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lvis44 · 9 months

Text

Freak Like That // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Angst, Kind of Cheating? (depends on how you look at it), Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Not Edited/Proofread

Word Count: 8.9k+

Summary: Seeing him again shouldn't be as hard as it is, but the universe has funny ways of making sure you end up back in his arms.

Notes: I'm aware I said this was coming like 3 weeks ago but your girl has her first corporate job that has been much more demanding week by week so I've been busy!! I toyed with turning this into more of a fic so if you're interested in a pt.2 of them LMK. Sweet Escape Epilogue is still on its way but has turned into a bit of a stand alone fic within a chapter, don't hate me, or maybe you'll love me for it. I didn't proofread this and wrote part of it while I was a tad bit drunk, oopsie! Love you all!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

It had taken everything in you to move on from Lewis. You had done everything in your power to forget him, how he felt, how good he was to you, but the thought of him always lingered. You would have been a fool to ever think that anything could ever truly happen between the two of you, you were mature enough to know it was always just sex, it would always be just sex. That didn’t mean you never fantasized about how it would feel to be loved by him. It was never a relationship between the two of you, there was never any commitment from him. He had been more of a fuck buddy, a sugar daddy in many senses. He was older than you, detached, and loved to shower you with gifts. You only ever had his attention in private, and when you did he made you see stars. Lewis had always managed to unlock something within you that you didn’t know existed, bringing alive senses you’d never felt. He taught you things about your body and needs that you had been so naive to. No one had ever been able to compare to him. Parting from him had been one of the most difficult tasks you had ever been faced with, but you knew the agreement between the two of you wasn’t sustainable, you were only ever destined for heartbreak if you continued with him. You had done so well for the last year, ignoring his texts, doing your best to avoid his heavy presence online. Him being in the same room as you however, was something that you were not prepared for. He looked ethereal, his beige suit jacket showing off just a peak of his chest, enough to force the images back into your head, his tattoos glistening above you as he wears you out. He has one braid hanging perfectly in front of his face, all you can think of is how his braids felt tickling your neck when he would pant dirty words into your sticky skin.

“Y/N? You okay darling?” The voice that came from beside you startled you. When you looked to your side, your boyfriend was looking at you with concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry about that, just zoned out for a second.” You try to fake laugh it off, not wanting him to pry.

He continues to look suspicious but doesn’t press any further, instead seamlessly transitioning into a conversation with one of the businessmen standing with him. You find your attention returning back to where Lewis had stood, his attention now fully on you. His smirk is knowing as he drags his eyes shamelessly up and down your body. You have to use every ounce of power in yourself to pull your eyes away from him as one of your boyfriends business partners directs a question to you. You put your fake smile on, engaging in boring conversation as you do your best to ignore the strong presence that is Lewis. You had been worried that one day you would run into him, your boyfriend working in the fashion industry made it almost inevitable.

You managed to stay relatively strong throughout the night, the champagne helping immensely. Lewis had disappeared into the crowd and you had done your absolute best not to look for him. You spent your evening tailing behind your boyfriend, being introduced to random men that you assumed worked in the same circles as him. Your boyfriend kept his hand on your lower back throughout most of the night, the only acknowledgement that you were even really there. He was a fine man, he had taken his time winning you over, taken you on romantic dates, but the spark still wasn’t there, and the arguments were becoming more and more frequent. You knew he cared about you, treated you well, but he was simply the safest option, and he was getting sick of your lack of interest in his work. You were growing increasingly tired of being his arm candy, using you to show off to his business partners. The intimacy lacked passion, nothing matched the raw passion you had with Lewis once upon a time. It wasn’t fair to compare him to Lewis, he was actually there to be your partner, not just a fun time, but it was almost impossible.

“There’s only a few more people I need to talk to and then I promise we can go.” Your boyfriend whispered into your ear. You couldn’t wait to get out of your heels and be in a quiet room, away from the people faking sincerity in hopes of investments and business opportunities.

You grab another glass of champagne as your boyfriend orders an Old Fashion before once again pulling you along through the crowd of people, evidently in search of someone.

“Ah, there he is.” You hear him exclaim, not yet able to see who he’s approaching.

When you come out from behind him you want to scream, he has approached Lewis, completely unaware of the situation he has just put you in.

“It’s so fantastic to meet you, I’m Brian, we work with a lot of the same people around here. It’s an honor, I’m a big fan.” Your boyfriend extends his hand to Lewis eagerly.

You can’t help but be confused, your boyfriend has never once mentioned racing, you can only assume he’s a fan of his work in fashion, or he’s lying.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis responds politely with a small chuckle, returning the handshake before turning his attention to you, “and always wonderful to see you Y/N.”

You want to melt into the earth below you. You can see the devious look in his eyes, blatantly announcing your familiarity, you thank god your boyfriend doesn’t know the depth of familiarity you have with the man in front of you, not yet at least.

“You two know each other?” Your boyfriend asks, confusion covering his face.

“Oh yeah, we know each other well. Y/N hasn’t told you?” Lewis continues, a wide smile across his beautiful lips. To anyone else it would look kind and genuine, but you know he’s playing at something else, daring you, challenging your boyfriend in the simplest of ways.

“No she’s never-“ Your boyfriend starts before you cut him off.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other well, we’ve just met at things like this before.” You rush out, it’s not entirely a lie, that is exactly how you first met him. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know the rest.

Lewis sends you a smirk, cocky and mischievous.

“All I can say man is you landed a very talented woman.” Lewis says to your boyfriend, the words falling off his lips in such a tone that your stomach flips.

“She is pretty incredible.” Your boyfriend smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist, completely oblivious to the meaning behind Lewis’ words. You can see out of the corner of your eye how Lewis glances down at the action, his jaw tightening momentarily.

Your boyfriend is on a mission, immediately transitioning into talking business with Lewis. You do your best not to undress him with your eyes, opting to look down at his feet throughout most of the conversation. You can feel Lewis glance at you every once in a while, trying so hard to ignore the way his gaze makes you feel. As you hear someone calling your boyfriends name you think you are finally free from the situation.

“So sorry, it sounds like I’m needed elsewhere, it was truly great meeting you, it was an honor.” Your boyfriend says to Lewis, shaking his hand once again before turning to you. You're ready to follow after him, happy to be dragged into yet another boring conversation, “Why don’t you stay here and catch up for a moment, I’ll find you later.”

He doesn’t give you even a moment to object as he presses a kiss to your temple and quickly makes his exit. You both watch as your boyfriend walks away, you in fear of the situation he’s left you in, Lewis in excitement of the exact same thing.

“Soooo,” Lewis draws out, finally looking directly at you, “how have you been?”

“Seriously?” You bite at him, unamused by his behavior.

He just shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, the glass barely hiding his amused smirk.

“What the hell was that? There’s no reason he needs to know anything.” You say, your tone low and harsh.

He just laughs, “There’s no way youre fucking that dude. I doubt that square can make you cum. Not the way I did.”

“Lewis,” You hiss at him, looking around hoping no one heard him, “he’s good to me, leave him alone.”

“So I’m right, he can’t make you cum can he.” His words come out as a statement not a question, so confident in himself, in his knowledge of your needs.

“Untrue, he’s perfectly fine, and he offers so much more than you ever did.” You throw back at him, not happy at his assessment of your relationship, he has no right to assume anything. Even if he’s partially correct.

“He might not break your heart baby, but I doubt he can break your back the way I did.” He’s gotten closer to you, his voice lower, seductive.

You can feel your breath hitch, the familiar smell of him engulfing your senses, his words going to your core unwillingly. He notices it too, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. All you can think about is how that same tongue has felt in your mouth, all over your body, inside of you, so many times. He chuckles as he watches you get lost in thought, knowing exactly where your mind has wandered.

“He’s gonna be busy for a while, we could relive some old times.” Lewis says quietly, his head gesturing back toward the hall where the bathrooms are.

“Lewis, no.” You say against your will, desperately wanting to follow him mindlessly down the hall and let him have his way with you, but you can’t let yourself do it to your boyfriend.

“Offer stands, always, ya know when you finally get sick of him.” Lewis says casually.

Within moments your boyfriend has appeared at your side once again. You worry that he’s heard something but he seems unbothered, unaware of what you were just offered.

“Vance and I are going to go grab drinks down the street, talk about the contract somewhere a little quieter.” He says to you, ignoring Lewis entirely.

You sigh, realizing just how much longer your night had just gotten, “I really just want to head back to the hotel.”

“Really? You know these meetings always go better when you’re around. You take the focus off of me.” He half complains half laughs.

“We’ve been here forever babe, I really just want to get out of my dress.” You say softly, trying to get out of the boring boys club meeting.

“You’ll be fine, besides how would you even get back to the hotel? I need to have the car take Vance and I and you’re never going to find a cab with all of this going on.” He gestures back towards that large party, his voice starting to sound annoyed.

“I’ll figure something out, I really just want to go back to the hotel, the day has been long enough as is.” You sigh, hoping he lets it go.

“C'mon babe, we’re supposed to be a team.” He continues to try to convince you.

Never have you been part of his business ventures, only the arm candy that he brings to meetings when he is trying to show off to someone.

“And we are, I’m just not up to staying out so late tonight.” You say, growing agitated, embarrassed that this conversation is happening in front of Lewis.

“We won’t be out late.” Your boyfriend continues to argue, “And how are you even going to get to the hotel?”

“I’ve got a car coming in just a little bit, I’ll get her back.” Lewis pipes up before you can respond, not looking at you but directing his attention to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend lets out a frustrated huff before conceding.

“That would be great, I appreciate it man.” Your boyfriend agrees without asking you, shaking Lewis’ hand.

“Anytime, don’t worry, she’ll be well taken care of.” The smile on Lewis’ face is so sweet you could almost believe he is just being polite.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even say another word to you, walking away toward his business partners after patting you on the shoulder.

“He evidently trusts you.” Lewis says, raising his eyebrow at you.

“He has absolutely no reason not to.” You fire back at him, feeling defensive.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Lewis ignores you, wiggling his now empty drink in the air.

“I thought your car was going to be here in a second.” You say, raising an accusatory brow at him as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I said it would be here in a little bit,” Lewis starts, taking note of your eye roll at his words, “It will be fine, I’ll have you back before Prince Charming gets his drunk ass back to your room.”

“He’s not drunk.” You defend him unnecessarily, making Lewis laugh.

“If he’s getting drinks with Vance, he definitely will be by the time he’s back. Come have a drink with me, I’ve missed you.” Lewis shakes his head, evidently familiar with the man your boyfriend is getting drinks with.

“You’ve missed me?” The words come out of your mouth without meaning to, you’re genuinely surprised he’s even thought of you since you parted ways.

“Yes, of course I have,” He laughs, directing you toward the bar, “I always enjoyed myself with you. I still don’t get why you left.” His voice sounds vulnerable as he lets the last bit slip.

“You know exactly why I left.” You say, mindlessly following him to the bar against your better judgment.

“No I really don’t, you never really gave me an explanation. You just disappeared.” Lewis argues with you, keeping his voice low as he directs you onto a bar stool.

“Lewis, we both know nothing about what we were doing was sustainable. There’s no way you could have ever given me what I need.” You sigh, not wanting to have this conversation, especially not in public.

“And what is it that you need? Some guy that can’t satisfy you? You’re really trying to tell me that you’re happier with him than you were with me?” Lewis continues to push you, waving down the bartender.

“Lewis, I was never with you, and besides that, you have no idea what our relationship is like.” You defend yourself, not directly answering him.

“I think I saw enough to know that you’re not having fun.” Lewis shoots back at you, waiting for the bartender to make his way over to the two of you.

“It’s not about fun, it’s about stability.” You say, trying to stand your ground.

“You deserve both.” Lewis mumbles as the bartender appears in front of you.

Lewis orders for you, not needing to ask what you want, confident in his prior experience with you.

Your mind wanders back to the rare times that you would go out in public with him, hidden in the back corner of dive bars. The two of you getting tipsy off of shitty drinks before falling into bed together. It was rare times like those that made you fantasize about actually being in a relationship with him, dream about what your life would be like with him giggling through kisses as a permanent fixture.

“What have you been up to?” Lewis pulls you out of your thoughts, thankfully changing the subject.

“Just the usual, not much has changed.” You shrug, taking a sip of the drink in front of you.

“Descriptive,” Lewis teases you, “nothing new? How’d you meet your square?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “You really want to talk about my boyfriend?”

“I need to know what I’m up against.” Lewis shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re not up against anything because it’s not a competition.” You deadpan, annoyed with his confidence.

“Everything’s a competition babe, that’s life.” Lewis laughs, taking a sip of his drink,

You can’t help the way your stomach flips at the familiar pet name, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it fall off his lips, it came so naturally to him.

Somehow you find yourself engaged in a normal conversation with Lewis eventually, discussing his race season and other projects he’s been working on. You’ve always loved to hear him talk about the things he’s passionate about, easily getting lost in his words. You stay with him, enjoying the shockingly easy conversation, indulging in more drinks than you should. It’s not until you see him check his watch do you think about how much time has probably passed.

“So is your car here yet, or are you planning on holding me hostage?” You ask him, filling the momentary silence.

“Not used to many hostage situations that include free drinks,” Lewis laughs, “but we should probably head out front, car will be here soon.”

“Thank you for the drinks by the way.” You say quietly, sliding off your stool to follow him out of the venue.

He just smiles, no words leaving his mouth as he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you out with him. It doesn’t take long before his car is at the curb, his hand not having left your back as he urges you into the car. Despite the multiple seats available, he settles into the seat directly next to you, his thigh touching yours sending electricity through your whole body. You curse yourself for how simple it is for him to draw a reaction from you.

“So where’s the square got you staying?” Lewis asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up.” You mumble before giving him directions that he relays to his driver.

There’s a large part of you that’s surprised he seems to actually be taking you back to your hotel, expecting him to try so much more before actually granting you your freedom. You can’t help but be slightly annoyed with your boyfriend for putting you in this position, even if he doesn’t know your history with Lewis, the rumors surrounding him should be enough to keep your girlfriend from being alone with him. Even if your boyfriend trusts you, why does he trust Lewis so much?

The drive is mostly silent. Lewis has his arm up over the back of your seat and as much as you want to fight him on it, push him away, you can’t bring yourself to do so, you enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. His body heat is intoxicating in the worst way, you can’t help but relish in the familiar feeling, so used to being cocooned in his arms. You can tell that you’re getting close to your hotel by the familiar streets, Lewis still scrolling on his phone as if he could care less that you’re sat next to him for the first time in nearly a year. Maybe he’s given up, you think. Maybe he’s finally respecting your boundaries. All of that is thrown to the wind when the car begins to slow down. He scooches even closer to you, his head dropping to your neck.

“My offer always stands, I meant it when I said I miss you.” He whispers in your ear before placing a kiss to your throat.

A small whimper leaves you involuntarily, secretly missing the way that his lips feel on your skin. You can feel a slight smirk on your skin as he pulls away, not far. His face comes up, directly in front of yours, his nose just grazing your own. Everything inside of you is screaming at you to get out of the car and not turn back, but your body is drawn toward him, he can feel it too. One large hand finds your thigh, running up the outside of it, just under the hem of your dress. You relish in the feeling of his calloused fingers on your skin for the first time in far too long. His eyes are heavy as he stares at you, hooded and darkened with lust. He leans forward just the slightest bit, ghosting his lips over yours. When you don’t pull back or fight him, he takes it as a good sign. His grip on your thigh tightens as he leans forward and properly connects your lips. The second his mouth is on yours he lets out a deep groan, one that seems to have been locked inside him for a long time. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue finding yours mindlessly. His tongue swirls against yours as his other hand comes to find the back of your head, pressing you harder against him. Your hands have a mind of their own, coming up to find the sides of his strong neck, not even thinking, you’ve been in another world since the second his lips found yours. When he finally departs you find yourself chasing his lips, making him peck yours once again.

“Come back to mine, babygirl.” He whispers, out of breath.

You let out a small whimper, your brain clouded by all of the ways you could explore him tonight, let him explore you.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, his head dropping back to your neck, “We can have so much fun babe. Everything you’ve been missing this last year, I promise.”

“Lewis, I can’t,” You just about groan, frustrated but sticking to your guns, “we’ve already crossed too many lines. I can’t do that to him.”

You try to push Lewis away but it’s worthless, his light assault on your neck is welcomed despite your words.

“Yeah, maybe we crossed a line. Why not cross some more? Hmm?” His words are spoken through kisses trailing up your neck and across your jaw, slowly making his way back towards your lips.

“Lew,” You breathe out, pushing at his chest once again, finally he disconnects from you, just barely, “I shouldn’t. I can’t, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s really not fair is it.” Lewis shakes his head, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, a whole different meaning to his words.

“I need to go.” You whisper, moving to get out of the car.

“Hey,” Lewis stops you, a hand on your wrist, “you still have my number, let me know if you change your mind. I’m only a few blocks down.”

You offer him a small smile, not sure how to respond and not able to be in his presence any longer. You slip out of his grasp, closing the door on him as you do. You can feel the heat from where his fingers gripped you, a burning sensation on your skin. You try to shake the sensation from your body as you make your way up to your room. You can hear his car drive away in the background, having to stop yourself from turning around and going back to him. When you arrive back to your room, its empty, your boyfriend nowhere to be found, evidently still out at drinks. You sigh, flopping down onto the mattress. You want to scream. It’s so unbelievably unfair that someone can still have such a hold over you, despite having not seen him in a year. Lewis is addictive, and reintroducing an addictive substance to someone who has just barely become clean is always dangerous.

It’s a few hours before your boyfriend finally returns to the hotel. You’ve long since changed into comfier clothes and are lounging on the bed watching a random show, grateful to finally be out of your heels. When he finally arrives you can tell he’s beyond wasted, just like Lewis had predicted.

“Hey hun.” He slurs, swaying in the hallway as he tries and fails to steady himself.

“Hi,” You giggle, “have a good time with Vance?”

“Yeah,” He laughs back, “woulda had a better time if you had came along though.”

“You look like you had plenty of fun,” You raise a brow at him, “go change and come to bed.”

“I just don’t get why you didn’t want to come, honestly I would have closed that deal so much quicker” He says as he goes into the bathroom

“I told you I wanted to get back to the hotel, I was tired.” You sigh

“Not too tired to hang out with Lewis Hamilton.” You can hear the anger in his voice and it makes you want to laugh.

“Really? You’re the one who told me to stay and hang out with him, not only that but you trusted him to take me home. How is that my fault?” You’re already annoyed as the words leave your mouth, already frustrated beyond belief in so many ways.

“Jesus Y/N, if I knew getting drinks would put you in such a mood maybe I would have come home sooner.” Your boyfriend says from the bathroom.

You have no idea where his sudden attitude has come from, you refusing going to drinks should not have put him in such a mood.

“I’m not in a mood, I just don’t appreciate you implying that I turned you down just to hang out with Lewis.” You argue as he exits the bathroom, his shirt now off, just in his suit pants.

“I know you didn’t leave that gala for quite some fucking time.” He spits at you drunkenly.

“What are you even talking about?” You ask him, confused how he even knows, not that it should even be an issue.

“You were too tired to come get drinks with me to help me with an important investor but you can stay and have drinks with Lewis Hamilton for another hour?” He accuses you, not taking into account that it’s partially his fault.

“We were waiting for his car so we got a drink,” You defend, “and how do you even know how long we were there?”

“People know you're my girl Y/N. Apparently people find it a bit strange when they see my girlfriend drinking at the bar with one of the most notorious playboys in the game.” His voice is slowly getting louder, putting you even more on edge.

“Oh so you have people keeping tabs on me now?” You question him.

“I don’t need to ask, they just do it. It’s embarrassing Y/N. I don’t need people thinking that my girlfriend is out fucking athletes.” He throws at you, rolling your eyes.

“All that should matter is that you know!” You yell at him.

“Do I?” His voice is laced with venom, a sudden distrust that you’ve never seen from him before.

“Well you certainly fucking should.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“How do you know him?” He ignores your argument, taking a step closer to you.

“I told you.”

“Yeah you told me how you met him, sure. How do you actually know him, because you seemed to be pretty fucking close.” He fires at you.

Your anger has reached a peak, not wanting to deal with your boyfriends drunken anger, you let the walls down.

“You really want to know how familiar I am with him? Hmm?” You challenge him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, he fucked me for a year straight. Best I ever had.” You shrug, your voice venomous. You have let all of your cares slip away.

“Excuse me?” Your boyfriend is seething, your last comment sticking with him.

“You heard me.” You say, your voice eerily calm.

“You say that and then expect me to believe you didn’t fuck him tonight? How stupid do you think I am?” He sounds almost amused as he asks the question.

“I could have, oh god I could have, I was this close,” You hold up your fingers to emphasize your point, “but I didn’t. Ya know why? Because I’m in a relationship, I fucking you! I couldn’t do that to you. Yet here you are accusing me of going behind your back. You left me alone with him, you let him take me back to the hotel. Why? So you could prove a point about what you think of me?”

“If you were so close to fucking him, why don’t you go do exactly that?” Your boyfriend just about screams at you.

You’ve never had a fight of this magnitude, especially over something like this. Hearing his distrust and anger makes you rethink everything about him. Your mother always told you that drunk words are sober thoughts and you can’t help but feel that in this moment. In that moment you give up, why even try to convince him to trust you, if he thinks you’re going to cheat on him now why would he ever think differently.

“Fine.” You shrug, your voice calm.

“Seriously?” He’s taken aback, clearly not thinking you would act on it.

“You obviously don’t trust me so why not.” You say, not looking at him as you gather your things. You have no real plan about where you’re going to go, sure you are leaving things behind but not caring, just needing to get out of the room and away from his vile behavior.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re literally proving my point right now, you’ll fuck anyone who gives you attention. I thought I had managed to tame that shit in you.” He spits, watching you pack your things.

“Tame me?” You whip around at his words, “First of all, I’m not a fucking zoo animal. Second of all, if you’ve never trusted me why the fuck are you even here?”

“Jesus, I thought you could be better, you had so much fucking potential.” He sounds remorseful and it makes you want to scream. How dare he think you needed fixing.

“Fuck you, I’m done.” You say, your things finally zipped in your bag as you put on your shoes.

He’s still yelling things at you as you make your way out of the room, not caring to stick around to hear what other awful things he has to say to you. You don’t properly breathe until you’re in the elevator, finally sure he’s not following you. That’s when you realize you don’t have anywhere to go, a lump forming in your throat as you think of everything that was said. Mindlessly you take out your phone, hesitating for a moment as you look at Lewis’ number, blocked for so long. You unblock him as you step out of the elevator and into the lobby, walking out to the street as you call his number, praying he’s not asleep. Going to him is probably the last thing you should be realistically doing, but he’s the only person you want to see right now.

“Hey stranger, I knew you’d end up calling.” His voice is cocky through the phone, you can hear his smirk.

“Lew.” You croak out, your tears finally coming to the front.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his tone changing drastically, immediately aware that something isn’t right.

“You said you were staying nearby, can I come over?” You almost want to laugh at how desperate you sound.

“Of course, I’ll send you a car. Are you still at the hotel?” His voice is laced with concern and care and it makes your tears fall harder. It’s ridiculous that someone who had never been emotionally available could care for you more than your boyfriend.

“I’ll walk, just tell me where you are.” You shake your head as if he can see you.

“Y/N, it’s too late for you to be out walking alone, I’d be worried the whole time. Let me send you a car.” He argues.

“I need the fresh air honestly, just tell me where to go. Please.” Your voice breaks at the end of your plea, convincing him not to argue with you more, he can tell he won’t win.

Against his better judgment he finally tells you where he is, offering to stay on the phone with you while you walk. You’re tempted to take him up on it but you need the time to yourself. You’re still not sure why you feel such a desperate need to see him but it’s all you can think of at the moment.

The walk helps your head immensely, your agony switching to anger. Part of you wishes you had just gone back with Lewis when he offered, you would have proved your boyfriend right and still had a good night. If he doesn’t trust you, why be good for him?

When you arrive at Lewis’ hotel, he’s waiting in the door to his suite for you, his suit from earlier still on. He immediately takes note of your scowl and bag, his eyebrows raising. He doesn’t say a word as he steps aside to let you enter the room.

“That fucking asshole.” You say, dropping your bag as you finally turn to face a very concerned Lewis.

“What happened?” He asks you, cautiously approaching you.

“He doesn’t trust me! I could have come here and fucked you hours ago, but no, I stayed in his room and waited for his drunk ass to get back like a good little housewife. What do I get when he gets back? Accused of fucking you.” You let out in one big breath.

Lewis’ eyes widen, a slightly amused look on his face underneath the concern.

“So he accused you of cheating on him?” He questions, still trying to fully figure out what he’s dealing with.

“Oh not only that, he said he thought that he had tamed me, told me I embarrassed him.” You let out a bitter laugh.

“So he’s a square and a dumbass.” Lewis states with a cock of his head, frowning.

“Oh fuck you.” You spit at him.

“I’m just saying, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” He says softly, approaching you to put his hands on your arms gently, rubbing up and down softly in hopes of calming you somehow.

The gentle action makes you want to cry again, fall into him and never let him go. As if he can tell, he pulls you into his chest, holding you tight. You wrap your arms around his neck. You let yourself revel in the feeling of being in his arms, holding you so tight you almost can’t breathe, but you welcome it, you’ve missed it for so long.

“So why are you here baby, to piss him off?” Lewis asks quietly, loosening his grip on you slightly to get you to look at him.

“I don’t even know, I think I just wanted you.” You sigh, embarrassed by how needy you sound.

He smirks, pleased in the knowledge that you may want him in any way shape or form.

“Why the hell are you still dressed up?” You suddenly ask him, confused by how much time has passed since he left the event.

“Had an after party I had to go to, just got back a little while ago.” He shrugs, his arms still wrapped around you.

“So why the hell were you trying to get me to come back with you if you had things you had to do?” You question him.

“If there was any chance in hell you would come back with me I was blowing that party off in a heartbeat, don’t care if I pissed anyone off. Haven’t seen you in ages, couldn’t let the chance slip.” He explains, looking you dead in the eye.

The thought that he would have rather spent his night with you than going out and networking makes your heart clench, it’s something your own boyfriend never would have done, evidently. His admission makes you throw caution to the wind, missing the feeling of being wanted, you pull the back of his neck so you can connect your lips to his. He seems almost surprised for a moment, not expecting anything to happen due to the state you had arrived in. He only hesitates for a moment before responding with full force, his lips fully claiming yours like they’ll never touch another set.

He groans into the kiss, the sound going to your core immediately, its always been one of your favorite sounds. You take your hands from around his neck, pawing at the button of his jacket, desperate to feel the smooth skin and hard muscle he has hidden underneath. The second his jacket is open, running your hands up his torso, reveling in the strength, your lips never parting from his. He pulls back slightly, a cocky smirk spread across his swollen lips, his hands firmly on your backside.

“What do you want, baby?” He questions, his tone knowing.

You whimper in response, trying to catch his lips again as you work to push the jacket off his shoulders.

“Words Y/N, you know that.” He reprimands you even though he is reaching behind himself to pull his jacket off, throwing it over the nearby chair.

“Fuck, I want you, please.” You whine out, annoyed you even have to ask.

His hands come back to your ass, taking greedy handfuls as his lips drop to your neck, brushing over the skin as he speaks, “You want me to show you what you’ve been missing out on? Remind you how good I can make you feel?”

All you can do is nod as you brace yourself on his large biceps, a panted ‘yes’ falling from your lips. Within seconds his hands have fallen to your thighs, scooping you up to walk you towards the bed in the large suite. He drops you down on the bed, letting you bounce as he stares down at you with hungry eyes. The mood has shifted so drastically since you arrived, the whiplash is making your brain spin. Within moments he’s on you again, his lips hungry against yours as his large hand trails up under your sweatshirt. You wished you were wearing something cuter but the feeling of his hands on you threw every thought out the window. As his lips trailed down your neck you explored every inch of his muscular back under your palms, feeling the way the muscles flexed every time he adjusted his position. Wordlessly your sweatshirt was thrown up and over your head before his lips attached to your bare breast. The moan you let out was something you didn’t recognize from yourself anymore, a sound you hadn’t made since the last time you had him.

Over the course of your relationship with your boyfriend, sex had become more of a chore, something you knew you needed to do to keep the relationship working, it obviously didn't work. Your boyfriend tended to rush through things, chasing his own high with yours as more of an afterthought. Lewis however, he took his time with you, he always had, he would never be done until you were absolutely wrecked beneath him.

Lewis’s lips were trailing down your body, his tongue tracing every inch of skin it could reach. Hot, wet, sloppy kisses being left against every dip and curve of your figure. When he reached the waistline of your sweatpants, his eyes flicked up for a moment, locking with yours. There was a faint question in them and all you could do was nod, bucking your hips up towards him, urging him to take them off.

“So eager.” Lewis just about chuckles, pulling down your pants and thong in one move.

You can’t help but squirm when his eyes lock onto your heat, staring at you like he’s going to destroy you. His large hand splays across your bare waist, keeping you in place as his other holds one of your thighs out to the side.

“Patience babe, don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.” His voice is teasing but you can hear the tension behind his words, he’s just as worked up as you are, the evidence is visible in his dress pants.

He leans down, pressing soft kisses along your hip, making his way further down slowly, much too slow for your liking.

“Lewis, please.” You whimper, hoping he will speed up the process and ease the ache between your legs.

He smirks, locking his eyes with yours as he latches his lips around your clit with no warning. You shriek, the sound turning into a guttural moan as his tongue laps over your nerves. You can feel the stubble of his beard on the inside of your thigh, his eyes still have left your face. You can feel the cocky smirk that spreads across his face as he lowers his face, lapping at your drenched entrance.

“Fuck baby, you really needed this didnt you?” He taunts you, breathless.

All you can do is whine his name as his skilled mouth returns to your core.

“God I missed you, always taste so fucking good.” He murmurs against you.

His tongue makes his way inside of you as his thumb comes to rub at your clit, making your back arch. Finally having him inside of you feels so good, but you need so much more and he knows it.

He pulls his mouth away, his thumb still tracing patterns across your nerves.

“Need you to come for me babygirl, could feel you clenching around my tongue, I know you’re close.” He’s out of breath and when you finally look at him you can see your arousal glistening on his lips.

You writhe on the bed as he presses a finger against your entrance, teasing the slightest bit of pressure before inserting the thick digit deep inside of you. His tongue comes down to replace his thumb against your clit as he slips another finger inside of you, massaging the spongy spot inside of you just right that you scream. The sound rips out of your body coming from deep in your throat as your pleasure courses through you. You can feel yourself soaking Lewis as he laps up your release, humming contentedly, like youre the best meal he’s ever had. You barely have the ability to push him away, too sensitive and he knows it, that cocky smirk plastered across his face as he finally sits back. You barely even register that he’s moved back over you until you feel his fingers on your bottom lip, your own pleasure covering them.

“Open up babygirl, need you to taste just how amazing you are.” His voice is soft yet strained as you let his fingers slip past your lips, swirling your tongue around them. He lets out a soft groan, his eyes locked on your mouth as you put on a little show for him, still half delirious.

When he finally slips his fingers from your lips he trails them down your chin and across your chest, leaving a trail of moisture that makes you shiver.

“Think you can take more? Hmm?” His lips are near your ear, you can feel the hot air of his voice against your humid skin.

“Please, god please.” You beg him, desperate to feel him again after so long.

“Been dying to be inside of you since the second I saw you tonight.” He admits into the skin of your neck as he works on the button of his dress pants. You attempt to help but its useless, you’re a useless pile of mush at this point.

He moves himself to stand at the end of the bed, finally kicking off his pants before grasping himself in his large palm. Your lips part inadvertently at the sight in front of you. His bare chest is glistening with sweat, making his tattoos that much darker and showing off the prominent shape of his pecs, his tattooed bicep is flexing ever so slightly as he slowly strokes himself, his eyes wandering over your naked body. When you finally trail your eyes down, your breath hitches in your throat. You’ve been with him countless times, but nothing can ever prepare you for just how thick he is, just how long he is. He has a cock that most men would pay to have and he knows it. He notices your staring, one side of his mouth curving into a knowing smirk. You’re sitting up, crawling towards him mindlessly, desperately trying to get your hands on him. You don’t even have time to properly register it when all the sudden you're being picked up like a rag doll and maneuvered onto all fours in front of him. You’re not even sure how he did it, his strength and your delirium making everything happen so fast. Within moments you feel his body pressed up behind yours, his mouth coming down next to your cheek.

“Gonna make sure my girl knows that no one will ever make her come like I do, gonna have you screaming my name baby.” He whispers, his voice sounding like pure sex. Your stomach clenches when he calls you his girl.

You feel him lining himself up with your entrance and all you can do is whimper into the pillow below you. With one hand grasped around his cock and the other a bruising grip on your hip, he takes a second to tease you, giving you the slightest pressure at your aching hole before slipping out and thrusting forward to nudge your clit. He’s leaving you a whining mess before he’s even inside of you and he’s absolutely loving it. He stills momentarily, lined up with you again before thrusting into you all at once. The force makes all the air leave your lungs as you slump even further forward. You hear a loud groan leave his chest and you wish you could see him, see the ecstasy across his face. His large palm soothes down your spine before pushing down, making you arch your hips up toward him even more. He barely gives you a moment before he’s rocking his hips, your body still working to accommodate the size its gone so long without.

“Good girl, you can take it.” His voice is low, demanding yet endearing. He’s the one that taught you about your praise kink, always so vocal about how good you make him feel.

His pace slowly starts to build, his thrusts becoming harsher as he keeps pressure on your back, keeping you just how he wants you. You can feel yourself getting even wetter as you listen to the moans leaving his body, your own sounds being nothing but gasps and whines. He’s hitting the perfect spot, over and over, and you can feel your stomach start to tighten. Rarely have partners even been able to make you come with just penetration, but everything is different with Lewis, it always has been.

“Fuck, already?” Lewis asks, his voice sounding almost amazed from behind you, “Fuck babe, I can feel you clenching my cock already, you gonna come again? Gonna fucking soak me like a good girl?”

His pace picks up, determination behind each thrust as his grip on your hips becomes even tighter. His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge again, the sound of pure sex. He groans loudly as he feels you come around him, working you through it but collapsing over you. He lets your hips go and you're dropping down flat on the mattress as he continues to pound into you from above. You can hear the slick sounds of him fucking into you and it makes everything so much dirtier. You’re moaning his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever learned.

“That’s it baby, just like that.” He coaxes you through a groan.

He doesn’t let up, the new angle making your toes curl as his weight bares down on you. He has one hand on your hip once again while he leans on his forearm next to you. You feel him start to move himself up, hooking your legs over his hips, your back bending backwards for him. He slows his pace ever so slightly, adding more force behind every thrust, making you squeal and grab at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, Lewis, I can’t, I-“ You whimper, too sensitive and too fucked out to properly string a sentence together.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can, go ahead and give me one more.” He soothes you, slapping your ass in contradiction to his kind tone.

You blindly reach your hand out behind you, wanting something to ground yourself on. He grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze before pulling out of you entirely. The sudden loss of contact leaves you confused before he’s flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs and sliding home once more. This time he grabs both of your hands, lacing your fingers with his as he braces them next to your head. His pace is still slow but unforgiving. His pupils are blown out and hooded as his eyes bore down into your own that are now teary.

“I got you, m’right here, let go, I know you can.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s trying to hold his own release off, desperate to feel you come again.

His lips attach to yours, sloppy and wet as he sucks on your tongue. One of his hands lets go of yours as he trails down to your cores, gently flicking at your nerves to feel you clench before settling on a relentless speed that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Say my name baby, tell me who’s making you feel this good.” His tone is possessive and cocky as he pulls away to stare at you, obsessed with your face as you climax.

You scream his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling like a tidal wave that has washed away anything but him and the ecstasy youre floating in. You hear him let out a deep guttural groan as his hips falter, trying so hard to fuck you through your own climax but the feeling of you squeezing around him is too much. You feel like you're floating when you feel him twitch inside of you, coming for longer than he ever has with you. You revel in it as he collapses down onto you, a comfortable crushing feeling that makes you never want to leave the bed.

You’re not sure how long you laid there, letting him pepper your neck with sloppy kisses as you tried to stroke his sweaty back, your efforts not the most successful as you felt like jello. You could feel the comforting feeling of him softening inside of you, still so big. You still didn’t feel like you were inside your own body when he finally pulled out and cleaned you up. It wasn’t until he was turning off the light and climbing into bed next to you, still naked, that you really felt human again. As he pulled you into his chest you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, knowing there was no good way for this to end. You were silent, nuzzling into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible.

“For the record, I meant what I said, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” Lewis says, tightening his arm around your waist.

You don’t respond, just press a kiss to his chest, enjoying the scent of him.

“I should know, I fumbled you pretty fucking hard.” He continues, much to your surprise.

You lift your head to look at him, shock written across your face.

“I’ve missed you.” He says, staring into your eyes in the dark room.

“I’ve missed you too.” You admit, laying your head back down to rest on his chest.

“I’ve got some other events to go to this week, come with me.” His words sound less like a question and more of a statement.

“Excuse me?” You look at him again, once again surprised.

“Come with me and let me show you off how you should be. I fucked up once, not doing it again.” His words are confident, sure of himself in every way.

You’re not sure how to respond, elated by the fact that this is exactly what you’ve wanted for so long, and terrified by the same thing. Words don’t come to you, all you can do is stretch up to kiss him, your mouths frantic against each others. His arm tightens around your waist as he pulls you up to lay on top of him, your legs falling around his waist. You kiss him mindlessly, brain dead at the feeling of his lips.

“Like I said, my girls gotta be taken care of.” He says against your lips as he moves you to slip himself inside of you once more.

As you slide down onto him once more, feeling him fill your heart and your core, you know no one else will ever be good enough for either of you again.

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spiderism · 10 months

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Miguel’s conducting a census on the spider-verse when he lands himself on 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟕 – has no prior information since this is his initial visit, but on first glance recognizes that this is Nueva York; that usually means that the local superhero is Miguel O’Hara, or at least another variant of him. Only he finds out that here, it’s actually someone named Web-Shot, a souped-up version of his own late wife.

"Cariño." It was easier to say before – when everything was right, when his entire world hadn't collapsed in on itself. Now, the word feels strange. His brain reacts as if no time's passed at all; it takes effort for his mouth to form around each of the vowels and the consonants, though – like a rusted cog forced into service after being made stiff from years of disuse.

And while you may walk and talk like her, you’re not. He tells himself not to be fooled by the way your face lights up when you see him, by the way your laughter fills the space between the two of you, and by the way you still tell jokes at his expense.

But then you take the few steps necessary to close the distance to get to him, wrap your arms around his frame like he’s just come home after a long day of being out. It’s all too familiar – your body folding into his, how well the pieces fit together, the softness that he remembers so well; it’s every single inch of his wife that had been catalogued and filed away in the back of his mind for safekeeping – dust-ridden archives that he’d never thought he’d dig up again. You’re a memory in the flesh.

“Web-Shot, because—”

“You shoot webs. That’s cute,” he says in a dry tone.

“Alright, then. Let’s hear yours. You got something better?”

“Spider-man. It’s simple. Clean. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Wow, original. Was ‘Daddy Long Legs’ already taken?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. I see your sense of humor is consistent.”

“It’s why you fell for me, isn’t it?”

“Among other things,” he murmurs. “Pain in my ass—”

He asks where your Miguel is, needs to know if the two of you are together, but finds out that he died three months ago – fell from a clocktower during a bad fight he wasn’t supposed to be at, snapped his neck clean in half from the tension when you tried to catch him with your webbing and he ricocheted back up from the concrete like a damn bungee cord. The ring was in his pocket; he was supposed to propose that night before everything went to shit. So your time ended with him fast, early. Before you even really got to start your lives together.

And this other Miguel, the one who shows up in your universe alive (sure) and well (debatable), gives you some insight to his world. His wife was a romantic – an idealist, a dreamer. He’s always been pragmatic – a man of science, an engineer, doing everything within his realm of possibility to make her visions come true. It’s been a long time since he talked about his history and his family: how he proposed, where they had the wedding, his daughter – the way everything was good and perfect until it wasn’t.

After spending the night with you on the Empire State Building, he realizes how much you’re like his wife. It hits him hard, brings up too many emotions to the surface that he’d been tamping down all these years.

Nothing about any of this is fair. And it’s sad, heartbreaking. Especially—

“I didn’t get to grow old with you.”

“We could’ve had a lifetime together and it still wouldn’t have been enough. You get that, right?”

You convince him to stay. Try to, at least. He can be your Miguel, and it would all be so easy. He can take his retired wedding ring off the chain around his neck and slip it on where it belongs.

But it’s not possible. He tells you that much – what can happen, the repercussions that ripple out and affect the multiverse web. Because he’s already attempted that – wouldn’t have given up without trying to get you back.

A part of him wants you to say it one last time. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Instead, he gets:

“Every version of me loves every version of you. And even though I haven’t gotten to see it for myself, I know that there’s no universe where that isn’t true.”

Before he leaves, you ask if he thinks there’s any chance the two of you are allowed to be happy, allowed to live normal lives in all of the places he’s seen.

He tells you that he has: breakfast on the balcony, slow Sunday mornings, and weekend fútbol tourneys with your daughter. This story ends on a good note, but he doesn’t mention that it only exists inside his head.

#i was a lil too lazy to write the full version #honestly i was too lazy to properly format this and put angst warning so you can yell at me if you want #no i did not proofread #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o hara x reader

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kitty-tea · 2 months

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Why do you hate me?

Link to masterlist

Severus Snape x f!reader

WC: 1.5k

Summary: After starting your job as a professor at Hogwarts, you don’t understand why Professor Snape is the one person who doesn’t seem to like you.

Warnings: age gap, angst, SFW, crying, slightly OOC Snape

I still have some stuff I need to catch up on but maybe I can make a part two soon?💁🏻‍♀️

You were more than thrilled when you were accepted to fill in the position for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As Dumbledore introduced you to the school at the Welcoming Feast, your eyes went over to the Slytherin table where you recognized some of the students you went to school with who were younger than you. Your memory went back to your last year sitting at that table with them, and it was as if you’d blinked and they were already old enough to be taking their N.E.W.Ts the upcoming year. You gave a wave to them as they saw you which they returned with a thumbs up.

It seemed as if someone else didn’t give off the same welcoming energy that the rest of the staff and students were giving you. That person was none other than your former head of house, Severus Snape, who was sitting right next to you, rolling his eyes.

He had started teaching when you were in your first year, and it didn’t take long for you as an impressionable student to accept his strict ways of teaching. It wasn’t until your fourth year when you noticed you’d feel different around him than you did with any other teacher which made you realize you were developing a little crush on him that you waited for to go away throughout the rest of your time in school. It never did.

And now, there you were, sitting right next to him, with the same flame within you that caused you to blush.

After Dumbledore was finished making the rest of his announcements, you turned to Snape with a smile on your face.

“Hello Severus, you’ve been a teacher for a while now. Doesn’t it get exciting seeing all these new faces ready to have their minds filled with knowledge? I saw a good number of new additions to our wonderful house during the Sorting Ceremony!”

“It’s Professor Snape to you. And what makes you think I would enjoy having new students to teach?” Even though he turned to you with that same scowl on his face from all those years ago, there was something different about the way he looked at you that you couldn’t put your finger on.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quickly, a meek smile on your face. “I just thought that… well, you’re a teacher, so… or maybe you see it as having new victims to torture?” You didn’t know why you had rambled on like a fool as the butterflies in your stomach continued to flutter. Having a crush on someone you’re not supposed to can make you do strange things, sometimes without your control it seems.

“The students better hope their new teacher takes her job seriously enough and doesn't treat it as a joking matter.” Snape pointed his sharp features at you which were emphasized by his pale face making you shrink back into your seat.

The more time went on throughout the school year, the more apparent it became that your former teacher hated you no less if not more than he used to. Every wave you gave to him in the corridors was only returned with a scowl, every “hello” with a “go away.” You didn’t understand why he could be so rude to you when you’ve been nothing but kind to him. Hearing rumors that he favored the Slytherins over the other three houses, you thought that he would have treated you with less disdain, but even as a student and teacher, it seemed like he treated you as if he forgot that you shared the same house.

The more you thought about it, you noticed that he used to single you out from the other Slytherins in your school days. You remembered storming out of class in your seventh year one time after he yelled at you for being an “embarrassment” to your house. All you had done was defend a Gryffindor student from the taunts of your fellow housemates. He then had the audacity to complain that you were the one disrupting his class!

Since becoming a teacher, you had in a way used Snape’s mistreatment of you as a motivation to be kind to every student and work with them in a way that was suitable to their needs. You never wanted another student to feel the same way about you that you had towards Snape.

Within a month of school, you had gained a reputation as one of the nicest teachers at Hogwarts, a stark contrast to how everyone else viewed Snape. There were some nosey older students who had taken the liberty of spreading gossip around which included information of how you were once his pupil making the younger students wonder in disbelief of how you turned out nothing like him.

Then there was Snape himself, whom you’d sometimes catch looking in your direction, looking as if he was dazed out, a sight that amused you as someone who had only seen him wear one other expression on his face. It was only when the soft sound of your laughter would hit his ears that he’d snap out of whatever trance he was in, narrowing his black eyes at you silently accusing you of mocking him.

You didn’t understand what was so different about him, what changed since the last time he saw you before you started teaching.

This lead to you becoming more intrigued with him, striking up a conversation with him whenever you were together only to be shut down by his familiar dismissiveness.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend which meant that you were alone in the library with the exception of some studious first and second year students. You had taken advantage of the near emptiness of the library to gather however many books you could fit onto two hands before leaving for your quarters. Thinking about how excited you were to bundle up in your blankets with the books you considered reading to your students, you sprinted through the castle. Maybe you got a little too excited because the next thing you knew you were plumeling face first into a wall of black fabric before the books were knocked out of your hands.

“I should’ve known it was you. Running around like the invasive pest that you are.” You looked up to meet Snape’s eyes for daggers, his taller frame looming over you.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Your eyes widened as you frantically fidgeted with the skirt of your dress.

“Even after I thought I’d seen the last of you, you return like a persistent weed that has evolved into a thorn in my side.” He used his snarky attitude to ignore your apology.

Something inside of you deflated at the sound of his words, puncturing the previous excitement that was bubbling inside you making you momentarily forget about the books you had to pick up.

“I just thought we could be friends now that we’re coworkers.” You said in a near whisper.

“It might have escaped you when you were that pathetic student, but you can’t force everyone to be your friend.” He was clenching his fists at his sides.

“Why don’t you at least try being nice for once then?!” Hot tears were starting to simmer inside your eyelids, threatening to pour out. You hated how no matter how hard you tried standing up for yourself, you’d cry every time.

“Still weak as ever.” Snape said, eyeing your tears that were now running down your red cheeks.

“I am sick of you always treating me and looking at me like… I’m pathetic and calling me that!” You started to choke on your sobs. “Everyone has been kind to me! I don’t understand why you can’t be too when I’ve always tried being friendly with you, but you’ve been nothing but mean to me!”

“Being a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin doesn’t help.” Snape said loud and clear.

“Being a pathetic excuse for a teacher doesn’t help!” You shouted as loud as the tears would spill out fast. “You act like you know everything and that everyone else is beneath you! Maybe that’s why all the students hate you!”

“Thank you. For bringing my attention to something that is absolutely not new and wasting my time.” Snape said sarcastically, huffing under the layers of black.

“Why do you hate me?” You finally asked the question, a wall of tears clouding your vision.

The next thing you felt was calloused fingers brushing along the soft skin of your wet cheek before a pair of lips landed onto yours.

You were in too much of a shock to dwell on the fact that the man you’ve had a crush on for years was kissing you. You planted your hands against his hard chest as you returned the kiss. You let out a breathy whimper as his tongue traced your bottom lip. Both of you closed your eyes, savoring the moment until it was time to break away unless you wanted to take your last breath in his arms, which you would’ve been happy to.

“Because it infuriates me that I’ve wanted to do that to you every time I’ve looked at you since that day you returned to Hogwarts. You have no idea what you have done to me with those innocent eyes I can’t stop thinking about.” Snape’s voice broke you out of your daydreams before he stormed off without giving you a chance to speak.

You wanted to call out after him as you stood alone, trembling in your dried up tears.

#fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #hp fandom #hp fic #severus snape #professor snape #severus snape x reader #teacher crush #teacher reader #snape fanfiction #older man younger woman #short fanfic #au fanfiction #fanfiction #sfw fanfic #teacher x reader #slytherin

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mrsevans90 · 4 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 3

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Word Count: 2, 593 (This one is a bit shorter because the next chapter has ALL. THE. SMUT. Prepare yourself in advance loves!)

Warnings: Fluffy Sy, Sexual innuendos, Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 2

I lay back in bed with my arm behind my head and start thinking about Emma even though I know I shouldn’t because I won't be able to stop. I think of how beautiful she was standing on my doorstep, the way she cocked her hip at me with her arms crossed when I got on to her for trying to do dishes, the way her nose scrunches when she laughs. I smile to myself when I think about the weight of her tiny body across my lap and the way her nails scratched the stubble on the back of my head and neck when she was kissing me. Her perfume was not overbearing and overly potent like so many women I know. Just a soft, sensual scent that enveloped me when she was pressed against me. I think about how soft and swollen her lips felt before she left and the little gold chain necklace that rested against her cleavage and sigh. I lay there continuing to think about her as my eyes close and I drift off in a deep dreamless sleep.

I wake up the next morning stunned that I slept all night. Even though I was on a decent streak without nightmares lately, I usually never slept so soundlessly. I am once again still thinking about Emma and our upcoming date. Maybe this could be more than just physical. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great if we get to that point but I wonder if I’ll ever stop craving something more. A connection so deep that it spans a lifetime. I’ve always admired the pure love and admiration that my grandparents have for each other but lost hope a while ago that it may be something I could have. My military career made it impossible to settle down and although I thought I loved women before it just didn’t seem to be the same type of love that Nana and PawPaw have. It’s like they are each a half of the same person. The way they complete each other to make up this seemingly perfect couple who loves each other despite any flaws. It’s an all-encompassing type of adoration. I settled on the fact that their type of love is the exception. The one in a million lottery that most people never experience. Over the years I began to subconsciously accept the fact that I’ll never have that. I’ve become content being alone simply because it’s a way to protect myself from betrayal and heartbreak. I was fine with this lifestyle until I laid my eyes on Emma Miller. I’ve never felt so immediately smitten by a woman before. Talking to her felt comforting, her smile made my heart race, and I loved that she playfully bantered with me. Could it be that maybe my poor luck in the love department is over now because she’s the right person? My soulmate perhaps? Am I just fooling myself because I could see myself actually marrying a woman like her and worshipping her every day without being able to get enough of her? The thought of her with two or three little kids that look like a combination of us causes my thoughts to blur and my chest to expand with butterflies. Maybe this could work for once. It's too soon to tell. My nightmares aren’t happening as often and I feel like my PTSD isn’t as crippling as it once was. I don’t want her to have to deal with my problems though. She would be terrified if she saw me in an active PTSD episode. It’s been six months since I’ve had one but there's no guarantee I won't have another. Maybe I’m done with them or my brain is tricking me into this false pretense that I'm cured so that I get complacent. I’m getting way too far ahead of myself. I need to temper my hopes and expectations in order to protect myself from the inevitable let down. Hell, she may not even be as interested in me that way. Emma may not want anything to with something long term. I know she certainly must have her own qualms after being treated the way she has by men in the past. She’s had more than enough trauma to not have to witness mine.

After showering, getting ready for work, and eating some breakfast, I kiss Aika on the head and load up Mills for another day at work. I’m heading back to the same house to assist with the siding repair. There was more rot on that fireplace than we anticipated so it’s going to take a bit longer to repair. I call Nana and listen to her start carrying on about picking muscadines so she can make and can her some muscadine jelly. Pawpaw loves it so much he planted some muscadine trees on the back of the farm when I was about fourteen and she makes his jelly every year.

“D’ya hear that they got a new vet in town at Aika’s vet office?” I ask her.

“Oh, I sure did! Cute little blonde woman I think. Seems nice but I haven’t gotten a chance to speak to her yet. I know that Martha Foster invited her to church but she hasn’t come to a service. I can’t say I blame her, I don’t think I’d want to spend time with Martha and her nasty potato salad either.”

“Damn, Nana. Don’t hold back.”

“Well, I love the Lord, honey, but I only have so much patience for Martha and her know it all attitude.”

“I can’t disagree with you there, Nana. So yeah, the new vet, Emma, is very nice. I met her when I took the puppy I’m keeping over there after I found him. Did you see the picture I sent you of the little feller?”

“Your pawpaw showed me. He’s a cutie. What did you name him?”

Here we go. “Mills.”

“Mills? Like Milton? Where’d you think up a name like that?”

“Um, it’s short for Miller. Like Miller Lite Beer.” I think I just saved myself with that little white lie.

“You seriously didn’t name that poor thing after beer, Austin. What am I going to do with you? Bring him with you this weekend when you come to lunch on Sunday so I can spoil him. Your pawpaw won’t let me have any more animals. He said the barn cats, cows, chickens, and pigs keep us busy enough but I disagree. Do you know if that cute new veterinarian is single?”

“She is.” I quietly reply.

“Oh, you should ask her on a date. I keep telling you it’s time you start looking for a wife, Austin. If she turns you down, I can still get Susanne’s number for you. She may not have a job, but I’m sure she’ll find something soon.” Jesus Nana.

“No, I’m alright. I actually already asked Emma to dinner tonight. I’m only telling you because I know you have your ways of finding out sooner or later after gossiping with the ole bitties in town. Don’t you run off and start dreaming of a wedding and great grandkids now, ya hear? It’s just dinner.”

“Austin Syverson, you better not be calling me an ole’ bitty. I may be elderly but I can still smack you upside the head. You don't scare me."

"Yes ma'am." I reply with a chuckle because I know she means it. That ole' woman has smacked me upside the head so many times I can't count.

"I’m so glad you asked her to dinner. I want to meet her.”

“Like I said, I haven’t even taken her on a date yet.” Not exactly true but she doesn’t need to know that. “Let's not go and get ahead of ourselves and scare her off. Just do me a favor and wait a while before you ambush for information. Let me get to know her first please.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay out of it but please at least tell me how the date goes.”

“Deal. Now I gotta get on to work but I love ya. Tell PawPaw that I love him too.”

“We love you too, honey. Have a good day.”

The day drones on and finally I arrive at a small cottage style house on Beasley Avenue and pull up in the driveway. I’m sure my diesel truck rumbling announces my presence so I waste no time hopping out of the truck and making my way to the pale-blue door that has a summer wreath hung on it. There’s no doorbell so I knock loudly and within a few moments the door opens widely to reveal Emma in white shorts, and a yellow and white floral top that shows off just a sliver of her toned and tanned midriff.

“Hey Austin!” Emma says cheerfully while I’m still stunned over her appearance.

“Sugar, you look good enough to eat.” I say with a smirk and wink.

“Thank you, but you’re just saying that because you’re hungry.” She giggles as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck for a sweet hug. I put my hands on her hips and kiss her forehead.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean darlin’. Nice place.” I say as she pulls back from me.

“Thanks! It’s small and I need to do update some things since it’s an older house but I liked how simple and classic it looks. It also helped that it was in my budget, move in ready, and only ten minutes from the clinic.” She tells me.

“It fits you. It’s very bright and welcoming.” I say and she grins widely. “I don’t know what needs to be updated but I’d be happy to take a look.”

“I may have to make an appointment and take you up on that at some point. I need to install a doorbell. the hot water heater is not great and the kitchen sink is a little fickle but it’s not a big deal.”

“No need for an appointment darlin’. I can take a look whenever you’d like me too at no charge.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” She deflects.

“I’m offering so you don’t need to ask. But, I can’t be responsible for you starving so let’s eat and I can look at it later.” She locks the front door and I lead her to my truck.

“I missed lunch today. Janet accidentally double booked me and so I got behind. Had to work through lunch just to catch back up.” She says as I help her into the passenger’s seat.

“You don’t need to be doing that darlin’. I’m sure everyone would have understood.”

“It was okay. Janet felt bad about it and I didn’t want to waste people’s time. Just made for a crazy day! I’m ready for some lasagna!” She giggles and I smile at her from the driver’s seat.

We get to Gia’s and I say hello to the hostess, Sofia, who is the owner’s daughter. She’s always blatantly flirted with me but I’ve never returned the sentiment. She’s too young; barely twenty-two and is clearly looking to immediately get married and have kids like so many other women here. She’s a nice girl but I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea. I make a point to place my hand on Emma’s lower back and pull her chair for her to sit and she smiles gratefully at me. After we order, I see Giovanna the owner heading straight towards me. My mama and her were friends since I was a teenager and we have come to Gia’s throughout the years for meals. Giovanna and her husband, Matteo, opened this restaurant when I was about ten years old.

“Sy! Good to see you sweetie.” She says as she hugs me. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”

“Hey Giovanna. Good to see you too. This is Emma Miller. She’s our new veterinarian over at Hope Animal Clinic.” I answer and Emma smiles and produces her hand to shake as I introduce her.

“Ah! I’ve heard wonderful things about you! I have an appointment next month for our cat, Luigi, to get his yearly shots.”

“Oh, what a sweet name. I’ll be looking forward to meeting the little guy!” She tells her and I chuckle.

“He’s not a little guy. He’s the biggest domestic house cat I’ve ever seen!” I tell her.

“Really?” Emma asks.

“He’s a big boy, but what can you expect? He sleeps all day and his parents own a restaurant that sometimes has left over fish that would go to waste.” She says waving her hands dramatically and we laugh.

“Well then I look forward to meeting your big boy.” Emma jokes.

“Are you settling in okay? I’m so glad you are here!” Gia says and Emma smiles brightly.

“I’ve settled in nicely! Everyone has been so welcoming. I have to say, you have the best food in town. This is my first time coming in but I’ve ordered take out several times. Your delivery drivers are probably sick of me.” She jests.

“Oh, I’m so glad you enjoy it dear. Don’t you worry about Derek and Joe. They get free food and only have to drive orders around so they are living the good life. Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening but I just wanted to say hello. You come back in anytime sweetheart!” She calls and we thank her and wave goodbye.

“So, are you one of those people that everyone in town knows? I saw that cute little hostess just about drooling over you.”

“Nah, that’s Gia’s daughter. I do know almost everyone in town but that’s what happens being raised in a town like this. My grandparents are pretty well known by everyone so I am just by proxy I guess. I’ve essentially spent the majority of 17 years overseas in different parts of the world, but when I come back home it’s like I never left. Unfortunately, that means everyone also knows everyone else’s business. I hope you don’t mind but I’m sure it’ll get around that we were here tonight on a date.” She blushes.

“I don’t mind. As long as you’re okay with that.”

“Wouldn’t have brought ya if I wasn’t, Sugar. You deserve to be shown off and I’m proud to be the man who gets too.” I reach over to grab her hand and stroke my thumb over her knuckles before kissing them. She smiles from ear to ear.

After dinner, we climb into my truck and I offer to take her for ice cream and she just pats her little belly.

“Normally, I would never turn down ice cream but I think I ate my weight in pasta. I’m completely stuffed.”

I stare out at the parking lot as I fight the urge to make a “that’s what she said joke” or an innuendo about how I could stuff her later and with once glance I can tell she caught my train of thought.

“You’re fighting making a dirty joke about stuffing me, aren’t you?” She giggles and I wink at her.

“I didn’t know you could hear my dirty thoughts.”

“I can’t, it was just so obvious. Your cheeks got red, you scrunched your nose while smiling and you broke eye contact with me.” Emma grins.

I shake my head and laugh lowly until Emma scoots over to me and whispers seductively, “Let's go home and maybe I'll let you stuff me full.”

Part 4

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal@kingliam2019@syversonswife@identity2212@starfirewildheart@hannah9921 @wa-ni @kneelforloki @cutedoxie @summersong69 @enchantedbytomandhenry @foxyjwls007 @geralts-yenn

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction

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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

Text

At Sabaody (Perona x GN! Reader)

Requested.

Rating: SFW

Summary: Perona just was meant to drop off Zoro at Sabaody, but didn’t realize he had such a cute crewmate!!!

WC: 573

She hadn’t really heard of you, didn’t particularly pay attention when everything went down in Thriller Bark (since, duh, she was scared for her life!!!). She just knew the general Straw Hats and didn’t spend time thinking of them.

Sure, Zoro did mention your name once in a while, and his comments made you seem so… strange.

As the self-designated “handler” of Zoro, though, she dragged him off to Sabaody after two years of training at Kuraigana.

She yanked him around by his collar whenever he somehow managed to drift off the path they were going.

As they finally met up with the Straw Hats, she unceremoniously shoved him and sighed. “There! Take good care of this knucklehead, would you? And if he gives you a hard time, let me know.”

That was supposed to be it, supposed to be the final word until she heard a voice calling for them. She turned around and instantly gasped.

There you were, in your glory, innocently smiling and waving to the crew you had missed since two years ago.

To say Perona was shocked to see you was the understatement of the century. Her jaw was slack and her eyes were nearly bulging from their heads. She quickly yanked Zoro back to her and whispered, “is this (Y/n)?”

When he says yes, she immediately starts yelling at him. “THEY LOOK THIS CUTE AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME? YOU HID THEM FROM ME?!”

Everyone raises a brow at her little tantrum while Zoro shrugs. “I mean… it’s just (Y/n)”, he says, unleashing Perona’s rage.

“You fool! You’re an idiot! I would’ve worn my better clothes!! I would’ve fixed myself up more!!! You did this to me on purpose!!!”

After she finishes yelling at him, she turns around and smiles brightly, as if she didn’t just rip Zoro a new one. She giggles and twirls her parasol cutely.

“You’re (Y/n), right?”

“Yes, Perona. That’s my name.”

She turns red and gasps. “Y-you know my name?! Oh my god, you know my name already!”

She can’t handle it, covering her cheeks with a girly smile as she is floating and squealing.

“You know, why don’t you ditch these losers and come with me? Kuraigana has plenty of rooms, and I’m a verrrrry good cook.”

“I’d love to, Perona, but I have to be with my crew,” you apologize. She pouts a bit. “But I think we can write or come visit once in a while.”

Her heart races as her smile appears back on her face. “You will? You really will?”

Well, now you just gave her the golden ticket. She wants to write to you or call you on her Den-Den Mushi almost every day.

She talks about you dreamily to all the zombies and mandarills and to anyone who will listen. Mihawk practically knows your life story at this point.

Perona fantastically discusses throwing a wedding and having Moria and Mihawk walk her down the aisle as her fathers (Mihawk proceeds to think about proper wedding attire for himself).

She tries to go through the newspaper to see if there’s any interesting information about you or to see your latest bounty poster and hang it on her wall.

She’s a lovestruck girl, a bit morbid and twisted, but really, she’s got a big heart and is eager to see you again. She likes to daydream about what you two would do together.

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #one piece hcs #perona x reader #perona

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pedropascalsx · 1 year

Text

Restless Spirits. Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 2.4k.

Summary: Joel finds respite in you after being visited by the ghosts of his past.

Warnings: P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Oral (F) Receiving, Creampie, Fingering, Squirting, Some Angst and Mentions of Child Loss.

A/N: This is my first attempt at smut for Joel. I hope you like it.

Thank you to my loves @djarinispunkk @theewokingdead & @chaoticgeminate for reading this over and providing support.

And a big hug to my beloved @foli-vora for providing feedback, support and encouraging me to continue with it!

The grip on your hips is bruising, you want to wince from the pain but you know that he needs this. He needs you to be pliant, he needs you to be still, he needs to mindlessly fuck you until the only thing his body feels is a wave a euphoria that’ll be quickly followed by exhaustion. He needs to wear out his already tired body until it can’t do anything except succumb to whatever amount of sleep his brain will give him.

This isn’t about your pleasure, he’ll give that to you tomorrow, or maybe when he wakes during the night. But right now this is almost for survival, a quick respite from the hell that’s currently ravishing his bones and tormenting his mind.

“Take it,” he grunts as his hand fists your ponytail, his rhythm getting sloppy and sloppier as he nears high. “Good- good fucking girl.”

He pulls out and fists his cock furiously for a few moments before groaning in pleasure as thick’s ropes of his seed start to coat your thighs.

You can’t help but think about that look in his eyes from earlier. Before the ghosts of his past unknowingly haunted whatever hope he held for the future.

It’s a look you think you’ve seen once before, but you can’t quite place it. His eyes had something that years ago someone would have described as a glimmer of hope and maybe that’s what it was, but it just seems easier to disregard it as desperation. But right now you can’t.

She was giggling like a child, the shredded remains of a newspaper printed decades earlier crumbled up in her hands as she read an obscure comic strip of a large ginger lasagna loving cat.

Youth coats every inch of her face, she’s still tiny in stature, puberty is still very much a work in progress but still it’s easy to forget that she’s a child.

The way she talks, the unexplainable bravery she exhibits… and then in these passing moments she’ll remind me that she is just a child. One who giggles uncontrollably at stupid comics.

He studied her for a few moments, he watched the way her eyes lit up as she laughed, it was like for a second he truly believed she could be the way out of all of this. And then it fizzled out. The demons he’s created in his mind coming out of the woodwork to shame him for feeling anything but numbness or a crippling sadness that he attempts to disguise with anger and an unfriendliness.

After a few seconds he simply got up and left without saying another word, possibly to down a shot of whiskey or to quietly think about the daughter that lives on through his unwavering pain. He doesn’t speak about her ever; you only found out she existed through Tess. And Tess made it abundantly clear that any conversation that involves his daughter is strictly off limits.

Instead he wears the pain of losing her on his face, it lingers in his bones and bleeds out of him like a wound that’s begging to be

cauterized and causes him to seek solace in debauchery and drink. And you can’t blame him. You never would.

You’ve never experienced that kind of loss, you didn’t know your parents, you were the product of two fools that didn’t think before they acted and left in the hospital you were born in. Raised by the church for a while, before the epidemic hit and then you were carted off to a school for orphans. They attempted to protect you from the hell that you were living in, but you’d seen things, heard things that made your skin crawl. And the day you turned 18, you were left to fend for yourself.

Ten years on you still go to bed resenting the way they didn’t prepare any of you. Instead they made you sit in classrooms and learn about a country that had since crumbled and rotted away as the dead took over the cities and started to line every crack in each pavement.

You’re awakened from your thoughts by the sound of metal hitting the concrete. Her beloved knife slamming against the cold ground after a miscalculation of her party trick. “Be careful,” you tell her and she shoots you back a look that could kill you instantly.

“I’m hungry,” she eventually says after getting bored of her knife and losing interest in the comic, “Where’s Joel?”

“He’s in the other room,” you say as you silently order her to remain, “He’s tired. He needs a break and you have food in your backpack.”

She scoffs loudly in response this time, her signature eye roll accompanies it and you can’t help but choke out a laugh. “Eat. And get some rest. Lord knows how long we will be staying here.”

It’s cold. Colder than it has been in the past few weeks. A sign that winter is well under way and is likely about to get a whole lot worse. You’re holed up in an abandoned apartment. The building was surprisingly clear and secluded enough for him to deem fit to stay.

Of course he insisted that the large bookcase from the hallway was to be pushed in front of the door but seemed to almost relax a little when he realized there was no balcony or other way of entering or leaving the apartment than the front door.

Ellie had perked up a little once she saw the amount of reading material in the place, old newspapers, magazines and books. Enough to keep her entertained for a little while and a mattress that didn’t look too dirty in a room that she could have to herself. You were assigned the living room couch and Joel took the other room. He gave you a silent nod that told you to join him once she was definitely asleep.

Creeping into his room, you're surprised to find him awake. Silently watching you as you tiptoe over to the bed he’s sprawled out on and carefully climbing into.

“She asleep?” he asks as you tuck yourself in.

“Yeah. For at least an hour.”

He hums and your stomach flutters at the way his southern drawl seems to drip into every sound he makes.

“You tired, girl?” he asks as his eyes dart around the room seemingly looking at everything but you.

“No.” You respond and he wastes no time, he pulls the blanket from you and starts gesturing for you to take off your panties.

“Good, ‘cause last time you didn’t cum,” are the last words you hear from him before he’s impatiently yanking your underwear down the rest of your legs and spreading them in front of him.

Joel isn’t generally the most patient man but at this moment you’d never know. He’s got you exactly how he likes you, bare to him, pliant and ready to take whatever he’ll give you. And right now he’s savouring the view, slowly palming at the obvious bulge in his threadbare boxer shorts whilst bringing his tongue out to wet his lips.

“The prettiest goddamn pussy I ever saw,” he mumbles before running a finger through your slit and tutting at the obscene amount of arousal that coats it, “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper as his fingers work magic on your clit, “It’s all for you.”

“You gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” he asks before ripping his fingers away.

“Yes,” you immediately moan out, the loss of his fingers making you groan beneath him.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His face immediately dives into your pussy, his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds and you whimper his name as his groans vibrate against your core; as he laps up the arousal that had started to spread down your thighs. The taste of you is heaven. Tangy yet sweet and the noises that filter through your lips as his tongue flicks against your bundle of nerves makes his cock throb even harder with need.

“Please,” you whisper as he teases a finger around your vagina, circling the entrance a few times before chuckling, “Please, Sir.”

And without a beat he thrusts two of his thick digits into your heat, curling them up into that spot that only he is able to find before thrusting them in and out of you.

He groans in delight as your fingers entangle in his locks, pulling on his curls as he sucks on your clit. You quietly chant his name as his lips let go of your clit, and his tongue begins its glorious assault on your bundle of nerves again. A moan of his name falls from your mouth before your thighs are squeezing tighter around his head and your pussy is clamping down around his fingers. It’s glorious, white explodes behind your eyes as your body convulses from the pleasure he rips from you.

He doesn’t stop, his tongue continues to lap against your clit, his fingers continue to work their magic inside of you and it becomes clear that this isn’t coming to be the only one he’s pulling from you with his mouth.

His fingers curl up against that spot inside of you one more time and you see stars, your body trembles and an intense pressure builds and immediately snaps as a trickle of liquid gushes from you and coats his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you splutter as you realize what you did, “I’ve never done… I’m sorry.”

You fingers unclench in his hair as you gently move his face away, finally getting a glimpse at the way your arousal is glistening on his face and beard.

“You apologize again and I’ll give you something to apologize for, pretty girl,” he warns before bringing the fingers that were buried in your cunt to his mouth and sucking them clean, “You want to sleep? Or do you want me to fuck this pretty little pussy?”

“You already know,” you mumble as you writhe beneath him, studying his face as he licks his lips, his eyes still focusing on your glistening cunt.

“Yeah, but I ain’t doing shit until I hear you say it, pretty girl.” He says as his eyes slowly sweep up your body and burrow into yours.

“I want you to fuck me, sir,” you say as he pushes your t-shirt above your tits, and bends down to take a nipple in his mouth. His teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his lips envelope it and he sucks hard. You moan quietly as he snakes his hand between you both and starts rubbing your overstimulated clit. He chuckles as you hiss as he works your clit. “I need you to fuck me, Joel.”

He lets go of your nipple with a loud pop before shaking his head. “Not good enough, girl,” he taunts before moving across to the other nipple.

“Please, Joel,” you beg as his nimble fingers work your clit a little harder and faster, “Need you inside of me. Need you to take whatever you need from… Please, please, sir, -ooh- please fuck me.”

His tongue teases your nipple as he pulls a third orgasm from you, “Let’s make this pretty pussy come around my cock, pretty girl.”

He finally pushes his boxers down and lets his cock break free, it bobs up and down a few times before he takes it in hand and strokes himself roughly a few times. You wet your lips at the sight, the tip of him almost purple with a bead of pre-cum that’s begging to be licked clear.

He reaches over and grabs his pillow with his free hand and you lift your hips for him ready to place it beneath you.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet for me now,” he orders as he lines himself up to your entrance and slowly pushes himself in. Your breath hitches at the stretch of him, and he takes it slow. No matter how many takes he fucks you, the way he fills your tight heat always takes a few moments for you to get used to.

“Like a fucking glove,” he murmurs as he waits for the okay to move, “Always feels so perfect around me.”

“Fuck me,” you moan as clamp down around him, “I need you to move.”

Without missing a beat, he pulls out and immediately pushes back in, his hips finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into you. His thrusts are perfectly precise; his cock dragging against that spot inside of you with every punch of his hips. “Good girl,” he grunts, “Always taking my cock so fucking good.”

You keen at his praise, your walls fluttering around his cock as he builds you up and towards the edge of paradise once more and then you see it.

It’s fleeting, unbearably quick and almost undetectable but you catch it. That look in his eyes again. The one that almost resembles hope, this time aimed at you and this time replaced by a look of exhilaration instead of misery as you clamp down around him. He continues thrusting in and out as you deliriously chant his name. You feel the warmth of his pleasure begin to coat your walls as you rip free his pleasure. A groan of delight floods the air with every one of his thrusts until you’ve milked him dry.

His mouth possessively envelopes yours and takes you by surprise as his tongue licks its way into your mouth. You keen at the feeling of his fingers gripping your jaw as he swallows the moans you breathe into his mouth. His teeth capture your bottom lip and he gently nibbles before letting it go and resting his forehead on yours.

You see it one more time, just as briefly as before, his lips slightly curling upwards before the ghosts of his past chase it away.

Hope? Excitement? Happiness?

He retrieves his pillow from your underneath your hips and snuggles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your neck.

“So, no one has ever made you squirt before, pretty girl?” He mumbles into your skin and you can feel the grin that’s clearly spreading across his face.

“Go to sleep, Miller,” you murmur back as you close your eyes. Enjoying the warmth of his skin settling onto yours.

Maybe you won’t ever truly know what it is, but what you do know is that you’ll give him whatever he needs to see it pass through his eyes again.

#pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #hbo the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #my fanfic #my fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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red-pill-blue-pill · 8 months

Text

As friends.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Miller

Summary: Joel is your friend, he just happens to be really handsome

Warnings: mild spice towards the end ??? just in case, fluff, friends to lovers (just so y'all know I'm a sucker for that shit)

a/n: I wanted to write a little blurb but it got outta hand. This is is my first time writing for the Joel Miller and i'm nervous (I love this character so much) so please be kind 💖

His living room was dimly lit by one of the lamps next to the couch. Something played in the background, blues you think. He had found a record player a couple of weeks ago while he was patrolling with Tommy. He had even come across some records in perfect condition, tucked inside a tattered wardrobe. He was such a lucky fucker.

When he came back, he showed them off to you while saying something along the lines of “‘f you wanna listen to them you gotta come to mine, sweetheart” flashing you one of his now familiar cocky smiles, as if he needed to convince you to spend time with him.

Your stomach still churns at the nickname and you chastise yourself every time, for letting your mind even dare to go down that path when it’s Joel the one you’re talking about, for even thinking about him that way. Joel, your fucking friend. It had to be the lack of romantic action in your life. It had been so long since you last were with someone that your brain had to be confused. No one in Jackson had caught your eye for the last couple of years, nor tried to make any advances to you, and who would have dared when you were next to Joel —mean scary Joel— every single day?

Still, you didn’t care, you spent most of your free time either with him or at his house, playing games with Ellie while he was on patrol or sipping on wine and talking about your day when he fixed you a nice dinner. Like right now, back at his living room, soft blues playing in the background and the soft orange light from his lamp rendering the room even cozier.

You were sitting on his sofa, glass of wine in hand. Blues had never been your type of music, at least not until Joel showed you one of the records he found on patrol, an Eric Clapton one, a smile from ear to ear and an excited “Look what I’ve found, I reckon you gon’ love it.”

But now, as you look at him sprawled on the couch, his head —his big ass, heavy head— resting on your legs with his eyes closed and humming softly to the song, you believe it may be your favorite.

You sipped on your wine and carded your fingers softly through his hair, relishing in the feeling of his hair through your fingers. You looked down at him, his face was completely relaxed, the familiar pull of his frown nowhere to be seen. He looked so peaceful like this, his long lashes fanned over his cheeks and the light casted soft shadows over his face. He was so handsome.

“You are so handsome” your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up. His eyes opened, orbs completely dark thanks to the lightning, and he quirked a brow, clearly amused at your comment. You tried to recover quickly “And I’m just saying this the way a friend calls another friend cute, don’t get too excited.” You chuckled.

Lies, lies, lies.

He scoffed, “Yeah, right.” he closed his eyes again, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your deft fingers through his hair. “Who you tryna fool, sweetheart? ‘m as old as time.”

You stretched your arm to place the wine glass on the coffee table, careful to not disturb Joel with the motion. This time, your now free hand went to trace the lines on his forehead so softly, a barely there touch. A shiver ran down his spine. It had been a long time since someone touched him with such care, as if he was some precious relic, only to be treated with care.

“Hate that you can’t see what I see, Joel” your voice was soft, charged with love, but still stern. You hated when he was self deprecating, which unfortunately was very often.

“And what is it you see?” he swallowed the lump in his throat. Why were his hands sweating all of a sudden?

Your fingers drifted to the lines around his eyes, tracing them with your fingertips. “For starters you’re rugged and strong and that’s just plain attractive. Besides, you think age kills beauty, but it’s quite the opposite.” His eyes opened once again and gazed up at you, something you couldn’t quite make out swirling in them. You continued, trying to ignore the heat of his stare “The lines in your face… they mean you’ve lived, you’re alive.” you are here with me

“What do you mean?” his voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse because of the sudden dryness that had taken over his mouth.

“This one right here” you smoothed out his semi-permanent frown with your thumb “tells me you’ve got very few friends.”

“m‘kay, that’s rude.” he feigned hurt for a few seconds, then he saw your bright smile. That goddamned smile, the one he never got tired of seeing. And then he smiled too. A small and barely there grin.

“Then the ones around your eyes”, your fingers skimmed over his crows feet, “they tell me that you’ve laughed and smiled a lot, that despite this nightmare we’ve found ourselves in, you were happy once.”

Silent fell over the room, Eric Clapton sang in the background as Joel and you played at your personal staring contest, one charged with unspoken feelings. His eyes were wide in surprise, searching your face, looking for something you sure fucking hoped he found in the way your soft eyes looked back at him. Your fingers still threaded through his locks, not once having stopped since he laid his head on your legs. Everything felt intimate, maybe way too intimate for just a couple of good friends having some wine after dinner.

A nervousness settled in your bones, the kind of feeling you get when you know something’s about to happen but you don’t know what. Your heartbeat picked up, it thumped wildly against your chest, your eardrums, all along your veins. Then you cleared your throat, unable to stand the silence any longer. “Anyway, as I said, you are handsome.” you let out an awkward breathy laugh. “I‘m telling you as a friend” you quickly added. Again. For good measurement, right?

He sat back up on the sofa, his body slightly twisted to face you. In the daze of the moment you had completely forgotten how broad he actually was, his knee pressing against your thigh. “As a friend…” he echoed back at you, a teasing smile spreading over his features. God, he was going to be the death of you.

You reached back for your wine glass and nodded absentmindedly before taking a long gulp, not daring to look him in the eyes just yet. Suddenly, his hand cupped your face softly, fingers pressing lightly into your cheeks, encouraging you to look at him. His eyes were filled with tenderness and the kind of hope you have when love is still a possibility. His lips were mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Would’ya mind if I kissed you, sweetheart?” his voice was low and syrupy and it ignited a different kind of desire in you, something you had never felt before, raw, primal. You inhaled sharply and before you were even able to answer he added “As friends, that is.” he chuckled, clearly proud of himself for teasing you, and you smiled fondly.

“Ain’t that what really good friends do?” you laughed breathily.

“Oh, I reckon they do a whole lot more than that.”

His lips pressed softly against yours, a softness you knew Joel was capable of but you had never experienced it yourself. Now, after getting a taste you didn't want to live without it. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, tangling with the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you against his lips, deepening the kiss. Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, and thank god because suddenly Joel was grabbing your thighs and pulling you to straddle his lap.

He took advantage of the gasp of surprise that left your lips and licked greedily into your mouth. His hands roamed your back, going down occasionally to squeeze your ass over your jeans, relishing in the whimpers he pulled from you. Your hips started moving on their own accord, rutting against Joel’s growing bulge, making a deep groan rumble on his chest.

You tugged on his hair to break the kiss and stared dreamily at him. His pupils were blown out, his half lidded eyes hazy with lust, his lips swollen and red from kissing and a light shade of red tinted his cheeks. He was positively fucked out.

“You want this?” he asked while playing with the hem of your t-shirt, ducking his head once again to lick and kiss at your neck.

You could only muster a distracted “Hmh” as you kept rutting your hips against his. “As friends?” you asked between whimpers.

He pulled away to look at you, a hint amusement in his eyes as he took in the cocky grin you were sporting despite the lust filled gaze directed at him. His hands slipped past the waistband of your jeans, grabbing your panties from behind and pulling till the fabric rubbed against your clit. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

“As friends” he answered before claiming your mouth once again.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale challenge #four loves fairy tale challenge 2024 #the farmer's clever daughter #theme: eros #story: complete #this one was *so much fun*#i was grinning throughout the brainstorming process #faith and alistair just *loved* telling me their story #and especially in the first scenes i kept stopping just because i was having so much fun with the lines #maybe it's horribly boring to read but as a writing exercise it was fantastic #i love these two so much #i haven't had this much fun since writing last year's epistolary story

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stobinesque · 11 months

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talking could, if we'd just dare (you know that i'll forgive you), pt. 2

@steddie-week day 7: Free Space / "Freedom" by Wham! title from both "You Lookin' At Me, Lookin' at You" by Ozzy Osbourne and "Freedom" by Wham! part 1 (this is a follow up to day 6's "misunderstandings" prompt!)

There was a pressure behind Steve’s eyes that hadn’t been there since Halloween of 1984 and Nancy Wheeler drunkenly calling him and their love bullshit. What was it about him that meant he kept falling for people that thought his love affection and care were meaningless? He’d really thought that Eddie was different—that he could see the bones and marrow of him, and not the cardboard cutout he’d spent the first seventeen years of his life playing. Maybe Robin was the only person who would ever know him that well. (And that could be enough, couldn’t it? To be known so completely, even if only by one person.)

Steve rubbed at his eyes, trying to push away the tears that were threatening to start back up. He didn’t know who he was hiding from, but if he started crying again he thought he may never stop.

His “I’m heartbroken but pretending it’s okay—listen to how upbeat this song is!” mixtape that Dustin had made for him a couple years ago was playing on a loop in the background—he was taking advantage of the empty house to blare it across the stereo system.

Listening to George Michael sing I can't escape until you love me wasn’t doing anything to improve his mood, but that wasn’t really the point. It was nice to lie there and feel sorry for himself, just for a bit. He’d have to pick himself up and patch up the scrapes and bruises tomorrow. He’d have to paint on a smile for the customers at Family Video (the fact that he and Robin had managed to keep their jobs was already enough of a miracle without scaring people away with his bloodshot eyes), and put on an act of detached nonchalance for kids. If they got wind that anything was amiss, they’d all go digging, and as angry as he was with Eddie right now (and underneath all the self-loathing and heartbreak, he was pissed), he didn’t deserve to be outed like that—or at all.

The ring of the doorbell pierced through You take my hand and tell me I'm a fool, and Steve contemplated just lying there and letting whoever it was stand there awkwardly, knowing they were being deliberately ignored.

It’s not like it was anyone important—it couldn’t be one of the kids, because any of them would have opened with a flurry of repeated bell-ringings. It couldn’t be Robin, both because she had a key, and because she wouldn’t make him have to stand up and greet her at the door right now. He supposed it could be Nancy, or Jonathan, for some reason—except if there was an emergency they would at least try to call first, and Steve couldn’t think of any good reason that they’d show up on his doorstep unannounced that he was inclined to deal with right now. The only people he thought it could possibly be who he wasn’t better off leaving high and dry were Joyce or Mrs. Henderson—and that was actually enough to get Steve standing, because if Claudia was standing on his doorstep with food and an open smile and he ignored her when he was obviously home, it’d break her heart.

There was already enough of that going around.

Still, he made a detour to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, and at least attempt to mitigate some of the “I’ve been mired in self-pity for the past 48 hours” that was clearly visible in his face, his hair, and his clothes.

The doorbell rang for a second time, punctuating the lilt of Part time love just brings me down, and Steve huffed a frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He was going to the door just in case it was Claudia, not because he really thought it was her, and he was predisposed to being annoyed at every possible alternative to Claudia Henderson (or Joyce Byers) who could possibly be on the other side of the door.

None more so than the person it actually ended up being when he dragged open the double doors devoid of any of his typical flair. “What are you doing here, Munson?” he asked flatly.

Eddie stood framed in the entryway, curls pulled back into a neat bun, earnest expression on his face, and wearing what looked to be a threadbare black button-down under his usual leather jacket. He had one arm folded behind his back, the other half extended toward the doorbell—which he promptly dropped down to his side when he registered Steve standing before him. He looked unfairly good, and Steve wanted to die about it. (Or commit a murder—he wasn’t feeling overly picky right at that moment.)

“Did you not hear me?” Steve bit out. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie’s face fell, and his cheeks flushed a bright red. “I—”

Steve cut him off with a twisted sneer. “Did you come to really rub it in? It wasn’t enough to shoot me down the first time, you wanted to come and twist the knife again—just real up close and personal this time? Did you wanna revel in how far the 'king' has fallen?” In the background, you’re hurting me baby, hurting me baby ricocheted down the halls and rang in Steve’s ears.

“No, I came here to apologize, Steve, I—” Eddie cut himself off with a tilt of his head, and wrinkled his nose as the next line rang out clear, But you know that I’ll forgive you! “—are you listening to Wham!?”

Steve stared at him, incredulous. “Are you making fun of my music taste right now? Is that really what’s happening?”

Eddie shook his head frantically. “No, that’s not what I—! Fuck, I’m doing this all wrong.”

Steve scoffed. “What else is new?” he asked, the bitchy curl to his lip forming unbidden.

Eddie flinched, and Steve almost felt bad about it, but it was buried too deep under layers of hurt and bitterness. “I’m sorry,” Eddie said, looking contrite. “That was…a dumb thing to say. Which I am apparently full of this week.”

“‘Apparently’?”

Eddie swallowed. “I am completely, one hundred percent, full of bullshit.” Steve couldn't quite hold back a flinch at the word choice, but he didn't think Eddie caught it. “And—” Eddie unfolded the arm he’d been holding behind his back to produce a bouquet of flowers with a small flourish. “—I’m really sorry.”

Steve stared down at the flowers for several long moments, blinking slowly as he tried to parse out what he was seeing in front of him. Because it clearly wasn’t some premade drug store arrangement. The arrangement was a bright mix of purple, green, and white—a few large hyacinths dominated the bundle, mixed together with green carnations; sprigs of ragweed and fairy lilies filled in the empty spaces. A lot more thought and effort had gone into this than Steve’s own hasty purchase of a dozen red roses for Nancy two years ago. And while there was a florist in Hawkins, the chances that Eddie could walk in there without immediately causing a scene were pretty slim—especially if he’d been even a little too honest about the reason for the arrangement. Steve’s eyes drifted back up to meet Eddie’s. “Where did you get those?”

“There’s a, uh…there’s a gay florist? Up in Indy. That's how I was able to get a bouquet with green carnations so last minute.”

Steve nodded along as though that made perfect sense, even though he had no idea why green carnations would be of any particular significance to gay people. His gaze dropped back down to the bouquet, and he plucked it from Eddie’s hands, turning on his heel to make for the kitchen without saying a word. If Eddie was really so eager to apologize, Steve figured he could keep him on his toes. A moment later, Steve could just make out the sound of Eddie’s tentative footfalls, followed by the sound of the front door snicking shut.

Steve bent down to open one of the cupboards next to the underside of the sink, digging around until he found an old glass vase his mom never used anymore. He deposited it on the counter, before turning to pull open the miscellaneous tools drawer (his mom always hated it when someone tried to call it the ‘junk drawer’) to grab a pair of scissors.

“So. You’re sorry.” Steve kept himself faced away from Eddie as he filled the vase with water, unwrapped the bouquet, and trimmed the stems. There was a hurricane brewing in him, and having something to do with his hands kept him still at the center of it. If he had to look at Eddie’s face right now it’d all come flying apart. “What are you sorry for, exactly.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Steve carefully set down the scissors, and pressed his hands flat to the countertop. He didn’t let his head fall. He didn’t let the small, sad gasp that was stuck in his throat escape. He could keep the mask on. He could keep all of his insides from spilling out around him. “What do you mean?” Apparently he couldn’t keep the rasp out of his voice.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Eddie repeated. His voice was closer now.

“What are you talking about?”

“When I said I wasn’t interested in you. That was a lie, and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“And–and the other part?” Because what did it matter if he had some hollow, surface-level interest in him if it meant—

“What other part?”

“Munson—” Steve was gritting his teeth. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have let him in, he shouldn’t have—

“Oh, I—the ‘it didn’t mean anything’ part?” Eddie let out a blustery sigh, and Steve fought against the impulse to spin around and see what kind of gesture or expression might have accompanied that. “That’s…complicated. I–I think it did always mean something, but I wasn’t exactly lying when I said it was it was all ‘in good fun.’ That’s what it was supposed to be, at first, but then…I didn’t expect to like you.”

Steve laughed. “Thanks, Munson.”

“Please, Stevie—”

“Don’t call me that!” He snapped. And that was too much, he was giving to much away—

“Okay, I won’t.” Steve could almost hear the way he raised his hands and backed away. “But…please. Stop calling me that, too, okay? I thought we’d moved past that.”

“Yeah, well, I thought we had too,” Steve spit back through gritted teeth.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He wanted to say it. But if he did, he’d melt away. He’d succumb to the hook and line tugging at his gut that told him to try, to trust, to open up. But there was only one person who was allowed the keys to the castle anymore. He should have learned long ago to stop making copies.

“I know, Steve, and…I really am sorry. I–I didn’t mean to—”

“Then why did you?” His patience—such that it was—was rapidly dwindling.

“I— What?”

“If you didn’t mean what you said, if you didn’t mean to hurt me, if you didn’t mean to like me—then why? Why did you flirt with me? Why did you try to get to know me? Why did you bother?” Steve wanted to throw something. He didn't want to break something, exactly, but he also didn't want th echoing chasm of silence opening up between them.

Steve’s shoulders were shaking with the effort of holding himself upright, and Eddie still wasn't saying anything.

“Would you look at me?”

“I don’t know if I can, Eddie.” He coughed up the name like he was choking on it.

“I don’t think I can keep having this conversation to the back of your head.”

Steve closed his eyes; pinched the bridge of his nose to help fight back a fresh wave of tears. “Fine,” he bit out. “Have a seat.” He gestured loosely behind him before heading to the fridge, still keeping his back to Eddie as the sound of a stool scraping across tile echoed in the space. “Want a beer?” he asked. He could have this conversation sober, or with eye contact—but it could only be one or the other.

“Sure,” Eddie whispered back.

Steve nodded into the cold air of the fridge, and came back up with two bottles, which he promptly uncapped against the bottle opener affixed to the wall. He sat one down in front of Eddie, before seating himself in a stool on the opposite side of the island. It was all about keeping distance. If Eddie was going to come picking at his walls, he would just have to keep throwing up physical barriers to slow him down.

Steve took a pull from his beer. “So?”

Eddie took a breath, like he was steeling himself for battle. “I thought I was going to die.” Eddie laughed, and while it certainly wasn't hollow, it was entirely empty of humor. There was irony, maybe. Or hysteria. “At best I thought I'd end up in prison for the rest of my life.”

Steve frowned. “What does that have to do with—?”

“It has to do with everything, Steve!” It burst out of him like a dam cracking—and after the first crack, so came the flood. “No matter what was gonna happen on the other side of all that shit, I thought—one way or another—that my life was already over, man!

“So, yeah, I flirted with the pretty jock who made my heart beat a little too fast and my pants a little too tight—who looked fucking divine with blood dripping out of his mouth—and I didn’t think too much beyond the cute little smiles and flustered looks you sent back, because it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Because it didn’t mean anything.

“Not because you don’t mean anything—not because you’re worthless or unlovable or whatever other crap is circling the drain in your head—but because I thought you were straight! I thought I’d have a harmless bit of fun in the dying light of the end of the world. I thought I’d get a laugh and a smile out of it—I thought I could carry that sweetness with me into the afterlife, or–or have a warm memory to hang onto after I got locked away. Because there was only ever one of two ways that was gonna end, right?”

There were tears tracking down Eddie’s face, but he wasn’t sobbing—there was only a slight hitch in his breath to give him away—and he barely seemed to notice them; he just kept going. “And then we made it. We made it out, and then I had to figure out how to fucking live—how to piece back together all the shattered remains of what Vecna took from me. And you were in the hospital, and you were barely conscious most of the time, and when you were you could barely even look at me. And I thought…”

“You thought I’d figured you out,” Steve whispered, clarity taking shape.

“Yeah, man. I thought you’d figured me out.” Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not right away, though. At first I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that you’d realized you’d been flirting back, and that’s what made you uncomfortable?” Eddie reached as though to grab at a strand of his hair, only for his hand to drop back to the countertop when he remembered it was pulled into a bun. He took a swig of his beer, instead. “But you just kept getting weirder and weirder, and then it just…it hit me. That maybe you’d realized that I was gay, and hitting on you, and that maybe you thought that…I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t a threat. And—at that point, I don’t think I’d even fully realized that I do like you like that—I just knew that we were starting to become friends, and whatever else was true I didn’t want to lose that. And if keeping your friendship meant denying whatever else I was feeling, that’s what I was going to do.”

Steve blinked at him slowly. “You’re an idiot.”

Eddie laughed, eyes crinkling up in the corners to indicate there was some actual humor behind it this time. “So I’ve been very reliably informed. You know that every single woman in your life is fucking terrifying, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head and couldn’t help the wry smile that broke across his face. “Believe me, I do.” Steve smirked at Eddie, allowing himself the flirtatious edge of glancing up at him from beneath his eyelashes. “So, what, Robin read you the riot act? Did she actually bring the nail bat?”

Eddie sputtered, and a spray of beer landed on Steve’s face. “I’m sorry, the nail what? And you knew she was gonna come after?”

Steve laughed, open and loud, as he wiped the spittle from his face. “Oh, yeah, I guess you’ve never seen it before.”

“Seen what, Harrington!” Eddie shrieked. “Why in the world do you have something that can be called a ‘nail bat’?”

“There are monsters in Hawkins, dude,” Steve said simply. “Were,” he corrected with a shake of his head. “There were monsters in Hawkins.”

“Yeah. I’ve only seen them once and I still don’t believe they’re really gone.”

Steve nodded.

Eddie exhaled, and then steepled his hands under his chin like he was considering evidence. “Okay, so: you have a freaky bat filled with nails, and your freaky life partner stormed into my trailer so that she could threaten my freaky ass with it. Great, awesome. What the fuck is my life?” Eddie dug his fingers into his hair, heedless of the way it yanked some strands out of the bun entirely, and left others in disarray.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve been asking myself that for the past four years, man. If you come up with an answer, let me know.”

“And—And!” Eddie jumped up onto the stool so that he was perched atop it, balancing on the balls of his feet. He started gesticulating wildly into Steve’s face. “On top of all of that I’m supposed to believe that strait-laced Steve Harrington was acting all weird and evasive because he was working up the courage to ask me out?”

“You know, for someone who talks a good game about nonconformity, you’ve sure got a lot of preconceived notions about what other people are supposed to be like.”

Eddie dropped back down onto the stool like the wind had been taken out of his sails. “I know,” he said, expression serious. “I just…sometimes you’ve gotta jump to quick conclusions to keep yourself safe.”

Steve nodded, staring down at his hands as he picked at the label of the sweating beer bottle. “Yeah…that makes sense. And it’s not like I always would have been a safe guy to flirt with—jokingly or not.”

Eddie shrugged. “Maybe not. But that was a while ago. I think this version of you deserved for me to give you the benefit of the doubt. I could have at least fucking asked why you were being so cagey around me, instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“You can now,” Steve offered.

Eddie smiled. “Okay…I’ll bite: Steve, why’d you keep acting like a skittish little rabbit around me?”

“I did not—”

“You totally did! Always vibrating, looking like you were seconds from hopping off.” Eddie bit his lip, glancing down with a shy smile—and then Eddie got to pull off the flirtatious glancing-through-the-eyelashes thing. God, what a classic. Steve felt himself flush in response. “It was kind of cute, honestly.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you must know…” Steve trailed off, the light tone slipping away. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever wanted to ask out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, staring off to the side. “I was scared too, you know? I was pretty sure you liked me—I mean, at least I didn’t think you disliked me—but even with all the flirting, I couldn’t be sure, you know? It’s all so…different. From what I’m used to. Even beyond that, I haven’t—” Steve cut himself off, not sure he could give away this last piece of the puzzle.

“You haven’t…?”

“I haven’t felt this strongly about someone since Nancy. And I can’t—I don’t think I could stand something else blowing up in my face the same way that did.”

Eddie was quiet for several beats. “How’d things with Wheeler blow up?”

Steve turned back to meet Eddie’s gaze. “I think that’s a conversation for another day. This one’s already got me beat.”

Eddie nodded, and let silence fall between them for a bit. For the first time since Eddie’d come in, he didn’t feel like he could taste ash on the air. “Hey Steve?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“You wanna try now?”

“Try what?”

“Asking out a guy for the first time.”

“Oh…” Steve studied Eddie’s face carefully for a few long, silent moments, before determining there was nothing to find there beyond a simple and honest certainty. “I think I’m still a little mad at you.”

“Do you think you’ll forgive me?”

Steve smiled sadly with a tilt of his head. “You know I will.”

“Man, I’m not holding you to the contents of fucking Wham! lyrics just because they were the soundtrack for your gay wallowing.”

“Oh, but if it was a different song playing in the background you would?” Steve asked.

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, ‘course I would.”

“I thought we’d established that now was a bad time to be critiquing my music taste.”

“I don’t fucking care if you listen to, Wham!, Steve—I just don’t wanna listen to them.”

Steve smiled and leaned forward. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m kinda ambivalent about them, but Dustin made that mixtape for me when I was getting over Nancy.”

“Huh. There’s…a lot going on there. And I think I’ve probably stuck my foot in it enough times today to avoid trying to wade in.”

“You’re a smart man, Eddie Munson.”

“Tell that to Ms. O’Donnell.” Eddie grabbed one of the strands he’d pulled out from his bun earlier and pulled it in front of his face. “So, are ya gonna do it?”

Steve smirked, leaning further into Eddie’s space. “Am I gonna do what, Eddie?”

“You know what, Harrington.”

“I thought I told you to call me Steve.”

As Eddie opened his mouth to reply, Steve closed the space between them and drew him into a kiss.

When Steve pulled back a moment later, he was rewarded with the sight of Eddie’s eyes fluttering back open as he breathed out Steve’s name on a sigh.

He reached up to tuck the strand of hair that had fallen from Eddie’s slackened grip behind his ear. “So, Eddie Munson—would you like to go out with me?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

Eddie’s apology bouquet:

Hyacinth (purple): “please forgive me”

Green Carnations: symbol of love between two men, popularized by Oscar Wilde wearing a green carnation as an accessory

Fairy lilies (Rainflower): “I love you back” / “I must atone for my sins”

Ragweed (Ambrosia): love is reciprocated

Meanings pulled from Wikipedia’s “List of plants with symbolism” (although I did already know the green carnations one before writing this). I did not do a whole lot of research into properly constructing bouquets so as to convey messages/meaning, so if you’re an expert floriographist, please don’t look at me (or: feel free to point out everything I got wrong, because I do actually find the language of flowers really interesting).

Also, we are hand-waving away the fact that it probably would have taken Eddie more than a day to get a custom bouquet, okay? We are also ignoring the fact that most people are allergic to ragweed—if it tickles you I'm declaring that Steve is not but Eddie is and made himself sneeze the whole way over to Steve's house.

Why did Steve know the names of all of the flowers? Because I said so, that’s why. (That, or, if you please: in the world of this fic Steve’s mom is a hobbyist gardener and he used to help her out in the yard during the summer.)

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #unlike part one this one is entirely steve's pov #there wasn't a natural point at which to switch to eddie's but at some point I may go back and do the whole thing from eddie's pov #(if i do that will be at a point that is not tomorrow)#read writes

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dameronology · 7 months

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be still (matt murdock)

summary: matt is the only one who he'll let get close when he has a bad day

warnings: just language ig

sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months and not writing a single thing. this might be my comback, or all you will get for another year. we'll see! love u all.

To the rest of the world, Matt Murdock was hard to read.

To you, he was like your favourite book. One you’d read a thousand times; with a plot line you knew like the back of your hand. Every bump on his skin; every raised scar and jagged red wound from his night shifts; you knew the story behind them all. The long pink line on his back was fall out from a fight with the Yakuza two years back. The deep, sunken jag on his right hand was from an unfortunate incident when he was chopping up some vegetables two years ago. I might have super senses, he’d joked, but there are some things you just need sight for.

Matt’s emotions were no different. There were days when even Foggy wasn’t sure what he was thinking – whether his stony face was from boredom or anger, or whether his smile was happiness or just a slightly misshapen grimace. With a life as complicated as his, it wasn’t surprising that Matt came with the feeling to match. In the early days of your relationship, it was something you’d struggled with, but now you knew his signals and his tells. You could see a bad mood coming from a mile off, almost like a thunderstorm on a summer day. Equally, you knew his good moods from the way he would greet you brightly in the morning, or his anxious ones from the way he held your hand. They weren’t always easy to forecast but at least it made things a little more predictable.

A cold Tuesday morning in the fall was no different. September had just come, bringing with it shorter days and colder nights. The tension in your bedroom was high from the moment you woke up – actually, it had been since the small hours of the morning. Matt had come crashing in without a word, gear ditched to the floor. Any questions of his wellbeing or how his night had been ignored as he passed out beside you, back turned the other way. His snores had been the first thing you’d heard from him that night – not a single word, not even a grunt. You could feel an invisible line down the middle of the bed. It wasn’t one you wanted to cross.

You woke up naturally with the daylight- perks of it being a Sunday, you figured (though not a silver lining. Today didn’t feel like a day to be looking for those). Matt was still, tired body heaving with deep breaths as he slept. It was hard to shake the feeling of anxiety that had snuck its way into your stomach; butterflies now felt like wasps and any previous inclination you’d had to reach out to him had died with the hope of him waking up before you and apologising.

“Dickhead,” you muttered.

(You knew he would hear you).

Still, you knew something was up. Even if he’d projected it onto you by swatting your hands away last night and completely blanking you, something was up. It took a moment of building up the courage in your head, but as Matt let out a yawn and rolled over, you quickly moved to snuggle into his side. His hands were on his front, so you made a second attempt to tangle your fingers with his. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t resist either. You stayed like that for a moment, until his dark eyes shot open, and he let out a heavy sigh.

You could have pretended to still be asleep, purely just to avoid dealing with the situation, but who were you fooling? The man was like a human sonar. He would know immediately from your breathing that you were awake. Plus, your not-so-quiet insult just moments earlier didn’t exactly align with something you could brush off as sleep talk.

Matt sat up, blinking for a moment. Any other morning, he would have pulled you into him; pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you tight. Not today, though. He snatched his hand away from yours and shrugged you off, pattering across the wooden floor out the bedroom and to the bathroom. The door slammed and a second later, you heard the spattering of the shower.

You stayed there for a second, heart thumping in your chest and heard swirling with thoughts. Why was he being shitty? Was it your fault? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t fair on you to jump to those conclusions. If he had a problem, it was on him to tell you. You’d made it clear from day one that you hated guessing games. Guess Who was one thing but Guess Why I’m Angry At You had no winners.

The water eventually stopped. Rather than coming back through to the bedroom as he normally would, there was silence. You frowned for a moment – what the fuck was he doing? Was he actually that intent on avoiding you?

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, swinging your legs out of bed and heading out of the bedroom. Matt was the first thing you saw in the living room, skin still covered in droplets of water from the sofa, butt fuck naked. He had a file open in front of him, callous fingers following over the braille as he read it, barely pausing to acknowledge your presence. You could have made a comment about him getting your thousand-dollar sofa wet, even a joke, but that didn’t feel like the right play.

“Hey,” you said.

No answer.

“I have to ask,” you continued, crossing the room and taking a seat beside him. Not close enough for your legs to be touching, but close enough that he knew you were there. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m just tired.”

His voice was barely above a whisper – barely even there. Something was seriously wrong.

“Okay,” you hummed.

You stayed like that for a moment – even though you could predict Matt’s mood, you couldn’t always predict what he wanted. If you touched him, would he flinch, or would the front come down? It was like hugging a nuclear bomb, even if the idea of his temper coming out on you was unfathomable.

“Do you want a coffee?” you gently asked.

Another pause.

“Yeah. I could do with a coffee.”

Trying to keep your nerves feigned, you crossed the room to the kitchen, hands working automatically. Kettle filled, turned on, two mugs out. One sugar and a tiny bit of milk for Matt, and then two sugars and no milk for you. He liked the blue mug, because it was easier to hold, and you preferred the purple one because it was the same shade of violet as the dress Taylor wore on the front of Speak Now. You’d brought it in a clearance sale when you and Matt just started seeing each other, and it was one of the first things you actually kept at his apartment.

You returned to the sofa, placing the coffee on the table in front of you. There was still no word from Matthew – not even a hm in place of a thank you.

“You’re worrying me,” you murmured.

Blanked.

Rolling your eyes – and finally getting sick of his head – you whacked the file out his hands and collapsed into his side. He didn’t immediately respond, but a moment later, his hand came down to touch your thigh. He gave your leg a squeeze, and you felt a minute bit of tension rise from the room. Not all of it, but the physical touch was enough to know that things would be okay.

You stayed like that for a moment, before wrapping your arms around him completely. You fell back into the sofa, letting Matt collapse into your chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, skin sticking to yours from where he was still drying, but you didn’t give a shit. You just wanted to hold him, hands roaming over his tense back, stopping on his shoulder blades and using your grip to pull him closer.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you said. “Just for a little while.”

He didn’t resist as you took his hand, tangling your fingers together and leading him back to the bedroom. Matt was hot on your heels, like a lost puppy now, and there was barely a second between you falling back first onto the bed and him following you. His entire body was on yours, legs tangling into a web and arms digging underneath your torso to hug you, head buried in your shoulder. He was limp – almost completely void of emotion.

Whatever barrier Matt had been putting up was gone, because as soon as you tangled a hand in his hair you could feel his hot tears on your skin. He’d only cried in front of you once before and that had been when you’d nearly died after a minor mishap (though he’d argue it was probably more). That meant that whatever had happened on patrol last night must have fucked him up a little – you didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t want to him to think he couldn’t talk about it.

“I’m here if you need,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you just wanna lay here or you just wanna talk, I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” his voice was still quiet. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

You tightened your grip on him and he tried to shuffle closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. You were completely skin to skin and chest to chest, his forehead flush with your collarbone. It was raining outside now, the sound of water hitting the window filling the room with where tension used to be. That was gone now – maybe it hadn’t been there at all, just a figment of your anxiety.

You felt Matt’s eyelashes brush against your skin as he closed your eyes. Sleep was good. It was probably what you both needed, and with his warm, heavy body on yours, it was also hard to resist.

(All you could do was hope that you didn’t need to pee any time soon).

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil imagines #marvel imagines

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artists-ally · 6 months

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{Train Wreck} Azriel x Cassian!Sister {Pt.1}

I am in love with this song, Train Wreck by Divide the Day and cannot get it out of my head. I feel like Azriel loves a good broken girl because she can relate to all of him. So here is the first part of that! Enjoy my loves!! lmk what you think!! (i got too excited waiting for the poll to end)

Word Count: 7,947

Warnings: Modern AU, OFC, angst, mentions of crimes, mentions of trauma, language, alcohol.

Summary: It has been far too long since Ira has seen her brother. They meet again under neither of their own terms and struggle to find any room in their hearts for pleasantries. But at least there is a hot, dark-haired, hot, buffer to focus on instead.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @librafairy @needylilgal022

Part Two

~~~~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was-” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost five years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement. How fucking rude of him not to tell me. I had to find out through a friend of a friend.

Fifteen years growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning.

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked.

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “Just turned 21. You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.”

Was it my plan to break into that restaurant and pose as waiters to make a few extra dollars? Yes, it absolutely was. And it was genius plan that if someone didn’t fuck up, it would’ve worked flawlessly. It ended with me in handcuffs and my ass sitting on the curb until Dana came to pick me up.

Was it also my idea to drive four fucking hours away from my hometown to the middle of nowhere to be babysat? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground.

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head.

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” Cassian said.

Cassian, six-foot-five and one hell of a bastard. He knew just how to get under your skin and make you want to punch him in the face. Which I had done on more than one occasion when he dug too deep.

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man said, extending his hand. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to be publicly humiliated. I wish it was still the 1500’s where they parade you down the street and then execute you so I could at least see all the resentment on everyone’s faces.

“Dana!” I could practically hear that obnoxious grin in his voice before I could see it. “I was not expecting you guys, come in this is so awesome to-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I damn near tripped over him. He must’ve grown again because he was a lot taller than the last time I saw him. “She is.” “Ira?” He squinted, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. “Holy shit, I didn’t even know you were still around.” “You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up on me,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasent.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no.”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned inside.

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left Ira has done nothing but cause me a headache and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around at christmas because no one wants it.”

“I have a family to take care of, I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Now, let's just take this down a couple of notches, okay? It has been a long drive so why don’t we just go inside and-”

“Cass? What’s going on?”

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door, a pretty woman standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder.

“Nothing, these people were just-”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. Now, if I had died and gone to heaven and you told me that was an angel, I’d believe you.

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “Nesta, Rhys, this is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. He didn’t even tell them about me? Some fucking brother he is. I didn’t want to be here, but now I really wanted to see where this was going to go. It could be entertaining.

“They were just-” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. Like come on lady, grow a set and just say what you really mean it’s not that hard.

I smiled victoriously as Arthur and Dana were escorted inside. When I looked up at Cassian, he had rage in his eyes. “Good to see you too, Cassie.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.”

I closed the trunk and followed behind a storming Cassian. His shoulders might as well have been pinned to his ears. It looked like a stick was shoved up his ass.

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in fairytales, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to. There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and things were on display. Everywhere. I don’t think I have seen so many things before in my life.

While Cassian pouted in the corner, the man named Rhys showed us all around. He pointed and spoke, but I received a text on my phone.

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know I’m bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS!!!!!! HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME!

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because I don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again. fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

Great, now the only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. I had no one back in my hometown. No one to remember or care for me. I don’t think I ever had someone in the first place. What happens when you don’t have anyone to teach you right from wrong? What do you get when you mix a traumatized teenager in a city with nothing to do? A hot mess. A hot fucking mess.

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy.

“Why don’t you all stay for dinner, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre said, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house.

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool.

“Oh, we really have to get back on the road,” Arthur said, folding his hands together and swaying on his feet. “It was a pleasure getting to meet all of you, it makes me happy knowing that Cassian has found such a great group of successful, intelligent people.”

That last part was vehemently directed at me.

“Why are you looking at me? Cassian already said that I couldn’t stay.”

“Well I am sure that-”

“Why wouldn’t you stay?” Rhys asked, folding his arms against his chest.

I looked at Dana and Arthur, patiently waiting for someone to explain it. No takers? Guess it’s my time to shine. “Well, I think it’s because he doesn’t give a flying fuck about-”

“Okay okay,” Cassian interjected, and a devious grin spread across my lips. “Stay for dinner.”

What a two faced son of a bitch. It wasn’t me who decided to leave, it was him. And he’s pissed at me? Not fucking fair. We all went inside, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me– why was everyone throwing me around– into a room off to the side.

“What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.”

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. I loved that.

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here. How the hell did you even find me?” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset.

“I know a guy,” I shrugged. Antoine is an amazing man. “But that’s besides the point. Wait… were you purposefully trying to disappear so I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.”

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear.

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are. He was tall and muscular and had long hair. Shoulder length, but the longest I’ve ever seen it. It suited him.

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked. I feel like Nesta and I would be great friends. Cause a lot of trouble together. Piss off Cass together

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet.

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” a pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Absolutely,” I grinned, linking her elbow with mine when she offered. I knew Cassian had walked into the room because of his massive feet against the floor. He said something, but I didn’t care because I was giggling with Mor as we rounded a corner to a set of stairs.

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors.

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have something I could change into, do you?”

“Oh, of course. Let's go find you something. You were saying about Cassian?”

“Right, it’s a constant reminder of that prick every time I look in the mirror.”

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in a goddamn nightmare,” I groaned, sitting on the corner of her bed while she rummaged through a closet. “I mean, it has been five years since I’ve seen the guy, and he still looks like the same idiot who used to pay me to do his laundry.”

“He what?” Mor gasped.

“Yeah. He threw one red sock in with the whites and vowed to neer do it again. So I, the natural entrepreneur, snagged up the opportunity to take his allowance. Five bucks a wash was a good deal considering he needed to have a load done twice a week. And god did it smell.”

“Well, in the five years since I’ve known him, it hasn’t gotten any better. And suddenly it makes a lot more sense when I see Rhys doing more laundry than anyone else. Interesting.”

I shook my head. I guess things haven't really changed. I’ve been saying that way too much in the past half hour we’ve been here. Could this go any slower? Like seriously, why couldn’t Dana and Arthur leave, then I would pretend to be good for a few hours until the sun goes down. I’ll make my way to the nearest bus stop and hitch-hike it all the way back.

Mor came out and held up a gorgeous top; it was a powder blue color with a square neckline and long, puff sleeves. She tossed it my way and then ran back in there for something on the bottom.

“What’s your style? Skirt? Jeans? Leggings?” Mor called, and by the muffled noise, I could tell her closet was huge.

A dream.

“I’ll take a skirt if you have one,” I said, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “Leather maybe? Or just black.”

“You’ve got good taste,” she smirked, coming out and handing me a black leather skirt. “Exactly what I would’ve gone with. The bathroom is right through there, I’m gonna head back down stairs and just come down whenever you’re ready. Oh, and if you want to do your hair, everything is in the drawer in the vanity. The big one on the right.”

I looked at her with soft eyes. I’ve always wanted to have a sister to do all that girly shit with. To gossip and do makeup at three in the morning, giggling and laughing until we can’t breathe.

But I can’t get too attached. She’s clearly just being nice, just being a good person. I know nothing about her, I can’t just trust her.

So I nodded, heading off and closing the door behind me. Fuck. This was a big ass bathroom. A huge freestanding tub and an equally impressive shower.

I shed my shirt and folded it up haphazardly, same with my jeans. The shirt she gave me made my boobs look fantastic. There wasn’t a ton there, but more than enough to fill out the shirt. The skirt was a bit of a different story. Clearly Mor had never been to a gym because there was no way my ass was fitting in that.

Thankfully I had learned a trick from a friend. That friend was the internet. And that trick was a skill I had developed from stealing whatever clothes I could get my hands on. I had to make it work somehow. But I found a hair tie and looped it through the hole where the button was in the middle, hooking it around the button and back through.

As good as it was going to get.

My hair wasn’t awful, just a little greasy and wind blown from being outside. There was some dry shampoo and a comb. It would do the trick.

Much like everyone has already pointed out, the hair that Cassian and I shared was a little unruly. It only curled through the ends and was wavy the rest of the way. And the baby hairs? Forget about it, I was better just cutting them off.

I looked in the mirror. Well… it was certainly an outfit. I definitely had an appropriate amount of clothes on my body for a family dinner. The shirt only came up to my underboob and the skirt barely covered where my ass met my thighs.

It did wonders for my self confidence. Guess it’ll have to do.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. Especially when Dana saw what I was wearing.

No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. I made sure to make my sip as obnoxious and dramatic as possible. Man I was starving.

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on my up here. It was a semi nice drive, very peaceful, but very very far from the shit-hole I used to call home.

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked.

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel. We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys.

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. All the alarm bells were going off in my head. A big cartoon ‘cha-ching’ right there with it. He ran a casino? And a hotel? Oh boy this could be good. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap.

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us.

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food.

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me.

It was so funny to see the look of pure hatred and disgust on Cassian’s stupid face.

I swear, pissing off a sibling, especially an older one, has got to be the most satisfying thing in the world. Except for maybe sex. That was a close second.

And whatever this food was was a close third.

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?”

Here we go.

“I kind of have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table.

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?’”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for.

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake.

“I guess I did.”

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“Oh my god one time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth.

“Ira told me that you used to pay her to do your laundry because you fucked it up one time,” Mor snickered from her corner, Elain covering her lips with her hand to keep the water inside her mouth.

“Seriously?” Cassian glared at me.

“Hey, she asked. Those are trade sibling secrets, I wouldn’t dare give those away without something in return,” I gestured to my new outfit. Just and FYI, I would’ve told Mor regardless.

“Yes you would.”

Yes, I absolutely would. “Lighten up,” here it comes, “Cassie.”

Cheers and laughs raised in the air, Rhys punching Cassian in the shoulder and saying the nickname over and over again. He gave me the nastiest look, but I just tipped my glass towards him.

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking-

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this. Our beloved Cassie used to pay his sister to do his laundry. And I found out the reason he runs away whenever any of us set peanut butter on the counter.”

“Sister?”

Okay, I was surely in heaven. Or hell, and he was some sort of demon prince because… someone help me. If I thought Rhys was attractive then… fuck he’s hot. Unnaturally hot. Otherworldly hot.

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel.”

He was so hot. That was the only thing going through my mind. He was exactly my type. And he was fucking ripped. I could tell. I didn’t need to see under the shirt he was barely wearing. It was so tight in all the right places. Fuck he was pretty to look at.

“Nice to meet you,” I tumbled out.

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. Unfortunately he sat on the other side of Mor, who was to my left so I wouldn’t be able to look at him. That’s all I wanted to do was just drink him in and think about those massive fucking hands on my-

A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze.

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, sliding a thumb across his throat.

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me more enticed. Azriel was hot, and so was I. I’d make it happen one way or another.

I couldn’t have told you what happened next, I was far too busy thinking about Azriel. Man he was… he was so fucking good looking. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. I’m sure he looked like a Greek god under those clothes of his, too.

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words.

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room.

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head.

“I think I better uhh… better explain a little bit.” My heart sped up a bit. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” “It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Five-six years now I think? I don’t know, I stopped counting after eight months,” I shrugged. Truth is I haven’t stopped counting the days since he left. I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?”

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel.

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?”

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club attached. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds fun,” I smirked. He owned a club? Could he get any hotter? “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” her grin matched my own. “And I model here and there.” “Badass.” “I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table.

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards.

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor.

“Oh,” fuck fuck fuck fuck. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?”

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for Triple A to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years.

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together.

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me.

Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm.

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out.

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a shiver down my spine and a smirk curled at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker.

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room.

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool, and some part of me wishes I could have what they all have. Trust in one another.

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere.

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes.

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” “I know.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted.

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?"

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it.

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira-” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that-”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth.

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. He had changed into all black. Fuck him and his good looks and his perpetually messy hair that I wanted to tug on.

“Everything alright?”

No, you fucking prick.

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled.

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, had it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else.

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway.

I could easily pick out which one was his; the yellow one with the black stripes on the hood. He always loved to be bold. How he fit in there I’ll never know.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, tucking my boob back into the shirt since it slipped out. Not my proudest moment for sure.

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, folding the shirt and skirt up to give back to Mor. It didn’t feel right to take them. She didn’t do anything wrong.

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The chill of the early morning greeted me and I slipped out silently.

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary.

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped.

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it.

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great.

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to Dana and Robert that I would look after you. I miss you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did."

So what if he made a promise to Dana and Arthur? He made a promise to me first. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice.

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help.

Throw Cassian back into the mix and my kleptomaniac behaviors will definitely skyrockets.

“Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?”

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop.

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry. I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my alarm bells are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach is melting into him and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes of his. So unfair.

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this was going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. And maybe there was something salvageable between Cassian and I. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to be able to trust him ever again, but he was still Cassie. That same smug son of a bitch who gave the best hugs in the world.

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end. Mostly just to piss him off and make him sulk.

“I want a real fucking room.”

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone.

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then.

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad.

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in.

“Fine, you can have my room here,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.” “Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yes, you are going to work hard. You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. And you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants,” my turn to roll my eyes. “And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart.”

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet,” I genuinely could not see it.

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to-”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

Life is too short to not fuck who you want, who gives a shit about what other people think. Sorry Cassian, but I am gonna fucking break that promise if it’s the last thing I do. And so help me god when I do get my hands on him because I’ll never let go.

#acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar fandom #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x ofc #azriel x oc #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #cassian acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fic

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

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“i can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

12 years ago, Elvis chose his career over you. What happens when he shows up at your door asking for a second chance?

a/n: this is entirely based on a dialogue prompt I saw from @twelvegods: “I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” apparently it was a really good prompt because it inspired all 8,735 words of this lol. I I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it <3 Thank you all again so so so much for 500 followers!!

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a couple swear words, lots of angst in the first half, Y/N has trust issues oops, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

That’s what Elvis Presley had said to you when he was just 20 years old and his career was starting to take off, thanks in large part (as Elvis said) to the Colonel. And you, being the young girl in love that you were, believed him.

What a fool you were.

You managed to stay together for another year before the Colonel, his claws digging into Elvis’s heart and soul to bleed all the green he could out of him, managed to convince him that appearing single would be what was best for his career— he had to let all those screaming girls believe they had a chance with him, after all.

“Baby please,” Elvis pleaded, “this is for my career. I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll get back together, you’ll see.”

You shook your head, “No, Elvis. I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you like some damsel in distress. If you want me, keep me. But otherwise…”

You paused, waiting for him to say something. Begging, pleading, praying he would say something, that you had managed to change his mind.

When he said nothing, you exploded.

You had screamed and cried, and he had screamed and cried, and you had taken your things that had made their way into his room in Graceland and stormed out of his life for good, only pausing to give him one final sincere “I love you” before you walked out the door.

The last image you had of him (that wasn’t on a tv screen or poster) was of him standing in the foyer in Graceland, tears streaming down his face, refusing to chase after you.

You hoped that time would eventually heal your wounded heart, but apparently whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking idiot because it was now just over a decade later and you were still as in love with Elvis Presley as you had been when you were one of the only girls in the world who knew his name.

He, evidently, didn’t feel the same.

That much was clear, at least, based on the way he was still overly flirtatious with his audience in his shows, not to mention the rumors about relationships with his movie co-stars. In his shows, before he went off to Germany, he had taken to stepping down into the audience and kissing practically every woman in the room. That alone cleared any remaining doubts from your mind that he still thought about you in any capacity, despite that little voice in the back of your head that still held out some futile, desperate hope.

You’re about to curl up on the couch with some tea and your copy of Anne of Green Gables — exactly what you need on a rainy day like today — when someone knocks on your door.

“You expecting anyone, Y/N?” your friend Annie calls from the hall. You had been living with her for about 5 years down in Louisiana, after the memories in Memphis had become too much, and you loved it.

“Nope,” You call back, wondering who on earth would be knocking on doors in this weather. “If it’s one of those door-to-door salesmen, slam it in his face again.” You suggest with a laugh.

“Will do,” comes her reply, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

You turn you attention back to your book as the door opens, and nearly spill your tea all over yourself as you hear a sultry drawl you hadn’t heard in person in over a decade.

“Hi Annie… is Y/N here?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re sure Annie is as stunned as you are, then:

“Maybe,” she replies curtly, “What do ya want?”

Annie knew the whole story of you and Elvis, and she had sworn that she’d never let you get hurt like that ever again.

“Please, Annie, I just wanna talk to her.”

“And why should I let you? You’ve got a lotta nerve comin’ here after what you did—“

You’re not sure what prompts you to set your book and mug down and sigh “Annie, just let him in,” but you’re just as surprised as Annie is that you did.

She reluctantly steps aside to let him in, eyeing him warily the entire time.

Your eyes drink him in; this is the first time you’re seeing him in person in over 12 years, and your mind automatically catalogs the differences since you last saw him. He’s tanned, with a few more freckles, a result of the California sun, no doubt, and tinted glasses hide his eyes. His burgundy suit is soaked, and his hair, which was no doubt carefully styled before, now flops onto his forehead, dripping into his eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses, revealing tired blue eyes. From the way his eyes track along your body, he was drinking you in the same way you had done him.

There’s a beat of silence, then his eyes finally meet yours.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You maintain a straight face, unwilling to be taken in so easily.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice cold. You want nothing more than to rush into his arms, but you remind yourself: he chose his career over you, and never looked back.

“I fired the Colonel,” he blurts, after several moments of trying to figure out what to say.

“About time,” you snort, dropping your serious demeanor for a split second, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. A lotta mistakes, really, but letting you go was the biggest one I ever made in my life. I missed you so, so much, and I—“

You cut him off, “Elvis, cut the shit. You made it very clear you moved on from me.”

“Y/N, I never stopped thinkin’ about you, I promise.”

“Sure, and was that before or after you kissed every girl in the audience at the end of every damn show?”

“Y/N, I—“ he starts, frustrated, then takes a deep breath. He starts again, calmer, softer, “I know how that looks. But I… I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes.

You feel your cracked heart melt just a little at his words, and yet…

“I don’t…” you sigh, “I don’t believe you. You put your career before me over a decade ago, and I tried to move on, but I couldn’t when I was seeing your face and hearing your voice everywhere, and it hurt like hell. And now you walk back in here, tell me you just made a mistake, and… what? Expect me to take you back just like that?”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, an echo of his plea back when he broke your heart for the first time, “I know I messed up bad, but… it’s you. It’s always been you, with those girls in the audience, even with Ann-Margret… I was always thinkin’ about you. And I’m willin’ to do whatever I have to to fix this. Anything. I mean it.”

And you can see the conviction in his eyes, like he’s that little boy again who believed he was Captain Marvel Jr. and could fly his family out of poverty to the Rock of Eternity. You know in your bones that he’d buy you the moon if it meant he could love you again.

But you’d made the mistake of believing his promises before.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you won’t drop me when your next manager thinks that’d be ‘what’s best for your career’?”

He winces as you throw the Colonel’s words from all those years ago back in his face. “I know I ruined any kind of trust you had in me that day, and I can’t tell you enough how goddamn sorry I am, Y/N. But I’m not askin’ for you to forgive me right now, I just want a chance to try and fix this. That’s all, I swear.”

He waits as you process his words, practically holding his breath as you think of how to reply.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

He nods. “That’s all I’m askin’ for, sw— Y/N,” he fumbles to avoid using the old pet name for you.

“I think you should go now,” you say, your voice cold again to hide how the almost-pet name brought a storm of feelings rushing back..

“Right, um..” he fumbles around in his pocket, producing a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it, “Gimme a call, if you want? I’ve gotta head back to Memphis in a couple days, that’ll probably be the easiest way to reach me if you, uh, decide anything.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing at it quickly before stuffing it in your pocket. The number was for Graceland’s house phone; a number you’d never forgotten for a second, not that you’d be telling Elvis that.

“Well, um… bye Y/N, Annie,” he nods as he moves past your roommate towards the door. He pauses, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You look good, Y/N,” he says softly before heading back out into the downpour.

The “you, too” you whisper in reply is lost in the sound of rain hitting the pavement outside.

The enormity of everything that had just transpired suddenly hits you and you fall back onto the couch, tears welling up in your eyes.

Annie rushes over, concerned. You look up as she fusses over you.

“Was that… did that actually just happen?”

Annie nods, “Yeah, it did, honey. I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“Did I do the right thing?” You wring your hands, suddenly second-guessing every decision you made during the interaction with Elvis.

“I know I’ve always said that I’d punch him in his smug face if he ever showed up here after what he did to you,” Annie says, “But I see the way you look at him when he shows up on the TV, and that ain’t the look of someone who’s just angry at an ex. You’re still in love with him, honey, I know it, and I feel like a fresh start is what both of you need. I don’t mean to overstep,” she drawls, “But if I can give you some advice: just start over as friends. Don’t jump back into a relationship right away. Try to make it organic. A clean slate.”

“A clean slate,” you echo, processing her words.

You mull over what to do for a few days, worst and best-case scenarios swirling around your brain, and eventually dial Graceland. Your foot taps anxiously as you lean against the wall by the phone, listening to it ring.

“Hullo?” A raspy voice comes over the receiver.

“Hi, Elvis,” you say, trying your best to sound casual, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he stammers, sounding less like the confident King of Rock and Roll superstar and more like the shy little kid you’d grown up with, “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” You reply, “Look, I did some thinking about what you said and, well… I’ve got a couple questions before I decide anything.”

“Sure, yeah, what is it?”

“Well, first of all… why now?”

“Huh?”

You sigh, “It’s been over 10 years, Elvis. What made you come back now? What made you fire the Colonel after all this time?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t very happy with the movies the Colonel was signing me up for. And then he planned this whole silly special for NBC…” he sighs, “I’ve been lost ever since I lost Mama— before that, even, when I lost—“ he cuts himself off with an awkward cough, “uh, anyway; he wasn’t helping. And I finally realized that he didn’t really care what I wanted to do. It was all about profit for him,” he says quietly. He goes on to explain hiring Binder and Bones to help with the special, to “find himself” again, and the realization he’d had that he hadn’t truly felt like himself since he’d left you.

“Hm,” is your only response at first, trying to shove down the warmth growing in your chest. “Well, um… thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to know, Y/N… you can trust me. I know I ruined that back then, but I’d really like a chance to try and rebuild it with you if I can.”

“I think I’d like that, too.” You say after a moment of silence. “Look, Elvis, I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, if we’re gonna do this, to pick up right where we left off. We need a… a clean slate. So what if we started over as friends?” You fidget with the phone cord as you await his reply.

There are several moments of silence, and you're wondering if something happened with the call before his raspy drawl comes over the phone once more.

“I’d love to be your friend again, Y/N.”

A wave of relief floods your body, and you smile. You think for a moment before speaking again, saying hesitantly, “I’m coming up to visit for Mama’s birthday next weekend, and… maybe we could see each other then? That would be a ‘friend’ thing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great, well,” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’ll just give you a call when I’m back home and we can figure everything out then?”

“Whatever works for you is fine with me,” he assures you, “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me, too,” you say softly, allowing a tiny bit of the warmth you felt earlier to creep back. “I’ll see you next weekend, then.”

“See you then,” he says and with a click, the phone is back to humming a dial tone.

You’re buzzing with anticipation for the next week, not only excited to see your family but also to see Elvis.

“Y/N!” Your mother rushes out as you pull into the driveway of your family’s Memphis home, “My baby’s home!”

“Happy birthday, Mama,” you smile as she rushes up to give you a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Thank you, darlin’. Come inside, honey, come in!” she insists, grabbing your suitcase from you despite your protests.

“Honey!” she calls to your father as she leads you into your childhood home, “Look who’s finally decided to come for a visit!”

“Mama, I was just here for Easter,” you remind her as you head to the living room to greet your father. “Hi Daddy,” you smile as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, “Louisiana treatin’ you well?”

You nod, “Mhm. Everyone’s real nice, and Annie’s always lookin’ out for me.”

You fill your parents in on life in Louisiana, and in return they (your mother, mostly) regale you with all the Memphis gossip you’ve missed. Apparently the young couple next door had a baby recently, another young couple in town just got married, and oh yes, Elvis came back fr—

“Mary Ann, you know I don’t like talkin’ about that boy!” your father exclaims, cutting your mother off.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, Walter,” your mother retorts, “It’s not as if we can pretend he doesn’t exist, not when he’s such a big part of this town…”

As you listen to your parents bicker, you decide that now might as well be as good a time as any to bring up your new friendship.

“Actually, Mama,” you interrupt their bickering, “I’m gonna try and meet up with Elvis while I’m in town this weekend…”

Your father’s expression flickers between confusion and anger at your words, while your mother’s morphs into one of delight.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, “Though I admit, I thought you’d’ve at least called to tell us you got back together—“

“Mama!” You cut her off, heat flooding your face, “We’re not back together, I promise,” you add with a glance over to your father. “He showed up at our place last week, we had a talk, and we’re gonna try to be friends again.”

“Well I’m glad to see the two of you are startin’ over, honey,” your mother says with a smile

“I still don’t trust that boy,” your father grumbles. “Just… be careful, alright?”

You nod, “Of course, you know I always am, Daddy.”

”When were you two planning on meeting up?” your mother asks.

You shrug, “We haven’t figured out the details yet. I was gonna call him today to sort everything out.”

”Well you should invite him over for dinner while you’re in town.” your mother suggests, with just a hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eye, ignoring your father’s clear alarm at the suggestion.

You groan. “Mama, no, he really doesn’t need to come for dinner—“

”Y/N L/N, inviting a friend over for dinner is a polite thing to do,” your mother scolds, “and in this house we are always…?”

“Polite and respectful,” you mumble, repeating the words that had been drilled into you in childhood.

She nods, satisfied. ”It’s settled then. You two will have your little meetup and then he can come over for dinner that night, or the next if it suits him.”

”Yes, Mama,” you say, resigned. “I’ll go call him now.”

You make your way over to the kitchen, dialing the number you’ve had memorized for over 12 years.

“Hello?” The same raspy voice comes over the receiver.

”Hey, it’s um, it’s me. Y/N.”

”Oh, hey. Um, how are ya?”

”I’m alright. I’m back in town now, and Mama’s bein’… well, Mama, so you can imagine.” you say with a soft laugh.

”Oh, I can imagine,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “How was the drive up?”

The two of you make small talk for a bit, slowly easing back into being a part of each other’s lives, and eventually you remember the reason you called. “Oh, yeah, by the way; I was calling to see if there was a day or time that worked for you as far as meeting up this weekend?”

”Oh, yeah.” You can hear some rustling on his end, and you assume he’s checking his schedule. “I’m actually free this afternoon around 1 if that works? Or tomorrow?”

You weren’t prepared to see him quite so soon, but you suppose now is better than putting it off until tomorrow. “This afternoon is perfect. You still like that diner on Beale Street, right?”

He hums an affirmative, and you smile, “Great, I’ll meet you there at 1, then.”

”I’ll see you then,” and the line clicks back to a dial tone.

You head back to the living room, entering to see your parents doing a wonderfully poor job of pretending as though they weren’t listening to your conversation. You roll your eyes.

”I assume you already heard, but Elvis and I are meeting for lunch at 1, just as friends, Mama,” you say pointedly, noting the beam on your mother’s face. “I’ll ask him about dinner then.”

Your father harrumphs, but mainly keeps silent, a firm frown on his face.

”That’s wonderful, honey,” your mother beams, “You’ve gotta get goin’ pretty soon then, huh?”

“Huh?” You glance over at the clock on the mantle and sure enough, it’s already 15 past noon and you still haven’t changed out of the outfit you wore for the 6-hour drive up to Memphis. You grab your suitcase and race to make yourself presentable, managing to change into a dress that seems nice enough for a lunch outing (but not too fancy), fix your windswept hair, and reapply your makeup in a cool 30 minutes before racing out the door.

Before you can make it out to the porch, though, your father stops you, calling your name as you’re about to step out the door. You turn, “Yes, Daddy?”

He has a solemn look on his face. “Just… be careful, darlin’. You know me, I hold grudges like no one else, and I admit I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you all those years ago. If you let him in, and he hurts you again somehow I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You step back into the room and envelop him in a hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not the same girl I was when I met him.” You add with a sad smile.

He squeezes your hand comfortingly, “I know you’ll be smart. If he does anything, you come right to me and I’ll sort him out, alright?” You nod and, satisfied, he kindly shoos you out the door with a soft “Go on, have fun.”

You pull up to the diner to find that Elvis is already there, if the deep purple Cadillac parked nearby is any indication.

He waves from a booth near the back as you enter, his bodyguards seated at a table nearby. You slide into the seat across from him, pushing down the butterflies that threaten to stir. It might’ve been a bad idea to choose the place you went on your first date, you realize belatedly, but too late now.

“How are you?” he asks with a casual smile.

“Pretty good,” you reply, “My parents have been updating me on all the Memphis gossip I’ve missed since I was away, very exciting stuff,” you say sarcastically. “Mama says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” he grins.

“Will do. Uh, how are you?” You say, trying to fall back into the rhythm of talking to him.

“I’m alright. There’s this big thing I’m gonna be workin’ on soon, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Oh, big thing?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“It’s a…” he pauses, looking around, “no one really knows about it yet, so you gotta promise not to tell anyone, alright?”

You nod, and he continues, leaning in to whisper, “You remember that special I told you about, the one that Steve and Bones are helpin’ me with? It’s gonna be a TV special for NBC. A Christmas show, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, it’ll have a couple of Christmas songs, but I really want it to be about finding myself again. Gettin’ back to the real Elvis.”

“Sounds exciting,” you reply, a genuine smile coming across your face at how excited he seems.

A starstruck waitress comes to take your order, and the conversation continues.

“So,” Elvis says, “how are you doin’ in Louisiana?”

“I actually really like it there,” you reply, smiling. “Annie’s great, obviously, and I found a job at a bookstore that I really love, things are goin’ pretty well. I do have the occasional grumpy customer, but that’s just how it is.” You finish with a shrug.

“Grumpy customer? Sounds like you’ve got some stories to tell,” he says, sounding genuinely interested, and you can’t help but launch into the story of a man who was sure that Stranger in a Strange Land was in the nonfiction section no matter how many times you tried to lead him over to science fiction.

You finally fall back into a rhythm of friendly conversation, trading stories for over an hour before you finally bring up what your mother had asked.

“Oh by the way,” you say, sipping your milkshake, “Mama wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Elvis nearly chokes on the fry he’s just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?”

“I told my parents that we were meeting up and she was adamant that I at the very least invite you to come over for dinner tomorrow— you know how she is about politeness—“ you explain, “but I promise, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I completely understand, I’d be more than happy to make up an excuse for you.”

“And refuse an invitation from Mrs. L/N? It’s like you want her to kill me,” he jokes. “I’d be more than happy to come,” he says, in a more sincere tone. “Besides, friends come over for dinner right?”

“Of course,” you say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, “and Mama’s very excited to see you, so be prepared for that.”

“I always am,” he replies with a smile.

You arrange for him to come over at 7 the next night, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly until the check arrives, which starts off a round of bickering between the two of you about who should pay.

“Please let me get this, I want this to be a start to making it up to you,” Elvis argues.

“I appreciate it but I’m perfectly capable of paying for lunch, thank you very much,” you retort, and this goes on for several minutes before the two of you eventually agree to split the check.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” Elvis says as you exit the diner, his bodyguards dutifully on alert as they follow you out.

“You, too.” You say. “I…” I didn’t realize just how much I missed you, is what you want to say, but instead, you go with “I had a good time.”

His face lights up as if those 5 little words were all he needed to brighten his day. He steps towards the Cadillac, throwing a friendly wave to you as he calls “See you tomorrow!”

You wave back, and you don’t realize how happy you are until your cheeks start to ache from smiling on the drive home.

The next day, your mother is practically frantic, bustling around the house making sure everything is perfect for when Elvis gets here.

“Mama, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever been here! And we’re just friends, please try to remember that.”

“Alright, alright, I know, honey. I just think it’s nice that you two are spending time together again, that’s—“

The doorbell rings, and your mother jumps into action, plucking microscopic bits of lint from your dress before hurrying to the door and opening it with a polite smile.

Elvis stands on your porch, bearing a polite smile and a bouquet of lilacs. “Hello, Mrs. L/N.”

“Hello, Elvis!” Your mother beams, “It’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought Y/N flowers, how sweet!” She looks pointedly at you.

Elvis lets out a nervous laugh as he steps into the house, “Actually, Mrs. L/N, these are for you. A birthday gift.” He holds out the bouquet to her with a shy smile, looking remarkably like the shy boy he had been back in ‘51 when you first became friends.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you dear. Wasn’t that kind of him, Walter?”

“Very kind,” your father grumbles in a tone that makes it seem as though Elvis had brought a pile of mud as a gift. He nods a greeting, “Hello, Elvis. California’s treatin’ you well, I hear.”

“Uh, yes, sir, it is. Thank you.” he replies.

When your father doesn’t respond, Elvis turns his attention to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you reply, resisting the urge to fuss with your dress.

The awkward silence that follows is broken as your mother ushers everyone to the dining room, arranged so she and your father are at the heads of the table while you and Elvis are sitting across from one another.

The meal begins, and the conversation that follows is strained but polite, with your mother eagerly asking questions about life in California and Hollywood and Elvis answering modestly then turning the conversation back to your family, remaining the picture of a Southern gentleman. The conversation remains polite apart from your father’s not-so-subtle grumbling about Elvis running off the California, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, he decides to bring up the rumors of Elvis’s womanizing.

“So, Elvis,” your father says casually, though his eyes remain calculating, “what’s all this I hear about you and… what’s that actress’s name, Ann-Margret? Or have you moved on to someone new by now?”

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure the mortification shows on your face as you hiss for your father to stop, please.

“Oh well sir, that’s really all just the tabloids tryin’ to get their stuff to sell, there’s no truth to that at all, I promise. Ann-Margret is a good friend of mine now, though.” Elvis answers politely, unfazed as your mother quietly scolds your father.

“Walter, quit it, you’re scarin’ the boy!”

“Well good, he should be scared after what he did to my little girl!”

“Dad!” you exclaim, mortified, “We talked about this! We’re friends now, you promised you’d be polite!”

“No, it’s alright, Y/N,” Elvis assures you, briefly breaking eye contact with your father to glance over at you, “He’s just lookin’ out for you like any father would, and I respect you for that, sir.”

Your father grunts a reply, and the conversation picks up again, still polite but even more strained than before.

Elvis remains as polite as ever, even offering to take care of the dishes — “Oh I can get those plates for ya, don’t you worry Mrs. L/N” — and despite your determination for a clean slate, your mind betrays you, reminding you of how shy and overly polite he was the first few times he was over for dinner, especially after the two of you first got together. Sure, he’s gotten a little more confident, which you’ll admit is kind of attractive, but— NO.

You firmly cut off that train of thought, no matter how badly that little voice in the back of your head (the one that practically melted at the sight of him at your door with a bouquet, reminiscent of your first date) wants to keep on track. Just friends, clean slate, you remind yourself.

After the dishes are done, your mother prepares coffee for everyone and the four of you head to the living room. At one point, Elvis gets up to get a refill, and your father follows him.

Your father approaches Elvis once it’s clear that neither you nor your mother will be getting up, and corners him.

“Now Elvis, I’m gonna try to be polite, because my daughter’s told me you two are tryin’ to be friends and I respect her wishes, but I don’t trust you after what you did to her. And if I get even a hint that you’re playin’ with her feelings, well… I’m afraid that won’t end well for ya, son.”

Elvis nods quickly, “Sir I promise you, I have no intentions of playing with your daughter’s feelings. She’s very dear to me, and I swear I’d do anything to make sure she’s happy.” He says, conviction clear in his eyes.

Your father eyes Elvis for several long moments and, apparently satisfied, returns to the living room with more coffee for you and your mother.

Elvis takes a breath to compose himself — he’s forgotten how scary your father could be when he wanted to — and exits the kitchen, re-entering as you’re laughing at some comment your mother made.

You turn as he enters with a wide smile on your face, and he’s suddenly slammed back to a time where you looked at him like that every time he entered a room— when you looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars just for you.

Fighting the urge to rush over and kiss you senseless — that’s not something a friend would do, he reminds himself — he moves to sit in the armchair across from you, turning his attention to whatever neighbor your mother is gossiping about tonight.

The night eventually winds to a close and Elvis thanks your parents profusely for “a wonderful meal and even better company.”

Your mother waves off the compliment modestly, “Oh it was nothin’ darling. We’ll be glad to have you back anytime. Y/N, why don’t you walk our guest out while we take care of these last few things?” she says, gesturing to the coffee mugs still sitting out.

Elvis gives one last wave to your parents, wishing them well, before stepping out to the porch with you.

“Well, my parents loved you,” you tease as the two of you make your way to the pink Cadillac looking more than slightly out of place in your modest gravel driveway.

He lets out a shy laugh, “They haven’t changed a bit, that’s for sure. Your daddy’s still as protective as ever.” His tone softens as he continues, “It was nice seein’ them again. ‘Specially your mama. She’s always been better to me than I deserve.”

Acting on impulse, you lean over and squeeze his hand as you remember his own mama isn’t waiting for him at home anymore. “You’re welcome over anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a near whisper. Your hand stays clasped with his, the warmth of him tempting you closer, and his gaze drifts slowly down to your lips before the two of you snap back to yourselves and create a respectable two feet of distance between you.

“Uh, anyway,” you attempt to continue the conversation, refusing to acknowledge that moment of… whatever that was, “Are you gonna be here for a while longer?”

He shakes his head, “I’m actually gonna be leaving for California again tomorrow.” he says almost apologetically, adding with a nod to the house, “But I’ll still be able to call ya for a bit, right?”

A frown crosses your face as you remember: “I’m actually headin’ back to Louisiana tomorrow. But,” you brighten, “I can give you my number for down there if you want?”

“I’d love that,” Elvis smiles.

You rummage around in your pockets for anything you can scribble on, producing some long-forgotten shopping list and a small pen. You scrawl your phone number down and hand it to him, determinedly not noticing the sparks you feel as your fingers brush.

“I’ll call ya every night,” he says as he stuffs it in his pocket, “I’ll need ya to keep me updated on all the Louisiana gossip, hm?”

A sad smile crosses your face at the memory of the last time he’d made a promise like that. Despite all your talk of a clean slate, you can’t help but remind him, “Let’s not make promises you can’t keep, Elvis.”

You give him one last wave, wish him goodnight, and walk back inside, his pleas of “What? No, Y/N, this ain’t gonna be like that!” falling on deaf ears.

You put on a brave face for your parents the next day, joking about what a coincidence it was that both you and Elvis happened to be leaving town on the same day, but behind closed doors, you’re unable to block the memories of the last time he had promised he’d call you every night: when he went along with the Colonel on Hank Snow’s tour.

1955

“I’ll be back in time for prom, darlin’, I promise,” Elvis reassures you over the phone. “I’ll bring you a corsage, we’ll have a great time.”

“Okay,” you reply, “I’m sorry, I know I must sound silly, but I’m just really lookin’ forward to going with you.”

“That’s not silly,” he assures you with a soft laugh, “I’m lookin’ forward to it, t—“ he cuts off, and you can barely make out what sounds like a knock on the door on his end of the line. “That’ll be Scotty again, no doubt.” he groans good-naturedly. There’s some shuffling as he makes his way over, yanking the door open with a “Scotty, how many times do I have to tell ya—“

“Elvis?” you say, concerned at how he cuts off mid-sentence, “Is everything alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, after which he stammers out a response.

“I, uh… I gotta go, I’ll call ya back, darlin’, alright?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before hanging up, but in the split second before it goes to a dial tone you can just make out a woman’s sultry voice over the receiver.

1968 - Present Day

He had still called after that, but not as frequently; certainly not every day like he promised. And while you forgave what happened on tour, you had never quite forgotten what him being away for a stretch of time could mean.

Still. Clean slate. Maybe this time could be different, you reasoned, though you were barely convincing yourself at this point.

You head back to Louisiana, promising your parents you’ll visit again soon and that you’ll give them a call as soon as you get home. You stumble through the door of your little house, exhausted after the 6-hour drive. Annie rushes over to hug you.

“Hey honey! Good to have ya home,” she grins, taking your suitcase from you, “I’ve got lunch for ya, you go sit down. I’ll put this in your room. And then I wanna hear all about how that li’l meetup went,” she adds with a wink, gently shoving you towards the kitchen while she heads down the hall.

You smile as you enter the kitchen to see a little card with the words “Welcome Home” in Annie’s signature scrawl next to a plate on the counter. You take a bite of the sandwich waiting for you — grilled cheese, Annie’s specialty — and finally allow yourself to relax. At that moment, Annie slides in with a mischievous grin, plopping herself down on the stool next to you.

“So…” she leads, a sparkle in her eye. “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, purposefully misinterpreting her question, “We took Mama out for dinner and I made her a cake—”

Annie cuts you off with a playful swat to your arm, “Not that! Elvis,” she says, dragging out the ‘s’ longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, “Fine! It was… fine. We met up for lunch at this old diner we used to go to, we talked… Mama had me invite him over for dinner, and he brought flowers for her” you say pointedly, noticing the gleam in her eyes. “It went well, all things considered. Daddy did have some things to say, he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for what he did, but Elvis was a real gentleman the whole time. He actually went back to California today, filming somethin’ for TV, but he said he wants to keep in touch.”

“That’s great, honey!” Annie squeals, “I’m glad y’all are doin’ well.”

You give a weak smile in return. “Yeah, he said he’s gonna call every day, but…”

“Oh…” Annie’s eyes soften in understanding, recalling what you had told her about your relationship before. “Y/N, I know it might be scary, but what if it’s different this time? What if he actually keeps his promise? He’s said he wants to work on trust with you again, right? This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove to you that he’s worth trusting. And if he doesn’t,” she adds in a lighter tone, “I’ll fly out to California and sock him right in his pretty face myself.”

“I know you will,” you laugh, “but you’re right, I’ll—“

You’re cut off as the phone rings, and you lock eyes with Annie. It can’t be him already, can it? No, it’s probably your parents calling to make sure you made it home safely, you reason as you move to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N,” the heavy drawl surprises you, and you nearly miss what Elvis says next, “I’m glad I caught you, I was callin’ a bit ago and got quite a tellin’ off from Annie sayin’ that you weren’t there yet.”

At that you turn to glare at Annie, who only gives you a smug, mischievous smirk in return.

“Yeah, I just got in maybe twenty minutes ago,” you reply, the shock slowly fading into a kind of warmth as his voice washes over you.

“How was the drive?”

“Long,” you say with a laugh, “I’m glad to be home now. How’s California?”

“‘S alright,” he replies, “I just got back from finalizing some stuff with Steve for filming tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” you recall your conversation from a few days ago, “The Christmas special, right? Or,” you correct yourself, “the not-entirely-Christmas special.”

“Exactly,” he laughs, “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”

“That’s good,” you smile, “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “But anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Well, Annie had one of her famous grilled cheeses waiting for me when I got here so I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Tomorrow’s an inventory day at work, though, not nearly as exciting as filming a special for NBC.”

He sucks in a breath in sympathy, “I remember you never liked those days. Good luck with that,” he says, “and I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make sure to tell you all about the boring parts of filming so ya don’t get too jealous, how ‘bout that?” he teases

“Sounds perfect,” you laugh.

You don’t even notice the time flying by as the conversation continues, the two of you talking about everything and nothing, and you fall into a rhythm of talking for hours every night. Slowly, the nagging fear you feel that today’s the day he won’t call starts to fade, and you look forward to your nightly chats where you fill him in on any interesting customers and he tells you about the goofs he made that day during filming.

“I’m not kiddin’, I legitimately forgot the words!” he laughs.

Your only reply is to laugh even harder at the image of him surrounded by cameras forgetting the words to Heartbreak Hotel.

“Alright, come on, it ain’t that funny,” he says in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, I promise it is,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, “I might need you to send me a copy or whatever of these goofs, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange that for ya…” he replies, his voice trailing off as he seemingly turns away from the receiver for some reason.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just someone at the door,” he assures you, “Gimme one second.”

There’s some shuffling as he makes his way to the door, and your surprise at the thought of him carrying the phone with him across the room turns into a sinking feeling in your stomach as you hear the squeak of a door open and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice. Your heart sinks as the memory of that day on his tour starts to play again in your mind, a cacophony of not again, I knew this would happen, I shouldn’t have trusted him filling your ears.

“-N? Y/N, you there?” You slowly blink back to reality as Elvis calls your name over the receiver, “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply hesitantly as he dives into an explanation about some crazy fan sneaking past security to his room. He pauses, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice.

“Y/N… you can talk to me, you know that, right? What’s wrong?” he says softly, and he sounds so genuine you want to cry.

“It’s… it’s silly…” you reply, embarrassed at the thought of telling him that that memory from all this years ago still haunts you.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to know if I can help,” he replies patiently.

You sigh, and launch into an explanation of that night back in ‘55. “You just hung up on me, and the last thing I heard was some woman’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much that hurt me until I started worrying about who you were with whenever you were gone for a long time.” You explain softly, nervously fiddling with the phone cord.

“So just now, when you heard that girl at my door…” he sighs, realization dawning on him, “that brought all that back, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, and the sincerity of his words does bring tears to your eyes this time.

“I’m alright, I promise,” you reassure him, “surprised you turned her down,” you tease, wanting to move on.

“I don’t do that kinda thing anymore,” he laughs, picking up on your attempt to move to another topic, “besides, why would I stop to talk to some stranger who thinks they know everything about me when I could talk to you?”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you hope he can’t tell how much you’re blushing over the phone, “Aw, you’re sweet.”

There’s a moment of silence; not an awkward one, but comfortable, like the two of you don’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just on the phone. The moment is cut short, however, as Elvis speaks up again.

“I was thinkin’— and you’re free to say no, of course— well, Steve’s organizing this screening of the special before it airs. Right now it’s just Steve, Bones, Dad, Jerry, and me, but I’d like you to be there, too. Maybe get an opinion from someone who’s not family or paid to be nice to me.” He jokes.

“I’d love to,” you reply, “I’ll have to see if I can get off work, but if I can I’ll absolutely be there. And don’t worry, I’ll be brutally honest about the whole thing,” you add teasingly.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He laughs, “I’ll call once Steve has the day arranged and hopefully you can make it.”

The date Steve apparently figures out is November 19, two weeks before the special is actually set to air. Elvis relays to you that he’s arranged to do the screening at Graceland, and luckily you manage to convince your boss to give you both that day and the following day off for the long drive. Your parents are delighted to see you, of course, and you just barely miss the knowing smile on your mother’s face as you gush about how well your friendship with Elvis is going. Your father has warmed up to him the slightest bit, it seems, since your visit back in June, if the fact that he doesn’t scowl at every mention of Elvis’s name is any indication.

You take a deep breath as you pull up to Graceland. You force down the surfacing memories from the last time you were here, when Elvis officially put his career before you. Clean. Slate. you forcefully remind yourself as you step up to the front door.

The door swings open barely half a second after you ring the doorbell, and you find Elvis standing there, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey.”

There’s a moment where the two of you simply stare at each other before he blinks, as if coming back to his senses, and steps aside to let you in. “Come on in, lemme introduce you to everybody,” he says, leading you to a room with not one, not two, but three TVs mounted into the wall, as one of his household staff comes to take your coat. 4 spaces on the immense couch taking up most of the space in the room are taken, one by his father and three others by people you don’t recognize. “This is Jerry, my manager,” Elvis says, gesturing to a man in a brown suit who looked to be in his late-20s with shaggy blondish hair, “and Steve and Bones, the masterminds behind this whole thing,” he introduces the two men sitting beside Jerry with a smile, one with neat brown hair and an ascot tied around his neck, the other with dark curly hair and round glasses. The three men give you various waves and smiles.

“And of course you know my dad,” Elvis finishes, gesturing to where he’s sitting next to Bones.

“Of course, hi Mr. Presley,” you say with a smile, coming over to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Y/N, how’ve ya been?” he asks as you take a seat next to him.

You’re hyperaware of Elvis sitting next to you as you make small talk with everyone, carefully leaning so that there’s a bit of distance between the two of you. As the screening begins, your attention is torn between the performance onscreen and real-life Elvis making jokes in your ear about “this is actually the take right after that goof I told you about—“ Your senses are full of him: the scent of his cologne, his arm brushing against yours, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he whispers to you, and it takes more and more of your energy to actually focus on the TVs in front of you.

About half an hour into the special, you excuse yourself and wander out to the hall, needing a break from the proximity. You don’t realize Elvis followed you out until his hand gently wraps around your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he explains, releasing you.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “just… needed a break.”

“It was that bad?” he jokes, “Damn, I’ll have to let Steve know.”

You shake your head, “No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” You hesitate, unsure if you should say what the real reason is. Your friendship is going so well, you’re not sure how he’ll react if you admit that your feelings for him were back in full force, that in truth they never really left.

“What is it?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I never really stopped being in love with you, if I’m being honest. But being with you these past few months, being your friend again… I’ve loved it. I’ve loved talking with you on the phone for hours about everything and nothing, seeing you talk with my parents like nothing’s changed, and I… I wanna try again. For real this time.” You bite your lip, nervously gauging his reaction.

“You— you mean that?” Elvis asks softly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you reply, “I mean it.”

“Y/N, I’d… I’d love that. I promise,” he says sincerely, “I’ll do it right this time. I’ll be the man you deserve.” He steps closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. “Can I—“ his eyes flick from looking into yours down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.” he breathes.

You nod your consent, and he swoops down to capture your lips with his, one hand cupping your cheek while the other grips your waist, pulling you close. Your arms wind around his neck up into his hair, mussing the carefully styled locks as you savor the feeling of his lips velvet-soft against yours. He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the wall, his lips never leaving yours as his body presses against you. Eventually the need for air gets the better of you, and he reluctantly pulls away, keeping his forehead and nose pressed to yours as if he can’t bear to be any farther away. His blue eyes lock with yours as you catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours, and the amount of love clear in those 5 little words brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, a smile spreading across your face.

The two of you stay like that for a while, pressed against the wall of the hallway, before Elvis mumbles “As much as I’d love to just stay here with you forever, we should probably get back before they notice we’re gone.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh sheepishly as you remember the reason you were there in the first place.

The two of you slip back into the TV room, your absence seemingly having gone unnoticed, and assume the spaces you had occupied before you left, with one small difference: your hand is intertwined with his throughout the rest of the screening.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis baz luhrmann #my writing #ickkspty #i can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you

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glorious-sunset · 1 month

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Reflections on Ep. 4 of LBFAD on rewatch

Arbiter Hall: In Xiao Lanhua’s (XLH) dream, DongFang QingCang (DFQC) is kneeling and begging for mercy from Changheng (CH) :D What a vivid imagination she has! When she enacts the Battle of Two Tribes for her plant spirit friends later this episode she also claims that DFQC was “beaten black and blue, kneeling and begging for mercy!” Hearing this was bad enough for the real DFQC. How lucky that he can’t see her dreams! :D

In her dream, CH blames her for not reporting the presence of a criminal at Arbiter Hall and is about to execute her as well. She wakes up trembling with so much fear that even DFQC wakes up trembling and gasping for breath! She could easily send a message from Arbiter Hall reporting him but despite her great fear, would never consider this an option after he saved her life in Haishi. She now considers that both CH and DFQC have saved her life and is loyal to them both. (Actually, Siming made up the story about CH persuading her to keep XLH. Siming is fully aware of XLH’s real identity and would never have considered disposing of her). XLH does gently encourage DFQC a few times to turn himself in, but does this for his own interest – she fears that if he is caught, he will be executed, but if he turns himself in, he will only need to complete his sentence then he can live freely. She has already forgiven him for strangling her during their first encounter, reasoning that his imprisonment made him aggressive. He came for her and saved her from a definite demise after that, didn’t he? If not for him, she wouldn’t even be here right now.

Arbiter Hall, Day 2: At 5am the next morning, DFQC enters her room to demand that she repair the destiny leaf, now. He regards her sleeping form and face for a few moments. Her plump cheeks are rather cute. He pokes one of them to wake her, but when she complains, squeezes them both, protesting “I don’t have time to waste with you! Now you…” but he is forced to teleport into the greenhouse before he can finish his sentence. “What black magic has Xiao Hua Yao cast on me now?!” D:

He is forced to spend the next several hours counting 8,452 flowers, although he pretends to Shangque (SQ) that he chose to do this to improve his vitality as a warlord :D Any lesser being would be reduced to tears at this dizzying torture. SQ, go get the Xilan scroll! Hurry!

They examine the Xilan scroll. Disaster!! He has to obey her every command, and there is yet no clue on how to escape this nightmare.

At 9am, XLH wakes to find him bitterly proclaiming that there are 8,452 flowers in her greenhouse. After controlling him like a fool, she has the audacity to laugh at him and call him naïve for following her casual suggestion!! But when he explains that every word she says is very important to him, she is very touched. In fact, he is very attentive to every word she says. Both their stomachs are now rumbling (DFQC’s last meal was 30,000 years ago!) so she invites him to stay for breakfast.

DFQC is in the process of truthfully (and proudly) answering her question about his identity, but soon receives several hints that she might not be willing to repair the destiny leaf for him if she knew who he really was. He does not directly lie, but lets her believe that he is DongFang Qiang after she sneezes and mishears his name. “Don’t you know about the Battle of Two Tribes?” (Excuse me, he was the feature of that battle!) “Da Qiang! DongFang QingCang caused a lot of trouble for the whole of Shuiyuntian!”

XLH has now upgraded her nickname for him from the insulting “little celestial criminal” to “Big Qiang” (Da Qiang), the transition from little to big reflecting the growth of her regard for him. She affectionately calls him Da Qiang from now on. His nickname for her, “Xiao Hua Yao”, little flower demon, is his appraising way of calling her a wicked little flower, or a flower with thorns.

XLH feels bad for his misfortune in sharing the surname of the infamous deceased DongFang QingCang, so hastens to cheer him up. She tells him he is lucky to have had parents, that he is a much better person than DongFang QingCang, and looks much more handsome than him! It’s no news to viewers that he is surpassingly attractive, but he scoffs at the idea that she is comparing him to himself :D Oh dear! He didn’t realise that she was actually comparing him to a green goblin with lice and bad breath :D And she made a valid point that he hasn’t bathed in thousands of years :(

When XLH gently suggests that he turn himself in, he stares hungrily at her while describing how DFQC likes to eat fair and chubby fairies with soft skin and tender flesh (he is referring to how he finds her plump cheeks and creamy skin appealing). He has thus reciprocally expressed his attraction to her in a very twisted way as he is not even consciously aware of it yet :D

DFQC has now gone from “I have no time to waste with you” to completely forgetting his mission! What other lies have Shuiyuntian been spreading about him?! He finds several books around Arbiter Hall and wastes no time in perusing them. He stays close to XLH and rarely lets her out of his sight. Inspired by their breakfast conversation, she also reads, about the Battle of Two Tribes and other historical battles. They chat and she learns that his parents have passed and he has no family in Shuiyuntian (hence why she later refers to him as a homeless dog! :D ). His company has XLH in exceptionally high spirits all day. Although he is grouchy, he is quite respectful and very attentive. She feels comfortable around him and leans into him while showing him how to make festival pastries.

DFQC does not trust anyone, but as XLH’s feelings are projected onto him through the one-heart curse, he discovers that she reads like an open book, completely guileless and innocent. He now feels he can somewhat trust her. Her insulting descriptions of DongFang QingCang continuously make his blood boil! But when he glares at her in anger and she flinches in shock, he regrets his actions and cannot blame her for the indoctrination she received from Shiyuntian.

DFQC asks XLH about her torn portrait of CH. She gasps, suddenly realising that for the first time she can remember, she hadn’t thought about CH even once that day (despite her dream about him last night!). She excuses herself and runs off, feeling she has betrayed CH somehow by enjoying the company of another man.

DFQC complains to SQ that he wasted the whole day with Xiao Hua Yao (you decided to do that DFQC! :D ), that repairing the destiny leaf is again postponed, that he needs the heart-hiding hairpin to protect himself from XLH’s charms, oh, and draw me a bath SQ, I am very upset at being described as an unhygienic troll. DFQC fills his bath with enticing fragrances so he can smell appealing. Ha, see if that damned little flower demon can compare him to a green-skinned goblin now!

Meanwhile, XLH speaks to Cloud Whale, whose soothing calls are frequently heard even at remote Arbiter Hall (they are heard four or more times during this episode). She has never seen Cloud Whale but has read about him and likes to imagine that he can hear her when she speaks to him. Since her master left hundreds of years ago, this unseen whale has been the only one she can talk to at night when loneliness hits her especially hard. She tells him, “although Da Qiang always loses his temper, isn’t that bright and refers to himself as benzuo, I think he is not that bad. He probably did not make a big mistake.” She smiles happily at the thought that he can now live freely.

Unpacking this appraisal, he loses his temper – this is the worst thing he does from this point, but always for good reason. He is not actually evil. He’s not that bright (?!) – he’s dense about emotions and understanding what might happen if they share a bed (both not his fault), but is otherwise exceptionally intelligent (his flawless recreation of Arbiter Hall alone is a work of genius). Refers to himself as benzuo (this seat of power, or this position). This is a bitter address of himself acknowledging that he does not belong to himself, but to his responsibilities. Probably did not make a big mistake – XLH never asks him why he was imprisoned. To her, it does not matter, as it is in the past, and she is appraising him based on how he currently presents himself.

Cloud Whale is very important to XLH, thus DFQC making it possible for her to finally see him in ep. 5 is of huge significance!

Arbiter Hall, Day 3: The next day, XLH faints while trying to repair Lady Chidi’s destiny leaf, and DFQC’s genuine concern for her is written all over his face. He may have claimed twice in this episode that he would “kill that damned Xiao Hua Yao” once he breaks her curse, but these are empty words. It’s nice that DFQC relies on SQ’s Chinese medicine skills, it makes them a great team and humanises him. Sweat beads on SQ’s forehead as he predicts that it may take three, five or a hundred years to fully cure XLH (DFQC, being the overachiever that he is, fully cures her in a week though! :D )

Arbiter Hall, Day 4: XLH sleeps through to the next morning and finds it strange that Da Qiang didn’t come to wake her (he is off collecting ten times the amount of dew he needs to :D ). She gets more and more worried as she is unable to find him. While she searches, CH arrives with the Immortal Pill he has poured his heart and soul into, and we see him smile happily! His smile is so sweet and rare, but his brother is always on standby to wipe it off his face anytime he dares feel even a glimmer of happiness. He is summoned to Yunzhong Water Pavillion without even a glimpse of his secret crush.

Here is a link to my episode 5 review (contains spoilers). All of my LBFAD articles and episode reviews can be viewed with the tag #lbfad reflections (hyperlinked) and the table of contents to these is here.

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slytherinshua · 11 months

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IM SO EXCITED YOU DONT EVEN KNOW!!! AGAIN, CONGRATS!! ITS ALL WELL DESERVED AND IM HAPPY I CAN BE HERE AND WAYXH U GROW BC!!! IR TALENT SHOULD BE APPRECIATED!!

now to the req…. hehehe….. let me tell u how excited i was when i saw you’re taking k-dramas KMG!!!! so obv…

YUL FROM AOS!!! yul my beloved he’s such a cutie patootie– anyways… fluff: 39, 53 and other: 30!! idk i just feel like it suits him!!

MASTER YUL

genre. fluff. master x pupil trope. warnings. kissing. spoilers for aos ig? its not rly set in any particular episode but park jin is still the leader of songrim so i'd say loosely around ep 10-12. pairing. seo yul x fem!reader. wc. 2.1k. a/n. ahhhh axe tysm for requesting smth for yul 😭 our baby 🫶 i kinda got carried away with this and then didn't proof read it so idk how good it is lol but i had fun writing it!!

“Give me one chance. I can hold my own in a fight. I will do anything it takes.” You pleaded, practically begging at the steps of the training centre in Jeongjingak.

People from low class families, and especially women were never accepted into Songrim Jeongjingak. Everyone in Daeho knew that, and you’d have to be a fool or stupidly brave to try to say otherwise. You were probably both given that you were standing by the doors of the training centre at the moment, your slightly scuffed up clothing and long hair giving you no favours.

You wanted to blame your father for your current situation, but since he was currently cold in his grave and you respected him too much, you didn’t let your thoughts wander in that direction.

He had always insisted that you needed to know how to defend yourself, starting at a young age. After years of burdensome training, you started to finally feel the rush and satisfaction of a fight. After years of complaining about the lessons your father taught you, you finally wanted to learn spells. You wanted to use the energy inside your body. You desperately wanted to feel like you were useful, powerful, capable.

You excelled in all the ladylike areas, from sewing and needlework, to gardening, to singing and dancing thanks to your mother. But they were all just so boring. Your habit of spending your entire day in the public library reading all the books on spells started when you were 14. It only grew over the next few years until your father knew you wanted more than he could offer you.

He wasn’t a highly skilled mage, and in his lifetime had not needed to progress beyond Jipsu, the ability to gather the energy of water. You had mastered that years ago and had progressed to tackling the skill of Ryusu. You tried hard to master it on your own once your father taught you all his lessons, but it was a near impossible task.

You needed a master, but none would accept you as their pupil. After almost every master in the country turned you down for various reasons, you turned to your last option - Songrim.

Face to face with Lord Park, one of the most renowned mages in the capital, and the current leader of Songrim, you held your head high as he refused your pleas.

One look at you had him and the other mages glaring you down and shaking their heads with disapproval. They wouldn’t even give you a chance. Dozens of remarks were thrown at you. You let them pass through one ear and out the other, not letting these men get the chance to see you turn away defeated. You were already risking your pride begging them, but you wouldn’t leave without being able to showcase your skills first.

“You really think our masters would waste their time and energy on a girl like you with no potential?” One rude young mage sneered, and you bowed your head further, finally feeling your blood boil with rage. You gripped your sword tight enough that your knuckles turned white, resisting the urge to unsheathe it and hold it to his neck.

I have more potential in my left pinky finger than you or any of your ancestors have had for the past 300 years, you whispered under your breath in spite, making sure it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear it.

You were unaware of a party of mages returning to the training centre at the moment, and the one leading the way seemed to have picked up on what you were mumbling. He stood next to you, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at you.

“Cha Beom is an asshole, but I wouldn’t waste your words on him.”

You glanced to the side, surprised that someone was taking your side. As you looked him over, you were sure you had seen him somewhere before. His face was fair and handsome and his clothes were neat. He looked pristine and well-mannered, but more than anything, he looked like he stuck to the rules. He was probably the last person you pictured sticking up for someone like you. You also thought that the word ‘asshole’ didn’t fit coming from his mouth.

“I’ll spar with her. If she can beat me, let her train here. If she can’t, then I’ll train her myself.” The mage said confidently. Your eyebrows furrowed at his brazenness. Wouldn’t he get reprimanded for speaking such an outlandish thing?

But he didn’t.

You watched as Lord Park sighed and waved the young mage off. An older man, Master Heo, started to protest, but upon Lord Park’s clear disinterest in continuing the situation, he was silenced.

“Do what you wish with her, Yul. Train her yourself.”

The mage smiled at Lord Park and bowed before turning to you, “So, Y/n. Let’s see those skills, hm?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things.” He remarked.

“Do you really have what it takes to train me? Aren’t you just another mage at Jeongjingak?” You questioned with uncertainty, earning a scoff from the young mage.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” He asked in disbelief.

“Should I?”

He nodded, “Let me explain it. I have always been the top student at Jeongjingak; I mastered all the books, reached Chisu in a short amount of time, and people always come to me when they need help. That is me, Seo Yul.”

“Ah… I see. You’re smarter than you look, then.” You concluded, walking forward.

Yul paused, eyes blinking and head turned to the side in thought, “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?” He called out to you, making you turn around again.

“It was meant to be neither, though I suppose you are… decent.”

“Decent?”

“Mm… Your looks aren’t exactly my style, but even I can’t deny that you’re not too bad.” You continued, smile widening every time his face further scrunched in confusion. Teasing him was more fun than you thought.

“Is this how you’re going to treat your new master?”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“You’re just very… blunt.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Master Yul.”

Yul’s eyes widened slightly, the formality of the new name was far from the regular “Young Master Seo” he was used to hearing. Hearing it from you brought him some strange satisfaction and warmth. It was strange.

Yul was a hard master to please. More often than not, you felt like he was disappointed with you because he always kept a straight face. He always forced himself to hide his affection for you for fear that it would distract from your training, which frustrated you. You clinged onto the moments where he let his true emotions shine through just a bit. The lingering stares and little smiles— from those small moments you were sure that he was actually a warm person, and not the cold, strict master like he appeared on the outside. You just needed to find a way for him to break the facade.

Because he was so skilled himself, impressing him only happened once in a blue moon. You tried your best, and improved quickly under his guidance. He would train you rigorously every weekday after his own training at Jeongjingak. Usually you would be by the river, using the rough and difficult terrain to your advantage. It definitely helped with your dexterity and swiftness. After just a few months, you had mastered Ryusu.

The bright smile on Yul’s face when you were finally able to gain energy from the water was one you would never forget. He even laughed a bit, and you swore you were happier about making him happy than progressing in your training.

Your love for teasing Yul never went away. His expressions were just too adorable to make you want to stop, and you felt that they gave him a small break from the pressure he was under as the eldest son of the Seo family.

You were thinking about all your little habits you had picked up around Yul, when it hit you. How you felt that warm fluttering feeling in your stomach when you saw him smile, and the heat crept onto your cheeks whenever he had to touch your hand to show you a proper placement for a spell. That wasn’t a normal master-pupil thing. You liked him.

As you packed up your supplies one late night by the river, his perfect face kept flashing in your mind. His cute smile curving on his lips like when you mastered another spell, the subtle curve of his nose, the plush berry colour of his lips, the softness in his eyes. He was truly one of the most pure humans you had ever come into contact with, and your adoration for him only grew everyday.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You scolded yourself under your breath. Now that you were aware that you were in love with him, how much harder would it be to go to training with him? You were sure you were going to be flustered and tripping your own two feet the next time you tried to work on your spells with him.

“Who are you calling stupid?”

You flinched and turned around, seeing Yul sitting in one of the trees by the bank, watching you pack up intently.

“Myself. Why’re you still here?” You asked, cheeks heating up when he jumped down from the tree smoothly and crouched down next to you to help you pack the rest of your things.

“Because my pupil is still here even though the sun has already set long ago.” He said, a smile playing on his lips but he suppressed it like always. His hand moved to pick up the bottle of medicinal herbs you had to put in your bag and his fingers brushed against yours, your cheeks heating up even more at the action. In a panic, you realised the moon shining down on you was just enough light for Yul to pick up on the colour of your cheeks. You silently cursed him for noticing every little detail about you.

“Wait… Are you blushing?” He asked with uncertainty. You backed away slightly, whispering a hushed “no” and hoping he would drop the subject. You weren’t used to this side of him, and your nerves grew every time his face inched closer to yours. How was he always so calm and collected while able to make you so flustered?

“Let me check your breathing technique, Y/n.” Yul said quietly, hand gently resting on your stomach. You looked up at him with wide eyes, breathing in short fast puffs. You saw his lips stretch into what looked like a smirk. “Your breathing is completely off. What did I tell you about practising it even when you’re not training?”

“I… I’m sorry. I must’ve… forgotten.” You mumbled, mind spinning as you wondered why his hand was still touching you.

“Do I need to remind you more often?” He asked, head tilting as he looked at you fondly. You stayed silent, wide eyes staring into his like he had put you in a trance— as if you were incapable of looking away.

Your eyes moved faster than your brain as they flickered down to his lips for a split second. If your brain was able to make a sound, it would be screaming at you right now. Why the heck would you do that? There was no way Yul wouldn’t catch on to it. You’re screwed.

You couldn’t think or even breathe when you saw him leaning in, eyes blinking closed until his soft lips finally met yours. Your cheeks burned as you kissed him back. You couldn’t think about anything but him - the feeling of having him so close, your hearts racing in sync, him pulling you closer by the waist. Your hands moved on their own, gently carding through the soft hairs at the back of his head until he eventually pulled out, still holding you close.

You caught your breath and calmed your racing heart, whispering a soft, “...Did you just kiss me?”

“Yep.” He smiled. You wondered when he got the power to steal all your confidence.

“Can you… do it again?”

“I didn’t know you liked it that much.” He smiled, eyes glimmering, moonshine reflecting off his face, "I guess my looks are a bit more than just decent?" He teased as he leaned in once more, pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

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skyfallslayer · 9 months

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The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 10

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)

Story Summary: Relieved that his daughter is finally home safe, Matt makes two life changing moves. First is to stop and help Frank Castle in any way he can; The second one? Finally asked Karen out on a date. A date that might have to get cut short when someone from his past shows up unexpectedly (Set During 2x04 & 2x05, “Penny & Dime” & “Kinbaku”).

Date: 7/26/23

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 14,016 (Ya'll deserve it)

Warning: Possible OOC (?); Karedevil; The Murdocks Are Stubborn People; Angst; Heavy Language; Allusions To Mental Illness; Bullet Wounds/Recovery; Child Abuse; Blood and Gore; Violence; Heavy Injuries; Talks of Death/Murder; The Murdocks Could Use All The Hugs In The World; A Brief Near Death Experience; Matt Being Overprotective (He Needs A Warning, I think?); Past Toxic Relationship(s); Elektra Could Use A Warning Herself; Suggestive 18+ Themes; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

- Let me know if I missed anything, please.

A/N: First off, a small apology. Like I was replying to a DM a few days ago, I don't know what really happened. Despite the fact that my laptop took a dive, I ended up on a unexpected hiatus. Which... I think was a good thing for me. It gave me enough time to take a step back after slowly becoming burnt out from writing. But I'm back! I promise I won't go MIA without saying something next time. So, sorry again! But the story you all have been waiting for has returned!

Secondly, Don't let this story fool you, I don't necessarily hate Elektra. I just don't like the fact how toxic she was for Matt and how she tried to change him after finally getting in a good place in his life. So I'm going to change Canon a little bit (Which shouldn't be a surprise since I've been doing that already). Other than that, Enjoy, my loves!

- Fifteen Years Ago -

His only comfort was the pittering of the rain against his window. He sat on his bed, feet touching the ground, his phone in hand; His finger hovered over the voice command. His mind racing over and over and over with the question of–

Should I?

He wants answers. Sure they didn’t leave on a good note, but shouldn’t she give him some kind of explanation? It’s only been two weeks, surely she hasn’t left the area already…

Right? But even a part of him knew she probably was long gone just like the cops said, yet he still held on to some kind of hope that’ll he be able just to talk to her at least once. To just ask the “simple” question of… ‘Why?’.

He rubs his face with an open hand, fingers massaging the dark circles under his blind pupils. He didn't need sight to know they were getting worse and worse everyday.

He sighs.

Loudly.

Heavily.

He let every ounce of emotion into that one.

He didn’t care.

I’m really drowning right now. And indeed he was, however–

His thoughts immediately fade away when he hears the familiar cries he’s gotten used to. Out of instinct, Matt lets his phone slip away as he slides down to the end of his bed, shifting his body down to carefully take his baby in his arms from the bassinet. He remembers how he was taught to hold his child properly, a consistent drill from the nurses and Mrs. Nelson badgered him with (mostly from Mrs. Nelson).

He shushes quietly in the attempts to calm her. “Hey, hey. Shush. You’re okay, you’re okay.” He whispers, exhaustion in his undertone.

God, he was so tired.

He whispers some more, his daughter starting to calm down into tiny whimpers. His face quirked into something bittersweet.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wanting to stroke those little teardrops away, but he was too afraid to free one of his hands out of concern of dropping her. “I have those too sometimes.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I guess those can be hereditary.”

He still has those kinds of dreams. Memories from his childhood. All the dark shit he’s been through, he’ll see them every once a while. His father’s dying day, His time in the orphanage, His roller coaster of past relationships. It’ll take turns haunting him. Taunting him. Egging him to give back in, crawl back into that dark hole. Jump off the edge.

It eats him alive every single time.

Matt’s lip twitched. “Sorry. That was a bad joke.” He admits, trying to look on the positive side. “Although, your Uncle probably would have come up with something more corny than that. Right?”

He could feel her tiny gaze, something he was still trying to picture what it meant. Happiness? Sadness? Confusion?

He sighs. “I wish I could see you. It’ll make this easier.” So much easier. “It’ll make your life easier. I’m not going to be the… typical parent of the group. So, I’m… sorry.”

How the hell was he going to do this? How was he supposed to help her through life? Through her first steps? Through school? Through any hardships she faces? How was he supposed to help when he feels like he’s drowning?

How am I supposed to be a father when I don’t know what I’m doing? How am I supposed to be a father when I can’t even see your face?

He heard the front door open and close. The person entering was setting their bag aside and kicking off their shoes and heavy jacket before strolling over where he’s been sitting for who knows how long now. Matt could smell the sweat on his friend’s brow and a light drum beat from his chest that told him his friend had been in a hurry to get here.

“Matt?” Foggy said, peeking inside the bedroom. A look of relief crosses his face upon seeing his college buddy. “Sorry I’m late.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile at his consideration. “Nah, you’re good, Foggy.” He said, half heartedly (he just hopes he doesn't have a look of desperation plastered on). He felt those hazel eyes scanning him head to toe, concerned.

“Have you been up since this morning?” Foggy asked, remembering he had called around eight this morning. There was a pause of hesitation from the blind man before he ended up nodding. He frowns worriedly. “Matt–”

“Please, don’t lecture me.” Matt said, sounding like a little kid cowering with fear.

Foggy felt his heart hurt from it. “I wasn’t.” He promises, his frown deepening. “Have you eaten?”

Another small nod. “Yeah. I ate a little.”

“Showered?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“I…” Matt felt his chest get tight as he stumbled with his words. “Don’t want to leave the room for too long.”

Foggy couldn’t help but laugh. “Matt, you can take her in the bathroom. Just put the bassinet by the door.”

His face scrunched up. “Isn’t that weird?”

Another laugh. “Okay, how old is she again? Two months old? Even if she sees you naked she’s not going to remember.”

Matt closes his eyes to sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I guess…”

Foggy shakes his head. “You need to sometimes turn that Catholic brain of yours off, Murdock.” He replies, coming to sit down. Upon sitting he felt something underneath him and pulled out his friend’s phone. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was doing. “Did you call Mary?”

“Tried…” Matt chews on his cheek. “I uh… I just want some answers. I mean she’s… the mother so, I would think she would be… more capable at this. I mean why would she give her kid to a blind man who has no idea how–”

“Okay, going to stop you there.” Foggy butts in, hand coming to rest on the troubled man’s shoulder. “Even if you thought Mary was more capable, you’re still the father, you know? Blind or not, parenting isn't easy. Trust me. My own parents made that very clear. I’m sure your dad told you something along those lines too.”

Matt grew quiet for a second, thinking. “Yeah. I guess you have a point.” He shifts his gaze in his direction. “But it’s just… it’s frustrating. I-I can’t see so I… I-I have no idea how she’s feeling half the time. I’m scared that if I get that wrong I’m going to hurt her.”

Foggy squeezes his shoulder comfortably. “I know, man. I know.”

“And she’s… s-so tiny, Foggy.” He whispers, fearfully. “So tiny and I’m… a big guy. I-I feel like I’m… like I’m drowning because I don’t know what to do.”

Now it was his turn to get quiet. Foggy was trying to figure out how to phrase the next few words without striking too deep. “Do you regret your decision to keep her?”

“No, no, no.” Matt shakes his head. “I just… I-I love her, she’s my daughter. But there’s… times I wonder if…” He swallows. “If she would be… better not in my care.”

Those words hurt to even say, but it was true. Maybe this would have all been better if he went through with the adoption.

As the processing time ended, Matt felt Foggy’s arms wrap around his shoulders, cautious of the baby, and placed his head against him. Matt couldn’t help but lean into the touch he felt like he suddenly craved, and tried not to cry.

“Matt–” Foggy begins, his voice full of warmth and love. “You’re going to do great. Sure it’s hard, and it’s always going to be hard, but under all that exhaustion I can see how much you love this kid. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Matt chuckles, somewhere between disbelief and relief. “You r-really think so?” He said, swallowing again as his throat tightens.

“I know so.” Foggy pulls back. “Trust me, Buddy. I’ve seen the emotions you pack. I can already picture you picking her up on her first day of school, or helping her get a summer job, or walking her down the aisle for her big day.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Who says she’s getting married?”

“See?” Foggy lightly slaps him in the arm, grinning. “You’re already accepting the universal dad laws. Never letting your daughter near a boy her age. You know when my niece was born, my brother was pretty much ready to lock her in a tower far, far away. Surrounded by a dragon that was fifty feet tall, which breathed hot fire.”

Matt laughed again. “Uh, not sure if Amazon sells dragons but… the tower I can find and work with.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure New York has some of those.”

“How will I know they do?”

Foggy snorts and gives him a small shove while playfully saying his name. He finally felt a bit of success bloom when he noticed his friend’s happy face staying the same. “You’re doing great, man. But if you ever need help, Me and The Nelsons are here to help.”

Matt’s smile widens genuinely. “Thank you, Foggy.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

-Present Day-

Matt’s eyes open at the shift in the bed, he sets his blind gaze in that direction, quietly listening to see if she is awake.

She wasn’t. Good.

She needed to sleep.

It’s been about a week since the incident, and they’ve just gotten out of the hospital yesterday, and to his surprise (Well, he really shouldn’t be), his daughter wanted to stay pretty close to him for a while; Not that he was complaining. He wanted this too.

He shifted his own weight too, rolling to his side for a better view. She had gently wrapped herself in his blankets, and had carefully propped her injured leg on a pillow. His daughter finally looked like she was at peace, especially since he could tell she wasn’t suffering anymore night terrors.

Good. She doesn’t need that right now. He remembers she had one after Brett left the hospital room, her body finally giving out after the nightmarish incident. He remembers she bolted up, drenching in sweat as her heart raced a mile a minute. She was hyperventilating in a way he’s never heard before as she started muttering. ‘Where is he?’ or ‘Where am I?’. It broke his soul to her muttering, to feel her shake in his arms as he calmed her down. He never wants to go through that experience again.

I wonder if Brett’s figured anything out? The whole kidnapping situation still wasn’t adding up. Why was this�� man who claims to be their first client’s brother kidnap his daughter? Because… what? Nelson and Murdock ‘failed’ him? This just didn’t sit right with him. And Matt recalls when the man said something about a Boss. Boss? What Boss? Who could this Boss be? Who wanted to hurt Matt Murdock more than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? It just didn’t make any–

His daughter’s phone chimes loudly, the sound of a notification hit his ears quickly. Despite not being able to see it, he tries his best to reach over to the side table to hit the button to mute the sound. However his speedy actions cause a stir in his bed.

Kaila grumbles in her sleep, eye opening half lid. “Is it morning yet?”

Matt shifts back around, frowning at himself as he shakes his head. “No, no. Not yet.” He replies, gazing at her. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going out?”

That was like a little needle in chest, and made his face soften. “No. I’m not going out.”

“Shouldn’t you though?” She asked, dazed and confused.

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.” He brushes some of her stray hair out of her face, tucking it away gently. “Go back to sleep, baby girl.”

She hums at his touch and words, closing her eyes again, snuggling up the mattress some more. “M’kay… love you…”

He smiles. “Love you.” He waits for her to fall back to sleep before he does, closing his own eyes and forcing himself to sleep lightly for obvious reasons.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He opens the door to the light knocking, a soft smile on his face as he senses who it was. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Karen said, with a small wave and her little quirky bow of her head.

“I'm just about ready.” Matt explains letting her in and walking towards his living room to finish up.

“Okay.” She closes the door behind him, watching him closely as he struggles to finish his tie. “Uh, here, let me help with that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She hums in reply, getting real close to help him out. She mentally curses at herself when she could hear her own heart in her ears. Now that she knew his secret, she felt embarrassed by everything she did in the past.

Karen bites the inside of her cheek, keeping her eyes on the fabric in her hand. “You feeling any better?” She asked, knowing the last few nights were rough in the hospital.

Matt nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good… Now.” He swallows and whispers as she finishes, “With you.” He felt her curious eyes on him, now he felt embarrassed by what he just said. “Uh, not that I can verify, but you seem good at this.”

She brushes off her flustered face with laughter. “Uh, well, my brother wasn't, so that's where I came in.”

“Your brother must have been lucky for you.” He soon regretted saying those words as soon as it rolled off his tongue. Matt didn’t miss the goosebumps suddenly covering her body, and how her heart rate went up three notches. He frowns, concernedly. “Karen… You okay?”

She pales. “Um–”

“I thought I heard Karen.” Kaila says, coming into the room (unknowingly saving the day). She had her backpack in hand while her free one was gripping the crutch she was given for support.

In a motherly way, the blonde comes over to take the bag. “Let me grab that. That looks heavy.” She replies, slinging it over her own shoulder despite the teen’s protests.

“I can carry it.”

“The doctor said nothing too heavy, which…” Karen gestures to the bag and makes a face. “What’s in this?”

Kaila shrugs. “I gotta keep myself entertained somehow, because I ain’t doing you guys’ paperwork when I get there.”

Karen shakes her head, turning away towards the front door. Matt comes over next while sliding his jacket on, worriedness creeping on his face.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, hearing her crack a smile.

“Yes, Dad. I’m good. A little sore, but I’m alright.” Kaila replies, honestly. “So…” Her eyes flickered to the woman by the door before back at her father. “When’s the date?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “The what?”

“The date?” She chuckles at his puzzled expression. “Come on, Dad. I see the googly eyes, and you can cut the sexual tension in here with a knife.” She jabs him in the arm as he mouth becomes agape. “So when is it?”

“There’s no date.” He says, expressionless.

“But you want there to be.”

“Uh, well–”

“She knows you’re the devil, and she didn’t run away. I’d say that’s a keeper.” She walks past him, hand patting him on the arm. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“He’s lucky to be alive.” Karen says, as Kaila holds up an x-ray of the Punisher’s skull for them to see. “This is all of the stuff that the DA’s collecting for her case. And most of it’s about the Punisher’s victims. The Dogs of Hell, the cartel... But this was in the middle of it. Not someone he shot, him.”

“He’s insane.” Foggy says, as he, and everyone in the room, looked unwell by the picture. “Maybe he shot himself.”

“But he saved me.” Kaila points out, puzzled and baffled at the same time. When she learned that this was the man that helped save her from Baldy, the man known as ‘Punisher’, she was honestly surprised by how much of a bloody trail he’s really left behind.

“I know, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t.”

“I-I thought about that, but at that close of a range…” Karen trails off, waiting for someone to finish.

Which was Matt with, “Yeah, he’d be dead already.”

“Okay, not to go all tin-foil hat here, but Tower obviously slipped this to me for a reason. What if the Punisher isn’t the worst of it? What if Reyes is trying to cover something up?”

Now it was Foggy’s turn to look surprised. “You think that murderous psychopath isn’t the worst of it?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “And I think our best shot at protecting Nelson and Murdock is to find him.”

“It’s our best shot at career suicide or just getting shot.”

“She kind of has a point, Foggy.” Matt says, hands on his hips.

Foggy blinks in disbelief. “How?”

“I owe it to Frank, alright. He saved my daughter.”

“I know that. But what if he was just trying to get something out of you? Like an IOU? Or maybe he’s trying to pin the blame on you? Have you thought of that?”

“I have. But I don’t think those options are logical.”

“How? In what way is it not?”

Matt frowns. “He told me, ‘He expects me to do the same. Father to Father’. He’s a family man, or at least he was, I get the impression.”

Foggy sighs. “Look. Even if he is, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a dangerous man that tried to kill our client and a couple other groups of people.” The phone starts ringing and he gets up. “Just think about what I said, okay? I don’t want you getting shot again.”

Karen looks Matt’s way, confused. “Shot again?”

“Uh, he…” He clears his throat, blind gaze going somewhere else. “Kind of shot me in the head when I first met him.”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“It was the day you came for a visit and I was pissed at him.” Kaila replies, setting the x-ray down after gazing at it for so long. “He went temporarily deaf too.”

“You went deaf?!” Karen said, scolding. She watches him shrug sheepishly before sighing. “And I thought I was insane.”

“Welcome to having a Murdock in your life.”

She sighs again, rubbing her face. “Okay, I… I know this Punisher, or Frank, is a lunatic, but–”

“But you care, anyway?” Matt finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s more like curiosity. In between these files and… Reyes’ obsession and the fact that humans are a pretty complicated species to begin with, I just feel like there’s gotta be more to the story.”

He hums. “I think you are.”

She scoffs. “Oh, my God, you think I'm insane.”

Matt chuckles at her reaction. “I’m kidding. You’re compassionate. It’s a good quality, Karen. Stuff of saints.”

Karen frowns. “Yeah, well, I’m no saint…” She mumbles, looking away (Kaila does too for obvious reasons).

Matt, sensing something was off, replies with, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

“Matt!” Foggy calls from his office. “We have real, live, non-criminal clients who need our help.”

“Excuse me for a second.” He excused himself and entered the room. “Tell me.”

“Mr. DiPesta defaced the elevator in his building.”

“Which, technically, makes him a criminal.”

“That’s what his slumlord, excuse me, landlord says, but look. He’s got no AC, no hot water. This has Nelson and Murdock written all over it. But we gotta file today. Kar–”

“Dad!” Kaila shouts, and the boys immediately run back to the front at a quick speed. She was standing at the door that was open. “Karen told me she’d drive me home later and then left.”

“Maybe she just stepped out for some fresh air.” Foggy suggested just as Matt suddenly had a sinking feeling.

“Did she take the files?” The blind lawyer asked, worriedly.

“I think so. She grabbed some folder quickly that I didn’t see.” Kai continues, as her father feels around her desk; His head drops immediately while sighing.

“Shit.” Foggy rubs his head.

“I have to find her.” Matt said, already shedding some of his work attire for some street clothes.

“Find Frank first.”

“Already planning on it.”

“But, Dad–” Kaila begins, watching him slide a sweatshirt on. “You didn’t bring your suit.”

“I don’t need it.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ve been waiting to pick up my new one. Reinforced alloy.”

“Which means…?” She trails off with her eyebrow raised.

And with a ghost of a smile he says,

“Which means I won’t get shot again,”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Thanks to Karen’s A+ detective work, she manages to track down George Buck, a nurse with an… interesting past experience. It took a little bit to convince him to walk along the Hudson, just a small bribe of getting coffee.

“You were with him when this was taken?” She asked, ready to jot down the mental notes in her head.

“Yeah.” He replies, nodding. “That bullet tore through his head. Not many people survive that.”

“Well, I’d like to know what you remember.”

“John Doe. Guy was a total vegetable. I guess that’s why they decided he only needed one nurse.”

“Any family or visitors?” She knew Frank was a father judging by what he said to Matt, but still wanted to know if they were still around.

“No. I mean aside from the suits.”

“Suits?”

“Yeah. Uh, sometimes men, sometimes women. You can tell ‘em ‘cause they all wear the same ear pieces. That and the black suits. Kind of like uh…” He trails off while gesturing to the open air, hoping she gets the idea.

“Got any idea who these suits were?” She asked, curiously.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Uh, but they had their run of the place and they were the ones that pushed for the, uh, the DNR.”

She tilts her head. “A ‘do not resuscitate’?”

“Yeah. They had the paperwork. And I was there when the doctor pulled the plug.”

“I…I’m confused.” This wasn’t making any sense. “You’re saying this guy died?”

“Yeah, for about a minute. It’s crazy, but they say it happens sometimes. You know, one minute, flatline, then boom.” George’s eyes widened with the shock that was still there. “His heart starts back up again. On its own. He just didn’t wanna die. Within ten minutes of being awake… h-he reaches up and grabs my scrubs, yanks me down, and says, real close ‘Take me home’.” He frowns, guilty. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve known it’d get me fired.”

Now this got her interest peaked even more. “His home.” She tests out, hopeful. “Do you have an address?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As the sun finally kissed the sky goodnight, Frank was reliving his gut wretched past. He could still hear the music from the carousel; His children’s laughter; His wife’s beautiful words.

All of it.

The lights of the morbid thing only go off when the ride stops and everyone walks away with a smile on their face. Now all he sees is the silhouette that haunts him in his dreams. And with his extra sense, Frank quickly notices the mysterious man sitting on the next bench over, grinning like the son of a bitch he was.

“Nice night.” Is what he said, causing the ex-soldier some confusion. Before Frank could say anything, the man, who’s name was Rory, flashed the gun in his belt and replied, “I’m not alone.”

Right on cue people were coming in every direction, an expressionless feature greeted him.

Rory continues to boast saying, “You wanna come with us? Or you wanna make a mess?”

Frank, wasting no time, goes for him and starts beating him up, not caring that Rory had stuck some kind of needle into his neck. Rory’s guys move in only for Frank to take them all out with a single bullet each. But as soon as he thought the fight was over, someone knew entered the ring and shot his challenger.

The Punisher stumbled on his own two feet as the sedative kicked in, but his spirit wouldn’t be broken yet until he knew who this other person was.

The Irish gang leader, Finn, strolls over with his own set of individuals, looking more cocky than the man before. “Well, thanks for thinning out the herd. You’re surrounded, son. Now be a good lad and drop the iron.” He says, just as his men pointed their laser at his prey’s chest. “Come on. You seem like a smart one.”

With strong will, Frank tries to advance, only to be shot with various tasers and rendered unconscious.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt waited until he came out from the crime scene from the Irish themed bar. He stayed in the vibrant black and red light, ignoring the gun that was trained on.

“I need to know what happened here.” Sounds more like a demand than a question.

Mahoney looks behind him, nervously. “I’m not telling you shit.” He whispers, harshly. “You helped us catch Fisk, that don’t make us friends.”

“Was this the Punisher?”

“Jesus. The Irish, okay? To find the Punisher. They put a bounty on his head. Now people all over the Kitchen are getting hurt. It’s the goddamn Wild West out there.”

“Have the Irish found him?”

“As long as we keep getting calls like this, I guess not.” Mahoney watches as the vigilante seems satisfied with his answer, and was about to leave, although the cop was concerned for his safety. “Hey, stay out of it. You hear me?”

“I just wanna help, Sergeant.”

“No, you can’t help this one.”

“We’re on the same side, you and I.”

“Listen, You’re–”

‘2-Adam, shots fired. 65th Street transverse, by the carousel. All units to back.’

Mahoney touches his radio, eyes moving away. “Fifteen Sergeant responding, Central.” He replies, just as Matt makes his move to leave. Once seeing this, he couldn’t help but shake his head.

Jesus, Murdock. Stay out of this for once.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The window rolled down completely to see Foggy’s smugged face. “Ah, look who finally showed up. Did Cinderella really want to go to the ball that bad?” He asked as Karen sighed apologetically.

“I’m really, really sorry, Foggy.” She says, honest.

“It’s okay, just remember, we’re your friends. We worry.” He says, as she apologizes again. “It’s okay. Seriously. But don’t run off like that again. I’m still technically your boss.”

Karen snickers. “Alright, Boss man, I’ll remember to ask.”

“Thank you, my lovely co-worker.” He smiles and gestures for the teenager to come over. “Ready, K-Pop?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Kaila replies as he opens the passenger door. “Thanks.”

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” Karen asked, as he shook his head.

“No thanks. You know I live in the opposite direction.” Foggy said, waving them goodbye. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

The girls wave back as he takes a few steps down the sidewalk looking for a cab. As the young Murdock starts putting her seat belt on, she could see the blonde’s mind practically racing over something. It especially was clear when she was gnawing on her bottom lip and her fingers lightly drum the steering wheel.

You can really never turn that Reporter brain of yours off, huh Karen?

“You ready?” The blonde asked with a ghost of a smile.

Kaila tilts her head, feeling her out. “You’re taking me back home, right?”

“Yeah.” Karen said, nodding.

The teenager raises a knowing eyebrow. “But I can tell you don’t want to.” She says, ignoring Karen’s shocked face. She sighs and rolls the window back down, poking her head out just enough to still see her Uncle. “Hey, Foggy!”

The man perked up at his name just as he was raising his hand for a cab. He wastes no time to jog back over, concern on his features. “What’s up?”

“Get in.” Kaila jerks her head towards the backseat. “We’re breaking and entering.”

Those hazel eyes of his batted quickly, bafflingly. “What?”

“I said, get in the car. We’re going to need a lawyer if this goes south.”

“...What–”

“Just get in the car, Foggy.” Kaila said a bit more stern, which managed to get his ass in the back seat, muttering about what was going on. She pays no heed to him for a second and looks back at Karen who still had the same exact look on her face from a moment ago. “All yours, Cap.”

“Huh?” Karen looks between the teenager and the road ahead of her, debating. “Kai, I really shouldn’t–”

“Listen. I don’t really know who he is, but he saved my life. Whatever you have in mind, we owe it to him.” She smiles bittersweetly. “It’s the least we can do. Right?”

Karen took a minute to let it sink in, before putting her game face back on and taking the car out of park. While she starts pulling away, their guest in the back still seemed clueless about what this really was.

“What exactly is going on here?” Foggy asked, watching as the two girls give each other a look before deciding on a way to spill it to him.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Rory did his best to pretend to be dead, but once the Irish took away the Punisher, he made his move.

Somewhat.

His leg was dead weight from the bullet wound, so his only option was to crawl across the grounds around the carousel. He was using all the adrenaline he had to make his getaway, but that dream seemed short lived when the Devil was suddenly peering down at him. He was soon pinned against the ride, his wrist broken so fast when he tried to use his gun, causing him even more agony than necessary.

“Who did this?” Daredevil snared, still holding a nice grip on the man’s wrist.

Rory clenches his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. “People you don’t mess with.”

With the subtle tilt of his head, he replies, “You’re bleeding out. And I got all night.”

“Go to hell!!”

Matt twists his arm, getting him to cry again. “Who did this?”

“The one they call Punisher.”

“Where is he?”

Rory lets out a laugh. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause when we’re done with him, he’s as good as dead.”

Matt mentally sighs, “That’s helpful.” He mumbles, and twists a bit more, causing a louder scream. “But it’s not what I asked.”

His voice grows darker just as the sirens around them become louder and louder; and with a look of fear in his eyes…

Rory spilled everything.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

So this is the Castle family’s house? The trio was thinking as they parked their car across the street before trekking along the darkness to the back door.

“So, what are we doing here again?” Foggy asked, feeling like he was still in the dark about everything.

“We’re going to find anything that can help us with understanding Frank.” Karen explains, surveying the area.

“And how are we going to find something by looking at a house?”

“Because we’re going to be looking…” She slowly gestures to the back door. “Inside the house.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What– Karen, we can’t just–” Foggy trails off when he notices the teenager, crouching down carefully and jiggling a lock with a bobby pin. With a disapproving touch of his hand on her shoulder, he says, “Uh, excuse me, young lady. How do you know how to do this?”

Kaila smirks. “Remember that ‘secret’ candy drawer in your apartment?”

“Yeah…” He gasps quietly. “You were the one stealing from there?! Why?”

“Because–” She shrugs. “I wanted candy and you weren’t giving me any.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re in so much trouble. I interrogated a lot of people over that!”

“Yeah, and I lied. Sorry,” She pauses for a second. “Huh, and my dad knew the whole time.”

“You’re so grounded.”

She continues jiggling the lock until they hear a small ‘click’. She grins, standing up and grabbing her crutch as she moves inside, the other two following swiftly. The first thing they noticed beside the darkness was how cold the house was, and how you couldn’t hear anything. It made them all get goosebumps and a slight shock up their spines.

All having the same idea, Karen, Foggy and Kaila slowly start walking around the house with their phones’ flashlights. Going from the kitchen in the back to the main area. When they slowly start to make things out, Karen pulls a tissue from her purse, carefully grabbing and examining things as Foggy looks around, paling.

“This is really eerie, Karen.” Foggy replies, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting a picnic in here either.” She says, feeling the same way.

But to add more to their emotions, the three of them nearly jolted out of their own skins when Kaila’s crutch hit a small toy frog on the floor, activating it.

“Jesus…” Kaila muttered, holding her chest before sighing with relief. “What was that?”

Foggy shines the light where he heard it land, frowning. “It’s a wind up toy.” Then the realization hit. “Oh, God… He really was a father.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt arrives at the scene just as Frank manages to get himself untied and kill Finn while muttering a very… interesting phrase. He knocks out the two that would have put a few more bullets into Castle’s brain before cautiously walking towards him, but there was still a concerned aura around him.

Frank’s face twitched in anger. “They’re gonna pay. Every single goddamn one of ‘em.” He spews with boiling venom.

“They will.” Matt agrees before shaking his head. “But not tonight. Move. And no killing.”

Frank gives him a glare. “Altar boy.” He replies before grabbing something he could use as a weapon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a while, it was starting to become more and more heavy. It hit even harder when they came across the table filled with very depressing items. It made the whole situation worse than they thought.

Kaila stares at all the bouquets of flowers sent with condolence cards. The cards were addressed to none other than Frank Castle himself. She finds herself feeling very teary eyed.

“This is really…” She trails off, heart hurting. She couldn’t find the right word to say. Losing your entire family? In one night? She could only imagine what this must feel like.

So this is why Frank wanted to help my dad.

“I guess this explains his actions as the Punisher.” Karen said, standing next to her, looking the same. “I guess anyone would do the same thing in his shoes…”

“No shit.”

“Looks like he was a war hero, too.” Foggy calls out to them, getting them to turn around to face the wall of memorabilias. Sure enough there was Frank in uniform in several pictures, and a couple of his metals were on display. “And this is where his sniper skills come from.”

“Now it all makes sense.” Karen said, looking over them carefully, imprinting the images in her head.

“True. But–”

On cue, the three of them immediately turned their flashlights off when a vehicle pulled in front of the house. The headlights powered off just as Karen decides to take a peak. And just like the nurse from earlier was describing, here comes both men and women in black suits strolling out of the yellow van.

“Shit…” She whispers, letting go of the curtain.

What the fuck do we do now?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On the other side of town, after an intense battle for their lives, Matt found himself carefully setting down a heavily injured Frank Castle against a tombstone. The man grunted at the way his body seemed to mold against it, his adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Hey.” Frank begins, panting. He spares the blind man a glance. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” Matt said, breathing through his nostrils.

“I guess I, uh… I guess I was wrong.”

A tilt in his head. “About?”

“About you being a pussy.”

“Don’t get all sweet on me now, Frank.” Matt said, getting a laugh which soon turned into a coughing fit. He frowns worriedly. “Help’s on the way.”

“Nah.” Frank shakes his head. “You should go. I’m past saving. At least I’d have company, right?” A sigh. “I think I might cash out. You’d have made a hell of a Marine, Red.”

There was a twinge of guilt as he could hear the sincerity from his voice. Although Frank was the definition of ‘rough around the edges’, he could still see the soft and wonderful man he really was underneath.

It made Matt feel like shit to even think about.

“That rhyme. What's it mean?” Matt asked, genuinely curious while crouching down.

This catches Frank off guard for the first time in a while. “What’d you say? …Huh?”

“The thing you say. Right before you pull the trigger.”

“What do you… You heard that?”

“Well, when you’re a blind man, your other senses get heightened so… yeah, I heard it.”

Frank blinks in disbelief. “What the…” He sighs, not even going to question it. “I gotta say, sometimes... Sometimes I think you really just might be the devil.”

Matt nods in agreement. “Sometimes I think I might be, too.”

“It’s, uh…” Frank begins, already getting choked up. “One batch, two batch. Penny and dime, you know. It was her favorite book. You know, you… You gotta cross the ocean… and go fight. You see… whole time you’re thinking you’re gonna be scared, right? But then, you’re not. See, that part of it was always easy for me. Killing. Even watching my buddies die, it just… it didn’t mean nothing.”

His face twitches. “The first time I got scared was on a plane on the way home. I kept thinking God was gonna pull the rug out from under us, you know? Shit, that’s his kind of funny, you know. But the plane landed safe and we were home. Driving through traffic. Yeah, you pass fast food and donut shops and all that… that greasy shit. It’s the shit you fought to protect and then the car stops. We were outside her school. I get to her classroom, right?”

Frank keeps going as Matt slowly sinks himself into the ground, listening wholeheartedly. “She’s in there… but she’s got no idea.” His dark eyes glisten with tears. “She’s got no idea that Daddy’s home. I walk in, these kids, they’re not even studying, they’re–” He chuckles. “Doing some kind of yoga. Yeah. You know? She’s there. She’s doing her poses, you know. She’s bending and, you know, she’s moving. She looks like a flower. Yeah. And, you know, you can’t even understand it, you know, how does something like that have... How does something that beautiful– How does that… does that come from me, you know? I know you probably do. Don’t you?”

Matt nods. “Yeah. I do.” He could relate to that. Sometimes his daughter was so pure compared to him. So innocent despite the things she’s seen. It hurts a lot to think about sometimes.

Frank smiles brightly. “And she looks up and she sees me. I see her. By God, that’s real. That’s real, Red. Boom. In an instant, she’s across that classroom floor, she’s in my arms. She’s squeezing me so tight, I swear I was gonna bust a rib, you know? We just stayed there like that, we’re holding each other. Teacher, she’s filming the whole thing on her phone, you know, she’s gonna put it on YouTube or some shit. She can’t hold the thing steady, because, you know, she’s… she’s bawling so hard, and the kids are all wailing, you know, they’re screaming. And me? Shit, I’m the worst of all. I’m a… I’m a rubber-face clown, you know. I cried so hard.”

He looks up to the sky, trying to hold the floodgates from opening. “But not my baby. Not my girl. You know, she’s my girl. She’s… She’s not crying, she’s holding me up. My girl, she’s keeping me on my feet.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “She says, ‘I knew it, Daddy. I knew it.’ And then we go home. Wife, the boy. Place is the exact same. It’s like it was just holding its breath waiting for me to get back, you know? Then it hit me.”

Now he sounds desperate. “All of it, you know. The first time I felt how tired I was, you know, I was just tired, you know? You… Y-You ever been tired, Red?”

“Yeah.” Matt nods, sadly, knowing that feeling so very well. He’s known it his entire life.

“So, you know. It’s just, I couldn’t do nothing, you know?” Frank's lip quivered. “All the things… I couldn’t take my wife to bed. Ball with the boy. Shit, I was too tired, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer, you know. But not her. My girl was up. See, she wanted me to, uh… she wanted me to tuck her in. She… She outgrew it, she knew it, but she didn’t care. She wanted it. She had that book. Her favorite book was out on the pillows.

“‘One Batch, Two Batch Penny and Dime’. Yeah. I read her that book every night before this shit. I read it every single night, but, see, that was over now because Daddy’s home now. She looked at me and she begged me, Red. She begged. She begged. I said, ‘No… Daddy’s too tired, see. But I’ll… I’ll read to you tomorrow night. I’ll read to you tomorrow night, I promise’. Yeah. Never think that… for her there was not gonna be any tomorrow, see. The last time I’d see her, I’d be holding her lifeless body in my arms. Meat was spilling out of her, Red. The place where her face used to be.”

Frank casts a glance at the vigilante, pity on his features. “As much as I hated you for interfering with my work… I couldn’t stand the thought of another father going through that. I don’t think I could stand seeing you holding your daughter in your arms like that. Wailing like a baby, praying that the clock would turn back and the bullets would come for you instead. I didn’t want that for you.” He sighs, letting go of everything. “No. I think I’m done, Red. I think I’m done.”

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but a cop car pulls up with two officers hopping out, drawing their guns from their holsters.

“Police.” Brett said, walking at them at a steady pace. “Don’t move. Hands where I can see ‘em.” He sounded and seemed so disappointed. “Shots fired. Bodies, mayhem and shit. How come I just knew you weren’t going to listen?”

“I have something for you, Sergeant.” Matt said, standing up and giving them a view of the Punisher.

“That’s him?” Brett asked, getting a nod. “Cover him and get EMS.”

“Yep.” His partner replies, and moves around the Daredevil for the other man.

“And you, you incredible pain in my ass.” Brett continues, sheathing his gun as he makes the man before him kneel, hands behind his back. “I really wished you listened.”

“Get him help.” Was Matt’s reply.

“Shut up.” He starts pulling out his handcuffs. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Take the collar.”

Brett falters his movements. “What?”

“You heard me.” Matt replies with a bite. “You caught him, not me. It can’t be me, it has to be you.”

“Why?”

“To protect the Kitchen. For law, for order.”

“You’re telling me how to file a report now?”

“Yeah.” Matt scoffs. “Take the collar. Take the credit. Get a promotion, if you can. You’ve earned it.”

Brett purses his lip. “Bullshit.”

“No, people have to know the system works. Not his justice and not mine. Vigilante days are done in this town. The police are in charge.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“Then make it how it happened.”

The cop closes his eyes, realizing he is speaking the truth. “Shit…”

“EMT and backup on the way. Two minutes out.” The other officer calls out.

Brett sighs, and pulls Matt up from the ground. “Go. Go!” He shouts, making the devil run off into a sprint, leaving him with a newfound understanding.

Now I really know that’s you, Matt. A smile graced his lips for a split second just as thunder rumbled the sky and rain started to fall.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Miraculously, the troublesome trio somehow got out of the house without being seen. Which ended up being Karen taking Kaila’s crutch from her hand, and Foggy throwing the girl over his shoulder like a shake of potatoes. On the drive back was a mixture of anxiety and small bickering. How in the world are they going to explain this to their vigilante friend? As Foggy puts it, they’re ‘so fucked’.

But they eventually could release a breath of relief as they arrived back in the city, and back on route to where they were supposed to have gone in the first place. And despite their protests, the exhausted teenager went inside the apartment alone as the adults watched from the car.

“Think she’ll be okay by herself?” Karen asked, being a mother hen she was.

Foggy nods. “She should be fine. She’s just going to sleep.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Matt’s going to be so pissed when I tell him what she can do. Fuck. He’s going to be pissed at all of us.”

“I’ll take the blame again.”

“Oh, hell yeah you are.”

Suddenly her phone starts to ring, a picture of Matt appears along with his favorite song.

Oh, yes…

Perfect timing Mr. Daredevil.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After picking up their important guest, who had slipped a long coat over his costume, he had Karen drive them all back to the same apartment, watching/listening to the “news of the year” on the phone:

‘Frank Castle, the gunman wanted in connection with the Metro-General shooting and linked to dozens of recent gangland-related killings throughout Hell’s Kitchen was apprehended just hours ago outside Saint Michael’s Cemetery. An NYPD spokesman says, “Tonight, New York has Sergeant Brett Mahoney of the 15th Precinct to thank”.’

“Gotta hand it to Brett. He seems to follow you wherever you go.” Foggy replies, sending a look at Matt from the backseat.

Matt ignores that jab and says, “I’m glad people like him are looking out for Hell’s Kitchen.”

Foggy chuckles. “Yeah.”

“And I’m glad someone was looking out for him.”

“Oooh… I wonder who.”

“Press are calling Castle ‘a cold-blooded psychopath’.” Karen said, scoffing. “The DA’s gonna have a hell of a time using his prosecution to turn herself into a hero. It’s all working out perfectly.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to laugh. “Wow, way to bring us down, Ms. Page.” He says, smirking. “I think we've had enough Punisher for one evening. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Amen to that.” Foggy agrees, and Karen sighs again (Only Matt noticed something underlining there).

“You okay?” Matt asks, hearing her shift in her seat.

“Yeah.” She breathes, just as his eyebrows shoot up, not buying it. “Okay, that wasn’t convincing, was it? Um, I don’t know, I just, uh days like today remind me how precious life can be, you know?”

Matt and Karen exchange loving glances and that’s when Foggy, who was grinning like an idiot, made up an excuse to leave.

“You know what? My apartment’s kind of far. I-I should get a cab.” He explains as he starts gathering his things.

“A cab?” Karen asked, confused. She swears she convinced him earlier it was okay for her to drive him. What changed?

“You know we don’t mind driving you.” Matt adds as his friend shakes his head.

“Nah, that’s okay. Cab’s fine.” Foggy continues.

“It’s raining.”

“A little rain never hurts anyone.” He smiles and clasps a hand on each of their shoulders. “Well, you two have fun, have a drink for me, maybe play a board game, and try to keep it PG with your daughter in there. Okay? Goodnight!”

He wiggles himself out of the car with his belongings, leaving the two of them staring in disbelief…

Before both turning beat red.

Karen buries her face in her hands. “Oh, Foggy…” She said, making them both chuckle. “Uh… should we… um…?

“...ignore… him?” Matt says slowly.

“Uh, y-yes? Maybe?” She starts hearing him laugh again. “I don’t know.”

“Uh, m-me neither. So…”

“You… Um…” She fiddles with her hands. “Actually…”

He tilts his head. “Something you want to tell me?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Promise.”

He smiles. “Okay.”

“I’ll walk you inside.”

The two of them get out of the car, Karen taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the door. The warm rain soaking them immediately, but neither of them minded. They walked the concrete path, touching the edge of the steps with their toes when Matt suddenly tugs them both to a stop. The atmosphere was so light and comforting; It made them feel like they were on cloud 9.

Matt’s fingers ghosted her arm, trailing seductively up to her shoulder as she quietly gasped at his touch. Finally he cupped her cheek, some of her golden locks getting entangled, trapping his fingers like a spiderweb. And with hope in both of their eyes, both of them leaned in for a (long overdue) blissful kiss. Short and sweet, but it was breathtaking, exhilarating. And when they broke apart, they let their foreheads rest against each other, smiling.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Matt asks as he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes.” She replies, happily.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

His smile grew, his chest feeling a thousand times lighter now. “Goodnight, Karen.”

She mimicked him at this very moment as well. “Goodnight, Matt.”

With a new pep in her step, she heads back to her car which was just the cue Matt was waiting for to head back inside. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he climbed the stairs and entered his home. Setting his things by the door, he starts heading in the direction of his room. If his daughter was still up then–

Oh, boy. He thought, only imagining what her reaction would be when he tell her the news.

Kai’s going to have a field day with this one.

But just as his hand was reaching for the door handle, his senses suddenly caught onto something. He jolts in his stance, spinning around with his fists up, ready to fight. He tunes in on a figure -a woman- in his kitchen, twirling with one of his knives. With that sweet, sweet voice of poison he remembers so very well, she says,

“Hello, Matthew.”

With his heart in his throat he croaks, “Elektra.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on him for a while before she stopped her movements to take a swig of the drink she stole from the fridge. “Mmm! German beer. Tastes like piss.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He says, lowering his hands slightly, focusing completely on her.

“You’ve never been hard to find.”

He clenches his jaw. “That’s not what I asked.”

“At least your furniture’s improved.” She said in her attempt at small talk. She sets the bottle down and starts making her way over.

“Kinda liked my old futon.”

“I liked breaking it in.” She says, seductively. “Nice place. Too bad about the clothes, though.”

He holds his hand up, a sign she took for her to stop as she entered the living area. “Why are you here?”

She sighs. “Would you believe it if I said I missed you?”

Not missing a beat he says, “No.”

“Smart man. Columbia education really paid off.”

“No thanks to you.” He bites back.

She chuckles. “I’m in New York for a meeting. I thought I’d pop by.”

“Well, you’re not staying here, so…”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “My penthouse in midtown will just have to do, then. We spent some nights there.”

He mentally cusses, holding back an eye twitch. “Look, if you came here to walk down memory lane, I don’t really have the–”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that things happen for a reason, that you and I were not meant to be. But I know now. That wasn’t fate. It was a choice. My choice. And I’m sorry. I’m alone in the world, Matthew. Do you know what that feels like?”

Matt scoffs in disbelief. “No.”

She seemed disappointed. “Of course you do. You–”

“I really don’t.” He snaps, bitterly, honestly. “Not in a long time I haven’t.”

Elektra sighs. “Well, you must know what it’s like to clean up your father’s messes. A long time ago, before he died, my father did business with the Roxxon Corporation.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Roxxon?”

“Energy, cleaning supplies, macaroni and cheese. Child labor, slave trade. They have their fingers in everything. I believe it’s called diversification. And thanks to my father’s shitty investments, they hold most of his wealth.”

“Yeah, okay. I–”

“I have a meeting tomorrow with the board at the Yakatomi Building. And I need your help, Matthew.”

“How am I supposed to help you?” He asked, puzzled.

“I want you to use that expensive legal training of yours to help me get my money back–”

“See, I’m a defense lawyer.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not taking your money. And, even if I accepted, there’s not enough time.”

“For what?” Elektra asked, confused.

“Oh, just research. Accounts, shareholders, hierarchy of the–”

“You have fifteen hours.”

He blinks. “Fifteen hours, Elektra, are you insane?”

“Matthew.” She sighs his name. “You’re the only person I–”

She trails off like she suddenly listening for something, and Matt was puzzled on what until–

Nobody could miss the way he tenses and holds his hands up. “Elektra.” He starts warning, as he could hear her gripping the kitchen knife. “Wait– Don’t!!”

He manages to snag the knife midair just as the bedroom door slide opens, his quick action startling his poor kid. He winces as soon as the blade makes contact with his skin, and lets it go immediately.

“Shit!” He cusses, blood pooling from his open palm.

“Are you okay?!” Kaila gasps, shifting her weight onto her good leg as she tries to look at his injury.

“Matthew?” Elektra’s voice broke through making him stiff up again. “Who’s that?”

He hides his pain quickly, and uses his non-injured hand to push his kid behind him. “You need to leave.” He said, stern and underlining cold.

Kai casts a glance at him. “Dad?” She whispers, scared.

Elektra looks between the two, puzzled. “Dad?” She asked, hurt in her face as she looked at her ex. “You have a daughter?”

“Dad, who’s is–”

“You need to leave. Now.” Matt repeats, tougher.

“Since when did you have a kid?” Elektra asked, pain in her voice as steps closer. “And with whom?”

Matt pulls his daughter completely behind, a subtle sign to tell her to stay back. “Does that even matter?” He asked, not even letting her answer. “You have no right to ask me that. Leave.”

“Matthew–”

“Leave.”

If anyone else was in her place they would have trembled under his tone of voice alone; But even Elektra, who claims she knows the real him, seemed taken back. Not even saying another word, she left out the front door like she was a guest and not someone who trespassed (which seemed to piss Matt off more than it should have). Matt almost didn’t want to relax, he knows she’ll come back. She always does. She always seems to–

Kaila nearly fell to the ground if he hadn’t been standing there. Her name passed by his lips quickly as he caught her, leaning her against him.

“Why are you walking on your own? Where’s your crutch?” He asks, getting them both settled down on the bed.

“I kind of leaped out of bed ‘cause of concern.” She replies, before grabbing a gentle hold onto his wrist. “Your hand.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think I need stitches.”

She stares at his palm, carefully feeling around the cut to confirm his words before asking, “Who is she?”

He frowns, slightly ashamed. “She uh, is an old… flame of mine. Second year. My uh… party boy era.”

“Party boy era?” She watches him nod. “You told me some stories. But you never mention a girlfriend.”

“She’s… not my proudest accomplishment.”

Kaila frowns, sadly. “Was she before my mother?”

“Before Mary, yeah.”

“So what happened with… her?”

He sighs. “After a while, she started doing stuff that… I didn’t like. The last thing she did was pretty awful. When I comforted her about it, she yelled at me and then disappeared. That’s the last time I ever saw her.”

“Damn.” Kaila muttered. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well…” She starts leaning forward to grab the first aid kit under the bed. “You might have dodged a bullet there, dad.” She pulls out some disinfectant wipes and a gauze. “She seems… violent.”

Matt chuckles dryly. “Very.” His expression fades back into worriedness. “You’re not going to ask more questions?”

“I’ve heard enough. You told me enough.” She starts looking around for her phone. “Besides–” She snags it off the end of the nightstand. “If there’s more to what you need to tell me you will. But if it doesn’t affect our lives, then I’m not worried about it.”

She smiles up at him, and he couldn’t help but copy her.

“I really lucked out with you as my daughter, Kai.” Matt said, making her snort.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me. Here–” She hands him her phone that had the flashlight on. “Hold this up for me.”

“Can do.” He lets her do her thing, taking this small moment and cherishing it despite the circumstances leading up to it. “Thank you, Dr. Kaila.”

She smirks. “Hey, that’s Dr. Murdock for you, sir.” Kaila replies, cheeky just finishing up. “‘Least it was your non-dominant hand.”

“And I’m grateful for that.” He says, handing the device to her. Just as he does, the teenager’s phone buzzes and he feels her gaze immediately lock with it, disappointment registering on her face. Matt latches onto this quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s… nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. You seem… upset.” He uses his non-injured hand to tilt her head towards him. “What’s wrong?”

She frowns. “It just… I met someone at work–”

“You met someone?”

“A friend. His name is Jayden–”

“His name?”

She rolls her brown eyes. “Dad, stop.”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “Continue.”

“Anyway, we started talking and texting one another, and we even made plans to hang out, however I got… you know… kidnapped.” Her frown deepens as she crosses her arms. “He texted me if I was okay, I said I was, and then… that’s it. He hasn’t responded to any of my texts. It’s… weird.” A sigh. “Do you think I did something wrong?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Then how come he’s ignoring me?”

“Well… maybe he doesn’t know how to respond after what happened to you. Maybe it just feels awkward for him. It’s not everyday that someone’s friend gets kidnapped.”

Kaila nods slowly, processing his words. “True.”

“He’s also probably taken back by how you responded. To him, you might have sounded… too okay with a text. It might have been different if you two would have talked on the phone or face-to-face.”

“True.”

“Just give him some time. If he doesn’t respond, maybe try giving him a call. Okay?”

She sighs. “Okay. You’re right.”

“Good.” He says, as a smile starts to grow. “Well, on the bright side–” He nudges her a bit. “I’ve got good news.”

“What?”

“Your old man might have… put a move on a certain blonde tonight.” A gasp. “And I might have asked her to dinner tomorrow.” Another gasp. “And she might have said yes.”

She squeals. “Dad, that’s awesome!” She shouts, making him laugh. “Awe. Do you have something to wear? Or do we need to go shopping? Or–”

“Kai–”

“We could go to that new tailor store up the road. Or we could go into town square for the day.”

“Kai–”

“What about places to eat? Do you have any idea where you’re going to take her?”

“Kai–” He laughs again at her enthusiasm and grabs her by the forearm to stop her. “Relax. You’re way more excited about this than I am.”

“Sorry.” She said, blushing. “You haven’t been on a date in a long time. One that you actually seem happy for.”

“Well, I…” Now it was his turn to get red. “I like Karen. She makes me feel… good. Happy. Warm.”

“Awe.” Kaila threw her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you feel that way. Although… I can’t believe Karen of all people is trying to take my number one spot with you.”

Another laugh. “Oh… baby girl–” He kisses her temple. “You'll always be my number one.”

And that was the absolute truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Morning.” Kaila said, as she and her father entered the office the very next day.

Foggy smiles, eyes still glued to the newspaper he was currently reading. “Murdocks.”

“We, uh, have anything for breakfast?” Matt asked as he started pouring himself a glass of water from their filter.

Foggy raises an eyebrow. “You hungry or hungover?”

A brief pause. “Both.”

Kaila gives him a look as she sits down. “Since when did you have a drink last night?” She asked, and got a shrug in return.

Foggy chuckles. “All right, you need some potassium, some electrolytes, and a jolt of caffeine. I’ll give you, uh…” He looks around before snapping his fingers at something. “-The last piece of Mrs. DiNizio’s peach cobbler, which is… the last piece of anything in this office.”

“I guess our finances haven’t improved since last week.” Matt said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, clients don’t respond well to a ‘closed’ sign.”

Kaila looks between the two, concerned. “Should… I be worried?”

Her father sighs and shakes his head. “No, baby girl, don’t… it’s my fault. I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Don't be.” Foggy replies, taking a seat next to his niece, still reading. “You got Punisher off the street. I’m hoping Reyes will get her jackboot off our neck and this office can go back to normal.”

“Can you though?” Kai said, getting their attention. “I mean with everything we’ve gotten entangled with… can we be normal again?”

Before the boys could process her words, Nelson and Murdock’s last employee finally arrived.

“Matt–” Karen enters the room, startling herself as she tries to balance a tray full of beverages. “Uh, good morning.”

“Hey, Karen.” Matt said, a little smile ghosting his face.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, not so much. You?”

“Me?” She slurred, closing the door with her elbow. “Yeah, sure. Uh, I-I mean–”

“Is that coffee I can smell?” He said, feeling his heart race.

“Hmm?”

“Coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, um… Yeah, arabica for all.” She chuckles and starts handing the cups over. “For everyone.” She hands over the last one for Kai. “Uh, Chai for you.”

The teenager’s eyes light up with happiness. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Yeah, Thanks. You’re a goddess.” Matt said, still grinning.

“Okay, you two.” Foggy cuts in, still smiling like a goof. “Let’s talk business. Potential clients. Real ones. With bank in the bank.”

“Uh, actually, yeah, can we, uh, talk about these first?” Karen asked, holding up some paper. The boys follow her as she stands behind her own desk. “The, uh, press is still painting Castle like he’s nothing more than some deranged lunatic.”

“Well, it’s not like our boy was out collecting for the Red Cross.” Foggy points out, even after knowing what he discovered last night.

“I know. I know, but–”

“You think there’s more to the story.” Matt finishes, already knowing this was going to be true (everyone did).

“Exactly. I mean, five different papers and not a word about the bullet he took to the brain, or his military record, or his family.” She continues, running a hand through her locks. “So we know what he said last to you about his daughter was true. W-We found this photograph. It’s of him and his wife and kids at the carousel–”

“We?” The Blind man asked, confused. “You mean…” He points between his friends. “The two of you?” He didn’t miss the way their heartbeats flickered. “You guys found it where, exactly?”

“W-We… sort of broke into his house last night.”

“Broke in? Last night you–” He trails off at a realization, and with a steady expression he turns in his daughter’s direction who was nervously sipping her drink.

She eventually just shrugs. “Murdock curse…?”

“I… shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.” Matt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I get what you were trying to do, but that still was dangerous and illegal.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Karen said, apologetically.

“For the record, I didn’t know that’s what we were going to do. I just thought we were going to look at the house from afar.” Foggy said, holding his hands up. “But, I will still take some of the blame… but your daughter knows how to pick locks.”

Matt looks her way again. “You know how to do what?”

“Why are you throwing me into this?” Kaila asked, dumbfounded. “Shouldn’t we be listening to Karen? I mean, I know Frank is a lunatic, but he threw one of his missions away to save me. Shouldn’t Nelson and Murdock at least try to see if they can help him?”

“No.” Foggy shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah he saved you, but come on, we successfully dodged a metaphorical bullet and quite a few literal ones. We need to be done with the crazy, guys. We need normal.”

And with that said he stormed into his own office.

“I’m sorry.” Karen said, bowing her head. “I’m really sorry if I– I pushed it too far.”

“It’s okay.” Matt said, with a light laugh. “Just Uh, I don’t think you’re wrong about him, I feel the same way too, but it’s really simple, Karen. Just I don’t want you to get hurt. Not like I have…”

She lets those words sink in before deciding to test the waters somewhere else. “So, uh... Last night.”

“Last night?” He pinches his brows together, all tongue and cheek. “I don’t– What happened last night? At Josie’s? With Foggy?”

She giggles. “You…”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else? I don’t–”

“Yeah?”

Matt laughs quietly, softly. “Yeah, it was great. And I like to think I can do better, if we’re still on for dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a date.”

“Holy shit!” Foggy said, coming back into the room. “That was the bank.”

Karen frowns with dread. “Oh, no.”

“No, it’s all good.” Foggy continues, still stunned by the news. “There was a deposit. A big one.”

“What?”

Kaila’s eyes widened with realization before looking at her Father. “Dad–”

“Uh, actually, do me a favor, don’t spend any of it.” Matt blurts out nervously.

“Dad–”

Foggy gives him a strange look. “Why not?” He asked, concernedly.

“I-I was hit up by a potential client yesterday, so, I just–” Matt tried explaining but his friend was now nervously saying things.

“Is it dirty money? Are we doing that again?”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, um– I’m not sure it’s gonna work out, let me… Let me just–”

“Dad!!” Kaila shouts, getting him to stop. “Enough lying! Just tell them the truth. You promised no more secrets.”

With those words, she trapped her Dad like a deer in a headlight. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, puzzled and on the border of hurt.

“What secret?” Karen asked, with a tilt of her head.

“Okay, who’s this client, Matt?” Foggy asked, bracing himself for the answer.

Matt lets out a sigh knowing he’s been pinned down. And with a small shift in his stance, hands on his hips he says, “It’s… Elektra.” And he didn’t need sight to know that his college roommate’s eyes were slowly bugging out of his head.

“Wait…” Foggy mumbles, hands waving around, grasping something imaginary. “Elektra?” He tests out the name that burns on his tongue. “Psychopath Elektra? Your old girlfriend from college?”

Karen immediately copies his expression. “Old girlfriend?” She asked, looking between the two.

“Yeah!” Foggy boasts, arms flinging out in a dramatic way. “I-I mean she was beautiful, b-but fucking off the walls crazy!” He stares at Matt in disbelief. “You mean she showed up back in your life?”

Matt nods. “S-She… was at my door when I came home last night.”

Karen crosses her arms, intrigued. “W-What did she want?”

“Uh, basically, long story short, she wants to get her father’s wealth back from this company called Roxxon. She wanted me to be her lawyer. I told her no, but apparently she didn’t listen.”

“What do we do?” Foggy asked, while rubbing his tired face.

“I’m going to have to talk to her, I mean we’re defense lawyers. What can we do?”

“And you’re talking to her as… Matt Murdock? Or the other guy?”

Matt frowns. “Not sure yet. I’ll be back.” He says, making his way where he left his walking stick. His gaze soon leads to Karen. “I’ll make sure to be back for tonight.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow between the two. “What’s tonight?” He asked, confused by this potential memo he missed.

“They’re going on a date.” Kaila sang, grinning ear to ear while making the two adults blushed.

“What?!” Her Uncle said, baffled. “Are you serious?” He gets a quick nod of confirmation from his niece before throwing his arms in the air. “Finally!”

Matt listens to his daughter’s giggle before touching her shoulder, grabbing her attention. “I’ll be back.”

Kaila nods as her expression fades. “Be careful.”

“I will, but–” He taps the top of her phone, knowing exactly what she was doing on it. “Worry about meeting your friend.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was texting–” But he leaves without another word, and she’s left staring at her device.

Once the door closes, Foggy reverts back to a curious fellow. “Your friend?”

“Uh–” Kaila meets his eyes for a split second before looking away. “I made a friend at work, and I’m… having some trouble with him.”

“Him?” He asked in the same tone of fashion her father had the night before.

She almost visibly eyerolls. “Okay, I don’t need the protective lecture again. He’s just a friend that happens to be a boy. Alright?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. Habit, you know?”

Suddenly the office phone rings and Foggy excuses himself to go answer it just as Karen takes a seat next to the teenager.

“Need some advice?” She asked, softly.

Kaila shrugs and sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well… what’s this boy like? Is he nice? How did you meet?”

“I… I met him before the summer, right around the time you guys were about to bring Fisk down. I met him, Jayden, at that coffee shop I like to go to sometimes. We talked, just a short little conversation as we waited for our drinks, then that was it.” Kaila explains slowly, shifting in her seat. “Then, about a month into my job, he started working there. Maybe it was just a weird coincidence, but I took it as a sign that maybe the universe was finally giving me a friend.”

Karen tilts her head again. “Finally?”

The young Murdock shrugged. “I never really had friends growing up. Everyone was also so cliquey. It was strange. I was basically the girl you invited to a party because you felt bad.”

The blonde frowns. “Kai…”

“It’s fine, really. I’m not bothered by it as much as before. I mean, I did have one friend who I considered my best friend in the sixth grade, I mean we did everything together.” She slouches in her chair. “But the day she and her parents met my father, she never spoke to me again. Her parents were the helicopter ones, strict about everything. And… they obviously didn’t like blind people. Rich jackasses.”

“Kai, that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I like Jayden because we have a lot in common. Same music taste, we love scary movies, love books, I could go on. But ever since the kidnapping, he texted me if I was okay, I replied back and that was it. Dead silence.” She continues. “I want to go talk to him, but I don’t know where he lives, and I can’t exactly go back to my job because I’m on temporary leave, and to quote my Boss, he said, ‘If I see you set foot in this store instead of being home healing I’ll fire you’. And I kind of like my job, so… yeah.”

“Huh.” Karen said, thinking. “Have you talked it over with your dad?”

“He suggested I should give him a little bit before calling, but I don’t know. Should I even wait?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” And just before more could be said, a certain DA’s right hand came strolling in. Karen stands up, surprised. “Mr. Tower? I, uh, wish you’d called. I’d have something set up.”

“Are they in?” He asked, quickly. And right on cue, Foggy peaks from his office door.

“Just the Nelson half.” He replies, puzzled as well.

“We need to talk. In private.” Tower replies, ignoring the many jabs the people in the room were giving him as he entered Foggy’s office.

“Asshole.” Kaila said, once the door was closed.

Karen chuckles. “Can be…”

“Why don’t you do what you have to?” The Murdock gestures towards the exit. “I know that detective brain of yours wants to work on the Castle case.”

The blonde looks surprised again. “You sure?”

“Of course. There’s not much I’ll be able to do since I don’t know what you’re looking for. Besides–” She holds her phone up. “Maybe I should try.”

Karen smiles and grabs her purse. “Good luck.”

“You too.” Kaila waits till she leaves before scrolling to his contact and hitting the phone icon; She lifts it to her ear, waiting to see if it’ll stop ringing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hours later after their separate adventures, both Karen and Matt made it on time for their date. The blonde was nervously flipping through the menu as the lawyer stayed silent, just listening.

“D-Do you drink wine?” Karen nervously stutters. “I should know that.”

“I… don’t drink anything they don’t serve at Josie’s.” Was Matt’s answer, which got her to laugh.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see swill on the menu.”

Their eyes locked for a moment before getting preoccupied again. Eventually they both tried to speak at the same time. “So how was–/So what did–” A laugh. “I’m sorry–/I was just gonna–”

Karen smiles, setting the menu down. “Uh, you go ahead. Go, go first.”

Matt copies her. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Uh, yeah, just a regular day at the office.”

“Well, it’s a nice change of pace, right? Not being shot at?” He nervously laughs. “That’s gotta feel good.”

She hums, and takes a sip of water. “Yeah.” She sets the glass down, folding her hands on top of one another. “You, uh… how’s the, uh, new… you know. Elektra.”

Matt inhales deeply, clearly still frustrated over the mess. “Honestly, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her. I kind of…” A slight shrugged. “Eavesdropped on the meeting.”

“Is she… in trouble you think?” Karen asked, genuinely curious.

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t want to get involved. Like I told Kai last night, she left many years ago, I’ve forgotten about her, and that’s all I want to do.”

Karen looks at him worriedly, finally seeing the hurt he’s been through appearing on his face. “I’m sorry. It… sucks when your past comes back to bite you. I know I’ve… I’ve had my fair share of that.”

Matt’s heart clenched, frowning sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He whispers, and there was a brief pause before they both recollected themselves. “Well, uh… that covers work.”

She changes her expression to a joyful one like earlier. “Uh, well, it's a start. Um–” She pointed to a corner of the restaurant where the bathroom was. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Order something fantastic.”

“Sure thing.” He says, hearing her leave. Once she does he lets out a sigh, embarrassed how this was going. He thought maybe his struggles would be helped when the waiter suddenly appeared by his side. “Look. If I had to seem like I knew everything there is to know about wines in the next 60 seconds, what would I… what would I order?”

“Matthew Murdock?” The waiter said, sounding all buddy-buddy.

Matt tilts his head in confusion. “Yeah.”

He holds out a phone. “You have a call.”

“Oh.” Matt takes it. “Thanks.” He lifts it to his ear. “This is Murdock.”

‘Sorry to bother you while you're out, but you have a few moments before she returns, right?’

Matt mentally curses as soon as he hears her voice. He clenches the phone, and hiss, “What do you want from me?”

‘You should ask yourself the same question. That rooftop act was cute.’

“Yeah, nothing compared to your damsel-in-distress one.” He grits his teeth as she laughs at his reply.

‘Oh, you’re right. I didn’t actually need you. I told you, maybe I just missed you. But don’t worry, you can keep the money.’

Matt chuckles sarcastically. “Aw.. Go to fucking hell.”

‘If you really want to be done, consider this me firing you.’

And then he was met with the dial tone, supposedly ending this ‘nightmare’ (or maybe it was just starting it).

“Hey.” Karen’s sweet voice broke through, pulling him away from the memories of his past.

He flashes her a reassuring smile. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… th-they ran out of wine.”

She chuckles at what she thought was a joke. “No.” She frowns when she sees he wasn’t laughing back. “Wait, seriously? Matt–”

“I-I don’t I don’t like this place, you know?”

“Is it the place? Or is it–”

“It’s definitely not you.” He quickly says, truthfully.

“You’re sure?” She said, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah.” He hears his own heart flutter, getting back into the groove. “I’m positive.”

She bites her lip seductively before taking him by the hand. “Come on. I know where we can go.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Thank you.” Karen said to their new waiter at their new date spot.

“Wow, this smells amazing.” Matt replies, the curry and other spices hitting his nose blissfully. “What is it?”

“Um…” She laughs at herself, not knowing either. “Who cares? They have wine.”

Matt finds himself grinning ear to ear. “Right. That’s… You know, I’ve always felt more comfortable with the cheap stuff. You know?”

“Yeah? Well, here, I’ll drink to that.” She holds her glass up waiting for Matt to do the same before clicking.

“Cheap stuff.”

She grins too. “Cheap stuff.” She sets her glass down after a sip, grabbing her fork to dig in. “You know, I never even had Indian food until a few months ago.”

“How is that possible?” Matt asked, surprised.

“Well, my hometown in Vermont had about 400 people, so the most ethnic food it offered was French fries.”

“So that’s why you, uh, came to New York? For the food?”

She shakes her head at his cheekiness. “Uh, no. Although, if I knew places like this existed, I’d have left Vermont ages ago.”

“You see, that’s why I love this city.” He says, hearing her hum to continue. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and the place never stops unfolding new secrets.”

She nods in understanding. “Yeah, you know despite the crime, and the darkness, every once in a while, New York makes me feel…

“Like, safe?”

“Yes, is that weird?”

He shrugs. “Well–

“Huh.”

“I get it.”

Another flutter to her heart as she leans in closer. “I wish you could see this place.”

Matt smiles. “I can, if you describe it to me.”

She hums again, setting her fork down and using her hands to speak. “S-So, anyways, my favorite part… is the ceiling. It’s literally dripping with thousands of lights. They’re shaped like chili peppers–” She holds her hand up before he could protest. “Which sounds really tacky, I know, but it’s um, it’s not. Just… It’s magic.”

“Magic?”

“Yeah.” They lock eyes again. “Magic.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After dinner, the two of them took a lovely stroll hand and hand. It seems like this wonderful night would last forever, until they arrived just outside the Page residence.

Karen looks torn as she pulls them both to a stop. “This is me.” She said, before laughing nervously.

“Are you sure you don’t… live two more blocks?” Matt asked, feeling the same way. “Maybe three?”

“I wish.” She shifts her towards him. “We could sit.”

“Yeah.” He guides them down on the steps, and he pulls his shades off, taking this moment in. He chuckles, scooting closer. “All right, I’m gonna kiss ya.”

And she lets him.

They both started off sweetly before turning it up a notch, hands gripping onto each other’s clothing like it was a life line. Maybe in some way… it was.

“You can come up… if you like?” Karen asked in between their kisses.

Matt hums against her lips, smiling. “I’d love to.”

And he kisses her again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, so how many voicemails did you leave?” Foggy asked his Niece as they walked from the office back to her home. He wasn’t surprised when Karen left earlier in the day to do some research, but he was taken back by how his Niece seemed very repetitive with her moves today.

Looking quite embarrassed, and not even looking at him she said, “...Eight.”

“Eight?” He replies, shocked. “Jesus, Kai. I don’t think I’ve seen you stress something over like this before.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He frowns at how disappointed she sounded. “Kaila–”

“It’s okay, Foggy. I’ll be alright.” She says, as she heads up to her apartment entrance, keys in hand.

“Hey.” He says, getting her to finally turn around to look at him. “Try not to stress over it. I’m sure he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t…” He shrugs. “Fuck him. You’re too good for him anyway.”

Kaila cracks a smile. “Thank you, Uncle Foggy. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

She unlocks the front door and heads inside, carefully guiding herself to ride the elevator. She sighs after hitting her floor number, a wave of exhaustion hitting her hard.

He’s right. I shouldn’t be stressing over this. And she shouldn’t, but it still hurts to admit that.

I finally found someone that I consider a real friend and he ghosts me. Lucky me…

The elevator dings and opens, and she slowly moves across the hallway to the very end. She fishes around her key ring for the right one–

“Hey, Coffee girl.” A voice erupts behind her, making her nearly jump out of her shoes.

Head whipping around quickly, she blinks upon confusion. “...Jayden?”

The dark haired boy looks nervous, and out of place, but still manages to give her a wave. “Hi.”

“W-What…” She shakes her head, recollecting herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I… got your voicemails.” He holds up his phone before putting it back away. “Can we uh… can we talk?”

“Talk…?”

“Yeah. Can we?”

She doesn’t know if this was a dream or not, but if it isn’t, something was telling her to cease this opportunity or else. Finally relaxing her tense body, she replies,

“Sure.”

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