fiending over fictional men like always.

s.g. & m.s.

“Sorry, Love, had a bit of an awful night.” He ran his hand across his face, looking extraordinarily apologetic. Your eyes went wide, and he must’ve mistaken your reaction for something else as he began to ramble. “I mean, not awful awful. Just have a sleeping disorder of sorts and it causes me a few problems sometimes is all. Nothing to put yourself out about, it’s just..” His cheeks darken with flush when he sees you still staring, and he scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, I started babbling off on you now, didn’t I?”

“No! No, you’re fine. You’re perfect.” You blurt before this man could shrink away from you. He freezes, and once the realization of your words settle in, your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

“What did you say?” But before you can respond, the bus halts to a stop, causing you to stumble into the man who doesn’t hesitate to reach to steady you. 

He has this cute little accent and he’s considerate? The universe was really looking out for you.

d.d. with blind!reader

“Hello stranger, have you seen any fowl around here?” Din hadn’t meant to end up wandering into someone’s field, more so trying to get away from the bustle and attention of the locals when he managed to run into one. But by the way she carried a cane meant for visual impairment along with her unfocused eyes, to his luck, she was likely blind. At least she couldn’t gape at the beskar like those in town did. 

The query causes him to tilt his head slightly in confusion, but it doesn’t take much effort from the man to look around before he soon spots the chicken. “I see it.” Din eyes the bird that’s perched on top of a small cottage about a stone’s throw from where they’re standing. But with little structures nearby the building, it makes him wonder how it managed to get up there in the first place. “I can retrieve it for you.” He finds himself offering, already walking towards the place when she calls out to him. 

“Oh no, that’s alright, I can get her myself. I just need to know where she is.” The hen suddenly crows out loudly, and he watches the woman’s face morph into something akin to resignation. “She’s on the roof, isn’t she?” A rumbly chuckle sounds through his modulator before he can’t help himself, finding humor in the situation. 

“I’ll get her to you.” Din offers once more, as he continues his path towards the cottage.

d.d with vulcan!reader

“Hey boss!” Your voice was cheery as it called out to him as Din turned to face you completely. He had hired you a few months ago, given you were brilliant as a mechanic but managed to be the clumsiest person in the Outer Rim that he’s ever met. It was only a couple months in that Din realized his heart had formed its affections for you. So he began the unfamiliar process of courting you. 

Which had been utterly fruitless given your complete inability to take a hint. 

“What is it?” His voice retained mild frustration from his thought process. At this point he wasn’t sure whether to give up or be more blatant about his advances. Even to his annoyed demeanor, you seemed oblivious, walking over with a pep in your step as you held up your hands which revealed your predicament.

t.s.

You could feel the hurt far before you saw it in his eyes. Negative feelings were always the worst to resonate with. While all emotions had their distinguishing factors, the bad ones often followed the similar pattern of crawling up your spine and leaving your throat choked up and eyes warm.

Sometimes, it might’ve been easier not to have this power at all. You wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place without it. 

He followed the sound to the back of the van, unease already forming at the implications. Making sure the back was unlocked first, he went to open it which confirmed his suspicions.

The first thing he noticed were the bruises littered about your skin, and with the blindfold and restraints, you failed to recognize him beyond your captors as you went silent and near still save for your trembling. The sight did wonders to ease his guilt at least. 

Bloody hell.. these were some awful people, Marc.

He grimaced in agreement, but as he’s about to call out to you, he hesitates. Steven might be better for this, he thinks. In the metal of the vehicle, he sees Steven shake his head. 

Go on mate, the longer you take, the more she’ll fret now.

He sighs, “Hey.” You flinch, and he winces at the gruffness of his voice, so he tries again, gentler this time. 

“I took care of the guys who hurt you. I’m gonna let you go now, okay?” Your breathing is still shallow, which concerns him, but he cuts away at your binds the moment you give him the go ahead. 

His touch is light and way too gentle to be any way reminiscent of those who kidnapped you. You can’t help but laugh shakily, just relieved that it’s all over. He pauses at your reaction, and you can tell he’s confused. 

“Sorry, I’m just- I’m so glad they’re finally gone now.” Your voice is hoarser than you expected, making you cringe. But you can’t bring yourself to focus on that when you find your wounds aren’t aching anymore. At last he takes off your blindfolds, it takes you a moment to adjust your eyes and you see him. 

His brows are furrowed with careful concentration along with focused, piercing eyes that would’ve frightened you had you not know he was your savior. But with how intense his gaze was, he almost looked constipated. You stifle a laugh, which gains you more confusion from the man. 

“S-Sorry! Sorry, it’s just that, you look so serious. Do I look that bad?” His expression relaxes a bit, and he lets out a soft huff. Yet when he glances at your bruises, he finds that they aren't as exacerbated as they were before. He wears that silly, serious expression again and you’re tempted to smooth out the wrinkle that forms in his brows. 

Unfortunately, the impulse was immediately acted upon considering your lack of inhibitions from the whole ordeal. But you accomplish your goal when instead, his eyes widen and his expression relaxes under your hand. 

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the fact that with a single brush of your fingertips against his face, he finds fullness in the silence, reprieve with every breath he takes, peace in the moment. He watches you move your hand away when you find yourself, and though you appear embarrassed, he finds himself more so when he realizes how much he misses the contact already. 

“Sorry,” you utter again, “I wasn’t thinking and-” he grabs your hand again with urgency at first. Yet he remembers your condition, and his grasp becomes gentle. The action shocks the two of you, and while Marc is mortified he did that without thinking, he manages to recover from it quickly. 

“You gotta stop apologizing, you know.” Enraptured, you find yourself just nodding along. But again you realize the utter lack of pain you should be feeling. Another glance, and you notice, your bruises are gone. 

“Who are you?” You almost start to think this is some sort of dream. But the weight and warmth of his hand, even the details of the callouses upon his fingertips is just too real to ignore. 

“Marc. Spector.” He clears his throat, “Marc Spector.” He says altogether. A smile forms on your face as you tell him your name in return. 

.

“Marc..”

Steven, I’m not gonna hear it.

“But Marc-”

No, I already told you that this was how it’s gonna go.

They both knew you were something special. After Marc made sure you got home safely that night, the two of you shared contact information because there was a mutual understanding that there was something about the other neither of you could ignore. 

But no matter how much Marc longed to see you again, he was afraid of what you could mean to them. He was resigned to denying himself this chance, so already it took a lot of convincing from Steven to allow even the alter to meet you. 

“Alright, but you’re being a bit of a knob, you know that right?” He watched his reflection roll his eyes, so he frowned right on back as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I just don’t understand why you do this to yourself. It’s not like you’re the only one interested, not to mention, they seemed rather fancied too.” He mutters, trying to fix the stray curl that always managed to find its way back onto his forehead. 

He didn’t miss the hesitation Marc had at that statement, but both parties were distracted by the knocking at the door. 

To be honest, Steven was also quite taken to you after seeing you last. And opening the door to you dressed comfortably and looking at ease in your own skin already has him feeling something more. When you light up at the sight of him, he swears his heart flutters like nothing else before. 

“Steven, right?” The sound of his name from your lips easily brings a smile to his face, and you can easily feel the difference between the two of them.

“Yes! Come on in, love. Apologies for such a late notice, I hope it didn’t trouble you much.” Though the endearment causes you to blush, you shake your head as you enter. 

“No, not at all. I thought it as a good opportunity to meet you also.” You say as if it’s the most natural thing to do, getting acquainted with the other person of the same body. You were so understanding over the phone when he, or rather, Marc,  broke the news to you about his disorder. Rather than respond with apprehension or even any sort of displeasure at the revelation, you were curious, excited even to get to know Steven as much as Marc. The thought comforts him really, and he can’t help but get his hopes up. 

“Well, I’m quite fond of getting to know you too.” He pauses, before giving a cheeky little grin. “You know, Marc has spoken quite well of you since then.”

Steven…

But the man is pleased the mere statement has you flustered and tugging at your sleeves in a nervous habit. “Really? I wasn’t sure I made much of an impression.” 

Even if he had met you on the street, he’s sure he wouldn’t have forgotten you. He has a feeling Marc shares the same sentiment. 

“It’s not often someone can be as lighthearted after what you’ve been through. I only wish we could’ve met you in better circumstances.” He tuts, shaking his head, “But let’s not focus on that, I had a whole bit planned for us today if you’re up for it.” The thoughtfulness pulls a smile onto your face.

“I’d love to.”

. . 

Steven was softer spoken, but that didn’t mean he didn’t talk any less. Honestly, you didn’t mind, considering how excited he’d get about his topics of interest. That paired alongside his cute, little accent basically had you hanging on his every word. It also helped that he took you to the museum, his discounted tickets made it all the more ideal to go to. 

And he was such a darling about it too, always checking in on you to make sure you were enjoying yourself and overly fretting that maybe he was talking your ear off since he has a habit of speaking too much before he realizes it. You quickly shut down the thought by responding you were glad to have your very own, personal tour guide. To add on top of your statement, you made sure to ask a few extra questions just to encourage him to talk. 

Marc was quiet throughout the whole endeavor. After everything that happened in Egypt, he knew it’d be difficult to fall back into their normal routine again. Yet watching Steven talk to you so carefree and at ease, he couldn’t help but be relieved for a moment. But nonetheless, this was more of a date than he’d like it to be. He only acquiesced because he warned Steven to keep the distance, but right off the bat the man did and said what he wished. Damn Steven for getting so confident after everything, no matter how much it made him proud. Even so, he didn’t force his way to fronting either because he didn’t know if he had the courage to deny you. So he was left to watch, more jealous than he’d ever admit. 

“You mind if I ask a weird question?"” He blinked, not expecting it but quickly nodded to not allow you to shy away. 

“I don’t mind at all, it’s just been me speaking this whole lot anyways.” He gives a quick laugh. “What is it, love?” 

“How exactly do you talk to Marc? I mean, you are sharing the same body and everything.” That surprised him, and he glanced at the reflective plaque as if expecting Marc to respond. The man only shrugged, pretending not to care. “Sorry, was that too much of me?” He shook his head immediately.

“Of course not, you could never be.” He blurted, becoming embarrassed. “Er, what I mean is that it’s a perfectly reasonable question.” He scratched the back of his head, “It’s a little strange to admit, but he’s sorta my reflection.” He watches you look around to try finding the nearest reflective surface and he can’t help but laugh at how cute that is. 

“Hey.” You mock frown, but you’re secretly pleased to see the twinkle of delight in his eyes as he looks at you. You wouldn’t mind if he looked at you like that everyday. “Can you see him now?” 

Don’t tell her, Steven.

He nods, although curious, “Why do you ask?” 

“I have something I want to tell him.” You reply without hesitation, still trying to keep an eye out for anywhere with reflections. You do notice a particularly shiny pillar, but you think it’s rather far to hold a conversation with. But then that makes you wonder, do they have to talk aloud to communicate? “I mean, that is, if he can hear me.” 

“Yeah he can. You know he’s been off and grumpy in this plaque here for quite a while now. Think the lad’s jealous is what it is.” He taps on the piece of metal to further point it out. 

Steven! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you that you weren’t supposed to mention me at-

“Hey Marc?” You’re looking straight at the plaque, and for a moment, Marc swears you can actually see him then and there. “Thank you. I don’t think I ever got the chance to tell you that night, but I’m really glad I got to meet you and Steven.” And then you smile, and though it should be impossible since he’s not fronting, the sight takes his breath away. 

When you turn back to Steven, you see the fondest expression on his face that makes your face warm. He’s amazed by you is why he’s having such a goofy smile— the kind that stretches his lips and forms a little wrinkle on the edges of his cheeks. He remembers how you didn’t even question it when he told you Marc wasn’t going to see you today, only understanding that the man had his reasons. 

Tell her I just did my job that night.

His eyes widen and he looks at the reflection. You looked curious, “Did he say something?” Even Marc is looking back at him with surprise as well. 

I.. forget I said anything. 

“Yes, actually.” He sees Marc’s lips downturn to a frown. “He’s glad to have met you as well. I am the same.” Your blush starts to become quite visible, pleasing him as it seems to cause Marc to be at a loss for words. 

A sudden growl stuns the both of you, and he gets all bashful then. “Ah, that ruined the moment didn’t it? What a shame.” He laughs, lightly patting his stomach. “It seems I’m a bit peckish now, hm? Are you alright in finding some takeaway and ending the date at my flat?” He blinks when you look at him with a stunned look on your face. “S-Sorry! That was too forward of me wasn’t it?” Taking a deep breath, you feel emboldened to act up as well. 

Reaching out, you carefully take his hand into yours, and give him a cheeky little grin. “Only if you’re alright with me doing the same.” Both his eyes and mouth are wide with shock, and he flounders for words which brings you to laugh. “Ah! I don’t mean to laugh, you just look so cute right now.” 

It feels as if time slows down then. This man who you’ve barely known for a day and some already makes you feel such affection for him. With the way he looks at you, he makes it perfectly clear that he feels the same way. The deep browns of his eyes have you mesmerized, and you catch him glancing down to your lips for a split second. He slowly starts leaning in, and you’re just about to reach up to cup his face when something in his gaze flickers and he pauses. 

“Let’s go get dinner then.” That American accent. 

Marc ends up leading you out of the museum, but you make sure to take note that while he did pull back, he never did let go of your hand on the way out. 

. . . 

He didn’t say much after getting the food or even getting settled down in the flat. He did reply to any inquiries you made with soft noises of acknowledgement, but hardly went beyond a ‘yes’. It astonished you truly how different the two men were. As you watched him walk about his kitchen, the way he carried himself was more confident, with straighter posture while he shuffled about silently. You helped him set up the food, and he didn’t even question it beyond a curious glance as he handed you utensils and napkins. The whole scene felt too domestic, and you could barely hold back a smile at the thought. 

“I had fun today.” He grunts with a nod. When he had first done so, you had taken it a little apprehensively, especially due to the sudden contrast from Steven. But with the crinkle in his brow that formed from concern, you knew that wasn’t his intention. You figured that he didn’t know how to respond, yet didn’t want to make you think he wasn’t listening. It was his way of showing he was indeed hearing you, and you found that sweet. You slowly open your box, blowing at the steam that puffed out. “I’m glad that I also get the chance to spend some time with you too.” You added on quietly as an afterthought. 

He froze which was made pointedly clear as he fumbled with his own box that tapped against the table. Nervous, you realized. That’s why he was so quiet. He slowly nodded, and not to embarrass him further with the silence, you thanked him for the food and quickly dug in. 

Which was a mistake because it was piping hot. 

The table jolted as you flinched. Your tongue burned, and you barely were able to swallow down the bite much to your discomfort. Marc shot up in alarm, and made his way next to you in a couple of strides, and his hands rose to hover over you worriedly. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” His voice was low, but it hardly hid how concerned he was. His eyes were scanning the food carefully as if it were an active threat, and you waved your hand to hopefully ward off his fears. 

“H-Hot.” You scrunch your face at the pain that rushes through your mouth from speaking. He kneels to get closer to you, a hand reaching up to your face to cradle it and assess the damage. When you open your eyes, he’s barely inches away. 

The crease in his brow was deepened, pressing down and shadowing his eyes and he was too preoccupied to notice the proximity. With his hand so close, you could feel the heat of him radiate off of it. You felt just as mesmerized when you first met him, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It was only then that he noticed the position and felt his breath stutter. 

But your own brows furrowed when you realized your tongue didn’t hurt at all. You gasped, immediately reactivating his protective mode, but you reached up to rest your hand on top of his. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He blinks. “My tongue.” Further confusion and you laughed. “Sorry- er, I mean- Well, it’s not just that. I forgot to mention also that night, you made my bruises go away too.” There’s a spark of recognition and he nods. “How’d you do that?” 

“I don’t know.” His gaze glances to where your bruises were, his gaze darkening from the memory. “It’s not something I can do.” Yet when you lightly brush your thumb over his knuckles, the tension is relieved from his face and he feels himself go still under your touch. “You affect me somehow too.” He says before he can think which makes him cringe. “I didn’t mean it like-” he sighs, “I don’t know how to explain it.” 

“As if I could trust you with my whole life despite barely knowing you.” He stares at you, a little too long that makes you think you’ve said something wrong for a moment until he leans in closer. 

“I didn’t mean to front today.” He pauses, looking away as he tries to find his words. “To be honest, I wanted to avoid you, but after seeing you talk with Steven, I..” he trails off, sighing as his eyes eventually find their way back to yours. 

For a moment he looks small. Eyes filled with uncertainty, but even so, you manage to see a glimmer of hope. His voice gets somehow quieter as he barely murmurs, “Can I?” And you know he’s referring back to your statement. Your hand falls from his, causing his heart to start sinking. But then you lean in, touching your forehead against his as your hand ends up resting on his shoulder. 

“I would trust you.” Your breath fans over his lips from the proximity, and his eyelids flutter to lay half-lidded. 

Since he left the museum, Steven had been talking at him almost nonstop from the takeout to the flat, even as he got ready to eat with you. He wasn’t responding as he should, he wasn’t honest with himself, he stole you away from your lovely time with Steven. And Marc knew that, but you didn’t make a single complaint. You smiled at him. And every sweet word that fell from your lips, he knew in his heart you meant it. You were happy to be with him just as much as Steven.

The alter in question went completely silent as his lips made contact with yours. And while envious to some extent, he was also relieved. Marc had finally allowed himself some good; he had found his peace with you.

The day wasn't particularly windy, but your hair decided to fall all over your face, the sensation grating on your nerves more than usual. You felt a step behind your body and all you could focus on was your breathing.

Too quick, too shallow. Slow down and take in more air before you cry. Since when were you on the verge tears? You could've sworn you were fine just a second-

The rush of a car passing by made you freeze up, the only evidence that it was there in the first place was the breeze that mussed your hair further and the faint resonance of its engine rumbling in the distance.

That gave you away because your stopping caused you to tug Steven back a bit, especially as your grip tightened on his hand.

"Love? Is everything alright?"

The action hardly caused him to stumble, but when he turned around to look at you, his eyebrows knit together and his posture stiffened; the traits that gave away the fronting of Marc.

"What's wrong?"

He took a step closer, his head tilting down to align himself with your line of sight. You really tried to focus on him, but your eyes refused you and stared off into the distance blurrily instead.

"Deep breaths, we're almost home. We still need to figure out what we're gonna eat for dinner, remember? Can you try coming up with ideas for me?"

He gently squeezed your hand, reminding you to answer with another nod. He began walking again, but this time, he didn't let you leave his line of sight.

The rest of the commute was a blur, and you were standing in the middle of his flat, watching Marc hang up his coat and roll up his sleeves while you stood still, unable to bring yourself to move. But he came up to you, lightly tugging your jacket off and putting it away for you.

"Did you come up with something?"

There was only patience in his gaze although you knew how long your response took.

"We still have some pre-made stock and vegetables in the fridge."

Your gaze drifted along the small kitchen, seeing the half-sliced loaf of bread in its box. Words failed to keep cooperating with you so you pointed to it instead.

"Soup and bread sounds good. Can you wash the veggies for me?"

He led you to the fridge, and this time you were able to take the initiative by opening the door and taking out the bag of stale growing but still edible vegetables. You found your way to the sink, pushing up the handle and pulling out the vegetables as the water ran cold.

It was like watching outside of your body as your hands moved without your thinking, mindlessly rinsing and putting aside carrots, potatoes, miscellaneous. You noticed Marc taking out a pot as silently as he could to not disturb you. When he took the clean pile you'd created, he mumbled a soft thanks as he started chopping them into smaller pieces.

The rest of the cooking followed similarly. Marc gave you easy instructions of pouring in the stock or stirring the pot, while he handled the more dangerous aspects of using the knife and likewise.

The noises weren't intrusive, just soothing repetition of the water bubbling or the gentle clinking of the ladle against the metal of the pot. Soon enough the hearty scent of the soup filled the air, making it a little easier to breathe.

You felt a warm hand envelop yours, raising it to rougher lips that faintly pressed against your palm. The earthly browns of his eyes bore deep into your own, and the sight along made your heart tremble because it made you realize: he knew.

His thumb wiped away the wet streaks sliding down your cheek as he guided you close to him.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're alive and safe, and everything's gonna be alright."

Your lip trembled, but you let your head fall into his chest, finding it easier not to give into the thoughts that would normally run rampant in your skull.

"I'm not going anywhere."

With that, you were able to keep breathing steadily.