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f4irys4n · 11 months

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don’t ignore me.

choi yeonjun x neutral! reader

tags gender neutral language. academic rivals (they don't hate each other, they're just competitive). reader and yeonjun tease each other. reader likes yeonjun. yeonjun is in denial but also likes reader. artsy! yeonjun. oblivious yeonjun. suggestive dreams. upset reader. crying. subtle confrontation. light angst. kissing. subtle groping.

wc 2.2k

muffled conversations spread through the hallways as you walk through them, history books in your hand, making your way to class. your cheeks heated slightly, remembering this was the lesson that you sat next to yeonjun. as little as you like to admit it, you do have a little crush on yeonjun, but you would never tell anyone that; to anyone else, he's purely you're academic rival.

you felt someone push into your back. "hey loser!" a familiar voice spoke from behind you, one of his arm wrapping around your shoulder. speak of the devil.

"hey yeonjun," you draw out, looking up at the taller figure, trying your best not to smile from seeing him. "oh how excited i am to sit next to this really annoying boy in my next class?" you tease.

"oh, me too. it's going to be amazing sitting next to this whiny person in the very class I'm heading to now," yeonjun hums, grinning down at you.

"whiny?" you ask, arching up your eyebrow.

"oh yeah... super whiny, they go on and on about how boring the class is and how they'd love to be doing something else," yeonjun furthers, rolling his eyes a little.

"you're an ass," you chuckle to him, punching his arm lightly.

"oh.. so if i'm an ass, what are you, darling?" yeonjun smirks slightly.

"the closest thing to perfect you'll ever meet," you smirk back, before stepping through the doorway of your history class.

"cocky much," yeonjun teases gently.

"learnt from the best," you reply you grin back at him.

"yeonjun, y/n, stop flirting and pay attention please," the teacher snaps, causing the class to giggle at her comment making both of your cheeks flush a light shade of red.

"flirting? they wish," yeonjun chuckles out loud.

"you wish, more like," you snigger, side-eyeing him before paying attention to the notes on the class board.

yeonjun's mind wandered, starting to doodle on the page of his textbook that he'd barely written on throughout the entirety of the lesson. before he even had time to notice, he had scribbled a detailed picture of you on the corner of his paper. his eyes widened and he quickly ripped it out, scrunching it up in a ball before you had time to see it.

"what was that?" you ask, trying to spy on what he'd been drawing.

"nothing.. just some stupid doodles," he mutters, pushing the piece of paper into his bag.

"you probably were drawing some boobs or something childish like that," you chuckle playfully.

"i'm not a 12-year-old boy," yeonjun scoffed jokingly, rolling his eyes at your comment.

"are you sure about that?" you hum, sniggering to yourself before making note of what was being said about whatever historical event was being discussed at the moment.

that same night, yeonjun opens his scrapbook to flick through the pages of all his drawings before his eyes land on a blank page. he had a strange feeling in his heart but he really couldn't place what it was, so the only thing he knew to do was to draw his feelings so he could understand them.

his pencil touched his paper, and his imagination took way; the grey spreading across the slightly off-shade white paper to create the imagery yeonjun was picturing in his mind.

after a few moments, he groaned, realising what he'd drawn. you.

why were you so stuck in his head? why was his thoughts so fixated on you? he was truly struggling to understand why you were so prominent in his mind, and this only frustrated him further; it frustrated him that he couldn't understand what these feelings even were.

he slams the book closed, chucking it onto the desk beside his bed before falling onto his bed. he huffed a little, running his hand through his hair, trying to solve the puzzles within his mind.

eventually, the boy fell asleep, slipping into his dream world.

and again, he saw you. you were both in his room, and after seconds of paused staring, he watched himself launch himself at you. cupping your face and pulling your lips towards his, passionately moving them against each other as your arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. yeonjun's hands wandered further down as the kiss heated up, his palms settling on the curve of your ass.

and with that, yeonjun woke up, his breath heavy and forehead dotted with sweat. what the fuck was that? why would he ever dream of that?

he felt his heart quicken and stomach tingle slightly. he'd never seen you in such a way, you were just his friend who rivalled him for the title of 'best in the class' not someone he viewed as a romantic interest. this feeling towards you was completely new, and it confused him greatly.

you hadn't seen yeonjun all day and it honestly upset you. usually, he was the first person you spoke to in the morning, besides your roomie. but today was different, the boy was nowhere to be seen and it through you off.

you looked at your timetable and smiled; history; the very lesson yeonjun always sat next to you in. you hurried to class, moving your legs fast, eager to see him.

as you walked into the class you frowned. yeonjun was already there, seated and ready for the lesson to start, but he wasn't sat in his usual place. he had willingly chosen to sit next to eunha, his ex, the girl he often bitches about saying he could never trust her again and that he firmly believes she only used him for his popularity.

it stung. like a knife to the heart.

why would he choose to sit away from you? you had sat next to each other for years now, what had suddenly changed?

your mind went frantic. had you done something? you retraced all your interactions from the days prior, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he was completely fine with you when you had said goodnight to each other. what could have possibly changed in the space of 12-ish hours?

your gaze was locked on him for a few seconds, and he hadn't even bothered to look up at you. but little did you know, he knew you were there, and once you turned away his gaze was burning into you just as yours was with him.

all lesson your focus was gone, nothing the teacher said was going through, it was all mindless chatter to you now. you quickly stood up, gathering your things quickly.

"i'm sorry, miss, i've got to go," you say frantically before exiting the room, ignoring her calling your name and asking what's wrong.

after a few moments, yeonjun jumped up and followed you, unsure over what was wrong; not realising his absence hurt you this much. but by the time he'd left the room, he couldn't see you, you'd gone.

"mr. choi, will you please sit down," the teacher scolds, prompting him with her finger.

today had just felt like a little too much.

you were staring at yeonjun's contact name and the texts between you both, wondering whether you should bite the bullet and message him, or leave him be; he made it obvious that he didn't want to speak to you in your eyes.

suddenly you jumped off your bed, determined to figure out why yeonjun was blanking you. you were sure you hadn't done anything wrong, but if you had, it'd also give you the opportunity to apologise and hopefully sort things out.

yeonjun sat on his bed, scrolling through his phone aimlessly, his eye landing on a picture you'd posted on Instagram a few days prior. he found himself smiling at the sight of you before clicking on your profile to fill his worried mind with happy thoughts for just a moment.

that was until he was interrupted by a knock on the door, causing him to quickly lock his phone and throw it to the side of him.

it was almost 11pm, who could this be?

he steps barefoot on the cold laminate floor, slowly making his way to the door to open it. he gasped quietly as he saw your face staring up at him, all teary-eyed and lacking the normal look of hope in your eyes.

"y/n?" he asks quietly "how did you get past the hall guard? come in, you'll get us caught," he continued, ushering you into his room quickly.

"really? that's all you have to say to me after ignoring me for an entire," you hum "why haven't you talked to me all day? and why did you deliberately choose to sit next to eunha today in history?" you say causing yeonjun to frown slightly, he didn't think his actions would have upset you this much.

"oh.. i didn't think it would have been this serious," yeonjun replies, pretending to not be bothered and pushing the situation to the side.

"not that serious?" you chuckle "we've been friends and playful rivals since we both started school, and now you just randomly ignore me. not to mention sit next to your ex-girlfriend in the lesson we always sit next to each other in, it's like out thing; to be the funny duo in that class."

"can i not sit next to whoever i want now? maybe i wanted a change," yeonjun scoffed a little, running his hands through his hair.

"that's not what i said, yeonjun. and you know it's not."

"then why are you acting like we're together and that-" and that's when he stopped himself, seeing your eyes well up. he'd spent the entire day ignoring you, too scared about the newly developed feelings he had for you, thinking that they'd eventually go away if he stayed clear of you for a short while. but seeing you in so much pain from just not talking to you for a day honestly hurt him, did he really mean this much to you?

"look.. i'm sorry for ignoring you," yeonjun sighs, eyes focused on the small tear that made its way down your reddened cheek. "i just didn't think sitting next to eunha would be that much of a problem."

"did you.. after everything that happened between you two? after me having to watch it tear you apart and taking care of you for weeks after the breakup, did you really think it wouldn't at least annoy me a little bit?"

"i never asked you to look after me," yeonjun mumbled back.

"but i did.. i did it because i like you and i couldn't bare to see you that upset! i always tried my goddamn best to cheer you up, to take your mind off things until you eventually got over her because it really upset me to see you this down about your entire life. and after so long, i really thought you might have at least picked up on my feelings or have even felt the same way, possibly. so forgive me if seeing that today threw me off a little. i've always tried to be a good friend and i've wanted you to notice me for so long-"

you take a deep breath, realising you had said way too much, a lot more than you expected to. you never meant for him to know about your feelings and you were mentally cursing yourself for not knowing when to shut your mouth.

yeonjun stares at you for a few moments. silence falls between the both of you. "i- i think im just gonna go.. i'll see myself out," you mumble, trying to step away from the situation until yeonjun moved in front of you and cups your face.

it took you a while to register his soft lips pressing against yours, his thumb gently brushing back and forth over your damp cheek.

"i like you too.." yeonjun whispers against your lips, before pressing them against his once again, his hands travelling down to cup your ass softly. "i like you so much."

he pulls away slowly, beginning to realise that this was almost identical do his dream that had caused him to ignore you in the first place. this caused him to chuckle slightly, confusing you.

"i dreamt about something like this last night.. well kinda," he hums "that's why i ignored you because liking you more than a friend felt so unfamiliar and it panicked me.. i thought it'd go away if i ignored you, but it obviously brought us closer than we were before," he giggles a little, holding the small of your back.

"you ignored me.. because of a dream?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"well yeah..." yeonjun trailed off.

"did you ever just consider telling me how you felt instead of trying to ignore the feelings?" you ask, chuckling at him. "damn.. you really do have attachment issues," you joke teasingly.

"i mean.. what can i say? they're one of my most enduring qualities."

#yeonjun #txt #yeonjun txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun imagine #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun angst #txt imagine #txt fluff #txt angst

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thetriplets3 · 8 months

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can u do prompt 17(i think) from the needing comfort list — ‘you bought me chocolate/flowers’ — with matt plz !! its okay if not ! have a great dayy 🩵

haven't written in a while so hopefully this is good thank you for your request. send some more in

key to my heart

One thing I’ve always loved about Matt is how he will go lengths to make sure feel better and brighten up your darkest days.

Matt’s been by my side for a few years now, he’s the first person I want to tell anything to, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting presence. When life gets hectic and things gets flipped over Matt is always the one to come and turn your world back around. I never know where I stand with Matt. He does things a boyfriend would do but we’ve never discussed our feeling with each other.

This week was exhausting to say the least. I’ve become the therapist amongst my friends, it’s a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply. I give my undivided attention to anyone who needs an ear to listen to their problems and give my best advice but at the same time I absorb all their negative energy and I carry their problems. They pass the weight holding them down onto me, quickly slowing me down. That’s the downside to being the one who listens because no one thinks to listen to the listener. They don’t think how heavy it is for one person to hold all that.

I can’t take it anymore, I only have so much room to carry things and it’s filling up quickly. My space is full of others problems and there’s no room for my own thoughts or feeling. So that’s where I am now, curled up under the covers in the dark trying to feel something, anything but everyone’s problems. Turning my phone on do not disturb I see a few messages from Chris covering the ones from Matt.

chris 🍊

please answer us

helloooo??

i know you hate notifications so i know for a fact you’ve seen this

don’t ignore

at least message matt pls he’s worried

love you kid we’re here whatever it is

matt 🥤

y/n

what’s wrong why aren’t you answering any of us?

are you okay? i need to know you’re okay i’m worried

no one has heard or seen you in a few days

i know somethings up this isn’t like you

let me in let me help you

Flipping my phone face down so I don’t have to look at it, I let out a shaky breathe. The silence becomes too much all the stories and problems are all coming forth, shouting and talking over each other. Not knowing how to make it stop I let out a desperate sob wanting nothing more than for someone to listen to me like I do for them. Both mentally and physically exhausted I drifted off into a much needed nap.

My eyes squint open looking at my clock. Only a 40 minute nap. The dryness in my mouth makes me get up to go grab a drink from the kitchen, but not before wrapping a blanket around me.

Slowly and heavy lidded I trudge down the stairs, halting when my eyes meet the island. Flowers. No one’s ever given me flowers before. The thought of how they got in here escapes you, being drawn towards the yellow flowers, my favorite color. Attached to the bouquet is a little note in chicken scratch I could recognize anywhere.

My heart flutters as a pout replaces the empty look on my face. “My favorite” I gasp. A happy sigh leave my lips as I bring the bouquet to my nose to give them a sniff.

“I knew you’d love them” you voice full of love and softness.

“Matt! Holy shit you can’t do that to me” I pant with a hand over my chest.

“Sorry” you say sheepishly.

“You bought me flowers?” I ask softly.

“You told me tulips were your favorite and I thought yellow ones would make you even happier”

“That was 2 years ago I didn’t think you’d remember. I don’t think anyone would remember that” I scoff.

“When you care, you remember. If it’s important to you it’s worth remembering” You say. “You’re worth it”

Placing the flowers on the table I walk towards you. Sensing an impending hug you open your arms and pull me into your chest.

“I know you’re always there for everyone else to let their guard down but you need someone to be there for you. Stop putting up walls let me be that person. Let me in okay I love you and you don't have to feel alone” you say as your one hand rubs circles on my back and the other cradling my head to your chest, immediately bringing me comfort I didn't know I was missing.

“I know. I'll let you in might take a while. I love you Matty" I whisper into your neck.

"We'll work on it I'm here for you"

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #readers pov

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purplecoffee13 · 5 months

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The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 1

Summary: “Y/N hates Harry, but fake dating him for a while seems to benefit them both, and she wouldn’t pass an opportunity to torture him, of course. But the lines drawn are blurry, and the tension is high…”

Wc: 3.4k

Tropes: semi-enemies to lovers (she doesn’t like him)

Warnings: jealousy, (slight and mentions of) violence, sexual tension

"Okay, just let me see if I got this right. You want me to be your girlfriend during the wedding of your cousin to get your parents off your back about another girl?"

"Fake girlfriend." Harry corrects me. "But yeah, that's basically the gist of it."

I stare blankly at him before letting out a scoff. This must be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard, and I've had a guy call me 'daddy' before.

"Why don't you just reject the poor girl? I'm sure that message will get to your parents."

"Do you seriously think I haven't tried that?" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was just saying.." I raise my brows. I don't get why he's acting so frustrated, he's the one asking me for help. Which reminds me...

"Also, why me? You don't even like me."

When Harry and I first met, he was dating my old best friend, Marie. One night, he tried to kiss me while we were all out on the town, and I flipped out at him for betraying my best friend like that, and thinking I would ever go along with it.

The next day I told Marie about it, but she accused me of seducing him and we stopped being friends. Ever since then, I've hated Harry Styles. I hate him for creating that mess, for thinking I'd do something like that to my friend and I blame him for losing my best friend.

We never really spoke much to each other after that whole situation —besides the occasional forced conversation or collaboration during a project — so naturally I was surprised when I heard someone knock on my door and it turned out to be him.

"Because I don't want to go through the hazard of leading someone on, and all my other girl friends are taken and Leila's gay." He explains with a shrug.

"You won't lead someone on who's gay." I reason.

"My parents know Leila, so that wouldn't work." He counters, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "So, do you want to do this or do have any other burning questions?"

As a matter of a fact I do, ass.

"What makes you think I would help you?"

Harry clears his throat, shifting on my bed until he's seated with his body towards me. I get a bit nervous with how serious his face expression is.

"I've heard the stories about Malcolm, how he's trying to get you back." My face falters once the sentences leave his mouth. I didn't know it was that obvious. I know that Harry senses my uneasiness, but he goes on anyway. "After what he did, I understand that you don't feel the same as him, and this way we can get him off your back."

I frown, because he's right. It would benefit me too, and I hadn't even realized it until he pointed it out.

I caught Malcolm cheating on our six month anniversary, which was about about two months ago. I immediately broke up with him, and blocked him on everything. Unfortunately, Malcolm had somehow divulged himself into the delusion that he could convince me to get back together and he has been annoying me ever since. And while fake dating Harry seemed like absolute hell, it would be the perfect opportunity to send Malcolm the message that I’d moved on.

Malcolm disliked Harry too. I’ve never known why and I don’t think I ever will, but I didn’t question it at the time because I didn’t think very highly of Harry anyway, and assumed he’d pissed Malcolm off during a project or something.

I let some dramatic silence flow over us that consists of me frowning very deeply as if I'm working everything out in my brain, but I quickly open my mouth to avoid drawing it out too long. I have to say that it sounds like it could be fun, and an opportunity to embarrass Harry in many ways, in front of his parents.

Now that's tempting.

"Fine, I'll do it." I give in, secretly getting more excited as I make up ways to torture him in my head. "Anything I need to be aware of?"

"Wedding's in Italy, so you'll have to fake a stomach flu." He casually remarks, as if it isn't something he should have clearly mentioned before asking this loaded favor.

"What?! I was going to spend spring break at my moms!" — not that I was looking forward to that — "And how in the world am I going to pay a ticket to Italy? You know what, maybe this isn't such a good idea—"

"The ticket has already been paid, you don't have to worry about that. But if you'd prefer to be with your mom instead of a hotel in Italy, that's your call."

Harry's face stays neutral, but I can see in his eyes that he's hoping for me to say yes. I'd be lying if I said I was excited to spend a week at with my mom and her new husband; Italy sounded way more appealing. So, that—along with the whole Malcolm situation—was the only reason I said

"Okay, I'll go."

*****

"Oh my goodness, how romantic! When do I get to meet him?" My mom chirps over the phone. Her voice has raised two octaves since I told her that I'd started dating someone in secret about a month ago, and that it was getting pretty serious and he was now taking me to Italy for his cousin's wedding.

It was a bit weird to lie to my mom, but most of what I was telling was actually the truth, so that made the lie a bit easier to keep up.

"Oh I'm sure you'll meet him soon. Sorry I won't make it during spring break, though." I feel the need to apologize anyway, we hadn't seen each other in quite some time and she'd really forced me to take time off from my life here and work on our relationship.

"Yes, well it would have been good to see you, but you're young and these are the adventures you need to go on!" She encourages me as kindly as she can, and I fake a smile, even though she isn't there to see it.”

"Thanks for understanding mom."

"Of course sweetheart. As long as you take lots of pictures, we're good." She jokes. After that, we just say our goodbyes and I hang up.

I'd been running around so much to try and find outfits for Italy that I'd forgotten Harry and I were launching our fake relationship at a party tonight. We didn't really set that many boundaries yet, but I was quite okay with anything. It had to be believable, and my hatred didn't make me blind. Harry was hot and I knew it, everyone knew it.

He was at my door at nine on the dot, which I hadn't expected. We drove to the party because Harry wasn't in the mood to drink, giving me a free pass to get wasted. However, I made a promise to myself not to get too drunk tonight and accidentally slip out the truth.

By the time we arrive it's around nine thirty and the house is already filled with people. Since I broke up with Malcolm, I haven't really been to a frat party anymore, I've grown to dislike them actually. However, this is the perfect place to be seen, and our friends were going to be here so our 'relationship' would be picked up on soon.

Harry and I agreed on the friends with benefits to lovers story, and that's what I start telling my friends while they look at me as if I have grown a second head.

"But you hate the guy, you just complained about him last week." Zoey, one of my friends, remarks, making my stomach drop.

Fuck, I did talk shit about him last Wednesday.

"Uhm– yeah, that was just to keep up appearances." I quickly manage to make up. They all hum in understanding, which is quite surprising to me. From the looks of it, I know that they're not fully convinced, but I hope they'll just see it as my crazy rebound phase and leave me alone.

"Well, as long as he makes our little Y/N happy, right?" Natalia throws her arm around me, raising her brows at the rest of the girls, and they all agree with her.

"Okay... but if he hurts you I will cut off his testicles, fry them until they're crispy and force them down his throat." Zoey grunts, squinting her eyes at Harry who is standing a few feet behind us. He has his back turned to us because he is talking to his friends, but it's funny nonetheless.

I notice that Zoey's glare quickly disappears and blood starts to rush to her cheeks. Just when I'm about to ask what has gotten into her, I feel someone throwing their arms around me from behind.

By the tattoos on his arm I'm immediately able to tell that it's Harry, and my heart starts racing at the realization that this little act needs to be kept up for a month or two, and it needs to be realistic.

"Hi sugar." Harry greets me sweetly before kissing me on my head. I fight hard to keep myself from vomiting at that hideous nickname, and play along.

"Hey hot stuff." I turn around, and I catch the twitch in his eyelids as the equally, if not more disgusting name leaves my mouth.

"You want to go get a drink?" He asks after letting out a small sigh. I nod, and he intertwines his hand with mine before leading us to the kitchen.

I can see the people staring at us with wide eyes, and I don't blame them. It is a rather weird look, me and Harry. However, I ignore it and focus on the main goal, I can't back out anymore so I might as well make it as fun as possible.

When we get to the kitchen, Harry immediately nominates himself as my bartender.

"What d'ya wanna drink, babe?" He asks, observing the countless bottles on the counter.

"Something strong please." I lean my elbows on the counter, watching in silence as I see him scanning the table before grabbing a rum bottle. He fills almost half of the cup with rum and the rest with coke.

He pushes it into my hands when he's done, a bit of the drink spilling on my fingers as I take the cup from him.

"Hey! Be gentle, boyfriend." I grumble, sucking on each of my fingers to clean the rum and coke off them. Harry's gaze lingers on my mouth and fingers a little bit too long, but he is fast to regain himself. Scoffing, he leans forward until he's inches away from my face.

"I don't do gentle, girlfriend." He mocks me before backing away from me again. "Taste it."

I give him a firm glare, but take a sip of my drink anyway. My eyebrows instantly knit together at the strong taste of the drink.

"You know I asked for a drink, not a horse tranquilizer."

"You said you wanted something strong. 'S not my fault you can't handle a bit of liquor." He says as he pours himself some soda. I roll my eyes at his little jab and continue drinking the strong drink anyway.

There is a bit of silence between us, and when I feel it get awkward, I decide to speak up.

"D'you want to go back to our friends?" I propose, tilting my head a bit as I wait for an answer. Harry's eyes avert from whatever's in front of him and throws me a small smile before nodding his head. I'm about to start walking when Harry suddenly grabs my waist, turns me around and pulls me into him. My drink nearly spills again.

"Just don't call me 'hot stuff' in front of my friends, it's an awful nickname." He pleads with a small smirk, occasionally breaking eye contact to observe the party.

"Says the one who called me sugar." The corners of my mouth start to lift too, liking this playful part of him. Because I spend most my time that I've known him hating him, I never really got to experience this side.

"At least mine is accurate." He reasons, grabbing my hips and guiding me until I have my back against the kitchen island. My heart beat picks up a bit; I'm not used to him being this close to me and I didn't expect him to be either. I remind myself that it's an act, even though we're not in front of our friends so technically there's no reason for him to get this close to me. But, I allow him, mainly because he smells so good.

"And why is that?" I ask, my eyes landing on the cross necklace dangling as he leans into me a bit. When I meet his eyes again, Harry has a smug look covering his face.

"Because I bet you taste real sweet."

His hoarse voice manages to awaken a tense feeling in my stomach. He closes the distance between us until our noses are touching, and a hitched breath leaves my mouth. He smells very intoxicating and I feel very floaty even though I've only had a couple of sips from my drink.

"You wouldn't mind if I see for myself, would you?" He pushes some strands of hair behind me ear before cupping my jaw with his right hand. I ignore the way my body is reacting. I haven't slept with anyone since Malcolm so this is the first time I've been so close to someone in a few months.

"Knock yourself out, hot stuff." I tease him. My laugh quickly fades away though, when he actually leans forward and kisses me. I didn't think he'd actually do it, I just thought he was purposefully riling me up.

I can't help myself to do anything other than go along as he deepened the kiss with the subtle entrance of his tongue into my mouth, entangling us even more than we already were.

A part of me was surprised to find out how good it felt, but something inside of me already knew. There was just something about Harry that always made me wonder. I mostly think it was because he managed to hit a nerve that nobody else could with his annoying antics and inappropriate actions, and I guess I always wondered if he would be the only one to be able to soothe it too.

This kiss makes me lean towards the idea that he indeed would be the only one to know exactly how to relieve me, just like he knows how to irritate me.

I have to say I'm a bit disappointed by how quickly he pulls away, but the smirk on his face gives me just about the same feeling as that kiss did.

"Let's go back, hmm?" He suggests, peaking his head to the side before planting a kiss on my forehead and putting his arm around me. I nod with a faint smile, my lips still tingling from that kiss and let his tight grip pull me further into him.

My smile immediately fades, though, when I see Malcolm staring daggers at Harry and me from across the room. My heart drops. I had no idea he was going to be at the party. The reason I actually agreed is because when my friends asked me to come initially, they assured me he wouldn't be there. I figured that his friends, who were here, would see us and that he’d find out that way.

There is no choice but to walk past him, and my hope for ignoring him crumbles when Harry decides this is the time to chat with him.

"Oh hey buddy, didn't see you there." He fakes some civility, and the puzzle pieces click together. Of course he wasn't kissing me because he wanted to; He saw Malcolm and wanted to piss him off to satisfy his own personal vendetta against him. I know it's what I agreed to, but it feels kind of weird anyway.

I don't want to be in the middle of whatever feud those boys have, and I definitely don't want to be confronted with Malcolm right now, so I wiggle my way out of Harry's arm and try to walk past the two. But when I do so, Malcolm grabs me by my arm and stops me in my tracks.

"Seriously? Him? Is this to get back at me?" He asks, the seriousness in his tone matching the crease between his eyebrows.

"Don't worry Mal, I'm sure there's a girl out there who'd like to settle for your small dick." Harry remarks, clearly pleased with himself.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." I growl at my ex, clenching my jaw. My second attempt to walk away fails when he tightens his grip even more as he pulls me back, which causes me to stumble backwards.

Before I get the chance to yell at him to let me go, as the painful feeling in my arm had turned into a lingering sting, his hand has disappears. When I look up from checking the fresh scratches on my arm, I see Malcolm pushed against the wall with Harry's hand around his neck.

Louis and Zayn, two of Harry's friends, are suddenly standing behind him ready to fight if necessary. I'm so stressed about how quickly this situation escalated that I don't give myself time to wonder how those two popped up out of fucking nowhere.

"Touch her again and I swear to God you'll never see the light of day." Harry threatens, and I actually find myself being kind of scared by his voice and his demeanor. He backs up, turning around with a frown that fades when he spots my widened eyes.

He pushes Zayn and Louis out of the way, his eyes and hands immediately focusing on my arm that still has a red handprint on it, along with a few scratches from Malcolm's nails.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He tilts his head to see all the way around my arm, his fingers softly hovering over my elbow.

"'M fine." I huff, puzzled by how many sides of Harry I've seen today. "I'm gonna go home."

"I'll take you." He immediately offers, following me as I walk towards the door.

"I'll get a cab." I quickly make up, not wanting to be around him anymore. I walk out the front door at a fast pace, hoping he won't be able to keep up.

"Y/N! Stop!" Harry yells out, running until he's in front of me. "You're not going to take a cab, I'm going to take you home. C'mon, my car's across the street."

"What the hell do you care? You're not my actual boyfriend!" I say the last part a bit more hushed.

"I care because I'm a decent human being." He argues, setting me off more. I thrown my arms over each other.

"No you're not! A decent human being wouldn't use someone for the sake of their own personal vendetta!" I yell at him. Harry stifles out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing?!"

"I'm doing this because this is the only way Malcolm will leave me alone. You kissed me because you wanted to set him off, to make him mad. What if he decides to get back at me when I'm alone one day?"

"He won't. He's too much of a pussy for that." Harry growls, but I can see that he's starting to see the logic in my argument.

"That's not the point, Harry!" I groan, throwing my head back and taking a deep breath. "Look, if we're gonna do this, we've got to set the record straight. I don't mind you kissing me, but it'll only be in public places to keep up the act, not for personal, selfish reasons. Understood?"

After some silence, Harry finally answers me.

"Yeah, okay. 'M sorry." His keys dangle between his fingers that he plays with as a nervous habit. "Can I take you home?"

I nod, throwing my arms over each other to warm myself up from the breeze that just passed over, and we start walking to his car.

Part 2 here

#Harry styles #fanfic one shot #one shot #harry edward styles #one ditection #fake dating #enemies to lovers

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halfmylife · 11 months

Text

Meet Me in the Woods

Pairing Sihtric x reader

Summary You and Sihtric were young when you met, just children in the forest. Now you’ve grown up and gone your separate ways, only to be reunited.

Warnings none, mentions of violence if you squint real hard

A/N this was based on this lovely request and yes this will be a mini series hopefully but I’m not sure how many parts it will be just yet! Hope you all enjoy!

The man that stood before you was not the boy you once knew.

The boy that skulked through the forest was scrawny and always stuck to the shadows, never dancing with the sunlight that peeped through the trees. He always remained in the corner of your eye never to be caught.

No one else paid him much mind. The other children would often play amongst themselves, scurrying through the woods like rabbits chasing one another. You always remained by the small stream. It was peaceful there, quiet.

The boy would keep his distance but you could always feel his eyes on you, watching, observing your every move. Sometimes you would do the same. Every so often your eyes would meet. It took a while for you to finally speak.

But now it was you who stood observing his every move. The way his hand flexed around the hilt of the blade. How his eyes seared into Uhtred’s yet had an undercurrent of a plea.

This was that boy there was no doubt in your mind. This was your Sihtric.

He never looked your way.

Perhaps he didn’t notice you at first, shrinking behind your brother, watching the scene play out in front of you. Perhaps he was more focused on keeping Halig in place. Perhaps he didn’t even recognise you.

You couldn’t place the last time you saw him or the last time you spoke. You hated yourself for not being able to remember the last words you said to each other. All because they were never supposed to be your last words together.

The gods had pulled you away from one another only to reunite you once more. The only cost of all this was that he wouldn’t look your way.

“You are Kjartan’s man.” Uhtred barely looked taunted by this small display. You both knew he wouldn’t do anything.

“No, I’m Kjartan’s bastard son.” He spat back. His eyes were wild as he watched your brother carefully. “You are Uhtred Ragnarson and I wish to serve a warrior and a lord. A true lord.”

“If you believe me to be these things then put down your sword.” Uhtred spoke nonchalantly, challenging the man before you. He hesitated.

“You guarantee my life?” His voice became shaky as he started to look around. Swords were already drawn, yours included.

“Put down your sword.” Uhtred urged, stepping a little closing keep his gaze set on the shaking boy in front of him. You were sure he met your eyes if only for a second.

“Kill him.” The priest beside you shouted. You had half the thought to put your blade to him but knew Uhtred wouldn’t be happy if you did.

“No!” Uhtred snapped back, barely casting him a glance, still focused on Sihtric. He lowered his voice again. “Put down your sword.”

He did. Sihtric dropped the sword and stepped back. Halig darted from him, watching carefully for a moment to strike. Not that it would ever come. If Sihtric had bested two of them whilst tied up you doubt Halig would get the upper hand now.

“I can be of use to you lord.” His eyes were wide and he was barely holding himself up.

“He’s nothing but a heathen kill him!” The priest was shouting again. Once more and you were certain you would step in.

“No one is to move.” Uhtred ordered, casting a look directly at the man who continued to protest.

“Kill him now!” He shouted. Uhtred turned on him before you had the chance.

“I said no one is to move and no one is to speak but me! No one.” Uhtred’s voice matched the priests but was far more commanding. The forest was silent as everyone looked on. “What’s your name?” Uhtred stepped forward and you were certain your heart stopped beating as if anticipating the one name you were hoping for.

“I am called Sihtric, lord.” It was him. You were right, that nagging in your stomach had been right. It was your Sihtric. “Please, I’m not loyal to Kjartan and never can be.”

Uhtred paused for a moment, considering everything he’d just heard, studying the boy in front of him. You had once trusted a boy in the woods. Now here stood a man in the woods, asking to swear fealty to your brother. Could you trust him like you used to?

“You swear your sword is mine?” Uhtred asked quietly.

“On Thor’s hammer.” He gripped his pendant with shaky hands as he swore an oath. “I do lord, I swear.”

“Then you have my protection.” He nodded. With a breath of relief, Sihtric sank to his knees, bowing his head.

“Lord, thank you.” He muttered so quietly it was barely audible. You heard him. You heard every word. “Thank you.”

“Sihtric is with us now, he serves in King Gutred’s army.” Uhtred turned his back, leaving Sihtric on his knees and the rest of the crowd quietly confused.

Everyone dispersed, barely glancing at the kneeling Dane. Not you. You remained, still clutching your sword, watching him carefully. You wondered if everyone left, how long would he stay there before asking for someone to untie him or to give him food.

You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t do that to the boy you once knew.

“Do you intend on kneeling all day?” You asked as you approached him. Sihtric’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant.

There was a wave washing over you, dragging you down beneath its depths as you looked at him but you could tell that he was only floating at the surface.

“Give me your hands.” You spoke quietly, sheathing your sword and opting for a dagger instead. He finally stood up holding out his bound hands to you as if begging to be freed without saying a word.

“Thank you, lady.” His voice shook less as he spoke and you could feel relief washing over him as he visibly relaxed. You tried to hide the pain of him calling you lady. He had never called you that, not once. It was clear he no longer recognised you.

“I am no lady.” You mumbled u see your breath, slicing through the ropes that bound him. Taking a step back, you let your eyes run over him. He was still scrawny perhaps but he also carried muscle, especially in his arms. You shook the thought off. “I hope you intend to keep your word Kjartanson.”

“My sword is his, I will serve him.” He argued, gaze intense as he watched you back.

“Good.” You closed the gap between you, standing inches from him, looking nowhere else but his eyes. “My brother will not hesitate to kill you if you betray him.” You watched as the words settled over him. The ways his features softened as he realised what you’d said. Not the threat, no he finally realised who you were.

No longer the lonely girl in the woods. No longer the girl who picked flowers in the fields and brought them to him. No longer the girl who would stay until dark talking to him. Now you were a shield maiden. Now you were a warrior.

“Neither will I.”

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #reader fic #reader insert #x reader #sihtric fic #tlk sihtric #sihtric #sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric x reader

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whyareyouhere66 · 1 year

Text

JJ Maybank x Male Reader - You Are Home.

JJ Maybank *Outerbanks* x male kook reader [Sarah’s brother]

I did it, just like I said I would. Enjoy y’all. [Two more days till season 3!]

“It's always have and never hold

“You've begun to feel like home…”

[-The Fray, I’ll Look After You, 2005]

Outer Banks, North Carolina. More specifically, Figure Eight.

The air that whirled around him was warm, the island’s nonchalant charm lulling him into a sense of calm. Sure, the faint arguing that drifted in from downstairs was distracting, but alas- in Y/n’s tired state he wanted nothing more to ignore it, and stay in the welcoming breeze from the window sill of the large, white house.

In his hands he twisted and untwisted the cap of his water bottle, eyes still watching over the navy blue shadow reflecting from the sky. He tried focusing in on the sounds coming from outside, the wind’s song flowing through the ocean waves around the corner. However this proved to be more and more difficult, when he repeatedly broke out of his zoned out state and was dragged back into the growing yelling coming from Ward and Rafe downstairs.

Rafe’s persistent arguing, the frustration becoming more and more clear in Ward’s normally calm, manipulative tone.

“Hey, please let’s just-“

“No- no I’m done talking about this.”

“Let me finish, Rafe….”

Y/n let out a frustrated groan, after Rafe had blown yet another college interview it seemed Ward’s patience was bubbling down to the final straw, dragging the rest of the family into it as they heard and watched it all in the emptiness of the house.

Y/n forced his gaze away from the outside world, looking around at his dimly lit room. Perhaps he should go to see Wheezie, check on Sarah. He knew how the latter especially hated conflict, though Wheezie herself seemed more drawn into her phone recently.

But it was never a waste to check in.

The h/c boy steps away from the white window sill, closing and locking it as he’d been taught.

The bright lights from the hallway jumped at him, his eyes taking an extra moment to adjust as the downstairs argument became more clear. It seemed everyone in the house had been more on edge recently, Ward tensing at short conversation and Sarah beginning to pull away more and more.

Y/n himself had always found himself closer to the side than anything, both him and Wheezie often being sat on the bleachers while the rest played at the game. Ward could acknowledge them as his kids, drag them around to events and all, but they each knew that they were never his first priority.

Sarah, center of attention of course, had it all laid out for her since day 1. A legacy, a throne of you will, being built for her the day Ward laid eyes on her- his daughter, his child. She was his pride and joy, leaving the rest of the family to sit and applaud as he spoiled her.

Y/n used to fight for it, too. Being born solely a year prior, his naive, 6 year old mind could never grasp why Sarah had been deemed the golden child. He still couldn’t really, but overtime it became more and more clear that nothing would ever change. And while he still found himself there, by the same window sill he had been today, he looked out at the family’s extravagant garden and wondered- “why?”

Rafe was the same way. Being born first in the family he still found himself pushed off to the side, set to watch his father grow instead of growing there with him. However, unlike Y/n, he never accepted it. He clung to any bits or pieces of his father he had, wanting nothing more to impress the man.

But Ward Cameron was a hard man to impress, especially when it came to the majority of his own blood. And when you stumble as often as Rafe himself had, another rung in the twisted, family ladder falls.

The hallway, covered in old paintings and dainty floral wallpaper, led Y/n down its paths until he found himself at Wheezie’s room.

2 knocks, 3, and Y/n stands awkwardly in front of the tall white door.

“Wheezie?” He calls, looking at the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. A ringing silence fills the hall, as he receives no answer.

“Wheezieeee, you alive in there?”

Curiously, the h/c grabs the golden handle and twists- peaking his head into the room.

Lights still on, he found his sassy little sister asleep on her bed- curled into a ball blended with the comforter. He paused for a second, wondering how she managed to sleep through the houses overwhelming ringing, as well as the mindless and repeated shouts from all around. But when his eyes landed on the small, white buds poking out of her ears and tangling with her hair he put it together.

“Smart kid..”

His hands slide up the wall, reaching the light switch before he flips it off.

“G’night, weirdo” he mumbles, closing the door behind him as his bare feet pad down the hallway once more.

It was at this point that Y/n decided against checking in on Sarah, knowing that not only their somewhat strained relationship would create an awkward tension, but also that the chances of her sneaking out her window again were far over likely.

So instead the teen trudged down the stairs, making a beeline to the kitchen to replace the water bottle he’d been fidgeting with just minutes before.

The further down the long staircase he walked, the more he was able to see of the rest of his family.

The tense fighting between Rafe and Ward had settled into the living room, stray documents and pamphlets scattered across fancy glass coffee tables as one man stood on each side.

They went back and forth, back and forth with the blonde boy starting, his father following closely in suite.

With the roll of his eyes, hand sliding down on the wooden banister, Y/n neared the bottom of the staircase.

“Dad I don’t need to go to college- I’m fine here.”

“Yeah? Yeah well I’m not Rafe. This is not…”

Rose watched on uncomfortably, sat in a stool next to the kitchen’s island. With an open laptop in front of her, and a half empty glass of wine, she stared on at the two with her eyebrows furrowed. Y/n could see her now, stepping off the final stair as he untwisted the lid of his water bottle. Back now turned to his father and brother, he could only see her in front of him.

The h/c heard voices rise, the urge to go back up to his room growing stronger in his mind.

“I knew I should’ve checked on Sarah-“

Just as he steps forward again, no less than 10 feet from the staircase, he heard it.

The painful slap, a harsh hit of skin on skin contact, echoes through the now silent room. He could see Rose’s eyes widened, sitting up straight suddenly as she stared in shock.

Y/n freezes, slowly and almost hesitant as he turns around in his spot.

Rafe’s face was turned away, mouth agape. Ward’s hand was still outstretched, a soft and lamented look filling his eyes as he seemed to finally realize what he’d done.

The fights had been happening for weeks now.

But never had it ever gotten physical- not once. Ward always took Rafe for granted, this was well evident in the claustrophobic walls of the Cameron house. But Ward had enough sense to not bring it to a physical level, his heart belonged to his family, he never purposely damaged that.

In a small moment of panic, Ward stepped away. His hand retracted, firm against his chest as he cleared his throat.

“Rafe-“

“Wow, dad…wow.”

The blonde’s voice is full of malice, chuckling deeply as he turned to look at the man. His voice lowers to a whisper again, eyebrows furrowed down.

“Wow.”

In the matter of a minute, perhaps two, Rose is up and rushing forward to stop the fight like she’d been wanting to for minutes on end. Blood rushed away from Y/n’s knuckles, his grip on the bottle tightened extremely. In the back of his mind he still heard them, Ward rushing to his own defense as Rafe riled himself up more. Rose’s desperate, annoying pleads as she stood between them.

But he wasn’t truly there, not present in the moment. His head screamed at him to leave, the need for fresh air bubbling over as he felt too fed-up with his family to stay another moment.

And so Y/n left, stormed out of the building before the other 3 could do more than notice him.

Swiftly grabbing the car keys off the counter, stuffing his feet into his shoes, the h/c rushed out to his car and ducked into the drivers seat.

He knew he hadn’t been the one to get slapped, the one to yell and scream in the fights. But if he had to sit in his room one more night, the air thick and heavy from this scrambled family’s tension he just might suffocate.

Trees blurred past him, eyes zoned onto the road ahead of him as his brain went into autopilot- driving him to the one place he felt he must be.

“JJ…”

The blonde boy, although a Pogue, offered him an embrace like no other. It should feel wrong, it’s supposed to be, but for whatever reason it didn’t, it felt right. Y/n could never recall how they’d come to be- in fact at the beginning the boys tried keeping it at “no strings attached”. But, they couldn’t help it- he felt like home.

JJ’s laugh, his voice, the warmth that would emit off his body whenever Y/n got too close. He wasn’t supposed to love him, his family’s reputation laid on the line- but he just didn’t want to stop himself. This wasn’t the first time one of them had run off to meet the other in the heat of the moment, sometimes in the middle of the night, others simply in broad daylight. It seemed the small compass engraved into Y/n’s brain was constantly pointing in JJ’s direction.

The more these thoughts flowed through Y/n, the more agitated he grew as he sought out the comfort he needed. His grip on the wheel was firm, mind a haze as he could see JJ’s near empty house coming into view. After the seemingly hundreds of times driving here, as if it was muscle memory, Y/n had barely realized he had made it to the Cut.

Y/n came to a stop in front of the house, taking a sharp breath. He snatched the keys from ignition, hopeful eyes leading him out of the car and onto the porch. That house, so different from his own, lured him in yet again.

All his thoughts seemed to fizz inside his head, bubbling and sizzling away so distantly, yet so present he could hear them still. Keys gripped in his hand tightly, fist knocking against the old door no more than 3 times before he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Answer the door, Maybank…” the teen mumbled, running a hand through his hair as his felt his muscles tensed in his shoulders.

Inside some shuffling was heard, the squeaks of door hinges alerting Y/n as he spun around to meet the blue eyed boy.

“Y/n? What-“

He looked confused, immediately taking note of Y/n’s dazed face and disheveled appearance. In the back of his mind, he felt he knew why Y/n was there.

Y/n opened his mouth to talk, stepping forward. JJ didn’t wait for him, jutting his head towards the door as to invite the h/c inside.

It wasn’t too long before Y/n was situated at the couch, fed up and frustrated. JJ followed close behind him, stopping at the door way almost hesitantly, for he’d only seen the boy act that way a handful of times. It was more recent that the two began to open up to each other, the intimacy they would share building an odd sense of trust, a safe space within each other that before they didn’t know they were capable of.

Though JJ had noticed that almost each time, it was due to something from that of the Cameron house. And so, he had a feeling he already knew what this was about.

The blonde moved forward from the door way, until he was standing in front of Y/n on the couch. The latter was almost doubled over, curled into himself with his elbows on his knees to hold his head up. His chest rose up and down heavily, fingers tangled with his h/c hair. JJ raises one eyebrow, sitting on the small table just a foot or so in front of the sofa.

“Y/n? Hello, you with me? What happened?”

Y/n sucks his teeth, hands sliding down his face.

“I’m so done with them, JJ.”

He didn’t have to say any names for the blonde to understand, it was almost always the same 2 or 3 people. And so he doesn’t ask any more questions, instead leaning closer to the boy in an attempt to give any sort of comfort.

JJ Maybank didn’t know too much about comfort, after all.

Years of not having the right comfort, not knowing how to give it, etc lead him to taking guesses, cracking jokes until one of the Pogues finally told him he wasn’t being helpful.

Perhaps, that’s why he always felt so attracted to Y/n Cameron.

“-I’m so fucking sick of it, they don’t,” Y/n pauses, trying to think of the right words to describe his mess of a family, “they fight, then pretend it’s all fine. And I normally can suck it up, or whatever, but I just- right now-“

He stumbles over words, frustration building up until he’s saying too many things at once to finish one thought, before another starts.

However he’s cut off, rambling suddenly turned silence as he feels JJ’s hands now cupping his face. The boy had leaned forward, sitting just on the edge of the coffee table, his face a mix of confusion and worry. Y/n’s shoulders drop, melting into the warmth of JJ’s hold.

“Hey, hey it’s alright-“ JJ comforted, finally getting a voice over Y/n’s thoughts. His e/c eyes finally move to meet the bold blues of JJ’s, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Just breathe, ok? I’ve got you now..”

Y/n listened, his shaky hands moving to rest on top of JJ’s, his face sandwiched in the middle. Eye contact never breaks between the two as the blonde coaxes Y/n into steady breathing, thumb shifting gently to rub comforting circles into his cheeks.

As Y/n finally feels a sense of stability, now much more aware of the floor under his feet and the walls that surround him, he laughs. It’s not awkward, much closer to embarrassed than anything, and it’s just enough to bring a small sense of relief into JJ’s system.

“I’m sorry, that was, sudden.” He laughs out, tilting his head up to the ceiling. But JJ doesn’t accept that, shaking his head.

“Nope- no. No saying sorry.” He states firmly, his blonde hair falling messily across his forehead. He stands up, bringing the h/c up with him. Their hands have now separated, leaving a lingering warmth across the other teen’s face where they had been before.

Y/n doesn’t even get a moment to protest, as JJ has already swung an arm around his shoulders and leads him to his bedroom.

“JJ-“

“Nope, nah uh.”

He turns around, them now standing in the middle of JJ’s messy room. “You-“ he jabs a finger into Y/n’s chest, “-just had a panic attack, amigo, you’re staying over here tonight.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, a smile plays at his lips, amused. He no longer had any intentions of protesting, knowing that he didn’t want to leave anyways. Instead he turned around to watch JJ scrummage through his closet, following the boy’s figure with his eyes.

A minute passed, standing in comfortable silence. And as Y/n continued to stare at JJ, a playful grin pulled the corners of his lips.

“You just call me ‘amigo’?” He asked, tapping his fingers on the dresser.

JJ paused, turning to look at him over his shoulder.

“Yes, actually, I did.” He replied, grabbing a sweatshirt from the closet and tossing it to Y/n. Neither boy made a move to change, though, nothing else than Y/n pulling the old “North Carolina” sweater over his head and running a hand through his hair.

“And you’re giving your ‘amigo’ a sweatshirt? How sweet-“ he teased, JJ simply rolling his eyes as the incident merely a few minutes prior seemed to be left behind. JJ didn’t know why he gave Y/n that sweater, this was the first time he had done that. Perhaps it was something in the way Y/n:s eyes had been so red and wide before, he wanted to see comfort instead.

The blonde settled onto his bed, Y/n following close behind and kicking off his shoes. He laid down next to him, shuffling around as he falls into the pillows.

“Better not cuddle me, Cameron.” JJ joked, although said in a flat tone it wasn’t hard for Y/n to know he didn’t mean it. He would make jokes like that quite often, actually- Y/n already knew the outcome.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He jokes right back, getting comfortable on his side.

But then as the minutes go by, hands ticking away slowly on the clock, it was predictably JJ himself who began to inch closer and closer.

Y/n peaked one eye open, the warmth radiating from him so close, as his breath fanned lightly across his shoulder. Happens everytime.

“What were you saying, Maybank?”

“Shut the fuck up and cuddle me.”

Blunt, yes, but in no more than a split second Y/n found his legs entangled with those of the blonde, ducking his face into the crook of JJ’s neck as a strong sense of home overcame him.

This happened often, the teasing jabs that would only lead to such small space between their bodies. Though, that is how they liked it. Not even the beating heat of the summer could stop it, the restrictions that kept them apart in public but pulled them so close together in private.

Because in private, there was no one else but each other to keep them company.

#x male reader #jj maybank x male reader #outerbanks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #JJ Maybank x Cameron reader #Obx

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rainnmaybank · 2 years

Text

Maybe We’re Not So Different (part 2)

[part 1] [part 3]

vance hopper x fem! reader

characters aged up, high school, please see pinned for explanation/reasoning

playlist || master list

reader dynamic change for plot, i was listening to deftones well writing this and it shows

DETAILS DETAILS DETAILS

S L O W B U R N I N G

words: 2060

warnings: strong language, drug use(cigarettes), vance being vance, ooc vance, “mean” reader, injuries, mentions of bruises, a n g s t, OC’s for drama purposes

That night in the park stuck like glue to both of their minds, she was different then what Vance had heard. y/n had the same thoughts in her mind, she was right, he wasn’t as scary as he thought, though she’d never tell him that.

y/n skin was still painted in colourful bruises by mondays time, having spent her weekend alone in her room she held no desire for seeing anyone that day. She was no longer seen as the harmless quiet girl, the world around her changed their thoughts of her demeanour, i guess that’s what happens when you break a girls nose.

Pushing the heavy metal doors open, people watched her every step. Once flying under the radar of everyone to being in the spotlight wasn’t something y/n was fond of.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours felt like decades sitting through her classes, eyes burning holes through her skin. God all the fucking eyes, watching her, looking at her like she was some kind of display drove her mind crazy. Her skin burned hot like it would melt off at any given moment.

Her pace was quicker walking from one class to the next, sure she liked attention but not like this. Dirty looks and side eyes followed her everywhere she went, her veins pumped ice cold rage through her body, feeling like she could explode any minute.

y/n walked with her head down, colliding with another body. “fucking watch out dipshit” clenching her jaw as she looked up ‘fucking great’ she thought.

Bruce Yamada, she hated him right now. there he was standing directly infront of her. “watch out, might run into the wrong person” Bruce’s eyes shifted to Vance and his goons at the end of the hall, god he made her insides boil.

“At least he doesn’t get his dreams and reality confused” y/n intended to play her favourite game, gathering ever last calm nerve in her body, her lips dropped into an innocent smile. Bruce looked at the girl confused.

Lifting a piece of her hair, twirling it between her fingers. “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you, having to constantly come up with lies to keep yourself interesting to others” her voice was steady and soft, fake pout resting on her lips hand dropping back down to her books “poor boy, must be so exhausting being that boring” slightly shrugging her shoulders offering up a half smile and a small wave, y/n turned away leaving him there.

Bruce was bewildered over the words spoken to him, was she right? Did he lie to people about what he did? Well yeah, but didn’t everyone? y/n words slowly sunk deeper into him the more he recalled them.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

y/n wore an entertained smirk the remainder of that day, mind tricks where her favourite way of getting back at people. Sure it didn’t have an immediate impact like fighting did, but it lasted longer.

Making people question themselves, overthink the way they did things was just how she got revenge. Nobody expects the sweet girl from their math class to mentally fuck them with a few sentences.

She took pride in the way she challenged peoples thoughts, maybe it wasn’t something she should have been so proud of, but then again if people could physically attack each other, why couldn’t she psychologically do it?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Like any other night the girl found herself sitting in the park again, alone in the dark was when her mind spoke the most. Toxic air filling and leaving her lungs, whisked away by gentle winds.

Vance found himself drawn to walk the paths though the park again, he wanted to see her again. Never would he admit that, not to himself let alone speak it out loud. Without second thoughts that’s where he headed.

There she was, sat in a different place this time. the swings. Her back was turned to him but he knew it was her. It could have been her hair, it often fell messy down her back. Maybe it was the shoes, laces stretched and tightened endless times they reached the ground even when tied. Perhaps it was the steady steam of smoke that came from her hand.

she lived in solitary, he found that captivating.

Vance carried himself soundlessly towards the long haired girl, placing himself left of her. y/n sensed his presence before he was visible to her.

he was fervent, she found it admiring.

Without a word y/n reached in her pocket holding a now slightly squished pack of camels towards the boy. Vance’s fingertips brushed her cold fingers, pulling a dart and her lighter offered to him.

Eyes lingering to the left, y/n observed. Small sparks flickering off the flame, lighting the end of his cigarette. Fire illuminated his features.

He felt her gaze, he didn’t mind her eyes watching him. Vance didn’t smoke much but enjoyed how it felt with her. He felt at ease, silence was comforting when she sat next to him.

The world moved slower, both could breath.

“You could say hi you know” y/n spoke in a hushed tone rocking on her swing. He smiled whispering out a hello.

Smiles where strange, nobody smiled at him and he certainly didn’t smile at anyone.

y/n hummed, his fingers fiddled with the chains. Soon y/n finished her smoke standing from her seat, turning facing the blonded boy. Fingers shuffling through her pocket pulling out a crunched up piece of paper, Vance watched her confused when it was placed in his hand.

Without another word, y/n was off. vance watched her walk away till she was no longer in his sight.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Vance didn’t unfold that note right away, he waited till he was home. Sat in his bed watching his ceiling, humming coming from the stereo across the room.

His fingers once again fiddled, only this time unfolding the paper. He sat up smoothing out the crinkles the best he could.

He was confused why she gave him a note instead of just talking. Sure he understood why most people didn’t talk to him, but you were different. It was like you challenged him.

Vance sighed, his hair fell when he looked down at the piece of paper. She has pretty writing.

“words loud, actions louder, but feelings loudest. i feel sane with you”

Infatuated over simple words that held deeper meanings Vance read the lines over and over. He didn’t fully understand what y/n had meant but something inside his mind told him he felt the same.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Emily was back the next day meaning everyone was now focused on her and her bandaged nose. y/n really didn’t know how much damage she did that day. Emily’s face was bruised pretty bad.

She deserved it.

The brown haired girl often blew things out of proportion. Expanding the truth to the point it was almost a lie.

y/n was just grateful all the attention was finally off her.

y/n stood at her locker changing her books and gathering her homework.

Her body was shoved by strong shoulders into her locker, she turned to say something stopping herself seeing it was Vance.

He looked down at something on the floor then back to her as he kept walking. y/n looked down spotting a crinkled up paper of his own.

She picked up the ball unraveling it as she stood back up.

“you’re not that bad. park tonight.”

y/n smiled folding the note up neatly placing it in her pocket. She was always at that park, he just didn’t know that yet.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She got to the park at her usual time, Vance a few minutes later. They took place on the swings again. “Hey” y/n smiled softly at the curly haired boy “Weather man said it’s gonna rain soon”

Vance nodded “Yeah i saw that” y/n shrugged handing him one of the two cigarettes left in her pack, he took it waiting his turn with the lighter.

y/n watched the cloud rolling in above, Vance watched her. Oblivious to his stare she smiled “I love the rain” he’d remember that. who liked the rain? “Why? It makes everything wet and gross”

She looked at him questioningly “I find it lovely, rain makes me happy” y/n took a deep breath “It’s like the world is washing away all the bad things.” He never thought like that.

“I guess that makes sense” he shrugged, both of them falling silent. It stayed like that till it was time for them to part. y/n stood first. “I like the silence” she smiled down to him “Until next time” and with that she left and the rain came.

Vance walked home, recalling how she thought of the rain. Maybe it really wasn’t that bad, maybe he liked the rain too.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Vance became a staple in her nightly routine.

Often times the pair sat in silence, listening to how the earth talked at night. Glancing at one another through the few minutes they shared each night. Eyes fell into eyes, like souls spoke to each other. Small innocent touches, pinkies linked with one another. The time they spent together started getting longer and longer and yet only a hello was spoken each time.

Vance dropped a note into y/n’s palm one night before he left. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do that, it was their way of speaking to each other.

“let’s talk”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

y/n braced herself for that night, not having spoken but a few sentences to each other over the past few weeks they’d know one another. She sometimes wondered how he’d speak to her. his notes where often short, she kept each one in the top drawer of her bed side table.

She wouldn’t expect it but he too kept each one of her notes, safely hidden away in his closet.

y/n made him feel warm, Vance made her feel understood. Things neither of them had felt before.

Vance was there in his usual spot, the left swing, when she arrived that night. y/n took her place, following their routine offering him a stick from her pack in which he took.

y/n noticed his knuckles bruised and split, she looked at her own hand, hers where scared from when she’d used violence.

Over the weeks they noticed the ways the other dealt with those who pissed them off.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

y/n wasn’t always quiet, matter of fact she really wasn’t. If you knew her well she could talk for hours. she also wasn’t as nice as people believed. Like Vance she had things that sent her into a spiral. Only well vance physical hurt, y/n did it mentally. She stuck more, biting at peoples souls rather then making them bleed.

Vance didn’t understand why she chose words over pounding someone’s face in, while y/n didn’t understand why he chose momentary pain over a lasting mark.

The two of them where the same but so different, Vance made people panic, y/n made fear slowly creep into their minds.

Though not understand why one another chose different poisons, they admired eachothers effects on others.

Slowly Vance realized words would cut deeper and y/n found force would work faster.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Your bruises are pretty” her voice hummed smoothly with sounds of the night, he turned looking at her then his hand. He found it odd to complement the result of his violent tendencies, he appreciated it.

Reaching out he linked his pinky with hers, hands falling between two swings was comforting. “There for you” y/n looked at him brows knitting together. “How so?” Vance shrugged, eyes lifting off his hand meeting with hers “I didn’t like the way someone was talking about you”

y/n gave him eyes of awe, she’d never look at him like that. “Vance ‘pinball’ Hopper” he liked the way his name left her lips “That is the most romantic thing i’ve ever heard”

The way she admired his violence made him feel better, it wasn’t something he always had control over.

“I saw some make that girl cry earlier, what was that about?” he asked, she squeezed her pinky around his dropping her gaze. “A similar situation”

She didn’t see the way his eyes sparked. Someone speaking up for him? Vance never expected that, definitely not from you at that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

part 3

tag list

@scarlets-phases @sheer-nuisance @dudinhahoff @tyelikesbees

#vance hopper angst #vance hopper x fem!reader #vance hopper x you #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #the black phone angst #the black phone x reader #the black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #the black phone x you #robin arellano x reader #finney blake x reader #bruce yamada #bruce yamada x reader #angst #black phone x reader #tbp x reader

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danses-with-dogmeat · 8 months

Text

Q/U/X is for -- Ulysses

Writing for Ulysses always seems to transport me to another world, I swear, he just-- His way of speaking, and the general air about the man is all just... ethereal, in a way? I don't know, but he makes me feel like more of a poet than I've ever been, lol.

And the dialogue prompt he got had me on the floor, it's just SO accurate and perfect for him and Six. Ugh.

Anywho, I hope you guys like it!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

Pair: Ulysses x g/n! Six

Dialogue: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Word: Unite

Rating: SFW

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

“Um, well, I suppose I should be leaving, then. Ulysses.” Six stepped away from the pair’s close proximity slowly, backing up while still facing him.

To hold our eye contact, or to make sure I don't stab them in the back?

“You’re not leaving.”

Though the words commanded Six's attention, the way he voiced it was more of a question than an order.

Ulysses couldn’t tell if that put them at ease or not.

“Well, I… Why you’d want to be around me at all, after everything I’ve learned about myself... I don’t blame you for wanting me dead, is all. Figure I should leave before you act on it though, right?”

Six’s voice was nervous, but there was a sadness that Ulysses detected there as well. A shame, even.

They should feel ashamed for what they’ve done… But then, is the shame enough of a consequence on its own? Does it absolve them of their wrongdoings, if they are pained by it this way, even without memory of the action itself?

“What about my behavior has told you that I plan on acting on what I spoke about in our first meeting?”

Ulysses was closer to them now, looking down the point of his mask to their large eyes, wide with… was it fear?

Still?

“I don’t know, I just… I understand why you were so furious, why you sought me out, I couldn’t imagine… If I had a home, and someone took it from me, well, I’d like to think I would’ve done the same as you did. Only, maybe less honorably.”

A soft snort escaped the mask, and Six could see some semblance of sympathy shining within the dark depths of Ulysses’ intense eyes.

“That, in itself, is honorable to say.” They couldn’t pull their gaze from his, and as his compliment met their ears, a smooth tingle of relief wove up their spine. Ulysses could see it, from his perspective, the way they sought his forgiveness.

That too, was honorable.

He couldn’t help but admire the courier then. Then… and now. Now, as he shared his tent with them. A temporary home, but still some fragment of the place of belonging that they both craved so wholly.

And how could he blame them? With their memories, as shoddy and incomplete as the crude camps he’d often made himself to stifle that wound in his chest that the Divide was meant to fill.

They didn’t even know who they were, what they’d done, or why. It was a struggle he himself could not quite imagine.

“I can’t believe I’m here…”

Ulysses heard them say, perhaps to themself, as they turned and dropped their pack back to its place near to his sleeping mat.

“I mean, I thought you hated me… That you would never forgive me, never stop… trying to kill me.”

“Hate and love are but cousins;” Ulysses told them, stepping closer as they rounded to face him again, “Passion drawn from deep within and showcasing itself in the most intense forms available to us. The difference is but one instant.”

And that instant is now.

Ulysses’ impassioned gaze told them, near amber in color, with the emotion blazing within them. The simple look itself sent an overwhelming shiver down the courier’s spine.

“But, hold on.” They said, before his stare had a chance to hold them prisoner for eternity, “Everything I’ve done, I mean… Your second chance, your home, a place away from the Legion, a new start, it was all yours, until me. How... how could you look past that?"

Ulysses could easily see the struggle within them from the outside, just as much as he heard it in their words.

Is it so hard for them to detect my own inner thoughts?

After the nights they’d shared, they’d had to share during the massive dust storm that could’ve claimed both their lives, had they not had each other; how could they not see the way his view of them has changed?

Six had seen him all those nights. His perseverance, his will, yes, that they knew of before the pair had properly even met. No, but those nights, they’d seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. The man behind the mask, the one who longs for a place to call his own, a place to belong, after a lifetime of feeling wrong.

Wrong for turning his back on the Twisted Hairs with the illusion of not having a choice, wrong for being a part of the Legion, the very same faction that murdered and enslaved his people, that eradicated them from the map and from memory. Then, maybe wrongly too, he’d turned his back on the Legion as well.

Had he no honor? Had he not a decisive mind? No allegiance? No loyalty?

Who was Ulysses, if not a Twisted Hair, if not a Frumentarius, if not a courier?

So wholeheartedly he had always formed his identity around that which he was forced to follow, to be a part of, even against his own wishes.

His wishes, that now he had the freedom to consider.

And Ulysses did.

Even now, he was considering Six. The courier who’d seen him, a blank slate, with not even themself for Ulysses to obsess over. No, now all was out in the open. No holotapes, no hiding, no mystery, and yet, Six accepted him, forgave him, allied themself with him...

It was true. Ulysses had made up his mind now, and he’d done it on his own, wholly.

“My new start?” He said, his voice rumbling so softly from within his mask, that Six had to lean in close to catch his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I merely had to reflect to see it. To look back on my past, and on yours. The way that you’ve shaped me, without even knowing it.”

Six blinked at him, and their mouth fell slightly agape in their shock.

“Our stories are comparable, Six. Both alone, with a rich past, but no idea who we truly are. Not when your memory was taken from you, and my individuality. Together though, I see a change in both of us. I see what I thought was stolen forever from me, by you.”

Ulysses took another step forward, his chest just barely brushing Six’s as he took a deep breath in, his eyes locked to theirs, dark hair curtaining an intense, but pleading expression.

And there it was again, that vulnerability that the ex-soldier, ex-spy, had never been able to show another living soul, and it was showing plain in his expression, sounding so clearly in his voice, that it was effortless.

Six made it effortless for him to be genuine with them.

It was something he could find himself getting used to, he thought.

“With you,” He continued, raising one hand to brush the roughened tips of his fingers to Six’s chin. Affectionate, but subtle. “I see a future for us both.”

#2k event #2k celebration #secret event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas dlcs #fallout nv #new vegas #fnv #courier six #ulysses fnv #ulysses #ulysses x six

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

Text

Where you left me Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, flashbacks etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 3 5570 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI

Bucky comes home

Once she’s alone, she really focuses in on her task.

It’s a little after 7pm when Bucky is finally on his way back to his suite. It had taken an extra 2 hours after the meeting had officially ended for him to shake Steve, and Sam, and their overly excited chattering, he’d nodded along for the most part, but had drawn the line at grabbing Y/N and heading to a bar for the night.

He’s tired. He’s more than tired. The nap he’d taken earlier has only worsened how badly his body needs to rest, and although he’d barely managed to force down the sandwhich and protein shake Steve had presented him with for lunch, he had, in fact, forced it down, not that it had done anything to ease the aching in his head.

The pressure behind his eyes is distracting, it’s throbbing, he’s squinting, even though the hall way lights are dimmed in the evenings.

He nearly trips over a cardboard box. That startles him. He mutters a curse and looks around.

Oh, god.

There are at least 7 half collapsed containers.

Despite himself, he panics. The route to his room is normally pristine, he doesn’t like the change, he can’t help but worry that something’s wrong, that maybe Y/N has left- that maybe someone came in and took her-

His door opens without any resistance when he touches it and then his heart stops.

He blinks jaw slack, frozen in position.

There has to be a mistake.

This, isn’t his room. This, is beautiful.

There’s a woven, intricate, piece of art is hanging over the bed, which is now made with plush, cream sheets- There’s a deep navy throw over the edge of it, it’s glowing in the light from the row of candles which are placed across his dresser, which now holds a few trinkets he recognises from Y/N’s apartment.

It smells like baking, like cinnamon and vanilla and home.

He takes a tentative step inside, terrified that he might do something wrong, that he might breathe too heavily and cause everything to melt away.

“Hey, handsome” a familiar voice coos, making his head snap to the right, away from his newly decorate bed- to her, “Long day?”

She’s wearing a soft cotton top, and shorts, her hair is damp and curly, face fresh and smiling.

Bucky Barnes has never felt luckier.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then he sees the rest of the room illuminated behind her silhouette.

His couch is in the same place, but now, instead of glaring white, the carpet beneath it is covered in a huge, pile rug- it’s coloured with areas of soft orange, deep turquoise and pastel pinks that have been woven in to look they paint strokes.

The glass coffee table is gone, replaced by a low, pine surface that looks old.

There’s art on the walls, there’s a framed picture of them both nestled amongst the budding collection of charcoal sketches.

Suddenly, he sees something that makes him tilt his head, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips, despite how exhausted and pained he’s been feeling all day.

Next to the edge of the couch, there’s a huge wicker basket; and it’s full, of thick, soft-looking quilts.

They’re different colours and fabrics, he can see the textures shifting in the folds that are escaping the edges of the containers.

“W-what’s that?” he asks, voice totally awed

Y/N follows his train of site, concerned that her plan has back-fired, that he hates the changes she’s made, that she’s offended him and over-stepped.

“This?” she asks, pointing towards the blankets

He nods, silent.

“It’s a basket full of blankets” she tells him, a little uncertainly

He gasps again, before looking at her with an expression so sweet that she can’t help but smile at him.

“Why?” he whispers, not understanding what he could have possibly done to deserve any of this.

“Because” Y/N replies softly, “Nobody is ever going to be cold in here”

Bucky feels his heart swell impossibly in his chest. He’s so overwhelmed that he barely hears the mechanical grind of his arm as it falls lamely by his side.

“Jesus christ, Y/N/N”

“Do you like it?” she asks at last, feeling a little nervous again, “I know it’s a lot, I can always-”

“Do I like it?” he echos, staring at her, now, instead of his new home, “Doll, I’ve- I’ve never seen anythin’ like it- I- I don’t know what I did to deserve this- to, to deserve you- I-”

Her lips are against his before he can finish speaking.

His hands find her waist- he tugs her in to his front, frantically trying to prolong the affection, to show her how much he adores her, how infinitely important she is to him

“Bucky” she purrs, finally breaking away for long enough to nuzzle into his cheek, “You really like it?”

“I love it” he tells her, turning to look around again;

Every time he blinks he notices something new, a new detail, a new object that has appeared during his absence.

“How did you do all this?” he asks when he spins to take in the kitchenette, and it’s new array of appliances, “Y/N/N, it’s been less than 6 hours”

She laughs lightly, padding over to the counters, opening the drawers to show him his new plates, they’re cream, and un-polished, rimmed with gold paint.

Their are matching bowls, and mugs, as well.

And, as Y/N tells him happily, he is now the proud owner of a proper espresso machine.

“I kept the jar of… uh, instant stuff you had, it’s up there” she nods to one of the higher cupboards, “and, I’m afraid the food isn’t arrivin’ until tomorrow, so the fridge is still a pickle only zone”

“The food?” he echos, wide-eyed

Y/N scoffs gently, arm reaching out to stroke his vibranium fingers, where they’re poised against the dark marble unit-

“Yeah, sweetheart, I ordered some groceries for us, but I didn’t think you’d mind a take out tonight?” she pauses, watching him blinking at her with an expression she still can’t quite classify, “I’ll cook for us tomorrow-”

“You don’t have to do that” he tells her, suddenly bursting with the need to let her know that he’s grateful, “This is so much, doll- it’s-you’ve- you’ve already done so much for me- I-”

“Hey” she coos, seeing how he’s quickly becoming flustered, “I know I don’t have to, I know you’re not asking, Buck- don’t worry”

He nods and starts playing with her fingers as she tickles them over his smooth metal palm.

“I… I’m just grateful, Y/N/N” he whispers, feeling the need to divert his gaze, again, “so grateful”

His eyes float over to the corner furthest from the window, to the spot on the floor to wear he’d confessed to sleeping earlier. There’s a huge pillow there now, it’s velvet and plush, and the softest shade of violet.

“Oh, sweetheart” she sighs, really seeing the sudden onset of emotion on his face, “It’s alright, come here”

As soon as her arms open in invitation, he moves into her embrace, he buries his face in her neck and takes what feels awfully like his first proper breath since that morning.

“How was the briefing?” she asks, not even attempting to move away from the hug now that his hands have slipped into her back pockets,

“Long” he mumbles, “Stevie’s over the moon, doll- so is Nat- they- they can’t wait to see ya properly, they wanted to take us out tonight, to, to celebrate-”

“They’ll just have to be patient” she chuckles quietly, kissing his hair, “We’ve got plans tonight”

“We do?” he asks, unsure, still hiding against her front, “What’re we doin?”

He doesn’t want to go out, or do anything other than this. He would, if she were to ask, but he really doesn’t want to have to be around loud noises, or crowds or-

“We’re staying in, orderin’ a pizza, and gettin’ an early night.”

Bucky is so relieved that he can’t help but laugh as he finally draws back a fraction, staring earnestly into her eyes.

“That sounds perfect” he says shakily, “I… I can’t think of anythin’ I’d rather do”

Y/N beams at his response, making him flush pink.

“Why don’t you get changed, sweetheart” she suggests kindly, seeing the tension in his brow, “is your head still botherin’ you?

He’s half way towards his dresser when he hears her,

“I…” he murmurs with a short nod, “I had lunch”

“Maybe you just need to get some proper rest” she says softly, sitting down on a stool by his newly renovated ‘breakfast bar’

“Maybe” he agrees absentmindedly, listening to her ask FRIDAY to place a ridiculously large order from their favourite pizza place.

He opens his draw and finds himself once again awestruck.

The old clothes he’s had since he’d first arrived at the tower are still there, but there are newer additions as well. He’d never gotten round to buying himself anything, he’d taken what he’d been given and been grateful. Steve had gifted him the leather jacket he wears for his birthday, and his combat gear had been updated by SHEILD, but the civilian items he had, were sparse and generic.

Metal fingers furl in the soft wool jumper that’s at the top of the newest pile of tops. It’s a deep teal, it’s so smooth that the sensors in his hand barely prickle at the contact.

He flips through the collection and sees at least 10 sweaters, all different colours, all ridiculously thick and comfortable looking.

“I guessed the sizes” Y/N admits from behind his shoulder, “but I figured you could do with some more layers”

“You shouldn’t have, doll” he murmurs, turning too face her, “you’re spoilin’ me-”

“That’s my job” she whispers, pecking at his cheek, “Plus, you’re always buyin’ me things, ‘bout time I evened it up a little”

He scoffs shyly, averting his eyes back towards the dresser.

“Thank you” he murmurs, too overwhelmed to counter her again.

Y/N takes that as a victory, she gives his arm a gentle stroke from behind, before heading back to the couch, where she curls up under one of their new selection of blankets, with the TV on a low volume, and a cup of real coffee on a coaster within reach.

Bucky dresses slowly, every movement making his eyes narrow with added discomfort.

He wears boxer shorts and one his new, thick, sweaters.

It’s endearing, the way he’s fussing with the hem, like he can’t believe it’s real, that it’s his, and nobody is going to take it from him.

Comfort, is a luxury. It’s something he never takes for granted.

For a long time, it hadn’t been something worth even dreaming about- not that he got to dream often- but now, it’s something he’s surrounded by, even if he chooses to avoid to most of the time.

It’s not always a deliberate act of self-punishment, although, sometimes, that’s exactly what it is. Mostly, it’s because it feels wrong, it feels dangerous, like a trap he’s been caught in before.

But with Y/N, beckoning him over, draped in soft fabric, and offering a warm, non-violent embrace, he can’t bring himself to care.

There isn’t any price, no matter how terrible, that he wouldn’t pay to be allowed to stay exactly where he is.

“I don’t deserve you, doll”

Y/N blinks up as he pads up to where she’s waiting,

“Of course you do, Buck- You deserve the world”

There’s a smile on her face that nearly makes him cry. He’s so grateful that he can hardly bare it.

He slips in on her flank, flesh arm wrapping around her shoulder, so she can rest her head on his chest;

She kicks the blanket she’s using over his body, covering his legs with the warm, knitted material and rubbing her shins against his.

Bucky feels his head loll back at the contact, and it’s only then that he realises all the pillows he’s surrounded by.

There are several, small cushions decorating the previously barren couch. They are varying shades of pastel pinks, and blues, and the two behind his neck feel so soft he finds himself wondering where she managed to find all these so quickly.

“I ordered it all this mornin’” Y/N tells him calmly, eyes rolling up to look at his face, “Whilst you were napping”

He squints, nuzzling the top of her head again, tucking her even closer to his side,

“How’d it get here so quickly?” is the only question he can think to ask,

“Money” she replies easily, looking back towards the TV, “and I pulled the Stark card, people make things’ happen if they think Tony’s involved.”

Bucky hums at that, still totally uncomfortable mentioning the man by name. It feels like more familiarity than he deserves, even though the billionaire has long adjusted to his presence, and is rarely anything other than civil.

“Has he been by to see ya’ yet?” he asks, knowing how important his friendship is to the woman he loves, “I bet he’s happy you’ll be close by for a while”

“He came by just as you left” she tells him, “We got lunch before he had to run back to the lab”

He smiles, happy that she’s had company, that she hasn’t been alone all day. Despite everything, he likes Stark, he respects him, and is genuinely grateful for the way he’s become so tolerant to his presence, and for the way he’s always keeping an eye out for Y/N, it makes him feel better knowing that he’s her friend, even though he suspects he’s more like a brother, with how long they’ve known each other, and everything they’ve been through.

“He helped me get all this sorted” she tells him softly, already anticipating the guilt her admission is going to breed, “He insisted, before you say anythin’- I told him not to, but he wasn’t havin’ any of it.”

To her surprise, Bucky just scoffs, before humming gently against her hair.

He’s too exhausted to do anything about the feeling of unworthiness that’s heavy in his gut. It’s been a fixture of his being for so long that it barely seems to matter anymore, even when it stirs to life, sending sparks of shame up to his chest, making him blush red and embarrassed at the idea of a man who’s parents he murdered, not only taking him in, but now helping shift furniture for his benefit.

It’s pathetic, really, laughable, that after everything, an act as small as this still provokes a reaction.

‘Sergeant Barnes, sorry to interrupt, but your food is outside- Ms Romanoff has offered to bring it to you-’

“I’ll go, FRIDAY, tell Nat not to bother” Y/N replies cheerily, ignoring Bucky’s offer to go instead.

He looks drained, he looks like the journey downstairs and back up might be a little too far, especially if the others are buzzing around.

Her suspicions are confirmed when he doesn’t fight her, when he lets her go without objecting or insisting on joining her.

It doesn’t take long, she does make a quick detour to the common room, where she presses a box of fries into Tony’s lap, pecking his hair and waving cheerily at the others before saying goodnight and bringing the rest of the food she’s carrying back to her new room.

Bucky’s waiting for her, almost exactly where she’d left him. His eyes are wide, hair a mess, and he’s drowning in gentle layers of fabric.

She grins at the sight, putting the pizza boxes and soda cans down on the coffee table, before curling up beside him, again.

They laugh at the dumb sit-com that’s running on the TV. They joke about the characters, and how they don’t act like anyone in the real world ever would.

They eat, Y/N teases Bucky about the smear of sauce that’s clinging to the corner of his mouth. She uses her thumb to wipe it away, and he kisses her knuckles, more affectionate than usual, which is saying a lot, considering he boarders on touch-starved at the best of times.

He’s delicate, it’s glaringly obvious, despite his attempts at hiding it behind surly, sarcastic commentary, and playful pecks at her cheek.

When she chuckles he’s fighting the urge to flinch, and he’s clinging to her fingers whenever she’s not using them to eat, and when he finishes his own pizza, she catches him looking at her, with wide, hopeful eyes.

She offers him what’s left of the one she’s been picking at, but he refuses with an expression that’s almost distressed, and she realises that he’s yearning for approval as opposed to any more food.

He’s trying.

“How’s your head?” Y/N coos, as he wonders back over to the couch, after having disposed of the empty cartons,

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, pressing against his skull to try and relieve some of the pressure that seems to only be increasing inside.

“Not great?” she guesses, voice deliberately tempered, as he crawls back into place beside her, “Let me see”

He looks at her curiously as she cups his cheeks in her hands.

His own palms fall away, back to the hem of his new jumper, he tugs at the material, watching at her openly as she starts to stroke his temples, nails barely grazing his hair line.

“Watcha’ doin, doll?” he asks, voice small and shy, “It feels good, it, it’s lovely-”

“Shhhh” Y/N hushes him gently, shifting one of her hands over, so she can run her thumb across his brow, “You’re really tense, sweetheart, try and relax a little”

“I’m… I’m sorry” he murmurs, letting out a frustrated breath as he tries to make his shoulders sag, “I’m not doin’ it on purpose”

“I know” Y/N soothes with a patient smile, “Don’t be sorry, Buck, it’s been a long few days”

It’s been a long few decades, he thinks sadly, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

She lightens her touch, caressing his cheeks, stroking the hollows under his eyes before tickling a line up across his jaw, to card back his hair. He keens into her fingers, almost purring in delight as she uses her knuckles to scratch at his head.

“Oh, god” he shivers, “Oh, god, Y/N/N”

It’s blissful, he can’t remember the last time someone just… touched him like this, just, gently, with no ulterior motive, without him having to earn it some how, or having to fear the consequences.

He supposes it will have been with Y/N, she indulges him often, she holds his hands, like they haven’t killed men double her size, she strokes his back when he can’t sleep, she kisses him, and lets him kiss her.

Still, almost a hundred years of solitary confinement, bar the occasional torture break, has left him desperately hungry for physical contact.

Skin on skin something he’ll never take for granted again.

There was a time, not so long ago, that he would have died (happily) or (not so happily) killed just for a moment of it.

Just for the most innocent, fleeting, brush of someone else’s skin against his own.

Hell, he’d have done just as much to have been allowed to feel his own hands against his body, and this, this is so much more than that.

His lower lip is trembelling, his eyes still wide and trained in on Y/N’s face. She can’t help but let one of her palms float down, to cup his jaw with her thumb sweeping across the pouting skin of his mouth.

“Hey” she purrs, “You doin’ okay?”

Finally, Bucky nods, tentative- afraid of discouraging the way she’s being so overt in her affection.

“Tired” he admits, voice cracking, “I- I’m tired”

Y/N hums in agreement, continuing to stroke his hair back,

“Where do you wanna settle?” she asks softly, “We can stay here… We can go to the bed… we can do whatever you want, handsome”

The bed looks inviting, but, he really, really doesn’t want to move.

“Can, can we stay here?” he asks, shyer than he’s been in a long time, “Please”

She beams at him, shifting a little so his head is settled in the dip of her lap, so one of her hands can loop across his chest, whilst the other stays against his brow.

He clutches the hand he can reach in his own, bringing it under the covers, so that he can play with her fingers.

“I- I- I- might” he gulps, “I- uh”

Her brows raise when he falls silent, letting out a frustrated breath and tensing his upper body involuntarily.

“I have nightmares”

That’s not new information. Y/N has spent enough nights with him to know about the terrors that plague him. She’s spent enough mornings trying to coax him out of his own head, to know, how violent his dreams can be.

She doesn’t remind him of that, though. She just nods considerately, before squeezing his palm.

“I’m stayin’ right here” he hears her promise, “nothin” she continues, “nobody, is goin’ to hurt you.”

The plates in his metal arm groan as he flexes his hand, bringing that one up to cup the one of hers that he’s already clutching to his chest.

“I.. I just, I should warn ya’-” he mumbles, “I- I’m worse, here- I-I-”

“You, are fine, sweetheart” she cuts in, “No matter what happens, okay? You’re goin’ to be just fine.”

“As long as I’ve got you” he murmurs, feeling her nails on his scalp again, “I- I don’t want to scare you off, Y/N/N- that's all”

Y/N lets out a laugh that’s almost silent, shaking her head as he looks up at her face.

“You’ve got me” she tells him, “I’m right here, I’m staying, right here, Bucky, I love you.”

He believes her. Despite the way he hates himself, despite the way that he can’t bring himself to consider that he might be worthy of Y/N’s affection, he believes that it’s genuine, and that if she really sees something in him that’s good, then maybe, just maybe, he’s on the right track after all.

“God, doll,” he whispers slowly, “I trust you- I, I really, I really trust you and, I- I know I tell ya’ often, but it- it still doesn’t seem like enough, I- I adore ya’…”

His words are so honest, so laced with heartfelt sincerity that Y/N feels herself blushing a little at his love-sick expression.

“Y’know-” she soothes, brushing a stray curl back away from his eyes, “-I think you might be the most beautiful man in the world”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a tightlipped smile that looks awfully boyish, even with the layer of thin stubble clinging to his jaw.

“and, for what it’s worth” he hears her drawl, “I adore ya’, too”

There’s a lilt of humour in her tone, but it’s gentle, it’s fond as opposed to mocking, and even though his cheeks once again fill with colour, he can’t help but think that it’s due to the way she’s still showering him in gentle touches instead of anything more humiliating.

A few seconds of quiet pass, Y/N could’ve been tricked into thinking that he’d fallen asleep, if he hadn’t flinched in place at a sudden burst of noise from the television that has been running all this time; the laugh track is glaring, she quiets it instantly, regretting the way the remote control is just far enough away for Bucky’s head to shift as she reaches for it.

“Sorry, handsome” she murmurs, sinking back into position with a sympathetic sigh, “Come on, get comfy, you’re alright.”

The nape of Bucky’s neck is aching now, too-

He shuts his eyes, rolling onto his side, so his cheek is nestled against into her thighs.

Y/N reaches down, stroking his arm as she pulls the blanket up higher towards his chest.

“Please, doll, don’t- don’t leave me here if I pass out”

Her heart cracks, she shakes her head, feeling his fingers tightening around her own, again.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere without you.”

He seems to like that, his shoulders unfurl a fraction, even though the tension he’s holding in his back pull them back together after a single, forced inhale.

Y/N lets her free hand trail down across his jaw, she rubs her thumb in a careful circle over his temple, seeing the way the muscle that’s visible seems to relax a little under the attention;

“Good?” she whispers, her own head finding a pillow, so she can settle too-

“So good” he murmurs, hoping that she’s not thinking about stopping.

“Good” she says decisively.

Now that she’s certain that she’s not adding to his discomfort, she readies herself to continue the rhythmic tracing of his face until he’s deep enough asleep to stay that way without it.

He grumbles a little, whispering complaints about the show that’s still running in the background, but refusing her offer of shutting it off. All in all, she’s pleasantly surprised with how easily he drifts off on her lap.

She stays awake for a few hours, watching television half-heartedly, and stroking his cheeks. Occasionally, she catches herself soothing the unconscious man with murmured terms of endearment; He seems to like it, even though she doubts he can actually hear her, with the way he’s snoring.

That makes her smile, him being deep enough asleep to snore.

Before long, Y/N is past out too, with one hand still clutching his under the covers, the other laced through his thick mess of hair.

He stirs a few times during the night, shifting a little to mewl in place against her front, body tensing and shaking until she reacts, until her fingers grazing his temples as she hushes out a calming breath to quiet him.

“Baby” she whispers, when she hears him whining into her chest, “Baby it’s alright”

Despite the fact that it’s late, that he’s been passed out for hours, by now, Bucky seems to hear her.

His shoulders unfurl, and as she blinks at him, ignoring the sleep clouding her vision, she’s almost certain that she catches him smiling.

“That’s it” she praises, unable to hold back, “sweetheart”

Her thumb grazes his cheek, drawing a shaky breath from his lungs.

“Y/N” the sleeping figure sighs, nuzzling into her collar-bone, “is…is everything alright?”

Bucky’s eyelids flicker as he teeters on the verge of waking fully, his voice is so quiet that Y/N has to strain to hear him;

“Yeah, baby” she’s quick to reply, “everythings’ alright, you’re restin’, you’re doin’ real good”

She shuffles, feeling the weight of him adjust too, his head staying firmly against her chest.

“l-love you” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing the one of hers that he’s been clinging too all night, so that it can float up to the hem of her shirt, where it tangles in the fabric, “can, can I keep this sweater?”

That exhaustion ridden question pulls a quiet, genuine laugh from her chest. She nods, kissing his hair and guiding his cheek up so that she can plant a kiss against the stubble.

He swoons at the tenderness of the gesture, he’s desperately grateful to be awake enough to feel the warm tickle of her lips against his face.

“Of course you can” she soothes, “You can keep everything, it’s yours, it’s for you”

It’s his.

The smile he dons is drowsy, his eyes are still shut, he’s still, mostly asleep, but he’s aware enough to keen out towards her voice, towards the gentle embrace she’s shrouding him in.

And just like that, he’s silent again.

Y/N follows suit, slipping back down into unconsciousness almost instantly.

Another few hours pass, the world outside spins from dusky grey to deep, starless black, and everything is peaceful, until Bucky next whimpers.

This time, the noise is strangled, it’s loud enough to rouse Y/N almost instantly, her eyes training in on him, and his parted lips as the source of the disturbance.

His body is shaking, the heavy, pliancy that had been filling him before, replaced with cramp-inducing stiffness.

She strokes his hair, again, repeating her earlier words of assurance.

When he wakes enough to feel her fingers, he shudders, before begging her not to stop, control waining at the soft tug against his brow.

“I won’t” she promises him gently, hating the way his words are cracking and so blatantly laced with desperation, “I’ll keep goin’, I’m right here”

He nods a little, metal fingers tugging anxiously at the hem of his new jumper.

It’s soft and he loves it.

He loves the idea of having things again, things that nobody can take from him.

He loves her.

He loves her more than any of it- suddenly, he’s reaching over to hold onto to her waist, smooth fabric totally forgotten.

“Sweet, sweet boy” Y/N murmurs indulgently, brushing his cheeks again, “what woke you up, huh?”

His brow furrows, teeth tugging at his lower lip until he lets out a nervous breath,

“I-I- was havin’ a bad dream” he admits, blinking up at her in the dark, “I was, I was on my own”

Y/N shakes her head, pecking at his brow.

“You’re with me” she reminds him softly, “You’re with me, and you are never, going to wake up on the floor alone, ever again.”

There’s something about time she’s spent sleeping with him tucked, safely in her arms that makes her words come easily, without hesitation.

Her mind is clouded, she’s being pulled back towards sleep with every deep inhale she’s managing to take, but still, she knows what she’s saying is true.

and so does Bucky.

He keens out in response to her promise, his hands tightening around her, his nose rubbing against the skin of her throat as a soft, muffled sob leaves his lips.

The idea of him being woken by some terrible nightmare, the idea of him coming round in a fit of panic, and throwing himself to the ground as he tries his best to remember where, or when he is, is suddenly even more sickening than it had been earlier, in day light, when the exact patch of floor he’d resigned himself to resting on had been plainly visible.

“Never” she repeats, voice melting into his hair, “never, I promise”

Blue eyes are on hers, they’re tired, they’re bloodshot and shining wet, in the dim light of the room.

“I…I’m sorry I upset you” he whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean too”

Y/N feels her head tilt, she’s confused, and it shows.

“What are you talkin’ about?” she asks, stifling a yawn as she reaches over to tuck a stray curl back behind his ear, “you haven’t done anythin”

“Earlier” Bucky murmurs, “When… when I told you, when I told you where I- where I used to sleep, it- it upset you, I- I shouldn’t-”

His remorse is palpable. Y/N guides him in for a kiss, a proper kiss, against his lips, that makes his breathing slow.

“I wasn’t upset with you” she tells him firmly, breaking away enough to let him rest his brow on hers, “I was upset for you, Bucky, there’s a difference.”

Even in the dark, she can see the cogs turning in his mind. She smiles, and rubs her nose against his, treating him to another gentle kiss before cupping his jaw in her free hand.

He’s still clinging to the other one, he squeezes her palm and blinks slowly, looking over at the digital clock that’s being projected against the far wall.

It’s 4am. He’s usually wide awake by now. He’s usually coming round from some terrible dream, or trying to run around the compound’s track in a bid to burn off the remnants of adrenaline, and kill time until he can call Y/N, or join Sam or Steve to spar.

But now, he doesn’t have to worry about any of that, he’s draped in warm, soft, fabric that is so dense he can feel it despite the layer of brushed wool he’s wearing. He’s pressed, tightly against his lovers chest, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he could just…go back to sleep.

Y/N seems to be have been considering the time, too, and she seems to have come to a similar conclusion, regarding what she wants to do.

“Whadd’ya say, sweetheart” she coos, carding his thighs with her legs, boxing him in and drawing him back into position, “we’ve got nowhere we need to be until later, why don’t we get some more sleep?”

He smiles, tentative and hidden into her chest, before nodding, stubble grazing her skin-

“That sounds’ perfect” he whispers, half slurring

1 | 2 | x | 4 | 5 | 6

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #fluff #x reader #drabble #series #BBwhereyouleftme

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opticfile · 3 months

Note

so cool seeing more hetalia writers omgg!!! do u think u could do a china x f!reader ? something like a first date and yaos suuuuper nervous,, ty if u do! ^.^

✧ came back to drop this rq, not even a big china fan but i was feeling it

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // fluff

Yao Wang does not get nervous.

He is above such immature, elementary feelings. He is far beyond that kind of thing, he would never be caught dead feeling nervous over a first date. He’s gone on hundreds, he’s wooed many before you, and he has never been nervous.

The way his hands twitch as he sits at his table is not because he’s nervous. Nor is his almost frantic searching of the dining floor, eyes darting between the waiters walking past him and other customers laughing joyously, looking for your face in the crowd. The way his stomach does flips everytime he sees a girl that looks like you walk through the doors is simply because he’s hungry. The tapping of his foot under the white-cloth clad table is due to impatience.

Yes, thats it. He’s not nervous, he’s impatient. You're taking too long to get here, its almost the time you agreed upon meeting at and you’re still not here. He expected you to be more punctual, and he’s not impressed.

He wonders whats taking you so long. Maybe you were being lazy and put off getting ready. Or you’re a bad driver and got lost. Perhaps you’re one of those high maintenance women, the ones that have to take hour long showers and spend twice as long on your makeup and outfit. He wonders if you’ve changed your outfit too many times. He hopes you're wearing a nice dress, one that hugs your figure maybe. He would hate for you to forget a coat, then he’d have to give you his. What a bother, really. What kind of lipstick are you wearing? Will it smudge when he kisses you? Does your mascara run?

Yao’s thoughts are interrupted by the click of heels. His eyes are drawn from their spot on the plate to meet yours, and for once his stomach flutters instead of falls.

“Hi.” You smile. You're radiant, he cant help but notice, you exceed his expectations.

Yao swallows hard—still very unnervous, mind you—and stands from his seat. He made his way around the circular table, the cloth bunching up against his legs as he reaches to pull your chair out—because if Yao is anything, its a gentleman.

“Y/n.” He greets, watching as you take your seat. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you, you look handsome.” You smile coyly as he returns to his seat. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner, by the way. This place is nice.”

He nods. Of course its nice, why would he take you somewhere that isn’t nice? Yao Wang has taste. Do… do you not realize that? Do you think lowly of him?

He interrupts himself this time. “Thank you for allowing me to take you out.”

“I haven’t been on a date in a while, so I’m um, a bit nervous.” You giggle, admitting your nerves with an almost bashful tone.

He relaxes. You’re nervous. That makes him feel better.

“Neither have I, it has truly been longer than you can imagine.” He allows himself a soft smile.

“Well, then I guess we’re both in the same boat then, huh?” You tilt your head with a grin.

The tension in his shoulders starts to dissipate as he chuckles, nodding. He finds himself relaxing, even more so when the waiter brings the two of you wine. By the time your entre arrives, Yao’s enjoying himself freely.

You're unlike any girl he’s ever met (he’s said that every time, but this time he tells himself that there’s more behind it), you're intelligent and beautiful. The conversation is flowing like a rapid, dangerous river, and he’s been pulled under by the current, drowing in it. Speaking of drowning, hes come to the conclusion your eyes are dangerous. Every time he meets them he’ll pulled in. Yao isn’t bad with eyecontact by any means. In fact, he’s rather good at winning a steely staring contest of intimidation, really. Yet the way you look at him has every vein is his body pusing and his joints aching—no wait, that part might just be because he’s old, actually.

By dessert, he's obsessed. He’s learned your ambitions, he knows your hobbies, he knows the names of your closest friends and family members. He’s enthralled in every aspect of your being, though his pride doesn't let him show it as openly as some others might. No, he doesn't fawn and melt and sigh like a teenage girl. He chuckles, he grins, he nods. He offers you a ride, he gives you his coat, he opens the car door for you. He drives you to your home, he opens the car door again.

Yao takes your hand in his, savoring the softness of your palms and the warmth of your skin. You’re so very alive, you're making him feel so very alive again, you're making him feel ways he hasn't felt in decades. You’re making him feel that forbidden feeling, that petty, immature thing he says he never feels.

And when you reach your front door, and you smile up at him, his heart sputters like an old engine that’s breaking down. Maybe it is, maybe this all is finally too much, and he’s going to be taken out by a beautiful woman looking at him with admiration. Not a bad way to go… He thinks, but a better way to go is lips pressed up against yours, and you fulfill that desire without him asking. It’s chaste, its quick, it’s sweet like a highschool first kiss is sweet. Yao pulls you in for something slower, something more intimate as you both strand beneath the soft glow of your porch light and listen to the sounds of the city around you. When you pull back, his eyes dart to your lips again. Smudged. He thinks. Yao Wang still does not get nervous. The only exception is you.

✧ navigation.

#opticfile ✧༺࿐#hetalia #hetalia world series #aph hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hws #aph #aph china x reader #aph china #hws china #hws china x reader #china x reader #yao wang #yao wang x reader

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your-fave-adopted-you · 1 year

Note

Hello!

Can I make a request with the guardians who find out that in another world fem!MC didn't have a good father figure? She has suffered psychological trauma and is afraid of men. Therefore fem!MC literally cries every time the guardian shows concern for her or gives her some kind of gift, because her father never did it.

Thank you for considering my request!

— anon🍤

We're really in it for the daddy issues huh, anon? well, same.

Guardian! School staff + fem! Mc with a shitty father back in her Home- world

Characters : Dire Crowley, Divus Crewel, Mozus Trein, Ashton Vargas

TW : Crowley being delusional. Slight mentions of emotional abuse.

Context : (y/n) is always doing her best as both a student and a classmate, helping people all the time and studying must be exhausting! her guardian knows that, and as recognition for her efforts, he sends her a gift. (Not Trein tho, he has enough kids to notice somethings wrong right away)

But wait, why is she frowning like that?

Dire Crowley

Oh! what a good student you are! what a kind classmate, no doubt!

of course all thanks to your amazing role model.

You're such a good kid! you never complain when your beloved dad asks for tiny little favors!

unlike your crusty, musty, almost rodent- excuse for a roommate

Ah, yes! such a great attitude is worthy of a sweet, sweet reward, right?

when you go back to Ramshackle after your classes, you notice a package in front of the door.

it has a note on it.

"Like father, like daughter! thanks for being such a great example for the others, (y/n)! ( please, open this inside)"

it also has a little poorly drawn picture of himself smiling and waving in the back of it.

when you get inside and you open it, it has ten claw-shaped silver rings, similar to the ones your guardian is always wearing.

you put them on one by one, and stare at your hands for a while.

you're frowning.

in fact, you feel your cheeks get warm, your eyes water.

what is this?

Crowley literally spawns out of nowhere, from behind you.

He rushes to see what's wrong.

you don't even question his presence, i mean, it's Crowley.

he's probably been there for a while, just to see your genuine, grateful reaction to his amazing gift!

and now you're crying.

"Are you okay, y/n ?? Does it hurt your skin???" he says noticing you're not wearing gloves underneath. "wait you're not fae either way... what's wrong????"

Your weird-ass dad is worried sick and that only makes you more emotional.

you two sit down on one of the couches.

You see, Crowley is not the best person on earth, let alone guardian.

In fact, in a lot of ways he's very questionable.

you knew that.

And still he was so much better than your actual father back home.

He had never ever insulted you, or shouted at you while he watched you cry.

It's true that sometimes he could be a little off-putting, but you never felt the need to be alert in his presence.

And when he gives you a gift it's not something he doesn't want, hell, it isn't any kind of up-front payment for any favor.

it wasn't an apology.

it was just a gift.

and for some reason, there's something so heartbreaking about that notion, there's so much grief that you're feeling, and have no idea of what to do with it.

so things like this do happen, huh?

you didn't want to think you hated men. it was stupid to hate half of the population.

And yet you always found yourself avoiding your teachers, and many students, except for Epel, for some reason.

Crowley was a good reason as to why believe that men in general were straight up sketchy.

And still, there he was. Silently by your side. waiting for you to let it all out. (confused, but trying)

Maybe he wanted to hug you, he wasn't sure if he should.

You just covered your face with your clawed hands.

Once you were done crying, you looked at them silently.

you weren't alone anymore. And the tears shining as they slid off the silver were proof of that.

By the way, Crowley is finally researching how to reach your world, but just so he can punch your father in the gut.

Divus Crewel

In Crewels eyes, you were the perfect kid. No questions asked.

You were always sincere about anything he asked you regarding his appearance.

"What do you think about this new tie, y/n?" "Do you think the socks and my coat are mismatched today? i have the impression..." "Hey, pup! is it noticeable that I'm wearing scarlet gloves today, instead of the usual crimson?"

Also, you showed to be quite determined and responsible, which was amazing but,

you were always alone, for some reason.

Anyone would think you were just very shy and introverted.

He kinda knew there was more to that but he also thought it would be better to let you open up to him about that subject.

also, you kept asking him to do your projects alone, in potionology, alchemy and so on, you always insisted in not having a partner, stuff like that.

even with this habit of taking all the work to yourself, you had pretty decent grades, so he decided to buy you a gift.

after your last class of the day, your guardian texts you, he has a surprise for you, so come see him!

When you do, he's waiting for you holding a beautifully wrapped box.

you open it and....!

there's a plushie of a puppy inside!

"Do you like it, pup? would you at least let him accompany you?"

you stay silent.

"it reminded me of you... Hey, are you okay?"

Why are you holding the plush like that, sinking your fingers on it? so tight that it looks like you want to suffocate it?

And why isn't Crewel immediately asking for something in return?

why does he look actually concerned, instead of expecting?

And most important, why are you asking yourself that?

"how much did it cost...?" you ask faintly.

"Why would you ask me that? y/n, are you okay?"

"Sorry, i didn't mean to-" and there they are, the tears that had been blurring your vision.

Since you got here, on Twisted Wonderland, no one has really treated you like back at home.

The boys tend to be kind and chaotic, and if they try to tease you they're immediately scolded by the teachers.

Right, the teachers. Your new guardian, Crewel never treated you with disrespect, he didn't scream at you like your father did, he was sassy on occasion, but he never insulted you.

But you weren't as relieved by that as you thought you should be, so

why were you so mad? so enraged?

why was your blood boiling while you stared at the cute puppy you were holding?

Because you had always deserved that, that's why.

Because it's right now, and not sooner, that you're finally experiencing the treatment you had always deserved.

Because you didn't even know what was it like to be loved and appreciated by your father, you only knew that yours was failing you at that.

you finally let yourself cry like a baby, Crewel, unsure of what to do, hugs you from the side and lets you complain about how you hated how your father back at home treated you.

You thank him for the gift and finally express your issue with men in general, you had to grow wary of them as a result of your home life.

next day you suddenly have a partner for the next upcoming project, and it seems like it's a certain someone that is more than glad to help you, and that will be patient no matter what.

Mozus Trein

I tell you, this man knows what's up.

He got really mad at you once, you kept dozing off during his lesson and threw a tiny piece of chalk at you.

obviously it wasn't meant to hurt you or anything

but your reaction was... strange.

just by raising his hand he noticed that you were... a little startled.

you flinched even before the chalk flew towards you, like if you fully expected it.

It was the first and last time he did that, because he didn't quite like that look on your face.

also, you apologized a little too many times about that.

For goodness sake, you hadn't killed his cat or anything.

So yeah, he kept an eye on you after that.

He noticed that you didn't like to hang out with your peers, it was strange

Because personality wise, you were nothing like, let's say, mr.Shroud.

Today, you're not even looking at him in the eye.

Suspicious.

when he asks about homework, you mutter that Grim ate it.

Now, don't misinterpretate this situation ok?

he believes you

But Grim is your roommate, you LIVE WITH HIM

listen. you know him. YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER THAN PUTTING YOUR HOMEWORK IN A PLACE WHERE HE COULD REACH IT.

It's your responsibility yk you're the one living with a literal monster.

As scary as Mr.Trein sounds, the rest of the students are laughing their ass off behind their books

and i don't blame them.

but you're starting to get a little too upset.

So you get up and and go away.

you were crying. literal tears???? but why????

he had only raised his voiced a little.

It wasn't even that big of an issue-

why were you crying???

you're more embarrassed than upset ngl

when the lesson ends you're a bit more calm, and he calls you in.

He knows that you've been crying.

You know he knows.

what a mess.

after apologizing a million times for leaving earlier, he finally asks you directly.

was he really that scary?

Since you've had time to think, you explain what kind of home life you had before and that in retrospective, it may had fucked you up a little bit.

after a very uncomfortable silence, maybe you can't tell-

But his gaze has softened.

"y/n, dear... that is not going to happen again, and I'm personally responsible for your wellbeing so, if i try and show more patience, could you perhaps gift me some of your trust?"

yeah it's definitely easier said than done.

Still, the following days every time you fuck up he will teach you how to do things right, instead of angrily asking you why you didn't get them right in the first place.

it's a little step at a time, but you're already feeling better.

Also, Grim is a great ice breaker, you find out that half of your classmates are straight up himbos.

you're safe here.

Ashton Vargas

this is yet another overly proud dad.

he will refer to himself as your dad no matter what. you're his kid now alright.

Truth is, you two don't have a lot in common, at least interest-wise.

but he appreciates you for always trying your best.

lately he had noticed you yelling obscenities at the tv.

you're not really into sports but you've been watching the sport's channel a lot.

turns out there was certain team from certain academy that you ABSOLUTELY DESPISED

so you watch their competitions just to pray on their downfall. It's really satisfying seeing them lose especially since they are so popular.

Ashton finds this so entertaining omg

It's almost as funny as watching the first time Mr.Ashengrotto tried to get on a broom.

next weekend he surprises you with two tickets to their next game!

you are so excited!!

since the very minute the game starts you insult them every chance you get, every time they mess up.

your guardian is also having the time of his life seeing you so invested.

Dad is so proud of his little hater girl!!!

suddenly the crowd goes silent.

there's so much tension in the air!!!

AAAAAAND BY 3 POINTS THOSE ASSHOLES HAVE LOST!!!! HAHAHAHA!!!!

you jump and cheer, to no one in particular actually.

then he notices you're tearing up a little.

"what's wrong? did you actually want them to win???" he shouts so you can hear him

you look at him as tears run down your face, at first you have a big smile on your face but then...

Your guardian can be a little too much at times.

He can be tiring, sometimes he can be very hard headed.

But he always means well.

Since you got to twisted wonderland, he's the one you come after when you're scared, or tired, or sad.

he's very good at being a dad!

oh you can tell.

because never in your life you would be living a moment like this back at home.

it's a bittersweet feeling, really.

Because your own father could not even treat you like a person with, actual feelings most days.

And then, this teacher that knows so little about your previous life is so open to help you whenever you need, to lift up your spirits and push you to be better...

when you arrived you were intimidated by the rest of the school staff but honestly this man has made everything easier.

is it enough reason to feel so moved?

maybe, who knows...

you will tell him everything he should know about what kind of challenges you went through

but now,

right now,

This stupid team that you hate so much has lost yet another time.

#twst x mc #twst x reader #dire crowley #divus crewel #mozus trein #ashton vargas

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scary-tingz · 2 years

Text

Thomas Hewitt X SCENE! S/O Headcanons

A/N: Yet another self indulgent post, hopefully this appeases you all.

Tommy has been surrounded by drab colors for most of his life. Dingy greens, yellows, browns, only occasionally interrupted by the pungent color of blood red.

But then he sees you, showered in an offensive amount of neon on the day the family sent him out shopping.

He can’t help but stare at you, wide-eyed and unsure of what to think. He is overwhelmed by the amount of color and the brightness of it all, yet he is drawn to you.

You are offensive to the eyes but he can’t resist the urge to follow you around the store, eyeing all the intricate details of your ensemble. By the time you sit still enough for him to read the letters on your beaded bracelets you’re at checkout, and he realizes just how much time he’s meandered away just gawking at you.

Charlie scolds him for it when he finally gets back to the house but Luda can tell there’s something standing distant in the back of his mind, a thought that won’t go away, a memory he is constantly reliving… He goes to his room to ponder as he butchers the meat for tonight’s dinner, nearly chopping one of his digits off in the process.

You really shake up a small town like this. Wherever you go it’s hard to avoid the attention from both bewildered and intrigued residents as they study your choice of dress. They figure you’re some eccentric from the city.

Tommy doesn’t really work up the nerve to approach you until Luda Mae catches him looking your way at the county fair, watching in silence as you try your best to win a Hello Kitty plush from one of the rigged games.

His mother lovingly encourages him to make a move and leaves him where he stands, giving him freedom to do what he wishes. As you walk away from the stall defeated, you hear the sound of a bullseye being hit. You turn around to see some burly hunk approaching you with the stuffed animal you were trying so desperately to get.

He shoves it into your face so that you stop staring at him Like That, gesturing for you to take it. You wrap your arms around the large doll and give him thanks, and since you’re all alone you allow him to join you for the rest of the fair.

He’s wearing his Sunday best for the occasion, a particularly vibrant tie resting against the crevice of his green-clothed chest. He steals glances at you the whole night, staring longingly when you lock eyes with him. It was a miracle he was having this much fun, he usually hated the fair but his family insisted they take him… He should thank them later for that.

But enough backstory, now I’ll get into the more general headcanons.

He loves your kandi a lot, he has an odd fascination with it. He likes to read all the words you put on them, and is honestly shocked that you can work with something so… Small, precise. He tries to make some, but he eventually decides it’s better when you make them.

Thinks your sparkledog is cute. If he were to have one I think he’d want to be a different species, like a sparklepig or something. If you ever make him one he’ll never get over it.

He’ll let you do his hair, but no dying or flat-ironing. Charlie would blow a damn gasket.

Doesn’t mean that he won’t steal strips of your hair though, assuming you have hair that is.

He likes to wear the kandi you make him whenever possible, mostly when he’s off the clock to avoid any damage. If anyone were to break them… Well, let’s just say that he would break them in return.

Secretly loves it when you share your bows with him. For the first time when he sees himself he feels a little… Cute.

Big fan of the animal print things you wear, would honestly love a tie of the same color and pattern.

Don’t get me started on this man and his ties. When you first meet him he has a few zany ones here and there, but the longer you’re around him the more outlandish and garish they become. It’s one of the few ways he can reflect you.

Any nail polish you put on him will not last, sadly. Don’t go too crazy with your designs because they can and will get chipped off by the end of the day.

He likes to pull you around by your belt, just for funsies. He’s most attracted to your studded ones, for some odd reason.

He adopts your love for Hello Kitty. I like to think he’s always liked cute things but never really voiced it much due to Circumstances.

He thinks battery acid is disgusting, took one sip and immediately unsipped it back into the bowl, got a bad case of the jitters.

He goes dumpster diving to find you neat little trinkets that he thinks you’d like. Discarded toys, accessories, bits and bobs, whatever he can get his hands on.

Plus he’ll make you some sweet ass taxidermy!! He’ll try to recreate your sparkle dog to the best of his ability but if it looks like neon color shat onto a very uncanny looking coyote then don’t be surprised.

Charlie doesn’t like you but honestly who cares. If Tommy likes you, then Luda loves you. Monty has mixed feelings but ultimately shrugs it off as a weird hobby and doesn’t give you shit about it.

He is flabbergasted at your music taste. He’s already coping with the fact that you use CD instead of vinyl, but you have a tiny radio too??? What did you just put on, this abstract noise, is it even music?? He listens to it for your sake, but it’s so wildly different from the country schlock he normally hears that he just… Needs some time to process it.

You upload a photo of you and him that you took on your digital camera and put it into blingee to bedazzle it. He watches you the whole time, shocked at the wonders of not-so-modern technology.

He actually kinda likes Invader Zim, thinks it’s funny. Favorite episode is Dark Harvest.

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ffsg0jo · 2 years

Text

oikawa x gn reader

WARNINGS: none <33 -- masterlist

a/n: completely unrelated but i want a baby. i keep getting cute baby tiktoks on my fyp and i just want a baby now even though im wayyy too young and ik they're a lot of responsibility.

oikawa's heart screams. in love, in adoration, in admiration. it screams till the room's sprayed scarlet. a declaration of his love for you is painted on every wall, every sidewalk. with every step oikawa takes, a seal of your love is left behind. oikawa's heart screams for you.

it beats for you as well. you found him when he was at an all time low. the same wounds freshly reopened, before they had time to even heal. he had hope that year as well, rubbing salt into his wounds. hopes of making it to nationals, maybe even winning, his team was strong. but evidently, not strong enough. looking back on it now the optimism was laughable, but his worthless pride refuses to admit it or even acknowledge it. because his optimism is what led him straight into your arms.

he tirelessly sought after you, days on end, hoping to be the cause of one of the beautiful smiles he’s ever seen. only to be playfully ignored and rejected. but, in the end, it was you that came to him. it was you that sought him out, to comfort him, to be the cause of the most precious smile you had ever seen, though you hated to admit it.

not a day went by where you didn't feel cherished and loved by oikawa once you were finally his. yes, you had bad days in which harsh words were exchanged and tears were split, voices raised in frustration, but the pair of you couldn't bring yourself to stay away from each other, like a moth to a flame you were drawn back into each other. with soft apologies and passionate kisses you would reaffirm your affection for one another, knowing you would be okay. you could both make this work and you would. there was never a doubt with oikawa, and never will be.

now you lay in each other’s arms, protected and shielded from the wretched world around you, encased in a cocoon of love. your heart’s synchronised, beating as one. his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, his chest comfortably pressed against yours. and you lay on top of him, head buried in his neck, occasionally pressing small kisses to his throat. oikawa felt as though he could finally breathe, finally relaxed in your arms, his mind free of everything, everything except you.

the concept of forever scares oikawa, the idea of time going on, and on, and on, with no end in sight. the meaning of life is lost once forever comes into play. what would he be living for if he had forever?

but he could spend an eternity in your arms, with you, he thinks to himself. ten times over. you gave his life meaning, taught him how to love, not just others, but himself as well. oikawa lives and breathes for your entire existence. you found cracks in oikawa’s heart and poured all your love and affection into them, making him whole, making him complete.

the concept of forever scares oikawa, but a forever with you, would be a dream come true.

* this is a repost from my old blog with minor edits !! *

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hollandorks · 1 year

Text

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter seventeen

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: I’m alive! I’ve had a bit of a cold so I haven’t felt like working on this fic at all tbh. However, this chapter was pretty much done so I just ran it through a round of edits and here we are! This chapter is self indulgent more so than any other chapter before it, and that’s saying a lot. It’s nice and long, and fluffy as hell. So, Merry Christmas I guess!

Series Masterlist

word count: 8730

She fell asleep, feeling warm and utterly safe for the first time in probably her entire life.

Grace knew she was dreaming because Matt Murdock was holding her, one hand in her hair, the other trailing fire up her abdomen and brushing the bottom of her breast. She felt his breath against the back of her neck. He moaned softly as she unconsciously arched against him. She wanted to be closer, wanted her clothes to disappear so she could feel both of his hands everywhere. He was hard against her ass as she pressed backwards again. He’d lost his shirt, and the bare skin of his chest against her back was full of delicious heat. She huffed out a breath as his hand cupped her breast underneath her shirt. His callouses scraped against the sensitive flesh there.

Matt murmured something, causing his lips to brush against the sensitive skin of her neck. His hips bucked lightly against her. Heat was pooling insistently between her legs.

She opened her eyes and realized that she wasn’t dreaming after all.

Matt seemed to realize it at the same moment, because he cursed and rolled away from her. The sudden coldness without him against her was jarring.

“I’m–Shit. I’m sorry, I wasn’t–” His chest heaved. “Grace, I’m so–”

Grace’s mind was having a hard time waking up. Heat was still coiled low in her belly, her muscles aching for release, her breasts heavy with need. As her brain struggled to catch up, all she could think was that she had been so…happy in Matt’s arms.

“Matt,” she said, his name half a groan. She faced him and propped herself on one elbow.

She remembered the night before with sudden clarity. Him protecting her. Him trusting her. Holding her. Keeping her safe.

“Matt,” she said again. Every muscle in his body was tense. His hands were fisted in the sheets and he stared sightlessly upwards. He was utterly still except for his chest, still heaving like he’d been running. Her thighs clenched together as she briefly got distracted by the sight of his abs, the faded scars across his chest. At the tent in the sheets around his waist. Her mouth went dry.

“Matt, listen to me,” she said softly. She reached out and brushed a tentative finger against his taut forearm. He tensed even more, if it was even possible. “Do you…” She cleared her throat softly. Be brave, she told herself firmly. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about in the shower last night?” Her voice was low and husky with desire.

“I really don’t think–” he started, a note of desperation in his voice.

Grace interrupted him. “You, Matt.”

Matt stopped breathing for a second. “Grace…” he said slowly, the single syllable of her name full of tension.

“Just listen for a second.” She hated the note of pleading that crept into her voice, but if she didn’t speak her mind then, she wasn’t sure she ever would. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see any thoughts his face might give away. The walls had started to come down between them the night before, and she wanted them all gone. She had trusted him with her darkest secret and he had trusted her with his own, so she wanted, more than anything, to get this one final truth out in the air between them.

So she took a deep breath and made the final plunge. “I like you, Matt. Not just–not because of…what just happened. Because you’re a good man. You make me laugh. You care about this city, about your friends. You saw a girl sleeping in her car and gave up your bed, your home, for her.” She took an unsteady breath. “And God–I fucking want you, Matt. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And I think maybe we could–we could see where this goes.”

Matt was completely silent. She finally opened her eyes to make sure he hadn’t snuck out of the bed without her noticing. But he was still in the exact same position, a statue made of living flesh, hands still gripping the sheets like a lifeline, eyes still open and unmoving. She wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“Grace,” Matt said. He sounded strangled. “I–”

Grace’s heart gave a pang. Hot embarrassment crept into her throat, choking her on its way to settle into her cheeks. “God, I’m sorry, I totally–I completely misread this didn’t I? I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes again and flopped onto her back. “Let’s just–forget all of that. This is me…letting you off the hook again.”

She rubbed hands over her tired eyes. Her past two days had been nothing but an emotional–hell, and a physical–rollercoaster.

But at least she had told him the truth. She could let him off the hook for not returning her feelings, and that was fine. Everything was out in the open now, all her big secrets laid at his feet for him to do with them what he would.

There was a rustle. She assumed Matt was escaping from this huge, awkward moment that was only getting worse the longer the silence stretched.

She jolted when his hand wrapped loosely around her wrist. “Grace,” he said in a low voice that she really didn’t want to react to. She shivered anyways. “My past relationships…Daredevil has come between them all.”

Hope blossomed in her, desperate and heavy in her chest like a stone. She opened her eyes and rolled to face him again. “Matt, I don’t care. I’m willing to try.”

Matt sighed. “I–I care about you, Grace. I don’t want to…mess this up.”

Grace’s heart lurched at his words. He cared about her. “Matt, I don’t care. If it gets messed up, it gets messed up. That’s life. People get together and break up all the time. If it gets fucked up, well, I was already planning on trying to find another apartment.”

“You deserve something good, Grace. Not–not someone who runs around at night beating criminals.” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. Ah, she thought with sudden clarity. There it is. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. It’s that he thought he wasn’t good enough for her. And that he thought so only made her like him more.

She wished he could see her face, but remembered how he said he could tell if someone was lying with his heightened sense. She hoped it would be enough. “You are good, Matt. You beat criminals, not women, so you’re already a huge step up from the last guy I dated.” She huffed a laugh.

“But–”

“Matt, I swear to god if you say something else like you’re not good for me, or how I don’t deserve you, or some other self-flagellating bullshit, I’m going to hit you.” She pinched his arm lightly. The hope in her chest was spiraling out of control now, filling her so completely she thought she might vibrate off of the bed with the feeling of it.

“Self-flagellating bullshit?” Matt repeated with raised eyebrows.

“I figured that might be the phrase your Catholic brain might recognize,” Grace said. Matt laughed. “I’m so serious, Matt, I will hit you, and I won’t feel bad about it. And I wouldn’t even feel bad about it if you were actually blind.”

Matt groaned. “I am blind. My eyes are, at least.”

She waved a hand. “Semantics.”

Matt finally leaned up on an elbow, mirroring her pose. “Grace, I just want…to do right by you. I already fucked it up once.”

She softened, studying the crease lines on his face from the pillowcase, the stubble on his jaw, his long eyelashes. “If you’re talking about the three orgasms you gave me the other night, that was the farthest thing from a mistake that has ever happened to me. Even if you hated my guts and kicked me out, I would still be very, very happy about those orgasms.”

Matt’s fingers laced with hers. “I don’t hate your guts,” he said softly. “I could never.”

“Then let’s just…give it a shot. Yeah?” Her heart felt too big for her chest and her stomach was in knots. “If you want.”

Matt didn’t say anything. Instead, he lurched forward and kissed her, rolling until she was flat on her back and he was half-laying on top of her. His hands cupped her jaw as he kissed her slowly, tenderly.

She pulled away slightly. “Is that a yes?”

Matt touched his forehead to hers. “Mm. I have to think about it.” But he was smirking, one of his hands tracing circles at her waist. The hope within her exploded and she was suddenly light as air, floating on the feeling.

“You dick,” she said around a laugh. She arched herself into him, seeking friction to ease the tension that was already curling in her gut.

Matt’s mouth was on hers again and this time it wasn’t sweet. It was ravenous. Her hands fumbled for the edge of his sweatpants. He groaned into her mouth as her fingers wrapped around his length and squeezed gently.

His teeth caught her lower lip with a little growl as she let him go. Her nails skated across the bare skin of his back.

“I want to pay you back for each time you made me come,” she murmured into his ear. Her body had a mind of its own, arching into him as she sought any kind of friction she could get. “But right now I want you to fuck me.”

Matt let out a breathy, needy noise that made her toes curl.

Grace thought that every moment between them had led to this.

“I–” Matt paused, head tilted to the side. She wondered if he was listening to her heart trying to race its way out of her chest. She marveled that he could do that, that he could read her so easily. She hoped her body was telling him very, very clearly how much she wanted him. Instead, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He very carefully extricated himself from her and sat at the edge of the bed. She sat up and frowned. “What?” she asked.

“That cop just got ordered to go ahead and bring us into the station. Guess we slept in too long.” Matt groaned and dug his fingers into his hair.

Sure enough, there was a knock at the door.

Grace cursed colorfully. “I’m going to sue the NYPD for giving me blue balls,” she said venomously.

Matt laughed loudly, head tilting back with the surprise of it. “You and me both.”

She cast one last lingering look at him before padding softly to the door, swiping the blanket from the couch to cover up her silk pajamas and lack of a bra.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” the officer said a bit sheepishly when she opened the door. He was young, probably barely out of training, a patching beard growing on his cheeks.

“Not at all,” she said sweetly. It wasn’t the cop’s fault that she and Matt had the absolute worst timing. “What can I do for you, officer?”

“I think Detective Mahoney was expecting you at the station a little…sooner this morning,” he said. “As soon as you’re ready I’m supposed to drive you down there.”

Grace briefly imagined telling the cop to give them a half an hour so Matt could fuck her senseless before they had to go. Her heart gave a leap at the thought. She wondered what Matt would make of that.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, we stayed up late last night, obviously. Give us ten minutes.”

The officer flashed her a boyish smile before she closed the door. She leaned against it for a moment then blew out her breath.

When she went back into the bedroom, Matt already had suit pants on and was taking a white button up off of a hanger.

“I should have told him half an hour,” she grumbled as she went to the closet for her own clothes.

Matt’s arm came up and caged her against the wall as he leaned down to her. “I don’t think that poor officer would want to hear the sounds I’m going to get you to make, anyways,” he said in a deep voice that nearly made her come right then and there. He smirked as he inevitably heard what his words did to her breathing and heart rate.

“I will go out there right now and tell him to wait for us outside,” she threatened, but her voice cracked.

Matt kissed her lightly on the lips and stepped back so suddenly she would have fallen if the wall wasn’t already supporting her.

“We’ll finish this later,” he promised with another smirk. She chucked a hanger at him. He caught it without turning, laughing. She had to admit that his easy confidence was hot.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, but there was no force behind the comment. She leaned her head back against the wall for a moment to try and collect herself. Then, with a curse, she got ready to go down to the station to make her statement.

In the back of the young officer’s squad car–Officer Walters, he had politely informed her when she’d asked–Grace shifted uneasily. They weren’t under arrest, but something about being in the back of a cop car made her anxious. She wondered if her involvement with what had happened to Harry Spencer, however minor, would lead to her reliving the experience again sooner rather than later. Except, she thought, that time she would be in handcuffs.

Around the third time she fidgeted in her seat, Matt’s hand came to rest on her knee. He squeezed it gently.

“Should I tell them about who sent those guys?” she asked him in a quiet murmur she hoped Walters didn’t overhear.

“What’d you say?” Walters asked anyway. He seemed oddly cheerful for someone who’d come to guard their door at five o’clock that morning.

“Um–I forgot to grab something to eat on the way out, is all.” She glanced at Matt.

“I think so,” he said in a much more quiet whisper as Walters promised he’d find something for them at the station.

Grace sighed. She tried to imagine what would be better or worse–telling the cops about Dean, who had the power to get out of any kind of legal ramifications, or not telling them and potentially being caught in a lie later when things inevitably blew up in her face.

So, twenty minutes later when Detective Mahoney asked her if she had any idea why four armed men came after her, she told the truth.

When she was done, Mahoney sat back and said, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” she said nervously. Her hands twisted around the coffee cup Walters had brought her. She’d already eaten the donut. He’d winked at her before he’d left. He was a sweet guy, and she was glad she and Matt hadn’t gotten him in trouble by delaying their trip to the station like they’d wanted.

Mahoney leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I–Armed men, though? That seems a little far-fetched.”

“Do you know who he is?” she asked. Mahoney hesitated, then nodded. “Then it’s not that far-fetched, detective. I…think I might like to place a restraining order against him.” As she said the words, she realized they were true. It wouldn’t do much to actually stop him, but it would slow him down and at the very least back her up if something else happened.

Mahoney pursed his lips. “I think I should go get Mr. Murdock for this.”

He stood and stepped out of the room. Grace took a shaking sip from her coffee.

The door opened after just a minute and Matt stepped through.

“Chair on your left,” Mahoney said as he took a seat across from them. Matt’s hand fumbled for the back of the chair so convincingly that Grace almost laughed.

“I told him I want a restraining order,” she said to Matt, though she assumed he’d already heard. She still had so many questions for him, for what he could do.

Matt sat back in the chair, looking perfectly at ease. “I think that’s a good idea. We’ll help her with the paperwork of course, detective.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mahoney asked her. He studied her face, missing nothing, including the darkening bruise across the side of her face and her split knuckles.

“Very,” she said firmly.

“I’ll be right back, then.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Matt turned to her.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Grace rolled her eyes. “I just said I was.”

“I know, but–”

“If anything, it’s something to fall back on if he tries to pull anything else.”

Matt reached over and squeezed her knee. “I agree. We can see about suing, too, for last night’s incident. I overheard a couple officers talking about how those guys claimed to be from a security company and they thought I’d kidnapped you. Which was, naturally, part of my questioning.”

“Seriously?” Grace said with a flare of anger. That prick, she thought. “No wonder Mahoney asked me so many questions about our living arrangement.”

Matt smirked. “Yeah, so I heard.”

Matt’s hand moved from her knee right before the door opened again. His tinted glasses flashed red in the lights as he titled his head back at the sound.

“Here’s some information on filing a restraining order, although I’m sure your…coworkers know how to do that. And some information on…domestic abuse.” Mahoney looked deeply uncomfortable as he handed her a neat little folder.

“Thanks, detective,” she said softly.

“You two are free to go. We’ll reach out if we need anything else.”

“Thanks, Brett,” Matt said. Mahoney nodded at her and left them alone.

“Could you tell how uncomfortable he was?” she asked wryly.

Matt laughed and stood. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious. Let’s get out of here.”

“Please say we can stop for coffee.”

“My thoughts exactly. My treat.” Matt held out his hand to help her up.

“Why, Mr. Murdock, are you flirting with me?” she whispered conspiratorially as they entered the station’s hallway and headed for the front door. Despite the fear from the night before and the shadow of Dean hovering over her, Grace was…happy. Matt liked her back. Somehow, in all of this, something good had happened.

“Am I so transparent?” Matt murmured back. He elbowed her slightly and she couldn’t help but smile.

Grace sighed again as they stepped outside. It was unseasonably warm, summer making a last ditch effort to come back even though it was fully into autumn. “Do you think Foggy and Karen would care if we ditched today?”

“And why would we do that?” Matt asked innocently as he turned a corner. Supposedly she was leading him, but his steps were sure as he led her.

Feeling bold, Grace said, “Because I’m pretty sure I promised to pay you back for making me come three times.”

Matt almost tripped. His mouth opened and closed several times. She couldn’t help but laugh, even as her limbs warmed at the thought.

“Wow, Matt Murdock, speechless?” she teased. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re cruel,” he said with a choked sounding laugh. “Come on, we’re almost there and it sounds like the line is pretty short.”

“It’s weird how you know that,” she said. Her face was flushed and she knew he could hear her heart fluttering. “And I really, really wasn’t kidding.”

Matt groaned and tightened his grip on her. “I know. Trust me, I know. But if I leave Foggy hanging on this case he might kill me.”

“Rain check, then,” she said as they stepped into a delicious smelling coffee shop.

“Rain check,” Matt said, and the promise was the best thing she’d heard.

A few minutes later, coffees and bagels in hand, they talked and ate as they headed to the office. Grace studied Matt as she finished off her bagel, which was much more satisfying than the donut at the station, no matter how nice the gesture had been.

She smiled warmly at him even though he couldn’t see it. She had never expected, not in a million years, for things to go so…well for her. Even the incident from the night before and the light throb of pain in her face couldn’t take away the happiness she was feeling at that moment.

“What?” Matt asked, head tilted in that way she was just realizing meant he was tuning in to something beyond a normal person’s ability to hear.

“What?” she parroted back, bumping into him as they walked to try and trip him up. He deftly dodged her and kept walking. “Showoff,” she muttered.

“I can tell you’re staring at me, but I can’t tell why,” Matt said. He bumped into her this time. She was proud of herself for not tripping.

“I’m not staring at you,” she said. “I’m smiling at you.”

Matt stopped walking, nearly wrenching her arm that was looped with his. “Smiling at me?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah, people do that sometimes,” she said teasingly. “Not everyone is mad at you all the time.”

Even though he had his tinted glasses on, she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I never said everyone is mad at me all the time.”

“Last night when you told me your secret the first thing you did was accuse me of being mad at you or upset with you.” She pinched his bicep lightly. “That and the Catholic guilt thing makes me think you assume everyone’s mad at you all the time.”

Matt started walking again, pulling her gently along. “Are you ever going to stop bringing up Catholic guilt? Maybe it’s just regular guilt. I do keep a pretty big secret, after all.”

“But it isn’t a secret anymore. And it makes sense why you keep it a secret. Need I remind you that my secret had your apartment broken into last night?”

Matt sighed. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” she asked with genuine curiosity. “Because I don’t think so.”

“It’s just–every time anyone has found out my secret, it’s come between us. Foggy and I stopped working together, Karen and I didn’t make it past two dates. It took a lot for us to come back from that.” Matt’s hand tensed around his cane as he swept it idly back and forth.

“But you did come back from it. You guys are working together, closer than ever. You’re going to be Foggy’s best man, you guys helped support Karen through law school. Plus, you and I weren’t best friends or romantically involved when you told me your secret. Which, I remind you, you told me more out of necessity than anything.”

“Maybe you should be a lawyer,” Matt grumbled, but then he sighed again. “Okay, so Foggy and Karen and I are okay now. But I’m still–I still am who I am. I haven’t stopped and I don’t know if I want to. I don’t want–”

“Matt,” Grace said with a lot more patience than she actually felt. “I don’t care. It would be like–if you were a boxer, or a firefighter, or something else that could get you hurt or killed.”

“It’s illegal,” Matt said dryly.

“So are a lot of things,” Grace said. She pinched his arm a little harder this time, ignoring his protests as she did so. “Matt, I’m telling you. I’m not angry. Do I want you to get hurt? No. But you’re–you’re doing something good. Like I already said, you beat criminals and not helpless women, so I think you get a pass just for that. There are plenty of supposedly good men who are monsters underneath.”

“Maybe I am a monster,” Matt said. His voice was soft, almost thoughtful.

Grace pulled him to a stop. “Matt, seriously. Remember what I said this morning about cutting the self-flagellating bullshit? So you beat the shit out of people. Again, so do boxers. That’s what your dad did for a living, right? Did you think he was a monster?”

Matt made a frustrated noise and went to start walking again. She yanked on his arm with a grunt until he stopped again. Jesus, he was strong, she thought.

“Did you?” she said again.

“No, I didn’t think my dad was a monster, but–”

“If you say that it’s different I swear to god I will punch you. Just listen to me.”

“You’re more violent than I thought,” Matt said. But he mimed zipping his lips after a moment.

Grace crossed her arms and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “If anything, you beating the shit out of people makes a lot more sense than when your dad did it. Because he did it for money. You do it for the good of the city. Do you hear what I’m saying at all, or is your mind just bouncing the words around so you can start that self-flagellation again once I stop talking? I swear, I have never met someone so–”

She was abruptly cut off with a muffled “mmph” as Matt kissed her.

“What was that for?” she asked a little breathlessly after he pulled away.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Grace,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

“Right back at you, Murdock,” she said, but she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

“I just–no one has ever found out what I do and–” He raked a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. “You’ve known me for five minutes and you’re convinced I’m a good man, doing good things, despite what you know about me. About what I do.”

“You are a good man, Matt,” she said softly. She pulled him closer so their foreheads touched. Matt inhaled deeply as if breathing her in. “You can hear when I’m lying, right?” she asked after a moment. Matt nodded his head against hers. “In any of this arguing we’ve just been doing, have I lied?”

Matt grunted. “No,” he finally, grudgingly, said.

“You’re a good man, and I really hope you see that. I’ll never stop saying it until either I get hit by a bus or you like, actually do something bad. Which I doubt you’ll do, by the way.” She kissed him lightly, thrilling in the fact that she could do that now.

“Alright, alright.” Matt hooked his arm through hers again and started walking. Something seemed lighter about him, and a small ball of warmth unfurled in her chest as she realized it. “Let’s get to work. Foggy’s already freaking out.”

“What’d you tell him?” Grace asked curiously.

“I texted him last night to say we’d be late, that something happened that required a visit to the police station. I told him that everything was fine, but I’m sure he’s still worrying.”

Grace frowned. Matt texting required him talking to his phone, which she was certain would have woken her up. “You texted him last night? When?”

“While you were sleeping,” Matt said. “You were pretty passed out.”

Something else shifted in her chest. He’d been awake, holding her, watching over her, even as she’d slept.

“You’re staring again,” Matt said.

“Smiling, Matt,” she said. “Smiling at you.”

Matt said nothing but his lips brushed against her temple.

“Now,” she said with a little clap as their building came into view. “We should fuck with Foggy and Karen.”

Matt laughed. “How so?”

“Well, they don’t know I know about you, for one thing. Or about uh…this morning. And I don’t mean the police station.”

Matt’s arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer. “Right,” he said slowly.

“So I’ll tell them the story I told the cops about Daredevil,” Grace said with a smile. She wiggled her eyebrows even though he couldn’t see it. “The rest–” She waved her hand. “That’ll come to me.”

Matt tilted his head back and laughed. She resisted the urge to kiss him again.

“Which means you have to stop kissing me on the street, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “And holding me like this.”

Matt squeezed her hip but relented and let her go. They put an appropriate amount of space between them, which was already harder than it should have been. She wanted to stay curled up against him and his warmth. She really, really wished they could have stayed in bed all day.

The moment they stepped into the office, Karen and Foggy descended on them.

“What happened?” Foggy asked. Or rather, demanded. He put his hands on his hips in a pose that reminded her so much of Matt that Grace almost smiled.

“Foggy told me you guys had to go make a statement with the police,” Karen added. She crossed her arms too, expression a mix between stern and concerned. “What the hell is going on?”

Grace blew out a hard breath as she shed her jacket and purse at her desk. “You guys will never believe what happened,” she said as Matt went straight to his office.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out!” Foggy said impatiently. “Get back here, Murdock, you’re not off the hook.”

Matt laughed but did as Foggy said.

“Last night some men broke in,” Grace said with a dramatic pause. As expected, Karen gasped and Foggy cursed. “Apparently, my crazy rich ex wants to kidnap me or something. But that’s a different story. You’ll seriously never guess what happened, though, why we’re…you know, here and not kidnapped.”

Foggy’s mouth was hanging open. He quickly snapped it closed. “What?” he asked a bit breathlessly. He and Karen were both wide-eyed. They exchanged a quick look.

Grace had to school her expression so she didn’t laugh. “Daredevil came and saved us. Me and Matt. He came through the roof door, which was unlocked I guess, and beat the shit out of these guys. Well, I mean they got us both good first, but he kicked their asses so quickly and thoroughly–it was crazy.”

She curled her hands into fists so her nails bit into her palms so she wouldn’t laugh.

Karen and Foggy both stared at her, openmouthed, for a long minute. Behind them, Grace could see Matt turn away, his shoulders shaking silently. She quickly looked back at the two people in front of her before Matt made her lose it.

“He–saved you and Matt?” Karen finally said.

“Daredevil?” Foggy repeated. “Guy in the red suit? With the horns?”

“Yes!” Grace said eagerly. “God, you guys probably don’t believe me. Him saving me twice? It’s pretty unbelievable. Tell them, Matt!”

“Yeah, it’s…pretty unbelievable,” Foggy said faintly. He and Karen exchanged another, much longer look.

“I…can’t really believe it either,” Karen said.

“Oh hey,” Grace said, grabbing the paper bag she’d put on her desk. “Matt, you forgot your bagel.”

Without warning, she threw the bag at him as hard as she could. Matt snatched it out of the air with an almost practiced ease. Karen gave a wordless cry and held her hand out a beat too late, as if to catch it for him.

“Thanks,” Matt said, opening the bag and pulling out said bagel with such a casual air that Grace really almost gave in to the urge to laugh. Her stomach muscles were twitching with the effort to hold it in.

“What in the goddamn is going on?!” Foggy half-shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

Finally, Grace couldn’t hold it back anymore. She doubled over, laughing so hard tears leaked from her eyes. She heard Matt start to chuckle as well. Every time she tried to straighten she only laughed more. She could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed so hard in her entire life.

Foggy was still freaking out, looking very unamused. “I mean it, what is happening? Matt, what–”

“I’m sorry,” Grace choked out. She wiped at her eyes. “I couldn’t help it. Don’t blame Matt, it was my idea.”

“What was your idea?” Karen said. Now she was the one with her hands on her hips. Her lips were trying not to twitch upwards into a smile, though.

“To fuck with you guys.” Grace shrugged, and then giggled again. She glanced at Matt and lightly tapped the desk twice. He smiled in her direction, still laughing softly. “All that stuff happened, I swear. But the part about Daredevil didn’t. Obviously.”

“Uh.” Foggy looked vaguely ill. “Obviously?”

“Come on. The bagel wasn’t enough?” She picked up a pencil and threw it at Matt. He caught it. She threw a pen at him right after the pencil, and he caught that too. “Matt’s the one who beat the shit out of the guys who broke in, and then he told me his secret so we could lie to the cops convincingly. So now there’s a nice, official police report backed by two witnesses that Matt Murdock and Daredevil can in fact exist in the same room together. Separately.” Grace shrugged.

Karen recovered first. “That is…a lot to take in,” she said. “You really told her?” she asked Matt. Her blue eyes flickered between them, missing nothing. Grace wondered if Karen had figured out Matt’s secret herself. It seemed like something she was capable of.

“Yeah,” Matt said, suddenly sober. “I trust her, don’t worry. The police report thing was her idea, actually, to protect me.”

Foggy’s head whipped from her to Matt and back again. “Are you–That’s–What–”

Karen walked to the kitchenette to fix a cup of coffee, quietly shaking her head. She was smiling openly now.

“Foggy, it’s alright,” Matt said, probably sensing the panic brewing in his friend. “She actually took it a hell of a lot better than you did.”

Grace saw the expression on Foggy’s face and hurried to say, “Understandably, of course, since I wasn’t best friends with you for years first.” Foggy’s shoulders relaxed a bit at her words. “Plus, I was keeping my crazy, powerful ex a secret and he had Matt’s apartment broken into, so…I don’t really have any room to talk.”

Foggy pressed his hands to his face. Karen returned, cupping her mug thoughtfully.

“Who’s your ex?” Karen asked.

“Dean Bennett.”

Karen swore impressively. “Wow. That’s–wow.”

“Yeah. The whole reason I came to Hell’s Kitchen and lived in my car and begged you guys for a job. Etcetera.” Grace shrugged, though the memories still stung.

“Okay, first, you’re a terrible person and I hate you,” Foggy said, pointing a threatening finger at Grace. “Second, I’m so glad you finally know! God, that makes things so much easier.” He pumped a fist in the air and held out a hand for a high five. Grace laughed and high fived him. “Third, what are you going to do about this crazy ex who apparently can send armed gunmen after you like it’s no big deal?”

“She wants to file a restraining order,” Matt said. When Grace looked at him, his shoulders and jaw were tense. “I also recommend suing this supposed ‘security company’ he sent after you, if we can find out who they are.”

“I have to tell you guys, though, I’m not sure I can afford you.” Grace laughed but there was a nervous edge to it. “Unfortunately, my job doesn’t pay that well.”

“Nonsense,” Foggy said. “Not about the pay part–sorry about that. I’m pretty sure free legal help is one of our employee benefits.”

“If it isn’t, it is now,” Matt said. He was all business as he added, “First we need to figure out what security company those guys were with, if it exists at all. Or anything that ties them to this guy.”

Karen hurried to her desk and snatched up her cell phone. “I’ll call in a favor with Ellison,” she said as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “He has a lot of contacts at the precinct.”

“I’ll call Brett, too,” Foggy said.

“Ah, I wouldn’t, Fog. He already seems a little…suspicious. I don’t know. Something was off with him,” Matt said with a small frown.

“Brett? Suspicious? Of us? No way.” Sarcasm dripped from Foggy’s voice. “What’s new?”

“Let’s just…see what Ellison comes up with first,” Matt said. Foggy flapped a hand dismissively.

“Who’s Ellison?” Grace chimed in.

“Editor at The Bulletin,” Matt said.

“He’s a friend. I used to work for him and he’s helped me a lot with the big shit in Hell’s Kitchen.” Karen shrugged. Her phone chimed. “That was fast.” She continued typing quickly.

“Where does your ex live?” Foggy asked. “The paperwork for restraining orders changes depending on where.”

While Foggy went to search the paperwork, Karen and Matt started questioning Grace.

“Is there anything you documented from your time with him?” Karen asked softly. Her hand came to rest on Grace’s shoulder. “Pictures? Texts? Police reports? Anything at all could be helpful for this case.”

Grace snorted bitterly. “No, definitely no police reports.” She forced herself to think back several months. It was hard to make her mind go back to that dark place, where she’d been alone and afraid every single day for years. “I…When I left, I texted him that I wanted to break up, while he was at work. When I didn’t answer his calls, he sent me a lot of really angry texts. I screenshotted them all.”

“That’s smart, Grace, really smart,” Matt said in a gentle voice. “Send those to Karen. Is there anything else?”

Grace rubbed at her eyes. “I got rid of my phone so he couldn’t track me, canceled any accounts that I could. But all of my pictures were uploaded to the cloud. There…are probably some pictures of bruises on there. I’m not sure if that’ll hold up in court, though. I can’t prove that they were from him.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Karen said. Grace didn’t miss the ticking of a muscle in Matt’s jaw or the way that his hands flexed several times before he stilled. “Look through them and send me anything you think is relevant.”

“Especially if they’re spread out,” Matt added. His right hand flexed again, like maybe he wanted to hit something. “If we can build a timeline, it helps show it was–” He stopped abruptly.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Grace said. “You can say it. It was abuse.”

Karen wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said. “But I’m glad it brought you to us. We’ll help you in any way that we can.”

Grace blinked rapidly to clear the tears forming in her eyes. “Anyone know a good hit man?” She joked to cover up the fact that she was about to cry.

Karen laughed. “I actually–”

“Karen, don’t finish that sentence,” Matt said tiredly.

“Yeah, especially if it rhymes with Mank Trastle!” Foggy shouted from his office.

“Mank…Trastle?” Grace repeated. “What is he talking about?”

“Um. Nothing,” Karen said, too quickly. “Story for another time.”

Grace raised her eyebrows but decided to let it drop. She wouldn’t forget that phrase, though, and she definitely planned to ask about it.

They broke apart to finally start on their tasks, Grace insisting that they all needed to work on their other cases, at least while she looked through her photos and compiled anything helpful to send to Karen.

She booted up the computer and opened up a private browser. She knew that it wouldn’t keep Dean from finding her–he already knew where she was living–but it made her feel better all the same. She had no idea if he knew her passwords or could pay someone to hack her information. At this point, after he’d sent literal armed men after her, she wouldn’t put anything past him.

Grace sat for at least ten minutes staring blankly at the screen. She didn’t want to dig back into that life. She’d left it behind for a reason. She had something good going here, and she wanted, more than anything, to forget anything that had come before. She had a job she really was starting to love, she had friends, and she had something new with a man that made her feel safe. Her old life was a brief shadow in this new world of light.

But that life had caught up with her, whether she liked it or not.

With a small growl, Grace logged into her account with angry keystrokes. She needed to remember why she’d left, and how. She’d been angry when she’d left. She’d been fed up. It was the same reason she’d taken self defense classes for two years straight. She didn’t want to be helpless.

“Everything okay?” Matt’s voice made her jump.

“Yeah, just–logging in.”

Matt’s eyebrows rose. He wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore. “That so? With growling and angry typing?”

Grace huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I was just–feeling sorry for myself. Then I remembered that he’s an asshole and I want to punch him in the face.”

“Mm. Yeah. I know the feeling.” There was that little tick in his jaw again. She’d noticed it before but now she was beginning to learn that it was a sign of his anger, despite how calm he appeared. “I was just…picking up those papers you had printed for me.”

Grace glanced around. Karen was on the phone, her door closed, and Foggy looked so deep into paperwork she was almost certain he couldn’t hear anything.

“Are you sure you didn’t come over to flirt with me?” she teased softly.

Matt gave her a warm smile. “Well, not quite. I was coming to ask you to lunch.”

“First coffee, now lunch? You work fast, Murdock.” She wondered if he’d be able to tell if she winked. “Can you tell if I wink at you?”

“Why, is that what you’re doing?” He was still smiling. The shadows of her former life seemed to melt away in the radiance and warmth of that smile. Matt placed both hands on her desk and leaned forward. Her body reacted almost instantly, even before he said his next words. “I won’t work fast later, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone betraying exactly what he meant by later.

A small gasp of air slipped from her lips. Her heart thundered in her chest and heat coiled low in her belly.

“Let me ask my boss if I can take a half day,” she said. The words were almost pleading.

Matt tapped her desk twice. “Sorry, too much work to do.”

He put his hands in his pockets and strolled casually back to his desk.

“Asshole,” she muttered, knowing full well he could hear her. “And you forgot your papers.”

She heard his soft laugh from his office.

She had a sudden idea. In a whisper under her breath, she said, “Are we keeping this a secret from them?” She watched Matt cock his head from his seat at his desk. Then he shrugged. “Do you want to?” He shook his head. “What do you think would be funnier–kissing in front of them like it’s no big deal, or making some sort of sexual comment?” Matt choked and coughed. “Because it was kind of fun fucking with them earlier.”

“Talking to yourself?” Foggy said cheerfully from his office doorway. “Looks like you are becoming one of us.”

Grace tried to keep her face neutral. “Yeah, apparently crazy is catching.”

Foggy laughed. “Yes it is. I was one hundred percent sane until my college roommate walked in and ruined that for me.”

“Hey,” said Matt. He leaned on the door jamb. His sleeves were rolled up now. “I’m pretty sure I was sane until I met you, Fog.”

“Maybe we were both sane until Karen corrupted us,” Foggy said.

“No, you two definitely fucked me up,” Karen said. “Hey, do you have those notes? On the building codes?”

“Right.” Foggy sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Remind me why we took such a big case again?”

“To keep the lights on,” Karen said as Foggy passed her a stack of papers.

Grace grabbed the stack Matt had supposedly been after. They had a handy printer that transcribed everything to braille for him.

“Speaking of paperwork,” she said as she held out the papers. Matt tilted his head. She eyed the long column of his throat, imagining pressing kisses to the spot where his pulse beat beneath his skin.

Matt took the papers, tossed them unceremoniously on his desk, and then grabbed her wrist and yanked her closer. She stumbled and fell flush against him. Her mind went utterly blank in surprise.

Matt kissed her. He caged her in with his arms, the doorjamb digging against her spine. He tasted like coffee and something wholly Matt. She fisted her hands in his shirt to hold him close. But as quickly as it had happened, the kiss was over. Matt was grinning cockily at her in a way that had her stomach doing flips.

She blinked, completely dazed.

“Thanks for transcribing that stuff for me,” he said, voice completely normal like he hadn’t just made out with her in front of–Oh. Oh.

Grace smiled at him as she realized what he was doing. “No problem,” she said, proud of how normal her voice sounded despite the chaos inside her body and mind.

She went back to her desk like nothing happened.

Karen and Foggy looked twice as shocked as they had at her Daredevil story.

Finally, Karen smacked Foggy in the chest with the papers he’d handed her. “I told you.” She grinned at Grace, who couldn’t help but grin back. She felt a bit…giddy. Her mind raced with all kinds of delightful scenarios of her and Matt alone in the office, his tie on the floor, his desk underneath them. She tried unsuccessfully to shove them from her mind.

“I–Is–You guys are going to give me a heart attack!” Foggy threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t think I can take anything else! Please, stop. Seriously. Stop. I’m on the edge of a nervous breakdown here!”

Matt laughed, long and loud. “This is payback for all the shit you’ve pulled on me, Foggy. Though it was all Grace’s idea.”

Foggy gaped at her. “You–You evil woman. I’m sending you a bill for my cardiologist. Or therapist.”

“Sure, but remember I don’t get paid much.” She winked at Foggy.

He stared at her and Matt in turn for several moments. A slow smile spread across his face. “God, I knew it. I knew it. Especially after–Nevermind, doesn’t matter. You two are dating now? Is this really happening?”

“Dating?” Grace said, unable to help herself. “I thought that’s how Matt thanked everyone.”

“Well he doesn’t kiss me like that,” Foggy said, and they all laughed. “Needs more tongue, Murdock!” he called as he went back to his office. He muttered something else that made Matt laugh again.

Grace’s phone chimed with a text from Karen. What the hell happened last night after those guys broke in??

She glanced up at the blonde who raised her eyebrows and quickly typed something. This is the best way to keep Matt from eavesdropping, she said. Foggy and I talk about him all the time via text, because he can’t see or hear it.

Grace pressed her lips together against a smile. Nothing happened last night. But this morning I definitely debated suing the NYPD for giving me blue balls.

Karen snorted loudly in her office. Her response was instant. And you guys are…dating? FWB? What? I mean I know it’s not my business but…

Grace glanced up at Matt, who looked like the very picture of innocence as his fingers flew across his papers as he read. I think dating. I don’t know. I’ve been calling him out on what I’ve been calling his self-flagellating bullshit.

Karen coughed to cover up another laugh. That’s a great way to put it. He does it a lot.

Too much, Grace sent back. So I’ve been distracting him.

Karen’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. I’m not going to ask.

Grace glanced at the clock before she typed another message. When do you get your results back for the bar exam?

Two weeks. I don’t think it’s a secret though.

I don’t know about you but I don’t think Matt needs to hear every conversation we ever have. Grace tapped her fingers on her desk, realizing all of her pictures were still pulled up. She was probably procrastinating looking through them by talking to Karen.

Why do you think we went to lunch a few blocks away after our night at Josie’s? I know how to keep secrets. When Grace glanced up, Karen flashed her a smile.

Grace set her phone down and sighed with another look at the computer. She scrolled through them, starting with three years ago. That had been the first time he’d hit her. She glanced idly at the photos, shutting her brain off, not letting herself get sucked into any of the memories that accompanied the many photos. Every time she found a hint of a bruise, she attached it to an email draft to Karen. She numbered the pictures, added dates, and a short description of the incident and where you could see a hint of a bruise–if not a full bruise–in the picture.

She got to last year’s photos and realized the office was quiet. She looked around with bleary eyes. The other three were gathered around takeout containers. She hadn’t realized it was lunch time, or that anyone had gone to get food.

Matt walked over to her and held out a wrapped sandwich. “Sorry, our plans kind of got derailed,” he said, leaning a hip against her desk. “Rain check?”

“I’m really beginning to hate that phrase,” Grace said darkly as she unwrapped her sandwich. “How’d you–right. Superpowers.”

Matt crossed his arms. “I don’t need superpowers to know what your order is, Grace. I’m just observant.”

There was that warmth again, deep in her chest. “Thanks, Matt,” she said softly.

“Get your ass in here, Murdock! Some of us are trying to get some work done!” Foggy shouted from his office. Matt tapped her desk twice and rolled his eyes, but took his food into Foggy’s office.

Grace ate while staring at her desk, letting the sounds of the others working and joking wash over her.

When she was done, she dove back into the photos.

The last year had been the worst. She’d had a broken wrist from where he’d pinned her against the wall so hard it had snapped a bone. She’d had bruises on her collarbone, too, but only the cast was visible in the photos.

That had been the first time she’d been truly afraid for her life.

He hadn’t struck again until months later, when her wrist was healed and her cast was off. That was when her ribs had been bruised. Maybe fractured, but she’d never gone to get it checked out. That was the first time she’d taken a picture of the damage. She’d let it upload to the cloud, then deleted all traces of it from her phone.

That was also when he’d started checking her phone regularly. She didn’t know if it’s because he was getting meaner and more paranoid, or if he’d somehow found out about her desire to start keeping track of all of the ways he’d hurt her. She added a note about that in her email, too, that she’d had to take the passcode off of her phone and let him approve all social media posts.

It took her much, much longer to get through those last pictures. The woman in them had a deadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A desperation. She’d lost weight then, too, which he’d assumed was for his benefit.

Grace finally finished and sent the email. She rested her head in her hands. They shook with anger.

He was a bastard. The worst kind of bastard. She should have known his business wasn’t all aboveboard, too, just based on how he treated her.

She’d been stupid, naive, prone to giving in to his apologies.

She wasn’t that girl anymore.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and finally started working on the paperwork piling up on her desk.

Next Chapter

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