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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 29 days

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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸𝚅. 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, flirting, fluff, angst, pining, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, girldad!Joel, tipsy!Joel, heteronormative bullshit, inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, Sad During the Holidays™, financial/mental/emotional/physical abuse, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 9k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: The more settled you get into your new job, the more your home life frays at the edges. When Joel asks you for a favor, you both struggle to keep from crossing the line between professional and personal.

“Blue Plate Diner?” you read aloud. The flickering bulbs of the neon blue sign added to the Mom & Pop charm of the breakfast place Joel had picked.

“It’s good, I swear. Just give it a chance and you’ll love it,” he promises.

You’re craving the proximity of last night on the bench together passing out candy, so you choose a booth when the waitress asks if you have a preference. Joel picks up a menu and hands it to you, and you take the opportunity to scoot closer to him when he grabs one of his own.

“So what do you normally like for breakfast?” he asks.

“Um, I dunno. Just whatever is around, I guess.”

“What sorta answer is that? You don’t have a favorite breakfast food?”

“I dunno. Do you?” You glance over to see what he’s considering on the menu, only to find he’s ignoring it completely and has his eyes set on you.

“Yeah, I got some classics on deck, but I wanna make sure you get somethin’ you like.”

“Well what’s the fan favorite?” You take a look around at the other patrons and find not a single one of them looks to be under 70 years old. “Other than maybe applesauce and prune juice,” you add.

“Very funny,” Joel laughs under his breath. “You’ll be old one day, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get there first, so you can tell me all about it so I can be prepared,” you shoot back with a devilish smirk.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re nothin’ but trouble?” he teases with a full body bump to your side.

You quickly look back down to the menu and wonder what he would say if you told him that yes you had in fact been told many times in many different ways that you were nothing but trouble – except not in the fun, lighthearted way that he’d just said it.

“Yeah, but I’ve heard worse,” you settle on.

When he seems to be sizing up your response, you give him a full body nudge of your own, which draws a soft chuckle from him. “So,” you say brightly. “What do you recommend since we don’t have to worry about our dentures popping out?”

He rests his arm along the back of the booth behind you and pins you with a put on stern expression. “Speak for yourself,” he huffs. He’s so broad and open sitting next to you like this. You could curl right into his side and fit so snug and perfect, you just know it. Somehow you just know it’d feel like his body was meant to curve around yours.

You giggle and turn to him, your hand finding it’s way to his lips before you can really register what the fuck you’re even doing. He stills, eyelids falling half-lidded for a moment as he watches you, and leans into your touch. The scruff of his beard is coarse and scratchy. You wonder what it would feel like against your neck, your lips, in between your legs. You tap his front teeth when his mouth opens into a smile. “Your denture guy does some real good work. Can’t even tell they’re fake,” you mock observe.

You want to touch his dimple so, so bad. It’s right there. Would he let you? Would it be weird? He still hasn’t moved, just sitting there letting you touch and poke and prod as you please. Your hand gently curves against his jawline, and your fingertip grazes against his dimple. “Is this your real hair or do you have a wig guy, too?” You meant for it to come out as a playful jab, but instead it was a breathy sort of question that betrayed the farce of innocent levity.

“I’m gatekeeping my wig guy, sorry,” he teases. “I’ll give you my denture guy’s contact if you want it, though.”

“Should I come back?” the waitress asks no one in particular.

You and Joel both missed her return to your table. Gravity feels stronger with how quickly your hand drops from his face. You situate yourself forward again to face the server. Joel still keeps his hand along your back where it rests on the booth. “You need a minute?” he asks you softly. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice even though it hasn’t emerged onto his face quite yet.

You know he means do you need more time to look at the menu, but all your brain can recognize as needing a moment to process is the insanely flirtatious banter that’s definitely crossed over into inappropriately touching your boss territory. “Um, can you just order for us both?”

“I got you,” he assures you with a smile. Your tummy flips because again there’s so much more to his words than their surface value. He does have you. He has you in ways you haven’t even begun to openly admit to yourself despite feeling it.

He has you in the way that he’s always been on your side since you first met. Taking up for you when Jeremy was being an asshole. Recognizing and having faith in your abilities to do a job you have zero experience for. Driving you to and from work every day so you had safe, reliable transportation. Calling to check in on you whenever he wasn’t in the office. Texting you on the weekends. Taking the time and the effort to explain things to you until you got the hang of it and never making you feel dumb about it no matter how many times or how long it took. Letting you come over to his house when you said you were alone at your own. And even the little things that might not matter to most people – getting the door for you, making sure the temperature in the car was comfortable, asking if the music playing was okay or if you wanted to change it.

Joel takes care of you in so many ways that on their own might seem insignificant or standard but all add up to one overwhelming sense of being looked after.

He orders for you both – a monte cristo sandwich and chicken and waffles - and you settle into easy conversation again. You’ve never tried either dish, and you soak in the eager way Joel explains them to you in detail and what he thinks you might like about them. You end up preferring the raspberry jam to dip the sandwich into over the strawberry jam that Joel liked better. The chicken and waffles are absolute perfection, and Joel is nice enough to let you have the last bite.

Your stomach was uncomfortable with fullness, but you’d have to wait until you were alone in the office to unbutton your jeans for more room. You lean back with a heavy sigh against the booth and mindlessly snuggle against Joel’s arm there. You don’t remember when he put it back after the food had come.

“Not a breakfast person, huh?” The curve of a self-satisfied grin slips onto his mouth.

“Did I eat too much?” You feel self-conscious now. Maybe he’d meant to save some of it for later? You didn’t realize how hungry you actually were. It occurs to you that you didn’t eat dinner last night. You sometimes forgot to eat if you weren’t preparing a meal for your dad.

“Oh quit it,” he gently chides. “You know damn well I’m over the moon that you liked the food. I was nervous I’d oversold it to you.”

You relax again knowing that he wasn’t upset with you for helping eat the plates clean. “You always pick good stuff. I knew whatever you picked was gonna be good.”

His entire face beams with a deliriously pleased grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe a little laugh.

He turns his head from you to look out the front of the diner, and you swear the tips of his ears are pinking just like the apples of his cheeks.

“So, can I ask a favor now that I got you all comatose with sugar?” he lobs at you and makes eye contact again.

“Ask away, Sugar Booger,” you giggle, feeling a little giddy and high off the carb and glucose laden foods. And maybe making him blush. And possibly also the prolonged proximity to him.

“Oh wow. No more syrup for you,” he jokes. “You sure you’re of sound mind? Don’t want you claimin’ an altered state later on and try to get outta it.”

“Is the favor that bad?”

Joel winces at the unintentional negative setup he’d created for his impending request. “No, I mean, it’s not– No, it’s not that bad. More just like I’m not the best with those sorts of things and could use some guidance.”

Your eyebrows lift in curiosity, and you wait for him to continue.

“So, there’s a guy on our crew – you’ve met him, I think? Paul?– and he’s been with us for 10 years this December. So me ‘n Tommy wanted to do a sort of, not like a party, but more of like a sit down dinner sort of thing? And invite all the employees to come celebrate.”

You stare blankly at him, wondering how this was supposed to be something you’d have a better hand at than Joel or Tommy.

“I know it ain’t your job duties, but I could use a little help,” he admits. “Jenn always sorta just handled this stuff, and I shoulda paid more attention to it when she was—”

“I can do it,” you answer quickly. If Jennifer had done it, you could do it. You had to do it. You weren’t going to come into this position with none of the experience she had and none of the work ethic, too.

“You don’t have to. I can do most of it, but I just need a little help organizing it and whatnot.”

“I can do it.”

“Well alright then,” he says like he’s relieved it’s settled and didn’t take too much convincing.

He pays for the meal, and you both head to the car to start your work day.

Kenzie: sssooooo the job???

Her text comes through, and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline in pleasant surprise. You’re shocked she even remembered you’d quit the grocery store and started full time with Miller Contracting. After ten seconds of consideration, you realize she probably had a little more incentive to recall more of what’s going on in your life because she wanted the dirt on you and Joel. You can’t really blame her, though. You’d be the same way.

You: omg hi! yes, it’s been really good! hbu

Kenzie: caught up w my study buddy friend again this past weekend

Kenzie: he did better this time around

Kenzie: might have to give him a better dicking down score tbh

You: gotta love a fast learner right lol

Kenzie: no fr haha

Kenzie: so have u and joel fucked yet or what

You roll your eyes. Of course she probably would’ve already had this figured out and been fucking Joel on the regular if she was in your shoes, but you didn’t have the sort of inherent charm and finesse that Kenzie seemed to possess when it came to hooking up and relationships.

You: he’s literally my boss

Kenzie: ok but im not hearing a no…..

You: you are trying to get me fired 😐

Kenzie: no im trying to get u FUCKED

Kenzie: which btw whens the last time somebody knocked the cobwebs outta that pussy

You: omfg

Kenzie: 🎤🎤🎤 lets hear it bitch i need to know what im working with

You groan and scrub a hand over your face. You really, really weren’t in the mood for this particular conversation. It had been a long time since you’d been with anybody, but that wasn’t what made you reluctant to dive into the topic. You’d told her about your past experiences, but she never picked up on the fact that you didn’t mention who they had been with. Pretty much everything you knew about having a sex with a guy you’d learned from Kenzie’s extensive and detailed exploits. She would typically take the lead on conversations around hookups and whiskey dick and bad dating app matches, and you were happy to just listen along and live a little through her tellings.

You: don’t laugh

Kenzie: oh god ok hold on

Kenzie: ok im ready

You: it’s been like 3 years ish

Kenzie: WHAT

Kenzie: u didnt tell em this was an emegenyc!!!!!!!

You: are the typos for dramatic effect or are you legit that worked up

Kenzie: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Kenzie: if i wasnt in class right now id be calling you asap im so serious

Kenzie: omfg ur poor kitty wtf that is actually tragic

You: ok actually I think I’d just prefer you to laugh at this point instead of whatever this is 💀

Kenzie: ok ok sorry

Kenzie: im just in a state of shock let me pull it together

Kenzie: ok

You: you have to remember I haven’t been with a ton of ppl

Kenzie: pure and innocent okay mary mother of jesus 🙏⛪

You: it’s not like I don’t want to!

You: you’re supposed to be helping me rn 😒

Kenzie: ok well what was he like?

You: who?

Kenzie: the last guy you were with? 3 years ago?

Ah, there it was. The default assumption. It wasn’t usually intended to be rude or presumptuous, but it put you in a position of having to explain your departure from the “norm.” You sigh and decide to give Kenzie a chance. She was super open when it came to sex and all that, so maybe she wouldn’t be like every other person you’d had this conversation with, which thankfully had been very few.

You: nope never been w a guy

Kenzie: …..

Kenzie: im so confused rn

You: well kenz when two ppl like each other a whole bunch, sometimes their crotches get all hot and tingly

Kenzie: ppfffttttt dont have to explain that part to me

Kenzie: ok so ur a virgin?!

Kenzie: 👁️👄👁️

You: nope just never had dick or dick shaped things inside me

Kenzie: hmmm ok idk if thats how that works but im gonna roll w it bc i really dont know lol

You sigh again. You know she’s probably genuinely confused and probably also trying to halfway pay attention to whatever lecture she’s in, but it’s still frustrating nonetheless. This idea that sex had to be penetrative to “count” never made a whole lot of sense to you, but over the years you’d found out that you were in the minority with that viewpoint.

You: wow ty for your grace and understanding 😐

Kenzie: i mean it could be worse we could be starting from square 1 so at least youve got some experience under your belt we can work with that

You: I’m really not trying to fuck up this job like obviously Joel is hot but I don’t want to lose this job bc I cross a line and do something stupid

Kenzie: i bet hes huge 😮‍💨

You: that’s not helpful!

Kenzie: ok ok!!! sorry i literally cant help it hes hot and has bde like its not my fault im thinking about it

You laugh at that. Joel did in fact carry himself with the confidence of a guy who was “blessed below the belt,” and the thick, broad physique he had also had all signs pointing to big. You tried your hardest not to think about that, though, because once you got fixated on it that was it. His body always felt so nice and warm next to yours, and you’d put a firm boundary in your mind to not let your imagination run wild about what was beneath the clothes.

You: ok I gotta get back to work

You: text me soon! I want to stay in the loop with everything!

Kenzie: same! 💖

You: ❤️

You’d always preferred pants, but a dress was a single item and cheaper than buying a decent pair of slacks and an appropriate but not boring top for this dinner you were organizing. There was a steakhouse that wasn’t too upscale but still landed in that clean, woodsy tavern type of environment you felt was a good fit for the crew. You knew your usual jeans and t-shirts weren’t going to cut it, so you carved out a little time to bike up to a few thrift stores in the area.

The wrap dress you’d picked had a sort of matronly floral pattern, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, it looked better on a body than dangling from a hanger, so it wasn’t a total loss. You used a few carefully placed pins to make sure it wasn’t going to fly open in the middle of the dinner, and, voila! you had a sort of cute outfit to wear to this thing.

The Sunday of the event finally rolled around, and your nerves were at an all time high. You worried that you had forgotten something or that people weren’t going to like the party or that you were going to embarrass yourself in some way. You ignored the catastrophizing as much as possible, but even your favorite, softest t-shirt was feeling itchy around the color while you waited near the front hallway to listen out for Joel’s truck.

You couldn’t leave the house in your dress without your dad demanding to know when and how you’d gotten it. He’d never approve a new dress for just one singular work function. It’s tucked away in your bag until you can change into it later. You make a beeline for the door when you hear Joel’s truck pull up. You absolutely do not want him to interact with your dad. The idea of him confronting Joel about your pay sets your panic on edge.

“When are you gonna be back?” he barks out. He’d agreed to let you go to this work event, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“It’s supposed to be from 1 to 3, dad. I might have to help clean up after, but I don’t think it’ll take too long.” Your hand grips on the doorknob when you hear Joel’s truck come to a complete stop. Bits of imagined images flash in your mind of your dad finding out you’d been lying to him this whole time about how much you made. Your stomach clenches.

“Clean up after? You’re not even getting paid for this thing. Why the fuck would you— You know what, nevermind. If you’re stupid enough to work this thing for free on a weekend, there’s no point trying to explain to you why that’s fucking ridiculous.” He huffs and shakes his head with an incredulous, aggravated smile.

“I’ll be back soon. Bye, dad.”

He settles back into his chair and flicks through the TV channels. “Fucking moron,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

You pretend like you didn’t hear him even though you both know you did. Joel is approaching your front door when you bound down the steps towards him. “Hey, ready to go?” You don’t wait for an answer as you scurry to the passenger side. Joel rushes to open the door for you, and you feel bad about making him hurry. You just need to get off your street, and then your nerves might settle.

Joel hops into the driver’s seat and greets you with a smile. “Well hello to you, too.”

You force a smile back. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined this whole thing by being late.” He motions for you to put your seatbelt on, and it’s only then you realize he’s got on a nice pressed button up with dark wash jeans. His hair is lightly gelled and combed back.

“What the fuck,” you exhale.

“What?” He pulls back, brow knitted in confusion.

“You– You look so handsome.” It jumps out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

He bursts into a deep belly laugh and shakes his head. “Well you don’t have to sound so surprised about it.” He puts the gear in reverse. “Get your seatbelt on, sweetie.”

“‘Kay,” you mumble absently. When had the inside of the car gotten to 500 degrees? Were you sweaty or clammy? It was hard to tell. You shove the seatbelt into the lock and slump back, all while stealing glances at Joel. He pulls out of the driveway and heads down the street. You suddenly realize you look like an absolute dumpster fire in comparison. “I, um, I do have a different outfit. It’s in my bag.”

“Oh? You can wear what you’ve got on if you’re more comfortable in it,” he offers. “It’s just the guys. Nobody there to impress. I just figured I should put somethin’ on since I’m the big important boss, right?” He flashes a small grin your direction.

“No. I, um, I actually got, like, a real outfit for this. So. You don’t have to worry about me looking like a complete slob.”

He turns his head your direction fully now with a disapproving frown. “You look nice. Why’re you sayin’ that?”

You shrug and look out your window. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sounds like you did,” he contends.

“Sorr–” You clamp your mouth shut before the word can leave it. “I’ll word it better next time.”

The drive is quiet for a few minutes.

“Hey, you doin’ okay? S’everything alright?”

You hug your arms tighter around yourself. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seem bothered or somethin’. You sure nothin’s wrong?” he presses.

“Just nervous I guess about the party,” you half-lie.

He reaches a hand over without taking his eyes off the road, and your throat squeezes tight when his hand settles gently against the top of your thigh. “You have no reason to be nervous, okay? You did a great job, I just know it. And if anybody doesn’t like somethin’ — even though I doubt that’ll happen — we’re gonna say that I did it or chose it, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s our plan, okay?” he interjects. He stops at a red light and turns to look at you, pinning you with a tender but firm expression. “You’re an employee, too, remember? So you should have a good time just like everybody else, you hear?”

You nod and slowly put your hand atop his. You graze your fingers against the solid shape of it and feel grounded for the first time all day. “Okay. I’ll try to enjoy myself.”

“Good,” he approves with a gentle squeeze to your leg before putting both hands on the steering wheel again.

The steakhouse has a private room that you booked, and you get another boost of encouragement when you see that the setup they did is really nice. Joel appraises and compliments every balloon, confetti, tablecloth color, banner you picked, and so on until he starts repeating himself. You were worlds away from the stress of your house by now, and you slipped away to the bathrooms to change before people started arriving. You situate your dress so it hangs just right, double check the pins are in place, and give your hair a quick pat down.

“Oh good, no one’s here yet,” you sigh when you rush back into the private party room.

Joel’s hands are in his pockets as he casually stands admiring your efforts for the party. He turned when you spoke and stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that just because I was an idiot in the truck,” you dismiss.

“You look incredible!” he raves. He pulls his hands from his pockets and holds them out low to his sides as he approaches you with an open appraisal of your form. He’s standing so close now you feel a bit dizzy. It doesn’t help matters when he slides his hands to cup your elbows. “That’s a really nice dress. You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. Your chest might as well be on fire, and your ears were throbbing with a pulsing drum.

“And you’re not an idiot. I really wish you’d quit sayin’ that stuff,” he adds gently. His face is open, imploring you to stop the ingrained habit of tearing yourself down with simple but hurtful self-directed words.

“I don’t mean to,” you admit in a soft hush. You rest a hand on his stomach and fiddle with the small buttons there.

“I know you don’t,” he says just as soft. He smooths a cluster of stray hairs to sit behind your ear.

He nudges your chin before putting his hands back in his pockets. “Chin up, alright? Let’s have a good time.”

Your mouth twitches to the side in a little half smile. “Okay,” you agree.

You keep your word for the most part. The rest of the employees filter in one by one, all dressed in varying degrees of special occasion attire. You feel a bit better about your dress now seeing a few others wearing pretty much what you’d consider “elevated loungewear.” You recognize the names and a few faces, but you’ve never really had a chance to actually sit down and talk with most of them. They all seem friendly and easygoing. The back and forth between everybody feels like one of those scenes in a movie or TV show where everybody is sitting around for a holiday meal while the camera pans through all the boisterous, joyful interactions.

You surprise yourself by enjoying all of it and glancing around at all the happy energy zipping through the room. Normally you’d probably feel like the odd man out for not really knowing anybody that well, but the atmosphere is so warm and friendly that it feels perfectly acceptable to just be a content fly on the wall. It probably helps that Joel keeps checking in on you as he’s taken to doing.

You’re sat near the end with him and Tommy – prime positioning for whoever needs to get up and grab something or stand to make an announcement. The man of the hour Paul is seated near the other end of the table, which actually turns out perfect since most people’s attention keeps focusing his way. You make sure to keep the physical and verbal boundaries with Joel in check even though you wish you could just reach out and hold his hand.

The first snag comes when the drink orders are being taken. Everyone is getting beer or wine, and you feel a bit of panic rise up. You can’t remember the last time you drank, and you don’t want to make a fool of yourself or be the only person not drinking. It was a celebration after all, and the pressure to just pick something and deal with the consequences were weighing on you more and more the closer the wait staff got to you. You fumble with the drink menu and pray to god your hands don’t shake too much or heaven forbid your voice when you actually have to speak.

“And for you, ma’am?” the waiter asks politely.

“Um. Um… I … I, um…..”

“Oh, what about that peach moscato I was tellin’ you that Sarah won’t shut up about? You said you like moscato, right?” Joel pipes up.

You turn to him and try to hide the surprise on your face. You’d never had any such conversation. It dawns on you that he’s trying to help. “Oh, yeah! Perfect. Um. I can’t remember what it’s called, though?”

Joel pretends to be in thought for a moment trying to recall. “Hm, I think the label has a flower on it? A peach flower maybe?”

The waiter “regretfully informs” Joel that he isn’t familiar with the moscato in question. You feel a bit bad for him knowing all of it was just something Joel had pulled out of his ass to save yours. Joel shrugs and says whatever peach moscato they’ve got would do. The waiter nods and scribbles down your order before excusing himself and taking Joel and Tommy’s orders for beers. Everyone is served their beverage, and you actually think your fizzy pink drink looks pretty with all the peach slices floating around in it.

“Mind if I try some?” Joel asks when you haven’t taken a sip after several minutes.

“Oh, go ahead.” You hope he takes a big gulp so you have less alcohol to get through. When he does just that, it takes all your effort to not jump into his arms. He makes an approving face at the taste of it before setting it back down in front of you. He leans closer to you and quietly says, “Weak as shit just like I figured. You should be good with what’s left.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He leans back into his own space and gives your lower back a quick, encouraging rub.

Everyone is ordering steak and seafood and some of the fanciest food you think you’ve ever heard of. You choose the peppered mustard salmon filet at the waiter’s suggestion that it would pair nicely with your moscato. You finally do take a sip and whip your head Joel’s direction.

His eyebrows raise in question, and he breaks into a soft grin when he recognizes your pleased reaction. “You like it? S’good, huh?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod. “It’s actually really good. Thank you.”

He leans in again so just you can hear him. “Sorry I cleared most of it already. Was just tryna let you off the hook. You want me to order you another one?”

“No, that’s okay. I really appreciated that, by the way.”

“Of course, hon.” He pulls away and cuts through his medium rare steak. He offers you a slice, and you take a bite. It’s delicious. You all share a laugh when he asks if you want to try some of Tommy’s medium well steak, just so you can see the difference of how steak should actually be eaten. “Whatever, man. If not wantin’ your food to bleed out all over your plate is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right,” Tommy asserts with a sparkly eyed grin.

After dinner, a few of the crew stand to make their toasts and reminisce on times Paul made an ass out of himself or dropped a really expensive power tool and broke it or found himself in the awkward position of being pursued by both the husband and wife – separately – on a kitchen remodel job he worked. Tommy stands and says a few words about Paul’s work ethic and great attitude that keeps the hard days from being unbearable. Joel stands and offers a few words of his own and then detours a little.

“And we’ve been so lucky to have a guy like Paul with us for these past 10 years. We always wanna show our thanks to him and to all of you for showin’ up every day and just gettin’ shit done.”

The table murmurs in agreement with a few people making exaggerated whooping sounds.

“And I also wanna say,” Joel continues, looking down at you and gesturing for you to stand with him. Your legs feel like jelly as you rise and let him wrap a loose arm around your shoulders. “That this one right here put all

this together, so a special thanks to her for that.” Most of the table gives their cheers! or their quiet golf claps, and you fight the urge to run away and hide under the table. “She’s also the reason why y’all’s paychecks didn’t get fucked up when Jennifer had to leave us so quick—” Joel gives a pointed look to Corey, an employee and Jennifer’s ex-fiance once she discovered his cheating, who blushes and drops his gaze “—so let’s all make sure to let her know we appreciate her coming on board in the middle of all that mess and helpin’ to keep things on track.”

The table collectively gives a genuine round of cheering and laughter in praise of you and your role in their undisturbed paychecks. You nervously smile and wave in acknowledgment. Joel gestures that you can take a seat again, which you gratefully accept.

“So here’s to all of you from me and Tommy both. Don’t matter if you’ve been here 10 years or 10 months, we wanna say we appreciate the work y’all do. Thanks everybody for comin’ out today to celebrate.” With that, Joel tips his beer in the air to toast with everyone, and you sip down the rest of your drink.

As things start to wind down, you excuse yourself to the restroom and pluck your phone from your bag to check it before coming back. Just another reason why you could never truly be a dress sort of girl: the lack of pockets. You have a warm glow about you as you assess your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and you know it’s not just the few sips of moscato you’ve had. This had been fun. Being out with other people – and even with everyone drinking – it never got too rowdy or uncomfortable. Your chest pangs at the thought of how much you wish you could do something like this more often.

But that wasn’t your life, so you quickly brush those feelings away. You’d learned long ago that lingering on the impossible only made you feel worse. You sigh and pull your flip phone from where you’d ungracefully shoved it into your top. Your heart drops when you see you’ve missed 7 calls from your father. It drops even more when you see he hadn’t bothered texting. It signaled one of those moods he got into where he’d get indignant over the thought of having to exert too much energy to access you. You should be the one checking to make sure he didn’t want to say something or need something.

Your hands are shaking as you exit the bathroom to get a better signal in the hallway. The phone only rings twice before your father picks up.

“If you aren’t going to answer my calls, there’s no need for you to have a phone at all,” his cutting voice comes through.

“Dad, I’m so sorry, I was just—”

“Do you even know what time it is? Have you even been keeping track of it?” he interrupts.

You regretfully haven’t. You’d been having such a good time that you hadn’t thought about how long it’d been. You’d booked the room for 12-4. Hadn’t you told him you’d be staying behind to help clean up? It couldn’t be that far out of the window, could it?

“Dad, it’s a work–”

“Bullshit!” he snaps. “You have other responsibilities! You know all the shit that needs to be done around the house before the week starts!”

You flinch even though he’s not present. You knew that tone all too well.

“Dad, I swear I’ll—”

“You can’t just leave all your responsibilities in the dust just because you want to go out and get rowdy with coworkers!”

“I’m not, dad! Please just let me—”

“GET YOUR ASS HOME IMMEDIATELY!”

“I-I’ll stay up to get everything done, dad. I swear! I’ll get started right when I get home!”

You imagine he must mean pressing his shirts, cleaning the kitchen, and tidying up in general. And whatever other chore he dreamt up on the spot that you were expected to jump up and do without question.

“If you don’t get home soon, I’m gonna lock your ass out. See if you lose track of time again after that.”

“Dad! I’m leaving soon! I–”

The other end goes dead, and you pull your phone away to see the home screen. He hung up on you. The clock reads 4:37.

Joel is happy to see his employees getting some downtime, an opportunity to throw back some beers and shoot the shit with each other. They all worked so hard. It felt good to be able to do things like this for them.

You’d slipped away to the bathroom several minutes ago, and Joel excuses himself with the intent of thanking you without anyone else around. He figures he could use a bathroom break himself, and he winds through the restaurant towards them. He stops just short of the hallway when he hears your voice, but it’s not your usual tone. There’s a shakiness to it that Joel immediately clocks.

“I’m not, dad! Please just let me—”

Why do you sound so panicked? Did you say ‘dad’? Why would talking to your dad have you so frazzled?

“I-I’ll stay up to get everything done, dad. I swear! I’ll get started right when I get home!”

What did you have to stay up to do? Why did you have to get home to get started on it? How much of it was there? You hadn’t even been gone that long.

“Dad! I’m leaving soon! I–”

There’s just quiet after that. Joel immediately thinks back to a conversation he’d had with you earlier this week after you’d finished a call with a particularly disgruntled client.

“You sure you never worked at a call center or somethin’?” Joel laughed.

“No, never. Why?”

“S’just you don’t seem fazed at all by people bitin’ your head off. It’s the sorta thing you think seasoned debt collectors would be used to, not somebody workin’ at the supermarket.”

He then thinks about the way your dad spoke about you when he’d run into him at the car shop. Joel starts to wonder if it’s the same way he talks to you.

He slowly rounds the corner to find you staring blankly at your phone. Your head snaps up when you notice him.

“Oh! Joel, hi. You scared me,” you breathily laugh.

“Hey, you okay?” He can’t help himself. He considered playing it off like he hadn’t heard anything – to just mind his own business for once when it came to you – but he had to know if there was something wrong, if there was something he could help with.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. My dad just gets really worried when I’m out by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself,” he contends, a little offended by the notion that your dad didn’t trust him for some reason. Joel reminded himself that he was protective of Sarah and that your dad was probably just coming from the same place. He couldn’t blame a dad for being protective over his baby girl.

“You know what I mean,” you breathe with a shake of your head. The undercurrent of your words came through clear as day: please don’t make me explain it because I’m so, so tired.

“Yeah, alright. I, uh, overheard a little bit when I came ‘round the corner. You, uh, need to get home soon?”

Your sad eyes locked onto Joel, and it took everything in him to not scoop you up into a tight hug and tell you that he’d do anything right now to see you as carefree and happy as you’d been not that long ago at the table.

“Yeah, sorry. I can call a cab if you–”

“No. We can get goin’ if that’s what you wanna do,” he assures you. “Let me just use the bathroom real quick and say bye to everybody. We’ll get goin’ quick, alright?”

Your frown added to the contradiction of the entire situation. It didn’t seem much like you wanted to go home at all despite insisting you did. Joel knew he’d be replaying the entire day over and over in his head to figure it out.

Joel had offered to walk you inside after getting the car door for you, but you managed to talk him out of it, saying how he’d done plenty for today and that you’d see him in the morning. He waved and reversed out the drive before disappearing around the corner.

The front door was unlocked. You breathe a sigh of relief. One obstacle down, one million to go.

Your father is waiting in the foyer for you, tall and imposing. “Took you long enough.”

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“What’re you wearing?” He rounds on you now like a buzzard on rotting flesh.

Your gut turns when you realize you’d forgotten to change out of your dress. He pulls at the sleeve as if to inspect it.

“Dad, be careful! That’s Kenzie’s dress!” you lie. “If I mess it up I’m gonna have to replace it!”

“Oh, is that so?” he sneers. He yanks your bag from your shoulder and flips it upside down, emptying its contents all over the floor. You stay frozen in place as he uses his foot to kick around your things and search for some incriminating item. You almost lurch forward when he toes your clothes to the side and sees your work phone.

“And I guess this is Kenzie’s phone, too? Just borrowing a brand new phone from a friend?” he mocks as he leans down to pick it up and shove it in your face.

You shake your head, your tongue heavy and inoperative, and a black fit of rage clouds over his eyes.

“So, you’re stealing money from the account somehow, huh? Spending it on ridiculous things for yourself? How long has that been going on?” he demands.

“No, I’m not! It’s for work!” you plead.

“Oh yeah, just like this little function today was for work, huh? BULLSHIT!”

It happens before you can stop him. You watch in horror as he throws your work phone into the wall. It thuds to the floor with cracks throughout the screen in several places.

“Dad, stop! I need that for work!” you cry. You scramble to the floor to salvage what you can.

Something in your voice must tell him you’re not lying. He seems to realize you’re telling the truth: it is a work phone. You hadn’t been hiding anything or spending money – your own money from your own account.

“See what happens when you keep secrets? Makes me feel like I can’t trust you at all.”

It’s as close to an admission of error that you’re going to get. He certainly wasn’t going to outright apologize. You hold back tears until he stomps off into the living room and plops down in his chair, just where you’d left him earlier today. You gather your mess of things from the floor and try to pull yourself together enough for the hours of chores ahead of you.

You’d been close to your normal self on Monday morning when Joel picked you up. He was waiting for some somber mood or vague mention of yesterday’s hasty departure. But, you were acting like nothing had happened. So, Joel did, too. He’d found that taking your lead with these strange situations was the only thing that kept your guard down. He’d have to just work the information out of you slowly and gently.

The entire thing had left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe your dad had really just been worried about you being out past when you’d said you’d be home, but was it really necessary for him to get so upset over it? You couldn’t just up and leave of your own accord since Joel had driven you both, so why did it seem like your dad was blaming you for something you had no control over?

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he saw your broken work phone that the uneasy feelings came back tenfold. You’d sworn up and down that you’d dropped it a couple days ago and that you’d meant to tell him about it but forgotten. You’d apologized profusely for it and urged him to deduct the amount from your paycheck.

It just added to that nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. First the apparent relief of being paid cash. The fact that your dad was on all your accounts. The condescending, sharp way he’d held himself when Joel ran into him at the auto shop. The way you always seemed to change the topic whenever family or home came up. The way you sounded upset on the phone with your dad on Sunday. And now your work phone had been “dropped and cracked.”

It all gave Joel a bad feeling he couldn’t quite pin, but he couldn’t root it on any one thing in particular. All he could do was keep a closer eye on you and watch for more indications.

He takes you to get a new work phone and doesn’t leave until you’ve picked out the color you want of the newest version available. He doesn’t entertain your hesitance at accepting such a “nice gift.” He downplays it for your benefit. “Nah, quit it. It’s a work thing, but, hey, if it feels like a gift, I ain’t gonna argue with that.”

You were supposed to be getting direct deposits just like every other employee starting next month after Tommy had pressed him about it, but Joel wanted to keep that on hold until he got a better idea of what this bad feeling was that had taken hold of him. He’d been paying you in cash and driving you to the bank every other week, and he suggested doing that for “a little while longer” until he “could get some other things sorted out.”

To no surprise, you had no qualms with the offering.

You’d faked your excitement with everyone else around the office about the days off coming up for the holiday. Now here you were up at the crack of dawn trying to scrounge up whatever you could to put together something for today. It wasn’t going to be a Thanksgiving feast, that’s for sure. Part of you is relieved when your dad wakes up and tells you he’s going to Denise’s for the day. He’d been standoffish since he’d thrown your phone, but you didn’t dare acknowledge his almost rueful demeanor. If he didn’t directly address it, you knew better than to bring it up.

Just for good measure and to keep you in line, your dad explains that Denise’s parents are going to be there today, and he’s not willing to risk you tagging along and making some sort of scene. He wants to make a good impression, and it’s abundantly clear he doesn’t consider you someone that would make him look good. If you’re not an asset, you’re just in the way.

He takes the one decent dish you’d managed to produce and tells you not to wait up.

The quiet and calmness of an empty house is a rarity – a nice change of scenery – but you can’t pretend you’re not a little lonely. Something about the holiday where you’re meant to gather around family and friends and express your gratitude for them and everything else. It all amplified your solitude. You can’t keep your mind from drifting to your younger brother Calum who you hadn’t heard from properly in months.

He’d made the choice to leave almost a year ago. In truth, you’d never really felt lonely until he left. And as much as it hurt to no longer have him here with you, you understood. The least you could do was respect his choice and give him the gift of leaving this awful place behind. He didn’t need reminders of his past, what he’d decidedly departed from, when he was probably enjoying himself on Thanksgiving for the first time ever. You smiled as

you imagined the friends he might be having a meal with. At least one of you got out. You don’t begrudge him, but you do wish there was some way to know if he ever missed you.

A blanket work text comes through on your work phone. Some sparkly cornucopia graphic with even more sparkly text that read Happy Thanksgiving! It was sent by Joel, but you had a feeling the graphic was more of Tommy’s doing. You respond back to Joel on a private text.

You: happy thanksgiving :) shame you didn’t send out one of your famous emoji stories tho

Joel: Tommy made me send that ugly thing.

Joel: Thought of you earlier, by the way.

You: oh?

Joel: Yeah the parade was on, and I saw the Jolly Green Giant. Creepy fucker. Don’t remember him looking like that.

You: and that made you think of me? 😐

You snort at the inadvertently rude comment and break into a wide smile when his contact takes up the screen.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you assure him.

He groans on the other end. “Listen, I was tryna say that I thought of you ‘cause of the grocery store, you know? Canned green beans at the store? And you used to work at the supermarket, so… And the float was ugly – I don’t think you’re ugly, not in the slightest — I, well— now that came out wrong, goddammit—” You openly giggle at his floundering, and he lets out a nervous, self-deprecating chuckle.

“Been making merry it sounds like,” you lightheartedly tease.

He makes a sheepish sort of sound and admits to “having been bullied into a coupla bottles of beer by Tommy” but is quick to assure you he’s going to “stuff myself with some appetizers to soak some of it up before talking to any other employees.” You grimace at the reminder that this is not in fact some friendly call but rather your boss just sending out a mass text wishing everybody a nice holiday.

You wish you were there with him. His warmth and kindness feels like it was meant to be shared on days like this, surrounded by a good meal and a happy family. Even this somewhat inebriated version of him is so different from what you’ve grown up with.

“Sure is quiet over there,” he notes.

“Yeah, I just stepped outside for a minute when I saw you were calling.”

“Ah, well don’t let me keep you from it, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling, Joel. Say hi to Tommy for me.”

“Will do. And, uh, sorry about the green beans thing again.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me a trip to Blue Plate Diner for that one.”

He laughs and agrees that the “punishment fits the crime.” Your heart stutters at the promise of getting to cuddle up next to him in a booth again.

“So, you ate good and all that?” Joel asks as he turns the wheel.

“Oh yeah. Probably gained five pounds,” you lie with a fake laugh. “How about you? Tommy bully you some more after we talked?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Gotta remind myself that alcohol hits different the older you get. Gotta have some food in me first before I start sayin’ crazy things.” He grumbles to himself when he pulls into the office parking lot and finds a large portion of it sectioned off with cones. He spots somebody in a high visibility vest and hops out to talk to him.

You watch on as he points to the various cones and then to your office door. The worker nods and gestures to something down the road. You try to follow along to where he’s pointing, but his hand drops before you get a good look. After another moment of discussion, Joel shakes the guy’s hand and moves a few cones aside. To your horror, he motions for you to drive through.

It’s a short, straight path. You don’t have a license, but this was as simple as it got in terms of driving without hitting anything. The entire lot was empty except for the cones Joel had moved aside for you. You shakily scoot over to the driver’s side but can’t make yourself shift the gear. You’re suddenly cold and clammy, staring blindly at the wheel and the gearshift. Why can’t you just do this simple thing?

You jump at the door opening. You hadn’t even noticed Joel making his way back over to you. “Hey, you’re alright. I got it.” He hops into the truck without another word, and you barely shift over enough to make space for him. You wait for the insults to fly, but they don’t come.

No why you couldn’t manage such a simple request?! barked at you

No I have to do everything myself! hurtled your way.

Instead, he pulled into a space and put it in park. Before you’d even opened your mouth to apologize, he waved you off. “Nah, shouldn’t have assumed you were comfortable with it. That’s my fault,” he offers casually.

“It’s so stupid, I should’ve just–”

“Shouldn’t have asked ya in the first place. Not right. I know you don’t have your license, and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be comfortable even if I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that spot.”

Your mouth feels dry, adrenaline coursing with the stress of a reprimand that wasn’t going to come but you’d been trained to expect. He hops out and gets the door for you, just like he always does. You take his hand as you step down from the truck and hate how you have to let it go.

“You know, uh, if you ever wanted to, I could take you to get your learner’s. I could take you to practice – you know, just learn the basics. If it’d make you feel more comfortable….”

“Yeah, okay.”

You had to learn to drive eventually, right? And you weren’t about to turn down more time alone with Joel.

You listen as he rattles on about all the abandoned parking lots and empty job sites he has in mind for you to practice without the stress of people or cars around. You want to tell him that if you were with him you knew you’d be alright. You settle for a “thank you.”

◦ ty to @jupiter-soups for looking this over ◦ posting this a tad earlier than planned bc I'm going to be offline towards the end of the week and want to make sure this goes up without any issues ◦ ty for all the love thus far on this series!

tagging those who have shown interest (lmk if you want be removed):

@verybigvag @drunk-and-capable @bizarrelove-triangle @dontjudgemyobsessionpls @cumberpegg @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @umnitsa @ellenmunn @zooty-and-fruity @walw1017 @keylimebeag @beelzebeth87 @janaispunk @wand-erer5 @0vix0 @pastelnap @goodwithcheese @akah565 @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin

#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fluff

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gabriel-xander · 21 days

Text

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

4: Reading the Instructions on the Back of My Ramen Noodles Package: "Oh, Lore?"

♪───✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You and Toriel came to an immediate and silent agreement: do not leave the house alone.

She isn’t trying to keep you imprisoned, nor are you such a pussy that you’re too scared to be alone. You’re actually pretty strong since one, you thought it would be funny. Two, you used to have to carry someone your age a lot when you were seventeen, so you (had to) build some muscles to be able to do it regularly. After that, you thought it’d be good to maintain that strength.

[Your build is actually deceiving to your physical strength, though. / Most people can probably guess you’re strong from your stature.] Either way, you don’t use that strength for malice since you don’t enjoy hurting others, and one day you’ll be officially taking the Hippocratic Oath. You might as well start living by it now to the best of your abilities.

It’s already the next day since you’ve arrived in the Underground, and there have been no signs of Flowey. You’re sure Toriel must be able to at least sense him, but not even she can say if he’s watching from afar or not.

Toriel is taking it upon herself to show you around the Ruins, taking you back to the beginning.

You picked up the toy knife before getting busy. You explained to Toriel that you won't use it, but you just liked to collect things. It's not really a lie, so you didn't feel bad about hiding your true intentions.

Anyway, Toriel watches you do the puzzles on your own, surprised to see how easily you’re able to do them fairly quickly.

“Not to give myself a congratulatory slap on the a–ahh–on the back,” You quickly correct yourself since there are monsters in the room, “But I was in high honors and AP classes at University. I got a big brain in this noggin’ of mine.”

You only corrected your language to keep up the appearance that you’re a kid. It’s not ideal, but you’re not trying to blow your cover.

──

“I would… advise that you continue to wear this out should we leave the house,” Toriel had told you as she gave back your washed, striped dress, “I don’t want to tell you how you should act or talk, but it might be a little safer this way. If somehow, you encounter a fight, monsters may not attack you as hard if they believe you to be a child. You understand, do you not?”

You pouted, taking the dress, “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. Uh, I would like to apologize in advance if I swear on accident, though. I can’t help it.”

“Oh, please. It’s not as if though children don’t have a potty mouth as well.”

──

Yeah, certainly not ideal. But you know she’s right so there’s no use in arguing with it. You and the goat mom leave the rotating rooms that aren’t actually rotating. The next room you enter is the one with the six patches on the floor, with the right switch in one of them. However, since the spikes on the ground have already been disabled, you don’t have to worry about these puzzles.

“Speaking of,” Toriel continues, walking by your side, “What was your life on the surface, my child?”

Oh, boy.

“Uh, it’s not very interesting. I’m in University to become a doctor–more accurately, I wanna get into med school to become a surgeon.”

“A surgeon? You mean those doctors that cut into bodies?”

You laugh, “Well, that’s one way of putting it for sure. More accurately, we treat injuries, diseases, and irregularities by physical removal, repair, or readjustment of organs and tissues, and that often means cutting into the body.”

“Oh, I understand more now. Is that not extremely dangerous?”

“It’s risky, for sure. I mean, unlike monsters, our bodies can handle that kind of stress of being cut open and healing after a while. But we’re still cutting into people, no matter what, there’s always some kind of percentage that something might go unplanned.”

You say “we” and “us”, but you’ve never cut anyone open. You legally can’t anyway until you get into the proper practices and have a superior watching you. You don’t know the first thing about cutting into someone either. You understand how to on paper, but that’s vastly different than actually doing it. If you so much as tried with your current knowledge, you might seriously hurt someone.

You shrug your shoulders with a smile, “It’s scary, you know, but it gives us a fighting chance rather than just not doing anything at all.”

“That’s quite admirable, [Y/n]. You should be proud of yourself!” Toriel beams, “What else was your life like?”

You wave at the three Froggits in the room you two pass through, pleased that they’re waving back. It might be from fear since they’re intimidated by Toriel, but you’d like to think it’s because they like the cut of your jib.

“I think in comparison to most people, it was pretty… wacky. My family is okay, I’m not close to my mom, but my dad is one of my best friends. I have two younger siblings, too.”

“What are your siblings names?”

“Noah is seventeen, and he tries to be a protective brother over me. But uh, he’s kind of a weenie. He means well, his heart is just really gentle. As for Alejandro, he’s fifteen. He’s really quiet and shy, but he’s got a stronger resolve than Noah. They make a pretty good team whenever I bring a date over when I used to live with them,” You roll your eyes, though you have a contradicting smile on your face, “I love them to bits.”

You don’t bring up the fact that you’re all adopted children, since that information is unnecessary. Not only that but your mom and dad would always scream “LA-LA-LA-LA-LA” whenever you or your siblings call each other adopted. You think it’s sweet they always reprime you and your brothers about it.

“You must miss them…” Toriel hums softly, a sad smile on her face.

You pass the Spider Bake Sale sign and start to go down the hall where Napstablook should be pretending to sleep.

“I do, but I miss them every day. I haven’t seen them in almost half a year because of school. I call them regularly, but we kind of have this understanding that I need to live my own life”

“Ah, I understand,” The boss monster nods, “Did you have any signi-”

“-Hey, wait a second.”

You put your arm in front of Toriel, stopping her from walking forward. She gives you a questioning look, looking over to the direction you’re pointing. It’s a ghost lying down on a pile of red leaves, effectively “blocking” the way. You could probably just walk through it and continue your day, but…

“Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z…”

The ghost, Napstablook, is pretending to sleep so well. He’s almost convinced you that he was napping if it weren’t for the fact that he is repeating the letter “Z” out loud repeatedly. Toriel doesn’t look impressed in the slightest, but you were greatly amused.

“This ghost is sleeping so peacefully,” You tell her in a hushed voice, “Let’s try walking around him.”

“…” She gives you the funniest side eye, “He’s clearly pretending to be asleep, [Y/n].”

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s saying “Z” out loud repeatedly.”

“It could be a ghost thing.”

You’re trying hard not to laugh at her expression. It’s like she knows you’re joking, but there’s that slight hesitation just in case you genuinely believe Napstablook is taking a siesta. Fortunately for you both, you don’t have to worry so much because Napstablook conveniently wakes up from his nap.

“i usually come to the ruins because there’s nobody around…” Napstablook opens his eyes, looking at you with a sheepishly little smile, “i’ll never forget that you had so much encouragement in my fake sleep…”

“Oh, I’m glad, then!” You smile patiently, offering him a thumbs up.

The shy ghost’s eyes flicker to Toriel, tensing up at her motherly glare.

“oh, i’m rambling again. i’ll get out of your way…”

“Wait, you–”

Napstablook doesn’t wait for you to finish. His body becomes more transparent than before until he’s gone. Oh… Well, that was disappointing. You sigh and gesture for Toriel to pass through first since the walkway is a little too narrow.

“It doesn’t seem like all the monsters are so bad,” You say offhand, “Maybe the ghost and I can be friends one day.”

“Mm… Perhaps, but…”

“I get it, I do. I’m still nervous around anyone who isn’t you right now. But you know, if we let our fear control our lives, we might miss out on a lot of great opportunities.”

Toriel laughs gently, “You are quite insightful, my child.”

“I might only be twenty-three, but I have my fair share of life experience,” You shrug, “Anyway, what were we talking about before we got interrupted?”

“Oh, yes. Did you have any significant others? Or do you currently have one?”

“HA!! As if anyone could handle my punk-ass. I’ve had a few partners before, but none that lasted for too long. I did have a first love, though.”

“Oh, dear. Did it not work out well?”

You reach the room with the mouse and the cheese. You smile softly as you two pass by the table. You hope the mouse can get the cheese one day.

“No, nothing like that. He had a skin condition that made him sensitive to the sunlight, and it made his immune system extremely fragile. He also had a brain tumor that was developing way too quickly to top it all off. We couldn’t afford his surgery no matter what we did, and he eventually passed away when we were seventeen.”

“Oh… [Y/n],” Toriel looks heartbroken on your behalf, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Briefly, she wonders if that’s why you want to become a doctor. If he had inspired you to pursue this career for yourself… What was your original dream before that?

You shake your head, “No, it’s not–He’s not a painful memory, and I never feel bad talking about him. But… He is my first love, you know? There is some grief and that’s a type of love you never truly forget or get over, but it’s more like I’m missing an old friend. I’ve grown to be more grateful about him than bitter.”

“If you don’t mind, what was his name?”

You smile brightly, happy to be able to share him with another, “His name was Kōrenki.”

────

On the way, you DID remember to pick up the Faded Ribbon and pocket it. Toriel was worried when you purposely fell in each hole (to look for it), but you couldn't leave it behind in good conscience.

You love talking with Toriel, and you get the feeling she loves talking to you, too! You’ve mostly been talking about yourself since she is so insistent on knowing about you. You tried returning the gesture multiple times, but as soon as she answered, she would follow up with another question about yourself.

You kept out a lot of gruesome things, though. Like how you’ve been stabbed, like, eight times in the past. How you were a law-breaking kid before a Kōrenki had put you on a better path. You did NOT mention that you thought you could totally be a singer but gave up immediately because singing in front of people is too embarrassing.

Every time you tell people that, they tend to pressure you into singing so they can judge for themselves. Just as if you tell someone if you’re ticklish, they’ll try tickling you. Even if you say you aren’t ticklish, they’ll think you’re lying and tickle you anyway-

Short story long, you learned not to bring that up about yourself.

“Wow, we’ve been walking down this hallway forever,” You chuckle as you barely reach the end of it.

“This is the Hallway of Independence.”

“How ominous.”

“Fortunately, since you are older and I am also with you, there is no need to test your independence.” Toriel furrows her brows as you two near the end of the hall, “Now… as for this part…”

Ah, the spiked floor. Unlike in Undertale, you didn’t have to wait for the rooms to load to see what’s up ahead. Reaching the end of the hall, you’ve encountered the wooden platform that leads into the metal, spiked floor. You wish you could remember the pattern of the other room to do it alone, but the memory escapes you.

“This puzzle is… Hm,” Toriel holds her hand to you, “Here, take my hand for a moment. Stay behind me, won’t you?”

You take her soft hand, giving it a light squeeze, “Got it, teach.”

Toriel takes you closer to the platform, and with little to no hesitation, she takes a step forward onto the spikes on the outermost right side. Before the bottom of her foot comes in contact with the metal, it retracts into the floor immediately. You pay attention to where she’s stepping as you follow behind her; it feels really familiar to you, and you can predict where she might step next.

Huh.

Guess you subconsciously remembered more than you originally thought.

You and the monster sigh simultaneously once you’ve reached the other side, safely off the hazardous puzzle.

“Some puzzles might seem too dangerous for now,” Toriel frowns.

You release her hand and walk up to the sign that hung on the wall. The text is a little faded, but you can still read it without much trouble.

“The western room is the eastern room’s blueprints.” You hurry to the east room, grinning and weakly pointing at the carpet, “Ahh, that’s clever. How long did it take for you to memorize that?”

The Goat Mother of the Year™ simply huffs a small laugh, “Not too long. I happen to have a very good memory, especially for things that I know are very important.”

“Now, isn’t that convenient? If I had a great memory like that I wouldn’t have needed to study so much for my mid-terms.”

Now you two enter one of the mine rooms, the one with the Dummy. The Dummy looks like he’s seen better days, but is still they’re still up and kicking it. Good for them. Good for them. (Damn, these bitches gay. Good for them. Good for them.)

Toriel stops at the doorway, though. She must want you to practice FIGHTing and ACTing on the Dummy.

Here’s the thing though: You don’t fucking know how. Unlike the game, the FIGHT, ACT, ITEM, and MERCY buttons weren’t in front of you so conveniently. Sure, you can compliment a son of a bitch, but do you just… do you just say: “Alright, you’re Spared. Now give me three gold.”?? You’re not sure if that’s allowed.

Did calling Flowey a Beta Cuck count as an Action? Did telling him he was stupid count, too?

“As a human living in the Underground, monsters may attack you. As we are both aware of when it came to that strange flower monster.” Ruh roh, Toriel is giving her speech. Perhaps she did expect you to practice on the Dummy. “You need to be more prepared for this. However, the process is simple.”

You step up to the Dummy, “Really now?”

“While you are in a fight, strike up a friendly conversation! Stall for time, and I will come to resolve the conflict.”

You grimace, “And… what if you’re not where you can hear me? Or if I’m too far away?”

The other woman didn’t seem to like this possibility. Her face scrunches up as she looks away, “Well… I suppose… We should be careful should you ever want to step out of the house.”

“I’m not in a hurry to leave the Ruins, I actually like it here. But… You can’t come with me everywhere, Toriel.” You tell her, aware this might not be something she wants to hear. “This is where making friends with the other monsters would be good for me. Maybe they’d be less likely to fight me, or even want to help keep me safe.”

You continue with a smile, “Like that ghost fella we ran into. He didn’t seem like he was feeling up for a fight. Who knows? We might get along if we got to know each other.”

She looks away for a moment, “I… I suppose we will have to consider it. Especially since you don’t plan to leave the Ruins…”

“Oh… Does me… Should I leave the Ruins eventu-”

“-NO!” Toriel blushes (magically, you assume) and looks away to the far wall, “Ahem. No. I am–very grateful that you desire to stay, my child. More than you know.”

Oh, you know very well. And maybe it’s that reason that helps you accept that you can never leave this place.

“Still,” The goat mom, now in higher spirits at you confirming that you want to stay with her for a long time, walks to stand by with you, “I would like it if you would practice against the Dummy. Perhaps I can even teach you a few self-defense techniques. Ah–Not to seriously harm anyone, but perhaps something that can keep you safe enough.”

“Yeah, I’d love that, Toriel.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #don't forget fanfiction #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #toriel #napstablook

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beauspot · 2 years

Text

so by like…i wanna say season 4 i think the bear will have a michelin star or at least i think that’s what syd and carmy are striving for.

you know one of those rinky dink places that isn’t like well known for its aesthetic but has delicious food? but i think while sydney wants it(and her season 1 self would probably push harder for it) i think carmy is actually going to be the one who becomes obsessed with actually getting it and if we’re following my 4 season plan of syd and carmy getting together the breakdown of their relationship starts end of season 3 start of season 4.

this could be caused by carmy being so engrossed in getting recognition from the culinary world he starts to neglect everyone’s needs, mainly syds and she thinks this is a sign of him reverting to season 1 episode 7 carmy so she backs off cause she doesn’t want to deal with that and THEN he realizes once she no longer wants him how hard he’s been pushing everyone and how he’s driving everyone away. the thing he’s been working on to NOT do.

So then he stops trying so hard to get the star and starts to focus back on syd, but oops she’s met someone else while he was being all in his own head, blah blah blah she ends up with this other guy(or girl/person doesn’t matter) but while she’s with them carmy is still trying to get her back cause he doesn’t care morality wise and he has no shame. you could say he’s…shameless.

and syd is trying her hardest to move on from carmy(wait this might be a five season plan) but still has feelings for him. anyways they begin working together again, in sync this time and they are notified that they are up for consideration for a michelin star. they’re so happy and they stay overnight to continue working and emotions are running high which leads to a tense moment between them at the restaurant where they’re staring at each other like…are we gonna do this? have a consensual workplace relationship? and then they kiss(infidelity arc EGAD 😱) also richie sees them because i think he would make the biggest deal out it and cause drama and we need drama it’s a tv show

so syd being upset she cheated goes back home and again is like “i gotta get over this guy somehow” and tries again to just forget about carmy putting distance between them and this time carmy is like “oh this is bad we really fucked up” and so he gives her space. it’s a few days later and sydney’s super broken up about what happened so she breaks up with the other person(they kinda know she still has feelings for carmy and they know that’s the reason but they don’t know they kissed) and somehow carmy finds out(cause i don’t think syd would tell him first i think she’d tell tina or marcus or something(WAIT. what if the person she’s dating IS marcus that’s even MESSIER))

he tells her he’s sorry and he stares at her with them big ass puppy eyes which nobody can resist and he really is sorry then in the middle of all this shit they find out THEY GOT THE MICHELIN STAR. everyone is bummed out tho and richie being richie decides that’s the perfect moment to expose syd and carmy(and if marcus and syd were dating then there’d be a sever in the relationship between carmy and marcus which sucks because i think marcus could be become another friend of carmy’s aside from syd)

but this splits the kitchen on who’s on who’s side and suddenly we’re back in mess because of course we are, just got a michelin star and everyone’s life is falling apart.

then we end the season with carmy being like “i’m sorry i hurt marcus but…i’m just tryna get with you sooooo😗” and syd is like “fuck it, let’s do it.” and yeah. season 5/6 maybe starts off and chefs kiss is secretly dating and everyone except like richie and tina probably are mad at them. richie doesn’t care what they did he’s just a dick and he thought it’d be funny, which carmy is annoyed by.

i say secretly but carmy can not keep his big ass spacial deep blue sea eyeballs off sydney so it’s amazing no one has figured them out. bit of a kanthony tease!

i don’t know why i wrote all of this.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmy x syd #syd x carmy #sydney x carmy #the bear fx #carmy and sydney #chefs kiss #the bear hulu #slow burn #richie jerimovich #carmen x sydney

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Foreigner's God: Chapter 4

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: It's time for the legendary Stark Party to turn some heads - and Tony does, just not in the way he's supposed to. Once again Eliza has to fix his mess, though this time it seems there is no space for rehabilitation.

Warnings: shit-ton of angst, trauma, panic attack, alcohol consumption, this almost made me cry writing it and it's not going to get any better from here on

Word Count: 19k

Read Chapter four: "This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things" here on AO3!

Got back safe. See you tonight! Can't wait.

received 4:23.

This is Matt, by the way.

received 4:23.

Thank you :) See you tonight x

sent 4:24, read 4:24.

“What’s got you so excited?” Pepper asked from behind the chair Eliza sat on.

She stopped giggling at her phone screen and looked up at the woman, her neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. “Nothing,” she claimed. “Just a funny video Pete sent me, is all.”

She clicked her tongue. “Uh-huh.”

“What? It’s true.”

“I know.” She still carried the same knowing grin. “I was just teasing. Relax.” Her hands caressed her shoulders with slightly more pressure, feeling the knots underneath the skin and the hot fabric of her bathrobe.

Eliza slumped back in the chair. “I’m sorry,” she was quick to say. “I’m just a bit on edge. This whole party makes me all shaky and stuff. I’m not as okay with it as I look on the outside. You know I don’t hate them, but I hate the fact that Ross and his judgy politician friends are gonna be here.”

Pepper hummed. She dug her fingers into her tense shoulders with delicious pressure. It hurt, but other than that Eliza felt oddly relieved when she began to massage the stress from her muscles. “You don’t have to worry,” she said. Her face appeared in the mirror and she stared into her eyes with a smile. “It’s all gonna work out. We’re just going to have some drinks and then Tony will make his speech and then after that, we can enjoy the party.” Her fingers ran through the mess of hair on her head.

She leaned back, though the sentiment only lasted for so long. Pepper pulled out the hairbrush to untangle the curls. She was never a gentle hair stylist.

“Now, why don’t you tell me how you want me to do your hair, huh? Are we feeling more feminine today or do you want me to tie everything up in, like, a straight ponytail or a bun?”

Eliza grunted. “I don’t know how I’m feeling,” she admitted. “But I guess you can keep them open. If you take those annoying bitches in the front and braid them so you can tie them together at the back, it’d be great,” she told her.

The woman had the strands already parted before she was done talking. “Like that?” she asked, demonstrating.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

“Alright. Are we gonna use a normal clip or the butterfly one?”

“You even have to ask?”

“My bad.” Pepper reached for the dressing table. The lavender-colored clip was indeed shaped like a cute little butterfly. Specks of gold decorated the wings. It fit perfectly with the outfit Tony picked out for her. “Butterfly it is,” she said. “What’s the Russian word again?”

“Babochka.” Eliza smiled. “Butterfly.”

“Babochka. I have to keep that in mind for the next language lesson that you’ll give me. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I want to know what the people around me are saying.”

“You mean you wanna spy on them?” She raised her eyebrows.

She shushed her. “You’re never too old to learn new skills,” she said. “Now, let’s see what I can do for you tonight.”

The night came soon and subtle. Eliza had to give it to Tony, the golden pantsuit did wonders to make her feel confident. The fabric fit perfectly where it was supposed to and fell loosely down her thighs. He even added in a low-cut top that hugged her curves. The designer must’ve added a few inches - the top itself didn’t look like it was made to be worn that way. With the jacket though, she had never looked better, and she’d worn many high-class outfits before this one.

She got Happy’s issue with the employees sorted first thing after she came back to the compound. By the time darkness rolled around, the chaos had settled down. The ‘A’ on the front shone brightly from the outside of the compound. The sustainable energy that supplied the building put all the work into keeping the Avengers’ trademark burning. What had once meant the world, now meant nothing at all.

Tony asked for a red carpet leading up to the front door and fairy lights instead of the big spotlights he used to demand at every event. Properly planning an event wasn’t one of his strong suits. He tossed in the idea, demanded everything, and then sat back as he expected the work to be done for him.

“Eliza,” she didn’t even hear Happy approach behind her.

She stood by the big window, looking out at the decorated driveway. Employees added the last finishing touches. Somewhere in the distance, reporters pulled up in their vans, ready to crowd behind the barrier to catch the upcoming guests off guard. With everything finally calmed around her, she almost forgot the seriousness of the situation.

“Hey,” she said.

”Have you seen Tony?” he asked.

Eliza grew suspicious at the nervous undertone in his voice. “Have you checked his office?”

“Yeah.”

”Dressing room?”

“Yeah, checked there too.”

“Pepper?”

“Would I be here if I hadn’t done any of those things you just asked?” The crease between his eyebrows was deeper than usual. Happy always worried too much, but the depths of the crease were seemingly endless this time around, and that never represented a good thing.

“I don’t know where he is,” she told him. Her voice wavered. “The party’s starting in half an hour, he’s gotta be somewhere.”

“I checked everywhere!” Happy cried. “I can’t find him. Pepper can’t find him. He’s supposed to give a speech a-and open the floor, but he’s not where I asked him to be.”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. Are you sure you checked everywhere ?”

“As long as he’s not hiding in the fridge, yeah, I’m sure.”

“Jesus!”

“Yeah, he did that once. I had to pull him out of there, drunk off his ass with a Martini in his hand, but he still managed to deliver. Anyway, we need to find him. Soon.”

“Wait, he was in the fridge?” she asked. “How did he get there?”

“Does it matter?!” he said. “This can’t be happening.” He was sweating. She saw the stains on the soft blue shirts as he threw his arms up over his head. “I thought tonight‘s gonna go flawless. We did everything according to plan. That idiot-“

“Hey,” - Eliza gently placed a hand on his arm - “I’m gonna go check. You greet the guests, alright? I’ll look for Tony and make sure the room is entertained until he’s back. We can do this. This ain’t the first time. There’s more on the line now, yeah, but that’s not on you. I have to fix this.”

She didn’t have to fix anything. She swore she wouldn’t make it her responsibility anymore, but when did she ever get what she wanted?

“You’d do that?” Happy asked.

“You’ve been stressed all day. The least I can do is take some responsibility.”

She dedicated her life to taking responsibility. Once, she associated the noun with what she was forced to do in the past, but on this day, Sokovia and Lagos stood high in the sky, and she had to take responsibility for the tragedies the Avengers caused in the name of ‘good’. After New York, the team had never flown higher. They never learned how to fly, but you don’t need to know how to use your wings when you’re levitating. No one prepared them for the fall they would take - big publicity meant more space for delusions of grandeur. The Avengers flew straight into the sun, some more than others, but in the end, they all carried the fault one way or another. It wasn’t just on one person, in particular, the Sokovia Accords, and what happened after was everyone’s doing. The consequences of their actions. Icarus.

Eliza suffocated under mountains of pressure as the clock came closer to reaching eight pm. She searched every last inch of the compound. The rough edges of her heels dug into the skin on her soles and the back of her calves. She leaned against the wall to take a breath – walking in these shoes was a whole workout – when she heard it. Somehow, she ended up in the basement, between boxes and old memories.

“Who’s there?” she asked. She didn’t get an answer. Turning the corner, there he sat, on an old armchair between moving boxes and furniture.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Tony.”

He looked up from the half-empty bottle of Scotch in his hand. “Shit,” he said. “I’ve been caught.”

She stepped further into the dimly lit hallway. “What are you doing here? Everyone’s been looking for you. The party’s starting.”

“Already?” He checked his watch. “It’s eight. No one’s on time at a party, especially not me. You know that.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Eliza said.

Tony laughed. He emptied the glass, then stood. He tried to, mostly. He was shaking.

“You’re right, it’s not,” he said. “You’re the only one who’s allowed to laugh about crappy situations. Got it.”

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” she only stared at him blankly. The loss of words reached its breaking point. She was at a loss for everything - words, sounds, feelings, everything. She was just numb at this point. Numb and furious.

“You know what, I am. I’m sick and tired of pretending everything’s fine. Look around! This place is a dump. You know this?” He kicked over a box that stood to his right. The metal inside clanged loudly as it came rolling to the floor.

Eliza looked at her feet. She could recognize the circular object anywhere. Painted red, white, and blue with a white star in the middle – it was a national treasure. The sign of someone standing for the nation, not against it.

Tony scoffed bitterly. “Captain America,” he stated. “Turns out that piece of vibranium my father made for him doesn’t make him a better person after all.”

“Why is it in a moving box?” she asked.

“To think he got the ball rolling in the first place because he just wouldn’t listen…”

“Why is Steve’s shield in a moving box?”

“You know, he was my friend too. We got along great before the whole Lagos debacle. I left him alone with you guys for one second and there he goes! He only did the mission because he was still holding a grudge. I mean, he was right to take Rumlow out, but at what cost? The kid barely knew what she was doing. No one taught her how to control her powers. You guys raised hell with that one. I don’t know if Steve failed to train you or if you just weren’t ready. Wanda surely wasn’t.”

“Would you stop?” Eliza growled. “This is my friend you’re talking about!”

“You always say ‘they’re my friends’ whenever I criticize any of them as if that makes what happened any better. People died, Eliza,” he said. His eyes drilled sharply into hers through his glasses. “I agreed on the Accords because I wanted to do a good thing. I made a compromise. I thought it would do us some good to finally have some control. People died and it was our fault! The Accords were supposed to help prevent something like this from happening again. And then-” he pinched his brows. “And then we somehow landed in Berlin and we did exactly what I didn’t want us to do - fight each other. We destroyed a perfectly good airport in the process. Tell me, do you think I was wrong to agree to the Accords? If you care so much about your friends, why didn’t you go with them?”

“You know it’s not that easy, Tony. I made the conscious decision to believe in the purpose behind the Accords. That doesn’t mean I hate Steve and everyone else now. We disagreed on one thing. A big thing, I give you that, but it was still just a disagreement, not the end of the world.”

“Well, you make it sound like you made the wrong decision and now you’re stuck with me. Maybe it’s the killer in you, or it’s the part of you that’s so obsessed with wanting to be someone else - I don’t care! I feel like you don’t want to be here and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

She threw her arms up. “Maybe I made the wrong choice!” Her voice echoed. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Steve,” she said. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now anyway because I’m here, no one else is. So you can go cry about how I have some valid regrets about how things went down and maybe, just maybe, have a slightly different opinion than yours, or you can pull your shit together and we can try again.”

“Why?” he shot back. “My words mean nothing. You tell me I don’t listen, but have you ever heard Rogers listen to anything I have to say? I don’t think so. And look where that got us! Look where it got them !”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tony!” she called his name louder this time. “I know you’re drunk, but the shit you’re saying hurts.”

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. The black eyeshadow used as eyeliner already started to disappear around the edges. All of Pepper’s work was about to be washed down the drain.

Tony pointed his finger at her. “You hurt me first,” he said with his whole chest. His voice broke, it cracked like a fragile vase, and the anger stuffed into the four words bubbled hot like the water from a geyser.

“ I hurt you ?” she asked. “First it was Steve, now it’s me, seriously?”

“You all hurt me! Every single one of you and you didn’t even care to ask how I’m feeling about any of this stupid shit.”

“Is that why Steve’s shield is in that box?” Eliza pointed to the ground where the contents of the carton lay splayed out.

“He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn't need it now anyway,” he said. “So I’m having it shipped out.”

He reached for the shield, but she put her foot down. He didn’t stand a chance against her strength. She used all of it. Her eyes darkened. “No.”

“No?”

“You’re not gonna ship it out,” she said. Her voice itself was a warning. “This is who Steve is – or was. Either way, it’s not leaving the compound. Not if I can help it.”

Tony pulled at the shield again. “That’s not your choice to make, you realize that, right? You’re not in control here.”

“Steve was my family! You’re not taking what little I have left. I don’t care if it stays in the basement, but you’re not taking Steve’s shield.”

“ I’m your family, too!” She launched back. He seemed to realize soon enough that the tone of his voice was picked poorly. He stared at Eliza and she stared back, dead tears in her eyes. He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Eliza breathed heavily. “Fuck you!” she said. Her throat tightened.

“Fuck me?” Tony scoffed. He pointed to the other moving boxes around him. “Alright, fine. If you want to hoard their stuff, go ahead!” God, he was so bitter. “I think Romanoff also left some stuff here. Knock yourself out! Less trash I have to take out.”

She exhaled shakily. The air burned in her lungs. She hugged Steve’s shield tight to her chest. The scratches from their fight were still fresh on it. “What happened to you?” she asked quietly.

“Honestly? You guys did. And now I’m here and have to stare at all the shit they’ve left me like I’m a masochist who likes to torture himself. This stupid party was a mistake.”

“You can’t just pull out now.”

He was one walking mess, worse than her, and he didn’t give a single fuck.

Her heart filled with rage and pain, so much pain. So much blue, so much red. She could see her colors floating around, but there was no fix for the way she felt. No power in the world could take away the disappointment she felt. She had to suffer through it. This was her curse, her personal hell, an endless fire pit with no rope to the other side.

Tony snapped his fingers. “I can,” he said. “I fucking can! Do you know why? It’s my party. I could stop this all if I wanted to. Send Ross back to whatever hellhole he crawled out of. I don’t care. I just want to be alone.”

She snapped. “That’s not your choice to make!” With the high audacity of her voice, the shield flew out. The vibranium grazed his neck and landed in the wall behind him, set in stone. She panted. “You can’t just say that shit and believe the world spins to your beat! It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “It’s not just your life that’s on the line here. You have money, you have houses; I have nothing. Rhodey has nothing. Peter is a child who looks up to you. We have absolutely nothing but each other and you want to ruin that for us? You want us to crumble the way you are right now? Is that really what you want us to remember you by? You want us to be mad and spiteful until you die one day, or one of us dies?”

“Don’t!” he shot back. “ Don’t pull the kid into this.”

“You pulled him into this, not me. You’re lucky no one knows who he is. What you need to do is prove to everyone and him that you’re the man everyone takes you for. You’re a role model, Tony,” she said, teeth bared. “You’re supposed to be the man that children look up to. Peter looks up to you. You pulled him into war and now he looks up to you because you made him something. You’re his idol. Just this once, act like it.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“I don’t care what you want, Tony! I passed that point a couple of minutes ago when you blamed me for your suffering when you know damn well you’re not alone in this lake of misery. I just need you to have some common sense and get that stick out of your ass because damn you! I tried to make this work. I tried to make amends and fix this. I couldn’t. You couldn’t. No one could. This fucked up situation is why we’re here today in the first place. You agreed to this. There was a time when you were still happy to be doing this. I don’t give a fuck if you mean it or not, just try to be normal for one fucking night. That’s not too much to ask, is it? If not for me, do it for Pepper and Happy. They love you, for whatever fucking reason. This is important to them. If you don’t come out, they’re gonna be so fucking disappointed. I can’t have you let them down like that.”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“I don’t. I care about my friends though, and they care about you. I’m not gonna stand by and watch you hurt them. Before that happens, I’ll tie you to a fucking stick and put you where everyone can see how miserable you truly are. Maybe then you will finally grow a brain cell or two.”

“You,” - he wiggled his finger - “are bad. Insufferable. I can’t believe this is working.”

“Don’t.” He looked at her and all he saw was emptiness, a face too consumed by disappointment to show anything else. “Drop the bottle,” she told him. “Straighten your tie, get that speech into your thick skull and then join the party like you’re supposed to. I’m not gonna ask again. Also-“ she tore the shield from the wall. Pieces of broken cement rained down. “Don’t you dare touch this,” she said, the warning sounding more like a threat. “You get rid of this and we’re done, understood?”

Tony sighed. He lessened the distance between them. “For your information, Eliza, I was never going to get rid of it,” he said. “I was just going to store it in one of the empty safe houses until I found a use for it.”

“Oh, really ?”

“Yeah, but nice of you to assume that I’ve never really cared about any of you. It truly lifts my spirits.”

And then he left, without uttering another word to her. He might have been drunk and bonkers, too, but he had a point. Not even Tony in his worst moments of anger would’ve thrown away all their memories at once.

The speakers played a soft nineties tune in the background, voices slowly filling the ballroom to the brink. People swarmed from all sides into the beehive and got offered drinks and conversation. The clicking of high heels mixed with the high echo of dress shoes.

Eliza slipped from the darkness into the crowd. The current dragged her down. She inserted the earpiece to inform Happy about Tony’s whereabouts. He wasn’t pleased, but he showed her his gratitude. She straightened her jacket.

The guests didn’t pay attention to her. They found the interior of the compound more interesting than the party itself. After some time, she lost count of familiar faces. She met most of them at least once, but there was still a handful that she didn’t recognize.

The barkeeper smiled at her. “Drink?” he asked.

She switched eyes between him and the crowd. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You seem pretty lost. You wanna drink?”

He dug through the crashed ice before him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Drink sounds great.”

“What’s your poison, darling?”

Eliza almost hissed at how sharply and easily he flirted. He was only a few years older than her, brunette, dressed in shades of brown and a pair of suspenders. His hair was fluffy, not slicked back. Rings covered his slender fingers. Hipster was the first word that came to mind, the second was ‘attractive’, at least conventionally so. Not quite her type but nice to look at.

She walked over to the bar. “Tequila, neat. Without the salt or the lemon. Just straight-up tequila, please.”

“That bad, huh?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“You have no idea.”

“Alright, tequila coming right up!”

He poured the clear liquid from the bottle into one of the crystal glasses she’d helped move upstairs earlier. His fingers handled the liquor skillfully. He played with the bottle, tossed it around, circled it around his head before he turned it, and allowed the hard liquor to run into the glass.

Eliza chuckled, yet she couldn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes at his desperate attempts to make her smile. The chuckle was dry. She didn’t feel like smiling. She would’ve laughed if he’d dropped the bottle, but other than that, she didn’t feel like anything other than getting drunk.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Eliza,” she said.

“Eliza. That’s a nice name. You’re one of Stark’s, right?”

The familiar burn of alcohol ran down her esophagus. “Unfortunately,” she said.

“I’m Benji,” he introduced himself. “The bartender.”

“Nice to meet you, Benji, The Bartender.”

“You too, Eliza. Can I make you anything else? Snack, maybe?”

“I’m good with drinks, for now, thanks.”

“Well, if you want to drown your sorrows, you know where to find me.” He slapped the counter. A couple stood at the other side of the bar, waving for him to take their order.

Eliza stared into the glass. The blurry picture of exhausted eyes stared back at her. She dreaded the evening more so than ever.

“Eliza.” The voice speaking her name in such a sweet, unique manner made her smile. She left the empty glass on the bar, quick to turn around and greet the man.

“T’Challa!” she said. It came more out of surprise than anything. “I mean,” - she dropped her voice - “ King T’Challa.”

He clicked his tongue. “Nonsense! Come over here.” The strong arms wrapped around her. “It is nice to finally see a familiar face.”

“It’s nice to see you. Been a while since we last met.”

“Yes, the circumstances of our encounter were a lot less… pleasant, I believe. But I’m glad we’re over that now.” He pulled away from the hug. He always smiled without care, his most valuable quality. “Tony Stark has invited me and my family to the party,” he stated. She followed his opened arms to the bar again. “I’m afraid my sister and mother couldn’t make it, but I am here today for all of us.”

“He really wants this to look as convincing as possible,” she said.

“I know this is more for Mister Stark’s sake than for ours, but I didn’t want to miss the chance of seeing you again. We parted on a slightly bad note the last time.”

Eliza scoffed, her head nodding out of instinct. “How is he?”

T’Challa smiled. He didn’t need to hear the name to know. “He is good. Ever since we woke him up, he’s been talking about you and Captain Rogers. I’m not sure he enjoys it very much, but the children like him,” he said.

Her voice dropped. “That’s something,” she said. “Say hi to him for me when you get back, will ya?”

“Of course. I think it is going to make him happy to know you are doing alright.”

“I’m alive,” she corrected him. “Far from alright but I’m here, I’m breathing. You can tell him I’ve got it all under control and that he doesn’t have to worry.”

“I will. He tells me he is sorry for what he did.”

“I know, he told me too.”

“And he’s also sorry you had to choose sides.”

“We all are sorry for so many things. Doesn’t change what happened. We have to make the best out of it now.”

“I believe you are right,” T’Challa said. “You are wise, for your age. That makes you a valuable partner. If this night goes well, perhaps you would appreciate a trip to Wakanda, eh?”

Eliza raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she questioned. “You wanna invite me to your home?”

“I’d love to have you in my home. We take family and friendship very seriously in Wakanda.”

“That’s nice.”

Benji came around again. He asked T’Challa for his choice of drink, to which he answered, “I’d like one of those beers you Americans like to drink so much.”

He handed him a bottle and fixed up another glass of tequila for Eliza. He left her behind with a wink that could’ve meant many things, but the most obvious choice was also the least preferred. The pair stood at the bar, indulged in their drinks and the faint sound of conversation. Their topics weren’t limited to Berlin or Wakanda, which was nice because finally, for a few minutes, her mind revolved around something other than the danger waiting in the darkness for them, without the weight of the past on her shoulders.

She laughed at something he said. “Sounds like your sister and I might just get along,” she said.

“I think you might be right,” said T’Challa.

“Perhaps I’ll take you up on your offer after all. When this is all over, I’m gonna need a vacation.”

With this, she didn’t mean the party. He wasn’t aware of what her life had come to. He would’ve understood if she had told him, he was wired that way, but this wasn’t Wakanda’s fight. This was hers, maybe even Daredevil’s if she squinted and ignored his overprotective personality. She had so much to worry about, so much that was still open, left to do. Hydra wasn’t a casual topic of conversation to throw into the ring while having drinks at a party.

“That would be lovely,” his voice sounded through her strain of thought. “We can cook a nice dinner and then I’ll take you on a trip around the city.”

She smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

He clinked his glass to hers. “I’m glad we agree.”

Eliza let her eyes trail across the room. She sensed them before they even walked through the door.

Foggy didn’t lie when he said they’d look fucking dashing. The man himself chose his best grey suit for the evening. He paired the outfit with a pink tie and pink dress shoes, which, to be honest, made her stare a little too long. He knew how to dress to impress.

Karen chose something blue. The dress fell down her long legs like a second skin. She braided half of her hair to the side, revealing her pale neck and the golden earrings she wore. The woman was beautiful, yet her hands fiddled awkwardly in front of her torso as if she was more than uncomfortable.

Their partner though – Eliza choked on the tequila. “Shit!” she cursed under her breath.

If she hadn’t been convinced of Matthew Murdock’s endless ability to get every person in a ten-mile radius into bed if he just so much as smirked at them before, she sure as hell was now. The man walked in and instantly sucked all the air out of the room. He knew what he was doing, she could see it in his face. His suit was black, the deepest shade in existence. The edges shone like acrylic in the slightly yellow lighting. He replaced his tie with the perfectly tied fabric of a bow around his neck. The white button-down strained against his chest – he chose the tightest size simply because he could.

The women in the room ogled him. Their husbands hardly paid attention to them, almost balls deep into the younger halves of younger guests. The female population was left reading the room and damn it! Once Matt walked in, Eliza could’ve sworn she heard at least a dozen panties drop. Her fists clenched around nothing. The reflex came out of nowhere, tensing her muscles in every inch of her body. Her jaw locked tight.

The music moved into the background. The crowd of people parted in the middle and the spotlight fell on the man on the other end of the ballroom. She saw him stand there in all his glory, the world around him just supporting actors in his movie. He smirked as if he could see her as if he could hear the beating of her heart loud and clear. The light danced in colorful hues around his body, reflecting off the red glasses, his face captured perfectly in the radiance of his aura.

She let her arms hang loose, staring at him. She eyed every inch of his body closely. She took in the way he moved, the way his suit crinkled as he walked. Time was a construct. Every second ran by in slow-motion. The room was dead-silent, frozen in place. The light opened a path towards her. It didn’t make sense. In some way, he saw her. Not with sight but in a metaphorical sense, which ran even deeper than whatever feelings she associated with the man before. He managed to scratch part of her she never even knew existed.

T’Challa chuckled next to her. His voice dug through the cotton that silenced all sounds. “Are these friends of yours?” he asked.

Eliza blinked. The crowd exploded. Matt disappeared. He wasn’t fully gone, just casually making his way through the abundance of people, hand tightly wrapped around Foggy’s bicep in fear of getting lost or trampled over, the other cradling his cane like a lifeline.

She licked her dry lips. The entire area of her mouth transformed into the Sahara desert. “Kinda,” she said.

T’Challa cocked his head. Her voice came merely as huffs of air, vocal cords straining against nothing. She was in no way tied down, though she felt suffocated. The chokehold this man had on her was immaculate, just like the sound of her two heartbeats. She felt the control just slipping from her fingers the closer he got.

It wasn’t even out of the question that Matt Murdock was in full control of her right brain – she wasn’t thinking anymore at this point. There was no nice way of saying this. She was physically infatuated with this man. Of course, she’d been attracted to many people in the past, but this went beyond saying ‘I’m attracted to you’. Her body was obsessed with him. The second he walked in, her heart dropped and every ounce of her body reacted in a disgustingly hot way.

Eliza nudged her left brain to jump in, and be rational, but her right brain was too focused on the man now before her to even consider acting compliant with reality. She straightened her shoulders, putting the mask back over her features.

“Eliza!” Foggy said. He waved, only a few feet away. “Hey, found you.”

“You found me,” she agreed.

“Bring it in!”

“Oh-“ he wrapped his arms around her. “Okay. This is nice.” She patted his back.

“It’s so nice to see you again.” He was way too cheery. His arms loosened and he stepped back again.

Karen smiled warmly. Something changed on her face. The reservation from before had vanished. Her blue eyes matched her dress. This time, when she looked at her, there was a soft glint in them. She was letting her guard down to prove to Eliza she could trust her, that she was willing to try again.

Eliza smiled back. “You came.”

“Turns out Foggy was right,” Karen said. “This party doesn’t seem so bad. It’s, uh, nice to see you again, Eliza.”

Foggy didn’t even give them a chance to indulge in conversation. “This place is amazing, holy shit!” he gushed. “I’ve never been somewhere with this many doors, man. Or rooms. Or lights. Or cameras. Or people. Ever. I still can’t believe it. Wow. To think Captain America was in the same room once is so fucking cool.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” she said.

“He hasn’t stopped talking since we got into the cab,” Matt chose to chime in. He smirked, eyes crinkling behind the glasses as if he knew exactly how she was feeling around him. “Nice seeing you again, Eliza.”

Eliza tried to casually lean against the bar. “Hi,” – she moved her hand from the counter to the back of her head, then back to the Mahagoni; honestly, she didn’t know what to do or how, she couldn’t even breathe – “Matt- Matthew,” she said. “How are you?”

He titled his head. “I’m fine,” he made it sound more like a question. “How’re you?”

“Good, good. Yeah. I’ve never been better.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Better now that you’re here. All of you, I mean. Not just you, that would be weird.”

“Okay,” Matt chuckled.

Change the subject. “You guys look great!”

“Thanks,” Foggy said, beaming like a child. “I was waiting to get this bad boy out of the closet. You look smoking too though. Can’t believe you’re not the center of attention already.”

Eliza snorted. “Well, thank you.”

Karen rubbed her knuckles. Her eyes fell on the man next to Eliza. “Uh, who’s this?” she asked.

“Shit!” she cursed again. “I forgot. This is-”

T’Challa only chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is T’Challa, I’m a friend of Eliza’s.”

Karen took his hand with a smile. There was the ghost of a blush resting on her cheeks. It could’ve just been the heat though.

“Karen Page,” she said.

Foggy gaped at the man. “T’Challa as in-“ he closed his mouth again. “Oh, my god!”

“Please, none of this.” T’Challa motioned for him to rise from his bow. “We don’t do that where I’m from.”

“But you’re a king .”

“I might be a king on most days, but today I’m just a normal man visiting his friend. Besides, title doesn’t matter to me. In Wakanda, we’re all equals.”

“I knew you seemed familiar,” Karen said. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

“You people watch too much British television. Call me T’Challa, I insist.“

“Foggy Nelson,” the man introduced himself and went in to shake his hand wildly. “I’m Eliza’s lawyer. It’s so nice to meet you, your high- I mean, T’Challa.”

Matt nodded in his general direction. “Matt Murdock,” he said.

T’Challa nodded back. “Nice making your acquaintance, Mister Murdock.” Turning back to Eliza, he said, “I am going to give you and your friends some space to talk.”

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“I need to check in on my sister now anyway. I will find you later, yes?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay, have a nice evening.” He curtsied, leaving at least two of them speechless.

Foggy waited until he was gone to gasp loudly. “You know the king of Wakanda?” he asked.

“We fought on the same side,” Eliza stated. “They don’t have the same traditions in Wakanda as we do here. He’s, uh, pretty great.”

“Yeah, and he’s a king! This just keeps getting better and better.”

“He’s humble,” Karen said.

“Yeah, that’s just him. He likes everyone.”

Foggy gasped again. His hand grasped Matt’s jacket in absolute disbelief. “Is that Elon Musk?” he choked out. Any more of this and he was surely going to have a heart attack.

Eliza turned in the direction he was pointing. “Oh, yeah,” she said. The Tesla CEO stood in the corner with a couple she’d met once at an industrial fair Pepper took her to.

Foggy was hyperventilating at this point. “How can you act so casual?” he screeched. “That’s fucking Elon Musk, Eliza!”

“I know. I’ve helped him and Tony with the rendering of his newest model.”

“You did what? Oh, my god! I think I’m in heaven. This can’t be real. Matt, tell me, am I still breathing?”

His friend patted his hand awkwardly. “You’re fine,” Matt said. “It’s just nerves, Foggy. It’ll pass.”

Karen took the opportunity to slide in and ask, “So you’re an engineer?”

Eliza found herself under her scrutinizing gaze again, or perhaps she was just too worked up and interpreted a little too much. Sweat pooled inside her palms. “Uh, not really,” she said. “I work for Stark Industries, is all. I helped modify the algorithm for Elon, but that was before the Accords, so I don’t do that kinda stuff anymore.”

“Karen,” Matt’s low, warning tone came out again. “Eliza is Miss Pott’s second in command. She helps with the sales of Stark Tech. Her work is just as important as ours.”

She bit down on her lip. Here we go .

Karen frowned. “That’s not what I meant,” she insisted. “I was just curious. Besides, I think Eliza can speak for herself.”

The tension between the two grew by the second. Eliza didn’t know if she was truly the reason for their argument or if she was simply the catalyst for an already existing issue that they just hadn’t resolved yet.

Eliza chose to act on the line Karen tossed her. “She’s right,” she said. “I can speak for myself. Matt’s right though. That’s kinda what I do.”

“It’s a cool job,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything else you plan on doing, like going to college?”

Matt hissed. “Karen!”

“Matt,” Eliza retorted. He tilted his head in surprise at her harsh tone. “Don’t be a dick,” she said. “She’s just trying to make conversation. You act like a jealous hag and it’s honestly not sexy at all. Jesus!”

Karen pulled the loose blonde curl in her face behind her ear. “Thank you,” she smiled.

She caught a glimpse of Foggy saying, “That was not cool dude,” to Matt, but the music tuned out anything else.

The blonde kept her attention on Eliza. Curiosity sparked in the deep blue of her eyes. She’d never seen such a radiant shade before. Her eyes were framed by soft black eyelashes, which made the irises pop even more. She was drawn in by the way all of Karen’s emotions acted like wild ocean waves that came and went. Her eyes were the endless sea and she was simply swimming in it, picking up on every conflict possible.

“I’m sorry,” she said eventually. Her lip contorted and she laughed shyly, hands in front of her face. “We got off on the wrong foot. I never meant to back you into a corner. It’s just, I haven’t been friends with these two for long so I tend to get a bit overprotective sometimes.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Eliza said.

“Yeah, I figured you would. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you… how’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine, really. Thanks for asking though.”

“Yeah, no- no problem. You seem good friends with the people here.“

“What can I say, people like me.“

“They’d be stupid not to,” Matt’s voice silenced them at once. Eliza’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land.

Not even the slightest bit surprised at his words, Foggy raised his eyebrows. Wow, the words hung loose on his lips. “Hey,” he said then. “I’m gonna get us all some drinks. Karen, can you help me?”

“What? But we were just-“ she said.

“I can’t carry them on my own, Karen.” Foggy made sure to put enough pressure on her name.

She slowly realized. “Oh.”

“Will you help me or do you want me to break everything? Let’s be real, that is so gonna happen.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She wasn’t happy, nor was she satisfied. Her head hung low, the glint gone from her eyes as she looked at Eliza once again, reservation replacing whatever positive feelings she harbored about her.

Eliza crossed her arms instinctively. Karen’s gaze burned under her skin. She didn’t trust her, not even remotely. She cared about Matt, wanting the best for him. The man seemed more than a colleague to her, so it was understandable that she was suspicious of the new girl. The two barely knew each other. She was at least ten years younger than him. She couldn’t even blame Karen; she wasn’t sure how she would have reacted in her position, but she knew she wouldn’t have been happy either.

The pair disappeared into the crowd. “Where are they going?” Matt asked.

“The other bar,” Eliza told him.

“There’s two?”

“Don’t even ask.”

“Oh, can you tell I’m not used to this kind of establishment?”

“ What ?” she dragged out the word.

He began to laugh. His eyes were crinkled, his teeth white and bright. “That’s fair,” he said.

Eliza smiled back at him. She searched for his arm, pulling gently. “Uh, would you like something to drink?” she asked.

He offered his hand instead. “Yeah, good idea. Lead the way?”

She reached down. Their hands fit together like gloves. The callouses of his fingers were rough, and so were hers. The constant fighting eventually took a toll. Cracked knuckles, broken fingers; the skin was dry from all the scrubbing and disinfecting wounds.

Some nights, Tony used to ask her into his lab. She helped him bring his newest visions to life – she’d never considered herself an engineer, though ever since she joined the Avengers, she grew a lot of new talents. Working with her hands was just one of them.

Feeling Matt’s fingers gently around hers, yet the skin so rough it brought friction, eased her anxiety. She wasn’t the only one with unusually worn-down hands. She savored the feeling of his hot skin on her always cold one. Truth to be told, they both could’ve used some hand moisturizer.

Eliza placed his hands on the bar. Matt patted along the Mahagoni wood, tracing the patterns on the clean counter, mapping out his exact surroundings down to the smallest detail.

His lip twitched. “This place is fancy,” he said.

“And expensive,” she added.

“It feels expensive.” He swirled his fingers around the wood again. “Tony Stark really doesn’t have to worry about money, does he?”

“No, that’s the least of his concerns, and it shows.”

“You said it, not me.”

Benji walked over from the other side of the bar, towel casually draped over his shoulder. “Eliza,” he sang. “Another drink?”

He stopped in his cheery walk. His eyes got stuck on the man beside her. The slow fall of his features came like dominos. First, he appeared conflicted, trying to make a connection. Then, the realization hit.

“Oh, I should’ve known this was gonna happen,” he muttered under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?” Eliza said.

Matt leaned into her. “He thinks we’re a couple,” he said.

“Boyfriend, right?” Benji proved the suspicion to be true. “What d’you drink?”

“Not her boyfriend. And Macallan, neat.”

She spun around. “First of all, he’s right. We’re not a couple,” she said. “Second of all, Macallan? What’s wrong with you? Does your tongue still work?”

“My tongue’s fine,” he chuckled.

“Then why the fuck would you drink Macallan, on purpose, and neat? This just keeps getting worse and worse. I think we might need to sign the divorce papers for our non-existent marriage tonight. It’s just not gonna work out between you and me. Oh, and I’m taking the kids with me.”

“You can have them, not sure they were mine anyway.”

“ Hey !“

“I’m still ordering Macallan.”

She gagged. “You’re disgusting.”

“Macallan,” he told Benji. “Make it extra neat.”

“If anyone asks, I don’t know you.”

“Put ice in.”

Benji switched his eyes from one side to the other. “Are you sure you’re not a couple?” he asked.

The pair exchanged a look, then turned to him, both frowning like it was the last thing they’d ever do. “We’re not,” it came out of their mouths simultaneously. “I mean, we’re not-“ They stared at each other.

“Stop mimicking me,” Eliza said.

“I’m not mimicking you,” he said.

Benji sighed, “No offense, I barely know you but I sure as hell know that you two are idiots.”

“None taken,” – she lifted her finger, not because of his words but because of the glass he placed in front of Matt’s smug face – “I take offense in that !”

“I don’t care. It’s tasty. I like it.”

Benji was about to pour her another tequila. She licked her lips. “Vodka,” she challenged. “Straight.”

He pursed his lips, saying ‘alright’. The glass clinked against the wood before her. He wished them fun, distanced, and dissatisfied. Eliza wondered if they behaved that suspiciously – she liked Benji, he was a cool guy, but in the end, he wasn’t her type either way – yet she still felt a bit offended that everyone assumed the two were in a relationship. She and Matt barely knew each other, they just had a shit ton of chemistry. That was normal in the first stage of friendship – right?

Matt’s features fell. “Vodka,” he repeated her order. She could’ve sworn by the way his head tilted, that he was no longer joking.

“Yeah,” she nervously swirled the clear liquid around. “Too much for you?” she asked.

His head remained cocked to the side. “You drink alcohol?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m twenty-three, not a minor. Almost everyone drinks these days.”

Her mind was too busy to focus on the obvious reason for his sudden mood change.

Matt remembered what he read in her file vividly. He was aware of all her priors, which he had every right to as her lawyer. When he took her case, he planned for it to be just a way to make up for what he got her into, but Eliza’s story ran deeper than what was available to the public.

The very contents of the file caused him to eye the drink in her hands more closely. He smelled it on her. This wasn’t her first drink and judging by the way her heart beat fast with anxiety, this certainly wasn’t going to be her last one. Stress drinker, he noted. Or in less pretty words, alcoholic. She had the tendency, she had the means. He just couldn’t quite figure out why, after everything she’s been through, she’d still try so hard to sabotage herself.

Matt sipped his Macallan, trapped in the line of thought. He decided to lighten the mood again. This wasn’t any of his business; by attempting to control her, he’d just make it worse. He had to restrain himself from claiming her and tying her down so that nothing could happen to her because damn it, he wanted to so badly.

“Straight vodka,” he said then. “What are you, a psychopath?”

Eliza scoffed. “Not exactly,” she said. “My throat’s just numb.”

He chuckled into his glass. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Matthew Murdock, I swear to god-“

“Oh, bad girl,” he said. “Using the lord’s name in vain. That’s a sin, you know.”

“What are you gonna do, punish me?” She scoffed. “Please, I do that myself every day.”

“That just shows me you’ve never been properly punished before.”

She straight-up choked on the sharp taste. The vodka burned down her throat like acid, landing in the wrong pipe as she tried to swallow but the liquor came down the wrong way. She coughed, feeling the fire expand inside her chest. Matt instantly patted her back to divert the coughing fit. She waved around wildly, trying to ease the ache with wind, but her lungs protested. Eventually, the pain subsided.

She looked at Matt through teary eyes. He grinned, smug asshole. “You alright?” he asked.

“Fuck you,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re alright.”

“Why do you always do that?”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“This.” She was grasping for straws.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah,” – she huffed a frustrated groan – “I don’t either.”

He nudged her. “Want anything?”

She glared at the glass, warning, “Don’t even think about it.”

Matt pressed the cold drink against her lips. She flinched back. He laughed, wholeheartedly.

“Come on, try it,” he said.

“No!”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not. Get that thing away from me.”

He reached for her jaw. The pressure burned sweetly as he pulled her forward, fingers holding her face tightly so she couldn’t move. “Open,” he ordered.

“Matt,” she warned again.

The world around them seemed so loud, so clear. She was afraid someone might see her. This was quite the compromising position, though she didn’t dare move. A strange shiver went down her spine right where she could’ve needed it less.

He smirked, glasses sliding down ever so slightly. She caught sight of his brows, and the tips of his eyelashes. She stared hard, urging for more, but he had her chin tilted up in no time. Matt placed the glass against her lips. She let him. He guided one of her hands to the Macallan.

“Drink,” he said. The demand hung heavy in the air. She squeezed her thighs together, crossing them. “I’m gonna show you how good it actually tastes, you just have to trust me.”

That low voice, she thought. Wherever it came from, she cursed him for even knowing what he could do with it. She opened her mouth hesitantly, letting the liquor rest on her tongue. She refused to swallow at first, though his grip tightened and she couldn’t stand it any longer. She swallowed the bitter taste.

“And?” he asked.

Eliza licked her lips. His hand was still on her. “It was-“ she shivered at the squeaky sound, “I still hate it.”

Matt chuckled. He loosened his grip slowly. “I figured. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“You- you- UGH !” She downed the vodka in one big gulp. Mixed with the Macallan, she wanted to puke right then and there.

“What?” he smiled innocently. “Everything alright?”

“You’re a menace, Matt.”

“Eliza, am I making you nervous?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” she muttered. “And you know it’s working, so let’s not talk about it.”

Eliza realized it was plain and simple. She wanted to kiss Matthew Murdock. The light shone a beautiful light on his plump lips. All she wanted was to trail her tongue over it, bite it, claim it until he forgot his name and she forgot hers.

She didn’t kiss him. She refused to give in to temptation. This was what he wanted. Kissing him would’ve made her only another notch in his bedpost. He flirted like it was the only thing keeping him alive; he had a revolving door, somehow she just knew that. And she didn’t want to be put in this position with all the other women he did or did not sleep with. Although it was very tempting and required a lot of self-control not to give in. Matt knew how to rile her up, that was for sure.

He penetrated the comfortable silence between them. “You still wanna get divorced?” he asked.

Eliza choked on her drink. The bubbly laughter came naturally at this point. He joined in, gently patting her back to help her breathe again.

She wiped the access vodka off her lips, saying, “I have to consult my lawyer first.”

“Oh, really? Is he any good?”

“Yeah, he’s a really good lawyer. You should meet him sometime.”

“If that’s so, maybe you should give me his number. You know, for research purposes.”

Eliza laughed again. “You’re fucking hilarious,” she said, laughter turning into giggles. “Oh, god! I think I haven’t laughed that much in years .”

“You have a nice laugh,” he murmured.

She left the question hanging in the air. Insecurity was her partner in crime. It was the only feeling that never left her, always sticking around. She never cared much about it until now. Matt broke through the walls she built up and made her do the things her insecurities used to prevent her from doing.

“And you’re quite the charmer.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Lucky for you, I like it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

He could tell by the smirk in her voice that she was going into full offense.

“I’m a flirt, sure, but I’m not the kind of person you take me for,” he said. “The innocent blind man I pretend to be, that’s just not me. Not really. It’s… there are things you don’t know about me, Eliza. And I’m afraid-“ he cleared the lump from his throat, nervously swallowing the Macallan as if it was going to make this any easier. It didn’t.

“What?” she asked, her voice soft. She placed a hand on his arm, the muscles tense underneath her touch. “What is it, Matt?”

“I’m afraid that’s something that won’t make this work.”

The words swirled around her head. “What?”

“I don’t know what this is, you and me, but I know that I don’t deserve you.”

“Matt, where is this coming from?”

He emptied the glass in one gulp. “I should go find Foggy and Karen.”

Like the snap of two fingers, the switch was flicked. The light around him turned dark. His features contorted, hand tight around his cane. The skin around his knuckles turned white. His feet turned away. Just like that, he distanced himself. He flew into space, bringing more than two worlds between them. Physically, they were mere inches apart, but he drilled a mental gap between whatever it was they shared before. The hole was steep, deep – she couldn’t cross to the other side without falling to her imminent death. Going after him would ruin her, she realized. She hadn’t seen it before, but she did now. She saw Matt Murdock in an entirely different light. He wasn’t the man she took him to be.

He drove them wide apart, the water to her lungs, clouding her senses. Without reasoning, without a word of explanation.

“Matt,” she said his name again. “Matt!”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he shrugged her off.

“You can’t just do this and expect me to be okay with it. What happened in the last few seconds? Did I do something, or miss something? I-“

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

The classic. She scoffed. All the bullshit he could’ve given her and he went with the least believable.

“Can we talk about it?” she asked.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Uh, your mood swings, for example? You can’t just push me away when we’re trying to get to know each other. That might work with the women you fuck, but not with me.”

Eliza wasn’t usually one to be persistent. She kept her distance, refusing to let anyone get close. She didn’t have to force people to stay in her life because they weren’t there in the first place. Matt had drawn her in, without warning, and he was willing to throw it all away in the matter of what? Seconds? She never thought much of herself, but she refused to let him ruin this. She liked what they had, a little light at the end of this endless tunnel. If he had issues, she wanted to know. She deserved that much.

“You have to trust me,” he was so close again, his alcohol-stained breath hot on her cheeks. “You’re… You’re too good for this world, Eliza. I thought I could ignore the fact that I’m not the man you deserve and need, but spending time with you has shown me that you’re better than anyone on this godforsaken earth and I can’t- I can’t drag you down with me. I just can’t.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “What kind of bullshit excuse is this? If you don’t like me, just say so!”

“I do, I like you, which is exactly what I was afraid of.”

“Oh, so you just wanted me to be your toy then?”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you pushing me away, Matt?”

His lip twitched, hand on her arm, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. “God,” he grunted. “Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”

“Why do you have to be so fucking mysterious?”

“I-“ he sighed. She saw wild emotions flash across his face.

Matt was done for. His attempts to pull himself out of this failed miserably. He was pathetic, playing the hero, acting like he knew what was good for her. He knew who she was; he didn’t want Matt Murdock to ruin her, he just wanted her to get the life she deserved.

Daredevil could help her out and then disappear, and become history. Matt figured he had to distance himself before he put himself in a position where the truth would tear her entire world apart. She thought too highly of him. The thought of causing her any kind of pain hurt him more than any knife ever could.

But he was done for, hook line, and sinker. There wasn’t much he could do but bare it.

“The heart is hard to translate, Matt,” she said. “It has a language of its own. Help me understand, please .”

“I-“ he groaned quietly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” The sentence, though made out of only six words, carried so much vulnerability in the way he executed it.

“You don’t have to,” Eliza told him.

Boldly, her hand mapped out the fabric of his suit all the way to the bow around his neck. She let her fingers run along the skin underneath, the stubble on his cheek. He flinched at the softness of her touch.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Please.”

The word meant so much more than its definition. He said it because please, just, please. The only coherent thought on his mind. The pathetic whine of the word ‘please’. What happened to him? What got him this way? He wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking at all.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” she whispered into his ear, hand now on his neck, just ghosting over his pulse point.

Matt let out a heavy breath through his already parted lips. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said.

“I think I might have an idea.”

Eliza pulled his face closer, her lips searching desperately for their way home. She wanted to park them where they belonged – the most anticipated place in the entire universe, it seemed. A desired little house in the middle of a whirlwind. He was the gift that just kept on giving.

Matt tasted her. The tiny distance between them clouded his senses. He was scared of what it would be like if she became a part of him and if it would suffocate him, the feeling of her so overwhelming he felt every single one of his senses absolutely overstimulated.

As fast as she’d pulled him in, her warmth disappeared. His face fell forward into nothingness, lingering just above the crook of her neck. He listened; her heart momentarily stopped, then jumped a heavy beat. Adrenaline cursed through her veins, fueled by fear and anger. He inhaled the scent radiating off her skin. What had smelled like desire disappeared into solely the taste of her perfume.

He opened his mouth to ask why she pulled away, pathetically searching for words in his fogged-up brain.

“Is this thing on?” Reality came back to him in Tony Stark’s infamous voice over the big speakers in the room. There was a hint of bitterness in there, trying hard not to slur his words as he spoke.

“Good evening lovely guests. You all know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Tony Stark. I own this fucking place. If you have any complaints, keep them to yourselves. Ungrateful bastards.”

Murmurs went through the crowd. Eliza pinched her nose.

“Unlike popular beliefs, I’m happy that you’re here today,” Tony said. “Makes telling you the truth so much easier. You know, I did write a speech. Or Pepper did. Anyway, I’m not gonna say any of it. A bunch of bullshit on paper doesn’t even cut close to what I want to say. Besides, I don’t believe in scripts. You’re here because of the Accords, right, to make my public reputation better? Well, if you really thought that’s what’s gonna happen, I’m so sorry to disappoint you. I’m talking to you, Ross. Over there, hi!” He waved towards the right corner of the room where the man in question stood crammed between people, champagne in hand. He stiffened entirely as his name left Tony’s mouth, all the attention suddenly on his presence rather than the stage.

“Oh, god!” Eliza swallowed.

“I just gotta tell ya, I don’t regret a thing I did. Not a single thing. In fact, I would do it all again if I could. People are dead, you know. We’re murderers. Some of us have body counts higher than a college kid on crack. They thrived off it once. I called them out, you know. I wanted to change the world and if that meant giving up some of our control, I was willing to do whatever to keep us together as a team. We did good, but we did a shit-ton of bad. Heroes aren’t supposed to cause chaos and death. Apparently, Steve Rogers didn’t share the same thought. The people I made into something turned their backs on me just because I introduced a solution to a bigger problem. Unbelievable, right? You give and you give and you give and no one gives you a single piece of fucking gratitude back. Honestly, Ross, it would’ve been kinder if you’d just killed us all. I don’t care. I made the Avengers, they blew it and now I have to suffer the consequences. It’s just not fair.”

The knife drilled deeper into her chest.

“Everyone keeps telling me what to do,” he carried on. “You have to do this, say that, act this way. I realize now that I don’t have to do anything. I’m done. So fucking over it, you can’t believe it. Rogers screwed up, that’s not my fault. He wouldn’t listen. Now I have a kid giving me orders. What did you think would happen? You know, I’m not the orphanage for lost children, let alone those who want to tell me how to do my job.”

The thread snapped. Their connection was swept away into oblivion, drowned by the deep dark sea. Eliza took Matt’s glass, emptied it, and smashed it back down on the counter so hard, that shards went flying everywhere. She ignored the mess she made, knowing all eyes were on her, knowing she was the center of attention, the lost orphan telling Tony how to do his job.

Tony laughed. “I was foolish to think the Avengers were actually going anywhere. It was my mistake to agree on it. I should’ve known. God, I should’ve seen this coming. And to think you’re here now, the stupid ass idiots that you are, and expect me to be a good person? I’m pretty sure you claimed me the villain just a couple months ago. You want the publicity, crave it, want me to embarrass myself. Yeah, I see through you. Ellison over there from the Bulletin,” he said. “Fucking Fox News. You want to paint me the villain, the rich bastard with an ego higher than the Empire State? Fine, so be it! I’m not gonna let anyone tell me what to do anymore. I’m done. Throw me in jail for all I care. This whole place won’t run without me anyway.”

Rhodey appeared on the stage. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders. Eliza was there, on the side. Her eyes glowed red. She reacted without thinking. The flames wrapped around his chest. The words stopped flowing. He stopped fighting. Rhodey apologized profusely to the crowd, carrying the man away. Happy came, too, and he tried to get Tony out of the room.

Eliza met his eyes. “Are you happy now?” she asked.

“Drop it,” Rhodey told her. “You can kick his ass later. Right now, there are people out there that need some explaining and a big fat apology.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Her chest felt constricted.

“Go out there, make a speech.”

“Rhodey, I can’t !”

“Yes, you can.”

It wasn’t a question, not an offer – he needed her to do this. She had no other choice. She was the only Avenger left that people would listen to. The spotlight loved her, they loved dramatic stories and they loved pain. These were people, many people, and they were waiting, watching, curious and judgmental. They made up their minds already. The same people who scrutinized her talked about her behind her back. Her hands were shaking, sweaty. Her heart beat up to her throat. The balloon in her chest deflated.

“You have to,” a voice said in her head. “There’s no other way.”

The spotlight burned in her eyes. She squeezed through it, the crowd seemingly millions of people on top of each other. They stared at her, waiting, anticipating. They were expecting her to talk. Secretary Ross in the corner had his eyes trained strictly on her, confused yet curious about how they were going to fix this. He’d always seen her as a child, not old enough to take responsibility or be a hero. Eliza hated the spotlight, hated being the center of attention.

She took the microphone with shaky hands. “Wow,” her voice reached over the speaker. “That was a lot. And offensive. Honestly, if there was an award for the biggest idiot, Tony would win in a landslide.”

The crowd laughed hesitantly.

“Needless to say this wasn’t planned. It was rude and he had no right to speak to you that way,” she said. “I’d like to apologize on behalf of all of us. I can’t tell you he didn’t mean it, he probably did. He’s drunk and he does stupid shit when he’s drunk, that’s just Tony. Still doesn’t give him the right to treat his guests like that, especially not after everything that happened. I have no clue what he was supposed to say, so I’m just gonna freestyle. Be warned, I don’t usually give speeches – I struggle to find words. I’m the lost orphan, after all.”

They didn’t know if they could laugh, but she saw their lips twitch, a little less tension filling the room.

“It’s okay, you can laugh,” she urged. The crowd did. “It’s funny. Tony said I give him orders. Considering what he just did, I kinda wish I actually could. He’s mad, I don’t know why. We invited you here today to show that we’re still strong, right? That we’re sorry for what happened. We wanted the press to know all that. I’m not sure if you’d believe me if I tell you that now, so I’m just gonna walk you through a hypothetical real quick.”

Eliza absentmindedly placed the mic stand aside. The cord fell at her feet, she balled it into her fist, preventing the possibility of an embarrassing fall.

“Imagine you’re a kid,” she began. “You’re being tossed into this big world, alone. Your parents are gone. The life you thought you knew disappears right before your eyes. You’re staring into the face of someone you don’t know, and it’s a mirror, right? You’re staring at yourself, the person you’re supposed to know, but as you see yourself you realize, you don’t even remember how you got there in the first place.

“One second you’re somewhere else, someone else, and the next you’re being taken away by strangers. You’re told that you are this person now, with this history and that name. You’re a teenager at this point. You’ve never been to school, never been in love, you’ve never seen the world. But one day, you’re just supposed to be. Those people train you, and give you something to do. They raise you. You finally get to see New York City. Great, isn’t it? Empire State Of Mind.”

She earned a couple more laughs.

“In the next move though, the city you used to know is being attacked,” she said. The crowd gasped at the horrible memory of the year 2012 that instantly came to mind. “You’re a kid, right? You don’t know what to do, you just have to function. They trained you for this, this is your purpose. You’re supposed to be a hero. All while you’re just there, running along with it because you still don’t know who you are. Think about it. Who you are and who you’re supposed to be aren’t the same person. And you’re so scared because the sky is opening up and people are dying – you know you have to do something, but you don’t know how. Until you meet this group of six people. They’re supposed to work together the same way you’re just supposed to exist, and they’re not happy about it, so for once in your life, you feel less alone. They have your back, they integrate you. With them, you have the strength and the will to save the world. It’s not just you who’s scared anymore, those six are too and that fear is what makes you stronger. You realize at that moment that you’re that person. You’re right where you want to be. You’re supposed to be a hero, you accept that because you know damn well it’s true.”

Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She met the eyes of T’Challa. He smiled softly at her. Next to her, the picture opened up.

“You’re me,” Eliza said. “Those six people are the Avengers and I’m part of that. Or I used to be, anyway. They were my family. SHIELD brought me up, but the Avengers raised me.”

She saw Natasha, the redhead with stars in her eyes. Steve, the man that was tossed into the world the same way she had. Bruce, Thor, Sam, Wanda, Rhodey…

“We made mistakes, I admit that. We wanted to do good but ended up hurting people instead. We did so much damage, too much to count. It was only a matter of time before something like the Accords would happen. This hasn’t been easy on any of us. In the end, we’re all only human. We have feelings. Everyone has their opinion and different reasons for their opinion. You don’t really know what someone’s thinking without talking to them first. There’s an explanation for everything. I learned that. It’s true. We don’t know what drove the others to their decision. We may never know. That’s why I think it’s bad to villainize. They messed up badly, I agree, and I believe feeling the law isn’t the right thing to do. Still, we can’t understand something unless we have all the facts. I don’t agree with what Captain Rogers did, but he was my family. I lost many friends that day. I know the Accords were necessary, I signed them. I still believe they exist for a reason. We needed control because we became reckless over time. It’s better than countless deaths in the name of doing something good,” she said. “I know better than anyone that recovery takes time. Tony needs time. You don’t forget the loss of family that easily and it’s even harder to stomach it when you’re being blamed for everything.”

Fury was on the other side of the room, Maria next to him. Peter on the right, and Bucky too. Vision was floating somewhere in the air. They all wore black as if they were at a funeral. And so Eliza realized, they were. She was the very person about to lay the Avengers to rest, for good. There was no other choice. The truth hit her so hard, that her stomach twisted painfully.

“The Avengers are gone, but our legacy will live on.”

It wasn’t fair. Tony didn’t deserve it. She tasted her heart on her tongue, blood dripping from her teeth. The light was bright, too bright. The air was too thin, her clothes too tight.

“I’m sorry,” she broke off. The technician took the microphone from her as she fled the stage.

Rhodey was there, waiting for her. His hands reached for her shoulders, a burning trail. “You did good,” he said, or she thought he said it. She saw his lips move but the sound never reached her ears.

There was water everywhere. She was drowning, lungs filled with liquid instead of air. The voices around sounded like the echo of drums. Boom, boom, boom – the sound settled deep into her brain.

Eliza flinched away at his touch. It burned, it burned so badly. “Don’t touch me,” she choked out.

“Kid, where you going?”

She didn’t know. She simply bolted for the door in hopes to catch some oxygen. The people shouted for her. She didn’t slow her steps until she was inside the bathroom.

She barely felt the water on her hands. It ran in cold droplets through the tap. The person staring back in the mirror was a stranger. Wild eyes, sweaty forehead, cheeks as pale as death. She slapped the water against her skin, but the fire only burned more.

The golden suit jacket weighed at least a hundred pounds. The silk scratched at her skin like rough asphalt. She shrugged it off, in desperate need of any kind of freedom. The walls of the room seemed to crumble in. With every second, they inched in closer. With each heartbeat, the oxygen escaped her lungs in a hurry, leaving nothing behind but dry emptiness that burned deep crescents into her chest. The tissue of her lungs swayed over the scolding flames of a life in shambles. It singed away the flesh, setting whatever air was left on fire in a desperate chemical reaction.

She slid down the wall. The water was up to her head by then. She could barely see through the fog that cornered her vision. Her hands clawed at the skin around her throat, the black tank top, and the tiles that felt like nothing behind her. She couldn’t feel anything solid – the world felt like a void; the more she clawed, the further she fell. The ceiling lowered down on top of her. The box closed in. She curled up, head between her thighs, scared of the world, scared of her mind. The darkness had it out for her, hungry to feed off her corpse, to kill her slowly and intimately by suffocating her, drowning her in the ocean of her very own fallen dreams.

Someone knocked on the door. She heard herself croak out, “No.” Not now. Her voice got caught in a breathless sob. She choked on it.

The door opened anyway. Someone said something and she was sure she recognized the voice, but her mind was barely present and she didn’t dare open her eyes. The world was too close now, squeezing her tighter and tighter and tighter. She needed to get out, needed to escape. By grabbing her limbs, curling in on herself, she hoped to push the world away and preserve herself like cryofreeze. The darkness in her mind was calmer than whatever was happening around her. If she were to die, she wouldn’t want to stare into the void as it sucked the life out of her for good. At least that’s what it felt like – the world trying to drain whatever she thought she had left to give. She was defenseless.

Her helplessness attracted the creatures of the night, the soul-eaters, the monsters who set out to ruin her. They all had her face. Every demon carried her distinctive features. They ate away at her, grinning, as she was forced to watch. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but even then the walls crashed down on her. The water swallowed her entirely.

The dark, dangerous ocean had her trapped. The sirens called out on the sturdy sandbanks for her to reach their beautiful hands. She couldn’t see them but she could hear them, loud and clear through the rustling of the waves. She was underwater, floating, but the hands were closer than ever. The sirens threw a lifeline; she reached for it.

She reached for the hand, or the hand reached for her, she wasn’t so sure anymore. The sudden physical contact sent her spiraling. The hands clawed at her not just once; they were everywhere, her mouth open, the water filling her lungs, flooding the desert.

“Don’t touch me!” she said. Her own voice sounded distant.

The hands were gone again, quickly, faster than they’d touched her. She tried to breathe, the hold was gone, but she couldn’t focus. She wanted to, wanted to swim to the top, but the water kept pushing her down. She opened her eyes. While the light was shrill, it was better than the endless Dead Sea behind her eyelids. The walls kept caving in, though, through the fog, she could make out the silhouette of a creature before her. It wasn’t one of her demons, no.

The voice, the face, the beautiful siren – her lifeline sat before her, trying hard to comply with her wish not to touch her. He wanted to claw at her, shake her out of it, but he couldn’t. His eyes were a red swirl into the depths of hell. Her breath hitched if that was even possible, and she inched further back into the tiles.

“Hey,” he said. The red spiral disappeared. “It’s me, it’s me.” He reassured her once, twice, even a third time.

She saw his eyes through the blur. They seemed so much more human now. Soft, guiding, a safe haven. If she swam fast enough, she could make it to shore and he’d hold her, breathing life back into her. She just had to make it out of the water, out of the restraints dragging her further to the bottom of the sea.

“Sweetheart, I need you to focus. Focus on your breathing.”

Her head screamed, no! Her mouth opened, squealing it. ‘I can’t.’ She was screaming for help, internally, words betraying her in the real world.

“Yes, you can. C’mon! Look at me. Right here.” His finger moved. She followed the faint movement until she settled on his face. Tears bubbled out of her eyes like a loose tap.

“That’s it,” he said. “I’m right here. Focus on me. Tell me– hey, keep your eyes on me!” He instantly reached for her head when it threatened to slack. The darkness lulled her in. “You can do this. Just focus on me. Just like that, there you go. I’m gonna keep my hand there just in case. It’s just me, I promise. I won’t hurt you.”

She believed his sweet voice. She had no other choice.

“Tell me, five things - five things you can see.”

She remembered that. Something familiar. She swallowed, pointing out his face. “You,” she choked out. Her voice sounded so foreign, so far away.

“Me,” he said, he was smiling. “Good. What else? Four more things. I’ll count with you.”

She darted her head around. “Sink,” was that even a word?

“Okay, the sink. That’s two.”

“You-“

“You already said that, sweetheart. Focus. What do you see? I need three more things. Wanna help you, alright? Three things.”

She saw the hint of red next to her head. “Glasses,” she said.

“Alright, my glasses.”

“D-door.”

“Hmm, the door.”

“And lights. So many lights.”

Eliza broke into a sob. It was the first thing close to breathing since she stormed into the bathroom. She lowered her head. His hand tilted her cheek back up.

“We’re not done yet,” he said.

She knew him, she recognized him, the name laid on her tongue, and yet she couldn’t call out for him. She merely clasped her hand around his forearm, afraid he might leave.

“Four things you can feel. What can you feel, tell me.”

Her fingers traced over his wrist. “Your pulse,” she said. Her hand trembled. “Y-your breath. The floor,” – she felt it, she knew it was there – “My heart.” And how it was beating so fast, so loud.

“What can you hear?”

“Your voice. Music, I- I think.”

“There’s music,” he assured her, thumb stroking over her skin. “One more, sweetheart.”

She inhaled sharply. “Myself.” The walls slowly backed off. Scared for life, they retreated to where they came from.

As the fog slowly cleared, she anticipated what he was going to say next. “Two things you can smell,” she was right. “You’re doing good, sweetheart,” he said. He never missed a beat with his praise.

Eliza actively smelled the air. She smelled it, she felt it. Her lungs throbbed with the harsh attack. Air filled the empty space. The oxygen burned sweetly.

“Alcohol,” she smelled. “Flowers.”

“And what can you taste?”

Too aware of the tears that flooded down her cheeks freely, she licked her lips. “Salt.”

Relief washed over her. The ocean dried out. Her lungs filled with oxygen. The black dots vanished from her vision. She was still light-headed but the world finally stopped spinning. Matt knelt before her, brown eyes fixated on the wall next to her head. The worry kept his brows furrowed.

She saw him, truly saw him as if it was the first time and everything just came back at once. The dominos began to roll. More tears pricked her eyes. Her mouth opened in incoherent sounds – hiccups, sobs, pleas. She clutched so tightly onto him, that the suit crinkled between her fingers. She became a part of him, and wanted him to swallow her whole so she would never have to leave again. She needed him closer, melting into her like candle wax.

He whispered soft things into her ear. “I got you,” he said. “I got you. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Funny how he was the only person there for her when she needed it the most.

“Let me get you a glass of water.”

Eliza protested when he let go of her. She wrapped her arms around his thigh. “Don’t leave me,” she pathetically cried.

Matt was quick to assure her. With the glass in hand, he settled back down before her. “Hey, it’s okay,” he wiped her tears. “I’m not leaving you. I’m still here. See?” He took her hand while the other guided the drink to her lips.

She was suddenly so incredibly thirsty. In a matter of seconds, she had emptied the water. He went back to the sink to fill her another one, which she drank just as fast.

“Good girl.”

Without another word, he began to gently clean her face of the smeared makeup. She didn’t question how he did it, she simply enjoyed his hands working her skin gently. It grounded her, knowing she wasn’t alone, knowing he wasn’t pressuring her to talk or do anything else. It was just them in the silence of the bathroom. When he thought he got the worst of it, Matt tossed the paper towels into the trash.

Her muscles slacked. Eliza felt her entire body collapse in itself. She rolled to the side, to the floor. He followed her movement worriedly, hand under her face, cradling her. He shielded her from the hard tiles, her personal lifeguard.

“I’m so tired,” she said. A lonely tear slipped past her lips. “I’m tired of being tired.”

Matt smiled. He lifted her head a little, allowing himself to sit back against the wall. Her cheek landed on the soft fabric of his slacks. He kept stroking her face, her hair, everything he could reach until her heartbeat slowed down. His fingers worked wonders to ease the tension; he had a magic touch that brought her the comfort she needed so desperately.

“He ruined everything. I only ever needed my family and he just… his pride-“ she cried into his pants.

“I know,” he said. “You don’t deserve that. The way he spoke about you… he had no right to say that. He’s so very wrong about so many things, Eliza. I doubt he knows about the damage he’s doing. He considers it self-preservation without even thinking about how this might make you feel.”

“I’m used to this, Matt. Or I should be. This isn’t the first time. I’ve been disappointed before. Every time things get hard, he does something like this. I thought- I thought I was better at this. I thought it couldn’t hurt me anymore but I still care so fucking much. I still want him to see me. He keeps hurting me over and over again and I let it happen. I make the same mistake every damn time. How can I be so fucking stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. You just need someone to take care of you. You’re afraid he’ll leave you for good if you don’t try to keep him around-”

“Everyone else did.”

“Eliza-“

“You wanted to leave me too. Everybody does. I should be used to it. I should know better. There’s a reason this happens time and time again, but I won’t learn. I’m so foolish, God!” Despite her words, she dug her nails further into his thigh. He held on tighter, too.

“I was wrong,” Matt said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was just scared. After what happened, I-“

“I need you,” the statement was barely audible.

His hand stilled. “Need me?”

“I don’t know why or how but I need you, Matt. Everything hurts. My heart burns. I can’t-“

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just hold me, please. Help me not to break apart. I don’t know. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fight, I can’t breathe, I… I need you to hold me and tell me everything’s gonna be fine because I’m so tired.” She broke off into a breathy sob. “I’m so fucking tired, Matt. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t.”

“It’s okay. Just keep breathing. I got you.”

She nodded against his thigh, tears staining his slacks darker. “Thank you,” the words came between shakes.

He shifted to get out of his suit jacket. Eliza shivered as it went around her bare shoulders. It smelled like him. “Put this on,” he nudged gently. “Lift your arms for me.”

Her limbs were heavy. She strained. The cotton almost swallowed her whole.

“There you go. Better?”

She nodded.

“Good. Take what you need. I’m here.”

She hugged his jacket tighter. They became one.

The silence slowly became deafening. It was comfortable at first, but the more she listened to his heart, the more her thoughts began to spiral.

“Would you’ve kissed me?” she asked.

Matt tilted his head. “What?”

“Would you’ve kissed me? If I’d initiated it, I mean. Or would you’ve left, like you were planning to?”

He paused. His breath hitched. The legs underneath her shifted slightly. Eliza lifted her head. She slowly got back up, every muscle aching, but she wanted to look at him. She wanted to look into his eyes as she anticipated the answer.

He shuddered at the loss of her warmth. The smell of her mixed with his now further away. “Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah, what? You would’ve kissed me or you would’ve left?”

“You’re not gonna like my answer.”

“So, the latter.” The first crack ran through her heart.

“No, both.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that if I’d kissed you, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. You don’t deserve to be treated like a toy that’s just being passed around.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to do that,” she said.

“That’s the thing. I would never do that to you, Eliza. Never. You're not an object and you’re not a toy. From what I can tell, you’re capable of taking care of yourself. I’m gonna leave the fragility thing for you to judge. I mean, I can’t see you.”

Eliza’s mouth opened in surprise. “Did you just make a joke?”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, that was a bad one. Sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she chuckled. “It’s just that people don’t usually joke about my problems other than myself.”

“We both have issues,” he stated. “Would be weird if we didn’t laugh about it. Why else would God have made us this way?”

“Ah, here comes the catholic. Good one.”

“Joking about trauma makes the magnitude of pain easier to bare.”

She placed her forehead on his shoulder. His scent filled her nose, filled her mind to the top. He tilted his head to the side, cheek running over her hair. His nose was buried so deep, that he felt and smelled every last bit of her.

“Thank you,” she said, muffled through the fabric of his dress shirt.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She barely felt it, only the ghost of his breath and slight wetness reminded her of this small gesture. Her heart skipped a beat. She was incapable of controlling it, her body just reacted. Her nose lifted to muzzle into his cheek. He exhaled, shaking, eyelids fluttered close.

“What if I were to kiss you right now?” she asked, barely breathing the words. She felt desperate, empty, and alone – he was the only one that could fill her needs one by one. He was the comfort she sought.

He chuckled breathlessly against her. “You won’t,” he said.

“I might.”

“You won’t. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sad and confused. You crave touch more than anything right now. Your brain is probably foggy. You’re not lucid enough to make conscious decisions and doing anything other than hug you would be me taking advantage of you and I wouldn’t be able to live myself.”

Instead, she pressed her lips against the stubble around his jaw. “I like you,” she whispered into him then.

He placed one hand against her throat, foreheads touching once again. He kept it there, holding her flush against him. His hand didn’t apply pressure, he just stroked along her pulse point, grounding them both.

“I like you too,” he whispered back.

She sighed. “I should go home. Happy’s probably looking for me and I really can’t talk to Tony right now.”

“Let me take you.”

“No, I’m fine on my own.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I want to. Please. I just need to get out of here, clear my head.”

She distanced herself. Matt followed her face with his unseeing eyes, making sure she wasn’t lying as she spoke. Once he was positive she was telling the truth, simply uttering her wishes, he nodded, still hesitantly.

“Can you hand me my glasses?” he asked.

Eliza reached for them, slipping them back on his face. “I like your eyes,” she said. “But I understand why you wear them.”

“People stare,” he said.

“I know. You have nothing to be ashamed of though.”

“Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it.”

She stood up on wobbly legs, grabbing her heels from the corner she tossed them in. Her suit jacket came close behind. She slapped the dirt off.

“Here,” she attempted to slip out of Matt’s piece of clothing.

He lifted his hand, halting her movements. “Keep it,” he said. “It’s cold outside.”

“That is so cliché,” she said.

“Just worried about you.”

“I know and I appreciate that, but I can’t take your jacket. You’re gonna freeze.”

“I’m a big boy, cold doesn’t bother me.”

“What are you, Elsa?”

“If that makes me a Disney princess, sure.”

She snorted. “Can’t talk you out of this one, huh?” She played with the fabric of his suit absentmindedly. It was soft, freshly washed, and ironed. His scent was all over the fabric, mixed with whatever natural laundry detergent he used.

Matt shook his head. “No. You’re stuck with it now.”

“Okay then. I promise to bring it back to you tomorrow.”

“No rush. I have several suits in my closet.”

“Here I was, thinking you were gonna say bodies.”

He laughed, going in for a hug. She took his offer gladly. He was calm and comfortable in her presence. She held onto him tighter, hoping to keep him inside for just a little longer.

“Call a cab,” he said. “Text me when you get home. I need to know you’re alright. If anything happens, call me.”

“I’m gonna be fine,” she assured him.

“I know, just wanna make sure.”

She smiled. “Go back to the party. Have fun. And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”

“My mouth’s closed.”

“Thank you.”

Eliza touched the door handle. “One more thing,” she said and turned around to face him. “You’re a good person, Matt.”

He leaned back for a moment, surprised at the sudden confession. His cane stood pressed to his chest as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. “How do you know?” he asked.

“I just do.” She opened the door. “Have a good night, Matthew.”

“You too, Eliza,” he smiled. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

She hailed herself a cab home. The driver didn’t say anything. He didn’t comment on the smudged makeup or the suit jacket she buried herself in. Even as she silently cried in the backseat, trying her hardest to keep from sobbing, he didn’t speak. Once or twice he glanced back, worried, but his eyes returned to the road in an instant.

Her apartment was dead silent. The loneliness engulfed her in a tight hug. In the back of her head, she knew Daredevil was about to come around sometime that night. It was only eleven then.

Eliza lay down on her sofa. She didn’t even bother to turn the lights on. She hugged Matt’s suit jacket tightly around herself, letting the warmth relax her muscles. She was oh so tired. The night seemed less frightening to him.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, the tiredness taking over. Tony’s words, the speech, the eyes of the people in the crowd, and the pictures of her lost friends haunted her. She felt guilty, dragging Matt into her mess. He’d felt the need to take care of her like he had no other choice but to act. Everyone did.

He was probably still worried, not quite able to understand what happened. She should’ve never allowed him to take care of her, but deep down she knew damn well that he was the only one who cared to help. She needed someone, anyone; it just turned out to be him at that moment.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept. In hindsight, it must’ve been half an hour or two until it happened. A cold breeze reached through the window. Eliza opened her eyes. She was sure she’d closed the window before she even left the apartment, and it was still closed when she lay down. The floor tiles creaked. The sound wouldn’t have been audible to the untrained ear, but she heard it, loud and clear. This wasn’t paranoia or a bad dream. She was wide awake and aware that someone was in her apartment. Not only did the sounds give it away but the energy of another soul in the room hammered hard against her own.

She caught a glimpse of an empty wine bottle next to the sofa. Her gun was in the kitchen, it was too much of a stretch. Carefully, she reached for the glass. The tiles creaked louder. A whiff of cologne filled her nose. He came closer.

Eliza rolled off the leather, quick on her feet, pointing the makeshift weapon into the darkness. The silhouette halted. She barely saw him, the moonlight blocked by her own figure.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Are you using a wine bottle as a weapon?” he asked in return. The voice sounded familiar, but the adrenaline made it hard to pinpoint.

“The question is, why aren’t you using a wine bottle as a weapon?”

“What are you gonna do, Angel, stab me with it?”

She lowered the weapon. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I’m not,” the words were barely out before his stance shifted and he fell face-first to the floor.

Eliza jumped in the air. “Jesus Christ!” She fumbled for the light switch.

Daredevil lay in her entrance hall. She should’ve put two and two together right then, but Eliza wouldn’t have been Eliza if she saw through the easiest of riddles without making it complicated first. His outfit was different. He wore a dress shirt with matching black slacks. Instead of his mask, he wore something that seemed like a scarf wrapped around the upper part of his head. Blood soaked through the white at the back. Beneath him, even more, blood came pooling out.

She methodically checked if he was alright to move. He protested, the pain of being shoved onto his back far too great to stay unconscious. His lips parted.

“Fuck!” Eliza cried out.

The white shirt was shredded, with deep cuts torn through at least five places. She couldn’t possibly tell in how many places the fabric was cut through. The blood was everywhere. It seeped through the white like a sponge. The dark red traveled all over his torso. In the shredded parts on the shirt, the blood came spurting like straight out of a geyser. The cuts went deep, deep into his skin, further than they should've been, drawing everything his heart had left out of him.

She placed two fingers against his throat. His pulse was weak. The thudding was faint. His heart seemed to be weak from pumping all the blood while losing it to the many incisions littered all over his flesh. Looking further, a thick trail ran down his face from underneath the mask. Blood colored his cheeks red. Some droplets made their way back into his body by passing his lips. He licked it away weakly.

“What the fuck happened?” she asked.

He frowned at the unusually high sound of her voice. “Got into a fight,” he said.

“This wasn’t a fight! You were straight-up impaled. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m gonna be fine. I just…”

“You should be in the hospital right now. I’m calling an ambulance.”

He grabbed her wrist harshly. “No! No hospitals,” he panted. “I need you- I need you to do it.”

Eliza bit her lip. The voice, the outfit – the blood was distracting, sure, but her mind kept reeling about the face behind the mask. The small voice that kept saying ‘it’s not possible’ turned from loud screams into nothing but a quiet, unsure affirmation. She’d always been exceptionally good at lying to herself, but this denial was a new high, even for her. The truth lay right before her eyes, yet she didn’t want to believe it. She tried listening to the small voice instead of the big one throwing names at her. Emphasis on tried.

She sat back on her heels, heart heavy in her chest. The thoughts incapacitated her, paralyzing her. She forgot to breathe.

“What’s wrong?” he choked out.

She didn’t move.

“Angel?”

“Take your mask off,” she said.

“What?”

“Take your mask off. I need to see your face.”

He shook his head weakly. “No.”

“I need to,“ - she shuddered -“I need to know. I need you to show me I’m wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I may be young, but I’m not stupid. Take it off !”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Say it.”

He only sighed.

Eliza, exasperated, took matters into her own hands. She reached for his head.

“Don’t,” he struggled.

“No, I refuse to be lied to,” she said and slapped his weak hands away. “This is on you.” She pulled the mask off.

He really believed she was stupid enough to never figure it out. Even worse was that if he hadn’t shown up the way he did, she probably wouldn’t have, and it completely destroyed her. Her eyes watered. The truth hurt more than she anticipated. It drilled into her bones and settled in like a bad disease.

Brown eyes stared upwards. He knew what he’d done, she saw it in the depths of his irises, the doors to his soul. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Eliza squeezed the tears away. She wasn’t going to do this, she wasn’t going to show him how much this hurt her. She thought her world had crumbled once, that it wasn’t possible to ruin her anymore, but she’d been wrong. This hurt, bad. The realization that he really lied to her, all this time, leading two lives and playing with her - it was all too much.

“Save it, Matthew,” she said.

“Eliza-“

“No! Whatever pathetic excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it.”

She opened his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t die,” she said. “And then you’re gonna tell me the truth because I’m done being disappointed by the people I care about.”

“Please." He reached for her hand. “I never meant to lie to you.”

She glared at him. Could he see it? Matt was supposed to be blind. He wasn’t supposed to go out at night and beat up criminals. Her thoughts drove in circles. How could she have been so naïve and not realized it sooner? She should've felt it. She should've known he was one and the same person. Both men turned her world upside-down. She didn't want to believe it, perhaps she tricker herself for the very same reason she used to refuse to see the faults in her family - she didn't want to be disappointed or lose them or even both. She didn't want to be hurt again. Her heart was barely healed from what she went through. She knew another hit could be fatal. She should've known because now that the truth was out, she felt nothing but shame and regret. Death would've been much kinder than the monstrosity that was the realization of the man she cared so deeply about turning out to be someone else entirely.

“I thought you were different.”

The words cut sharper than the knife that stabbed him.

Matt had been in pain many times before that very moment. He’d been stabbed, shot, and beaten. Eventually, he got used to the pain and numb to the feeling. The magnitude of the situation didn't een come close to what he experienced before. It was the kind of pain that you were not prepared for. You can't prepare for something like that. The pain tore him up from the inside out. All the guilt he appointed himself saw his soul as the last feast he would ever have. He couldn’t see her face, but the pain in her eyes was visible even without sight. Even without his super senses, he could've told that the look on her face was pure agony. She wasn't scolding him or ready to beat him up - honestly, it would've been better than whatever he had to face. He hurt her, badly, and in return, he hurt himself. Her disappointment melting into unwanted rejection caused him the kind of pain that turned into self-hatred in its purest essence. He wanted to reach for her, hug her, cry into her shoulder how sorry he was, but she was distant. Not only emotionally but physically. She made sure to put enough distance between them so she didn't have to look too closely at him, afraid of what she might have done if she had taken the time to analyze him closer. Her heartbeat was calm - too calm - and her breathing burned even hotter on his skin. The lack of a proper reaction was worse than any emotional breakdown he expected her to show. He had planned for her to find out on her own terms, in a setting that was more comfortable and with enough time to explain. He wanted to control the damage he knew even back then he would inevitably cause because he was Matt Murdock, after all. He sabotaged everything in his way.

Eliza reacted the only way she knew how to, not at all. She only touched him where it was necessary to fix his wounds. She refused to look him in the eyes. For a second, she even considered not helping him at all. The evil part of her brain that used to be her standard of thought urged her to stop and let him suffer. It wanted him to bleed out the way her heart was slowly dying inside her chest. She wanted him to feel all the pain and more because the villain in her mind couldn't stand the thought of being hurt anymore than she already was. But this wasn't her anymore. She wasn't cruel. She was raised into a teenager by people who wanted her to be always kind. She tried to be understanding in the worst situations. Though it was hard to remain composure after something as heavy as this revelation came to light.

Her heart was millions of feet away from when he last touched her.

It was then Matt realized that whatever he dared to touch would eventually rot under his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to keep his lives separate. Daredevil wasn’t the reason his life went to shit, it was Matt Murdock who set out to ruin everything. He had no one else to blame but himself. Not even Daredevil could protect him from the addiction to hurting himself by screwing up over and over again until he was all alone with no one left to love him.

He desperately reached another hand out to her. Maybe it was all a bad dream. He needed more than just her fingertips to assert her presence. He needed to know she was still there.

She wasn't.

"Eliza," he said softly.

Her entire body jolted backward. "Don't touch me!" the demand was quiet yet harsh; to his ears, she was screaming.

He let his fingers fall back beside his mangled body. "Sorry," he said.

"Sorry won't fix this."

Sorry won't fix this. The words repeated in his mind over and over again. It wasn't the first time he heard something like that being said to him. He leaned his head back, neck bent over the back of the sofa. The material was rough underneath his now bare skin. It scraped and scratched him. He was in pain, simply hurting all over without a second to breathe. Matt knew then that he deserved it. He deserved every last ounce of pain he was in. Even if it had stopped, he would've been willing to do anything to make him bleed again just so he could suffer. He was a masochist of the highest order. He didn't get off on it, not this time. He wanted to feel pain because he hurt someone he deeply cared about. He wanted to rip his skin off and burn the remaining flesh over an open flame until he was screaming. He deserved it. The pain was only proof of the kind of man he really was.

She called him a good person before, he told her he wasn't, but she insisted there was hope for him after all. He had been foolish to believe her. She had been foolish to have faith in the words herself. But most importantly, she had been blind. She had been too blind to see the truth that was right in front of her eyes and for that alone, she wanted to follow this man to hell. There was nowhere else she would end up than the fiery pit beneath humanity. He surely wasn't going to heaven.

Sorry won't fix this. Matt wasn't easily scared, but this one scared him plenty. There was a high chance she meant it. And if there was no recovery from the truth this time, what else did he has left but the broken pieces of the life he destroyed for himself?

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tvrningout-archived · 2 years

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plot/relationship wishlist below!! i’ll add to this periodically, but this is what i have for now ( ´ ω ` ) pls consider this a plotting call for any of the listed plotlines -- feel free to tap the heart if you’re wanting to write one of these!

general plots

zombie au, i beg!! i’d love to write something that happens at the beginning of the outbreak ( train to busan and all of us are dead vibes ), but that’s not set in stone since i know everyone isn’t big on action scenes!

mentor-mentee/sibling/parent-child relationships for any of my babies uvu i love the positive influence one muse can have on the other and watching them grow together!

isekai au : ))))

okay but crossovers in general would be really rad

reincarnation au!! doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic bc a reunion between two best friends will still have me clutching my heart :’ )) but if we did go in a romantic direction, i feel like it’d be really funny if the two muses originally hated each other, and only one of them remembers this : ) so the one who doesn’t remember is able to treat them like a regular person who doesn’t know them at all and oh?? they don’t absolutely suck and maybe they’re actually great??? i dunno if i’m explaining that well but it’s got potential in my head!!

makiko

i’m currently thinking about that training camp where nekoma, karasuno, and fukurodani all came together, so naturally i’m thinking about how makiko would have been walking around with big eyes that say “ I HAVE QUESTIONS AND I REALLY WANNA PLAY TOO ” bc all these really cool players are in one place!!! but catch her hesitating bc volleyball is still a secret passion near and dear to her heart and sharing it is scary ;; so maybe somebody catches on since she’s got a bad poker face and talks her into practicing a bit, too?

in general, gimme all the plots and threads that manage to get makiko onto the court!! catch her practicing at the community center, or messing around after the boys finish practice, or just confront her period!

gimme timeskip stuff too!! i wanna write professional volleyball player ( or even college student ) makiko bc lately, that how i imagine her most often

chiyo

pls let me write mangaka chiyo being a menace to her agent bc she waits till the last second for almost every deadline :’ )

more interactions with karasuno players!! bc ma’am is the sports columnist and i haven’t written enough of her actually doing that

also give me more of someone meeting chiyo and being able to read her relatively well, and she’s very unsettled and maybe a little standoffish/avoidant bc of it! she’s way too comfy with being able to fool people and i’d just love for someone to take a sledgehammer to her shell

awkward exes to friends ( back to lovers if you so choose ) bc chiyo has an ex in her canon who i forget about all the time but should definitely be acknowledged and written!

lemme write chiyo’s kny and jjk verses!!! i love the thought of her in these two and would love to develop those verses more!!

tsugumi

ngl i’ve been thinking a lot about what if she did follow in geto’s footsteps when she was still in high school. i think it’s something i’d wanna definitely discuss a good lil bit bc i feel like she would have needed to witness the same kind of gross situation/a similar situation, to be pushed over the edge. so depending on who i write this with and whether your muse is all for her defecting or trying to stop that, we’ll talk about it!

give this dork some friends bc she needs some so she doesn’t crumble from the weight she places on her shoulders or burst from the complaints she keeps in

but also pls get under her skin and force her to actually 100% speak her mind : )

ALSO give her advice on how to handle her clan trying to take advantage of her and basically trying to boss her around bc tsugumi’s this close to flipping her lid at all times with them

in general i just need to develop my kiddo more so!! i’m accepting any and all ideas!!

kaiya

kinda sorta maybe wanna write kaiya before she remembered who she was -- when she was still “ kai ” : ) she still had the potential to be soft and kind, but she was much more distrusting and merciless with humans. i imagine she could be found prowling entertainment districts of major cities, so!! there’s opportunities for slayers and demons to meet my sweet pastel child

pls let kaiya be friends with more slayers and kakushi!! she is too soft to not attempt to befriend everyone she meets :’ ) there are certain details to keep in mind like the fact that not many would know about her connection to the demon slayer corps ( at first, that is ), but i would love to toss her at more people!

hyouka & satsuki

they were saved by a slayer, so i’d love to plot out that relationship with someone! keep in mind that this happened five years ago for them, so the slayer would likely be around satsuki’s age or older, assuming the slayer was at least 14-15 at the time. but i think there’s a lot of potential for character development with this kind of relationship so :’ )) gimme gimme!!

i would like to write more of satsuki bossing stubborn, injured slayers around pls and thank you <3

asdfghjk but really, satsuki is the secret weapon of her kakushi pals bc she doesn’t care about ranks when it comes to making sure someone doesn’t die. oh you’re a pillar?? that’s nice now sit down and let us treat you or i’ll make you : ) which is a little funny bc she likes to be extremely polite, but she just doesn’t have patience for pigheadedness

i’d also like to see more of someone taking care of satsuki instead of it being the other way around bc satsuki does!! so much and she needs some rest ;;;;

slayers who recognize hyouka as the very talkative kakushi they occasionally dealt with and now have to work with all the time?? aw jeez

someone pls treat hyouka like the 16 year old she is!! make her understand she needs to care for her health even if she thinks she’ll be fine!! hold her hand and tell her it’s fine if she does get scared or tired every once in a while!!

more to be added!!

#there's way more to add but i'm just starting off with this so i don't take ten years to post this #it's been sitting in my drafts for a while as it is unu #four muses is a good start considering how many i have now!#i grew up on disney | wishlist

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ay-wants-vodka · 3 years

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I HAVE FINALLY MADE MY LEGITIMATE DESIGN FOR LASERBLAST U BET UR ASS IM GOING TO MAKE A COMPLAIN POST

For now, have art of power levels taken too seriously au

Read more if you wanna hear my borderline crack thesis regarding how levelling up effects ur physique in the au

If you’ve ever attempted weight lifting/exercising in hopes of gaining muscles before getting such hopes crushed because you learn the hard way that your weak little body needs a fuck ton of effort and strenuos training because muscles take harder to build especially when you’re at the newbie beginning part.

Essentially, ‘the first step is the hardest’ is a yeah no shit sherlock when it comes to gaining muscles.

Unless, you my forever beloved reader, by some cob forbid means, have a mesomorph body type. Aka you’re built different and god had a bias towards you, therefore you naturally have a high muscle to fat ratio, therefore you gain muscle relatively easier than others.

BUT you also lose muscle as quickly as you gain but I don’t need that right now so I’m gonna tuck this bit of information under the dustbin.

So there I was, going ,“huh so there was a possibility of people in the au to have the ability to easily gain muscle as they level up (or if they were a villain; level down)”

But then I was brutally punched square in the face as I remembered changing body types was impossible.

So I went ‘fuck you science this is my au and I can bribe the President of the Universe™️ to rewrite science. So from here on out, this is all fictional, sorta.

With that, I continued studying though and found that it was possible that thoughts controlled our body, in fact, they influence our bodies directly (this part’s legit btw).

Negative thoughts genuinely fuck up your body because your brain would go, “oh fuck why are you sad nonono” and then it’d deplete all those happy chemicals out of panic and damage your immune system instead. (still legit scientific study)

Vice versa if you’re feeling happy (okay these parts are all legit studies wtf past me why'd you put that disclaimer aout this being the ‘fictional science’ part where I mess around and defy science only to contradict yourself. Now I HAVE to keep these in because it’s funny).

Your brain would see you being happy and as a response, it releases endorphins and gamma globulin (which strengthens your immune systems). And these are all based on your thoughts, feelings and expectations.

Then I went hmm. Thoughts. Thoughts.

Ex p e c ta t i o n s ?

*Lightbulb forms above my head comically as I piece together shit*

Fundamentally, in this au, power levels are entirely based on your morality. Which is funny now that I think of it because its name is VERY misleading now.

In spite of that, it could make sense to say that people in the past misunderstood what the numbers on their wrist stood for and since those with higher numbers seem to be stronger, they’d make such assumptions and now everyone’s just stuck with calling them power levels even when it’s not definitionally accurate and modern science has proven it wrong.

NOW this is the entirely fictional part.

What if the more genuine, more passionate, more determined you are in serving justice and providing peace to the community, would make your mind go, “oh man. This is an important and risky duty to take. Gotta be prepared” and slowly you gain a more mesomorphic structure to ensure your safety.

Vice versa for villains yaddee yadda brain goes “mmm cant wait to be a menace to society gotta make sure I’m prepared mwahaha”

AND THEN I WAS LIKE WAIT

GLORBS

glorbs wouldn’t fuck with your morality but definetly messes with your physical strength/powers.

And this can have a bad long term effect because having your brain and body disagree is… not the best.

Glorbs would boost your body strength but your brain would get confused because that’s not supposed to happen since your morals are still where they were. Your brain would perceive the situation as stressful, however that is entirely contradictory.

And I’m not talking about your consciousness cause you know what you’re doing, I’m talking about TAHT brain that releases funny chemicals.

So not only would a glorb power up, or ‘going turbo’, be physically exhausting once the boost is over, it is mentally exhausting too.

Hey professor maybe you shouldn't let Fink use that too much cough scoffs coucgh cough coughc *contracts tuberculosis*

And after this I thought about Laserblast’s downfall.

This would mean he had to put in more and more effort into training and spend more hours hitting the gym to maintain the same structure in an attempt to avoid suspicion. His body loses its mesomorphic form as his morality becomes muddied, and since he’s not being honest and genuine about his current state, that piles up on the already decreasing numbers on his wrist.

The poor man

It’d make even more sense for him to centre his biological studies around glorbs; the only thing that is capable of increasing his physical attributes without messing with his principles.

(Now this is interesting because his brain would be even more confused as to why he is gaining more power DESPITE a decrease in his morality. Eventually leading to even MORE of an emotional burnout)

Desperation only digging him into a deeper pit.

This experience must’ve made Venomous associate lifting weights and strenuous exercise with severe stress to uphold an image. Instead, he’d just stick with doing nerd biology shit in the lab amd just sell stuff and be a dedicated capitalist.

As a consequence, it’d be understandable that he isn’t anywhere as muscular as he is now even if he’s a -7, which is a level away from being the mirror opposite of a level 8 on the morale scale.

To clarify, I’m not saying he’s a completely muscleless twig, just not as much in comparison.

EXHALES

Okay there you go. That’s all I have to say. I placed science in this au. Put an ‘R’ in the comments if you’ve read thru this shit. It means we are married.

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fairestwriting · 3 years

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Lis-senpai, can I ask for some funny headcanons where a sweet but playful fem s/o "accidentally" gets some paint all over Silver, Sebek, Malleus, and Lilia just to catch them off guard? Like she could be painting on a canvas, cue the entrance of the boy- sorry if this is kind of confusing! I'm kinda scramble headed today

not confusing at all! dont worry uvu

Malleus Draconia

He was watching you from afar already, trying to make out what sort of picture you were working on exactly, but also just appreciating that you looked cute while you were so focused. Eventually, curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to walk over to you and see what was up.

And of course, Malleus never means to sneak up on you, but he ends up doing it anyway. In a counter attack, you turn towards him and splatter him with green that hits his hair, painting a good chunk of it.

You laugh, apologizing though you didn’t really feel guilty. You just thought that’d be funny, you tell him when he’s still looking confused. He doesn’t mind it at all, he’ll tell you, though he wonders if this is a suggestion he should get his hair dyed, or something like that?

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia, like the little shit he is, wanted to come up behind you and startle you, so he takes a good few moments to try and sneak up properly, high off his own mischief. Little does he know, you could get just as bad as him, if not worse.

He inches closer, and before he can belt out a call of your name, you turn around, and this hot pink paint splatters in a streak across his face. You grin at him, giggling as you say you knew he was going to try and sneak up on you.

Lilia stands speechless for a couple seconds, before his face twists into mischief again, and he smirks before the war is declared — Lilia taking the nearest container of paint and splattering it across you too, prompting attacks that only end when you’re both rainbow-colored and out of breath.

Silver

Silver asked if it was alright if he stuck around while you were painting, sitting next to your canvas and looking at how the picture was coming together, sometimes just zoning out as he stares at it or off into distance.

Of course, he ends up dozing off eventually, head leaning against your canvas, and when you notice, you stop to stare. He looked so peaceful, as he always did, a couple birds were already gathering nearby. You come up with a creative way to wake him up — And bright blue paint splatters on his face, getting on his uniform.

You snicker when he doesn’t really wake from that, and from the sound of your voice he begins to stir, bringing you into a full on laugh. You apologize without any real guilt, saying you just though it’d be funny to do that, and he’s completely clueless, painted blue on one half of his face.

Sebek Zigvolt

Why are you painting now of all times? Isn’t it around thirty minutes before club time? You should be getting ready for that! Sebek marches over to scold you, his loud voice already proclaiming all sorts of things, and you prepare your attack.

Taking one of the paint containers, a mint green like Sebek’s hair, you grin at him and just toss it, getting it all over his blazer. Sebek sputters and you can’t stop laughing. Sorry, sorry, I just thought it’d be funny, you say, almost with tears in your eyes, and he just keeps staring with his jaw dropped.

He starts scolding you, of course, what the hell were you thinking doing that? What is the meaning of this? His face is all red like he’s horribly flustered, you still can’t stop laughing. Anyone who came across this would be greeted with a quite strange scene.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #lis writing

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mythiccheroacademia · 3 years

Text

— what you fight about (pt.2)

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

𝕙𝕠𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤: 𝕚’𝕞 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪. 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕪'𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤. 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣’𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜 <𝟛 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕥𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕔 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕣𝕤/𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤, 𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕥 ℙ𝕋𝕊𝔻, 𝕒𝕟𝕩𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪, 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪’𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕥 :/

Tamaki Amajiki:

you love everything about tamaki

all his faults and his strengths

but sometimes…it feels like you’re the only one keeping it together

and to always be the strong one is hard

It had been a difficult two weeks since your last mission.

Perhaps you were naïve to believe you wouldn’t experience a death any time soon. However, you had been bright and hopeful. The hero you worked as a sidekick for rarely got involved in super-high level threats. You dealt with misdemeanors and a few moderate-sized threats.

Maybe you were being stupid. Nevertheless, the tragedy hit you hard. Both physically and mentally.

You were out until you could safely use your quirk again. In the meantime, your fiancé had done all he could to take care of you. But he was worried.

Tamaki couldn’t help but panic. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you better. Honestly, he wanted you back to normal. He just didn’t know how to do it. You were always the strength of the relationship.

He felt so pathetic over his inability to help, spending hours on the phone with Mirio and Neijre crying over the issue. Afterwards, he’d crawl into bed, cheeks wet with tears, and despite your sadness, you’d wrap your arms around him.

You’d comfort him like you always do and it’d make him feel even worse.

You knew he was trying his best and appreciated that. Though, there was a point to which it all got to be too much for you to handle.

Mirio and Neijre came over to help put up some Christmas decorations. You wanted to cancel. Today hadn’t been a good day. However, Amajiki began to worry over your mood again and so you held your thoughts to avoid his tears.

But it seemed like your tears were the ones you should’ve been worried about.

You sat down on a chair and held your head. The world was spinning, and your ears were ringing. Your eyes burned so badly you felt they’d melt out of your head.

“Bunny!?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I just need a minute.”

“What can I do?” Tamaki rushed to kneel beside you, fear shining in his glossy eyes.

You shook you head balling your fist near your lips to keep in a cry. “I’m fine, baby,” you sniffed, but that was a lie.

Your head was swimming, buzzing, and filled with nothing but noise. No matter how hard you tried to make it go away, you just couldn’t. You couldn’t deal with that or—

“I-I’ll take care of you. Just p-please tell me what to do!” he begged. You could feel his anxiety seeping into your body and it nearly sent you over the edge.

“Tama, please.”

“I can—I can do something. Anything. Anything you want. An-and—"

All you could think about was how you failed the mission, the girl, her parents, your team, your friends, the public, and—

“Amajiki.”

“B-bunny, I know I haven’t been a good fiancé l-lately, but I-I promise I’ll—"

“AMAJIKI!”

Tamaki jumped, eyes wide and body frozen as he took in the near panic in your eyes.

“I CAN’T—” your voice was shrill before you hiccupped, choking back a sob. You squeezed the air by your head, hoping to ground yourself to something that wasn’t there.

“I just can’t deal with you right now, okay? I-I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Your breaths left in puffs as you silently watched his mind work to process your words, and when it did, you saw his heart visibly break.

He grabbed his hand to cradle it into his chest like it was wounded. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, not even a decibel above faint.

“N-no, it’s…I—I’ll give you some space.”

He tried to offer a brave smile, but it wobbled too much to do anything. The tears that ran down his cheeks seemed to suffocate him, and Tamaki couldn’t bite back his cry in time before he quickly left the room. Mirio worriedly gazed at you before running after his friend.

Your eyes remained transfixed on the space where your fiancé once stood. It wasn’t until moments later, when you felt Neijre’s comforting hands around your torso, that you doubled over and wept.

Togata Mirio:

he’s optimistic

too optimistic sometimes

you love the light he brings into your life

but it’s at the cost of him dismissing your feelings and worries

You checked the backseat when the car stopped at the red light to ensure your sleeping son was still there.

“Two minutes and 20 seconds. That’s a new record babe,” Mirio chuckled.

“Very funny.” You threw an unimpressed glare at your husband before turning back into your seat. “But can you blame me? After the heart attack I had this morning, I wanna chain him to my chest and never let go.”

The blonde hero hummed thoughtfully. “That’s only slightly psychotic.”

“Mirio.”

“I’m kidding!”

You huffed and looked away. You were a bit annoyed over the nonchalance your husband seemed to have over what occurred today.

Your son had presented with a quirk and, to your horror, it was similar to Mirio’s—if not even more dangerous. When you came back to find your baby fading away before sinking into the ground, you screamed like murder.

Mirio had never phased into a room so quickly in his life.

After getting both you and your kid (mostly you) to calm down, you went straight to the hospital to make sure everything was still intact. They gave you some quirk inhibiting medication for your kid, a quick pep talk, and you were on your way back home.

The hectic morning made your son knock out as soon as he hit the car seat. You wanted to follow suit but were too paranoid to do so. In fact, you wanted to hold him—just in case. But Mirio insisted the medication would hold him until you got home. Then he cracked a joke about your kid turning into tumble weed and laughed like it was the funniest thing he ever said.

And he kept making jokes. Like this was funny.

Forget annoyed. It was pissing you off.

Mirio peeked a quick glance over your stiff figure. A small grin graced his lips, and he placed a comforting hand on your thigh.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know you’re scared. I’ll chill with the jokes. Just promise not to blow a gasket on me, will ya?” he smiled.

You averted your eyes away from the moving tress to look at him well. “You could take this a little more seriously, you know?” you said.

“I assure you, I am 100% serious.”

He couldn’t even say that with a straight face. You rolled your eyes, groaning into your head tilt.

“Ooou you get on my nerves—”

“Sunshine, it’ll be fineee,” he happily assured. “It’ll just take some practice before [S/N] gets control of it.”

“[S/N] literally turns invisible before he permeates through surfaces. That’s so scary. I can’t do anything for him unless you're there and even then, that might not always work out. We need to figure something out.”

“His quirk is really not too far from mine. And you remember all the funny things that happened when I was a kid.”

You incredulously looked at him. “Yeah, all the funny near death experiences!”

“And I turned out fine!” Mirio laughed.

You wanted to rip your hair out. There was literally no getting through to him.

“Forget it. I don’t even know why I bother.” You scooted away from his hand, crossing your arms in frustration. “It’s not like you take my feelings seriously anyways.”

That last part was meant for your own ears, however Mirio heard them loud and clear. He turned into the neighborhood, brows subtly scrunching together.

“Now that’s not true. I care about that a lot actually.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Well that was not the answer he expected.

There were a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence before the car reached your garage and was turned off. You two looked forwards for a moment before someone spoke.

“I feel like we should talk about this,” Mirio slowly said, turning to watch for your reaction.

You gave him a glare that caused him to goofily purse his lips. You then got out of the car and went to go unstrap your son so you could hold him until the events of the morning faded from your mind.

As a last resort to make you smile, Mirio permeated his torso through his seat to give you the cheesiest grin.

“I love you, honey bunny~” he sung.

To which he earned a car door slammed in his face.

Dabi:

he’s selfish

you know it and he does too

yet you still stay around because you love him

but it seems like he couldn’t care less about whether or not you do

You impassively sat on the couch of your small apartment. Your hands were folded across your chest, teeth chattering against the raw skin underneath your nail bed. For a minute straight, your knee bounced in place before you stood up and took to pacing in order to release the energy bubbling in your chest.

It felt like hours before your apartment door opened.

Dabi threw his keys onto the closest surface and shrugged off his heavy jacket. You didn’t realize you’d moved before you took the jacket to hang on the wall.

“It’s cold as shit out there,” he shivered.

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a blizzard sometime soon,” you replied, yet it sounded distant. However, Dabi didn’t seem to notice.

“Can’t wait,” he huffed. A mischievous glint grew in his eyes as he pulled you into his chest by your waist. Usually that would’ve made your thighs tense with anticipation. But all you could do was stand there like dead weight—and again, he didn’t notice. Did he ever? “But I guess it won’t be too bad if I have you to keep me warm, hm?” he smirked.

You stood stiff as he kissed your lips and tears burned your eyes as he moved to your neck, hands affectionately squeezing your hips. The bubbles in your chest rumbled and popped like angry bees when you realized he hadn’t noticed. He never noticed it. He never noticed anything about you. Just like he hadn’t noticed—

“Dabi, what day is it?”

His lips continued to pepper your skin with licks and nips, mindlessly working to find your sweet spot again. “Mmm…Thursday, sweetheart.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” Dabi looked up and met your stone cold face that looked angrier by the second. He quirked a brow. “What’s up with you?”

“It’s our one year anniversary, you asshole.”

You pushed him away, stomping towards your room. However, Dabi grabbed your arm, pulling you back into the conversation. But instead of hearing an apology, you received an inattentive eyeroll.

“Don’t be like that, doll-face. It’s really not that deep.”

“Excuse me?” you spat. “You said the same thing ever since our 6 month and I let it go, but now you wanna act like this isn’t a big deal? You know how much this means to me.”

“And you know that’s not my style. I don’t care about shit like that.”

“Well I do.” You moved out of his grasp and put distance between yourselves to help you think.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, stress in his movements. “Are we really gonna do this right now, Y/N?”

“Yes! Because you don’t get it!”

Fed up with the argument already, Dabi threw his hands in the air, letting his frustration carry the words through his lips. It had been an awful day, his staples were aching from the weather, and this was making everything worse.

“I already missed the damn thing, what do you want me to do!? You want me to say I’ll make up for it?”

“I want you to care, Dabi!” you desperately exclaimed. “I want you to care about me, about this relationship. Damn it, I want you to care about anything else besides what’s in my pants for once in your life—”

“Well that’s all I wanted until you started asking for more shit and I gave you that. What more do you want from me?” he sneered.

There was a silent pause between you two. You blankly stared at the man you’d come to love despite the hell he put you through. When you observed the honest irritation in his eyes, everything became clear. It was in that moment you realized it wasn’t that he never noticed. It was that he didn’t care. He never did.

That’s when you felt the deep ache of heartbreak nestle between your lungs.

“What more do I want from you,” you repeated, tasting the words. You numbly laughed and nodded your head, silently accepting his truth.

There were no tears, just bitter emptiness.

“Well, uh…you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You won’t be roped into another anniversary with me again.”

It was a moment too late when your soft whisper broke through the angry storm that clouded Dabi’s head. His face sunk with the exhaustion of a man well beyond his years.

“Y/N, baby, can we just talk about this—"

“Leave the spare key on your way out.”

And before he could utter another word, you shut your bedroom door like it was never to be opened again.

#tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #suneater #mirio togata #mirio x reader #lemillion #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha headcanons #mha drabbles #angst

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating.

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegardener @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

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moistmailman · 3 years

Text

*At the back of Beacon’s library*

Pyrrha, sitting at a table by herself: *completely engrossed by something*

Jaune, sneaking up from behind:.........*grabs her by the hips* Whatchu’ doing back here young lady? *kisses her cheek*

Pyrrha: *squeaks loudly while nearly jumping out of her skin*

Jaune: *laughs*

Pyrrha, blushing and pouting: J-Jaune! D-don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Jaune, chuckling: My bad. It’s just that it’s not everyday you can get the drop on the Pyrrha Nikos. *pulls up chair* So what are you doing back here all by your little self anyway?

Pyrrha, awkwardly: O-oh, uhm...I uhm....

*Jaune looks a the table to see a figure of a car with other pieces near it and an instruction pamphlet*

Jaune, raising an eyebrow: Wait, are you building a model car?

Pyrrha, blushing: M-maybe. I-it’s uhm.....it’s a model from Back To the Future.

Jaune: Back to the future? That old movie franchise from the dinosaur ages?

Pyrrha, slightly defensively: It’s not that old, but yes, that franchise.

Jaune: Oh my god. I can’t believe my girlfriend is such a dork.

Pyrrha, blushing: H-hey. I-I’m not a d-dork!

Jaune, snorting: Relax, I’m only joking....partially. Being a dork can be cute nowadays. I mean, you should know. You’re dating me of all people.

Pyrrha: *cutely pouts at her boyfriend’s teasings*

Jaune: So you bought yourself figure from the movie?

Pyrrha, smiling embarrassed: Well I wasn’t really planning on buying it. It’s just kinda happened. My dad randomly sent me a link to this because it was on sale. Next thing I know it was already in my cart.

Jaune: You dad sent you it?

Pyrrha, smiling: Oh yes! My dad’s also a huge fan. He’s the one who got me in the franchise. He took me to see all of them in theater; you see, the movies were playing in my neighborhood’s theaters because of one of it’s anniversaries, and my dad wanted to see them again. Although he also had to watch me while my mother was away, and instead of hiring a baby sitter he decided to just take me along with him.

Jaune, nodding: Oh?

Pyrrha, smiling giddily: I remember the first time seeing it. I was amazed the entire time. They were so fantastic and magical to me. I loved them so much. I asked my dad so many times to go see them again afterwards, and each time he did, at least for a week that is, then he grew tired of it. He had to buy me the DVD set so he could get one free day to himself. *chuckles* He used to make jokes about it on how he “accidentally created a monster”. I was so happy when I got the DVDs though. I’ve watch them so many times. Every day after school for like a month straight. My mother used to call me her ‘little time traveler’ and I also liked to pretended that I was time traveling in my blanket forts. I also— Eh?

Jaune: *chuckling*

Pyrrha: What’s funny?

Jaune, chuckling: Nothing. It’s just that I’ve never really seen you talk about something you this passionate about. It’s really dorky, but in a cute way.

Pyrrha: *blushes*

Jaune: So anyway, this is the car they used in the movies? Looks kinda weird.

Pyrrha: Yeah. The car model they used wasn’t actually that popular at the times. It was lacking behind compared to the other cars. It’s only became popular because of the movie franchise in fact. The only reason they chose the DeLorean in the first place was because Doc thought it looked stylish.

Jaune, raising an eyebrow: Doc?

Pyrrha: One of the main characters. He’s the one who made the time machine. He got the idea when he hit his head on his toilet while putting up a clock. He then wrote down the idea for the flux capacitor so he wouldn’t forget it. OH! Which is this thing right here!

*Pyrrha shows Jaune a tiny metal box that has a glass case in it, a Y shape object being inside it*

Pyrrha, with stars in her eyes: This bad boy is the reason why the DeLereon can go back in time in the first place. In order for it to work the car has to reach a speed limit of 88 miles per hour and requires 1.21 gigawatts to activate.

Jaune: *smiles at his rambling girlfriend*

Pyrrha: Originally the car ran on plutonium, which the Doc has to steal from a group of terrorists, who in returned killed him, forcing Marty to flee back in time in order to escape. Marty then— OH! I forgot about the main protagonist! Marty is a friend’s of Doc. He’s a high schooler he hangs out with. They never explained how they met in the franchise so it’s kinda up to speculations. Anyway, Marty is kinda a rebel like character. He’s not afraid to talk back to authority and fight someone, unlike his father; whose the complete opposite of his son.

Jaune, internally: God she’s so cute.

Pyrrha: Anywho, Marty goes back in time which kickstarted the whole movie’s events. He accidentally messed with the timeline and nearly erased his whole existence until he got his parents to fall in love at the dance, OH, and he technically invented Jonnny B Goode during the dance. After Marty saved his existence he went back to the present when he finds out that Doc actually survived because he was wearing a bullet-proof vest since Marty told him abou— oh gosh! I forgot to mentioned that Marty met past Doc as well! You see, Marty didn’t have the means to go back to the present, so he went to Past Doc’s house to get help. Obviously he didn’t believe Marty at first when he told him about it, until the boy showed him— w-Wait, why are you laughing again?

Jaune, chuckling: Cause of your ramblings. It’s adorable, I swear. I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s precious.

Pyrrha, blushes again: I just really like this franchise is all.

Jaune, smiling: Look, instead of telling me about the movies, you wanna watch them together instead?

Pyrrha, eyes instantly sparking with joy: Really? You want to?

Jaune: Of course. Why not? Sounds great. You watched all of the lord of the rings with me, so it’s the least I could do.

Pyrrha, happily: Oh gosh! I can’t wait then! I can get my dad to send me my DVDs and we can watch them immediately! I can’t wait!

Jaune: That sounds great. *stands up* Anyway, I think I should allow you to finish this model of yours.

Pyrrha, confused: My mode— oh! I forgot about the model I’m building. *slightly laughs in embarrassment* S-So is next week good for you?

Jaune: It’d be perfect. See you later. *leaves*

Pyrrha, smiling and waving: Bye. Okay, now let me finish this thing finally. *goes back to building the DeLorean

#Rwby #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #arkos #pyrrha x jaune #we need more dorky Pyrrha

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ibis-gt · 3 years

Note

I honestly would love to read about the first time Cam finds out Luther is shrinking because he has feelings for him. In that hanahaki disease au.

ask and ye shall receive.... cam figures it out. just shy of 2000 words.

~~~

“Aaaand… there,” Cam said, and gave the screwdriver one final twist. He pulled on the little contraption in front of him a few times to test its stability and sat back on his haunches, finally satisfied. “You’re all set.”

It is one of four little rope and pulley elevator systems that he’d set up around Luther’s apartment. It consisted of a small wooden plank that Luther could stand on and use the rope system to raise or lower himself. Each one was operable at height ranges between about a foot and a half to four inches. They let him get up onto his sofa, his bed, the kitchen counter, and the bathroom sink.

“You really didn’t have to do all that,” Luther protested from his position just behind Cam. “I mean, I don’t get that small that often, I probably won’t use them that much.”

Cam laughed and pushed a stray wisp of hair out of his face, looking up at Luther. “What are you talking about? You’re always shrinking around me. It’s okay, I’m happy to help. That’s what friends are for.” He watched the usual blush spread across Luther’s face, the telltale shiver run down his spine, and smiled as Luther shrank another inch. He’d lost some height here and there during the installation process as they chatted, and had gone down to about five foot even, if Cam had to guess. “Anyway, you let me know if you have any trouble with these, and I’ll be over to fix ‘em as soon as I can. And there’s the bells if you’re in any real trouble - those strings there, see? They’re hooked up to a bell in my apartment, ring that and I’ll come right over.”

“My cat’ll have a field day with them,” Luther murmured, brow furrowing. “Maybe we should do something other than string.”

Cam chewed on the end of his screwdriver in contemplation. “Hm. Good point. I’ll figure something out later.” He slipped the screwdriver in his toolbelt and slapped his hands on thighs as he stood up. “Well! I’d better get back to my place and start dinner. You’re coming over, right?”

“Oh! As long as it’s not an imposition? I mean, I don’t want to be any trouble…”

“Nah, s’alright, you’re always welcome. Spaghetti and meatballs tonight. See you in an hour?”

Luther’s blush deepened and he lost another two inches. “S-see you then,” he managed.

Cam chuckled fondly to himself as he left. He tried not to think of Luther’s condition as cute or funny, because when the shrinking was really bad it put the poor guy in danger. But he couldn’t help but find it amusing when Luther lost just a little height, ending up just a slightly shorter version of himself. And when he went on one of his long rambles and shrank a little bit at a time all throughout, it put Cam in mind of a deflating balloon, which was just too silly not to laugh at. And when he ended up really tiny, and he was just like a little doll, and fit so perfectly in the palm of Cam’s hand…

Cam shook his head to clear his thoughts. No, that was too far. He shouldn’t think like that, no doubt it was terrifying for Luther to be so small and vulnerable. He sighed as he shouldered his door open, hands full of leftover wood and string. He set them on the little table where he kept his keys by the door, then unbuckled his toolbelt and hung it on the coat rack, lost in thought.

He’d been puzzling over what caused Luther to shrink for a while now. Was it just at random? Was it like an allergic reaction, and some kind of food or environmental thing kicked it off? He had a brief vision of Luther sneezing and instantly shrinking down to bug size. No, knock it off, he chastised himself, not funny. A little funny. But don’t laugh at it.

Anyway, he hadn’t seen Luther ever sneeze when he shrank, so that probably wasn’t it. What were the symptoms? He’d make a list, that would help him narrow it down.

Cam slipped an apron over his head - one of the novelty ones his sister kept getting him, he didn’t bother to read the witty joke about buns printed on the front - and started on the dough for his spaghetti. Whenever possible, he liked to make things from scratch. Besides, having something to do with his hands let his mind work better. He worked the problem around in his mind just like he worked the dough in front of him, kneading it, pushing it around, looking at it from different angles.

So. What were the warning signs? Luther tended to get awkward and shy just before he shrank. He’d blush, stammer or trip over his words, either avoid eye contact or stare like he couldn’t look away, and of course the final sign was that signature shiver right before a loss of height. A lot of those symptoms could be attributed to anxiety as well - was that what triggered the shrinking, just whenever he was anxious? But that couldn’t be it, Luther had been anxious plenty of times without shrinking. Not to mention he worked a high-stress job, waiting tables at a local diner, and wouldn’t be able to make it through the day if anxiety made him shrink. So that wasn’t it.

Cam rolled the dough out flat and cut it into strips. He hung the fresh noodles up to dry and put water on to boil, then opened the fridge and pulled out the meatballs he’d shaped that morning.

His brain kept chugging along on the issue as he worked, hands going on automatic. He came back to the present long enough to taste the sauce he’d made, hem and haw, and add a little more garlic, then went right back to it. There was something tugging at the back of his mind, trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

A sound startled him out of his thoughts - the ringing of a bell.

“Shoot,” Cam hissed, dropping the sauce spoon. It clattered onto the stove and left little pools of sauce cooling on the glass surface. He’d deal with that later though, Luther needed him now. He switched the burners to low and headed for the door.

Luther’s door was locked, so he had to duck back inside his apartment to grab the spare key. He opened the door slowly and called out.

“Luther? Was that just the cat, or do you need me?” Cam scanned the room, looking for that distinctive neon green jumpsuit. It clashed horribly with everything, but it was useful for spotting him when he ended up tiny. Sure enough, there he was by the strings for the bell, waving an arm to get Cam’s attention. He was easy to spot, as far as things went, standing about a foot tall. Cam hurried over.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need help?” Cam took a knee in front of Luther and leaned in close, inspecting him for injuries. Luther took a step back, startled by the sudden rush of worry, and Cam made himself pull back as well. It had to be scary to have someone looming over you like that, he told himself, give him a little space.

“I-I’m fine,” Luther said. “I just… well, this happened, and now I can’t really open my door, so I was hoping you could give me a lift over for dinner? Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve used the bell. I could’ve texted you.”

The tension flooded out of Cam and he laughed in relief. “No, that’s fine, I just jumped to conclusions. I can give you a lift, sure.” He cupped his hands and held them out to Luther, who climbed on and settled in, sitting down with his legs crossed. Cam rose slowly, being careful not to jostle Luther, and began to amble back towards the door. A thought occurred to him.

“What did it?” Cam asked.

Luther looked up, startled. “What did what?”

‘“What made you shrink this time? I’ve been trying to work it out on my own and I’m just not getting it. There’s gotta be a common thread, right, you’re not just shrinking at random?”

Luther stared at him in open-mouthed shock, face growing steadily redder.

“I mean,” Cam continued, “if you were just shrinking at random, it’d be hard to hold down a job, y’know? Do you ever shrink at work? And anyway, didn’t you say - ” His eyes widened as that thing that had been nagging at him finally became clear. “You said you don’t shrink all the time! But you shrink pretty often whenever I’m around. Am I doing it, somehow?”

“No, no, no,” Luther said hurriedly, but Cam could feel him getting smaller.

“Oh, liar!” Cam chortled. “Nice try, Pinnochio, but I’m literally holding you right now. Is it actually me?”

“It’s - it’s not - not always?” Luther was practically cowering away from him now, and Cam realized he’d been a little harsh.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry. Look, we don’t have to talk about it, okay? It’s your business, I shouldn’t’ve pried.”

“No, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, it’s just… hard to say out loud, um…” Luther fidgeted with the collar of his jumpsuit, avoiding Cam’s eyes. He was red as a tomato, mouth drawn up in an adorable little pout, and so small and cute that Cam’s heart ached. Then it clicked.

“Oh. Is it me, like… because you like me?” Cam asked. “Like, you have a crush on me, is that it?”

Luther let out a sound like a tea kettle whistling, shrinking down at an alarming rate to only five inches tall. Cam couldn’t help himself. He laughed so hard he snorted. When he finally got a hold on himself again, the wounded look on Luther’s face sobered him instantly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but you don’t know how long I’ve been trying to work this out, and the answer’s been right in front of my face the whole time! I swear I’m laughing at myself, not at you. Anyway, you wanna go out sometime?”

Luther gaped up at him for a long moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Finally he shut his mouth and nodded furiously. Cam grinned.

“Or this could be like our first date, right? I’ll get some candles and dim the lights. We could even 'Lady and the Tramp' it with the spaghetti! Or - okay, okay, sorry, I’ll stop.” Luther had started to shrink again, and Cam didn’t want his cooking to go to waste just because his guest was too small to eat it. “Hey, I joke a lot, but I want you to know I’m being serious here,” he said gently. “I’d like to go out with you, if you’re alright with it. Is it going to cause problems, though? Like are you going to shrink every time we’re together?”

Luther shifted and looked away, finally finding his voice. “I - I don’t know. The doctor said if I told you about how I felt, it would get easier. But he didn’t say it would go away entirely… if that’s not something you want to put up with, we don’t have to - ”

“No, no, that’s fine, I don’t mind it. Just if it was a problem for you, is all. I like you a lot, Luther. I’d love to be your partner, if you’ll have me.”

Luther looked back up at Cam with a huge, genuine, relieved smile on his teeny tiny face. Cam’s heart melted.

“I’d like that.”

#asks #writing #gulliver's hanahaki #not me best but i am at peace w/ it

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auramindedd · 3 years

Text

I Like You - SMAU*

Part 10

CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N

warnings: cussing

notes: uhhh,, idk where to take this series, but ima just go w the flow igs 😭 also,, i completely give up on adding the small details like the likes, comments, replies, and the times on tweets so i’m super sorry if it bothers you lmao

it’s also pretty long,, mostly writing rather than the smau, butttt i really like this one 🥺

——————————————————————————

“When’s Rae gonna be home?” Corpse asks, playing with his hands.

“She’ll be home tonight, I just don’t know at what time. Why?”

“Uh... I- I just... I don’t know? I’m kind of nervous?”

“Corpse, Rae is your friend. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get a hotel room for you not too far away from here?” You suggest, 100% willing to pay for a hotel room for him if he wouldn’t feel comfortable being here with Rae here.

“I wanna stay here- with you... If that’s okay with you, of course.” There’s a slight blush on his face, it makes you smile a bit.

“Yes, I want you to stay here, too. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You grab his plate, stacking his on top of yours, taking them to the sink.

“No, no. I can be on the couch tonight, I don’t sleep anyway.”

“Corpse, I’m not gonna have you sleep on that uncomfortable ass couch. Come on, we’ll figure something out. Wanna watch a movie?” He nods his head. You grab his hand, or more so his fingers, leading him to your room.

You turn the lights off, turning your fairy lights on instead. You tell Corpse to get comfortable, fluffing pillows for him, letting him lay back.

You know Corpse would be a bit anxious and nervous, not something you’d ever blame him for. You’re surprised you’re not being awkward or nervous. You’ve been trying your best to keep Corpse comfortable here, making sure he isn’t getting too nervous.

“Can we watch High School Musical? I have the stupid ass songs stuck in my head, childish me is coming...” You ask, not wanting to torture him with such a movie. Well, it’s not a bad movie, but you’d understand if anyone’d want to shoot themselves in the head while watching.

“Of course, baby.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach from the nickname. You sit closer to the TV, wanting Corpse to be comfortable rather than you.

Suddenly, you feel a hand around your waist. Corpse pulls you to him, letting you lay next to him. He looks at you, smiling. You smile back.

“Corpse, can I ask you a question?” He hums, indicating for you to go on. “That one time, you didn’t answer me for two days... You told me it had been because I was too ‘pretty.’ I didn’t believe you, and I still don’t. Why didn’t you answer me, like for real?” You don’t ask this in a bad way either, you’re just genuinely curious.

“I- uh... I’m going to be 100% honest, Y/N, but I don’t wanna scare you away.” He says cautiously, hesitating to go on.

“Corpse, you could never. I’m too attached already.” He chuckles, letting out a sigh.

“I like you. Like, like like you... I liked you before even seeing your face, but after, wow.” Silence. Deafening silence. But honestly, you can hear your fucking smile. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so hard in your life. “Y/N, baby, say something, please.”

“Corpse,” You look up at him, probably scaring him with your smile. “I like you, too. Like, like like you.” He chuckles, but it’s more of a chuckle of relief. If that’s a thing?

He pulls you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, his breathing, trying to match yours with his. You slowly drift off, your eyelids getting too heavy to keep open.

———

You wake up in Corpse’s arms. He’s gently stroking your side, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Good morning,” His voice is raspier and deeper than it already is. You didn’t know that was possible.

“Good morning,” You say, yawning softly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, snuggling closer to him.

“So fucking cute.” He mumbles, softly chuckling.

After a while of just laying there in Corpse’s arms, you decide to check social media and your messages. Already, Twitter is going crazy, assuming quickly that you and Corpse are dating. It’s not anything you didn’t expect, but it’d be nice if people didn’t jump to conclusions.

You decide to tweet a good morning, feeling good about today. And sadly, very unfortunately, you decide to text back the group chat - something you’ve been dreading to do.

Corpse is there, reading the messages, but you don’t mind.

You kind of, accidentally, and very stupidly put yourself out, but it’s all good, nobody said anything besides Brooke. You all have a drunk Among Us lobby to get to.

After getting ready, Corpse getting his laptop and mic ready in another room, you join the Discord call. Corpse joins quickly after. Surprisingly, nobody says anything about you two being in the same apartment while greeting each other. You don’t doubt that someone will say something soon.

“Let’s all take a drink - to Corpse and Y/N holding hands!” Alex exclaims, clinking his glass on his mic. The rest cheer, pretending to clink their glasses as well. You sigh and laugh a bit, but nonetheless, you’re gulping down a glass of champagne.

“Alex,” You say, catching his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey. No fucking.” Karl says, and you can hear him slap his hand to his mouth after realizing what he just said. The lobby bursts into fits of laughter, but the one you’re trying to listen for, Corpse’s. It’s silent on his end.

“Karl, how much have you had to drink?” Dream asks, slurring his words. Didn’t this game just start?

“I had like 3 beers?”

“You fucking lightweight.” You tease. “Dream, you’ve been drinking too...”

“Yeah, we might’ve pregamed an Among Us game.” He admits shamefully.

“Didn’t expect less from you two,” Rae says, adding a disappointing tone to her voice for effect. She starts the game, despite the sad protests from Karl and Dream.

Crewmate.

You pout, wanting so badly to be Imposter. You’re a good liar to say the least, and people easily fall for your sweet, innocent voice. It’s funny, pathetic even, which is why you want at least one good Imposter round.

“Whaddup, baby,” Corpse greets you in Nav. Dream follows behind him, Karl coming in shortly after.

“Hey, my beautiful alcoholics!” You greet cheerfully, earning groans from them both. Oh, how fun it’s going to be teasing them.

“At least she called us beautiful.” Karl says, walking out of Nav with Dream, leaving you and Corpse alone again. You get back to doing your task, connecting the ship with the dotted lines and whatnot.

“Am I beautiful?” You can hear the pout in his voice, it’s cute.

“Gorgeous, stunning even.” You say before walking out of Nav, smiling to yourself.

This round is pretty uneventful, along with the next few. But after about five rounds, you’re all incredibly drunk after playing some drinking games.

“No balls,” Rae dares. You’re Imposter this round, and Rae’s made you her personal hitman. She’s telling you to kill Karl, but he’s innocently doing his tasks.

“I have three actually.” You defend yourself, not making any sense at all.

“Three what?” Sykkuno comes in.

“Three balls,” Rae answers.

“Okayyy then...” Sykkuno drawls, leaving you two alone. Corpse comes along, the second Imposter. Oh, how convenient.

“Hey, Corpseee,” You greet, making it so fucking obvious.

“Oh my God!” Rae exclaims. You sigh, facepalming yourself. “Corpse kill Karl, Y/N kill Sykkuno.”

“Woah, since when did we become your hitmen?” Corpse backs his astronaut up.

“I’m not killing Syk!” You whisper-yell.

“Okay, then you kill Karl and Corpse can kill Sykkuno.” You can hear her shrugging as if it’s no big deal, but literally, Karl and Sykkuno are the sweetest people to you.

“No, I’m not doing it, Rae...” Corpse still hasn’t said anything. He’s watching you and Rae go back and forth, whisper-yelling even though anyone would be able to hear you.

“I’ll call you two out.”

“You’d never,”

“The emergency meeting button is looking real sexy right now.” Ugh, fuck the stupid smirk you can just hear in her voice.

“Fine, we’ll do it.” Corpse says. He goes and kills Sykkuno. You hesitate killing Karl, but he already watched Corpse kill Sykkuno so, unfortunately, you have to.

You and Corpse run away, leaving Rae to report the bodies.

After you and Corpse vouching for each other the whole round, nobody putting sus on you two because well, you sound so innocent and sweet even while being shitface drunk, you two win, earning groans from everyone in the lobby except from Rae.

“To be fucking fair, Rae had me and Corpse be her hitmen sooo, you can blame her if you died.” The lobby starts yelling playfully at Rae.

———

After finally finishing streaming, Corpse comes into your room, plopping down onto your bed.

“Gosh, I’m gonna have the worst fucking hangover tomorrow.” He murmurs into your pillow, hugging it close to him. You jump onto the bed, sitting next to him, playing with his hair. He doesn’t mind, or you don’t think he does.

“It was fun,” You say, smiling to yourself. You love spending time with your friends. You can’t imagine how much fun it’d be if all of you got together in real life.

“It was,” Corpse yawns, looking up at you, smiling as you keep playing with his hair. He gets up, settling himself into your bed again, pulling you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around him, snuggling yourself closer to him.

“We should probably eat something... And get ourselves some water.” You say, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover is going to be a bitch.

“I don’t wanna let go of you.” Corpse whines. You try getting up, but he almost throws a fucking tantrum. Quickly, you get out of his arms, running out of your room, giggling like a fucking maniac.

“Y/N! Please!” He shouts softly, trying not to wake Rae. He runs after you, following you into the kitchen. You run to the other side of the counter. He goes left, you go right - vice versa.

“Corpse, we need food and water.” You say, trying to grab pans out of the cupboards while he’s trying to get you. You can’t help yourself from giggling. Rae will kill you if you two wake her up.

“I wanna hold you,” Corpse pouts. Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you.

“In a sec, I can make us something real quick.” Drunk Corpse obviously equals Clingy Corpse.

“Fine,” He sighs dramatically, sitting on a stool. You grab pans from underneath the cupboards, pulling out some bread and cheese. Grilled cheese is easiest and it’ll take the least amount of time.

As you’re plopping bread into the toaster, Corpse snakes his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck. There’s the slightest stubble, making you giggle.

“Corpse, I can’t cook with you on me.”

“Yes you can, I’ll help.” So stubborn...

You take the bread out of the toaster before it gets too toasted, putting it on the buttered pan.

It was a mission to finish the food to say the least. Corpse demands you eat in your room that way he can hold you. You put on The Promised Neverland, watching the TV as Corpse watches you. But honestly, you don’t mind.

You two fall asleep in each other’s arms again. And you don’t think you’d ever be able to fall asleep without being in his arms again.

——————————————————————————

Taglist - comment or message me to be added.

Sorry for not updating, I have to go through a bunch of posts. I’ll update in the next post.

* if you’re name is in bold, i couldn’t tag you. *

@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna @ilovejjmaybank @starstruckllamapuppy @owl-llie @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @in-fucking-deed @a-dot-dev @rjsmochii @boiled-onionrings @neenieweenie @vvenusblue @bellomi-clarke @smiithys @londonskies @16marie @leah-0207 @officiallyunofficialperson @wineandionysus @fanficlover99

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Tags - ignore::

#corpse #corpse fic #corpse husband #corpse husband fic #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband smau #corpse husband social media au #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband scenarios #smau #social media au #imagine #among us #cute

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i-need-entertainment · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu Boys and the moment they thought their child came from satan

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna

Warnings: Children, children can be cruel- please proceed with caution, the guys being called not-nice-things cause kids are (albeit cute) incarnates of satan. I say this with love, and yes I have trauma, mentions of injuries, nerf guns and shooting someone with them, pushing someone down the stairs

Akaashi Keiji:

When your son was first born, he was very much a parents-only child. He didn’t like to be held by strangers, which were anyone not his parents.

But there was one exception to that rule, and that was Bokuto.

Which was good because even as an adult I don’t think Bokuto could handle being rejected by little Akaashi.

As he got older, he slowly warmed up to more people, but he was still very shy everywhere not home.

Bokuto had been visiting for the weekend, wanting to come see his friend and his family!

Bokuto had left that morning, and your son was still not happy. He really wasn’t a difficult kid, but this weekend had been a long and active one, so he was very tired.

And seeing as he was indeed Akaashi’s son, he was also very blunt.

“Come on buddy, let’s go take a nap. I know you’re tired.” Akaashi tried to coax his son to come with him, eye brows furrowing when his son shook his head and refused.

“Why not?” his son pouted as he looked up to his father.

“Cause I want uncle bokuto…” Akaashi frowned as he kneeled in front of his son, “I know, but he’ll be back to visit soon.”

His son shook his head, “No, I want him now, I want him to tuck me in.” One of Akaashi’s eyebrows rose, his head tilting to the side abit, “Why Uncle Bokuto? Why not daddy?”

His son sighed, “Because I don’t like you, I like Uncle Bokuto.” Before he trudged off towards his room, dragging his blue blanket behind him, leaving Akaashi speechless and betrayed.

You wasted no time in assuring Akaashi that ‘he didn’t mean it!’ and that ‘he probably won’t even remember it when he wakes up’. But that didn’t do much to sooth the seething pain of your first born betraying you✌😔

Washio Tatsuki:

Washio was outside with the kids, watching over them while they played.

You were inside, talking on the phone with your mom and sipping a cup of tea/coffee.

You were flipping through a magazine, laughing at a memory your mom had brought up, when the front door burst open.

Turning around, the smile on your face dropped when you saw Washio holding your youngest (3 yr old son), who was balling his eyes out.

Apologizing to your mom you stood up from the couch, immediately walking over to them.

“What happened?? Did he get hurt?” Washio sighed as he gently handed him off to you, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head.

“I don’t know, he won’t tell me. All I know is he’s scared, but he won’t tell me what scared him.”

You frowned as you held your little boy, cradling his head against your chest as you slowly rocked back and forth, whispering words of comfort into his ear and kissing the crown of his head.

Eventually, he stopped crying, he was still a bit sniffly and had a few hiccups, but he had settled down quite a bit.

You sat down on the couch with him on your lap, Washio standing after he had brought the twins in as well.

“Wanna tell me what scared you baby?”

Your little boy looked at you, slate gray eyes shimmering with tears as he wiped his cheek before turning to look up at your husband.

He pointed a little finger, “Daddy, daddy’s scary.” He then proceeded to dive back into you, head snuggling into your neck.

You quickly looked up to see your husband's eyes widen as his jaw dropped, looking down to your son in complete and utter disbelief.

It broke your heart the way he clung to you that night, head buried in your chest as he quietly asked if he was a good father, conclusion: kids can be cruel…

Please don’t hate me, i guarantee this hurt me more than it hurt you

Konoha Akinori:

You had brought out old videos from Konoha and yours high school years, wanting to show them to your kids since they were curious. And you and Konoha had wanted to trip down memory lane anyway.

You had chosen a game of Fukurodani vs Nekoma, since those were always good ones.

Your kids were more than entertained to watch it, since dad had long hair?!?!?

They also liked seeing some familiar faces, like Komi and Saru and others obviously.

But one of your children found a specific moment a little...too funny.

It had been a rough match, and a close one as Konoha had remembered it. Akaashi had been subbed out after a ball caught his nail, Washio had very minorly twisted his ankle, and Bokuto had already gone through 2 emo modes, the 3rd not far away.

Konoha had been getting over a cold, he was no longer sick but he wasn’t at 100% yet, so he wasn’t completely in it.

Not to mention he had to make up for the absence of both Akaashi AND Washio.

It was half way through the second set, he was in the back and Yamamoto was up to spike, only Konoha wasn’t expecting Yamamoto not to hit and instead for Kuroo to come up from the back, meaning the ball his Konoha right in the face, knocking him down on his butt.

You all kinda laughed at that part, I mean, who wouldn’t? (don’t lie-)

But what you didn’t expect was a full on demonic cackle coming from your 3 year old who was sat in between you and your husband.

It wasn’t a chuckle, or even a laugh, IT DIDN’T EVEN SOUND LIKE YOUR 3 YEAR OLD!!

It was...unsettling, and when she bounced back not 2 minutes later, you snuck a glance over to your husband, who was slowly scooting away.

Kita Shinsuke:

Kita came in from the fields, closing the door and slipping off his shoes, stretching his hands above his head as he groaned.

He smiled when he heard little foot steps echoing through out the hallway, watching as his little girl ran towards him and into his arms.

He smiled wider when you walked out of the nursery, little baby in your arms as you came up to him and gave him a kiss.

Time skip to dinner that night, all 4 of you are sat at the dinner table.

Kita is sat at his usual spot on the end, you sitting to his right as his daughter sat to his left, you feeding the baby.

He put down his fork to rub his neck, fingers trying to work out the knots that had formed over the past few days.

“You know, granny and I are going to get massages this weekend, why don’t you join us? Gin said he’d be willing to watch the kids.” Kita smiled towards you as he nodded.

“That’d probably be a good idea, thanks honey”

You nodded as you continued to feed your youngest, sending silly faces and smiling at her little giggles.

Kita was about to continue eating when his oldest daughter asked him a question.

“Hey daddy? Why do you need a mass-age.” He chuckled at the way his daughter said massage, going back to eating.

“I’m goin’ cause my neck is sore sweetheart, it’s just from work, nothin’ to worry bout.”

Your daughter nodded, returning her attention to her plate as well.

“So, basically, daddy’s just really, really old.”

You turned away so your husband wouldn’t see your smile, and it worked until you snorted and started laughing.

His small glare towards you only making you laugh harder.

“It’s not bad daddy, you’re just really old, but s’okay, I still love you.”

He shook his head, eating the rest of his dinner with a pout as your daughter carried on like nothing happened and you explained why she shouldn’t say those things.

Suna Rintaro:

Suna was sat on the couch with his oldest son and daughter, watching a movie.

Obviously it wasn’t scary or inappropriate for children, I mean, it was a kids movie. But he had to admit, this one was cutting it a little close.

He would have turned it off but...it really wasn’t that bad and the kids were sitting quietly and watching it, so he figured it’d be okay.

His kids weren’t exactly squeamish, and they didn’t scare easy, but they were also only 8 and 6, so he wasn’t going to risk it.

He also didn’t want to risk it with you, he had a comfy bed and he’d prefer to continue to sleep in it😊

Sometime after the half way point of the movie, a scene came up that was questionably violent for a kids movie. There wasn’t any gore or anything, but it wasn’t a clean death either.

He reached for the remote to change it when his kids started giggling.

Not like uncomfortable awkward chuckles, I mean real and sincere laughter...AND SOME DUDE HAD JUST DIED?!?!?!

Suna texted you with a ‘please help, our children are demons’ as he tried to return his focus to the movie and not his snickering children.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

Ushijima had just picked 3 of his kids up from school, and was taking them home.

His 2 oldests were talking to each other about school while his youngest (of the 3, not in all), just sat quietly and listened to the radio.

His oldest had asked about his day, and Ushijima told him all about his practice and the practice games they played.

The 2 oldests were entranced, and loved hearing about the sport, his middlest however did not.

It’s not like he hated the sport, but it wasn’t really for him. He much preferred martial arts to volleyball, which was fine with Ushijima, at least his son was happy!

Anyway, Ushijima and his 2 oldests started to talk all about volleyball, the middlest looking confused.

“Wait, why is it like that?” Ushijima peaked in the rearview mirror, “It’s the rules, like how there are rules in Jujitsu.”

Your middlest turned towards the window, “Yeah, but Jujitsu is cool, volleyball sucks.”

Ushijima almost crashed, and it wasn’t long before he got home, pulled into the drive way, parked, and turned to face his middlest with a face that said ‘where did I go wrong…?’

His son just turned to face him, “What?” Ushijima shook his head, turned off the car and headed inside.

When he got inside and walked past you, all you heard was him muttering ‘no child of mine will say that about…’ as he headed straight for the bedroom to lie down.

Yahaba Shigeru:

Yahaba was walking around the living room, sorting through the mail as he separated bills and important things from junk mail.

He had been working in his office all day, doing paper work and what not, and right now he had his ear buds in since he was technically in a work meeting. (muted with the camera off cause how else do you do things virtual?)

So he was completely unsuspecting of his two sons as they snuck up behind him, both holding nerf guns in their hands as they crept closer and closer.

Yahaba had paused, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he started to talk to his coworkers about something when all of a sudden the unmistakable whirring of the automatic nerf gun started.

Before he could even turn around his sons had open fired right on their dad, Yahaba yelping as he started to run, grabbing a pillow from the couch as he fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to mute himself between being pelted with nerf bullets.

“ACK- hEy! You two! Quit it!-” He had made himself a shield out of the couch cushions, finally getting his phone and apologizing to his giggling coworkers, he wasn’t in trouble obviously, the distraction and entertainment was a gift to them all.

The meeting then finally ended, and Yahaba turned to find his sons searching for bullets, him shaking his head as he walked towards them.

“Nice try boys, but I collected the bullets as you shot me, so there’ll be no more of that.” His youngest shrugged as he then decided to instead throw the toy at Yahaba, his oldest then hitting him with it as he shrieked and made his way to the master bedroom.

Iwaizumi Hajime:

You and Iwaizumi had 3 boys.

3 boys who were close in age and high in energy, never a great combo when they’re stuck indoors because of the rain.

You had been taking a nap due to a weather-related head ache, while Iwaizumi did some work from home.

He had heard some questionable sounds coming from the basement, but he didn’t pay them any mind, figuring they were just being kids.

That is until he heard a distinct ‘ow!’ from his middlest.

Walking down the stairs he could hear his youngest chanting something like ‘fight! Fight! Fight!’ which obviously made him move faster.

He rounded the corner to see his oldest and middlest in the middle of a circle, each with one of his boxing gloves on as they circled each other.

“The heck are you guys doing??” They all turned to face him, that was when he noticed they had drawn on themselves to, what he guessed, look like pro-wrestlers, the basement was also a mess.

“Having a cage match, it’s 2 for 2 so far, this round decides the world-class-gladiator-basement-fight-to-the-death match, and the loser gets sacrificed.”

He almost let it go as his boys were being normal boys, until the last part hit him.

“Wait- what?! Sacrificed to who?!” His son giggled, “I don’t know, it’s only pretend, daddy.” Deciding he could no longer bear their empty stares he made them clean up the basement before spending the next 1 ½ hours cleaning off marker.

Futakuchi Kenji:

You guys had taken your 3 girls to the park to have a play-date/picnic with Aone and his wife/kids.

You were sitting and chatting away with his wife, while Aone and Futakuchi talked about their high school days, Aone gladly telling Futakuchi’s embarrassing moments.

Your youngest daughter was 3, and so far it has proven to be the worst of any age they had experienced yet.

Or rather...he had experienced yet.

For you, she was a perfect little angel, sweet and giggly, super cuddly and very much a momma’s girl.

But towards her daddy? She held nothing but malice. She would often smack him and run away to you giggling, or scrunch her nose up at him when he tried to get a hug or kiss.

You guys didn’t know what brought on this sudden hatred, but you were sure it would pass someday.

Your baby girl had waddled up to the picnic blanket and plopped herself down on your lap, playing with some nearby grass as the more adults continued to talk.

Deciding to try his luck, Futakuchi got the attention of your daughter.

“Hey, why don’t you come sit in Daddy’s lap.”

Your daughter turned towards him and shook her head, “No.”

Futakuchi pouted, “Why not?” Your little girl huffed as she only turned her head this time.

“Because I don’t even like you dada.” She then plopped her head back down on your chest while you and Mrs. Aone started laughing and Futakuchi’s face showed only pain.

“hEy! I helped make you, the least you can show me is some gratitude!” Your youngest only stuck her tongue out at him, causing an audible chuckle out of Aone and more pain for Futakuchi.

Daishou Suguru:

When you and Daishou had your first child, your daughter, you never had a hard time getting her to sleep.

But for some reason, lately she had been getting out of her bed in the middle of the night, with seemingly no reason.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Daishou loves his little girl.

But sometimes...kids can be creepy, and yours were no different.

When she woke up at these awful hours of the night, she’d just go to you guys’ room and...stand there...she wouldn’t say anything, just stand there with her teddy bear in one arm and the other hanging limply at her side.

It was almost 3 am, so naturally Daishou had long since been asleep.

He had just rolled over to the edge of the bed to grab some water when he almost screamed.

Standing right there was his daughter, just standing there, watching him.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“I- go back to sleep, it’s late.” Your daughter just nodded, turned around, and walked out of your room and back into her own.

Heart still beating out of his chest he got his sip of water, laid back down and tried to go to sleep, which proved difficult with the blank stare of his child still stuck in his mind.

Numai Kazuma:

You, Numai, and your 4 children had taken a road trip as your big summer vacation.

Currently, you were all driving through this cute little town on the out skirts of one of the cities.

Two of your boys were sleeping, one reading his picture book, and your youngest and only girl was looking out the window.

You had taken a turn driving while Numai had taken a small nap, although he had woken up a little bit ago.

You guys had gotten to the outskirts of this small town, and were coming up on a cemetery.

Your daughter was 4, so she knew what a cemetery was. You guys weren’t too worried, she had grown up with 3 older brothers so things like bugs or ghost stories never really bothered her too much.

You and Numai had started talking to each other when you heard your daughter speak up.

“Hey mommy, hey daddy,” You took a peak into the rear-view mirror, your husband turning to look at his daughter.

“Yeah baby? What is it?” Your husband asked as he smiled towards his little girl.

Smiling, she turned towards the window and pointed to the cemetery.

“That’s where all the dead people are.”

Numai blinked as he just nodded and turned back around in his seat, slumping down as his eyes held a certain ‘deer in headlights’ look, slowly turning to see you as he pointed towards your daughter than to you.

“That came from your genes, not mine-” He winced when you slapped his arm, shaking your head as you too tried to erase the utter creepiness you were feeling after that.

Iizuna Tsukasa:

Iizuna yawned as he walked out of the master bedroom, having just woken up from a 3 hour nap.

Today had been a particularly intense game, which they had won, but had left him exhausted.

You were downstairs in the bathroom, working on washing the magic-marker your other children had put there off of your 10 month old baby while your 2 oldests were upstairs in time out where you left them.

Iizuna walked through the hallway, smiling as he heard his two oldests talking and playing. Or at least, it sounded like they were playing.

Recently, your oldest, your daughter who’s barely 4 and your son who just turned 2 had been bickering all the time, fighting over toys and had resorted to pinching.

When you had caught them and put them in time out, Iizuna was dead asleep, so he didn’t know his kids were supposed to be in timeout, and at the ages they were at it wasn’t unusual to see them play together.

Turning the corner his smile dropped as he sprinted towards his kids, watching in horror as his oldest pushed the middlest down the stairs, simply watching as her brother tumbled as Iizuna lost 10 years of his life.

Quickly scolding his daughter he ran down the stairs and carefully grabbed your son, who thankfully had no injuries, heart beating out of his chest as he sighed.

You, having heard tumbles and then tears, speedily rounded the corner with your now marker-free child in your arms.

It was safe to say neither of you knew how to respond to that, your oldest simply waving from the top of the stairs as Iizuna now has a significant amount of trauma.

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah!

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

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