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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

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Seeking Forgiveness [Part Eight]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.4k

[Summary and Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: It's been awhile since this fic finally had an update, but here y'all go! Make sure you heed the added warning for this chapter--mentions/fear of miscarriage will be found in this update. Feedback is always appreciated!

Holding the soft cotton baby pajamas up in front of yourself, a faint smile ghosted over your lips. Unconsciously your left hand dropped down, landing on the swell of your growing bump as your eyes traced the cute pattern of white bunnies prancing around the yellow fabric.

As you stood there staring at the pajamas in your hand, you could see a picture beginning to clearly form in your mind. A little baby with a dusting of dark hair like Matt’s was cradled in your arms, wearing this onesie. A clearly exhausted Matt shuffled his way into the bedroom, heading over towards you with a prepared bottle in his hand, his eyes half-lidded. His tee-shirt was wrinkled and stained with a bit of old spit up near the collar, but he clearly hadn't bothered to change. The only thing he seemed concerned about was his daughter in your arms.

When he reached the pair of you, he extended his arms out to take her from you, eager to feed her. You passed her gently off to him, watching as he held her so carefully in his arms, pulling her in towards his chest like she was the most fragile thing on Earth. And then he'd lean down towards where she was cradled in the crook of his arm, talking in hushed tones with a broad smile on his face as tiny fingers reached up, brushing along the stubble of his jaw while he spoke.

An expression full of warmth and love broke out across Matt's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed down at the little baby in his arms hungrily drinking down the formula from the bottle with happy, soft little squeaks and grunts. That glimmer of love in his eyes only grew more as he glanced back up at you, a smile full of joy and pride stretched wide across his mouth despite the fact that it was three in the morning.

“I cannot believe you're having a girl!”

The sound of Marci’s excited voice had the mental image quickly fading from your mind. Tongue feeling suddenly thick in your mouth, you blinked back the tears threatening to spill forth as that smile on Matt's face vanished from your mind completely.

It had been a beautiful image while you'd imagined it, at least.

Clearing your throat, you set the pajamas back onto the display table. Your gaze lowered to your bump, your hand affectionately running across it.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Finding out I'm having a girl definitely made this feel even more real than it already had been.”

“Are you going to tell Matt?” Karen asked from behind the display table, her blonde brows high on her forehead. “That you found out you're having a girl?”

You nodded, your attention returning to the little yellow onesie you'd set back down. Running your fingers across the fabric, an ache hit you hard in the chest. You did your best to ignore it.

“I am, yeah,” you replied, glancing back up at her. “But I just found out this morning and I…don't exactly know how to tell him, you know? We've exchanged a few texts since he stopped by the other week and dropped off that pregnancy pillow and weighted blanket, but things are still a little odd between us. And I feel like this is news you share with the father in person, not in a text.”

“So you've been talking?” Marci asked curiously.

You watched as she pulled a tiny hanger from the rack she was looking at, lifting up a small green dress and showing it to Karen. The pair audibly cooed at the little outfit.

“A little,” you admitted to her. “It's hard for me to talk on the phone with him because hearing his voice is just…hard. It makes me wish things were like they were before.” The smile on your face faltered as you stepped away from the table, glancing at the vastly overpriced baby outfits on another nearby rack. “I admitted to him that phone calls are still a bit much for me, so he's been texting instead. Even though I know how irritating the speech to text feature on his phone is to him. So I get it. He is trying.”

“Certainly hasn't bailed yet,” Marci muttered, hanging the dress back on the rack. “Which I'm honestly proud of him for.”

You caught the pointed look Karen sent you and you sighed, aware of what that look meant.

“Yeah, I've noticed,” you confessed. “I see he's trying to be present. I see how emotional he gets at the thought of not actually actively raising this child. But here's the thing,” you continued, both women now focused on you. “I'm bringing a baby into this world, right? I'm not adopting a puppy. We're talking about a little human. Someone who's going to be shaped by their parents and how they're brought up and raised. Someone who is completely dependent on us to take care of them for years . And meanwhile, Matt does…well–” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “– that in the evenings. I think it's only realistic that I'm concerned about how serious he is when it comes to actually being there for the both of us after how he wasn't there for me the one time I needed him. I need to know I can actually count on him, especially when things get difficult. Or exhausting. Or if there's an emergency. The city can’t always come first, even if I admire him for what he does.”

“But he is trying to show you that,” Karen pointed out gently. “He messed up and he knows that. Believe me, he does. And while I completely understand your side, it's not like Matt isn't trying to earn your forgiveness and prove all of that to you, too. But it's sort of dependent on you giving him a chance to show you that.”

Running a hand across your forehead, you nodded. “I know,” you told her softly. “I know. Which is why I've been trying to give him that chance. It's probably better that I do before the baby comes when emotions will be even higher and things will be more complicated.”

Eyes dropping down to your feet, you nervously chewed your lip. You’d been leaning towards giving him that chance he’d so desperately and repeatedly been begging you for ever since he’d last stopped by, especially after seeing how much the thought of not being an active parent to his child really upset him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still scared to give him that chance. To open up and let him back in knowing he could hurt more than just you this time.

“It’s just hard to willingly let him back in after what happened. After how he'd hurt me. Because I’m honestly afraid of getting hurt again,” you confessed. “And not just me, but I’m scared of his daughter getting hurt. Of him not being there for her like she’s going to need him to be.”

“You know, I’m surprising myself by saying this,” Marci chimed in, “but I agree with Karen. At first, after hearing the news that you were pregnant, I absolutely could not picture Matt wanting to be a present father with how much he does, well, you-know-what at night. But with how much he’s been over at our place talking to Foggy and I the past few weeks?” She shook her head, tsk’ing lightly. “Let’s just say I fear for the man, woman, or child that dares to say a single mean word to his daughter. I mean that man is fiercely protective over the both of you. I don’t think you have to worry about him not being there when either of you need him.”

Something warm slowly filled you at Marci’s words. Something like a tiny spark of hope. You hadn’t known he’d been going over to their place and saying these things, worrying about the pair of you so much. Granted, you hadn’t spoken to him much in months now so you didn't really know what he'd been up to lately.

“Really?” you asked her, the threat of tears returning for a different reason.

Both Karen and Marci nodded their heads firmly, your eyes jumping between the two. That spark of hope burned a little hotter in your chest.

“He’s still in love with you,” Karen told you before pointing a finger at your belly. “And I can assure you, he loves that baby just as much as he loves you already.”

Crouched on the corner of a six-story apartment building’s roof, Matt’s head dipped and turned as he tried to remain focused on a conversation occurring in a nearby warehouse. He was doing his best to block out all the other distractions around him–like the sounds of car horns and the traffic below, sirens screeching in the distance as an ambulance made its way to the hospital, or the various arguments coming from inside the building he was perched atop.

Something was happening tonight in his city. He could feel it.

But as he tried to follow the conversation occurring half a block over, another noise abruptly broke through his carefully crafted concentration. Matt's gloved hands gripped the edge of the roof at the sound of it, his head instantly darting over his shoulder as the noise quickly overtook the sound of everything else.

Truthfully, he’d been attempting not to eavesdrop on you lately, trying to respect your wishes when he was out at night. Honestly he had been, too, especially since you’d actually been talking to him again, letting him in a little more even if it was only through texts here and there over this past week. He hadn't wanted to risk ruining the progress he'd suddenly made with you by trying to push your boundaries any further.

But he absolutely couldn’t ignore the sound of distress coming from you in your apartment just a block behind him.

You were crying. But not just crying in the usual way someone would if they were sad–something mournful and soft. No, it was a heart wrenching sound. Despairing. Painful. A noise that felt like an ice cold hand had gripped his own heart in his chest and squeezed .

Something was wrong.

A pained noise came from Matt as he rose to his feet, instinctively turning in the direction of your apartment. One booted foot took a step in your direction before he immediately halted in place. Gritting his teeth, his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts.

There was definitely a shipment of drugs being moved around in Hell’s Kitchen tonight, he’d absolutely learned that much from the conversation he’d been eavesdropping on. He had been on the cusp of uncovering where it was currently being held. All he needed was a location and he could alert the authorities to handle the rest. The streets of his city would once again be marginally safer because of him if he did.

And you had already repeatedly asked him to stop appearing at your apartment as Daredevil and invading your privacy. If he showed up now, that would surely appear to you like he wasn’t respecting your clear boundaries. Which he knew wasn’t remotely true, but would you understand if he explained that he was just too in tune with you to not subconsciously pick up on a sound of distress like that coming from you ? That he couldn't exactly control his senses picking up on it?

Matt’s gloved hand ran across his mouth in frustration, his eyes snapping shut behind his mask. He was torn.

Did he force himself to ignore your cries in order to not possibly upset you further? To keep respecting your boundaries and to leave you alone like you’d repeatedly asked him to? Which would in turn allow him to attempt to focus on finding that drug shipment tonight instead, something he'd been determined to do. Or did he go to you?

Teeth still grinding back and forth, Matt fought to decide on the right course of action. But at the sound of a particularly heart-wrenching wail coming from your apartment combined with something like the noise of you falling down, his eyes snapped back open and he made up his mind. He didn't care if you threw things at him and yelled him off your fire escape when he showed up. There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to ignore whatever was happening in your apartment. Even if it meant he’d have to show up at your front door and beg you to forgive him on his goddamn knees for the next several months. He needed to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Taking off at a sprint, Matt darted across the roof he was on and headed straight in the direction of your distress. He barely registered much else in the city as he flung himself over rooftop after rooftop, the sound of his own panicked heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. He was focused solely on you and the continued sobbing in your apartment, trying his best to keep his mind from racing to a number of terrible reasons as to why you might’ve been this upset.

By the time he’d made it onto your building’s rooftop, he quickly dropped down two floors until he landed with a solid thud on your fire escape. He heard your terrified intake of breath from inside your apartment, the sound of your head swiftly turning in the direction of where he was outside your window. He felt bad for startling you as he reached a hand out, knocking on the glass.

He expected you to start shouting. To tell him to go away. To tell him that he was an asshole who couldn’t respect your privacy. That you didn’t want to speak to him anymore because of it. Maybe to throw something at the window even.

What he did not expect was the way you softly sobbed out his name in a way that sounded almost like relief. Or the way your hands had clawed at the couch cushion beside you as you pulled yourself up to your feet, rushing over to the window as more fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

When you opened the window, the sharp, heavy scent of fear met his nose. The acrid tang was strong in your apartment, almost overpowering the salty taste of your tears in the air. And the sound of your racing and erratic heartbeat was roaring loud in his ears, mingling with the still frantic beating of his own heart. He could barely focus on much else as his own fear levels began to rapidly rise.

And then you surprised him yet again.

Your hands reached out through your window, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders and practically pulling him inside of your apartment. Speechless and concerned, he allowed you to drag him through the opening, moving as fast as he could to get to you. Though the way you whispered his name again as he climbed inside your apartment had his heart constricting in his chest.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “What happened?”

He'd barely had a chance to stand upright before your hands on his shoulders yanked him towards yourself. Your arms snaked around his neck, drawing him into a tight embrace as you buried your face right into the armor of his suit as more tears began falling down your cheeks. A strangled sob left your mouth, the heartbreaking sound partially muffled against his body.

Matt didn't hesitate. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and wrenched you in tight to the front of himself. His eyes closed as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. Desperately he wished you were holding him like this under different circumstances because he'd missed you these past few months.

But something was wrong and he needed to focus on that right now.

“Sweetheart, you're scaring me,” he whispered, tears burning at his own eyes behind the mask. “What's got you so upset? Did something happen?”

You murmured something unintelligible against his chest, the words too muffled and disjointed for him to understand.

“What?” he asked.

You pulled away from him, sounding as if you'd turned your head to look up at him as he reluctantly unburied his face from your hair. A large sniffle came from you before you answered him, this time more clearly despite the tremor in your voice.

“There was blood.”

It took Matt a moment to register what you'd said and what you meant. But when he did, he felt something ice cold flood his veins.

“I woke up a bit ago and needed to go to the bathroom. Like usual,” you explained softly. “And then I noticed that I–I was bleeding.” You sniffled again, your voice quivering more noticeably as you continued. “And it scared me. Because I'm terrified that–that something is wrong. With the baby.”

Matt's stomach dropped as you buried your face back against him. His gloved hands gripped your back tighter as he tried to remain calm and process what you'd said.

“Was it a lot of blood?” he asked nervously.

You shook your head against him. “No. Not a lot. Just enough to notice it.”

“Okay, well that's good at least,” he said, running a soothing hand along your back as he tried to keep himself calm. “You're around twelve weeks now, right? It's not entirely abnormal for some bleeding to occur. I don't hear any cramping occurring and–” his head turned, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard to hear the baby's heartbeat over the panicked noises of your own body, “–the baby still seems to have a steady heartbeat in there. Which is–is good. From what I remember reading, that's a good sign that nothing is wrong. It's the first thing a doctor would check for to make sure the baby isn't in any danger. But if you continue bleeding we can certainly get you to a hospital, sweetheart.”

You drew your face partially out his chest, sniffling loudly yet again as Matt continued to stroke your back. It sounded like you had looked up at him, your tears gradually slowing. He focused back down on you, one hand leaving your back to gently brush some hair away from your damp cheeks.

“How do you know all that?” you whispered.

He shrugged a shoulder lightly, his hand still gingerly removing the damp strands of hair from your face that were stuck by tears. “I spend my free time reading up on pregnancy-related things,” he admitted softly. “So that I can maybe help if you need me. In situations like this.”

He heard the faint surprised intake of breath you'd taken at his answer, so quiet you probably hadn't even realized you'd made the sound. He felt your arms wrapping tighter around his neck, holding him close as you buried your face back against his chest. Despite how good it felt to have you back in his arms, Matt focused his senses back onto your body, doing his best to concentrate on the baby for a minute in the silence that filled your apartment.

“I'm not a doctor,” he murmured, still listening, “but nothing sounds different than what I've usually heard. I don't notice any more bleeding, and the lack of cramping is a good sign. Baby's heartbeat seems to be really strong.”

Matt cleared his throat, turning his attention back on you. Your body had calmed in his presence–something that made him feel good but he was afraid to overthink about the why . Though your body still sounded panicked and stressed, something that concerned him.

“Maybe it's best if you take a seat and try to relax,” he suggested gently. “The stress probably isn't good for you or the baby. Let's just focus on calming down now, okay?”

“Right,” you said, the air shifting around you as you nodded against him. “You're right. It was just a little blood so I'm–I’m probably overreacting.”

“You're not overreacting,” he told you, guiding you carefully back to the couch and settling the pair of you down into the cushions. “You were scared. It's understandable.”

Matt sat down on the couch beside you, surprised once more when you scooted closer to him. He reached a hand up, removing the cowl from his head with one hand while running his other through his unkempt hair.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Matt's hand froze in his hair, his attention swiftly focusing on you. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

“For probably scaring the shit out of you tonight,” you replied. “I'm guessing that's why you showed up, right? You heard me freaking out?”

Matt smiled sheepishly back at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn't trying to listen in to your apartment, but you sounded so upset that I couldn't help but overhear you when I was out. I was afraid you'd be upset with me showing up though, because I know you’ve wanted me to stay away, but I couldn't just ignore you like this. I had to make sure everything was alright.”

He heard you sniffling again, your hands wiping at your eyes. Carefully he slid his arm around your shoulders, moving slowly in case he was crossing a boundary and you wanted to tell him to stop. But instead you moved even closer to him, eliminating the space between both of your bodies as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder. A small smile slipped onto Matt's face, his own head carefully lowering to rest atop yours.

“Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you whispered. “I feel better with you here.”

Matt's heart thudded hard in his chest, that cold feeling of dread finally melting straight out of him as he held you against his side. You actually wanted him here. You were comforted by his presence, not upset by it. After the months apart from you which had felt like torture, hearing that had felt far too good.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he assured you quietly. He hesitated a moment before softly adding, “Though I certainly wish I could be here the times you don't necessarily need me, too.”

He felt your head turn along his shoulder as you settled even more comfortably into the side of him. Your body was relaxing further now that the pair of you had sat down. But Matt could hear just how tired you really were from the sounds of your body and he figured the scare you’d just had hadn’t helped.

“I know,” you replied softly. “Maybe we should have a talk about that. About things between us.”

Hope fluttered in his chest at your words, excitement flooding through him at what that talk might mean. He absolutely wanted to be back in your life far more than he currently was, but he knew right now wasn't the time for that discussion, not after what had just happened and considering how exhausted you sounded to his ears.

“Maybe I can take you for coffee this weekend and we can discuss things,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as over-eager as he felt. “Tonight let's just focus on making sure you and baby are both okay.”

Your head shifted along his shoulder and Matt could feel the way your eyes were on him now. Then he felt the sudden nervous energy that washed over you just before you'd opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. Clearly you wanted to say something but didn't seem to know how. He sat there quiet and patient beside you, wondering what you were struggling to get out.

“This is probably not fair of me to ask considering our…situation,” you eventually began, your nerves apparent to him in your tone, “but could you maybe please stay here with me tonight? In case something does happen?”

That hope in Matt's chest grew further at your question, his body feeling like it could float up through the ceiling right now if he wasn’t more focused on the feel of you at his side. He made you feel safe. Even after how awful he'd been to you and how that had led to the break up, you still wanted him here. To protect both of you. Maybe he hadn't messed things up entirely beyond repair like he’d been worried about for weeks. Maybe he could fix things.

Maybe you could actually want him in both of your lives again.

“I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't ask,” you began in a rush when he hadn’t answered. “If it's too much to ask, I completely understand. I just don’t really want to be alone and–”

“I'll stay,” he assured you, his hand reassuringly squeezing your shoulder. “I told you, I'll always be here when you need me. I want to stay and make sure you're both safe.”

He heard you release the quietest sigh of relief, your body once again relaxing into his side. In the silence that followed, he also swore he heard a smile draw itself across your lips with how close he was listening to you, the muscles ever so minutely shifting along your face.

“You know how I mentioned that blood test?” you asked, breaking the silence a minute later. “The one where I could find out baby's sex and whether we're having a boy or a girl?”

Of course he knew exactly which blood test you were talking about. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it all week. He figured with what you’d told him about how long it took to hear back from your OB that you already had the results by now. It had been a struggle for him not to text or call you all week to ask you what you’d found out instead of focusing on his work that week. He’d been so eager for the news.

“Yes,” he answered. “I remember you telling me about it.”

“Well, I got the results yesterday morning,” you said slowly. “Did you…want to know what they were?”

It took everything inside of Matt to not blurt the ‘yes’ he gave you too fast. Though he’d grabbed your shoulder tighter in his grip, struggling to contain his excitement in anticipation of the news.

“We’re having a girl,” you told him.

Matt’s eyes snapped shut, a large smile spreading wide across his face. A girl. You were both having a little girl. A little version of you running around. Maybe she’d grow to have the same laugh as you, the same laugh he missed hearing in his apartment ever since you’d left.

“I can’t wait to meet her, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sure she’ll be just as perfect as you.”

You curled up further against Matt's side, something like an embarrassed scoff leaving you. But as you sat there cozied up to his side, another thought crossed Matt's mind. One he'd thought about often lately.

Nervously he chewed his lip as he focused on the sound of his daughter’s thankfully continuously steady heartbeat. Turning his head, he glanced down in your direction. He could feel the way you’d once again shifted against his shoulder, looking up to meet his eyes no doubt. There was something he’d been dying to do for weeks now, but he wasn’t sure if now was an appropriate time to ask, or if it would somehow make you uncomfortable. But he figured he’d try anyway.

“You can certainly say no,” Matt began cautiously, “and I would respect your answer completely. But…would it be alright if I could see if I could feel her moving yet? Is that too much to ask?”

You didn't answer him outright; instead he felt you reach your hands over towards him and pick up his right one. With ease you undid the straps of his glove, gently sliding it off of his hand before tossing it over onto your coffee table. Afterwards you slipped his hand up beneath your shirt, just over the slight bump his hands weren't used to feeling on you. His eyes closed again as he tried to concentrate his senses on your body in a way he'd never done before. A smile returned to his face as he felt you rest both of your hands over the top of his while he focused. He missed the simple feel of your touch.

It took Matt a few moments of concentrating before he noticed something ever so faintly shifting beneath your skin, something he’d never have been able to pick up on if it wasn’t for his senses. A soft, surprised chuckle fell out of him when he felt the faint shift again of what must’ve been a limb moving. There was no way for him to know whether it was an arm or a leg, but it was his daughter alive and well inside of you. The knowledge of that had tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“What?” he heard you ask.

“She's moving,” he whispered in awe. “I can feel her. It's faint, probably because she's still so small, but I can–can feel her.”

Your hands tightened over the top of his, the sound of your heart fluttering catching Matt's attention as he continued to focus on the baby growing inside of you. He wasn’t sure if your reaction was from the tear that had suddenly slipped down his cheek or something else, but it didn’t matter. Because this moment was easily one of the happiest he’d ever experienced.

With a huff you readjusted your head along your pillow, eyes opening once again in the darkness of your bedroom. You'd been having trouble falling and staying asleep tonight, too stressed about the bit of blood you'd found that had upset you earlier. Thankfully there hadn't been anymore tonight, but despite Matt's repeated reassurance, you'd felt embarrassed about getting distressed so quickly.

You'd just been so terrified waking up, still partially drowsy, to find that bit of bright red on the toilet paper when you'd gone to the bathroom. The fear that you'd somehow lost the pregnancy at the sight of it had immediately panicked you, because in these past few months you'd grown so completely attached to your little Devil. The thought of losing her–especially now knowing they in fact were a her–was too much.

Knowing Matt was out there sleeping on your couch in the living room hadn't been helping you to fall asleep, either. Not because you didn't feel safe with him here, but because it just felt wrong that he was asleep on the couch. He'd never slept anywhere else but in bed with you in the past, and honestly you couldn't imagine your couch was all that comfortable. Especially to him of all people.

And truthfully, if you were being honest with yourself, it was because you wanted him in bed next to you. Not down the hall, but right here where you could feel that he was actually with you. Where you could feel his comforting presence. Because you really did miss him.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tried to listen to the sounds in your apartment. For a moment you laid in bed, trying to hold your breath to see if you could tell whether Matt was asleep or not out in your living room. But as you sharply expelled the breath seconds later, the only noise you'd been able to pick up on was that of the city outside.

Another few minutes passed where you laid there contemplating whether you should just try to close your eyes and fall back asleep, or actually get out of bed and ask Matt to come join you. But you weren't sure you should even ask anymore from him tonight, considering he'd clearly been interrupted from Daredevil-ing because of you. And then he had offered to sleep on your couch afterwards when you'd asked him to stay. Asking him to then come join you in bed–while you both were still broken up–seemed like such a gray area.

But at the same time, you were carrying his child. And you'd been afraid that something serious had almost happened tonight, and clearly he'd been just as concerned. It was obvious with the panic written on his face even behind the mask when he'd initially shown up. And he'd stayed . He could have left when he realized things seemed to be okay, but he didn't. And while it was only one situation that the pair of you'd encountered, it had meant a lot to you that he hadn't just left you.

The pair of you were planning to get coffee together and talk this weekend too, so was it really all that bad to go out there and ask him to stay with you in your bed?

For a while you just continued to lay there, your mind racing back and forth trying to land on an answer. Ultimately it was the memory of Matt shedding a couple of tears from earlier tonight when he'd felt your little Devil move–something you hadn't yet even managed to experience because you were not far enough along–that had you tossing the sheets off of yourself and climbing out of bed.

Barefoot, you shuffled out of your bedroom before padding down the short hallway. When you reached the living room, you came to a stop just at the edge of the hallway, your eyes drawn to Matt. He was laying on your couch, his body curled in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the small piece of furniture. He had squashed a couch pillow up underneath his head, his eyes closed as he lay there. The plush blanket you always had on the back of your couch was draped over his lower half, but it was clearly too small to cover him fully as he lay there, his bare upper torso partially exposed.

He looked like he was asleep, probably worn out from a long day at work and a night out as Daredevil before you'd gone and interrupted it. You'd almost turned around and gone back to your room, not wanting to disturb him, but then his eyelids flew open. Almost immediately his head rose from the pillow, his gaze landing on you across the room as a look of worry crossed his face, his brows drawing together.

“Sweetheart?” he asked. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Awkwardly you leant up against the wall beside you, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“No,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong. I just can't really sleep. My mind is too loud.”

The worried crease between Matt's brows slowly disappeared as he pushed himself upright on the couch. The blanket that had been draped across him slid down, revealing more of his bare chest in the dark room. He'd clearly been trying to sleep in his boxers since the suit would have been too uncomfortable, and for some reason that only made you long for the comfort of his warm skin cuddled against yours in bed.

“Is there something I can do to help?” he asked.

Running a hand nervously through your hair, you tried to ignore your increasing nerves. You figured it was best to get to the point and just ask for what you wanted, leaving the decision up to Matt after that.

“Would it be too much if I asked you to stay with me?” you whispered. “Not on the couch, but actually with me? Just for tonight?”

“If that's what you want,” Matt replied. “I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you'd prefer me to stay out here, especially because I don't exactly have anything to sleep in.”

You shrugged a shoulder, glancing down at your bare feet. “That doesn't exactly bother me,” you told him, aware he could hear the truth in your answer. “I just don't want to be alone after earlier. And I'd feel a little better if you were with me.”

Matt removed the blanket from his lower half, his own bare feet landing on the floor. Rising wordlessly from the couch, you watched as he maneuvered around the coffee table like he'd done so many times in the past before he made his way to you in nothing but his boxers.

Hesitantly you reached a hand out, entwining your fingers with his when he neared. Turning in the hall, you guided him down the length of it and back to your bedroom. Matt easily followed your lead, his soft footsteps echoing yours as you led him into your room and towards the bed.

You released his hand when the pair of you reached the foot of the bed, making your way over to the side that was always yours. Matt continued on his way to the side that had always been his, his fingertips lightly dragging over the comforter as he moved.

Climbing back into your bed, you felt the mattress dip under the weight of Matt settling onto the other side. You smiled a little to yourself as you tried to get comfortable on your side, wrapping your legs around the pregnancy pillow Matt had gotten you the other week.

“Would you prefer me to stay on this side, or…?”

Matt's question hung in the bedroom, his meaning clear despite him not finishing it. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, your head turned just over your shoulder towards him as you answered.

“You don't have to tonight.”

Without waiting for further invitation, you felt Matt shift along the bed closer to you. His warm hand carefully landed on your hip, halting there for a moment as if testing your boundaries. Then very gradually his palm slid downwards until it was gently cradling your bump over your shirt. His warm body slowly sidled up to the back of yours and your eyelids lowered, your body relaxing at the safety and familiarity of him.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered into the dark.

Matt's fingers traced a light pattern over your stomach, the gentle touch causing a warmth to linger in their wake.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he whispered back. “From now on, I promise you that.”

The smile on your lips grew a little wider as your own hand sought out his. Your fingers entwined with his over the growing swell of your bump, like a protective barrier that the pair of you were making between the world outside and the little life growing within you. Then gradually you finally fell asleep.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible

[I have no idea why some of these tags aren't working 😭 If I misspelled something please let me know!]

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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would-you-like-a-scooby-snack · 7 months

Text

Hey There Scooby Doo! Here's a Promo for you!

*The screen turns on as it shows a blonde haired jock adjusting the camera.*

Blonde Jock: "I got it working everyone. It's up and running." *The jock backs up a bit.* "Hello everyone. You're probably wondering who we are right now. Well we are Mystery Incorporated, a gang of 5 who travels the world solving mysteries of many kinds. I'm Fred Jones, the Ultimate Quarterback and Ultimate Trap maker.....Or I would be if my title didn't get give to *Kevin McCallister*....!!" *An orange haired girl taps Fred on the shoulder.* "*Ahem* Right. Anyway, i'm tough, I can bench press 220, I'm an expert driver, and I am a master of setting traps. Could've been called the Ultimate Trap maker, but noooooo. I get Quarterback instead...."

Orange haired beauty: "Freddy, calm down." *Fred groans and walks off screen.* "*Ahem.* Hi everyone! My name's Daphne Blake, the Ultimate model. I'm a master at all things fashion, I'm highly resourceful, and I dabble in a bit of martial arts here and there." *Someone comes up to Daphne.*

Shaggey haired fellow: "Hey, Daph. Can you cut this wood?"

Daphne: "Sure." *She chops through the wood with ease, slipting it in half.*

Shaggey haired fellow: "Thanks."

Daphne: "You're welcome, Shaggey." *Shaggey walks off screen as cooking noises is heard.* "Anyway that's enough out of the most beautiful member of the gang, now to the smartest and cutest member of the gang!" *She turns the camera to a girl in glasses reading a book. The girl jumped from surprise.*

Girl in glasses: "W-Wait, I thought you were the beautiful one, Daph."

Daphne: "I am. But you and Scooby share the title of the cutest members. Not even beauty can compete with that. Or would you like to argue with Marcy about it, Velma?" *The girl in glasses blushes brightly and covers her face with the book.* "Hehehehe! See, cute? Whenever you're ready, Velma." *Daphne pats Velma's back and moves to the side. Velma slowly lowers the book.*

Velma: "I-I'm Velma D-Dinkle.....Brains of the group, investigator of the mysterious, a-and Ultimate Activist. I...I.....Darn it, Daph! Now I can't get my words across!" *She covers her face with the book she was ready, blushing like a mess.*

Daphne: "Hehehe! Sorry, Vel. I'm turn the camera over to Shaggey and Scooby. Ok?"

Velma: ".......Ok......" *Daphne turns the camera over to a the shaggey haired guy from earlier and a dog cooking some pineapple shrimp fried rice. Daphne whistles to them, getting their attention.*

Shaggey: "Huh? Oh, like, hello! I'm Norville Rogers. But my friends call me Shaggey. I'm the Ultimate Cook and this is my pet dog and Mystery Inc's mascot, Scooby Doo."

Scooby Doo: "Hi there. It's nice to meet everyone."

Daphne: "That smells yummy, Shaggey."

Shaggey: "Thanks. it's almost ready. I'm making pineapple shrimp fried rice."

Daphne: "Got it, Shaggey." *She turns the camera back to her.* "And that's all the members of the gang. We would love it if you would give us a promo. Looking forward to talking to you all." *Daphne smiles.*

@a-house-divided @full-course-for-people-pleasers @salmon-running-octoling @tinyronpa @needy-girl-overload @disheiress @d4y-0f-judg3m3nt @candy-cocktail @carnivore-and-cannibal @mxfia-kingpins @ask-the-steel-gray-admin-rp @ult-aikido-princess @excitement-to-consumption @fabled-fauna @y0u-f4il3d-m3 @mikado-sannoji @mercy-of-the-ashes @little-miss-noire-detective @little-miss-succubus @rxnowned-vxmpire-hxnter

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fuumiku · 1 month

Note

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

#Dungeon meshi #Ask #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Marcille donato #chilchuck tims #Marchil #You me the parking lot after i finish and post my arc analysis #Sobbing……… we’re 20 over here in the rarepair pit come on. Like do u not see how obsessed i am. Do u think they like. Mean nothing to me #Do u think it’s all incidental and i slipped and the 10 thousands of words I write for them had no thought or feelings behind them or #Their arc is so beautifuuuuul they come to see each other and her standards become more real while he allows hope and openness #Into his heart again 😭😭 not the way two of their scenes lowkey read as a proposal…#Anyways I hope this makes it clear I’ll fight to my dying breath for them.#I don’t want trouble and i imagine you don’t either so just don’t come shitting on my doorstep #In positive news my fic Grind Me Down Sweetly recently reached 100 likes and 1k hits <3 it can also be read as just platonic so if you like #Them as a duo even as friends give it a shot #Every time I see someone shitting on marchil I start making marchil content faster btw #Not art

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peterman-spideyparker · 9 months

Text

Caught (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader, Foggy Nelson x friend!fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been feeling very unmotivated and uninspired the last month, which lead to no motivation to post and even less motivation to write. But, with my period making me very mood swing-y, I went down a rabbit hole of very personal emotions and wrote this. It's more of a Reader x Foggy Nelson fic, but, I like it. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Summary: When Foggy catches you and Matt in the office during the workday, it leads to you letting Foggy in on a well-kept secret.

Warnings: Smut (p in v unprotected sex, semi-public), one lil swear, angst (talk of infertility, heavy feelings attached to topics of infertility, negative self-image/low self-esteem) fluffy/hopeful ending

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Marci Stahl (mentioned)

Word Count: 2,007

You press a kiss to Matt’s lips as he continues to rut into you, his large hands a firm and tender reminder for what you’re doing and why you’re doing it in his office.

“Matt,” you breathe, your breath hitching at the end of his name.

“You’re doing so good, angel,” he murmurs into your neck, pressing a soft kiss on your pulse point. “Just a little more f’me, okay?”

You whimper and nod, leaning forward and kissing him again as you hold onto his shoulders for support. He keens into your touch, your foreheads resting together as his nose nuzzles against yours.

“Matty, I’m gonna cum,” you moan softly.

“Good girl. Hold on a little more, sweetheart. Just a little—.”

“Hey, Matt—Oh for fuck’s sake!” Foggy says as he enters the office, immediately turning around and leaving. You practically fall off of the desk when he enters, Matt losing his grip on your body as well, slipping out of you as your impending orgasms slip from your grasps. You both call after him, but when you hear the door to the main lobby close, you both know he’s getting out of the building as fast as possible.

“I gotta go after him,” Matt pants, fumbling around.

“No, I’ll do it,” you tell him, grabbing your panties and sliding them up your legs, giving Matt a quick kiss as you adjust the skirt of your dress and rush to follow Foggy.

“Wait!” you call as you burst onto the sidewalk and catch his blond hair shining in the summer sun. “Foggy, wait!”

“(Y/N), you didn’t need to follow me. I’m flattered cuz it feels like I’m in a rom com, but totally unnecessary.”

“Foggy, please,” you ask softly.

“No, you don’t need to explain—you’re married. But in the office? There’s—.”

“Matt and I have been trying to get pregnant,” you explain.

Foggy demeanor immediately changes. “Oh my God, that’s fantastic! Go back up there! I’ll give you both another half hour.”

“I don’t know that ‘fantastic’ is the right word,” you breathe. “It’s not . . . We’ve been trying for two years and nothing has happened.” You watch as Foggy’s posture drops. “Can we sit and talk about this? Maybe at the park a few blocks over?”

Foggy nods, looping his arm in yours as you walk in silence until he finds an empty park bench.

“What’s going on?” Foggy asks softly.

“We didn’t expect to get pregnant right away,” you start. “I mean, I guess I might have expected it to take six months or a year. In all honesty, I half expected to get pregnant before Matt and I were married, but that’s beside the point. I mentioned to my doctor a bit back that Matt and I were trying and that it hadn’t happened . . . She suggested we both do some fertility tests. Matt’s results were fine, but mine . . .”

Foggy wraps his arm around your shoulders as you wipe away some tears. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I know my worth isn’t tied to having kids,” you sniffle. “But I’ve wanted to be a mom so bad, Foggy. Especially since I met Matt. And then I see him with Sammy and I just know that he’d be such a wonderful father, even if he is scared by the idea of it. And it’s because of me that he’s not.”

“Matt . . . He’s never mentioned any of this. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to, but, we’re like brothers. We tell each other everyth—.” He stops talking as if something clicks as he’s speaking. “I told him right away after Marci told me she was pregnant with Sammy.”

“I know. I was with him and he had the call on speaker. After he hung up, I got another negative pregnancy test. I think I cried harder than I ever had before that night.” Foggy deserves to know the whole story behind it, but you feel ashamed continuing. “I love you and Marci and your sweet little baby boy, but . . . You guys weren’t even trying and it happened by accident. You guys didn’t even know if you wanted to keep him when you found out, and I mean . . . People seem to get pregnant all the time, and I can’t. It’s like there’s something wrong with me.”

“(Y/N), it’s not your fault.”

“Everyone tells me that, and it’s getting harder and harder to believe. If it’s not my fault, then why haven’t I gotten pregnant?”

“It’s . . . Timing. It sounds lame, but it is. I was excited when I found out, but panic and fear outweighed everything. I didn't think Marci and I were ready. I told my mom, and she sat me down and looked me straight in the eye and said: ‘Franklin, you can handle this. Kids come into your life when you need them most, not because they’re planned.’ I was scared shitless beyond belief, but . . . My mom was right. It might not be great advice, but, none of it is your fault. It will happen. It’s like . . . It’s almost like my relationship with Marci. We couldn’t make it work on all of the other times we were together, and then one day, something just clicked for us. We were in the right spot for a good, healthy relationship. Of course I wanted it to all stick the first, second, fifth time we got back together, and it sucked that it took as long as it did, but, it finally happened. And I’m so grateful that it did.”

You turn into Foggy, not strong enough to keep the tears in. He instantly wraps you in a big hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. He doesn’t say a single thing, just letting you cry until you get it all out of your system.

“It’ll happen,” he reassures softly as you lean back and wipe away stray tears.

“I just . . .” you start, but stop.

“This is a safe space, (Y/N). If you want to, you can tell me.”

“I can’t shake the fact that Matt is only doing this for me. He’s told me he never thought of having kids, and when we first brought it up when we were dating, he didn’t sound too sure that he wanted them. But he knew I did. And I can’t shake the feeling that he is only sticking to this absurd diet and schedule and treatments for me, and that’s not what I want, you know? I love him, and it makes me feel so loved that he’s willing to do this, but . . . I can tell it’s taking a toll on him. H-He probably knows before I take the tests that I’m not pregnant, but he just keeps going along with it and pushing through the heartbreak because he knows that I want a baby.”

“Have you told him any of this?”

“No,” you admit. “I just don’t know how to tell him. And I’m afraid I’ll hurt him if I do.”

“You can’t carry that burden alone, (Y/N).”

“And Matt doesn’t need another burden.”

“You’re not a burden, (Y/N), and neither are your worries.” He places his hand over yours. “Matt would give you the breath from his lungs if it meant that you were happy and okay. And you know just as well as I do that no one can force Matt Murdock to do anything. He wants a family with you.” Foggy takes your face in his hands and wipes the tears off of your cheeks. “Do you know what he told me after your first date?” You just blink and look at him. “He told me that he just had a date with the most wonderful woman ever, and that one day, he’d marry you. A year later before he proposed to you, he spent forever imagining what your kids would be like. How many you would have, how many would be boys or girls, whose personality they’d be closer to . . . Someone who doesn’t want kids doesn't talk for three hours about what his future family would be like. He wants kids just as badly as you do. Knowing Matt, he’s bottling everything up because he knows how much harder it is on you to be going through this over and over. Neither of you are alone in this, okay?”

You nod, pulling Foggy in for another tight hug.

“I love you both so much,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry about this. But whatever you need, I'm here for you.”

“Thank you, Foggy,” you breathe. “I love you, too.”

“Wanna go back? Or do you need a few more minutes?”

You let out a breath and straighten up. “We should probably go back. I don’t want Matt worrying. Well, anymore then he probably already is.”

Foggy nods before you both stand. He loops his arm in yours like he did earlier as you slowly walk back down a few blocks and up the stairs to the lobby of Nelson and Murdock.

“Matt?” Foggy calls out. “Matt, we’re back.”

Matt walks out of his office, looking more put together than he did when you left him. You move from Foggy’s side, reaching your hands up to fix his hair. “There you go,” you hum. “All better.”

“Foggy, it’s not what—,” Matt starts, but Foggy puts up a hand to stop him before he starts speaking.

“You don’t need to explain,” Foggy says softly. “(Y/N) filled me in on some things.”

“She . . . She did?”

“Yeah, she did. It’s okay. Whatever you need, I’m here for you guys.”

You can tell that behind his red glasses, Matt is misty eyed as he goes in to embrace his best friend in a tight hug.

“How about you take the rest of the day off?” Foggy suggests. “I’ve got things here.”

“Fog—.”

“I mean it. Spend some time with your wife.” You give Foggy one more tight hug, and he gladly hugs you back with the same enthusiasm, kissing the crown of your head. “Now, go, you crazy kids!”

You and Matt laugh before Matt goes to grab his briefcase as you grab his cane and coat. As your husband makes his way back toward you, he gives Foggy one more final hug before slipping his hand into yours as you walk down to the street.

“You told him?” he asks softly.

“I did,” you nod. “It . . . It shouldn’t be something we’re hiding from the people we love. I mean, I wish it wasn’t taking so long to happen, but . . . it shouldn’t be something we carry alone. We have good, supportive friends.”

“We sure do.” Matt leans over and kisses your temple. “Do you want to go back home? I can tell you’re still ovulating.”

“Maybe we grab lunch instead?” you say with a squeeze to his hand. “We don’t have to sit and eat out, but we could at least grab some takeout and talk at home?”

“Talk?”

“I can only imagine this is as hard on you as it is me. I want to know how we can make it a little easier on the both of us.”

“Our children—no matter when we have them, if we adopt—our children . . . you will be the best mother. And I am so fortunate that I’m your husband, and that you're my friend.”

You take his face in your hands, pulling him in for a long kiss, holding him close. “I have the things at home for lasagna. It was going to be dinner tonight, but, I could put it together for a late lunch?”

“That sounds absolutely delicious.”

“I’m glad you think so,” you hum as you both start walking again. “And, you know, I’ll probably still be ovulating after we eat. Besides, wine makes everything so much more fun.”

You know Matt is grinning like a cheshire cat as he snakes his hand around your waist and moves to kiss your neck, his scruff making you giggle uncontrollably as you make your way into the lobby of your building.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987

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peachhcs · 26 days

Note

Will and Sammy definitely did kissed again after that first kiss, maybe in some parties with a little alcohol involved, but I think they definitely repeated that kiss

kissing as "just friends" | the wonder years

oh 10000% they never talk about any of the times they kiss "as friends" because none of them count and it doesn't mean anything obviously!

warnings: underage drinking?

wooo me posting twice in one day?? here's one small blurbs of a time they kissed again plus samy being affectionate and making will confused while i continue working through my writer's block tehehe (takes place samy's senior year of high school and will's final dev year)

au masterlist

senior year was the "go big or go home" year according to samy's friends. actually, marcie had all the big plans including throwing a senior year kick off party. whatever that meant, the girl was throwing at her house since her parents were out of town so of course the entire grade was invited including the ndtp boys.

things were going well so far except that marcie's house was packed wall to wall with kids from their school and random extras people brought along with them. trying to move anywhere was impossible because of the crowds, so samy found herself stuck in the corner of the kitchen barely listening to lauren and riley yap on about something.

she took two shots already paired with some sprite mix, so her veins were buzzing and her head felt light with relief. she scanned the room looking for no one in particular until her gaze stopped on a familiar mop of blonde curls—courtesy to herself after she insisted will grew his hair out more to "attract more girls."

the boy stood with his friends as they somewhat mingled with the others around. not quite thinking straight, samy pushed herself through the crowd in that direction. she stumbled into a few people, not really drunk yet, but definitely buzzing and tipsy.

when she finally reached them she hooked her arm around will's. the boy snapped his head over, softly smiling when he saw who it was.

"like the party?" the girl wondered to him and everyone else standing around.

"i can't believe you guys know all these people," gabe chuckled.

"i mean, not really, but i've gone to school with them for the past three years," the brunette smiled a bit before glancing at will again.

"having fun?"

"yeah, thanks for inviting us," he hummed.

will's own alcohol consumption contributed to his more flirtier nature towards the girl. even more than before. the others immediately noticed their touchiness, exchanging glances with one another thinking the same thing.

"want another drink?" samy wondered as she peered into will's cup that most definitely was not empty. it was her subtle ploy to pull him away.

"mm, sure," will didn't even hesitate nor did he say goodbye to his friends as samy pulled him away.

they watched the two disappear back into the crowd. ryan's chuckle came first and a small head shake, "god, i can't believe how oblivious they are."

samy and will did not make it to the kitchen.

they detoured into one of the bathrooms that happened to be empty, so they shoved themselves inside. neither of them said anything as their lips attached to one another in a near desperate manner.

the girl's back hit the wall. will's hands were everywhere along with the heavy pants quickly leaving his mouth. the alcohol in their systems clouded every logical thought and the only thing on their minds was the feeling of their lips pressed together.

samy's hands tangled into will's curls, pulling at the roots when his lips danced further down her neck.

"mhm, feels good," the girl mumbled.

"just friends, yeah?" will breathed against her skin.

"mm, yeah, just friends. just friends," samy nodded.

when the night ended and the sun rose along with everyone's hangovers, no one spoke a word about the faint hickey on samy's neck or will's hot blush when gabe poked him about it later on.

—

the locker room was empty except for will sitting against his stall head in his hands after the worst game of his life. the other guys left knowing to give him his space until a small knock tapped against the open door frame.

"will?" samy's faint voice came through. the boy picked his head up and her heart immediately broke seeing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

she immediately slid next to him on the bench. "hey, hey. it's okay," samy wrapped her arms around his shoulders where he basically fell into her.

"we lost the fucking game because of me," will muttered.

"hey, no. it wasn't your fault. i promise. the other team played dirty," the girl shook her head.

"they took me out and it costed us our win," the boy frowned.

all samy could do was hold him and hope her presence brought his spirits back up. the two sat there for a bit longer while will let some more tears fall. samy didn't mind though. she hated seeing her best friend so upset especially since she knew how hard he was on himself.

after another five minutes, will lifted his head back up. samy took ahold of his face giving a gentle smile.

"i'm still so proud of you no matter what. one bad game isn't a bad player or bad career," she made sure he knew that or else he'd never stop beating himself up about tonight.

"thanks, samy. i'm glad you're here," the boy smiled. she leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead—something she did frequently but the gesture meant a lot more to the boy this time around.

the blush spread across his cheeks when his eyes landed back on her sparkly lip gloss. he thought about kissing her—telling her how he felt, how he thought these gestures meant a lot more to him than just friends—but then her phone buzzed.

kyle's name flashed across the screen—the guy she was currently talking to and sort of officially seeing. seeing his contact brought will back into reality knowing everything between him and samy would be strictly friends only.

even their drunk makeouts in someone's bathroom.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #bc hockey #will smith fluff #will smith hockey fluff

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eagerbby · 2 years

Text

angel | e.m

pairing| college!Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| You’ve wanted him for so long. Dreamed of him, yearned for him, but could never have him. Then one chilly, October night, you make your move. Let the games begin.

an| this was supposed to be a small little fic but then I apparently became possessed and now its 9k+ words. I'm so proud of this, its definitely the best thing I've ever written, and I hope you all enjoy it.

warnings| college! eddie but literally has nothing to do with college, she falls first he falls harder trope, reader is very horny for eddie, part 1 of 3, talks of death, eddie’s scars, handjob, oral (m receiving), ball play, worshiping eddie hours babes, 18+ you know the deal

You could feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you watch him, on the other side of the room, talking to Marcy Simon’s next to a table full of miscellaneous liquor. How he cocks his head to the side at something she says, his fluffy curls shaking around his pale face. His smile wrinkles his cheeks, eyes glossy, and you hope it’s the alcohol making his eyes twinkle and not her.

When she touches his arm, long blue nails scraping over his bare skin, your hand clenches around the plastic cup you hold and the amber colored fluid spills down your wrist.

You weren’t searching for him. Not really. But when you saw Gareth, who you knew was still a senior and had no real reason to be here, you had a feeling deep in your gut he had actually come. Had stepped out of his comfort zone and came to his first college party. It made you giddy in a way that annoyed the hell out of you, that made you want to remove the fluttering butterflies in your belly and rip their wings off.

But then you found him talking to her and you thought that maybe, just maybe, your chest was gonna explode. Felt like you might puke on the yellow shag carpet beneath your feet. Jealousy rearing its ugly head, it seems.

You hate the crush you have on him. The way it festered over the years, spreading through your bones like a fatal disease. You hate it because it’s ridiculous. You don’t know anything about Eddie Munson. Okay, that’s a lie. You know a lot about Eddie Munson, being his neighbor let you indulge in his life. Observe him like a fly on the wall.

It wasn’t creepy, at least you hope it’s not, you just found it hard not to be drawn to him. He had a magnetism about him, something that drew you in like a moth to flame. You had small conversations over the years. Nothing too substantial, but it was enough to feed the crush you harbored for the boy the town saw as evil but you found to be a ray of sunshine.

Your feet are moving before your brain even registers it, pushing through crowd, trying to get as far away from the scene before you make the stupid mistake of walking over and ripping that pretty blonde ponytail straight off her head.

This was the hard part - acting like you didn’t want him so badly it made your chest hurt. It was a mastered skill of yours, especially after dating Gareth’s older brother for the past year and a half. Watching Eddie and the others practicing in Gareth’s garage, or raiding the kitchen for munchies, or piling into the living room to watch some horror movie. You’d spent some nights forcing your eyes to stay off Eddie as you sat under Grant's arm. But Grant left for his fancy east coast college, leaving you in the dust, single and finally able to do the one thing you’d dreamt about for years.

Make Eddie yours.

But Marcy beat you to it, it seems, dug her nails in the boy you’ve loved since you were nine. You couldn’t really blame her, Eddie was sweet and caring and unbelievably handsome. She was beautiful and smart, of course he liked her. But it didn’t stop the ache.

So you find the small group you came with, fake a couple laughs, and chug down drink after drink until the heat in your cheeks is from the alcohol and not from seeing Eddie smile at her like that.

Once your body has a steady buzz and you’ve fought off a handful of horny guys that couldn’t pry their eyes from your cleavage, you decide you’ve had enough. You need to breathe air that isn’t laced with the smell of sweat and beer. Your friends don’t notice you abandoning them, not that you really expect them too, which makes your escape into the front yard rather painless.

The early October breeze whips past you, carrying with it the smell of a bonfire somewhere in the distance and notes of pine. You didn’t know where you were exactly and as much as you wanted to you couldn’t just leave. You came with your friends, your car sitting broken down back at the trailer park, so you wander around the long dirt driveway humming to yourself.

You hear the heavy guitar chords before you catch sight of his van further down the road, parked haphazardly by the woods. The windows are down and the back doors hang open, a pair of dingy white reeboks kicking back and forth against the chrome bumper.

You’re walking over before you can even think about it, the heels of your black platforms crunching the fallen leaves as you approach. Your hands are clammy, knees wobbly from the alcohol and when you turn the corner of the white metal door your head spins wildly, the motion too much for your intoxicated brain. Your hand grasps for the metal, the hinge squealing loudly, and you can’t help but giggle at the noise.

Eddie’s head snaps up to the sound and when you finally unclench your eyes you find him staring with this bemused look on his pretty face.

God, what a pretty face.

“Hi, Eddie.” Your voice is silvery and you cock your head, offering him a smile. The corner of Eddie’s smile quirks up the more he watches you.

“Hello, Angel. You okay?” His owlish eyes blinking up at you. You ease yourself away from the door, only swaying a little bit before you're standing directly in front of him in your tight red dress with your hands held behind your back. Eddie can’t help but notice the glossiness of your eyes, the way your eyeliner is smudged in the corners of your waterline.

“I’m okay. Funny seeing you here, are you having fun?” You ask airly, closing your eyes briefly as a chilled breeze caresses your hot cheeks.

“Not really my scene. Gareth wanted to come. You know how it is.” You nod as he speaks, because you know all this, figured it out as soon as you had seen them both. This wasn’t Eddie’s idea of a party.

There’s a bit of silence after that, the both of your shuffling in your spots before he scoots over a bit and gestures with a ringed hand, “You can sit if you want, lookin’ a little wobbly there, Angel.”

Angel. Angel, angel, angel.

That nickname will haunt you. Be used late at night when your fingers are swirling your sensitive clit.

Angel.

“Mm, surprised you remember that, Eddie.” You say as you take a seat next to him, his scent invading your senses the moment your butt hits the tan carpet in the back of the van. Cigarettes, the musk of his leather jacket, the slightest hint of spearmint gum. Eddie was always chewing something. Gum, the chain of his guitar pick necklace, the cap from a pen. Watching the clench of his jaw had become a sort of hobby for you.

Eddie laughs softly, peering at you from behind his brown curls. “It was fitting, you were always so sweet. Mrs. Martin knew what she was talking about.”

You laugh at this, running a hand over your cheek in embarrassment that he remembers your teacher's pet streak from third grade, how you were always the ‘Class Angel’ -a twisted way of making children behave- with your gold star and little pipe cleaner halo.

“All the other girls were so jealous of you.” He chuckles to himself, picking up the pack of Marlboro reds next to him. The silver chain dangling from his jeans jingles as he digs through his front pocket for his lighter.

“Stop, they just wanted to wear the halo.” You giggle, taking the lit cigarette as he passes it to you, an unlit one hanging from his plump pink lips. “Thanks.”

Eddie gives you a nod, taking his time in tossing the pack back to its spot on the carpet, flicking the flint of his zippo until the red orange flame ignites. You swallow roughly at the sight of him, dark brown eyes reflecting the amber flame, he looks like a work of art.

“Course. So, uh, where’s Grant?” Eddie knew that Grant left for college. Knew because he spent every Monday in Gareth’s garage practicing with the rest of Corroded Coffin. But he still asked and you still answered.

“Grant left for Brown.” You stare off into the night and Eddie watches you take a drag from your cigarette, eyes caught on the dark red ring of your lipstick painted onto the filter.

“That must be hard. The long distance.” He says thoughtfully.

You scoff lightly at this. “I guess he foresaw that, because he dumped me the day he left.” You feel a little more sober now, between the cigarette and the chill in the air, your tipsiness has subsided to a gentle buzz.

Eddie’s quiet beside you, no doubt remembering that day -which just so happened to be a monday- and how he and his friends witnessed the moment from the safety of the garage. Grant hugged his parents, his little brother, and when he got to you he didn’t reach for you like you expected him to. He just patted you on the shoulder and said, “I think we should end this. Sorry.”, before he got in his car and drove off.

“It’s fine.”

“He’s an idiot.”

You both speak at the same time, eyes meeting the others somewhere in the middle of your words. “What?” You ask, not really sure if you heard him right.

“He’s an idiot.” Eddie says it so matter-of-factly, so assuringly, that it must be true. You suddenly felt queasy.

“It is what it is. He wanted to go live his life, without me in it. Guess I should just be grateful he didn’t cheat on me.”

Eddie doesn’t agree, but he can also see the way your shoulders slump, your body folding in on itself at the memory so he drops it. Instead he bumps his shoulder into yours, observing the way you fight the smile threatening to erupt on your face the more he does it. Eddie likes when you smile.

“Why’d you leave the party?” He asks after a while, another cigarette burning between his fingers. “Thought you liked this type of shit.”

His question makes you smile, dark red lips turning up in the corners. “Have you been thinking about me, Munson?”

He feels his cheeks flush but he plays it off, bumping his shoulder against yours again as he scoffs. “In your dreams, Angel.”

If only he knew what he was really doing in your dreams.

“Wasn’t feeling it anymore. What about you? Did your conversation with Marcy get stale?” You cover a wince at the way it comes out, accusatory and bitter, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“She saw us play at The Hideout last week, she wanted to know if I could teach her how to play guitar.” Eddie’s head snaps to you when he hears you snort. “What’s so funny, little pig?”

“You know she doesn’t really give a fuck about learning to play, right? She wants to fuck you, Eddie.”

“No she doesn’t.” He chastises, slapping the back of his hand against your bare skin, eyes mesmerized by the jiggle of your thigh. The sting throbs straight to your core and you try your hardest to push the thought away, slapping him back.

“God, you can’t be that fucking oblivious, Eddie. She was practically eye fucking you.”

“Jealous?” Yes.

“Ha, you wish, big boy. But seriously, did you really not catch her vibe?”

Eddie seems to be racking his brain, thinking back to the moment. “I guess she was a little touchy.” He mumbles, shrugging.

“Are all boys this stupid?” You ask with a laugh and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I’m a man, Angel.”

“Okay. Are all men this stupid?”

Eddie can’t believe you. He’s known you most of his life, not as friends of course, but he thought that you were at least acquaintances. He has a good idea of who you are. He knows that you love music of any genre, your taste eclectic. From Otis Redding to Fleetwood Mac. Iron Maiden to Pat Benatar. Knows that you used to babysit Henderson. Knows that you took two years off after you graduated to take care of your dad who was sick. Knows your mom left when you were too little to even remember her. He’s spent years hearing his uncle and your dad talking about life out on his porch, beers in hand, faces sullen. But he’s never had a true conversation with you before. Never gotten to see first hand how sarcastic and playful you are. He likes it, a little more than he expected to in fact.

“You’re an asshole.” He chuckles, a cheesy smile on his face as he stubs his smoke out in the ashtray. “Do you, uh, do you need a ride home?”

Eddie looks so hopeful at the thought of driving you home, his eyes a little wider and his smile soft, and it makes those butterflies you hate so much turn into crazed birds rickashaying off your ribcage.

“What about Gareth?” You ask, remembering who Eddie came with, but Eddie brushes it off without hesitation.

“He came to meet up with a girl. I haven’t seen him in, like, an hour. So I’m sure he’s fine. So, do you want that ride?”

“I don’t want to go home, Eddie. It’s lonely, you know, with dad gone.”

His face drops at your words, remembering the fact that your father isn’t here anymore, he wants to slap himself for being so clueless. Being around pretty girls did that to him. Made his brain a useless glob of mush, shocking if he could even form a coherent sentence, but he’d never felt quite like this around you before. You were always pretty, he recognized that fact when you both entered high school, but you were also so reserved. Not shy, but you kept to yourself, your nose usually stuffed in a book or magazine.

You had walked around school with your head held high, an air of confidence that left people intimidated, focused solely on getting good enough grades to score a scholarship. A way to get the fuck out of this one track town. But when your dad got sick at the end of senior year your dreams were washed away like the tide. He saw you change then. You spent a lot more time at home, tucked inside your trailer. He could see your bedroom window from his. Had watched you rip your room to shreds one night. He wanted to follow you into the woods that night, be a shoulder to cry on, but he barely knew you.

“Do you want to go somewhere else, m-maybe?” When you nod Eddie lets out a shuddered breath. “I’m sorry, by the way. I-I wanted to come over and… I don’t know. I figured you were tired of all the condolences.”

You smile at him, patting his hand lightly. “Thanks. It’s better you didn’t. I’ve been a wreck. I’m just now catching up with my classes.”

“College sucks.” Eddie drags his hand over his face just thinking about it and it makes you giggle. He’s right, college does suck.

“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask, mind stuck on his question from before. Of course you wanted to go somewhere else, you didn’t care where as long as you were with him.

“Oh, well, uh,” His voice trails off as he speaks, his tongue poking out of his mouth. “I don’t know. I was gonna say lover's lake but that seemed…”

“A little forward?” You offer and the two of you share a laugh as he nods.

“Just a little bit.”

“I’d be okay with just hanging out, Eddie. Just don’t wanna be alone.” You were really packing it on thick -batting your lashes at him with your bottom lip pushed out just a little bit, just enough to draw his eyes down to your painted lips- you were actually surprising yourself. It was a strange thing, playing the role of temptress, but it feels good.

It feels powerful.

Even more so when Eddie starts eagerly nodding his head, wide eyes stuck on the sight of you all pouty and cute. He truly is a fool, so easily lured in by your act.

The ride back to Forest Hills is a rather quiet one. Eddie is humming to himself, sneaking glances over at you every couple minutes and you sit there on the torn tan leather of the passenger seat pretending like you don’t notice. But you do, of course you do, it’s hard not to when his humming ceases as he eyes the bare skin of your thighs or how he fidgets with the tattered steering wheel cover as you lean only two feet away from him to dig through the black milk crate that held all his cassettes. He clears his throat rather awkwardly, shamefully, when you catch him lean over and take a sniff of you.

Peonies -his mother loved those, it was a smell he’d never forget- but there was a sweeter scent there almost like candy. It makes his mouth water and he thinks, for a brief moment, about what you pussy might taste like.

His cheeks are flushed crimson, plush lips opening to say something, but he never speaks. He knows he’s been caught, finds no reason to dig himself any deeper. He doesn’t want you to think he really is a freak.

When he turns into the trailer park you sit back, looking out the window as you pass your empty trailer, moths fluttering around the porch light you hadn’t turned off in months. Ten months to be exact. The night your father died. Just the sight of your empty home floods your gut with dread. Dread that eventually you’ll have to return to the empty double wide by yourself.

But for now you watch it fade in the rear view mirror the deeper into the park you get. Eddie and his uncle's trailer sits at the very back of the park, after the earthquake ruined their old one the god fearing people at Hawkins Baptist church bought the men a brand new two bedroom trailer. A peace offering after the nightmare the whole town put Eddie through; after accusing him of being a Satan worshiping murderer and all. It had shocked the small town when Eddie resurfaced, bloody and injured, with the presumed dead Chief Hopper. But his reputation was cleared, the real killer revealed -Jason Carver, which wasn’t a big shock to you at all- and Eddie was deemed a hero having saved spunky little Max Mayfield from a similar fate as the others.

If you thought about it, like truly thought about it, none of it really made any sense. But you were positive that Eddie was innocent.

The town's opinion had always been that Eddie Munson was evil and scary, Satan's devil spawn- but years of watching him from afar has allowed you to form your own opinion about the metal head.

There was the obvious; he likes his music heavy, his weed chronic, and never really knew when to shut up. But there was that other part of him. The part that always helped his uncle carry in groceries or how you’d catch him up on his roof watching the stars late at night or how, back when your father was alive, you’d catch Eddie sitting with your dad in the front yard reading The Hobbit to him because he knew how much your father loved to read and that because of his illness his eyesight was deteriorating.

He was good with cars and animals and kids. He laughed with his whole body and cared deeply for others. He was unlike anyone you have ever met, and despite the dirty thoughts that bounced around your brain every time you saw him, you deeply admire his ability to be true to who he is. No matter what people say about him.

“Are you okay?” His cautious voice rips you away from your thoughts and when you finally peel your eyes from the rear view mirror, you find that you’re parked in front of Eddie’s place. The van is turned off, his music no longer filling the silence, and he’s sitting in the driver's seat eyeballing you while his fingertips rapidly twist his onyx ring around his finger.

“I’m fine, Eddie. Just lost in thought.” You grace him with a small smile and his shoulders deflate a little.

“If you don’t wanna hang out just say the word and I’ll walk you home.” He can’t help the way his voice sounds so defeated. He noticed the way your mood changed when he drove into the park and he doesn't want you to feel like he expects anything. Because he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to go home yet, Eddie.” You place your hand on his wrist, index finger smoothing over the knuckle of his thumb visible under his pallid skin.

“Are you hungry? I, uh, I make a mean grilled cheese.”

“That sounds delicious.” And when his bright white smile breaks out across his doleful face you can’t help but think of how delicious he looks.

“Sorry it’s a mess.” He apologies as he brushes past you into the house. After helping you out of the van Eddie had unlocked the door and, with a goofy bow and a cheeky smile, gestured you into the house. But as you cross the threshold he remembers the mess he’d left in the living room the night before and panic rises in his chest.

You watch him snatch piles of dirty clothes from the floor and the tan couch, rushing down the hallway to deposit them into the hamper in his room.

“Sorry, my uncles out of town so I’ve been sleeping in here-” He’s apologizing again, frantic brown eyes searching for anything that could change the way you see him -not like he even knows the way you see him- when he trips on the cord from the amp Steve and Robin had gifted him when he got out of the hospital last year and falls face first into the brown carpet. There’s no time to catch himself, falling so fast that he only yelps before his face hits the floor.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet faster than you can ask if he's okay, brown eyes wide and skin ashen, he brushes himself off and heads into the kitchen. You move to follow after him quietly amused by his boyish need to play it cool. You think his nerdiness endearing especially in this moment when your eyes fall onto an open composition notebook sitting on the arm of the sofa. Across the only two visible pages are charcoal sketches of a monster with almost tentacle-like skin and bats with sharp razor teeth dripping blood. There's a broken oar wrapped in vines at the bottom of the right page and scratched at the top of the page, in sharp thick lines, is the name Vecna.

In the kitchen, Eddie is hard at work making your grilled cheese, mentally punching himself as he drops butter into the hot frying pan watching it sizzle around the cast iron as its melts and he thinks to himself that he fucking blew it. You were making him all flustered and you weren’t even trying to, which made it worse. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t understand what you’re doing to him. These things he’s suddenly feeling as foreign to him as the Upside Down.

“I didn’t know you were an artist.” Your voice is cheery as you come up beside him, eyes flicking from his angsty face to the sandwich he’s flattening to death with a spatula.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sweet thing.” Eddie almost gags when he realizes what he’s just said. Twenty two years he’s been on this earth and not once has he ever called someone sweet thing. He wants to look over to you, see if your expression is as grossed out as he feels right now, but he can’t gather the courage to. Sweet thing. That’s something he’s heard from those old guys, who only get away with the things they say because they're old, whistle at ladies in public.

“I bet so.” You say softly pushing up on your toes so your mouth is only an inch or so away from his ear. Your voice so suddenly invading his ear makes his whole body shiver which, in turn, fills your chest full of pride. God, he’s so easy.

Your body is away from him so quickly he can feel the complete loss of your body heat. When he turns to see where you've gone he finds you perched on the kitchen counter, bare feet kicking out in front of you.

“I saw your notebook. I wasn't snooping or anything, by the way, it’s open on the arm of the sofa. You’re really good.” You bat your eyes and smile and he feels like his whole being is screaming at him to touch you.

“I-It’s okay, I didn’t think that. Obviously I’m not the tidiest of trolls.” He says as he places your sandwich on a small black plate. When he hands it to you, your fingers brush and your whole body zings.

“Thanks.” You can only mumble at him, your brain void of thought as the rush of endorphins flood through your nervous system.

As he starts on his grilled cheese he feels your eyes roaming the expanse of his body. From the crest of mousy brown curls on his head, to the curve of his shoulder underneath his red plaid button up, the way his black t-shirt is tucked into the waist of his weathered blue jeans and you realize you’ve never seen him in these jeans before. They fit just like his well loved black ones, knee holes and all, but these are a washed navy blue fading in color at the seams. His silver chain hangs from the belt loops and he’s wearing that belt with the handcuff buckle that made you choke on your Razzles the first time you saw it.

“Do I have something on me?” He asks, looking down at his pants and spinning in a circle for a better view. You can’t help but laugh at him, his face pulling into a puppy dog pout as he stops spinning.

“No, no, there's nothing on you. Well, except those jeans.” You nudge his knee with your toe, leg extended out between the two of you.

“Oh, yeah, the jeans.” His voice is doom and gloom and he pinches at the fabric with two fingers pulling the material from his leg. “Do you hate them? I feel like I look like a farmer.”

You scrunch up your face and cock your head to the side, narrowed eyes observing said jeans in dramatic fashion. Eddie shuts the burner off and plates his sandwich.

“I'm getting pastor at a youth retreat, vibes, honestly.”

Eddie slaps the spatula down as he braces himself against the counter, his head bowed to his chest. He groans softly at first until it becomes a long cacophonous wail, rumbling against your eardrums.

“Fuuuck. I was afraid of that. I definitely can’t wear these to the satanic temple then, huh?”

You laugh. You laugh so fast and hard you snort, more earnestly than you had earlier in his van, but much like then when he hears the sound he’s snapping his head back to look at you with your hand held to your mouth. Mortified, your hot cheeks sear against the coolness of your palm, and you squint your eyes as you look at him expecting to see him staring at you with that amused smirk of his but it’s not there. It’s been replaced with a stormy haze in his brown eyes and a slack jawed gape of his mouth.

He can’t find it in himself to tease you like he had earlier when right now with you sitting on his kitchen counter -in his house, only a few feet apart- he realizes he’s a complete fucking goner.

You are the cutest, sweetest little thing, Eddie Munson has ever seen.

What gets him the most is he can’t even pinpoint when it happened. He can remember having a crush on you when you were both children and crushes were just sweet fleeting moments to be lost in time. But after that the film reel in his head flickers, flashes of his dad being handcuffed, his middle school bullies slamming his thin frame into the metal lockers, the very first time the principal looked him in his eyes and told him he failed his senior year. At some point you had become just the neighbor girl. The one he’d speak to every now and again, mostly when his uncle and your father got together to shoot the shit. Maybe things changed after his brush with death. When he thinks about the time after the Upside Down, after 001 as Dustin has started calling it, he can picture your face more. Wayne kept him on a tight leash after Eddie was released from the hospital, even going as far as taking the keys to Eddie's beloved van in fear that Eddie would run away from him again, which left Eddie stuck in Forest Hills, bored and slowly going out of his mind.

His friends had set him up a neat little spot outside, a place they could spend time with him without being crowded into his trailer, and from there he was able to watch all your comings and goings.

But not, like, in a creepy way. Eddie had to make sure of that, he couldn’t take being accused of anymore heinous crimes. It was just enough to keep him wanting to know more.

“I must say,-” You start, tearing your gaze away from his heavy one. He’s been staring at you for a good minute as you take bites of the grilled cheese he made you and you feel like you might just combust if you don’t lighten the tension permeating the air. “This may be the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

Eddie chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck underneath all his thick hair. “What can I say, I’m flattered. Just call me the master of grilled cheese.”

“Aren’t you already the Dungeon Master? Would this be considered a side quest? Do dungeon masters even have side quests?” Your questions make him laugh. “So many questions, so little answers.” You finish with a huff, popping the last bite into your mouth, and Eddie can’t fucking breathe as he watches you suck the slight sheen from the butter off your fingertips.

“I am the master. T-the dungeon master. For Hellfire Club. Yeah.” Eddie couldn’t be any more lame if he tried, he thinks to himself. But then you giggle all fucking sweet and shit and you wish he could recognize how fucking adorable he is. Feel how wet it’s making you.

You always had a thing for nerds -being a bit of a nerd yourself- and Eddie was one hot fucking nerd.

“So, I have a question.” Eddie says as he leans against the counter adjacent from you.

“I have an answer.” There you go, cocking your head to the side, giving Eddie a clear view of your pretty neck.

“Would you ever want to come to one of our shows?” He asks so tentatively, like he thinks you’re gonna turn him down.

“For Corroded Coffin?” You ask.

“Yeah, we’re doing this thing for Halloween at The Hideout, with costumes and shit. We actually draw a crowd, surprisingly.”

“Drunk people?” You tease. Eddie plays with his hair, bringing the strands over his mouth to hide his smile.

“Five of them. Impressive crowd, really. Rockstar's wet dream.”

You look down at your bare feet, feeling bashful all of the sudden. “You know, I’ve actually seen you guys play a couple times.”

“Really?” Eddie smiles at you completely dumbstruck, idly tapping his rings against the counter top.

“You were wearing this cool red bandana on your head and you did this guitar solo that I thought was fucking wicked.”

“Wicked” Eddie repeats the word like you said it, lips curling into a devilish grin. “That was the first time we ever covered that song, you know. I thought it was shit.”

“I didn’t. I actually went to the record store the next day and fucking sang what I could remember to the guy that worked there. He- he looked at me like I had two heads.”

“You freak. You could have just asked me.” Eddie was starting to drift closer to you, fiddling with the black pick hanging from his neck. A sudden rush of bravery fueling every step he made until your knees brushed his thighs.

“Hm, didn’t think of that.” You swallowed dryly. He was throwing you off your game and you were starting not to mind.

“Did you ever figure it out? The song?” He was stuck watching your pursed red lips, the dark lipstick smudged ever so slightly.

“Heaven and Hell. Black Sabbath.”

“Wicked.” He mutters.

“Very. You did it justice.”

“What happened between you and Grant?” The question throws you completely off guard and your brain stutters.

“W-why?” It’s the only thing that manages to escape your dry throat, which is apparent by how croaky you sound.

“You guys were together for so long.” He says.

“Not that long.”

“Like a year, that's pretty long..”

“A year and half, actually.” You say, eyes glued to the silver chain around his neck because you refuse to look him in the eye. To see whatever expression he may be wearing.

“So what happened?” He asks again, steady in his determination to get an answer out of you.

“We just grew apart.” You mutter back and Eddie scoffs loudly.

“That’s such a fucking cop out. You loved him didn’t you?”

“No. I-I don’t think so.” Eddie pushes your chin up with his knuckle, eyes searching your avoidant gaze until he catches you. Locks you into the most intense stare you’ve ever been apart of.

“No?” He’s honestly surprised by your answer. On the surface, whenever he saw you two together you looked like what he expected love to look like. Not like he had much to go on.

“I think I did, at first. But the longer we were together the less I felt it.” You feel transparent under his watchful eyes, an open book spilling things you’d never spoken to anybody before.

“Why?”

With a sigh you push him back, hopping down off the counter and standing in front of him with your hands clasped together anxiously in front of yourself.

“It’s embarrassing, Eddie.” You say, looking up at him with such sad eyes he starts to regret prying so hard, but then you shake your head a little and release a deep breath.

“Grant wasn’t sexual, at all. At first I thought it was because of our schedules, he just didn’t have the time, but then I’d go out of my way to make the time and he still didn’t want to. I started thinking maybe he just didn’t want to… with me.”

“Angel-” Eddie’s heart and fists clench at your words, at the way you look so forlorn, as you stand in front of him believing you were undesirable in the eyes of the boy who was supposed to love you.

“I can count on both hands how many times, in a year and half, that we had sex.” You raise your hands up in show, your palms facing yourself, fingers splayed apart.

“Why didn’t you leave that fucking turd?” Eddie asks, tone rather abrasive.

“Because… because I didn’t know I could. We were supposed to go off to college together, get a little apartment, maybe a cat. I had planned what our life would look like once we left Hawkins. There was no other option in my mind.”

It sounds so pathetic when you say it out loud that you openly cringe, clenching your teeth together as you wait for what Eddie has to say next.

“You weren’t happy.” It’s an observation, not a question, and you nod.

“No, not after the first couple months. I wanted- I wanted-”

“What did you want, Angel?” He’s so much closer now, eyes drawn down to yours with a flaming intensity that ignites that fire in your stomach. White hot heat oozing like lava through your bloodstream.

I wanted you. You have to bite your lip to stop the words from leaving your mouth. Despite being true, you aren’t ready to put all your cards on the table just yet.

“I wanted him to look at me and see a girl that would get down on her knees for him. I wanted him to see me for the sexual being I was and instead he saw me as a child. Talked down to me like one when I tried something new…” You could feel the moment creeping closer and closer, the courage inside yourself growing as Eddie’s pupils blew wide, his brown irises swallowed almost whole.

“Something new?” Eddie’s mouth feels dry as the Sahara, the words tossed between his chapped lips with uncertainty.

When you step closer, bridging the space between your wanting bodies, Eddie goes rigid. You take his belt buckle into the palm of your hands, crawling delicate fingers around the warm metal until you're suddenly holding him in place -holding him to you- and Eddie’s entire world tilts. He can’t do anything but watch you bat your mischievous eyes up at him, the red flesh of your lip bitten between your sharp teeth.

“He was so boring, Eddie. When we would have sex it was always the same. There was nothing new, nothing exciting about it. I wanted to be wild, to feel naughty. Do you ever just want to be naughty, Eddie?”

Eddie feels naughty and how couldn’t he with the way his hardening cock strains against the rough denim of his jeans. With the way his eyes keep slipping back to your cleavage, the red velvet of your dress looking so tantalizing against the soft expanse of your chest. Eddie wants so badly to smooth his fingertips over the skin there but he fears if he moves, even just an inch, you’ll completely vanish and he’ll wake up from this dream. It has to be a dream. There’s no way you are standing in front of him right now with the most sexy, inviting, look in your wide eyes.

“Eddie?” Your voice is so soft but your hand so firm as you cup his heavy bulge in the palm of your other hand. “Do you want to be naughty with me, Eddie?”

And Eddie can’t fucking believe you. Can’t comprehend what you're asking as his whole body trembles in need. Eddie’s not a virgin; but he’s not an expert on the matter either. He never had a girlfriend, but he has fucked a couple girls, girls whos names he can’t remember and whose faces blur together like a kaleidoscope. It was enough to have an idea of what to do, and add the porn he’s watched and the Heavy Metal magazines hidden deep under his bed, Eddie has a good grasp of what he thinks he’ll like in bed. But all that knowledge flies from his brain when you ask him this.

“Yes.” He’s speaking without even realizing it and your face breaks into a wolfish smile, one he didn’t know you were even capable of, and then you’re backing him up until the counter behind him digs into his lower back.

“Mhm.” You’re humming as you undo his belt, trying to tame the shake in your hands as you pop the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper.

His hands linger in the air as you sink to your knees, fingers lazily untying his laces like you have all the time in the world, but Eddie’s burning from the inside out. You look so pretty sat before him, biting your lip as you free him from his shoes, tossing them off to the side where they skip against the linoleum. He can’t hold your eye contact when you peer up at him, fingers grasping the hips of his jeans, admiring him from your position.

“Eddie?” Your voice is like the sweetest honey, molten, sending flames straight to his throbbing cock and god, if you don’t feel like the most powerful woman on the planet. But you need him to watch you, need him to see how badly you want him. So you bite softly at the inside of his clothed thigh pulling a sharp gasp from him and his head snaps down heavily.

“Y-yeah?” His voice is fucked, making you smile up at him proudly. You have him right where you want him.

“Do you wanna try something new, Eddie?” You ask so nicely, as if you’re giving him an opening to back out, because you don’t want to do this unless he really wants it.

Eddie nods fervently, guiding your hair behind your ear with shaking ring clad fingers, and he wants this. Thinks he wants this more than anything ever.

“Yes. Please. ‘M yours.”

Those words go straight to your core and you throw your head back with a moan, clenching your eyes shut, before you're finding his wide round eyes in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Don’t say shit like that, Eds. Gonna get a girl's hopes up.”

Eddie tries to wrap his mind around that -because what’s that supposed to mean- but you’re already shucking his jeans down his hairy legs, hands hooked on the backs of his knees as you pull them over his sock clad feet. You toss them to the side once they’re off, your nails scraping up the meat of his calves, the hill of his knees, the sensitive skin of his thighs, before you’re leaning forward to kiss his bulge through his precum stained blue boxers.

“You’re so hard and I’ve barely even touched you yet.” You say, toying with the waistband of his boxers, pulling the elastic away from his skin just to let it snap back in place. Eddie hisses at the feeling, his head falling back against the cabinet behind him hard, but then your fingers are slipping under his shirt and Eddie chokes on his tongue -his fingers flying down to grip at your wrist roughly.

“Stop.” His voice shatters the tension in his little kitchen and your eyes glisten up at him with surprise.

“I’m sor-” You’re ripping your hands from his grip, fingers rubbing the ache away as you fall back to your heels. Eddie cuts you off before you can even finish your apology, shaking his head and kneeling down in front of you.

“No. It’s not…”

You and Eddie kneel in front of each other in silence, your eyes held together by some invisible force because as much as he wants to look away he can’t, so he’s stuck sitting in front of you on his knees with his sickly shame and pounding heart.

“Eddie?” You want to reach out, but your wrists still throb from his grip, so you settle for his name in hopes he’ll swim out of his head and back to you.

“I have scars.” He says, fast and quick, like he’s ripping off a band aid. “From… from last year. They’re.. They’re pretty gross.”

You mull over what he’s said before you are reaching out for him, smoothing your knuckle down the column of his throat as his adams apple bobs in anticipation.

“That’s okay, Eddie.”

“I don’t… I don’t want them to scare you off. I really am a freak now.” His sentence trails off and the wretched tone of his words make you ache in a different way than just ten minutes earlier.

“You’re not a freak.” Your own voice sounds strangled, forced, and you lay your hand against his stubbled cheek.

“Ha.” His laugh is painfully sardonic. “Haven’t you heard-”

You cut him off before he can say more. Can’t stand to listen to him say more.

“I never thought you gave a shit what others thought of you?” Your words are honest. Eddie walked around like he could care less what others think of him, he always has. But maybe you shouldn’t have been so blinded by his false confidence. The tremble in his lips and the sad gleam in his eyes as he tries to push you away from him, because he did see himself as a freak.

“You don’t know me, Angel.” He scoffs, finally tearing his eyes away. He stares out the kitchen window at the weaning moon high in the sky. Wishes he hadn't brought you here. He was just embarrassing himself.

When your lips hit his cheek, plush and soft and so warm, Eddie’s eyes widen.

“You’re wrong.” Another kiss. Dark red lipstick painting your kisses across his pink freckled skin. “Can I see, Eddie? Please?”

“It’s gross.” He closes his eyes when you leave another painted kiss, this one right on the corner of his mouth. “Like Frankenstein's monster.”

“Can I make my own opinion? Please, Eddie?” You ask so sweetly he can’t help but agree, gazing at you from the corner of his eye as he nods softly. “Stand up, Eddie.”

Eddie raises to his feet, back into the spot he was before, eyes downcast at his feet.

“Will you take your shirt off for me, pretty boy?” You keep your hands busy rubbing up and down his legs, trying to sooth the swarm of nerves you can see wrecking his body. He sheds his flannel before he reaches up behind his head, pausing for a second, and then slowly pulling his shirt over his head. Once it’s off, he holds it in front of his stomach, still unsure of how he feels about letting you see this. He could barely look at himself in the mirror now, he can’t imagine what you’ll think once you see.

You give him a minute before you take the shirt from his hands, placing it gently to the side, keeping your eyes down until he invites you. You don’t want him uncomfortable, want him to want you to look at him even if it's hard. He must catch on, because soon his hands find your cheek and he’s guiding you to him.

He’s so rigid, standing there in only his boxers and socks, he can’t remember a time he’s felt so clinically naked. But then he makes the mistake of looking down at you and finds you staring in awe at his bare, scared, body like he was a piece of art.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t mangled webs of pearl colored skin, taunt at the sides and puckering in the middle. The scars are etched across his left hip, crawling up the right side of his rib cage in an arch of angry red scar tissue, the scars peppered along the expanse of his collarbones lighter in color, the closest to his skin tone like they healed faster than the others. He must have been in so much pain, it makes your heart hurt just thinking about it, but it does nothing to deter you from him. Scars, no scars, he’s still the most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“Hey,” His voice is soft, edging on cautious, as you trail a finger from his left hip across his tummy to the angry red web on his ribs.

“Do they hurt?” You ask him, peering up at him from your knees, they were starting to ache but you didn’t care.

“A little. If I move the wrong way.” He’s whispering back to you, transfixed on the way you seem to be admiring him. “What do you- what do you think?”

Poor baby, he sounds so shy, which only pushes you to kiss him in the places he hates most. Leaving red lip prints on the scars you can reach with your lips, ghosting your fingers across the ones you can’t.

“Mhm, I think I want to suck your cock. Would you like that, Eddie?” You don’t wait for a response, the twitch of his dick is enough for you to pull his boxers down his legs leaving them pooled around his ankles, licking your lips at the sight of his cock springing forth.

Eddie sounds like a whore, wantonly moaning when you kiss the tip of his dick, and his cheeks flush deeply at his own noise. He’s starting to think all those things he thought he knew about you are wrong. He always assumed you were a sweet bookworm, untainted by the world around you. But he’s realizing quickly, especially as you lick a fat stripe from his base, that you’re a devious little thing. Dirty, evil, wicked, girl.

He was so wrong about you.

You’re taking your sweet time licking him, almost like his dick is a lollipop, starting at the base of his shaft and working your heavy tongue along the curve of him. When you reach his tip you suck it into your mouth, moaning at the taste of his salty precum, nails digging into his thighs.

Eddie’s losing his fucking shit above you, head smashed against the cabinet, but he’s staring down at you with half lidded eyes. His hands hold tight to the counter, knuckles white, his mouth parted open. He wants to touch you so badly, hold your cheeks while you bob on his cock, but his tight grip on the counter is the only thing keeping him up at this point.

It’s not his first blow job, but it’s without a doubt the best, so far beyond what he thought a blow job could be. You’re mouth is so hot, so wet, so fucking good, he feels delirious. He didn’t know a blow job could be this fucking good. Could have him so close to cumming when you’ve barely even done anything. Just bobbing up and down. Up and down. It hits him that you’re teasing him when you take him to the back of your throat, but only for a second, and then you're back to swirling your tongue around his leaking tip.

“Don’t be mean.” He pants when he catches on, and your laugh is muffled by his cock deep in the back of your throat. The vibration has him keening, hands flying down to grasp a hand full of your hair in his shaking hand. “Oh-oh my fucking god.”

He wants to cry when you suddenly pull off him, your lipstick smeared around your mouth, mascara tracking down your cheeks in black streaks. You look so fucking pretty. Drop dead gorgeous.

And then you lean past his cock, sucking one of his balls straight into your watery mouth, moaning at the heavy taste of him. He can’t breathe. Holy shit, he can’t fucking breathe. Thinks he might die with his fucking balls in your fucking mouth. But then your hand grabs him at the base and gives a strong steady stroke, and it’s like whatever dam had formed suddenly collapses and he moans so loudly it makes you jump, his other ball slipping into your warm mouth.

“Jesus H. Christ. Who are you? F-fucking naughty girl. You love this shit don’t you?” He’s gasping, voice so ragged it hurts his throat, and you only giggle at him while you suckle at his sack. “Evil fucking woman. Ruining me for anyone else.”

You bat your eyes, pulling away from him, a string of spit following after your swollen lips. Your hand still steadily jerks his cock, firm at the base, twisting across his tip. You have this look in your eyes, this strange yearning that he finally understands, can’t believe he ever missed before.

“Thats- oh fuck that feels so good- that’s what you fucking want isnt it? Wanna r-ruin me for the others?”

You say nothing, only bat your eyes at him, leaning forward to kitten lick his cock head.

“Y-you want me to be yours?” His getting close, the realization dawning on him. Earlier you brought up Marcy, how you saw him with her, he asked you if you were jealous. You denied it, but you had cast your eyes down to his lips before telling him he wished. He’d seen it then, that flicker of your eyes as you looked to his lips, but he’d brushed it off.

You take a break from sucking his soul from his body to roll your eyes, switching from your skillful mouth to your just as skillful hand.

“You said it.” It’s all you say before cupping his sack, rolling him around your hand softly, your grip on his cock slow and agonizing. He’s so close, can feel that heat burning down his spine, his chest heaving. He’s so close but he feels like he needs to hear you say it. Will go crazy if you don’t.

“Please, p-please just- fuck, Angel. Please just answer me.” He’s whining, thighs shaking, breath stuttering. You want to take pity on him, want to tell him yes, yes you want him to be yours. Only yours.

But that would end this game and you are too deep to give up now. So you sit up off your heels, line his cock up with your mouth, and kiss his tip.

“I want you to cum, Eddie.”

Then you’re engulfing him into your mouth, deep in your throat, and it burns and tears sting your eyes but you keep going. Fight through your gags, swallowing around him, pump his base with one hand while your other fondles his balls.

Eddie can’t take it, the pleasure and your noises too much, he grips both sides of your head and holds you there as he shoots rope after white hot rope of his cum into your throat. He’s whining and begging, pleading with you not to stop -never stop- as he cums so hard his vision blurs into white stars and swirls of light.

Desperately needing air, you swallow what he's given you and pull off until only his tip sits in your mouth. You suck and kiss and lick his delicious tip until he pulls you away from him with shaky hands and a whiny -"s'too much baby, please, s'too much."

You wipe the back of your hand against your mouth, ignoring the faint lines of red that trail after it. Eddie can't stop looking down at you, can't believe you just made him cum that hard.

"Taste so good, Ed's." It's all you say as you hike his boxers back up his legs, standing on shaking knees from kneeling for so long. You can feel your wetness seeping down your inner thighs, clit throbbing with need. You choose to ignore her, instead you reach your hand out and wipe some drool from the corner of Eddie's mouth.

"I'm gonna stop calling you Angel." He says on a pant, trying his hardest to calm down from his high, but the waves of pleasure are still ebbing at him.

"Are you now?" You ask with a little cock of your head and a sinister little smirk.

"Yeah, you were sent from hell. I'm almost positive. F-fucking succubus." He wants to kiss you, can feel his body being pulled to yours like a magnet. But you're already walking backwards, reaching down to grab your heels from the floor.

"I like when you call me angel, Eddie." You're leaving, and his chest clenches because he doesn't want you to go. He misses your warmth already.

But this was part of the game. Leave him wanting more.

"I'll see you around, Ed's." It's the last thing you say before you're gone, the trailer door slamming shut behind you.

Eddie can't help but allow his body to fall forward, hands clenching the counter top, he breathes in. Breathes out. Tries to find some semblance of his sanity. But then his eyes fall onto something black and lacey, hung on the doorknob.

He walks over slowly, face blanching when he realizes the black lace are your panties. You left him your fucking panties.

Eddie clenches the fabric in his hand, they're wet in the crotch and they smell like you.

Dirty, evil, wicked girl.

Eddie holds the fabric to his face and groans. "Angel my ass."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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