#and she said I should go away because it's not like it's a big thing

[superbreadsoul]

SO TAKE MY HEART AND DON'T LOOK BACK

DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

DOUBLE DISCLAIMER!!: DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS!!

Warning: Matt is emotionally constipated, but he makes up for it. Slightly spicy (I don’t know how to write smut). Karen appearence (with a conversation that i feel Matt and Karen should have had imo, I wrote it for my own peace of mind for them; they deserved a better ending) Mentions of death. Awkward, silly moments.

Matt Murdock x Reader

WORD COUNT: 13630

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt sat on the couch, his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He knew, deep down, that he had no real reason to be upset with her. She’d only reacted because she cared. That much was obvious. She’d seen the bruises, the way he was pushing himself too hard, and she’d tried to do what she always did—look out for him. But somehow, he’d managed to twist it all into something else.

The fight had escalated, like all their fights seemed to do, and it was his fault. He could admit that much. But it wasn’t easy. Acknowledging that he’d been reckless, that maybe the wound was worse than he’d let on—it didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like feeling weak.

And yet, he was still too stubborn to say the words. To apologize. His pride was too big, too loud. It always was.

He wasn’t angry with her—not really. He was angry at himself. For snapping. For not hearing the worry in her voice and instead turning it into something he could fight against. But he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to ask her to stay without feeling like he was losing himself. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He reached out, took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A silent apology. A reminder that he was there, even if the words wouldn’t come.

Y/N sat beside him, her gaze distant, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. She knew Matt. She knew the stubbornness that ran through him like a river. But it didn’t make the silence any easier to bear.

She’d tried. She had. She’d tried to help, to make him see that he didn’t have to do everything on his own, that maybe this time—this time—he could let someone in. But all he’d done was push her away, like he always did.

When his hand squeezed hers, she sighed. She knew what it meant. The apology that wasn’t said, the one that hung in the air between them. She could read it in the way his fingers tightened around hers, like he was holding on to something precious, something fragile.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice soft, tired. "I know."

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to offer. And somehow, that was enough for her, for now.

Matt was the kind of man who could never admit when he was wrong, even though she knew—she knew—he was. He’d been selfish, pushing her away when all she’d wanted to do was care. And she was frustrated. Frustrated with him, with herself, with the way they always ended up here. But still, she stayed. Still, she held his hand.

When she finally stood to leave, she did so slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. Her jacket was on the table. She reached for it, already halfway to the door, already preparing herself to walk out.

His heart sank when she moved, when she pulled away. He couldn’t let her go—not like this. Not when everything still felt broken between them. Not when he hadn’t even found the courage to say the one thing he knew he should.

"You don’t have to go," he said, a little too quickly, his voice betraying the desperation he was trying so hard to hide. It was pathetic how quickly the words left his mouth. He cursed himself silently under his breath.

But then he gathered himself, his voice softening, more certain this time. "Stay."

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. It was a demand, quiet but firm, as if he knew that the only way he could keep her there, keep her close, was to speak with the same force he used when he fought his demons.

She paused, her hand still on the jacket, her back turned to him. His voice, raw and vulnerable, made her stop. She turned slowly, her face betraying her frustration but also something else. Something she wasn’t sure she could name.

"Why?" she asked, the word sharp with a frustration she couldn’t hide.

Matt didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, his sightless gaze steady, and his hand still holding hers with a strength that made her heart skip a beat.

"Because I don’t want you to go," he said, the words raw, genuine, and completely unguarded.

There it was. The admission he’d been avoiding all this time. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to be alone again. Not when she was the only person who ever saw through his walls, who ever cared enough to fight with him when he couldn’t fight for himself.

His grip tightened just a little, as if he was afraid that if he let go, she’d slip away for good.

She could feel the change in him. The way his stubbornness was cracking, piece by piece. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to leave. Maybe it was because he’d finally said what he hadn’t been able to say before, or maybe it was just the silent promise in the way his hand still held hers. But whatever it was, it was enough.

She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she stepped closer, her hand still in his. The fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But maybe, just maybe, they could start again.

"Why?" She asked, her voice cutting through the tension that hung thick between them. The question was simple, but the weight of it was enough to crush him. She wanted the truth, and Matt had no idea how to give it to her.

“Because I—” He started, but he stopped himself, the words caught in his throat. His chest tightened as he tried to look at her with his sightless eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t hide behind his pride. He didn’t want to admit the real reason. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared. Scared of her leaving. Scared of losing her.

But he couldn’t say that. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable like that, not even with her. Vulnerability had always been a weakness, and Matt wasn’t ready to show her that side of himself. Not now, not ever.

After a long, painful silence, he finally shook his head.

"Just don’t go. Please." His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but the desperation was clear. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was pleading. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her.

The room felt suffocating, thick with tension that neither of them could seem to shake. He stood there, his body stiff, his gaze shifting away from hers as if he could avoid the inevitable storm brewing between them. She was waiting for him to speak, her eyes pleading for honesty.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling, desperate for the truth. “Why are you acting like this?”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, strangling him. He never had been good at this. Never been good at admitting anything that left him vulnerable, that laid bare the mess inside of him. The truth felt like a heavy weight pressing on his chest, suffocating him. He didn’t want to admit that the thought of losing her—of her walking out of his life—scared him to his core. He didn’t want to admit that he was terrified, that he was weak.

He stayed silent for a few moments, the tension between them thickening, before he finally shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just don’t go. Please.”

It wasn’t enough. She could feel it. His words were a plea, but they weren’t the truth she needed to hear. She shook her head, pulling away from him gently, her frustration building.

“No. Not good enough,” she said firmly, her voice steady, but her heart was pounding.

Matt’s jaw tightened at her rejection. His hand shot out to catch her wrist, keeping her close. He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt, how she could break through all the walls he’d so carefully built. But he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. Not before he said something—anything—that would stop her from leaving.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice broke with a sharp edge, a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how weak he felt, how vulnerable. He wanted to fix it, to make everything okay again, but he had no idea how.

“Just talk to me! Tell me the truth!” she snapped back, her eyes flashing with frustration.

“The truth?!” His anger flared up at her words, his frustration boiling over. “The truth is I don’t want you to leave. The truth is that I hate it when you leave. The truth is, I hate when you get mad at me, and I hate that I’m constantly worried that you’re mad at me!”

His voice was louder now, his words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. The weight of the truth, the ugly truth, was finally crashing down on him, and he hated it.

Her eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, she was silent. She had to collect herself before the words came tumbling out, fierce and unforgiving. “Have you ever considered that I do that because I care about you? How am I not supposed to worry when I don’t know if one day I’m gonna call you and you’re not gonna pick up the phone?” She took a deep breath, her voice rising. “Because that sure as hell has happened before, Matt!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Of course, he’d thought about it. All the time. He knew the worry in her voice was because she cared. He knew that her anger was just a reflection of the love she had for him, of the fear that came from him pushing her away when she only wanted to help.

But it didn’t make it any easier.

“Do you think I like worrying you?” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Do you think I like pushing you away?”

“That’s not the point, Matt!” She groaned in frustration, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“Then what is?” His voice rose again, the anger returning with a vengeance. He stepped forward, his chest tight, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he was losing control of everything, of the situation, of himself.

“You want me to admit that I hate being alone? That I hate fighting with you? That I hate being scared? That I’m terrified that one day, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, and it’ll be my fault?” His words were sharp, each one a jagged piece of truth he couldn’t stop from falling out. He pushed himself off the couch, pacing in frustration, his steps quick and unsteady.

“Yes!” She shouted back, the urgency in her voice matching his. “I want you to remember that you’re still human, Matt! I want you to realize that you’re not invincible; you’re not untouchable! You’re just a man, and it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to need someone. It’s okay to be vulnerable!”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Matt’s breath came in heavy gasps, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but something else was there too—something softer, something more fragile. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. Instead, he stood there, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I know that!” His voice was tight, barely contained. “Don’t you think I know that?” He turned to face her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t you think I know that sometimes I can’t win? That I get scared? That I’m afraid of losing you and not even knowing why it’s happening?”

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, and he could feel the cracks in his composure, the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. His sightless gaze dropped almost in shame, feeling his hands shake uncontrollably. The control was slipping away, and for the first time in so long, he didn’t know how to stop it.

She moved toward him, slow, deliberate. The soft sound of her steps on the hardwood floor was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. When she reached him, she didn’t say a word. Instead, her hand, warm and steady, gently touched his arm. That single touch was enough to send him spiraling. Without thinking, without hesitation, Matt’s body moved, a magnetic force driving him forward.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, pressing her tightly against his chest as if her presence was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely. The familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin—it was a comfort he never realized he craved until this very moment.

She could feel him shaking, his breath uneven as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of her shirt like it was the last thing holding him together. He held on with desperate, almost frantic strength, as though he might disappear if he let go for even a second. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

"Matt," she whispered softly, her voice like a balm to his tortured soul.

His grip tightened at the sound of her voice. Her words pierced through the fog of his emotions, breaking through the walls he had built around himself. She wasn’t going anywhere. He could feel the promise in her touch, in the way she held him. It was a promise that made the suffocating weight in his chest lift, just a little, enough for him to breathe again.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, the sound of it so quiet, so raw, it almost broke her heart.

"I’m sorry," Matt muttered, the words ragged and raw, the kind of apology that didn’t come easily for him. The kind of apology that felt like swallowing shards of glass.

She didn’t pull away from him, didn’t ask him to say more. Instead, she simply nodded against his shoulder, a gentle pat on his back as if to tell him it was okay.

"I know, Matty," she whispered back, her voice firm but soft, as if to reassure him that she understood.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he forced himself to speak again. His voice, barely above a whisper, came out muffled against her shoulder. "I can’t promise it won’t happen again... but I’ll try."

Her heart was stung at his words, tears threatening to fall. She nodded, her breath shaky. She understood more than he knew, but she swallowed her protest. She didn’t need more than this. "Okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Matt’s hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible. His arms wrapped around her with a kind of desperation, a need to hold on to something real, something constant in a world that felt like it was crumbling. She was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely broken.

"I don’t like fighting with you," he confessed, his voice barely audible, the words vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

Her heart broke for him at that moment. "I don’t like fighting with you either," she admitted softly, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.

In the silence that followed, all the words left unsaid lingered between them, but none of it mattered. They didn’t need to say anything more. The way they held each other, the way they clung to one another, spoke louder than any apology or promise ever could.

The silence between them was deafening, thick with unsaid words and unspoken truths. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he watched her, hoping for the one thing he needed to hear. He could hear the way her heartbeat spiked at the admission, the way her breath hitched when she spoke, a subtle tremor in her voice betraying the sincerity in her words. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

He needed more. He needed to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, the only one who had been clinging to a fragile thread of hope for far too long. He was a hypocrite, stubborn, selfish—everything he hated about himself. But right now, he just wanted to hear her say it. He needed the reassurance that they were both fighting for the same thing.

“Then why do we always end up fighting?” His voice cracked on the last word, the question hanging in the air like an accusation, yet a plea all the same.

She took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Because we care too damn much.” The words were gentle, but the truth in them hit him like a punch to the gut.

And that was just another thing that made Matt hate himself. Because it was him, it was always him who started the arguments. He was the one who snapped at her, who pushed her away when what he wanted was to pull her closer. He was the one who let the tension escalate to the point where he couldn’t take it back—just like he had done tonight.

“Yeah.” Matt’s response was a quiet, bitter laugh—more like a breath of self-loathing than anything else. It wasn’t aimed at her but at himself. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her away, from destroying the very thing he was desperate to hold on to.

She pulled away slightly, her hands reaching up to cup his cheeks, her touch so tender it almost broke him. “You know I would never actually walk away from you, right?” she asked softly, concern flooding her expression.

“Unless I push you too far.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, bitter and hard. His hand came up to rest over hers, his thumb slowly tracing the back of her hand, as though that simple touch could ground him.

“I do stupid things,” Matt continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I push people away when I shouldn’t. I push you away when I shouldn’t.”

She looked at him, her eyes soft yet unwavering. “Hey,” she said firmly, her voice low but steady, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, half-hearted smile, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He wanted to believe her, wanted to take her words for what they were, but doubt gnawed at him. How could she promise that? He couldn’t even promise it to himself. He always found a way to mess things up. He always found a way to push her away.

“How do you know that?” His voice cracked, the bitterness seeping through again. “How can you guarantee that I won’t push you past the breaking point?”

Her hands moved to the back of his neck, fingers curling gently into his skin as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. “Because—” she paused, her gaze intense, unwavering, “because it’s you.”

Matt’s breath caught at her words, and a shiver ran down his spine. She didn’t just say it; she meant it. He could see it in the way she held him, in the certainty in her voice.

“I can’t imagine—not spending a single minute with you,” she whispered, her words a quiet promise.

Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her words sank deep into him, resonating through every fiber of his being. His hands moved instinctively, lifting to grab her wrists, holding her hands in place against his neck. He needed to feel her, needed to ground himself in her presence.

“Y/N…” His voice was gentle, barely more than a murmur, as his head lifted slightly from her shoulder, gaze trying to lock with hers. The intensity of the moment, of the weight of her words, was almost too much to bear.

“I know.” Her voice was soft, filled with a quiet understanding. “I know—and it’s okay.” She smiled gently, a little sad, but accepting. “I’ve never asked you for anything—not to feel the way I’ve felt—and that’s okay.”

The words made Matt’s chest ache. He wanted to say so much, to tell her everything that he was too afraid to admit, but the knot in his throat tightened. He couldn’t find the right words. His pride kept him silent, kept him from saying what he needed to say.

“I just…” She trailed off, her hands sliding off his neck as she gave him a look that was filled with hope and weariness. “I just don’t want you to push me away, Matt. That’s all I’m asking.”

And there it was—the simple truth of it. The very thing that had been eating away at him for so long. She could see right through him. She always had. She always knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he was feeling. And it made him hate himself a little more, for the walls he had built up, for the distance he had tried to create.

“It’s not that easy,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, the frustration heavy in his voice.

Her smile was weak but understanding. She didn’t argue. She didn’t have to. She knew.

Matt swallowed hard as her hands slipped away from him, the warmth of her touch fading with each inch that separated them. His heart raced in his chest, panicked and uncertain. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back, to tell her everything that had been sitting inside of him for far too long.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the unsaid words that hung between them like a suffocating fog. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. As she stepped back, her face flushed with embarrassment, and he felt the impulse to stop her, to keep her close.

"I um—I’m gonna go make some tea," she muttered, her voice faltering in dejection, and that was enough for him to snap.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grab her arm, preventing her from moving any further.

“Wait.”

The word slipped out more forcefully than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He softened his touch, trying to calm himself, but his fingers still gripped her arm firmly. He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat under his hand, and it only made his pulse quicken.

Her gaze flickered down to his hand, her eyes searching his, full of confusion. “Why?”

The question was quiet, small, and it made his stomach turn. Matt tried to gather his thoughts, the words jumbled and scattered in his mind. Everything he had been holding back, everything he’d been too afraid to say, felt like it was fighting to escape all at once.

"Because I'm not done talking." His voice was a harsh whisper, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. “I’m not even close to being done talking. I still have so much more to say.”

Her eyes never left his, and her voice was soft but full of anticipation. "Then say it, Matty."

The floodgates of his mind opened, and the words tumbled out faster than he could stop them. But even as his heart raced, he hesitated. This was it. This was the moment. Everything he had been afraid to admit for so long was right there on the tip of his tongue. And it terrified him. But there was one sentence, one thought that stood out from the rest, one truth that he had been too scared to face—until now.

“I think I’m in love with you.” His voice was barely a whisper, so soft that it almost seemed to be swallowed by the space between them. But the moment the words left his lips, his heart nearly stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.

Her breath hitched, and Matt could feel it—the way her heart skipped a beat. He could hear the stunned silence in her breath, the way she stopped breathing altogether for a second. Her eyes roamed over his face, searching for something, anything, to anchor herself. But the longer she stayed silent, the more his chest tightened, the more the doubt crept in.

Did I mess this up?

His anxiety surged, his thoughts spiraling out of control. Was she going to laugh? Was she going to walk away? His heart raced, too fast, too hard.

"Did—Did you hear me?" Her voice was small, shaky, the nervous tremor cutting through her words. He could tell she was struggling just as much as he was.

"I heard you." The words came out quietly, almost as a reassurance to herself more than to him, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart pounded in his chest. His hands were shaking, and she could barely bring herself to look him in the eyes.

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

Her words were blunt, cutting through the air between them like a knife. She was angry now, and Matt felt it in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t blame her—he was angry, too. But more than that, he was terrified.

He needed to know if she felt the same. If his feelings weren’t just some foolish mistake that he had made.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Great. Fantastic. Matt’s frustration bubbled up to the surface, bitterness creeping into his tone. “I just confessed my feelings, and you don’t know?”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly, not consciously, but because his emotions were getting the best of him. He hated himself for sounding bitter, for lashing out at her. But the fear—the uncertainty—was eating away at him.

Her face softened, her eyes filled with something close to guilt. “I’m—confused—I don’t know. Matt—” She sighed, a heavy, distressed breath that seemed to carry all of her doubts. “I don’t know what to say.”

Matt’s frustration grew as he pushed himself to stand a little straighter, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “Confused about what? You’re too vague. I don’t know what that means—that’s not—I don’t know what to do with that.”

The bitterness in his voice made him cringe. He hated how he sounded—angry, frustrated, and broken all at once. It wasn’t her fault. It had never been her fault. And yet, he was so terrified of the unknown that he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.

But then, she snapped back at him, her words sharp and laced with her hurt.

“Maybe I’m confused because I’ve spent the last 12 years being in love with you, and now, suddenly, you’re telling me that you’re magically in love with me?” She practically spit the last part, the frustration and pain in her eyes impossible to ignore.

Matt staggered back as if her words had physically knocked the wind out of him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and for the first time, he could hear the toll it had taken on her, too. He had pushed her away, ignored her feelings, and now he was finally standing here, confessing when it was almost too late.

“I—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. Everything he wanted to say felt inadequate. The silence between them was deafening again, and Matt wasn’t sure what came next. All he knew was that he had just told her the truth—after years of hiding it. And now… now he had to face the consequences of his fears.

Matt's hands were still trembling from the confession he had just laid bare, but before he could fully process the weight of it, something in her eyes caught him off guard.

His voice, quiet and full of a strange mix of disbelief and sadness, cut through the air like a knife.

“Say that again.”

Her words hung there, almost suspended in time, as though she couldn’t believe what she had just said. Her eyes widened, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking, that he might take it all back. But the quick pounding of her heart and the sweat pooling at the back of her neck made his heart ache.

His throat constricted. He could barely believe the words that had left her mouth, the confession that had slipped out before he could stop it. “I—” He stopped, his breath catching. “You’ve been... in love with me for 12 years?”

His voice cracked slightly, his chest tightening as he spoke. The enormity of it hit him harder than he had imagined. His mind raced as he tried to understand how it was possible—how it could have gone unnoticed for so long.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

She scoffed bitterly, a sad laugh escaping her lips. “Are you kidding?” Her voice trembled. “We grew up together, Matt. I watched you go out with tons of girls during our friendship. You never once felt that way about me, not like the other girls.” She sniffled, looking away to blink the unshed tears from her eyes before she looked back at him. “Then came Elektra—and Karen, Jennifer,” she added softly, her voice breaking at the mention of the names.

The moment the name "Elektra" left her lips, something inside Matt snapped. He stepped forward quickly, his hands moving to grip her shoulders as he tried to steady himself. The memory of Elektra—her influence on Matt’s life, her hold over him—was still too raw, still too fresh.

"Don't bring her up," he hissed, his voice low and bitter, the anger rising in his chest at the thought of Elektra’s name being associated with anything that had to do with him and her.

But she shook her head, shoving his hands off her shoulders with more force than he had expected. “Our history will never matter to you because she has a hold on your life that you just can’t seem to shake, Matt,” she spat, her words dripping with hurt and frustration.

Matt recoiled slightly, his jaw clenching as her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. She was right. He had never truly let go of Elektra—he had always been bound by her memory, even if he didn’t want to admit it. And now, here was the woman he had loved, standing in front of him, pouring her heart out. And what was he doing? Pushing her away.

"I said don't—" He cut himself off, his frustration boiling over. “Not tonight. Not when I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you,” he said, his words coming out sharp and desperate. “Can’t you see that?”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was nothing but raw, unfiltered emotion between them. Her voice was quieter this time, and her anger had faded into something else entirely. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft, almost broken. “Because it reminds you of who you’re really in love with? Because I’m just a safety net to you?”

Matt’s chest tightened as his sightless gaze softened, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to lock onto hers.

"You're nothing like her," he said, his voice fierce and passionate. "You're a safety net? Are you kidding me?" He took another step closer, the words coming faster now, each one a truth he had kept buried for far too long. “You’re the only reason I’m still sane. You’re the only reason I can keep going after everything—the fights, the broken bones, the nightmares. You’re the reason I’m still here. And you think you’re just a safety net? You think you're some kind of replacement?"

Her eyes were wide, misty with emotion, and she faltered as if she couldn’t understand. “I don’t know what to think, Matt,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly.

Matt swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe as he tried to push down the swirling emotions that threatened to overtake him. He needed her to understand. He needed her to know that he had never, in any way, seen her as second best.

Then, with a deep breath, he took her hand carefully and brought it to his chest. His heartbeat was frantic against his ribs, pounding in his ears. "Let me tell you what I think,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability. "I think I’m terrified. And I think I’m tired. And I wonder..." he trailed off, his eyes searching hers. "Why didn’t you ever give up on me?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her response.

Matt’s chest heaved, and he took another step forward, his heart bare, exposed for her to see. “You’ve known me since we were eleven—since we were still kids. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You’ve seen me at my lowest, when I was broken and angry and lost. And you stayed. Why?”

Her eyes softened, the sorrow and longing evident in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of years of unspoken feelings.

Matt wasn’t done yet. "So the next time you ask yourself why I’m in love with you, the answer is everything," he whispered, bringing her hand gently to rest over his frantically beating heart. "I love everything about you. You’re my best friend. You know me like no one else ever could, and you’re still here. Still with me."

His heart was racing now, the words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. "I love that you’re stubborn. I love that you’re a sarcastic little shit half the time. I love that you push me to be better, that you tease me for always being so serious.” He moved closer, his voice barely audible. “I love that you’re braver than I am, smarter than I am. I love the way you stand up to me, to everyone. I love that you make me laugh. I love the way your voice sounds when you laugh.”

Her gaze never left his, and Matt could feel the power of her love, the depth of it, in the way she looked at him.

“I love your hands. I love the way they feel against my skin. I love the way you touch me,” he said, his voice growing softer, more intimate with every word.

Her hand rested on his chest, and Matt’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt the weight of her touch. He shivered at the sensation, the feeling of her closeness overwhelming him in the best way.

"I love the sound of your heartbeat," he whispered, his hand tightening around hers. "I love the way you smell. I love the way you—you feel. I love that I’m not afraid when I’m with you."

Her thumb pressed gently into his bottom lip, and his breath hitched again. The moment her hand touched him, everything inside him unraveled.

"Matty..." she whispered, her voice low and soft.

Matt’s heart skipped a beat as his unseeing gaze looked down at her, his eyes full of everything he had kept hidden for so long. "I love the sound of your voice when you say my name."

Her lips brushed his thumb, and Matt’s world tilted on its axis.

With no more words, no more hesitation, he pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Her body pressed against his, and he let her feel the frantic beating of his heart, the raw emotion that he could no longer keep inside.

"I love the way you say my name like you’re the only one that ever could," Matt whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I love everything about you."

She held him close, her hands threading into the back of his head, pulling him tighter as she whispered, "I love you."

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. They were finally, truly, together.

The world around them faded into a mere whisper, the clamor of everything else falling away as their lips met. The second he felt her warmth pressing against him, a rush of longing poured through Matt, igniting a fierce fire that he had kept buried for far too long. Her whisper of a whimper sent shivers down his spine, and he responded instinctively, grabbing onto her even tighter, his hands clutching her waist as he pressed his mouth against hers with a fervor that both startled and thrilled him.

This kiss was different—it was electric. Gone were the gentle caresses of earlier moments; this was fast and frantic, a raw desperation that filled the air between them. It was rough, a wild clash of passion that felt as though they were reclaiming every unspoken feeling that had built up inside them over the years. It was everything he had yearned for, a tumult of emotions spilling out where words had failed. 

“Matty—” Her voice came out as a soft whine, strained and filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability, wrestling against the warmth of his arms. The sound pulled him back from the edge of his fervor, an uncharted territory where he feared losing himself entirely.

He felt the sobering weight of her tone, and his heart raced—not with passion now, but with sudden concern. “Are you okay—do you need me to stop?” He breathed the words into the space between them, his grip instinctively loosening, releasing her just enough to gauge her reaction, tension coiling in his chest as his unseeing gaze searched her eyes for reassurance.

The moment she met his gaze, the desperation in her voice wrapped around him like a lifeline. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, urgency lacing her words, and instantly, a wave of relief crashed over him, the anxiety in his gut slowly dissipating.

Matt closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sound of her plea like a melody that ignited something deep within him. He let out a shaky, breathless sigh, feeling his shoulders relax just enough to allow him to fully embrace the moment. “I don’t want to stop. God—I don’t ever want to stop,” he confessed quietly, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer, heavy with longing and intensity.

Her expression shifted, eyes glistening with something profound—a mix of vulnerability and trust that twisted his insides. It was a moment of reckoning, a shared acknowledgment of the fire that had always burned beneath the surface. He could see reflected in them the same fervor, the same desperate need, and it propelled him forward.

In that instant, the hesitation melted away, replaced by an urgent yearning that compelled him to lean back in, their lips finding each other again with an immediacy that felt like home. Each kiss deepened, a frantic symphony of gasps and moans that reverberated through the night, intertwining their souls in a way words never could.

This embrace, this connection, was everything they had denied for too long. It was raw and powerful, a beautiful chaos that drew them closer, binding them in a moment that felt timeless. Lost in the tide of emotions, Matt knew this was just the beginning—an awakening of something that had always been there, waiting for permission to burst forth.

The world around them became a distant memory, and in those stolen moments, nothing else mattered. All that existed was the two of them, woven together in a dance of passion and longing, the past melting away, leaving only a future crackling with possibility.

Next Morning

The robotic voice of Matt’s phone rang out insistently.

"Kirsten?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and lingering affection. As he listened to his friend's familiar, eager voice on the other end, Matt felt a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Kirsten was nothing if not persistent, and Matt could already envision his friend's excited rambling about work, unphased by the late hour.

But all of that faded the moment her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear, drawing a shudder from him. He stifled a soft groan, the friction of her teeth grazing his earlobe sending jolts of electricity down his spine. Every shake of Kirsten’s voice melted away, replaced with the intoxicating presence of her hands on him, the history of their shared moments flooding back. A rush of affection threatened his focus, distracting him from the task at hand—any semblance of responsibility slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Uh, hold on, Kirsten," he said, a bit breathless as he hastily covered the receiver and turned his attention back to her. "Could you stop that for a second?"

She giggled softly, and that sound ignited something fiery deep within him. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the sunlight filtering through the curtains casting delicate shadows on her face. With a pout, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned in closer, daring him with a playfulness that made his resolve waver.

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" she taunted, her breath brushing against his lips, tantalizingly close, revelling in her new power of being an ADA.

Matt chuckled, the tension crackling between them palpable, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, stealing back the reality they had built—lost in her smile, her laughter, and everything that made them her. "You know we're not supposed to mix work and pleasure," he teased, but his resolve blew away like a whisper in the wind.

"That’s not a rule I intend to follow," she quipped, framing his jaw with her hands, and without thinking, he found himself surrendering to the magnetism drawing them together again. Her lips took his with fervor, and everything else faded away—the buzz of the phone, the responsibilities, the world outside; nothing mattered beyond this moment. 

The kiss deepened, both of them losing track of time in a way that felt both liberating and dangerous. Their chemistry filled the room, each caress igniting a familiar fire within him. But in what felt like mere seconds, reality intruded once more with the sound of Kirsten’s voice echoing through the receiver.

“Matt? You still there?”

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, his breath ragged. He gave her a guilty smile mixed with frustration and vulnerability—a perfect blend of emotions churning in him, caught between the wild depths of desire and the mundane world that was pulling him back. 

"Yeah—sorry, Kirsten," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. She smiled, tilting her head, a spark of understanding passing silently between them. Even in the chaos, they managed to find their rhythm together, a blend of sweetness and determination.

As Matt’s conversation with Kirsten unfolded in the background, he could feel her gaze upon him, her fingers trailing softly along his forearm, drawing circles that sent shivers up his spine. The steady rise and fall of her breathing filled him with warmth, grounding him even amidst the chaos of everyday life. 

Matt’s heart swelled with anticipation for what lay ahead—the dreams, the fears, the trivial moments that intertwined to create something so authentic and beautiful between them. He finished the call, chuckling as Kirsten rambled excitedly about a new case, but all he could think about was the girl beside him, the warmth of their connection, the words he longed to repeat—the words he felt deep in his soul.

Matt let out an annoyed huff as the call with Kirsten came to an end, the weight of duty settling heavily on his shoulders. He reluctantly released his grip on the phone and turned to her, his voice grumpy and low in the dim morning light. “I have to go in to work.”

“No,” she whined playfully, pressing her cheek against his as if to anchor him to the moment.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the feel of her adorable pout, a smile hidden beneath all that weariness. Matt’s hands found their way to her face, his thumbs grazing the corners of her mouth in a gentle caress. Instantly, her frown transformed, casting away any lingering shadows. "I'll come back later," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss against her lips.

“No!” she protested, the playful defiance glinting in her eyes.

Matt laughed softly, his grip dropping to her hip, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m not staying if you keep whining.” It was a tease—a way to lighten the mood, though the unspoken truth hung thick in the air. 

“I love you,” she mumbled, almost shyly.

The three simple words struck him like a sudden storm, sending his heart racing and breath hitching in his throat. His hand slid to her waist, holding her tighter as he fought to regain control, to remain anchored in reality. “You’re not making this easy,” he murmured, his voice thick with unvoiced longing. 

“Good,” she giggled, enveloping him in her arms, pulling him closer into her warmth and safety—the very essence of everything he wanted.

Yet, surrendering was a dangerous game.

Matt chuckled again, a sigh escaping him as he leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “You’re not playing fair, you know that, right?” he murmured against her skin, pressing soft kisses against her pulse point, relishing in her intoxicating scent. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head back, inviting him to continue his assault.

But just as he felt his resolve begin to crumble beneath her touch, the blaring ring of her phone shattered the moment like glass hitting the floor. 

“Ugh,” Matt groaned, annoyance creeping in once again. “Your phone is ringing.”

She sighed in frustration, throwing her head back dramatically. “Yeah, I know.”

He chuckled at her exasperation, his hands trailing up her sides one last time before he reluctantly pulled away, knowing he had to let her face the outside world. “You should probably answer that,” he murmured, giving her hip a gentle pat.

She sighed deeply, clutching the sheets to her chest as she reached for her phone, the delicate fabric slipping down her arms. Matt bit back an instant protest, wanting nothing more than to hold her close, to forget about responsibilities and the outside world.

“Michael?” she answered, her tone shifting to one of authority. “Yeah? Yes, I know about the meeting. I’m the ADA; she should wait for me—no, absolutely not! That wasn’t the deal—”

Her words sparked tension in Matt’s chest, the name ringing loudly in his ears. Michael. The sound of it twisted the knife of jealousy deep within him. The thought of her speaking with anyone else, especially this Michael, melted away his cheerful demeanor. 

“Michael, I don’t need you to protect me, just because you’re the head of security now—don’t get cocky,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice.

Matt's expression darkened with every syllable that came out of her mouth. This Michael was a ghost that had slid into their life, taking root uninvited. The fact that he held a position of authority only fueled Matt’s inner turmoil. Wasn’t it his job to protect her? And yet, here was this man, spending more time with her than he ever could.

Her laughter floated through the air, bright and carefree. “You’re a dick. The car better be here in 10.” 

It was a sound like shards of glass gouging into his heart. Why did she laugh at something he said? Why did she sound so familiar with him? The very thought sent a wave of fury rushing through him, clenching his fists as the turmoil bubbled to the surface.

She hung up the phone and turned to him, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “I gotta go too,” she stated, but Matt barely registered her words.

“Who is this Michael?” he asked, the tense edge in his voice barely held at bay. 

“You remember my dad’s right-hand man? Former head of security? Isaac Cain? It’s his son, Michael. Do you remember him? He used to come by during our time at St. Agnes.” 

Matt frowned instinctively at her words, nodding reluctantly. The memories of Isaac and the unease they had always stirred surfaced at the mention of his name. “Yeah, I remember him,” he replied, the words laced with a bitterness he couldn’t quite suppress. “He’s head of security now?”

“Yeah,” she continued, her tone explaining yet oblivious to the tension thickening in the air. “Isaac stepped down a few months after I got promoted alongside Blake; he’s doing business, so Michael stepped up in his place.”

Matt’s jaw locked in frustration. Isaac’s son taking over—this was not a fair arrangement. It fueled a raging inferno of jealousy. The idea of this Michael spending time with her while he had to sit back and wait gnawed at his insides. 

“Right,” he muttered, reaching down to grab his discarded boxer briefs, the very action grounding him.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her concern a whisper that only deepened his turmoil.

“Mhm.” The lie slipped from his tongue effortlessly, but even he could hear the strain in the response. 

He didn’t want to admit that his jealousy wounded him, didn’t want to let her know how unsteady he felt under the weight of these emotions. 

“Matty,” she said softly, concern lacing her voice so he was left frozen.

His head turned at the sound, but his expression remained neutral as he continued to fixate on anything but her. “What?” he replied, his voice void of warmth. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, almost hesitant to pry.

The guilt that surged in him felt like a tidal wave threatening to drown him. He closed his eyes against the swell of regret coursing through him. “Nothing,” he murmured, but his heart wasn’t in it. The words felt hollow, devoid of truth.

“Honey—” She gave him a look–though unseen– that said she didn’t believe him, that she saw right through his facade. 

His heart rate quickened at the sound of the endearing nickname, the world around him coming to a standstill. But it did little to extinguish the burning jealousy in his heart. “It’s nothing.” The words came out softer this time, less convincing, and more like a whisper fading into the void. 

Her frown deepened, and though she nodded, a flicker of concern lingered in her gaze. “Okay,” she whispered, brow slightly furrowed, though unease hung between them like a thick fog. 

Matt felt the guilt rising again, a suffocating wave as he heard the resignation in her voice. The sound of acceptance, the way she didn’t push him, twisted something deep within him. A sharp pang of regret struck his chest, pushing him closer to the brink of despair, and he wanted to reach across the divide between them, to apologize for the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"You don't want to be late," he murmured eventually, his own words heavy, emerging more as a quiet statement than a question. 

“You’re kicking me out?” she asked softly, her chuckle laced with confusion and concern, her eyes searching his for clarity.

Matt sighed again, frustration flickering through him. “I’m not kicking you out. I’m telling you that you should go. If you don’t want to be late. You have a firm to run.” His voice was rough and quiet, the effort to avoid her gaze feeling like a bitter punishment. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried to steady the maelstrom within him. 

The awkward tension seeped into the room, and his behavior made her hesitate. For a fleeting moment, she reevaluated the night they had shared—the laughter, the warmth, the intimacy that had blurred the lines of their friendship. Did he regret it? Did he wish he hadn’t crossed that line?

“Yeah! Yeah, of course—um—I’ll just—I’ll see you?” she finally stammered, grabbing her purse with an uncertain smile that made Matt’s heart ache again.

Reluctantly, he tried to look up at her, the doubt in her tone striking a solemn chord within him. He wanted to reach out, to take her face in his hands and reassure her that he didn’t regret a single moment. That he loved her—desperately. But he shoved those feelings down again, fortifying the walls he had built, keeping himself neutral as he spoke in a voice that belied his turmoil. “Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “See you.”

“You can’t,” she joked awkwardly, cringing at her own words afterward.

At her attempt at humor, Matt felt another pang in his chest. The lightness in her voice only made him hate himself even more for the discomfort that hung between them. He forced a smile, knowing it was likely to come across as more of a grimace. “Good one,” he replied, attempting a thread of dry humor even as his heart twisted unpleasantly.

Her smile faltered then, and Matt could see the nervousness run through her. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, taking a step closer, desperate to bridge the divide. “I should go?” she asked softly, her voice laced with vulnerability.

Unable to help himself, Matt stepped closer as well, his hands clenching at his sides. The urge to reach out, to pull her close, was nearly overwhelming. “You...” He swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to let his heart reign free. “You should go.” The words came out reluctantly, each one like a tiny dagger. 

Disappointment settled in her eyes, the slight offbeat of her heart that made his world feel infinitely darker. His heart raced at the sound of her pain, and he regretted everything in an instant. “Yeah—okay,” she mumbled sadly. She stepped forward as if preparing to kiss him goodbye but instead turned for the door, the weight of unfulfilled desire heavy in the air.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to her retreat. The heart that beat within him felt shattered. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms, say the words that would reassure her that nothing had been ruined, that their friendship could withstand the tremors of this new territory. The desperation coursed through him, yet still, he held back. He couldn’t find the strength to pull her back—to say, Stay.

As she walked out the door, his hands clenched into tight, tense fists at his sides, frustration and longing battling within him. 

With a deep sadness, she made her way to the car waiting for her, each step echoing in Matt’s heart like a funeral march. What if they had just ruined everything? What if the warmth they had shared would be eclipsed by awkwardness and uncertainty? 

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Matt felt the heaviness of her absence, like the light had dimmed and the room was left in shadow. The laughter, the warmth—all of it had faded, leaving him isolated in a silence that felt suffocating. His chest felt as if it had been torn open; his whole world crumbled in the wake of her departure.

He shut his eyes against the swell of emotions crashing over him. A long, shaky breath escaped his lips as he covered his face, trying to block out the torment swirling in his mind. “Idiot...” he murmured to himself, the word bitter and biting. The regret gnawed at him relentlessly. Why couldn’t he admit the truth? Why couldn’t he let her know just how much she meant to him? 

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The fear of losing her if he opened up. The fear of what this new dynamic could mean for them. As he stood alone in the dim apartment, the silence settled around him like a shroud, damping the echoes of possibility into nothing more than a ghost of what could have been.

10 a.m. at the DA’s Office

She sat at her desk, the morning light spilling through the office window, casting a warm glow on the papers scattered before her. Yet, her focus was elusive, her mind swirling in a tempest of uncertainty that kept drifting back to him. Matt. The very thought of him sent a torrent of emotions crashing against her heart, each wave seemingly stronger than the last.

10 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Meanwhile, Matt spent the day pacing his small apartment like a caged tiger, restlessness consuming him. The walls felt like they were closing in, every shadow a reminder that she was out there, living her life—without him. He knew he was being irrational, a voice in his head insisting that the feelings were mere paranoia. But that voice was doused in self-doubt.

Matt pressed a palm against his forehead. She loved him, he told himself, yet the knowledge that she knew Michael loomed large, casting a dark pall over his thoughts. He envisioned Michael—tall, effortlessly charming, and everything Matt felt he wasn't. The creeping dread filled his chest, suffocating him; it was an anxiety that he couldn't shake off.

11 a.m. at the DA’s Office

As Matt spiraled through his thoughts, she struggled to maintain her composure in her office. The soft knock of her assistant disrupted her reverie, an unwelcome reminder that life outside her head continued beside the clamor of her racing heart. “Get out,” she dismissed, the urgency in her tone forcing the girl to retreat before she could say a word.

11 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Back at Nelson and Murdock, Matt continued to pace, lost in a whirlwind of fear. He replayed that fateful conversation over and over again. Had he ruined everything between them? Could he have pushed her closer to Michael? The questions twirled chaotically, thoughts colliding in a cacophony of self-loathing. The idea of her building a life without him felt like a dagger to his soul, every insecurity igniting his anxiety.

12 a.m. at the DA’s Office

Heavyhearted, she decided to escape the confines of her office for lunch, her feet instinctively leading her to Nelson and Murdock. The thought of seeing Matt brought a mixture of hope and dread, an uneven pulse of longing that thrummed in her veins.

12:30 p.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Matt sat in his office, surrounded by open files that he could hardly focus on. He craved her presence, but the panic coursing through him clouded his ability to think clearly. The door creaked, and he barely registered Y/N’s soft knock as he kept his head down.

“Hey,” she chimed, stepping into the big office beside Kirsten.

In an instant, Matt’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, as if she were a beacon drawing him back from the depths of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up slowly, color flooding his cheeks, and he felt a rush of breathlessness as he focused on her, the world around them fading into the background.

“Hey,” he murmured back, standing up uncertainly.

The presence of her brought a surge of bittersweet emotions, longing mingling with fear. Kirsten stepped aside, sensing the tension, her understanding crystal clear.

“Um—these are for you guys,” Y/N said, her voice faltering slightly as she lifted the bag of bagels and coffees, an offering of comfort amid the confusion.

Matt’s sightless gaze flickered down to the food, a pang of guilt slicing through him. He moved carefully around the desk, the small space between them feeling charged. “Thanks,” he said quietly, their fingers brushing as he accepted the coffee, making his heart race even more.

Kirsten caught the unspoken connection and quickly excused herself, offering Matt a brief pat on the shoulder before vanishing from the room, leaving just the two of them in the charged silence that felt almost palpable.

“Have a seat,” he gestured awkwardly, taking a slow sip of the coffee. 

“I don’t really want to,” she admitted, twisting her fingers together nervously. “Especially if you don’t want me here.” The hesitance in her voice hit him like a physical blow.

Matt felt his heart clench painfully. The mere suggestion that he didn’t want her there twisted the knife deeper. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. “I... that’s not…” he trailed off, frustration bubbling to the surface. “No, I—I do want you here, I...”

“But you don’t want me in your apartment?” She circled back to the coldness of his earlier dismissal, each word laced with uncertainty.

He felt the guilt flood back in waves, a reminder of the morning’s hurtful words. His response, the one that promised he wanted her close, battled with the fears that had gripped him for so long. Opening his mouth felt like stepping into a minefield. “I’m… sorry about this morning,” he mumbled, the apology escaping like a whisper choked with regret.

“Yeah, but—what are you sorry for?” she pressed gently. “What made you so upset you practically told me to skip rocks?”

At her question, Matt flinched. He could feel her hurt, could see it in the tension of her shoulders. “I just…” He struggled to articulate the truth he feared more than anything. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.” His voice fell to a whisper laden with vulnerability.

“Matt, I could never feel trapped when I’m with you.” Her eyes softened, an earnestness sinking deep within his chest. “I feel—the most myself I can ever be around you. Don’t you get that?” She reached for his hands, entwining her fingers with his, grounding him in the moment.

Matt felt something shift within him as she spoke, her words resonating against the chaos of his thoughts. “I do, I promise I do,” he breathed, the sincerity behind her affection dawning on him. “I just… I don’t want to burden you with—” The implication hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy, aching to break free.

“Stop.” Her voice was firm, yet tender, the strength woven through her conviction a lifeline. “That’s not what this is. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I’ve never looked at you differently. And now—knowing that you’re Daredevil? After everything that has happened? It doesn’t change anything for me, either. You’re still you.” 

As she cupped his cheeks, her touch ignited warmth across his skin, breaking through the barriers he had erected around his heart. “You’re still my Matty.”

In that moment, the weight of the world shifted. Matt’s chest tightened with possibilities, the fear that had engulfed him starting to dissolve under the light of her unwavering gaze. It was a realization that whispered of hope, of a future he dared not imagine — one not dominated by shadows and insecurities, but instead bathed in love and understanding.

As he tried to hold her gaze, the truth felt like a promise, a step closer to what they both needed. And in that heartbeat of silence, he knew he had to let go of the past, to be brave enough to embrace the love that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

Matt stood still, his breath hitching as she cupped his cheeks, an unexpected wave of warmth flooding through him. Leaning into her touch, he could feel the sincerity radiating from her, a gentle reminder that pierced through his clouded mind. It was exhilarating and terrifying, overwhelming his senses in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The sensation of her honesty and love washed over him; it was intoxicating and achingly poignant.

As the emotions churned within him, Matt closed his eyes, savoring the moment. With vulnerability creeping in, he finally spoke, his voice a low murmur cracked by unspoken fears. “I really am an idiot, huh?” he managed, a soft laugh escaping, one laced with both self-deprecation and affection. The catholic he is.

“Yes. Yes, you are,” she replied lightly, a teasing smile blooming on her lips.

Matt couldn’t help but snort, amusement mingling with the tension that had enveloped them. He shook his head, half-laughing, half-choking back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over. “I’m really sorry,” he murmured, genuine regret lining his voice. “My head’s just a mess right now, and—and I’m sorry... I—” His words faltered, grappling with the whirlwind of feelings too tangled to unravel.

“Honey, my head was hurting just thinking about you. Why do you think I’m here? I can’t concentrate when we’re not okay,” she chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, coaxing him into her embrace.

When she pulled him close, Matt’s heart swelled, aching with a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. He instinctively returned her embrace, sighing softly as he pressed his cheek against hers. “I missed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his words betraying just how deep his feelings ran.

“I missed you too,” she whispered back, lifting his head gently to meet her gaze before leaning in to kiss him softly.

The moment their lips met, everything fell away—guilt, anxiety, insecurity dissipated into the air, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her presence.  Matt’s heart raced with fervor as he kissed her, an urgent blend of longing and need driving the connection deeper. His fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer, as if trying to erase the distance of their troubles with every brush of their lips.

She hummed contentedly against him, losing herself in the sweet cadence of his kiss.

As they melted into one another, Matt's attention focused solely on her. He pressed her gently against the wall, his hands finding their way down her sides, tracing the soft curves of her body. 

She kneaded his biceps slowly, savoring the warmth of his embrace as she kissed him languidly, rewarding his careful touches with her explorations.

Lost in the moment, Matt let out a soft moan as her hands roamed across him. His fingers, now more at ease, settled on her hips, feeling the fabric cling to her form. He pulled back slightly, kissing a path down her jawline and dipping lower along her neck. His breaths came in ragged bursts, mixing passion with tenderness.

In bliss, she smiled, opening her eyes lazily to steal a glance over his shoulder. That’s when she saw her—Karen, standing there with a look of shock that froze Y/N in place.

Matt hadn’t registered her entry through the haze of emotion and warmth that surrounded them. As he instinctively pulled back, the sudden realization of their audience washed over him like ice water. “Karen,” he murmured, his voice low and breathless, hands still lingering at Y/N’s hips as he pulled himself away from their intimate sphere.

“I—I brought bagels,” Y/N managed to blurt out, her face pale as she scrambled for normalcy.

“Right. Yes, bagels. Thanks for that,” Karen replied, fumbling for composure as he and Y/N stood there, their lips still swollen, the reality of their affection stark against Karen's disbelief.

“You’re welcome,” Y/N said, an embarrassed smile struggling to break through the awkwardness. She offered an awkward thumbs-up, trying to navigate the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped them.

Matt swallowed hard, the sound of Karen’s quickened heartbeat only amplifying the embarrassment that filled the air. It dawned on him that in their moment of vulnerability, they hadn’t fully closed the door. “Right,” Matt finally murmured, clearing his throat as he released his hold on Y/N, taking a step back to create some distance. “Well, we should... get back to work.”

“Right! Yes! Of course. I’ll get out of you guys's hair,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with awkwardness as she adjusted her dress, reaching for her purse with shaky hands.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Matt thought desperately to reset the situation and sound slightly more professional. “Thanks for bringing bagels, by the way,” he said, forcing a casual smile.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, her smile a little strained as she reached up, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek for parting. “I’ll see you later. Tell Kirsten I said bye. Great to see you again Karen.”

Matt nodded, though his heart still raced in the aftermath of the unexpected interruption. He watched her leave, the heat creeping up his face, ignited by the kiss, his hand running through his already disheveled hair in nervousness. As she walked past Karen, Matt felt a pang of anxiety twist in his chest. What had Karen seen? 

Once Y/N disappeared from view, Matt turned back to Karen, swallowing hard as his voice dipped to a hesitant murmur. “Did you... want a bagel?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to shake off the remnants of embarrassment that lingered in the air.

Karen stood frozen, her expression dazed as she processed the whirlwind of emotions swirling in the aftermath of what she had just witnessed. She turned to face Matt, her gaze flickering over his tousled hair and slightly crooked tie, evidence of the chaos that had only just unfolded. The tension in the air hummed between them, and Matt found himself shifting under her scrutiny, her heartbeat echoing in his ears like a drum.

Clearing her throat, Karen finally managed to speak, her voice still tinged with breathlessness. “Uh... no, I’m good,” she said awkwardly, her hands fidgeting anxiously at her sides.

Matt swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He took a slow step back, retreating to his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the exhaustion that suddenly engulfed him.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned between them before Karen hesitated, the words hanging heavy in her chest. “So... are we not going to talk about what I just saw?” she finally blurted out, her tone suggesting she was unsure whether it was a question she wanted to ask.

Matt rubbed at his forehead once more, taking a moment to gather himself before responding, his voice quiet and strained. “Which part?” he murmured, letting the weight of his defensiveness color the air.

Karen fell silent for a fleeting moment, her heart racing beneath the surface of her skin. Then, frustration bubbled over. “The kissing part, Matt! I don’t know if you’re aware, but that was a little more than friends, y’know?” Karen snapped, her irritation slicing through the tension that filled the room.

Matt's breath hitched, a slow exhale escaping his lips as he struggled with the storm of emotions churning within him. Hands curling into fists before releasing, he met her gaze, voice low and slightly agitated. “Look, I know it's startling, but I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Immediately, he regretted the bluntness of his response as Karen’s irritation flared further. “Seriously? You’re gonna play the ‘not your business’ card?” she huffed, the tone of disappointment unfurling between them. “You’re one of my closest friends, Matt. I think a little explanation is warranted.”

Guilt flooded Matt's chest as he recognized the hurt in her expression. He took a steadying breath, rubbing at his forehead again, trying to suppress the turmoil that had rooted itself deep within. “I’m... I’m just not comfortable discussing this right now, Karen,” he admitted wearily, running a hand through his hair.

“Not comfortable discussing it or not comfortable discussing me?” she shot back, stepping closer to his desk, an air of defiance crackling between them.

Matt's shoulders tensed as he felt her encroaching presence. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it filled him with trepidation. “Karen... this has nothing to do with... us,” he muttered, referring to the brief romance they had shared before coming to the disheartening realization that their bond was strictly platonic.

At the mention of their history, Karen paused, her heart rate quickening. “Then... what’s different with her?” she murmured, vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Matt hesitated, battling against the urge to shield Karen from the truth. But deep down, he recognized the necessity of honesty, even if it risked deepening her wounds. “She... gets me. In ways that you can’t. In ways that nobody else has. She... knows me,” he confessed quietly, his voice as fragile as the space between them.

The admission hung in the air, thick with emotion. Karen remained silent, hurt creeping into her tone as she asked, “How so?”

Matt swallowed hard, acutely aware of his role in this painful exchange, the guilt twisting like a knife in his gut. “She... accepts me for what I am,” he said softly, the weight of vulnerability heavy on his tongue. “My whole life, I’ve been trying to hide my... my darkness... It’s in my blood. But with... with her, I don’t have to hide. She knows that I’m a damaged person, but she still trusts me.”

His words hung between them, bruised and raw. “She doesn’t see my darkness as a flaw like everyone else does, including you,” he muttered, feeling the weight of Karen's gaze pierce through him. “She makes me feel... accepted. Loved. She... she knows the worst parts of me, and she loves me anyway.”

“And before you ask, she knows all of my darkest secrets, all the things I’ve done that I'm not proud of.” He thought back to his moment of violent vulnerability, when he had pushed Ben Poindexter off the roof of Josie’s in retaliation for losing the most important person in his life–his best friend– besides Y/N.

 “And she still loves me. I feel the same way about her.” Matt continued, each word dragging him deeper into a chasm of mixed emotions.

“She cares about me, even when I drive her away for her protection. She gives me advice to help manage my... my emotions. She listens to me ramble about law stuff when she's won bigger ones than I have. We talk for hours... hours about everything and nothing. She brings me coffee, and she... she makes me laugh.”

He could see the realization dawning in Karen's eyes, the hurt echoing through her silence. “She’s seen the worst of me. I’ve seen the worst of her. And despite everything, nothing has shaken her faith in me. Nothing has shaken my faith in her,” he pressed on, conflicted resolve stitching his emotions together. “Which is more than I can say for you and I.”

Matt saw the flicker of comprehension cross Karen's face, her heart heavy with the implications of his words. “You can’t deny that you’ve given up on me at some point. You’ve doubted me. You’ve questioned my actions. You’ve accused me of being reckless and impulsive. You’ve judged me, just like everyone else did. But not her.” The weariness of his voice deepened, guilt gnawing ever harder.

In the aftermath of his pouring out, Karen stood silent, the weight of Matt’s words anchoring her in place. “I’m not saying you're a bad friend, Karen,” he finally offered softly. “I care about you deeply. But... but us... not happening.”

The air thickened with a heavy silence, tension radiating off both of them as he braced for her reaction. She inhaled sharply, the tremor of her breath betraying the tumult of emotion surging within her. “So... so where does that leave me?” she whispered, her voice cracking with raw heartbreak.

Matt winced at the sorrow that laced her words, his heart breaking anew. “Karen... you’ll always be my friend,” he assured her, a muffled gentleness in his tone. “You mean the world to me. But... but I can’t be what you want. You were right to start anew in San Francisco. I don't blame you for that. I just wished we could still be friends. Even if–”

He choked, ‘Even if Foggy’s not here anymore.”

The finality of his words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken pain. Karen took a shuddering breath, her emotions swirling helplessly at the surface. “I... I understand,” she murmured, the ache in her heart evident even amidst her acceptance.

When the day ended, the weight of the conversation lingered in the empty spaces between them. The office held an air of strained civility, yet their bond felt irreparably frayed. Matt tried to push through the tension, his mind wandering to thoughts of Y/N, the warmth of her laughter flickering like a beacon in his heart.

Even amidst the awkwardness, hope stirred deep within him—a hope for a connection that felt rooted in acceptance, for someone who dared to love him in his entirety—his light, his dark, and everything in between. 

Matt sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork, the weight of the day leaning heavily on his shoulders. The hum of the office buzzed around him, a steady backdrop of typing and quiet chatter. But when his phone rang with a familiar name ringing out in the space of his office, an exhilarating flutter erupted in his chest, cutting through the monotony of the day.

“Hello?” Matt greeted her, his voice already imbued with an unmistakable warmth that he reserved only for her.

“Hey, babe. I was thinking about you. How do you feel about Italian?” Her voice, sweet and melodic, washed over him like a gentle tide, banishing his fatigue and wrapping him in a cozy embrace. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face at the sound of her. 

“Italian? Sounds perfect. You’re thinking of going out?” he asked, a playful lilt dancing in his voice, buoyed by the anticipation of her reply.

“I was hoping you’d be available for a little date night?” she asked shyly, and he could almost picture her biting her lip, excitement shimmering beneath a veneer of bashfulness.

His heart did a delightful flip at her words, a glimmer of joy lighting up his spirit. “I’m always available for you, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone affectionate yet teasing as if they were locked in a private world together. “Just say when and where, and I’ll be there.”

A soft giggle fluttered through the phone line, and he felt his heart swell. “Um—how about in 5 minutes? I’m already on my way.”

Matt chuckled, his smile brightening even more, the delight bubbling over. “Five minutes?” he repeated, mock incredulity threading through his voice. “You’re very eager today, aren’t you?”

“To see you? Always,” she replied smoothly, and his stomach twisted joyfully at the weight of her words, a warm glow spreading through his chest.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he teased, the playful grin on his face betraying the joy he felt. “Making me feel very special here.”

“Then it’s working. See you soon.” The line went dead, leaving him grinning as he hung up the phone, disbelief and delight swirling together in a zesty blend of emotions.

Amusement bubbled in his chest as he gathered his belongings. He grabbed his cane, ready to step out, and poked his head into Kirsten’s office, letting her know he was stepping out for a while. “Taking a quick break,” he said, unable to contain the glee that was evident in his smile.

Once outside, the cool evening air greeted him, sending a delightful shiver down his spine. He leaned against the wall, anxiety and excitement intertwining as he eagerly awaited Y/N's arrival. Every passing second felt like an eternity; the world around him blurred as he focused entirely on the thrill of seeing her.

He replayed their conversation in his mind, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soft and inviting. Had it just been moments? Time skewed in his mind, every second apart magnified, charged with anticipation.

Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through his reverie, and his heart raced as he turned his head. There she was, her familiar heartbeat thudding and the sweet scent of her detergent wafting over him.

“Hey, you!” she called out brightly, her smile enveloping him in a wave of joy.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice almost breathless. “You look amazing.”

“That line doesn't work cause you can't see me, Matty. But I have to say, you look devilishly handsome,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now, let’s get that Italian food before I get too hungry.”

As they began to walk, side by side, the cool air filled with easy laughter and comfortable conversation that flowed effortlessly between them. The evening stretched before them, full of endless possibilities as they headed toward a night woven together with warmth, fun, and affection.

With Y/N at his side, every moment felt vibrant and alive, painting the canvas of their shared experience in rich hues of excitement and romance. In that moment, under the open sky, with laughter hanging in the air around them, Matt felt something click into place within him. He was exactly where he was meant to be.

The End.

[leashybebes]

queer feelings - 8

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

Apparently Alannah was serious about being friends. Buck's more relieved than he can say when she messages him a week after their date and says, operation: more queer friends is a go. wanna hang out with some freaks and weirdos? do you like board games? also you said you bake, right? bring cookies they'll love you forever.

Before he can reply, she follows up with kidding, they'll love you anyway.

Maybe it's that wording, or maybe it's the standard Evan Buckley eagerness to please, but he goes a little overboard. Shows up at Alannah's place with six batches of cookies (one gluten free, one vegan, one vegan and gluten free, one oatmeal raisin, one chocolate chip, one white chocolate stuffed raspberry), and a box of cupcakes. He's nervous in a way he hasn't been for years when he juggles his boxes to ring the bell.

The door is opened by a tall woman with a perfectly round afro wearing a green jumpsuit. She looks him up and down, takes in the baked goods, and says with a smile, "You must be Buck."

"Uh, yeah. Hi."

"I'm Asha, the roommate. Come on in, everyone's out back."

Everyone turns out to be seven people, crammed into a small backyard, standing around or perched on mismatched indoor and outdoor furniture. Seven pairs of eyes turn to look at him, and Buck feels exactly like a kid in a new classroom on the first day of school.

"Buck!" Alannah says, jumping up from where she's sharing a lounger with a tall older woman with a punky haircut and a nose ring. "You made it! And you brought…a whole bakery."

The tease feels gentle and Buck grins and lets Alannah start pulling boxes out of his arms, making appreciative noises as she does so. 

"The cupcakes oughta go in the fridge," he says. "Buttercream."

"Jesus, you can come again," a guy with long dark hair and big brown eyes says, popping up out of nowhere next to Alannah. "Hey, I'm Shawn."

"Hey, good to meet you. Evan Buckley, but everyone calls me Buck."

"Ooh, love that, it's so butch."

"He is extremely butch, Shawn," Alannah says fondly. "Buck's a firefighter."

Shawn's eyebrows go up. "Oh, damn. That's hot. What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen someone totally accidentally get stuck up their butt?"

"Shawn," Alannah says, gentle warning in her tone.

"Professional curiosity," Shawn protests, then turns his attention back to Buck. "I'm an ER nurse."

"Oh, cool. Well, I once pulled a tapeworm out of a guy?"

"Shut up, that's awful. Tell me everything," Shawn demands. "Actually, wait," he amends, grabbing a cupcake. "Come tell Liss, too, she loves this kinda shit."

Buck finds himself being pulled into the small crowd of people, exchanging smiles and greetings. It's great to meet you, he says, again and again, and he means it every time.

He tells the tapeworm story to Shawn and Liss, exchanges contact details with Paolo and Asha who want the recipe for the stuffed cookies, gets dragged into debates and conversations and good-natured bickering. The night passes in a haze of games he's never heard of (Camel Up is a lot of fun, he is horrible at Chameleon, and he kicks absolutely everyone's ass at Downforce), great pot-luck style food, and because Shawn and Carmella are teetotalers, some really good mocktails once Buck cuts himself off after a couple of beers. 

He winds up designated driver for a few people, and it turns out Paolo lives just a couple of streets away from Eddie's - from Buck's place. They agree to go on a hike the next time they're both free and when Buck gets home he collapses into bed with a grin on his face. He can't remember the last time he had such a busy, fun night with so many new people.

His phone buzzes in his hip pocket, and he pulls it out to see he's been added to a group chat called gals, gays and affiliated parties. He wonders if he should send a message but before he can, a flurry of them come through: hey, Buck! Hi, Buck! Welcome! Hey, great to meet you! Hey, new guy!

Buck clutches his phone tighter and smiles, smiles, smiles.

[mahalachives]

Thank you for writing my request for acotar fics. Really if I'm going to be honest I didn't expect you to write it so quickly. But wowww. Again thank you and would you like consider to write a azriel and human mate reader where she has like tablet as well as a telephone and earphones and she explains a technology to inner circle.

Title: Tech Support: Velaris Edition

pairing: azriel x human!mate reader

Hope you enjoy!

The first time Azriel saw you talking to yourself, he thought you were mad.

The second time, when you told him you were “on a call,” he genuinely started to worry about your sanity.

By the third time, you had pulled out what you called a tablet, and suddenly, the entire Inner Circle got involved.

And so here you were, seated in the House of Wind, facing a very skeptical group of Fae while Azriel stood protectively beside you, arms crossed but utterly amused.

You did not expect absolute chaos.

It started when you pulled out your phone.

“This,” you said, holding it up like it was the Cauldron itself, “is a cell phone.”

The room stared at the tiny glowing rectangle in your hands like it was a live bomb.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, narrowed his eyes. “It’s…glowing.”

“Yes.”

Cassian unsheathed a dagger. “Kill it.”

“CASSIAN, NO—”

Azriel, standing protectively beside you, let out a suffering sigh as you shoved Cassian’s arm down. “It’s not alive, you battle-obsessed maniac.”

“Are you sure?” Amren drawled, unimpressed. “Because that thing hummed.”

“It vibrated—it’s a notification!” You waved your hand. “It’s how I get messages!”

Rhys leaned forward, smirking. “So, humans store voices in tiny glowing bricks now?”

“… I hate how accurate that sounds.”

Nesta arched a brow. “So it’s like a magical book?”

“No, it’s better.” You clicked on a video, and the screen moved.

Cassian screamed.

Nesta dropped her tea.

Amren nearly fell out of her chair.

Feyre’s jaw hit the floor.

Rhysand, High Lord of Velaris, the most powerful High Fae in existence, flinched.

Mor gasped dramatically. “IT’S POSSESSED.”

Azriel—your lovely, brooding mate—only sighed deeper, rubbing his temples like this was the worst day of his life.

“IT’S JUST A VIDEO,” you shouted over their horrified screams.

“IT’S A TRAPPED SOUL,” Cassian accused, pointing a trembling finger at the phone.

“IT’S NOT—”

Nesta hissed at the screen.

Feyre, looking way too concerned, whispered to Rhys, “Should we… should we free it?”

“IT’S NOT TRAPPED,” you nearly shrieked.

Azriel put a calming hand on your shoulder. It did nothing.

“This is normal for humans,” he explained, attempting damage control.

Mor, still clutching her chest like she had seen a ghost, muttered, “Humans are terrifying.”

You groaned. “Okay, forget the phone. Let’s move on to the tablet.”

More skeptical looks.

You turned it on, and Rhys immediately backed up.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

Cassian squinted. “Why is it so big?”

“It’s just a bigger version of my phone!”

Nesta looked at the screen, unimpressed. “Does it also hold souls hostage?”

“…It’s literally just for books, movies, and drawing.” You clicked a random sketching app and made a quick doodle.

Silence.

Then—

Cassian leaned in. “You—you’re making magic symbols—”

“I AM DRAWING.”

“WITH LIGHT,” Feyre gasped.

“WITH MY FINGER.”

Rhys looked between you and Azriel. “You mated with a sorceress?”

Azriel sighed even harder. “She’s not a sorceress.”

“She controls light magic,” Mor insisted.

“Oh my god.”

Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought nothing could be dumber than Cassian.”

Cassian gasped, clutching his chest. “Nesta, how could you?”

“Okay,” you groaned. “Forget the tablet—here, let’s try earphones.” You plugged them in and played music. “Put this in your ear.”

Mor eagerly took one.

The second the bass hit, her eyes flew open.

“WHAT. IS. HAPPENING?”

She grabbed Cassian’s arm. “DO YOU HEAR THAT? IT’S IN MY HEAD—”

Cassian yanked it away like it was a venomous snake. “GET IT OUT—IT’S CURSING HER—”

Azriel looked like he wanted to jump out the nearest window.

Rhysand, ever dramatic, massaged his temples. “Mother above, why did I let her do this?”

Nesta, still sipping her tea, shrugged. “I think we should let them suffer.”

Cassian—who had immediately shoved both earphones into his ears—jumped to his feet.

“THIS,” he declared, “IS THE GREATEST THING HUMANS HAVE EVER CREATED.”

You smirked. “Told you.”

Cassian whipped around to Rhys. “BRO, WE NEED THIS AT RITA’S.”

“No."

“PLEASE.”

“Absolutely not.”

Cassian was already running. “I’M STEALING THIS—”

Azriel extended a foot, expertly tripping him.

Cassian ate the floor.

Azriel plucked your phone from his unconscious hand and handed it back to you.

You smiled up at your mate. “Thanks, love.”

Azriel sighed. “You’re never showing them the internet.”

[luv-lock]

How would alien!reader be once mark becomes the viltrumite emperor?

She’s still with Mark. Of course, she is. Where the hell else would she be? She’s obsessed with him. Always has been, always will be. There’s no universe where she lets him go.

Their kids? All grown up now. Still adorable little freaks, still worship her like she’s a literal god. (Which, let’s be real, she kinda is.) They inherited her looks, her instincts, and that whole creepy-but-cute thing she has going on. They love Mark, obviously, but their real loyalty is to their mom. If she told them to burn a planet down, they’d do it without blinking.

And her? She’s different now.

No more playing dumb. No more broken English. That was cute while it lasted, but she doesn’t need to act like some clueless alien anymore.

She speaks perfectly now.

And the way she acts? Completely different.

She’s not that weird, clingy little thing Mark found anymore. Now? She carries herself like the goddamn Queen she is. She’s graceful, terrifying, and always watching.

And yeah—bikini. Always.

Mark tried to get her to wear actual clothes at some point, but she laughed in his face. She hates clothes, always will. Too restrictive. Too stupid. She wears the bare minimum and dares anyone to say something.

Mark’s Emperor of Viltrum now. Big deal. She doesn’t care. He’s always been her Emperor. The only difference is now everyone else has to acknowledge it too.

And her? Yeah, she’s his wife. His Queen. His immortal, overpowered, terrifyingly devoted wife.

She takes care of him.

And I mean, really takes care of him.

If she feels him aging? She fixes it.

If he so much as feels sore after a fight? She erases the damage.

Mark is not allowed to weaken. Not allowed to age. Not allowed to die.

And he hates it at first. He doesn’t wanna be some immortal being. He doesn’t wanna be kept alive forever.

Too bad.

She never asked.

She just did it.

Because in her head? He belongs to her. And she refuses to let time take him away.

Eventually, he just accepts it. Because he loves her too much to fight her on it forever.

She’s still the best mother ever.

Doesn’t matter that their kids are fully grown, probably terrifying, and could wipe out civilizations if they wanted. To her? They’re still her babies.

And they know it.

She still touches them, still pets their hair, still hums lullabies while braiding it. (Mark has walked in on fully grown warriors sitting patiently while she plays with their hair. He does not understand it. At all.)

The worst part?

They listen to her over Mark.

He’s the Emperor of Viltrum, goddammit, but if she says something different? They follow her.

Mark: “Go handle that mission.”

Them: “Mom said we should rest today.”

Mark: “I SAID GO.”

Them: “Mom said no.”

It drives him crazy.

Nolan finds it hilarious. (We keep him alive ok?)

She’s a housewife, sure. But she’s still her.

She cooks, cleans, makes their home perfect. But she also hunts, rips creatures apart with her bare hands, and rearranges planets when she feels like it.

She nests. Constantly. She makes sure everything is safe, everything is warm, everything is exactly how she wants it.

She’s always touching Mark. Always.

If she’s not wrapped around him, something is wrong.

She still clings to him like she’s claiming him all over again. And honestly? She is.

Because he’s hers. Forever.

And she will never let anyone forget it.

[meadowfics]

with every post, your Kang series gets better!!!!

Imagine seo-ah and her first cuss word. She slips her juice or something and she goes “shit.”

Dae-ho acts like he just got shot in the chest or something. Reader’s fighting demons trying not to laugh😭😭😭😭😭

OMG YEAHH

seo-ah saying her first cuss word:

there was nothing out of the ordinary.

seo-ah is in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table, sipping on her juice box as you finish up some chores and dae-ho scrolls through his laptop at the kitchen island.

everything is peaceful.

that is… until the juice box betrayal.

seo-ah, not gripping it properly, accidentally squeezes the juice box too hard, and it squirts all over the table, her nice baby blue shirt, and the floor.

there’s a long pause.

in her tiny little voice, she sighs heavily and mutters, "shit."

dae-ho’s head snaps up so fast that you’re afraid he might get whiplash.

the ex-marine's mouth is slightly open, eyes wide with absolute shock as the word on his computer is now ignored.

you, on the other hand, have to turn away immediately to stop yourself from laughing.

because oh my goodness, hearing your baby girl say that in the most tired, fed-up tone was something straight out of a comedy skit.

you can’t let her see you laugh, because if she sees that you find it funny, she’ll say it even more.

dae-ho, still floored, looks between you and seo-ah like he just witnessed the most outrageous thing ever.

"seo-ah?? where did you hear that word?"

dae-ho asks, his voice still in shock.

big mistake.

seo-ah simply shrugs and says,

"from you and mommy."

dead silence.

you purse your lips, trying so hard to keep a straight face, while dae-ho just stares at you like you both have committed the worst parenting crime known to mankind.

"no, no, no, hold on,"

dae-ho says, immediately getting defensive.

"there is no way i—"

he thinks about it.

he thinks about all the times he’s muttered "shit" under his breath when he dropped something, stubbed his toe, or when byeol scared him by her random baby squeals.

now he remembers all the times you’ve said it too.

yeah. it definitely came from you guys.

"okay,"

you finally compose yourself, kneeling in front of seo-ah at the kitchen island.

"sweetheart, we’re not mad at you, but you can’t say that word, okay? it’s not a nice word."

seo-ah frowns, her little eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"but you and daddy say it."

damn.

she got you there.

this is when dae-ho decides to parent up.

"you're right, baby," he sighs, rubbing his temples.

"mommy and i shouldn't say it either. so from now on, let's all try not to say bad words, okay?"

seo-ah nods, but she still looks unsure.

she’s thinking.

she asks,

"what should i say instead when i spill my juice?"

"hmm," you tap your chin,

"how about… 'oh no' or 'uh-oh'?"

seo-ah makes a face.

"that's boring."

dae-ho chuckles,

"okay, what about… ‘toast’?"

seo-ah giggles at that.

"toast?"

"yeah, like if something goes wrong, you just go, 'ah! toast!'"

dae-ho says dramatically, and it makes seo-ah burst into full-on laughter.

that’s it.

‘toast’ has officially replaced ‘shit.’

now your four-year-old is running around the house saying ‘toast’ every time something happens.

drops a toy?

"toast!"

forgets where she put her shoes?

"toast!"

loses a game against you or dae-ho?

"toast!"

it's adorable.

the best moment?

when dae-ho accidentally drops his phone on the floor later that night and mutters, "shit."

only for seo-ah to gasp dramatically and scold him,

"appa! you have to say ‘toast’!"

you laugh as dae-ho facepalms, fully realizing that this is the monster he created.

[sanccharine]

03 | the neighbourly thing

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: she has a name !

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

After your run in with your neighbour, you brushed away the sight of his timid smile. There were more pressing concerns that needed to be addressed. 

The start of the weekend, you started with more motivation than you expected. Starting from the moving boxes labelled ‘Living Room Items’, you unpacked. Though considering how barren your house had been, you’d barely had time to consider where each item would actually go. So instead of being stuffed away in your boxes, trinkets and small furniture littered your living room floor. 

Deciding that decorating the living room was too big of a task and something you could tackle later, you moved to the kitchen. Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be inviting anyone over any time soon. Unpacking and setting the kitchen was a much more successful endeavor. Placing most of the cooking utensils and instruments in their desired places, you dumped a few plates and bowls in the dishwasher. Starting the machine, you exited the kitchen to navigate your way through the living room mess. 

Now, you want to cook. Or well, you were hungry. However, your kitchen cupboards are empty apart from a few spices and essentials. At least while you’re completing this huge task, you’d like a better meal than a microwaved cheese sandwich, all soggy bread and unmelted cheese. Grabbing your coat and keys, you exit your apartment. 

While there was no certain meal in mind, you bought what you would usually buy. Some vegetables, a few fruits as snacks, and some meat. There was a general idea of food and it will have to do. 

You were staring blankly at the wall of instant noodle packages, in a deep debate with yourself if you should bother stocking on emergency noodles when a familiar voice brought you out of your trance. 

“Good afternoon!” she chirped up, and despite yourself, you found a small smile growing on your face. 

“Afternoon, kid,” you said, turning to her. 

This time she was in a purple shirt and denim overalls, her hair in pigtails with… well, who would’ve guessed? A dinosaur charm. The mere sight of it seemed to lift the heaviness in your chest. The sight was comical, but you appreciated that she was so consistent with her interests. 

When she didn’t start the conversation, you decided to take initiative for once. “Your parents send you to collect stuff again?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, I’m just here to get a juice box before heading to the playground with my friends.”

“Alright, you do that, kid,” you nodded and turned your attention back to the noodle packets with a sigh. 

“And you have a good day,” she said. “Adult.” 

Once again, you brought your attention to her. The little girl was barely holding in her giggles as you blinked at her. Then with a small smile, you sighed. 

“Very funny, kid—” she broke into a fit of giggles, all doubled over and clutching her tummy. 

Pursing your lips into a thin line you watched her with mild amusement. Adorable. 

There was something about her demeanour that just seemed to disarm you so easily. From the first interaction to every other one since, even if it only happened in the span of a few days, you looked forward to catching her and having your strange conversations. Strange because you never felt like the type to entertain children, or bother with them really. Perhaps, you were more soft-hearted than you’d imagined. 

Sighing at her still giggling figure, you tell your name. Your voice was small, almost hesitant. Though, once she recognized what you were doing she was grinning back at you. 

“I’m Danbi!” she extended her hand out and you took it, giving it a little shake. “But can I still call you an adult?” 

You don’t see why not, she clearly gleaned some sort of amusement from it. When you shrugged in response, her smile widened. 

“You can call me kid.” 

“Deal,” you nodded. “I gotta finish my groceries, but I’ll see you around, kid.” 

She chuckled, hands covering mouth and all, as if the pair of you were sharing a secret. 

“See you around, adult,” she waved and skipped away, not before releasing another bout of giggles. 

Honestly, you didn’t find it so entertaining but it seemed to make her happy. Children were so peculiar, you thought to yourself with a smile. 

Grocery shopping had been a quick task once you decided on the noodles dilemma. You got them, of course. For the sake of trying to settle your mind just slightly, you decide to explore the large gated community. There were more buildings than you could count on your hands with the hub for your needs situated in the middle. There was a large station for restaurants, groceries, and health support. The playground however was situated centrally to the buildings, along with a pool. 

It was hard not to search for that little kid that you’ve come to see over the last two days. Your momentary breath of fresh air from what seems to be the worst weekend of your life. 

Danbi was sprinting across the playground at breakneck speed. The little critter was quick. She was laughing at the top of her lungs while reaching a bright pink pole and tapped it thrice before jumping up and down. Some form of a tag game, you assumed. Her friends shoulders sagged at the sight, but she only giggled before dragging them over to the nearby benches and pulling out juice boxes for all of them. 

So the juice boxes weren’t only for herself but also her friends. Her parents must be really proud of the star they’ve raised. 

Smiling at the sight, you turned the path to your building, steeling yourself to the state of your house. The elevator ride was a quick, asocial one. You were grateful for that. Though, your luck didn’t last long. 

Just as you shuffled your grocery bags to one hand to reach for your key card, the door behind you opened. Automatically, your body froze, as if staying still would make you invisible. Of course, that is not true. 

“Good afternoon,” that faceless voice said and you internally sighed. 

Clearing your throat, you threw an awkward smile over your shoulder. “Afternoon,” you said. 

The first thing you really noticed was the warmth on your neighbour’s face. And you really didn’t know how to describe it, the feeling it stoked in your chest was almost some sort of burning… irritation, perhaps? Of course, all of your interactions with this man have been disjointed. You’ve never fully seen his face, until now, and his greetings and acts of kindness have been brief. And lastly, you definitely didn’t forget his little smile when he held the door open for you to garbage chute last night. 

Besides, you were in the strangest headspace. You were trying to strong-arm your way through your relationship breakdown. You weren’t looking to chat up neighbours. 

But unfortunately, this was undeniable. This man—your neighbour—was good. 

At whatever surface level, you could sense it. That is if your internal compass of goodness meant anything, you knew it he was good even with no solid evidence. And while that ticked you off slightly, it stumped you even more. 

Giving him a slight nod in greeting, you turned back to your door, swiping the key card quickly. The automatic lock flashes green before the clear click of unlocking could be heard. 

And at the same time, your neighbour opens his mouth. 

“Heading back from grocery shopping?” he asked, the tone gentle and well… friendly. 

Closing your eyes for a beat, you collected yourself. You could get through this. 

Then, with that same awkward smile you turned to face him fully. Your neighbour's warm smile widened just by a fraction, as if he was grateful you spoke to him. It was important to note, and again, unfortunate for you, that he didn’t seem overbearing or pushy. He didn’t seem eager to do anything, almost as if this was just a normal conversation he was having with any neighbour. He was just being neighhbourly. That is all. 

That gave you no valid excuse to not indulge him. Or at least, it felt that way. 

“Yeah, meal prepping for the week,” you shook the bags in your hand a bit, forcing a chuckle the same way you did the next question. “Are you heading out?” 

He nodded. “Visiting a friend in the western block to grab a drink.” 

“That’s nice,” you said almost flatly. This was so awkward, what were you to say to him? “Have fun.” 

“Thanks,” he said with that warm smile of his almost taunting you. There was something so familiar about him. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Actually, I wanted to apologize.” 

The words sent down a sense of dread through your body. 

He must’ve sensed it because the moment he noticed the tension, he pivoted, shaking his head more vigorously. “I just—I know you moved a few weeks or so back, but I just didn't have time to introduce myself.” 

Oh. 

Is that something people really worry about? You hoped your face didn’t express the confusion you felt. 

It was your turn to shake your head. “That’s okay, I’m pretty busy myself. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes, but it’s the neighborly thing to do to check in on, well, your neighbours,” he chuckled, his eyes almost shining with that warm smile of his. “You know, help you get used to the setting and everything?”

You were trying your best not to narrow your eyes. Why was this random man blasting the charm on you? Or was he genuinely this kind? Surely not. It wasn’t his job to do anything, in fact, you preferred it when he barely interacted with you. Though, you didn’t say exactly that.

“You’re kind, but really, it’s no trouble at all,” you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Fairly simple compound. Quiet, too.” 

“Still, I should’ve introduced myself earlier,” he said, softly tilting his head, his smile evening out into a more somber expression. “I’m San. Choi San.” 

And then he extended his hand, expectant. 

If you indulge him, this would be quick. 

Pocketing your keycard, you shake his hand and said your name. He repeated the words to himself, sounding out your name as he nodded. You took back your hand and just stared. Well, that’s introductions done. 

“You enjoy your drink,” you tried, hoping he’d get the hint this time. 

“Yes, and you, your groceries,” he said, looking down at his hand fidgeting with his own keycard. Then, he looked up at the last minute, almost hesitant. “If you ever need anything, just knock on my door, yeah?” 

Yeah, that’s a solid no. You will not be doing that. 

“Yeah, of course, thanks for the offer,” you smile. “Same here.” 

“Alright, you have a good rest of your weekend,” he gave you a two-fingered salute as he headed towards the elevator. 

“You, too,” you mumbled and hurried into your apartment. 

For some reason, you couldn’t bear to start in the living room. It was just too overwhelming. Your items, when packed, had been aligned by the nature of items, but now you wanted to separate your ex’s shit from yours but that would mean starting different piles. And that would technically mean at some point in the future, you’d have to see him again. 

You figured you’d come back to it. Again, it was not like anyone was coming in any time soon. 

Indulging in two packets of instant noodles for dinner, you started cracking on the bed frame. Honestly, a terrible idea on your part to start it so late in the night and then to do so without bothering to fully read the manual. Now you sat on the floor of your master bedroom huffing and puffing, screws and tools littered around you with a barely put together headboard. You figured you were in much better health, but attaching just two planks of wood had drained you out. 

Sighing, you pressed your palms to your eyes, hoping rubbing away the drowsiness would help. However, it was the knocking that snapped you out of your despair. 

Who could be knocking on your door at this hour? It was almost midnight.

Grunting, you stood up from the floor and dragged yourself to your main door. Evading the huge mess that is your living room, you cracked open the door just enough to see who it was.

Your neighbour. San. 

He was nervously checking back on his door, though it was closed, before turning to you. His stark black hair was tousled, invitingly soft as if he’d run his hand through it a million times. San was wearing a grey knitted cardigan, though it was askew as if hastily pulled over. Considering his checkered pajama pants, you assumed he was headed to bed before he decided to show up at your door, but made sure to look semi-decent before knocking. 

Though the expression from his face was far from tired. San’s eyebrows were pulled together, his fingers picking at his lips as he tried to formulate his words. Then with that low voice of his, he asked. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah–Yes?” you said, tone almost affronted, but you threw in a shaky smile to weaken your dormant irritation. “Why do you ask?” 

Biting his lip, San sighed. He didn’t believe you. 

“There were some noises, like something fell or…” San moved his hand to his arm, stroking his sleeve, almost self-soothing, “and I just wanted to check in if everything was okay.” 

You just stared at him. 

There might have been a few swear words thrown around when you dropped a heavy plank, completely miscalculating just how difficult it would be to lift it. And maybe, you had shoved your half complete headboard into the wall in frustration. This is not mentioning all the clattering throughout the day. 

Perhaps, you weren’t the most careful when you were unpacking. But you’d paid good money for this home, and you knew it was well-built. Figuring it was somewhat soundproof, you’d been pretty tactless. This was your own mistake. 

Plus, it was midnight. 

So this was a noise issue. 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, plastering on a genuine look of apology, “sorry about the noise.”

Well, that’s your first confrontation. Lots of firsts with your neighbour today. Wonderful. 

Though that didn’t seem to be the conclusion for San. His forehead wrinkled as he glanced around to stall. 

To convince him, you added. 

“I’m just unpacking and it’s hectic,” you throw another weak smile at him hoping it dissipates some of the awkward tension. “I’ll be more mindful of the noise. Again, sorry for the disturbance.” 

That should be enough. He can leave now. 

He didn’t. 

Instead, he sighed, pursing lips into a thin line as he deliberated. It was clear as day that the cogs in his mind were working full-time, you knew he had something to say or ask. Complain, perhaps. But it was beginning to get frustrating that he wouldn’t just spit it out—

“Alright, appreciate the apology.”

His tone said it all. San cut his losses and figured to not push. 

“Good luck with the rest of it,” he said and you shook your head. 

“I think I’m done for the night,” you tried your smile again but his expression of concern or worry or whatever pitiful look he wore didn’t seem to falter. Sighing, you tried again, “listen, I really am sorry—”

San shook his head, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt,” he nodded, almost as if trying to convince himself. He could barely look at you. “Have a good night.”

Nodding, you parroted. “Good night.” 

Waiting until he was back in his house, you watched his door for a bit. Had you not interacted with people outside of work for so long, you’d lost touch. Or was this guy just strange? It was so clear that something else was bothering him. You’d have appreciated it if he just told you straight to your face that this whole interaction was a noise complaint. 

Shutting the door, you headed to the couch. 

Tomorrow. You will deal with all of this tomorrow.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: next chapter is going to be rough y'all <3

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

taglist: @eternallyghosting @marvolos

send an ask to be added !

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Old.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “thanos with a reader who talks like he is old, but he's the same age as Thanos and cause of that Thanos teases him” - anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : Bold is in English // let’s say Thanos has TOP’s birthday because that’s what I headcanon, I don’t see him as being in his twenties but rather late thirties. // also big thanks to @lem0nshark-writes for helping me out !

He actually thought you were older than him with the way you talked, even calling you ‘hyung’ and using a more respectful language when addressing you.

You continuously called him “kid” and fussed over his way of clothing because of a weather you deemed too cold. The amount of time you gave him your jacket or scarf, not wanting him to catch a cold. Even when eating together you had to say something.

“Are you not going to finish it ?” You asked him, pointing at his barely touched plate.

“No. I’m full.”

You sighed.

“Why did you order so much if it’s to not finish it ?”

“Who cares ? I’m paying for it so I can throw it away if I want.”

“Eh ? Throw it away ? Why not ask to take it home ?”

“Don’t feel like eating the same thing twice in a row.”

You sighed again.

“This kid… Give it to me.” You said, exasperated, holding your hand out for him to give you the plate.

He chuckled lightly as he gave it to you.

“What’s so funny ?” You asked.

“You make me feel like I’m eating with my mother. Always fussing and saying it’s not polite to not finish my plate or complaining that I don’t eat enough.”

“You don’t eat enough. Even my 3-year-old niece eats more than you. And she has the appetite of a bird.”

He scoffed.

“What did I tell you ? Always complaining.”

“You sure you don’t want it anymore ? Even the meat ?”

“Yeah. Eat it.” He crossed his arms, leaning against his chair.

“You’re waiting for dessert.” You said as you finally understood why he didn’t want to eat anymore.

“Of course I am.”

“If you have space in your stomach for dessert you have space for meat ! Eat it !” You pushed the plate back before him as he tried to stop you, both arguing loudly.

You ended up leaving with a takeout box as you continued to argue on who should take it home. He always ends up being the one to lose the argument though, but even then you’re not leaving him alone as you harass him by phone to remind him to eat it.

He sometimes lies and says he did eat it when in fact he threw it away.

Your shared friends thought about telling him, but decided against it, wanting to see how long it would take him to realize you were his age. After all, you had fooled them too.

Then as his birthday approached, he thought about you, realizing he didn’t know your age or even your birth date, having never celebrated it. You had never mentioned it.

He frowned as he thought about it. No, really, you never mentioned it. Neither did your friends. Did they not know your birthday ? Were you one of those people who hated celebrating it ?

So he asked you, curious, wondering why you never mentioned it.

“Hyung, when is your birthday ?”

“Why do you ask ?”

“Because since I know you, we never celebrated it. We could’ve gone to Club Pentagon !” He said excitedly, grabbing your shoulder.

“You already go there on your own a lot. Last time was two nights ago. Do you ever think about your sleep schedule ?”

“Ah.” He sighed before whining. “Don’t change the topic and answer my question !”

“4th of September.”

“The year ?” He asked, throwing his hands in the air, growing more curious.

“1987.”

“Huh ?” He stared at you, eyes wide, shocked. You were the same year as him ? And you were only two months older ?

“What is it now ?” You asked, looking at him.

“Then why the fuck do you speak like that ?!”

“Watch your language.” You clicked your tongue, glaring at him. “And what do I speak like ?”

“Like you’re an old fart. You talk like you’re so much older than me !”

“I told you to watch your language. And I am older than you.”

“Yeah, by two months ! What is wrong with you ? Ah, I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Wait, is that why you kept calling me hyung ? And talked in a really formal manner ?”

“Fuck yeah ! I thought you were in your forties or fifties !”

You choked on your saliva, eyes growing wide as you pointed at yourself.

“Excuse me ?! Do I look that old ?” You looked at him surprised.

“No, I just thought you had aged really well.” He shrugged. “Look at Lee Dongwook or Yoo Joonsang.”

You continued staring at him, processing what he just told you.

“It’s your fault anyway.” He said. “Why do you talk like you’re so much older ?”

“I do not ?”

“Yes you do !” He chuckled. “Always calling me kid and using big and complicated words.”

“My apologies for having a better and more extended vocabulary than you ?”

“Yeah, the vocabulary of an old man.”

“Ah, come on.” You sighed. “I do not sound this old.”

“Kids.” He started, imitating you, grabbing your arm and grimacing as if he was in pain. “I don’t know if I can make it for tonight, my back is killing me. Must be the weather. Go party without me.”

You fake laughed before hitting the back of his head.

“You’ll see once you reach my age.”

“I am your age.”

“Not with the two months I have more than you. You’ll get back pain, I promise you.”

“At what hour do you go to sleep ?” He suddenly asked. You looked at him before shaking your head.

“That’s not your bu-”

“I bet you eat by 7pm and go to bed at 9.”

“10:30 actually. I have to work early in the morning.”

“It would kill you to know when I go to bed.”

“That’s not something to be proud of. You’re ruining your sleep cycle.”

He shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“Would you survive pulling an all-nighter ?”

You looked at him seriously.

“No.” You scoffed. “Last time I did one I was… 26 ? And it was because I was sick.”

He laughed, patting your back.

“Mine was two nights ago.” He said, showing you two fingers.

“How surprising.”

“For my birthday, I want you to stay at the club all night long with me. No sleep for you.”

“No. I’d rather not show up then.”

“It’s okay. I’ll show up at your place and make sure you don’t sleep.” He smiled, making a heart with his fingers.

“I’ll call the cops.” You smiled back, making hearts as well.

“As if you would.”

“Try me.”

He finds your way of talking absolutely hilarious now that he knows your age, loving to call you ‘old man’ or ‘grandpa’ and especially since he found out you go to the farmers’ market every few days.

He successfully tried to find you one day, you were arguing with some actual old man about the price of the persimmons he was selling.

Thanos approached you with a smile, already laughing. But he barely managed to say anything as you grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him, both walking away from the stand.

“10 000 won by persimmon ? Are you crazy ? You thief, you’re trying to steal your customers !” You yelled as you looked back at the old man who argued back.

“It’s the best of the harvest, you punk ! It’s because they taste so good they have that price !”

You scoffed, cursing under your breath. You wanted to turn around and go back to that old man to keep arguing but you didn’t want to entertain Thanos even more. But he seemed to have something else in mind.

“I got you.” He said before looking at him. “Your prices are too high !” He yelled with a smile just to piss off the man even more, gaining the attention of passers-by who stopped, looking at you three. “Your persimmons are shit anyway ! Too bitter and not sweet at all ! Everyone, do not buy from that man ! He will rob you !”

It was the man’s turn to scoff.

“Hey ! Hey ! You jerks ! Why are you yelling such nonsense ?! I can tell you’ve never tried them ! Why don’t you try one for free and let everyone know how good they are ?! Huh ?!”

Thanos was about to reply when you stopped him.

“Free ? Alright ! I’ll try one. But the taste will never excuse the price, you thief.” You said, approaching.

The man dug into his belongings and gave you a small spoon before carefully selecting one persimmon for you to eat.

You took what he handed you, your face looking serious. With the spoon you took off the top before digging into the fruit. You turned around, back facing the man as you brought the spoon to your mouth.

Oh.

You stabbed the fruit once more before handing the spoon to Thanos. He made the same expression as you as he swallowed his bite.

That was good.

You shared it with him as you continued to silently eat the fruit, the old man staring at you two, waiting for the verdict.

Fuck, the persimmon actually was delicious. But did it really deserve such a price ?

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Fresh off seeing the finale at last! (*´▽`*)

I will say I really, really enjoyed this episode which drives me even crazier because you guys really did save the budget for this episode FR? And it could be good... this whole season... ( I am curling into a ball and screaming). And yes, actually people being caught in the destruction! A body falling beside Conquest, people in cities, ripped apart from the very shock waves, like yes, THANK YOU.

I love Conquest so much oh my goodness, I know you're iffy on the VA but I'm giggling, thoroughly enjoying that he's an apparant outlier in the Empire, people avoid him. LIKE!!! THAT'S CRAZY! Being called a freak by the Violence is Great: The Empire is interesting! The fact there's protocols that limit what he usually does, and Earth is now an exception to the rule is a tidbit I will be chewing on furiously. The fact he whispers his soul baring secrets knowing his victims cannot tell them when they're all dead? UGH, LOVEEEEEEEE.

Conquest? Peak, I love himmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. It's so funny to me how supportive he was for Mark to try fighting him for a second, too?? Nolan step it up some random guy is doing better for your kid :/ Like, I cackled. Obligatory acknowledgment of s1e8 fight parallels and all that. I will say that (s1) fight did have a bigger crowd though, but I'll take the inclusion of people!!! I like that!!!

I will say repeating the scene of Cecil telling them to hurry up was unneeded? We got the message, my guy. Also there is something retroactively funny about Mark's Two Certified Kills being backtracked, like damn, he can't even kill one guy? I get Cecil keeping the body, I really thought he'd try analyzing the corpse or turning into the Undead Soldiers but him barely revived/secretly alive made me tilt my head a little. I understand the information standpoint, but also, damn, did Mark kill the guy or you got re-frying his brain back to motion? Because, again, it's kinda takes away Mark: I Kill Now when both his kills weren't kills.

Also, HNNGGGG Debbie what did they do to you. Rae and Debbie and Eve all being the more cry-reaction to grief like there isn't so many flavors to that shit irks meeeeeee. Rae, now the Mourning Girlfriend. Big Sigh. I know we need to see her reaction but her dynamic with Rex still upsets me. Debbie being so??? Sorrowful guilty and openly self blaming also irked me. I miss when she threw a wine bottle at Nolan. What I'd give to see her angry again. Like, her allowing Oliver to go was so crazy to me? Like that's a Viltrumite. You know he's not gonna leave when it gets serious? I liked Eve never explained that whole thing (I'd love if she was guarded, and secretive as potential contrast to s visibly distressed and chatty Mark) and it WAS COOL seeing her changing density and doing some real damage, I wish saw that kind of shit before, pre-Super Eve Mode ofc.

Slightly confused why Oliver didn't seem phased by nearly snapped in half like a toothpick, though, even if it some hesitation. Like, bro, your teeth fell out. Your tormentor described how your body will rip. You felt it.

But what drives me FUCKING INSANE is that if we simply reordered the fucking season, Mark ended it with WANTING to kill (hiding Conquest's survival, let linger at Cecil eyeing the body, employee saying "Your orders, sir?" for ambiguity, because it takes it away to me???? Am I crazy???), AND STARTING it with being SO irrationally anti-kill would've been PEAK. Mark says he doesn't kill but he never shows it. It feels more like he's too inexperienced to kill on purpose, when he keeps fucking losing for around 6/8-ish of a WHOLE SEASON, if not refusing to fight. If Mark doesn't kill, like you said, it should get in the way. It should be extreme. It should cost him so he's pushed to the brink. Literally seeing him struggle with Seismic, trying not harm Multi-Pauls, the dragon, not because he feels irritatingly weak (consequence you do not show me him holding back, like a clenched fist, or a moment of rage before he calms himself down), but because he's holding back to the point of irrationality.

Cecil calling Mark the strongest irks me to this day, that mf stays losing??? You're saying one thing and showing another. Is every hero just that much weaker, so this is all we got? Also surprised Cecil didn't try shutting her down as a power grab as he would Mark, but then again Cecil has tunnel vision for that kid, clearly.

BUT, LIKE YOU SAID, OPENING WITH POWERPLEX WOULD BE BRILLIANT. It justifies his anti-kill policy since hitting him literally escalates the situation, and every situation after should challenge him further and further. Or, if he does kill here and there, show me him desperately rationalizing it, so when he deliberately chooses it, it's A CHANGE. Like, he insists he "defeated" the other him's, or it doesn't count because it's just him. Or Levy made him, and then he escaped anyway. Then, someone ask would you have killed him? If he didn't escape? With Mark denying/lashing out, of course, he wouldn't, he's not Nolan! Or, he didn't mean to so it doesn't count, it can't count. Let his mf deny it so badly. Let him be so challenged he struggles to even process it's not feasible.

Like, how delicious (to me lol) would be the Cecil V. Mark be if Mark won't even admit he killed people? Like have him be absurdly anti-kill.

And yeah, it just seems like they meant one thing, but are showing another? Or their attempts aren't landing because they won't show us Mark thinking or establish where he is from the get go and have that build smoothly. Literally, Mark repressing so fucking hard would be interesting! Mark avoiding it makes sense! Have him talk about everything around subjects. Oliver asks about Nolan, and Mark gives him stories of Nolan, not answering the question. Have him talk, since he clearly yaps at Eve, but a demonstration of his avoidance and desperation. Sighs, opens another google doc lol.

AND YES EXACTLY! Make him realize they're people, and they're him. He can almost forget what they're doing, because it's fun taking about comics and their favorite things, tiny dimensional differences, and Mark saying cartoonishly evil things makes me cackle. Sinister Mark glares him down and he blurts about drowning orphans or something and everyone's sold. I'm crying. Mark tries gathering info and they're just joking with each other. They all don't like Levy, and Mark joins in on a rant and they agree with him, but he remembers who they choose to be, and sours. oh my goodness, "him having to really face how much of what he does is a choice. him getting to struggle w what that choice means" <- peak, exactly, exactly. Mark chooses who he can be, and that kind of stuff weighs on him.

And exactly? I wrote her for the two-shot, and I won't pretend I'm suddenly like rewriting 100% world building, but I realize she can easily comment or know about so much more stuff than Mark does, like the new head canon news channels/articles/etc aren't allowed to post Hero identities, which would explain how these mfs walk around maskless. It can ground the world into reality by explaining how any of this functions for daily living, commenting on both hero aspect and the civilian's.

The insistence to make people only existing with relationships is soooooo irritating. Can any of you guys stand on your own? It's so annoying! Like, I already wary of most romances, personally, it's the ace-aro partially, I don't get it, but I also know when it's not written well? Like, I want to want to care about Eve and Mark but I can't. I am neutral to Paul, at best but he also retracts from Debbie screen time! Back away! Back I say! Like, does she even like him? I know assumingly, but if I'm not crazy, he liked her, first, no? And she's giving him a shot. Correct me though, the irritation may be painting my memories lol.

Also if Debbie can pull werid alien then have her new interest be interesting at least. Also the demon thing is something? For a second I was horrified it was gonna be the mummy again and lose my shit.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[girlpetrarca]

What do you mean you're going to belittle my entire university experience after I've been downplaying this thing for months?

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[hauntingblue]

LUFFY!!!!!!!!! I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!! LUFFY BELIEVER FULL TIME!!!!! LET US WORSHIP THE SUN!!!!

[vcutparis]

i think i am Healed. i felt recognized here wow. warms hugs for u author! (spoilers in the tags)

subtle variations of heartbreak (index)

Summary:  a series of stand alone one-shots depicting every kind of heartbreak you will undoubtedly experience in your 20s

Pairing: fem. reader x Ateez

Genre: college au, high school au, oh boy lovers to exes, unrequited love, friends with benefits, like a whole lotta angst read with caution, fluff, smut

Warnings: a LOT of insecurity talk, sexual content, cheating, trust issues, communication warnings idk i’ll add if theres anything else

A/N: this will be a short series, one chapter for each member. they can be read as stand-alones but they’re all tied together kinda. i’ll warn you right now i doubt you will like any of these characters because theyre all going to break your heart so… idk when i’ll post the first part, maybe tomorrow or later on in the week. 

if anyone would like to be added to the taglist just dm me :)

MY  MAIN MASTERLIST!

INDEX:

1. The First Love

drabbles: this is what i have to do

2. The Hookup Buddy

3. The Blind Sider

drabbles: (don’t wanna) be responsible

4. The Game Changer

drabbles: dream of her

5. The One That Got Away

drabbles: the winner takes it all

6. When You End It

drabbles: messy as you want

7. Friends Can Break Your heart Too

8. The Cheater

drabbles: no good

                part-time lovers

9. The One 

drabbles : (not) my baby

                 still into you

                 sleepover

[rafesangelita]

♡ rafe accidentally puts barry on speaker..

warnings: enemies to ???, bitchy!kook!reader might make some of you frustrated but please just trust the process loll, teasing, flirty banter, majorrrr sexual tension, slight angst, mentions of absent parents/abandonment, arguing

a/n: this is part four of this mini series <3 i cannot believe i’m writing one more part to this before it’s over. thank you to everyone who continue to show their love and support, it truly means so much to me!!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.0k

“you’re going over to rafe’s and you didn’t even tell me?!” chanel shot up from her spot on your bed while you ran around your room trying to put an outfit together. “i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay?! all he said was that we got off on the wrong foot and he wants to start over. that’s it.” chanel arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “he sooo wants to fuck you, please tell me you’re not playing coy just to give him the benefit of the doubt.” you stayed silent, avoiding her gaze.

“y/n—”

“nothing is gonna happen between us. you and topper are dating now, so it would only be fair if me and rafe could at least try to get along since we’ll be around each other a lot more.” your best friend scoffed, not buying a single word that was coming out of your mouth. “don’t use me and topper as your excuse for giving rafe a chance, just say you’re interested in him! it’s totally fine if you are..” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head as you scanned your closet for a pair of heeled boots. “wow, chanel. i’m honestly offended that you think i’d ever give rafe a real shot.”

slipping on your shoes, you cursed under your breath as chanel watched you struggle with the zipper. “well, excuse me,” she strutted off, plopping down on your bed once again, “i just thought since you were totally eye fucking him out on the golf course the other day that you’d at least have agreed because there was some kind of attraction there.” you huffed. of course she’d bring that up. “i may have called him every single name in the book, but i never said he wasn’t handsome, alright? anyone with eyes would tell you the same thing.” you rolled your eyes once you heard her cackle. “whateverrr!”

one hour and three outfit changes later, and you found yourself posing for chanel’s camera as she snapped pictures of you in your sexy getup. “it should be a crime that you look this hot and you’re just going to rafe’s house. like he seriously needs to take you to the mainland and show you off or something.” you were quick to grab your purse and make your way downstairs once you saw that you were already running thirty minutes late. “will you be here when i get back?” you asked her, spritzing some perfume in the curve of your neck. “uhh, duh! i’m gonna need all the dirty details..”

you took that as your cue to leave. “not happening!” you called out, making your way down to the car out front. chanel waited until you got in before stepping back inside. the drive wasn’t long, considering rafe only lived about eight minutes away from you. it wasn’t until you were standing in front of rafe’s door that you realized you probably should’ve asked for his number back when you two talked at the country club. oh, god. you two haven’t even had any kind of communication since then.

what if he wasn’t home?

..or worse; what if he completely forgot about the whole thing and you were standing out here like a total idiot?

“this is stupid..” you whispered, looking back to see if your car was still there. before you could overthink, you stepped back once you heard the door unlock, the hardwood opening up to reveal rafe in a collared shirt that made his biceps look like they were going to burst through the fabric. “i thought you stood me up there for a minute.” he moved aside, motioning for you to come in before shutting the door behind you. “i almost did..” rafe snorted at your words, shaking his head before taking the view of you in.

“you look— wow..” you watched as his eyes raked down your figure, his jaw ticking once he saw how revealing your dress was. “you like it?” you turned around, looking back at him through your lashes. swallowing thickly, rafe didn’t say a word as he lead you two over to the living room with his hand resting in the small of your back. “for someone who swore they weren’t trying to sleep with me, the candles aren’t really convincing..” you looked around his set up, the living room being illuminated by the soft flickers of candle flames along with a bottle of wine and two glasses that sat in the middle of the coffee table.

“oh, so you’re saying i have a chance?” rafe sat you down, wasting no time in pouring you both a drink. crossing one leg over the other, you let your dress ride up your thighs before humming. “mmm, no.” rafe sighed, handing you a glass before settling in next to you. “we’ll see about that.” you ignored the way your stomach flipped once rafe draped an arm across your shoulders, your cheeks heating at how close he was. taking a sip from your glass, you glanced at him briefly before relaxing in his hold.

silence fell over you two and you swore rafe could hear your heart beating out of your chest. “am i tripping, or are you nervous right now?” you laughed, the sound making you inwardly cringe. “you wish, ‘cameron.” rafe smiled at your obvious facade. he could see right through you. “it’s kinda hard to tell,” he lied, “i mean— you show up to my place looking like this, i’d assume the last thing you could feel right now is nervous.” his mouth was right next to your ear, the bass of his voice making you squirm in your seat.

“that’s your problem,” you breathed out shakily, “you’re always just assuming things.” rafe tongued his cheek, his gaze flickering down to your lips. “speaking of that..” he trailed off, “i know i already apologized to you last time we talked, but i want you to know that i truly do regret speaking about you in a negative light.” you knew he was being sincere by the way he was looking at you. “it’s fine,” you waved him off, “it wouldn’t be the first time someone called me a bitch. ‘spoiled little brat’ isn’t a new one either, i just wish people understood that even that title comes with a cost.” rafe’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“what do you mean by that?” the last time this same exact topic came up, you shut down and put your defenses back up once you realized the conversation was veering towards your relationship, or lack there of, with your parents. you were so tired of being misunderstood, you decided that you’d just let rafe know about the very things you became accustomed to hiding. “i’m still paying for everything that i have and everything that i continue to buy, just not in the way that you might think..”

“how then?” you closed your eyes for a moment. there was no coming back from this. “my parents just give me everything because they feel guilty— guilty for not being there.. like ever.” you laughed incredulously. “not there?” rafe repeated, “your parents have their own column in kildare’s newspaper, they have to be here.” you shook your head, taking another drink from the wine in your glass. “no, they don’t.. i haven’t seen or heard from them in eight months.” rafe’s eyes widened. “what? well where the hell are they?!” he spoke up.

“it’s ironic. they actually bought another house on the mainland and didn’t tell me shit about it. i found out a while back when i opened the congratulatory letter from their realtor. ‘guess they haven’t had a chance to change their postal address yet.” rafe took a minute to put your words together, his arm leaving your shoulders so he could rub his temples. “so let me get this straight,” he started, “you’ve been all by yourself in that empty house of yours for months now, and in order for your parents to ‘make up’ lost time, they just give you money so that they don’t feel bad for essentially abandoning their daughter?” you winced as soon as you heard it.

you hadn’t come to terms with the ‘a’ word just yet, though it’s been lingering in the back of your mind since you were a little girl. “i don’t know about ‘abandoning’ per say, they still support me..” your voice cracked and you hated it. the sound drew rafe’s attention immediately. “uh, yeah— with money. but what else?” he scoffed. “what else could i possibly need? in their minds; i have it all. which i kind of do, but it all means nothing at the end of the day when i have a dining table that can sit twenty people and i’m the only one sitting at it.” your last sentence hit particularly close to home for rafe, especially since he has spent countless evenings eating dinner by himself at his own oversized table.

he could see the hurt written all over your face. you two weren’t so different after all. “i’m sorry.” rafe’s voice barely came out above a whisper, his hand finding your knee as you shook your head. “don’t be. i’ve stopped the pity party a long time ago,” you cleared your throat, “please say something about you now because i don’t think i could handle being the only one in the hot seat.” rafe’s mind started reeling as he was unsure of what to say.

“uhm, well— since we’re on the topic of fucked up parents..”

for the next hour and a half, rafe gave you the full rundown of him and his dad’s relationship, not leaving out a single detail as you listened to him intently. “as much as i wanted to make my dad proud of me, everything i did was never enough for him. i was a fuck up for a long time but i stepped up when he couldn’t and he never recognized that.” you and rafe had long since forgotten about your wine glasses, and were now taking turns drinking from the actual bottle itself. “if he hated me then, he would hate me even more now.” he sighed, leaning all the way back into the cushions of the sofa.

you blinked once you saw him manspread, the alcohol taking its effect as it ran through your system. “why?” your voice came out higher than usual, the sound being a dead giveaway that you were now officially tipsy. “because.. i don’t have my family together the way he would’ve wanted. rose, my dad’s wife, took my little sister to an undisclosed location and deactivated her phone so it’s impossible for me to have direct communication with her, and sarah ran off without telling me any details, so she could be pretty much anywhere, and yeah, that sums everything up.”

you stared at the side of rafe’s face, his features being highlighted by the soft light flickering in the room. in your current position you could feel rafe’s chest rise and fall with each breath, the warmth of his body against your own making you feel fuzzy inside. rafe had his hand resting comfortably on the side of your thigh, your legs draped across his lap as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “it sounds like we’re just lonely people.” you whispered, wrapping an arm around his waist. oddly enough, rafe didn’t expect you to make him feel this comfortable so fast.

while he was sure it was the alcohol that made you lighten up and actually cling to him, he realized quickly that he liked feeling you close. “you know.. i could surround myself with all of my friends, go to parties where the living room is filled to the fucking brim, and yet, right now is the first time i can genuinely say that i don’t feel alone with you right here next to me.” your heart fluttered in your chest at his words. you didn’t realize just how bad you needed to be understood by someone until now.

you don’t know when, but you found yourself leaning into him, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pulled you towards his lips. you couldn’t believe this was happening, sober or not, you’ve known all along that the bickering and fighting was building up just for this very moment.

..and then his phone rang.

you were less than an inch away from each other, both of you freezing right before your lips could meet. “fuck.” he pulled away, making you purse your lips together as he took the device out of his pocket. following his line of vision, you looked down at the contact name. barry. your eyebrows knitted in confusion. who the hell could that be, and why did they have to call right this second? “shit, i gotta take this,” he cursed under his breath, “i’ll be right back. promise.” you smiled softly, giving him a small nod.

it’s fine, you needed to reapply your lipgloss anyways.

out of habit, rafe put his old friend on speaker, the volume loud enough for you to hear the unfamiliar voice from the kitchen. “what.” rafe sounded irritated once he spoke into the receiver.

“country club!” you felt your heart drop at the name, “where the fuck have you been? you’re too ‘rich boy’ to swing by and drink a beer on the cut?” your stomach twisted as you felt your blood run cold.

country club. the cut. your past conversations with your so called ‘mystery’ man ran through your head, everything that you once suspected now coming to fruition. oh, god, how could you have missed all of the signs? the night you two both went on a date.. the same date where you sent him nudes in the bathroom of his own boat. his little ‘cute skirt.’ comment after you texted him saying that you were wearing one in hopes for him to find you somewhere. suddenly you felt like the room was getting smaller, your sanity hanging on by a single thread.

no, you had to be overthinking this. surely, rafe couldn’t be your guy. if he was, that means he has known who you are behind the screen for who knows how long? just as you stood up, rafe came back into the living room. “sorry about that, it was nothing—” you cut him off, “country club?” he froze. it wasn’t until he saw the mortified look on your face that he realized he made the grave mistake of putting barry’s call on speaker. eyeing the front door behind him, rafe lunged for you the second you tried to leave the living room.

“y/n—” he grabbed your shoulders, your eyes watering out of embarrassment. “you can’t be him.” you shook your head as he backed you up into the wall. “i am, though,” he took ahold of your wrists so you could stop thrashing against him, “i am him.” you felt a shiver run down your spine at the confirmation. “and you’re you. you’re mine.” you scoffed, turning your head away from his view. “let go of me.” rafe didn’t budge, your frustration only growing.

“i found out you were my girl after our date on the druthers. the same necklace, the nails.. the things you’ve said to me in person being repeated over the phone. i knew it was you.” you whimpered, still trying to get out of his grip. “i’m not your girl, don’t call me that.” rafe smiled, his broad build towering over you with ease. “you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. in case you forgot, we both did some things.”

“shut the fuck up.” you finally managed to push him away, your hands flying to pull the hem of your dress down. “why would you go on without telling me anything, don’t you realize how fucking stupid i must feel right now?!” you cried out. “i wanted you to find out once you felt ready to, okay?! what happened right now was a mistake on my part, i’m sorry!”

“there’s no ‘me and you’, i’m not yours, and you aren’t mine. this should’ve never happened.” rafe hated how those words sounded coming out of your mouth. “the switch up is crazy.” he laughed, shaking his head. “just five minutes ago you were ready to kiss me, and right before that we spent nearly two hours discussing our differences and being vulnerable with each other. now what?” you let out a breath. “we would never work. let’s just leave it at that—” rafe was already disagreeing with you before you could finish your sentence.

“i won’t just ‘leave’ it. i can’t.” he stepped closer. “you’re saying we’ll never work, but you won’t even try.” rafe scoffed, “who’s stopping us? is this like an ego thing? say the word and i’ll set you straight right now.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your body reacted to his words. “you really sat there in my face and acted clueless..” you glared at him, “you know things about me that no one else— not even my best friend, knows about,” you whispered, “this is too much for me right now.”

sniffling, you felt relief wash over you once you heard a honk outside. “don’t leave,” rafe pulled you from walking to the front door, “please, we could figure something out.” without another word, you left, rafe’s voice calling out to you with each step you got closer to the car. you were able to compose yourself before you got home, thankful that chanel was knocked out cold so you wouldn’t have to recap the shitty night you just had.

taking your phone out of your purse, you were met with multiple messages from rafe himself.

[11:44 PM] country club from tumblr <3 : i’m not letting you run away from this.

[11:45 PM] country club from tumblr <3 : we see each other everyday y/n, we’re gonna have to talk this out at some point.

[11:47 PM] country club from tumblr <3 : i’m sorry.

[11:47 PM] country club from tumblr <3 : you have every reason to be mad at me, i could understand that.

[11:48 PM] country club from tumblr <3 : look. i have to go on the mainland for some business stuff but i’ll be staying at the ‘paradise’ hotel for the next week. i’ll be there any time after eight, i’ll text you my room details when i get checked in. please just come see me.

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @xcinnamonmalfoyx @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you’ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.

[smallfisheyes]

one suggestive paragraph hehe.

nanami kento who just doesn’t love you.

he tries. really. you are so easy to love, but he just can’t seem to love you more than admiration; more than the god-awful belittling role of a friend.

you are kind. he has seen you pick children from rubble. you had single-handedly halted an impeding panic attack that consumed the fushiguro boy. you pay out of pocket so that the children can do normal student activities: arts and crafts, team building activities, classroom and party decorations. he’s watched you be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, defending innocents with, laughing with, but for some reason, he just can’t love you.

nanami kento who makes you cry because he says he loves you. trust him, he loves you so much, but as a friend. you had confessed your love for him. he broke your heart.

it was in the parking lot of your favourite post-mission meeting spot: the convenience store. (it’s family-owned, kento had said to you on your first visit as he gently took you by the elbow. it was his retreat. it would be yours too. you cradled the side of your face, your one eye badly bruised and rapidly swelling. you’ll like it here, he insisted. i promise).

the son was at cash that dark morning. kento would get the egg sandwich and coffee, you a banana milk and noodles.

“i’m on a mission to try every flavour,” you had declared one night, feet kicking and humming into your first dinner.

you had shrimp-flavoured noodles that fateful early morning. it was around 2:00 a.m., two second-grade curses with paired techniques. the following day, nanami turned down the offer of a sushi lunch with shoko. he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing shrimp tempura.

nanami kento who understands why you can no longer look him in the eye when you pass each other in the halls. you walk a tempo faster, a cold wind whisked up from your sudden distance and speed. it stings as you pass by. it stings when you rush to exit the staff room when he enters. he only dares to watch you when your back is turned and retreating far, far away from him. something under his sternum aches. he misses you. don’t you know?

it’s so hard to avoid him. he’s so big and he’s everywhere. he’s at work, he’s in the staff office, he’s in your mind. curses, he’s always in your mind.

before, fleeting images of nanami passed by. his small smiles. the big ones you managed to pull because “your humour is so childish,” so ridiculously stupid, but so stupid it makes him laugh anyway. the rumble of his voice that soothes you to sleep, especially the hard nights.

there are also the nights that your hand sneaks below the covers, then the hem of your pants, and thoughts of him doing less than innocent things run like a leaky faucet. it floods your mind, and suddenly, you can’t sleep. the only solution is to keep going until you’re tired. yes, that’s reasonable. besides, how could you not, not when he looked like that.

“what’s with you?” nanami would ask the next morning, then the morning after that, then every morning. it took you about half an hour some mornings (then most) to look him in the eye, your hands trembling around the mug he handed you. did he do something wrong? did he make you uncomfortable? should he back off? (or get back on?). stop thinking like that.

so, why can’t you seem to hate him?

you have seen him pick children from rubble. you have watched nanami perform four black flashes in succession during the black parade when it mattered most: students injured left and right. he pays out of pocket for lunches: yours and the students, with an exception of gojo. (he has a black card, kento ranted into his black coffee. he doesn’t need charity, just an ego check). you’ve watched him be the most beautiful human that you’ve had the privilege of watching, fighting with, laughing with, but for some reason, you love him and he just can’t love you.

if he does not love you, you fear who he does love. would she have long hair? short? curly hair? straight? does she have an excellent taste in fashion? is it more refined or street fashion? lolita or office-type? does she stand taller than you? is she funnier? does she have a million degrees and you’re out on the field doing the exact job nanami despises and fears? is she skinnier? prettier? the woman he would love (loves?) would just be better. he deserves better.

you cannot blame nanami kento for not loving you.

unknowing to him though, he does.

nanami kento stands at the till at the (your) convenience store.

“where’s your buddy?” it’s the son today, the one in desperate need of a haircut. he looks to be in his twenties. he scans nanami’s items: egg sandwich, transparent bandaids, a single carton of banana milk.

“by buddy, if you mean my partner, she is not with me,” nanami notes.

buddy. nanami wants to scoff. what an odd way of describing you.

“sorry, man.” the boy holds his hands out in apology. “didn’t realize you guys were together.”

there is a brief shock that pulls at nanami’s eyes. they widen, his mouth narrowing. together. why was that a less odd way of describing you?

nanami doesn’t notice his chest rising and falling rapidly. “she is my partner at work,” he corrects. he speaks in a murmur, eyes downcast. he studies the yellow carton on the till counter. banana milk. he didn’t even like it that much. a childish drink; childish humour. so full of energy but only experienced by a select special few. (why did you think he’s so special?)

“hmm,” the boy hums. “thought you guys were together. she seemed super into you. she looked at you like,” the boy shrugs his shoulders nonchantly, pressing buttons on the till screen, “like you meant a lot.”

nanami’s stomach sinks. he has to be the worst.

the convenience store bell tolls when nanami exits, paper bag in hand. the coolness of the night hits him. from this far out, he can see the speckle of the stars.

partner, nanami muses. the name suits you. it suits you and him: a pairing. together, as friends.

but not for long.

sorry guys but does anyone else wonder what would happen if nanami didn’t love you? and you love him? i do it all the time lol. if i feel it y’all have to feel it >:)

also it’s 2:00 am here please excuse the thought vomit.