cappydoodle

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [8] - Scorching

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The morning after can be peaceful.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

There was a reason why you kept telling everyone you couldn’t do casual. You had tried it numerous times, and every single time you ended up getting attached but this?

With Logan?

This was a whole different level.

When the alarm pulled you out of the deep haze of sleep, it took you a couple of seconds to be able to even lift your arm to grab your phone. Your whole body felt sore in the most pleasant way as you pulled back from the warmth and rolled to your side to check the time on the screen before hitting snooze, and while you were more than ready to fall back to sleep, the urge disappeared immediately the moment you heard Logan’s groan.

It was almost insane how you were still hungry for him. The dawn was breaking by the time you had fallen asleep -to be honest, you were quite sure you had passed out- but as soon as you turned around and your eyes fell on him, the spark of the familiar fire of desire shot through you, making your lips curl into a smile. He ran a hand over his eyes as if trying to get rid of any trace of sleep before he lowered his hand to smirk at you.

“Morning,” you said softly and he pulled you closer to himself and cupped your cheek to brush his lips against yours, coaxing a sigh out of you.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You could feel your heart skipping a beat at his morning voice and you rested your chin on his chest, fiddling with the dog tags hanging from the chain around his neck as he brushed his knuckles against your cheekbone.

“Feeling okay?”

“More than okay,” you said and thought for a moment. “I’ll have to ask if Jamie knows someone who can teach me how to walk again but zero regrets.”

A chuckle vibrated deep in his chest and you beamed at him, turning the tags in your hand. He ran his fingertips up and down your spine, awakening goosebumps on your skin and you pecked him on the lips but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you back so that he could kiss you again. He rolled over so that he could get on top of you, making you let out a happy squeal before the loud alarm of your phone went off again and you hit snooze once more.

“Call in sick,” Logan murmured and you tried to focus, scratching at the nape of his neck softly but before you could say anything, his phone started vibrating somewhere on the floor-you were guessing in his jean pockets. He dropped his head to the croak of your neck, making you giggle.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“Nope.”

“But it could be important.”

You could almost feel his smirk. “I swear to you, nothing is more important than this.”

“Someone could be dying!”

“They should find a doctor then.”

“Logan!” you exclaimed, pushing at his broad shoulders and he lifted his head with a sigh, then grabbed his phone off the floor with a sigh. You toyed with the tags swinging above your face as he looked down at you with a fond light in his eyes before dipping his head to give you a small kiss on the lips, then answered the phone.

“What do you want?”

Your jaw dropped as you squeezed at his hand beside your head.

“Be nice!”

He shook his head slightly, his brows pulling into a frown.

“Find someone else,” he told the person on the other line and rolled his eyes. “I’m not at the mansion right now Scott, I can’t go up to the roof—” he stopped talking as Scott said something you couldn’t hear, making his frown deepen. “How the fuck do you know where I am?”

You tilted your head to the left while he heaved a furious sigh, then gritted his teeth.

“Just wait there,” he snapped and hung up, a growl rumbling in his chest before he cleared his throat and put the phone down.

“I’m really sorry princess,” he said softly, turning to you. “I…I’m going to kill Scott, but I gotta go.”

The change in his tone almost gave you a whiplash. You knew he was annoyed, if not angry at Scott, but there was no trace of that snappy tone he used with him when he spoke to you; instead his voice was gentle, and held none of that sharp edge it held just a moment ago. You could feel a smile curling your lips and you nodded your head.

“No problem,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“He brought the jet here.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, waiting on the roof right now.”

“This roof?”

“This roof,” he said. “I have no idea how he knew where I was.”

You grabbed his phone and waved it at him. “This maybe?”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“Right,” he muttered before kissing you on the lips and you giggled, cupping his cheek before pulling back to look up at him.

“Your friends are waiting,” you told him and he heaved a sigh, then pecked you again and got off of you to grab his clothes. You let your eyes roam his naked body hungrily while he put his clothes on but as soon as you rolled over to his side, you felt the significant dip that made you frown before the memory hit you.

You—

Oh.

You had in fact broken the bed last night.

You pulled yourself to the edge of the bed to hang down halfway, trying to see under the bed and you reached down to feel underneath the frame where it had broken but Logan stopped you.

“Don’t, it’ll cut you,” he said and reached down before you felt the unmistakable sound of metal bending into its place.

“Oops,” you said with a giggle and he smirked at you, crouching down to get to your level while you rested your chin on your hand, still on the edge of the bed.

“It should be good for now,” he said. “I’ll fix it when I get back, okay sweetheart?”

You nodded your head, beaming up at him.

“When will you be back?” you asked, your voice soft and he stole a kiss from your lips, his fingers caressing your hair.

“Scott seems to think it’ll take the whole weekend and if we’re not back on Monday, I’ll leave him there and come back.”

“You would never.”

“I might,” he muttered, making you let out a small laugh.

“But seriously, it’s fine,” you insisted. “I’m going to be with Theo whole weekend, it’s not as if we’d be able to see each other until Monday.”

He paused as if he hadn’t considered that before nodding his head.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

“See you on Monday then,” you said with a smile and he pecked you on the lips, then pressed a kiss on the top of your bed and straightened his back.

“Be careful, please?”

“Always am,” you said. “And you too.”

He shot you a smirk before walking out of the room and you heard the front door open before it closed again and you heaved a sigh, then rolled onto your back and smiled to yourself. You pressed your fingertips on your lips, then attempted to sit up but your eyes widened as all your muscles protested, and you took a deep breath.

“Moving slow today,” you muttered to yourself. “So worth it.”

                                        *

You’d always liked weekends but ever since Theo had started attending the school for the gifted, weekends was becoming your favorite time of the week. You missed Theo so terribly from Monday to Friday, so every weekend you tried to make sure he was happy to be home. You would take him on picnics, to movies, to wherever he wanted to see and always made sure to cook and bake his favorites so that when he went back to school, he knew he still had a home to go back to whenever he wanted.

So, your weekend with Theo had gone well. You took him to a new exhibition in one of his favorite museums and had a documentary night at home with his favorite snacks, as it was your tradition before he started school.

He was also beyond happy to have Cheeto and Popcorn. He had hugged you and told you that you were the best mom ever, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make the tears rush to your eyes.

When Monday arrived and you dropped him off to school, you had texted Logan but apparently he still wasn’t back. You could almost hear him grumbling about it even if it was on text, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed, but you knew you had to go to work anyway so the best-case scenario you would be seeing him in the evening even if he were back.

But apparently, Theo had forgotten his book home so after work, you had to drop by home and drive to his school to drop it off.

“So,” Julie’s voice reached you from the speaker of the phone as you kept your eyes on the road. “Is Mr. Break Your Bed gonna be there?”

“I don’t think so,” you said with a small grin. “I texted him but he hasn’t seen it yet. And either way, he probably won’t be back by the midnight, so…”

“Maybe a midnight visit then?”

“I mean I don’t want to be pushy but…” you trailed off. “I hope so. Can you have withdrawals when it comes to sex? Because I’m pretty sure I’m having withdrawals.”

“It’s barely Monday evening,” she said. “You’re not having withdrawals, you’re just horny.”

“Julie, that night changed me,” you said. “I’m a changed woman now.”

“I’m happy for you but how about we slow down for a moment?”

“I think at some point my soul left my body.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It was floating in space or something.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“I saw myself in an alternate universe and she was also with Logan.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Julie—”

 “I’m really proud of you for having orgasms but at the risk of sounding like Jamie,” she cut you off. “You need to take a deep breath and calm down for a moment. I don’t care how good he is in bed, let’s keep in mind that he’s still just a guy.”

“I am calm.”

“You’re not calm,” she said. “We’re on family account so I know you listened to Crazy in Love - Fifty Shades of Grey remix on loop all night last night.”

“I was making a trailer for me and Logan in my head.”

“Which doesn’t fall under the category of being calm.”

You took a deep breath, lazily turning the steering wheel.

“You know how much I support you getting laid,” Julie said. “But let’s not put the guy up on a pedestal just because he’s great in bed. Please?”

“I’m not doing that,” you said, your voice coming out way too petulant. “It’s just…you know, I’m happy.”

“And that makes me happy,” she assured you. “I promise you. But I don’t want you to get hurt, so let’s go slow with this whole thing with Logan.”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah I know,” you said as you pulled over, looking up at the mansion. “Gotta go, I’ll call you?”

“Okay!”

“Love you!”

“Love you too sunshine,” she said and hung up, and you grabbed your phone off the holder before stepping out of the car. You knew Logan wasn’t there, but you still felt your heart skipping a happy beat and made your way into the mansion.

Considering it was late in the evening, Theo and the most of the younger students had to have gone to bed, and you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep just to give him his book. Some of the older students were around so you stopped the closest guy and smiled at him.

“Um, hi.”

His eyes widened as he looked at you, then he looked up at the ceiling as if forcing himself to drag his gaze away.

“Hi miss—ma’am,” he said and you tilted your head.

“Uh, are you okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he stammered. “I just have been told not to even look at…how—how may I help you?”

“I was wondering where Professor X is,” you said even though you were confused about why he refused to look at you. “I’ll give him Theo’s book, I’m his mom.”

“I know,” he said. “I can give it to him tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Oh that’d be wonderful, thank you!” you said as he took the book from you and you frowned.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Caleb!” someone called out and he turned his head, then nodded.

“I’d better go,” he said. “Uh, see you around—or not! Not see you around, I’ll just…” he waved his hand vaguely before walking away from you in a hurry, and you leaned on your hip.

“Well that was weird,” you muttered to yourself and turned around to make your way through the hallway but as soon as you turned the corner, someone pulled you by the arm, making you let out a squeal before you saw who it was, your heartbeat getting faster in a second.

Logan.

He had to have just stepped out of the shower judging by his wet hair. His hazel eyes was shining with that fond light they always held whenever he looked at you, making your chest feel all warm as a smile curled his lips.

“Hi princess.”

“Hi!” you chirped, smiling wide at him, painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him. “You’re back!”

He hummed, dipping his head to pull you into a kiss and you heaved a pleasant sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck when his arm sneaked around your waist to press your body to his.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said when you pulled back to look up at him and he stroked your cheekbone.

“Arrived like half an hour ago,” he said. “I heard your voice when I stepped out of the shower. What are you doing here?”

“Theo forgot his book,” you said. “I texted you actually, but…”

“My phone died,” he mumbled apologetically and you let out a laugh.

“Why do I get the feeling you and technology don’t get along well?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Maybe.”

“How was the mission?”

“It was good,” he said. “Missed you though.”

Happiness bloomed in your chest, making you beam at him. “Did you?”

He hummed and stole another kiss from you, entwining his fingers with yours before stepping back and tugging at your hand.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He shot you a playful smile, making your stomach do a happy flip.

“Well, like I said, I missed you,” he said, pulling you to himself to peck you on the lips again. “And my room is closer than your place.”

                                                   *

Okay.

Well—

Perhaps you weren’t exactly going slow.

Perhaps sex with Logan was making you plan your future cabin in the woods but as long as you kept it to yourself, you figured it was fine.

You had no idea what time you had fallen asleep but when you woke up to your stomach growling, it was still midnight. You looked up at Logan’s sleeping figure before smiling to yourself, and very carefully moved in the bed but as soon as you turned around, Logan threw an arm over your waist to pull you back to him.

“Where are you going?” he muttered into your hair, his voice still sleepy and you let out a giggle, squeezing at his arm.

“Burning energy leads to hunger, strange as it sounds,” you said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

You could hear his smirk; “Nah, I ate.”

A fire spread over your face as you pulled the pillow from under your head to smack it on his arm, making him chuckle.

“Want me to get you something?” he asked and you thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“I don’t know what I want, so I’ll check the kitchen,” you said as you sat up in the bed and grabbed your dress but tilted your head when you saw the broken zipper. You raised your brows and held it up, throwing a look at him over your shoulder and he held up his hands.

“Sorry about that.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

You scrunched up your nose at him, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m so stealing your clothes tomorrow before going to my place,” you told him and grabbed his shirt to put it on, then got up from the bed despite your muscles protesting every single movement. He got up as well and got into his jeans then followed you out of the room.

It was clear that everyone was asleep, the hallway completely dark and empty, and you smiled when Logan threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. Entwining your fingers with his, you let him lead you to the kitchen downstairs and as soon as you took a step to the fridge, he slapped your butt, making you whirl around with a gasp.

“People are sleeping!” you whispered, pointing a finger at him while trying your hardest not to laugh, then opened the fridge door to see what was inside. You hummed, then took out some bread, butter and cheese and held them up.

“You want some grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Sure,” he said with a soft smile on his face and you nodded, then kicked the fridge door close to make your way to the counter.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” you said. “I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Yeah?” he asked, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, dipping his head to bury his nose to the crook of your neck. A giggle escaped from your lips as you fidgeted in his arms.

“Logan!”

“You smell so good.”

“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, cutting the cheese. “We’ve been um…busy for hours.”

You could feel his smirk against your skin; “Busy?”

“Stop,” you chided him lightheartedly, your cheeks burning a little as you held up a piece of cheese over your shoulder for him to bite it. You popped the rest into your mouth, then looked around.

“Where’s the pan?”

“It’s—” Logan started, but raised his head to look behind him, making you frown.

“What?”

“You don’t want Theo to know yet, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s awake, coming here,” he muttered, stepping back from you and you frowned but before you could ask anything, you heard the familiar footsteps.

Uh oh.

Any observer would’ve been able to tell what was happening, considering Logan was only in his jeans, and you were in his flannel but Theo was still little and you hadn’t brought anyone home before so you knew he wouldn’t be able to understand. Either way, you fixed your hair hurriedly and threw your shoulders back when Theo appeared at the entrance, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses with his fist, then he lowered his hand to pull his brows together.

“Mommy?”

“Bean!” you said breathlessly and smiled at him. “Hi. Why are you awake?”

Theo blinked a couple of times as if trying to focus, then fixed his glasses, his lips pulled into a pout.

“What are you doing here?”

You exchanged glances with Logan who was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, then you turned to Theo.

“I brought your book and the car broke down so I decided to spend the night here,” you lied. “You were already asleep when I got here. What are you doing up?”

“I was thirsty,” he said through his pout and Logan filled a glass of water to give it to you so that you could give it to Theo. “Hi Mr. Logan.”

“Hi bub.”

Theo downed the water and gave the glass back to you, then hugged your legs with a small whine. You smiled to yourself and lifted him up for him to wrap his arms and legs around you like a little koala, and leaned his head to your chest with a yawn.

“Want me to carry him to bed?” Logan asked and Theo frowned, then shook his head, holding onto you tighter.

“We get a bit cranky when we’re sleepy,” you whispered to Logan and pressed a kiss on top of Theo’s hair. “It’s fine, right bean?”

Theo nodded quietly.

“His room is—”

“Down the hallway, I know,” you told Logan with a smile. “Be right back.”

You walked out of the kitchen with Theo in your arms, humming an old song that used to put Theo to sleep when he was a baby. He mumbled something in his sleep and you reached the half open door of his room, then pushed it to step in.

Theo having a room to himself wasn’t something you had thought about when you enrolled him but when you came to pick him up at the end of his first week, Professor X had informed you that it was a precaution, after all Theo still didn’t know how to control his very destructive powers so it was both for his safety and the other students’. You could see his books on the table and his animal drawings on the walls, as well as him in a superhero suit. You repressed a smile, then gently put him down on his bed and pulled the covers over him.

“Mommy?”

“Yes my love?” you whispered, stroking over his hair before taking his glasses off to put them on his bedside table. Theo yawned.

“I had a dream about Cheeto and Popcorn.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm,” he said drowsily. “They’re friends right? Best friends?”

You smiled to yourself.

“They are,” you said. “And they love you.”

 Theo hugged his pillow tighter, already half asleep. “Love you mommy.”

“Love you too bean,” you said, pressing a kiss on his forehead before pulling back to see whether he could hear you but he was deep asleep already. You smiled to yourself and heaved a sigh, then made your way back to the kitchen where Logan was already turning the sandwich in the pan on the stove.

“Hottest chef I’ve ever seen,” you joked as you jumped to sit on the counter and he gave you a smile.

“I doubt making grilled sandwich counts as being a chef.”

“It totally does,” you told him and he put it on a plate, then put it in your lap.

“Here.”

“Yay!” you said and took a bite, then closed your eyes. “Ugh, I love bread.”

Logan chuckled, making you open your eyes as you chewed on your bite, then swallowed it.

“You’re great with him, you know?” Logan asked and you pulled your brows together in confusion before the realization dawned on you.

“With Theo?” you asked and let out a small laugh. “Well, comes with the territory.”

“Not at all,” Logan said. “Not every parent is like that.”

A bright smile lit up your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “For saying that. It means more than you know. Half of the time I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Logan said. “He’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile widening and he nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“Good,” you said. “I mean his happiness is the most important thing for me. Everything else comes secondary to that, even myself which is…not something I thought was possible before.”

That soft light was shining in his eyes again and you took a deep breath, then scrunched up your nose.

“Sorry,” you said as you put down the sandwich in the plate. “This is the part where people get scared.”

He hummed, leaning his hands on either side of you, caging you in, making your heart skip a happy beat and a mischievous smirk curled his lips.

“Do I strike you as a man who gets scared?” he asked and a small giggle climbed up your throat.

“No,” you admitted. “But…”

“But?”

“But I’d get it if you did.”

He shook his head, his hazel gaze locked in yours.

“Not gonna happen.”

You could feel the warmth spreading from your chest to your whole body and you leaned in to press a feathery kiss on his lips.

“Good,” you managed to say. “I happen to like having you around, and your cooking skills aren’t so bad.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Could use some more practice but I figure two hundred years is a bit early to learn and—Logan!” you squealed as he took the plate to put it beside you on the counter, then pulled you to himself, making you slide on the counter, a laugh escaping from you before you covered your mouth.

“People are sleeping!” you reminded him again and he shrugged his shoulders, that irresistible smile curling his lips again.

“Well,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you again as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a pleasant sigh. “Guess you’re gonna have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

[sonknuxadow]

im actually really worried about the knuckles series im so scared wade being a main character is gonna ruin it somehow . if they were gonna have one of the human characters be a co protagonist with knuckles it should have been maddie im not sorry for saying it

[thebuttsmcgee]

"If you expected something more than a cop buddy road trip that's on you/It's great for non sonic fans, sonic fans should just lighten up/thisll really piss off the sonic fans/it's about furry little guys so don't take it so seriously/it's good if you watch it for the comedy but not for sonic stuff/its at least fun to watch sonic fans hate this" idk just throw rocks at my head next time instead of saying this

[lalunalando]

White Knuckles - LN4

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warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, swearing, degradation if you squint, public, sex (p in v), fluff if you close one eye

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Another bad race weekend.

Another missed win because of shitty team strategy.

Lando was frustrated beyond belief after the Australian GP, sure he got another podium for the team so it’s not like it was the end of the world, but it was only 3rd place.

The top step belonged to his best friend and former teammate, Carlos Sainz, and he was more than happy to share the podium with him, in fact he preferred the comfort of having Carlos up there, but the issue was there were 3 spots up there on the podium.

Lando deserved the win, or even 2nd, but he was on the 3rd tier.

Behind the fucking red bull princess at her home race of all people.

Entering his regular gym back home in Monaco, all Lando wanted to do was work off the frustration.

He wanted to train until his brain turned to mush, his muscles hurt and he wasn’t thinking about HER anymore.

It’s not like he hated her, not really, but they’ve had a competitive rivalry since they competed as teammates in the lower formula series together.

Lando got his seat in F1 first, with McLaren picking him up in 2019 after seeing “immeasurable talent” in him, and he would never even dream of leaving the team that became a home for him.

But her? She might have started in F1 after him, but she was the Australian red bull golden girl from the moment she stepped foot into the paddock in 2021.

They called her “the viper” because on track she would strike fast at any gap she could take, and off track she was even quicker to bite back at media and gossip.

But to everyone who knew her outside of the media, to the fans she met and the people she worked with in the paddock, she was the sweetest person you’d ever meet.

And Lando hated how she had everyone wrapped around her finger, him secretly included.

Shoving his belongings into his locker and his headphones over his ears, he tries to push the thoughts of her out of his mind.

Her above him on the podium, her above him in bed, he couldn’t be thinking of his biggest rival on the grid like this.

His gym playlist blasting through the headphones, distracting him as he walks out of the locker room towards the weights, only stopping in his tracks when he sees her.

Running on the treadmill, zoned out listening to music, wearing a sports bra barely holding anything in and a pair of gym shorts small enough that they should be banned from being worn in public.

“So much for trying to stop thinking about her” he huffed quietly before making eye contact in the reflection of the giant gym mirror situated in front of the treadmill she was currently occupying.

Sweat glistening on her skin, an unimpressed look on her face with a hint of mischief behind her eyes as she made eye contact with him. Oh, he was so fucked.

“Norris, what a displeasure” She acknowledged his presence, slowly stopping the treadmill.

“Yeah well the feelings mutual” He responded with a roll of his eyes.

Seeing as it was a Tuesday, the gym was currently shared by only the two rivals.

All she did was smirk before putting her headphones back on and starting up the treadmill once again.

Huffing in annoyance, Lando turned towards the weights bench to start his workout. At least he could focus on that to distract himself from his biggest frustration sharing what he thought would be his safe space for a few hours.

Setting up for his first reps, he couldn’t help at peak at her through the mirrors reflection. Why did all these walls have to be giant mirrors, and why did she have to be here right now.

Lando got to work on his strength training, from bicep curls to weighted hip thrusts, he put all his energy into focusing on his workout. He had enough frustration from his disappointing race to fuel the fire within him, but what no one knew is that there was another type of frustration brewing inside the Brit.

Lando hadn’t been very active in the social scene lately, putting it down to “being too busy focusing on the upcoming races” to anyone who asked, but there was another factor at play.

A factor involving a few too many drinks after a successful double papaya podium, and the race winner who was currently inhabiting the gym with him, who denies remembering the night ever happened.

Finally breaking focus for a second, Lando decided to look in the mirrors reflection for a peak, what was the harm in a little look?

You were red in the face, almost looking like you would pass out at any moment as you pushed yourself harder and harder on the treadmill.

This concerned Lando immediately when he saw the state you were in, stopping his workout to go check on you.

“You know, it’s only us here, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone right now” he says as he approaches her side

Pausing her treadmill again and taking her headphones off to hear him, she takes a moment to catch her breath.

“Sorry Norris what was that? Some of us are trying to train here not just chat” she says with a huff

Lando doesn’t miss the way her chest rises and falls as she tries to bring back a normal breathing pattern, reminding him of how she looked that night after they-

“Hello earth to alien, did you need something or are you just being annoying?” She waved her hand infront of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I was just saying you should take a break, you have nothing to prove in here, no need to push yourself to near blackout” He responded with another roll of his eyes.

“Some of us have very strict training regimes we need to stick to actually, if you want to be the best you have to train the best. The team said I was a starting to look a bit out of shape so they upped my training, no big deal.” She states matter-of-factly as she wipes some sweat off her body with her gym towel.

Out of shape? What were red bull on about? She was more in shape than 98% of the grid, having appearance pressure already constantly placed on her, so where the fuck was this coming from.

“You realise how insane that sounds right?” He scoffs

All she can do is tilt her head in response, confused by what he could even mean by that.

“You can’t seriously think they’re right, i mean, you’re literally one of the smallest people on the grid, and I’m not just talking about you and Yuki’s height” he continues.

Wrong time for her to be taking a mouthful of water, because that mouthful ended up all over Lando.

“LANDO, YOU CAN’T VIOLATE YUKI LIKE THAT” she bursts out in laughter.

“Well you just violated me by spitting your water all over me” he retorts, joining in laughing.

“Oh my god I’m sorry, here take my towel”

”no don’t worry, i was sweating anyway” he waves her off before taking his shirt off to dab himself down.

If she hadn’t been flushed red before, she certainly was now as she watched the way his slight abs glistened from sweat and now water under the gym lighting.

Admittedly the red in her cheeks when he had walked over wasn’t entirely from her workout, she would never openly admit it but she had taken a peak at him working out and felt flustered after watching how much weight he was lifting during his hip thrusts, making her mind run wild at the thought of how easy he could throw her around.

She couldn’t tell him that though, she couldn’t tell anyone.

Being the first female on the grid was an honor, getting to pave the way for future females in the sport, she would do anything to prove her worth.

But it had major downsides too, mostly her appearance always being under the microscope and always judged, but also the way she interacted with the other drivers.

The worst being her own teammate, they were very fortunate to get along as well as they did and becoming fast friends when she joined the team to partner him, but it meant that every friendly interaction they had got psycho-analyzed by fans and suddenly the rumor mill ran wild with stories of her “only having a seat because she was sleeping with her teammate” or “Max Verstappen cheating on his girlfriend with overly seductive teammate.”

Lando had almost fought Max once, getting so jealous that he couldn’t stop himself after a few shots for confidence.

Lando didn’t miss the way her eyes glazed over as she tried to check him out ever so subtly, causing a smirk to erupt on his face.

“Whatcha thinking about viper? You look a little red”

“Don’t flatter yourself Norris, I’m still just overheated from running” you tried to brush it off while stepping off the treadmill, rolling your eyes at him in the process.

“If you keep rolling your eyes at me baby, I’ll make them roll for another reason”

That stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh come on pretty girl, surely you’ve got some smart ass response to that” he pushed, bringing his hand up to move the piece of hair that had fallen infront of her eyes before trailing the back of his hand across her cheek and down her neck, continuing his flirtatious torture.

“No i was just thinking how funny it was that you think you could ever make my eyes roll, missionary doesn’t do it for me” she smirked back finally

“Funny, because i remember you begging me to let you cu-“ before he could finish his sentence, she was shoving his hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Lando be so fucking for real right now, this” she said with wide eyes while pointing between the two of them “never happened okay?”

“If you really don’t remember, maybe I should give you a reminder” he smirked, before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the locker room before she could respond.

As soon as she was through the door behind him, he had her pushed against it as he fumbled to find the little lock on the door, his lips immediately on her neck.

“Lando we can’t, what if someone walks in” she whimpers as his hands glide around her rib cage before sliding down to grasp at her ass.

“So what? They see how pretty you look with your lips wrapped around my cock? How no one can ever make you cum like i can? Such a shame” he teased

“No Lando wait I’m serious, i can’t risk another scandal go around, you won’t cop shit for it like i will.” She said, placing her hands on his chest to push him off lightly.

“Is that the only thing stopping you right now?” He asked, finally understanding her a little more, understanding why she always denied their night together.

“I’m not blind Lan, i can admit to finding you attractive amongst how much you annoy me, but i can’t risk it” she responded with a sad laugh.

Without a second thought he grabbed her hand again and pulled her further into the room, towards the shower cubicles before shoving her into one and locking the door behind them, brushing past her to turn the shower on.

“Lan what are you-“

”You can still say no if you want to, but no one will catch us in here. The shower will muffle the sound and we may as well wash up since clearly neither of us are going back to working out now” he said, squeezing her hand to reassure her.

”no one will catch us” she said with soft eyes

“I’ll keep you safe” he responded before smashing his lips to hers.

Very quickly, they were stripping out of their gym wear before Lando backed them into the running water, turning so her back was against the wall.

Hands roaming over her now naked body, he couldn’t believe he was getting the chance to do this again.

His lips attached to her neck, and she couldn’t help the soft moans that slipped past her lips at how good it felt.

Hearing the pretty noises already spilling out from just a few bites, Lando couldn’t wait to see what he could pull out of her while his cock was buried inside her.

Painfully slow, Lando trailed his hand between the two of them to her heat. Running a single finger through her folds, he couldn’t help the smirk that formed feeling how turned on she already was for him.

“Look at you pretty girl, already so ready. What got you this needy baby?” He asked as he circled her clit with the pad of his forefinger, making it hard for her to respond in a coherent sentence.

“Y-you Lan, was thinking about you” she whimpered out

“me? What thoughts was that filthy little mind thinking about me huh?” He bit into her neck again, making her whine.

“Watching you lift the weights with your hips, was thinking about how I’d look on your lap” she panted out, reaching down to wrap her tiny hand around his cock that was resting between the two of them before giving it a few slow pumps.

“You’d look so pretty on my lap angel, too bad we don’t have time for that today” he groaned as he slipped his fingers back through her folds, before slipping two digits in without warning and curling them in just the right way it instantly drove her insane as they stretched her out.

“FUCK LANDO” she screamed out before dropping her head to his shoulder and biting down to keep quiet.

As her hand tightened around his cock, he increased his pace bringing her closer to the edge, his own high building

“Princess, as much as I want to drag this out as long as possible i don’t think I’m going to last, I’ve been waiting too long for this to happen again” he groaned

“Please Lando, please fuck me” she begged, fuck she’d drop to her knees right now for him if he asked.

He couldn’t wait another second after hearing that, taking his fingers out of her and flipping her around so that her chest was pushed against the tiled wall, kicking her feet slightly further apart to give himself better access.

“You’re going to have to be quiet baby girl, don't want anyone to know how good you’re taking me in here” he growled before plunging his cock into her without further warning.

She had to bite down on her arm that was holding her up to stop herself screaming in pleasure, Lando stretching her out all over again while his cock relentlessly pounds into her.

His fingertips gripping her hips so tight that they’d surely leave a bruise tomorrow, not wanting to think about letting her go anytime soon.

“Fuck do you know how often I’ve thought about using this pussy again? It’s all I’ve thought about since that night but even my memory doesn’t do it justice, i swear you feel tighter, like your pussy was made to perfectly grip my cock and only mine” he groaned out between pumps, feeling her pussy pulling him back in every time

“All yours Lan, it’s all fucking yours” she squeaks, feeling her orgasm approaching hard and fast as Lando basically bruises her cervix.

“Gonna cum for me pretty girl? Can feel your pussy getting tighter, gonna make me cum soon” he pants, kissing her shoulders and neck from behind her.

Lowering one hand down to find her clit again, he circles it with the perfect mix of pressure and speed, making her see stars.

“Please lan, need to cum, please let me cum” she begs as her legs start shaking, barely able to keep her up anymore.

“Good girl begging for permission, cum on my cock baby, scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to” he speeds up his already brutal assault on her pussy.

With that, she’s screaming out as she clamps down on his cock, almost dropping to the floor in pleasure, only held up by Lando’s grip on her hips.

That’s all it took for Lando to come undone, hearing the pretty screams coming out of her mouth, he was pulling out and pumping his cum onto the swell of her ass.

After they both came down from their highs, Lando took great pride in making sure she was taken care of, helping gently wash her skin while peppering little kisses over her shoulders.

“So, your biggest worry is people starting rumors about you with other drivers?” He asks sincerely

“It gets tiring always being called a home wrecker and a whore just because you were seen interacting positively with another driver, the PR team assure me it’s fine but i feel like such a burden on them that they’re always having to deal with it” she sighs, leaning back against his chest

“What if you were just seen with one driver from now on? Would that be an issue?” He quietly presses

She turns around, quirking an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like i did this very backwards, but I’ve been wanting to ask you on a date since we met, even more so after that night back in Texas, so would that be okay?” He asked, all confidence suddenly leaving him as he waited for a response.

“I mean, I’d probably have to clear it with the Red Bull PR team, but I’d love nothing more” she responds with a bright smile.

[fluentmoviequoter]

My Shy Valentine

Requested Here!

My Shy Valentine Series Masterlist

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: As Valentine's Day approaches, Tim's coworkers don't believe he has a girlfriend. She's too shy to be introduced conventionally, but when they catch him hugging someone at the station, the truth comes out.

Warnings: fluff! a repeated mouth-to-mouth joke, this has build-up to Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“Can you take this to the K-9 captain?” Angela asks, extending a paper toward Tim.

“Do I look like your secretary?” he replies.

“No, you look like an errand boy.”

Tim rolls his eyes at Angela’s smile. He should be used to it by now, but she never fails to surprise and push him to the brink of snapping. She’s also one of his closest friends, so he powers through her nosiness and sarcastic comments.

“Fine, but only because I was going that way before you asked,” he answers, taking the paper.

“Sure. Thanks, Timothy.”

As Tim walks into the K-9-unit training area, he looks around for the captain but finds something more interesting to focus on. Across the turf obstacle course, you are talking to a K-9 officer, Hughie, as everyone in the station refers to him. Tim finds himself drawn to you for some unexplained reason.

“Bradford,” the captain calls. “Finally realize we’re the best?”

“No, sir, I’m happy in Metro,” Tim answers. “Dropping this off for Detective Lopez.”

The captain nods as he takes the paper, noticing Tim’s gaze drift back to you.

“Who’s that?” Tim asks.

“Hughie,” the captain answers before quickly realizing his mistake, exclaiming, “Oh!” before telling Tim your name. He adds that you are Hughie’s best friend, and you come to visit often. 

You raise your head, meeting Tim’s eyes for a second before you look away quickly. Tim thinks he could get used to being looked at by you, and the idea startles him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Looking away from the attractive officer quickly, you focus on your best friend, Hughie. He seems to notice something has brought out your shyness, glancing across the obstacle course before chuckling.

“That’s Bradford, he’s Metro. And, between you and me, grumpy and overbearing.”

You nod, knowing that it’s supposed to be a warning, yet you find yourself more intrigued by the knowledge that there’s more than meets the eye.

“Excuse me,” Bradford says, walking up behind you. “Hughie, I wanted to let you know that Kojo is still addicted to those treats you introduced him too.”

Hughie laughs and you watch Bradford smile as he turns to you. Hughie introduces you, supplying you with Tim Bradford’s full name. You extend your hand, hoping it’s not sweaty, clammy, or any other word ending with -y as you shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you pull your hand away.

Remembering Hughie’s warning, you think Tim is everything but grumpy and overpowering as he introduces himself. Tim, however, immediately catches onto how shy you are, and his smile grows when you clench the hand he just shook into a fist while you look at Hughie’s dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits outside the K-9 unit, hoping that he doesn’t come across as creepy or find out that he misread your reactions as he waits for you.

“Hey,” he calls when you walk out.

You jump, startled at the sudden attention.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, with a smile that doesn’t seem sorry to you. “I didn’t mean to bombard you, but I wanted to ask you something without Hughie standing right beside you.”

Furrowing your brows, you wonder what he could want to know that couldn’t be discussed in front of your best friend.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me? We can do whatever you want,” Tim offers.

After a moment of silence, Tim’s smile falls, and you whisper, “Why me?”

“That’s usually my line,” he jokes, easing your nerves slightly.

You nod, agreeing to a date and hoping you can survive a night with a gorgeous man like Tim.

✯✯✯✯✯

Survival is not an option, it turns out. From the moment Tim picks you up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, he seems determined to embarrass you and make you hide from him.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?” Tim asks.

You raise your napkin to your face, ducking behind it and hoping you can stay hidden until Tim is ready to leave, but he pulls it away from your face with a lie about being sorry.

Though he makes you so shy you can’t speak to him, you and Tim both fall quickly and within a few weeks of meeting him, you’re completely under his spell.

✯✯✯✯✯

Visiting Hughie, he asks what you see in Bradford, and you can only raise one shoulder to your cheek. There isn’t enough time to list everything you love about Tim, but you also think Hughie wouldn’t get it.

“As long as he treats you well, it’s your decision,” Hughie decides.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as he chuckles. His dog barks as he returns your hug.

“Do you want to go see Tim?” Hughie asks.

“No,” you answer quickly. “Not while he’s working and there’s so many people.”

“You visit me in front of other people while I’m working,” Hughie argues.

“I don’t have a massive crush on you,” you mumble.

“No, you’re just a terrible friend who made the ‘Hughie’ nickname stick.”

“Sorry,” you say with a pout, spreading your arms for another hug.

“I suppose you’re forgiven; not much I can do about it now.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Who are you watching the Super Bowl with?” Nolan asks. “Bailey and I are having a little get together if you want to stop by.”

“I’m having a few buddies over, and my girlfriend is coming, but thanks for the offer,” Tim answers distractedly.

Angela, Grey, and Nyla stand nearby and rush to stop him. “Girlfriend?” they repeat.

Wondering what is wrong with them and why they’re reacting so strangely, Tim nods with his brows pinched. They all start talking over one another, and Tim only catches pieces of what they’re saying.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Wade says.

“There’s no way… did you drug her?” Nyla accuses.

“Who would…” Nolan begins, trailing off as Tim raises a hand to stop them.

“Really?” he asks. “It’s that hard to believe?”

They nod, and Angela speaks for everyone in the station when she says, “You just don’t really act like the girlfriend type these days.”

Tim rolls his eyes, glancing toward the K-9 unit and considering calling you or Hughie to tell them you’re real, but it’s not worth the trouble. They’ll find another reason not to believe him.

“I’m with Wade,” Nyla agrees. “Until I see her, I’m calling bull.”

“Hate to say I agree, but…” Nolan shrugs.

“You are terrible people,” Tim concludes as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits outside your job, already smiling as he plans to make you shy away from him. When you step out, grinning while you approach him, he begins his assault of compliments, holding your wrists away from your face so he can see your eyes.

“You make it so easy,” he teases, kissing your nose.

“You’re just mean. You know I can’t take it,” you argue.

“That’s what makes it so fun.”

You huff, and Tim laughs as he moves his hand to your back to help you into the passenger seat of his truck.

“I do love you, though, I just like to show it-“

“In unexpected ways,” you finish, nodding sarcastically. “You’re going to kill me one of these days. I won’t be able to take it, and I’ll just keel over in your arms.”

“Like I’d let you,” Tim argues. “Mouth-to-mouth exists for a reason, baby.”

You turn away, the idea pulling your fight out of you as Tim chuckles.

“You’re not like this with anyone else,” you say quietly.

“Because you’re the only one of you.”

Once Tim lets you into his house, he notices you’re staring at his waist. He’s seen you hug Hughie and had the joy of initiating hugs himself, so he knows that is what you want. You always go for the waist when hugging but never seem willing to initiate contact with him.

Tim spreads his arms, and you rush forward to grip his waist tightly, relaxing against him as his arms circle your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“You can just hug me, you know that, right?” he asks kindly.

“What if you don’t want one right then?” you reply, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I always want one from you.”

Your grip tightens as you press your face further into his chest; with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, Tim takes his opportunity to get sappy and push you. He pulls back slowly, cupping your face between his hands.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he begins, punctuating his compliment with a kiss. “And the best hugger.” Another kiss. “Even when you get shy and try to run away from me.”

You duck your chin, and Tim brushes his fingers over your cheek to raise your head back toward him. Each compliment and touch from him makes you putty in his hands, and Tim chuckles as he drops his head, kissing you as you cling to him.

✯✯✯✯✯

On Valentine’s Day, you wake up with a smile, excited to share your love with the people closest to you as you anticipate Tim’s surprise. He’s been talking about it for weeks, and every time you ask for a hint, he distracts you with a compliment or by staring at your face, causing you to squirm before looking away from him.

Your first stop is the police station, a small gift for Hughie and his wife tucked in your bag as you carry an oversized cardboard heart filled with treats.

“What on earth is that?” Hughie asks.

“This is for my best friend,” you answer, setting it down on the floor and removing the lid to reveal an assortment of gourmet dog treats.

 “You get a boyfriend and everything changes,” Hughie sighs, smiling as he pulls you into a side hug.

“And this is for you and Mrs. Hughie,” you add, passing him the gift bag covered in hearts.

“She’ll love that nickname,” Hughie jokes. “But thank you for thinking of us.”

“Any big plans?”

“We’re going out this weekend; too busy for us married folks to go out on Valentine’s Day. But what about the new lovebirds?”

“Tim has a surprise, but he won’t tell me anything.”

“Well… you could always go surprise him right now,” Hughie suggests, smiling.

“I don’t know,” you say slowly, glancing toward the door.

“Live a little,” Hughie adds.

You nod, telling him you’ll come to see him again before you leave. Taking a deep breath, you enter the station and set out to find Tim.

He sees you first, and when you look up, he winks at you. Raising your shoulder toward your cheek to hide your embarrassment, you walk toward him when he gestures you over. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling at you.

You shrug. “Came to see Hughie.”

“Not me?”

When you shrug again, Tim takes pity on you and whispers, “Sorry. Whenever you want.”

You take his offer, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his waist and his move over your shoulders. He tells you that you look beautiful, and you tighten your arms around him.

“Can’t breathe,” he pants dramatically.

Believing him, or something close to it, you begin to pull away, but Tim catches your waist and adds, “No better way to go, though.”

“Stop,” you beg.

Tim smiles, and you know that asking him to stop usually spurs him on to continue.

Nolan, Angela, Nyla, and Wade stand nearby, their eyes wide and jaws dropped as Tim openly shows you affection, smiling as you hide against his chest.

“Who’s that? Another sister?” Aaron asks as he walks in.

“Girlfriend,” Angela and Wade say together.

“Girlfriend?!” Aaron exclaims, his expression matching theirs.

You and Tim look over, and when you see how much attention is on you, you turn back around and hide against Tim again.

“They want to meet you,” Tim tells you.

Shaking your head, you decline.

“They’re nice.”

You shake your head again, but Tim spreads his hand over your back and leads you toward them. Waving shyly as Tim makes introductions, you stay as close to his side as possible. 

Nolan opens his mouth to speak, but Tim sends him a warning look, and he closes his mouth to reconsider. “Any Valentine’s Day plans?” he asks.

You stiffen beside Tim, and he answers, “That’s enough,” before steering you away.

“Way to go, Nolan!” Nyla says. “We had them.”

“It was just a question!” he defends.

“She’s shy, can’t you see that?” Angela adds.

“Next time, leave Nolan in the car,” Wade says, shaking his head as he returns to his office.

✯✯✯✯✯

In the safety of Tim’s office, you pull a gift box from your bag and pass it to Tim.

“It’s not much,” you begin.

“It’s perfect,” Tim says, setting it on his desk before cupping your cheeks. “Much like you.”

You turn into one of his hands, but he pulls you into a kiss before you can hide completely.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says against your lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you repeat.

When he pulls back, smiling as your eyes linger on his lips before dropping to his waist, you feel emboldened by his words and actions.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

You don’t have time to get embarrassed at your first confession before you’re back in Tim’s arms: the only place you get shy but don’t mind.

✯✯✯✯✯

"I thought you had a surprise for Valentine's Day."

Tim's brows raise as he asks, "Have a little faith in me, would you?"

You smile, taking his hand as he leads you onto his porch. When he opens the door, you see the floor is covered in rose petals and battery-powered candles cover the living room and kitchen.

"Tim," you breathe out.

He repeats your name in a matching tone.

"This is too much."

"It's not enough for you."

"I-I think I'm ready to meet your friends whenever you are."

Tim nods, pulling you close and tapping his nose against your temple when you find your spot, with your arms around his waist.

"It's up to you, but I'll be there the whole time."

"I love you, Tim. Thank you for being patient with me, even though you drive me crazy sometimes."

Tim laughs, leaning his head back. "I drive you crazy? Imagine what you do to me."

You lean against him, looking at the large bouquet and red gift bag on the table.

"I love you," he replies.

"You really did do too much."

"You would keep me from celebrating the woman I love?" Tim asks dramatically. "Maybe I will be the one who needs mouth-to-mouth."

You step back, moving toward the table, and Tim grabs your hips, following you with more whispered compliments.

"I'm glad I came to the station that day," you tell him, leaning against his chest.

"Don't tell Angela which day it was when you meet her, she'll take the credit for us getting together."

"Which I still don't understand."

"Usually my line," Tim repeats.

You turn in his hold, cupping his jaw as you rise and kiss him.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my shy little valentine."

Your groan is met with kisses and far too many gifts, but Tim takes your shyness in stride and treats it like one of your assets rather than a problem. He loves you, and you love him, even when he makes you feel like you need mouth-to-mouth.

[thatlittlered]

i want you | logan howlett

warning(s): afab!reader if you really squint, cursing, immense and unbelievable heartbreak, spoilers for Logan (2017)

GIF by anonymous

author's note: I'm back where I came from writing x-men fanfiction and naming chapters after songs, life has truly come full circle. I could sit here and write some smut, talk about how much I want lick Logan (Hugh Jackman in general) from head to toe, OR I could break all of our hearts so guess what I chose :)

This is going to be a series so let me know if you want to be tagged.

-.-.-

It’s embarrassing; shameful, but he needs to have something.

Charles has to know about this little habit, somewhere in his few moments of clarity.

It’s practically morning when he comes back from work, but the water is running. He lingers; he always lingers when he realizes it’s you behind that door. He tells himself it’s typical animal behavior, he’ll guard you like the dog he is.

Today he’s not even good at that. His legs can’t hold him up any longer.

His feet take him to your room.

It’s probably the only part of this godforsaken place that smells nice. Almost feels like a real home in here, with your fresh cotton sheets and plush comforter. He won’t sully them, so he sits on the floor instead – a proper dog.

He should just fucking die already. Just send you off to a better life and die.

It’s what he deserves and long overdue.

You wouldn’t leave him though, and you most definitely wouldn’t leave Charles, or to be exact, what measly bits are left of both of them.

What a fucking waste.

You find him asleep there. Exhaustion took over when he leaned back against your bedframe, yet his body doesn’t seem at rest. Where can peace be found if not in sleep?

You sit next to him, now clad in soft pajamas and he’s already awakened by the smell of your shampoo before you call out to him.

“Logan?”

He blinks once, twice.

Even his eyes are not working properly these days. Always a little out of focus.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

He gives a half-grunt and moves to get up, but a brave hand on his thigh stops him. He surrenders to your insistence and the warmth of your fluffy carpet under him.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Of course, you are. You never sleep.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can take my bed if the problem is the mattress.”

You watch him pinch his nose. Can’t be sure if he’s annoyed at you or himself.

“It’s not the fucking mattress, sweetheart, alright? I’m rotting from the inside out, no bed on earth can change that.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that.

It’s no secret to any of you that Logan has been struggling as of lately. He won’t speak of it, won’t ask for help. He's Atlas and the world is slipping.

“Did you need something?”

He doesn’t look you in the eye anymore, you notice.

“I was just checking up on you with how much time you spend in the shower. What do you even do in there?”

“I like it. It makes me feel normal.”

Logan merely hums in response. His hand reaches for the flask inside his pocket in a well-practiced motion.

“Is that whiskey?”

Of course it is.

You can make out his little smirk in the dim lighting. The odd little bit of humanity left in him that you always seem to attract. The tenderness they’ve tried time after time to rid him of.

“Can I have some?”

He watches you drink and lick your lips clean; admires your little frown at the taste. Decades alive and you’ll never grow used to it.

Your hands brush as you hand it back—an intentional act on your part—and he jumps. A shiver runs through him when it turns into a caress. Your hands are so much softer, so much gentler. A feather touch on his knuckles where the pus has begun to gather.

He should just fucking die.

“You should cut down on your hours. I can get a job, something part-time.”

His laugh is angry. It’s cruel and unnecessary.

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, but what does it matter?

“No need, bub. No point in it either.”

“You can’t go on like this, you know that.”

He drinks and drinks until the flask is almost empty.

“You should go somewhere else entirely; somewhere they won’t find you easily. Maybe your trouble will be worth something there.”

Maybe you’ll even have a life there.

“Is that what you think? That I’m here out of necessity?”

Logan chuckles, but there’s no humor in it.

“That’s why we’re all here, doll, but you- it could work. You should leave.”

Leave him. Never look back.

“It won’t. I won’t – I can’t.”

Something invisible tugs at his heart. Your glassy eyes, your loyalty.

Argos waited for Ulysses till death. For which master do you endure?

“For what? For whom, Charles? He’s barely even himself anymore, he doesn’t recognize you half the time. What’s the point?”

“So, he’s right, you’re just waiting for him to die.”

He falls silent again. The words cut deep.

“What about you, Logan?”

“What about me?”

“I should just leave you behind?”

It can’t be the heat, it has to be the alcohol, but the air is getting thicker in here.

He practically tears his suit jacket off. He’s usually nicer than this, always respectful of your efforts. The neat way you iron his shirts. Your ways of taking care of him.

The booze has started to get to him lately, as every other thing. He feels it now as it slurs his mind and speech. A shadow of his former self in every way.

It makes it even harder to look at you.

“I’m dead fucking weight. If you knew what’s right for you, you’d run and never look back at this shithole… you certainly don’t need me either.”

“I don’t stay because I need you, Logan. I stay because I love you.”

It’s hard to breathe. There’s unease in the way he holds your gaze and he almost looks small for a second. It doesn’t last. He’s quickly an animal again, now wounded and hurting. His growl is sign enough.

“Don’t say that.”

“Logan-”

You reach for his hand, but he doesn’t let you. He tries to stand up. His legs don’t listen.

What a pathetic excuse of a man he’s become.

You reach for him again when he lands back on your floor.

His voice is small and quiet, “Shit, sweetheart. You can’t fucking say that to me.”

He’s practically shaking in anger. Or sadness. Whatever this is, it’s overwhelming.

It’s easy to give up and lean into you; face landing on the softness of your middle.

“You can’t-you can’t say that to me.”

He can hear your heartbeat so clearly, it’s almost deafening when he presses his ear to your stomach. Everything hurts.

“I love you.”

You see his eyes close gently.

He wants to lose all his other senses, if only for this moment, if only to focus solely on the softness of your skin. The gentleness of your fingers when they gather in his hair.

“It’s okay, Logan.”

He only looks up when you take his face in your hands. You can feel his breath on you. All you can do is look at each other. His hand comes up to your shirt and lifts it, just enough for his lips to touch there – just this once.

He only needs this one thing and he’ll be good for the rest of his pitiful, miserable life.

“I have things I need to do.”

You only nod.

You offer your hand, but he doesn’t take it, drags himself upwards instead. The moment of weakness has passed.

“I’m going out. You should get some rest, don’t forget to lock the door.”

There is no point in arguing or asking where he’s going. He needs to be away from you.

“I won’t.”

He nods back at you, but avoids your eyes as he leaves. He’ll sleep in the car tonight.

Just this one little thing might be enough.

[astroboots]

PUNCH-OUT LOVE 2

Artwork by @guruan

LOST AND FOUND

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You're sent on a wild goose chase for your missing handbag in the Lost and Found section and find something else instead: Miguel O'Hara.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist

[Previous Chapter]

The stage is empty. 

The gargantuan defeated Knock Out King, all 340 pounds of him was loaded on a stretcher minutes ago. He was lying face up as if he was taking a restful nap on a hammock while he was carried out into the crowded noise of fascinated and hushed whispers. 

The ring lights are dimmed down now and most of the crowd have gotten to their feet and are pouring out of the stadium.

You're still glued to your seat, the hard plastic of the chair, bruising against your tailbone. But despite the discomfort you make no moves to get up. You're too busy staring up at the evacuated stage, reliving the scene that had unfolded before your very eyes minutes ago.

The swift motion of punches flying through the air, evaded with precise dodges. The refraction of ring light bouncing off brown glistening curls. The sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat as he closed in and landed the final blow that had his opponent reeling back and crashing to the ground.

"You alright?"

You snap out of your thoughts at the familiar voice, and find yourself blinking up at a pair of inquisitive eyes.

"You look completely zoned out, like you're on a different planet.” 

“Sorry, Jess,” you say, “I’m– I was distracted.” 

Standing on her feet, Jess gestures towards the exit in the back of the arena. "Should we start heading out? Gonna be a real pain in the ass grabbing a taxi in this crowd, we better hurry"

With a brief nod, you rise in your seat, feet wobbly and a bit out of balance as you file out of the arena in the crowd.

Maybe it's the heat in the arena, overcrowded as it had been mere minutes ago, but you feel like you're sleepwalking. Even as you're physically leaving the stadium, your mind is still left behind, sat in the front row seat, staring up at Miguel O'Hara.

The flash of knuckles as O'Hara's fist connected to his opponent's jaw. Watching the other man's bottom lip wobble as spit flew out of his mouth seconds before he landed in defeat.

Your veins still thrum with adrenaline. Your heart thumping in excitement. You can't contain the rush of emotions that swells in your chest.

That was amazing... He was amazing.

Still in a daze, you’re acting on muscle memory as you follow Jess out into the lobby, until you reach the outside and are standing in the back of a long and seemingly unending line for a cab.

"Shit, Uber prices have surged like mad," Jess is muttering next to you, frantically swiping at her phone.

She's cursing away, trying for every alternative taxi app: Lyft, Via, Gett, with little success.

You're only paying her half-attention.

Standing under a canopy of the parking zone, you're staring up at the evening above, but you’re not really seeing the light-polluted starless city sky. All you see is the sharp focus of mahogany eyes as they turned in your direction and settled on you. You can feel it still. The intensity that resided in them, burrowing into your skin and has made a home in you. An itch that you cannot scratch that is consuming you from within.

"Hey!"

The sharp sound breaks your concentration. "Did you hear me at all?" Jess asks.

There's a terse impatience in her voice that means she's probably been calling for your attention a handful of times by now while you were zoned out.

"No. I--sorry," you say sheepishly. "What were you saying?"

"Can you try getting on Uber? I have a shit rating there and no one will accept my requests."

Nodding absentmindedly, you reach for your handbag slung across your shoulder. Your shoulder feels awfully light, and you swipe at empty air before you realize, there's nothing there. You're not wearing your handbag.

Crap.

"Did you leave your handbag inside?" she asks. 

You revisit your steps. You last remember having it on when you sat down and hung it on the back of your seat. You were so out of it when you left the arena, you don't think you ever picked it up.

"I think I left it inside, I'm gonna head back in, I'll be right back."

“Alright, but hurry!” she shouts after you as you run back inside. 

Without the tight squeeze of having to manoeuvre your way through the impatient crowd, your journey back into the stadium is a much quicker one than when you entered before the game. 

Everywhere you go is empty this time around. The glitz and glamor has completely faded.

There is a strange atmosphere in the arena in the aftermath when it's devoid of people. Your footfalls echoes and bounces of the walls, and you become aware of your every movement.

You rush through the rows hurriedly, eyes scanning the plastic seats even before you have reached your own previous seat. 

When you finally do, there's nothing there.

Shit.

On stage, there is a member of the cleaning staff, mopping up the grimy sweat and grubby soap from the squeaky vinyl floor.

"Excuse me," you ask, and the man ducks up to stare at you. "You wouldn't have happened to see a handbag that was hanging here would you?"

"Check lost and found," the man says brusquely as he continues to sweep the stage unbothered by your presence.

That’s seemingly the only thing you are going to get from him. He doesn’t pay you anymore attention, even as you shift your feet to try to catch eye contact and regain his attention to ask where the lost and found section is. It doesn't work.

After two awkward shuffles, you decide to take your luck elsewhere. You make your way back down the row of seats in the hopes you might find an usher who can point you in the right direction. 

But the corridors are even emptier now. The only people wandering down the aisles are not paying you any notice and actively avoiding any eye contact you try to establish in order to initiate a conversation. In other words, they’re behaving like New Yorkers do in New York. 

You sigh, trudging along another dimly lit hall when you spot a tall lanky man munching on a half eaten donut. He’s clad in slippers and a pink bathrobe with the most angelic looking cherub baby, bouncy curls and all, strapped in a BabyBjörn to his chest. 

You’re not entirely sure that he works here, or that he would have any better idea than you at finding the Lost and Found section. 

The only reason you decide to approach him anyway is the bright security badge in big bold capital letters reading “VIP ACCESS” hung around his neck. 

Gently you tap him across the shoulder, and the man turns around.

His eyes go big and rounded, pupils dilated with shock at the sight of you as he stares down at you. “Oh holy shit!” 

The man seems high. 

Shaggy hair and unkempt scruff on his jaw, wearing sweatpants over a stained t-shirt. He certainly looks the part of a stoner, save for the part where he has a literal child strapped to his chest. 

“Sorry," you try politely. "I lost my bag and the custodian said I should go to–”

The man in front of you nods enthusiastically, but you get the sense that he’s not really taking in the words you are saying. 

“Yeah, yeah! Of course,” he interrupts. “Right down the hall. You won’t miss it, it’s the only room there” 

You peek down the hallway he’s pointing you towards. Except you can't see down the passage he’s suggesting you take because there is an obstruction. Two in fact. Two mountainous security guards standing shoulder to shoulder to block anyone from going down that route. 

That doesn’t seem right. 

Why would a Lost and Found section be so heavily guarded? 

“Are you sure that’s correct?” you eye the bodyguards cautiously, trying be polite about the obstacle the two large men blocking the said hallway presents. Especially when they are only three feet away and definitely within hearing range. 

Luckily, stoned as the overly friendly man in front of you may be, he seems to catch the drift without any further hints from you. 

“Oh right!” He grabs the security badge hanging around his neck. “Take this,” he says and drapes it over your head with dramatic flair as if he’s rewarding you with the honorary city keys. 

The two men part as you approach. You feel like you are Moses, the chosen one, and the red sea is parting before you. 

You look back one more time, and in the sliver of space between the two security guards you see your friendly stoner flash you an amicable salute in your direction as the angelic looking baby waves at you with a squeal. 

“Good luck,” he shouts over to you. 

Strange man. 

You continue down the hall, to the flickering of the glaring fluorescent light that is entirely too bright as you reach the only room at the dead end of this hall. 

It’s odd. Why would a communal space such as a lost and found section be so damn hard to find and this heavily guarded. Why on earth would anyone need a security pass just to reach it? Is this some elaborate scam run by the boxing organization? Do they make massive winnings from reselling spectators' left behind belongings on Ebay? Because otherwise this seems like exceptional poor planning on the architect’s part. Either that, or the friendly stoner pointed you in the wrong direction… which seems like the most probable option. 

For a second, you contemplate turning around to find the man again and ask him if this really is the right place. But Jess is waiting. She must be either pissed or incredibly worried at how long you’ve taken already. A twinge of guilt pass over you, you're hoping it's the former rather than the latter.

Shaking your head, you open the door and the first sight that greets you are rows after rows of oldfashioned lockers standing like sentinels. 

There are no boxes here. No junk items of lost wallets, or jackets. Instead all you see is the vision of the man standing several feet away from you. His wide impressive back filling up the space of the empty room as he looms over an open locker. 

“Parker, I told you I’m not in the mood.” 

You freeze, shoes stuck to the floor as if the soles have set in with industrial cement to the tile. 

It doesn’t matter that you can’t see his face, or that you’ve never heard him speak before. You’d recognize that perfect silhouette in a heartbeat after tonight. A man of proportions so exceptional, you’re not entirely sure he’s a real flesh and blood human. 

It's a presence so large that even in this changing room he looms so tall, you swear he must have to duck to not hit his head against the ceiling. 

He seems like he’s sprung out of the imagination of a 13 year old boy’s idea of what a Superhero from the Golden Age of comic books should be.

Miguel O’Hara. 

In front of you, he slowly rises, straightening his posture. Somehow, and you don’t understand how that’s physically even possible, he grows even taller with the movement. 

It’s like the scene out of Jurassic park when the Velociraptor is inches away and approaching. Even as you watch him slowly turn to face you, you’re too frozen to flee out of the room. The only thing you find yourself doing is breathing harder and harsher. Until it’s too late and he’s turned fully around, facing you. 

O’Hara stands unmoving, towering with the presence of a monolith. 

Even though you’re clearly not the person he was expecting. Even though you’re clearly not this Parker person he thought he was speaking to, he’s not saying anything. His face is stoic, not betraying a hint of emotion. The sole clue that he’s even registering your presence is the way his perfect arched brow arches. 

He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, just as still as you are, eyes locked on you. 

He is assessing you, you realize. Stern, sharp and penetrating eyes, starting from the tip of your toes, up the length of your legs to your shoulders until his assessing stare lands at the crown of your head. 

It’s the same focused and unwavering attention you felt on you from across the stage not even half an hour ago when you were sat in the rickety plastic chair and he was standing in the boxing ring. 

Electricity sparks, bright and sharp, along the surface of your skin until every hair stands at alert at his attention. 

“I’m so sorry. I think there’s been a mistake”, you try to explain. “I lost my bag, and I asked where the Lost and Found section was and for some reason some random pothead told me to come down here.” 

You flash the badge at him. “They gave me this and nobody stopped me, I didn’t mean to interrupt you in your… uhm….” 

Your eyes land on the trickle of water that’s pooled on his neck. The wet sheen of his brown curls fresh out of the shower, then drift lower. 

More bare skin. Your sentence trails off mid-word. Words slurring at the tip of your tongue. It feels heavy in your mouth and syrupy, like you’ve been given the good stuff at the dentist and you lose track of what it was you were trying to say. 

His skin is tanned and marred with black-brown bruises, a testament to what his body has been put through. Somehow every inch still manages to look impossibly soft and you are itching to skim your fingertips all over him. 

Your eyes linger on his bare chest and hard stomach. He’s only clad in a towel. It modestly wraps around his narrow hips, and you catch the sparse trail of hair that graze down below his navel and every single one of your brain cells is erased of any coherent thought. 

Then he finally breaks the silence.

"What did you think of the fight?"

You blink up at him at his question. Did you miss a sentence while you blacked out? You must’ve. How did you go from walking into the wrong room-- interrupting and invading someone’s private space as he’s come right out of a shower-- to him asking you a casual question as if this is nothing out of the ordinary and you’re just sat across him at a cafe to catch up? How is he not calling security to throw you out of here? 

And what does he mean, 'what do you think?'

What are you supposed to think about it? You know nothing about boxing.

Wracking your head, you try to think of something clever to say that doesn't make you sound like a complete novice. You're replaying videotapes of boxing matches from your childhood, grasping at phrases used by announcers during the fight.

Words like footwork, technical knockout and roundhouse punch flit through your mind, but you don't know how to string them together into sentence that sounds remotely half intelligible.

In front of you, O'Hara tilts his head to the side as he observes you. Your fingers tingle from the attention of his focused gaze on you. In all of your life, you can't ever recall being this affected by a man just looking at you.

Shit, he's still waiting for an answer isn't he? He's still looking up at you with those expectant narrowed eyes, waiting for you to answer. You open your mouth, blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind.

"I liked it. It was like a dance."

The moment the words leave your mouth you regret it. Your cheeks burn with heat.

Oh god. You sound like a brainless moron.

What an incredibly ditzy thing to say. Why not just compare him to a fucking mime or a tap-dancer while you're at it?

You're better than this. But you blame your lack of cognitive functions at how the sight of this half-naked man has incinerated every last one of your brain cells.

You brace yourself for him to laugh you out of the locker room. But he doesn't. Instead that stern expression on his face breaks. His full lips curve into a small, disarmingly sweet smile.

The smile softens his features. His brown eyes go warm when he looks up at you, brows rounding and no longer tense. It's nothing at all like the angry sharp lines etched into every line of his face when he was on stage, fists braced for a fight. 

"Yeah?" he asks, so much more soft spoken than you had expected a guy of his size to be.

Still out of sorts, you nod your head dumbly at him. "Yeah."

The smile on his lips grows. You don't know if it's a trick of the light, but as dim as this gray and dingy locker room is, it seems to go a little bit brighter with it. He looks at you with a nostalgic familiarity that is reserved for a longtime friend. 

Oh god help you. He's not just scary, and alarmingly handsome in a way that makes him belong on the glossy covers of GQ. It's so much worse than that... he's cute.

You physically shake your head to snap yourself out of it.

Get a fucking grip. You’re meant to be on a seemingly futile journey to find your handbag, not a prowl to get your rock offs. 

Oh shit. 

… Except that's what this is, isn't it?

That’s why he hasn’t chased you out of his room. 

That’s why he’s trying to make small talk. 

Why he’s asking you what you thought of the match. 

He thinks you're a groupie. Some starstruck boxing fan, that's wormed their way past his manager to get a backstage pass and a chance to ride the boxing champion. You should probably say something to correct his misunderstanding...

You look back up at him. That warm and unassuming smile that's still there on his face.

Yes. You should do that. Speak up and explain the situation. But for some reason you don't. You stand there in place. Mouth parting and closing like a dumb goldfish, unable to find the words to explain the situation.

Until a terrible whisper of a thought enters your brain. What if you don't...

It lasts entirely too long. Two whole seconds before you remind yourself that it would be wrong for one. Because that would be operating under false pretenses.

...

Except would it though?

There is no membership to join the council of groupies that you need to apply for beforehand. There's no harm and no foul here.

After all, whether you're a groupie or not, if you're both willing adults, then what's the problem here?

...

The problem is that it would still be a lie, and you'd know.

Your mind is playing ping pong in the thought process.

It's like there is a tiny angel sitting on your right shoulder and a miniature devil on the left.

You look peer up at him again, biting down on your lip at the sight before you. All dark eyes and tanned skin and pouty lips. Shit.

The devil and angel may be in disagreement about the ethics of this situation, but here's the thing, they are in complete and total agreement over one thing.

Both of them want to fuck him.

To be continued.

A/N: Guys guys so sorry it took forever. Life has been wiiiiild as of late. I have quite a few WIPs going on at the moment and having a bit of a think about which ones to continue/prioritise so if you do want to see more of this one please let me know! Let me know if you enjoyed this, if you want to see more and what you would like to see.

Big thank you to my bestie Guruan who made the beautiful art banner for me. This is my treat to her because I'm unable to send her icecream in person.

And of course as always all my love and gratitude. If I could I would give her my heart on a platter: @thirstworldproblemss I got a bit stuck on how to get these two in the same room together and she helped me plot this chapter. Thank you for always letting me rubberduck things with you.

[risuola]

IV — MY LOVE // F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU

It's not often that you and Tobirama go on dates together. This one brought you even closer, when in the golden hues of sunset, Tobirama realized his feelings towards you.

contents: fluff — 2,8k words

POLITICALLY LOVELESS || SERIES MASTERLIST

Showered and clothed cleanly you left your house before 8pm. To the hokage office you had just few minutes of slow walk, so you took your time and even engaged in few conversations with villagers along the way, one of which absorbed you more than it should. An older lady, late in her seventies asked for your help in closing her shop for the day. It’s usually her son that helps her carry the heavy boxes, but that day he couldn’t so you obviously agreed. For you it was nothing and for her, your help was everything as she couldn’t do this by herself even if she tried.

“You’re a gift to this village, y/n-chan,” she said to you, helping as much as she could, even though you advised her to just wait for you to move everything. The woman insisted to be useful, so you allowed her to carry the lightest of things.

“I’m always happy to help,” you smiled at her.

“I’m taking your time, I’m sorry,” granny lowered her head but you took her hands into yours, placing a soft kiss on top of them.

“Please, don’t be sorry. I find joy in helping, don’t feel guilty. My time is yours if you need me.”

“I’m so thankful.”

Although Tobirama tried to focus on his work, he couldn’t fully do that. Not when you called him love, not when the taste of your lips still lingered on top of his and definitely not when he was already thinking about the date you’ve been set to at evening. He had to force himself to think of politics, not the feeling of your body pressed against his and he found it exceptionally hard this time. What an effect you had on him, it’s unbelievable how easily you molded him in the warmth of your hands into something he never expected himself to be. What’s even more surprising, he really, truly loved the change; deep in his heart that for years he thought is frozen, young Senju couldn’t be more thankful for everything you’ve done to him.

He left the tower earlier than he said he would, so he moved forward to meet you half way only to fall in love with you once more, when he saw the scene in the village. You were carrying boxes for an elderly woman, too heavy for her to lift safely. Chatting joyfully, you stopped the service only to grab the woman’s hands, preventing her from bowing before you and as you pressed your lips to her worked up knuckles, the Senju felt like he didn’t deserve you. Pacing up a little, he joined you quickly, taking the box from your hands. “Let me finish this.”

There wasn’t much left, just few more so you allowed without argue.

“Please don’t bow,” you joined the elder that bent in half despite the pain in her back that she made obvious before. At her age everything hurt, and you felt bad for her. “Be careful of your back. I noticed it hurts you.”

“It’s just age, my child,” she responded, looking up at you and you lowered yourself as she reached to cup your face. “Please, don’t let the world change you, and you, Lord Senju,” she addressed your husband that joined after finishing the boxes, “you cherish that treasure with all of your might.”

“I will,” Tobirama responded, and you chuckled. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“No, you both have done a lot, it means the world to me as I thought I’d need to stay the night here and watch over those boxes. Now I can lock and go home.” She thanked many more times and you reassured her just as much that none of that is needed. Making sure she truly didn’t need anything more, you finally looked up to your husband.

“Was I late? I’m sorry, I lost control of time.”

“No, I finished a little earlier,” he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. With a kiss planted on his hand you two moved forward. "I'm so proud of having you by my side," Tobirama confessed, whilst you two were enjoying the riverside walk. In the golden hues of sun setting, he couldn't help but admire your features. "You might be the best thing that happened to this village and you definitely are the best thing that happened to me."

Soft smile bloomed on your face, as you looked up to see him. "And you deserve everything what's good in the world, Tobirama. You're just too stubborn to acknowledge what a wonderful human being you are."

Your husband scoffed, silently and yet openly disagreeing with every word you spoke.

"I'm not sure if I will ever deserve you."

"As I said," you chuckled, taking his hand and kissing his knuckle, "so stubborn. But you seem to turn a blind eye to everything what's wrong in me and that's unlikely of you, my love."

"There's nothing wrong in you that would alarm me enough to analyze it and there's so much good I wonder how all of that fits in your frame," he said, already wandering away in his mind.

Your love. Once more, you used those words to address him; once more you filled him with hope for something, he wouldn't dare to expect from you. He could never expect you to love him. Not when you were stripped off your own choice, your own happiness and love whilst being given up to political marriage with a man you had never seen before. You had no word in what you were pushed upon, you were presented on a silver tray to someone that your father found beneficial to his own businesses. Tobirama couldn't expect you to fall in love with him, when most of the time you are alone in home. But he wished.

"You know, I'm grateful for what happened to me," you draw his attention back to you, as you stopped by the edge and glanced over the calm waters. What you said surprised him, it’s like you heard his thoughts. "My whole life I was caged like a golden bird. My father held an iron, controlling grip over me, forcing me into behaviors he deemed appropriate. Truth is, the only thing that stopped him from marrying me off so much younger was my bad character. That's how I like to call it," you laughed quietly. "When he presented me with the news of a Lord from another village that agreed to take me as a wife, at first I felt nothing. Then it was happiness. The marriage with you meant an escape from the world that put me in chains. You gave me back freedom, gave me a place to love, people that appreciate me for who I am without fake respect that I experienced in Yu, being the so-called princess. I became free here."

Tobirama hummed, taking in your words, sensing nothing but sincerity. Everything you said made sense to him. He had seen your father only few times after the wedding ceremony, but every time was just as uncomfortable as the first one. The clash of two drastically different traditions was unbearable.

"And you know, those things really don’t matter that much but there was a chance I would be given up to a feudal lord from Iwa gakure and as far as I know, he’s at least fifty.” And overweight. And disgustingly perverse. But those things, you kept to yourself. “It truly didn't bother me that it was arranged and was set to be loveless. I knew it was a duty for you, a political agreement just as it was for Yugakure. When I saw you the first time in that forest, when you took the blindfold off my eyes, I felt relieved. It's like you finally allowed me to breathe."

"Do you still consider it strictly political and emotionless?" he asked, watching you carefully from above, searching for hints as of what do you feel. You smiled softly, your eyes following a little fish that shimmered under the water surface, swirling it's red-tinted tail.

"Do you truly not know the answer to that or do you just want to hear it?" you asked, sounding as light as if he asked you about something trivial like weather.

"I'm conflicted when it comes to finding the answer."

"I guess your incredible analytical skill doesn't apply to emotions, huh?" Joking, you dipped your fingers in the water, stirring its surface just as if you were trying to engage in a dance with those golden creatures swimming around you and somehow, it didn’t scare them away.

"At first I hoped just for unison, but you seemed so unachievable. I thought it's impossible to break through the cold walls you built around yourself. You make quite an impression at the first sight."

"I'm aware," Tobirama chuckled, observing you. Everything you did was fueled by the pureness of your heart and it was far from forced. "But you're stubborn."

It was heartwarming to think how much you've worked to pull him out of the protective shell as you were breaking in, ripping it piece by piece with every smile you gave him, every innocent touch and every kind word. You never gave up, even when he was indifferent to your efforts. Tobirama could never forget the wedding night, during which he escorted you safely to the bedroom that he thought will be yours, he wished you good night and left you to rest after the ceremony. It’s like the roles have been played and behind closed doors, there was no need to act it further. Nothing happen, the marriage was not consumed that night, and he was grateful for that. Many moons after, when you two got close enough to get intimate, it tasted much better.

"I was told I am, yes," you chuckled and got up, drying your hand on your clothes and looking up, straight into his eyes. "But I'm not acting towards you the way I am because that is my duty as a wife. I'm not acting towards anybody the way I am because that's what's expected of me. I love the village you and your brother founded and I love you dearly."

Tobirama stayed quiet for longer than he would expect, looking into your eyes, searching for anything what would say different than what your mouth delivered but he found nothing but sincerity. The soft feeling of your palm against his cheek sent shivers down his spine, and whilst you smoothed your thumb over his lips, he grabbed your hand gently and pressed a kiss onto it.

"You truly mean it," he breathed out, feeling his insides bubbling in excitement. "Am I dreaming?"

"Well, you do have exuberant imagination, my love, but I don't think that even the wildest dreams of yours would consist of me."

Tobirama chuckled at the truth he was hearing. You got to know him so well in such a short time. If he was to dream about his marriage before he met you, he would imagine it to be peaceful but cold. His own mind couldn't think of any affection towards himself or his wife, like his body knew it's incapable of it. He would wish for getting up before his wife, preferably sleeping in separate beds and then getting back to have a little talk if necessarily needed, then resting in quiet. He would wish his wife to stand up to the challenge of cherishing Konoha but not bother him too much. Mito would be a role model for that, as he was quietly looking up to his brother. The Uzumaki was cold and reserved when she first came to the village, she was representing the values correctly and respected Hashirama as her husband, but at first, they were just co-workers on the issue. It wasn't surprising for them to develop feelings. The oldest Senju had a heart made of gold and it was just a matter of time that they'll get closer, but Tobirama wasn't even close that. He wasn't warm and bright, he wasn't so openly inviting and first and foremost, he wasn't stupid to wish for love when he's so emotionally unavailable. But then you happened and he began wishing for things he wouldn't dare to wish for before. He began longing for every touch you had given him, for every smile he was responsible for, he even caught himself thinking about many long nights that you two spent not sleeping.  

Saying nothing more, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, surprising even you with the public display of affection. It wasn't news that Tobirama wasn't exactly the best in showing his love, but with you he felt comfortable. You gave him time and freedom to express himself how he felt acceptable and now you felt thrilled to the bone that he went for a kiss in a place where everyone could see you. It was short and followed by another peck on your forehead before he pulled you into his arms, caging you in safe embrace of his strong arms and his fresh scent.

"I-" he began but words stuck in his throat, his heart racing underneath your ear.

"I know, my love," you cooed softly, smiling. "I don't need to hear it in order to feel it."

He exhaled, unaware of how he held his breath for few moments. You were so good to him, so understanding.

"I don't know what I'd do if I'd lose you."

"Good thing I'm not going anywhere."

"Public displays of affection? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?" Familiar voice came from the side, breaking the moment and you chuckled at the wave of tension that washed over your husband's body just for a second before he relaxed once again.

"Am I not allowed to caress my wife?" Tobirama asked, slowly letting go of your silhouette to greet his brother.

"Oh, you absolutely can and should," Hashirama giggled, welcoming you as well whilst you gave him a nod. "I can't count how often I hear about your wife making someone's life better."

"I like to help," you giggled.

"I'm glad. Tobirama, I have a notice for you. Well, it's regarding both of you, so I decided the sooner you get it, the better."

Handing the letter to his brother, Hashirama gave him a second. Once your man opened the envelope and the paper inside, you tensed seeing the contents. You felt like your body had suddenly forgot to breathe, your airways clenched and you couldn't help but shiver.

"Your father has an issue to discuss with you and he wants you to pay him a visit," Tobirama read, pulling you closer to him. He sensed your uneasiness immediately, as he had learned already that your father is very specific person and by the way his request was formulated it was clear that he wanted you to come alone. Your dad is a smart man, aware of Tobirama's duties and not one of your meetings with him after marriage went smoothly. You were always distressed.

"Your wife is expected in Yugakure tomorrow evening, so it'll be the best if she leaves in the mid-day." Hashirama informed, knowing how problematic is the situation. He also had experienced the odd behaviors of your parent and empathized with you on the matter.

"I understand," you muttered quietly, feeling the living power exiting your body. It's not like you were afraid of your father, no. He had his own ways of taking care of you and he kept himself in order when you visited with Tobirama, but when him, or anyone from your village, caught you alone, then it all began. The constant insults, physical attacks, accusations. They all thought that your relationship with the Senju was meant to look different, that you shouldn't be so friendly with him, that you should serve him and not be equal. It was against everything Yu believed to be moral in relationships, with women in your village being servants to their husbands, always three steps behind, always with their heads low.

"Tobirama," hokage spoke, "I can take care of your duties in those days, you're free to join y/n."

"No, it's okay," you said, putting on a smile, "I can manage, I know your schedule, it's important."

It was a hard choice for you, but you couldn't expect Tobirama to not attend the negotiations that were meant to take place in Konoha in two days and take up to three. His brain was needed there, he was needed there more than by your side. If not for Tobirama’s intelligence, the village would be destabilized soon after its founding. He was the one who kept Hashirama in place, who made sure the finances are stable and everything works politically correctly. The oldest Senju was a perfect hokage – kind, strong, loving, but when it came to formalities, he was just too good and naïve, and your husband’s strict and logical approach was crucial.

"Are you sure?"

"100%."

[sonknuxadow]

jesus christttt im not surprised at all to hear that the knuckles series focuses on wade and other human characters a lot i saw this coming a mile away with how almost all the news we were getting before the trailer came out was about the human characters/actors and not about knuckles (or sonic or tails or any other animated characters) but the fact that somebody calculated how many minutes of screentime knuckles has and it came out as LESS THAN HALF OF THE ENTIRE SERIES' RUNTIME when the series is NAMED after him is ridiculous. after this show comes out wade will likely have more screentime and overall plot relevance in the entire scu than tails does. did they actually think wade is a popular enough character for people to be down with this. what the fuck

[shegxox]

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOUR: Overthinking

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt reminisces, and all of his thoughts revolve around you. When he accompanies Foggy to the hospital for a second time, he's nervous. Will he see you again? And how is he supposed to act around you?

Warnings for this chapter: slight angst, Matt's POV, attempt at humor, hint at gun violence

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: I'm back!! You guys are getting a double update today because this chapter is short af and I was on a roll.

Read Chapter 4: Overthinking here on AO3

The Braille underneath Matt’s fingertips feels unworn, freshly printed. His nostrils pick up on the heavy scent of coffee mixed with creamer from his mug. Foggy just had a sandwich from the deli around the corner; he asked for extra onions. There is a can of coke and a half-empty bottle of water next to his keyboard, muffling the sound of his fingers brushing along the keys but causing the liquid to vibrate ever so slightly in a way that Matt knows will soon cause him a headache. 

He forces himself to re-read the same passage of the case file before him for the third time. 

The Hudson moves with the wind, its waves crashing into the shore, and the air is starting to smell like the salt of oncoming rain. Those who aren’t busy with work or other responsibilities soak up the last few hours of sunshine of the day. 

Matt tilts his head toward the door. Karen shifts in her seat. Foggy lets out a soft groan of pain. He is paying attention to every minuscule detail around him without actively trying to. He wants to focus back on his work and not the myriad of sounds that are crashing into him like the waves of the Hudson are crushing into the docks, but he can’t. His mind is elsewhere. 

His knuckles are still bruised from the night before. Just thinking about it spikes his heart rate. Olivia. Or, as he learned at the hospital the other night, Olivia Clarke. That’s what you call yourself, at least. The name doesn’t do you justice. Matt wants to like it because it is your name, but something feels off whenever he thinks about it. Either he is overthinking or his gut feeling is right and you are hiding something else entirely, and it all starts with that name—Olivia Clarke. 

Matt can be too curious for his own good. For your sake, he should just leave it be, but he made a decision last night. He made a decision he shouldn’t have made, but he could hear your heartbeat across Hell’s Kitchen. He could smell the fear seeping out of your pores mixed with the purest essence of adrenaline. You got yourself into trouble and you wouldn’t have made it out if it hadn’t been for him. 

Perhaps he should have stayed away though. His actions have now complicated his already complex feelings, and you are present in every last thought that crosses his mind. And he can’t focus. He hates it when he can’t focus. He’s not just thinking about you; the curiosity is killing him, and he feels a pang of worry whenever he smells something that reminds him of you, or whenever your voice scratches the inside of his ear when he spreads his hearing out just a little too far. 

He doesn’t even have to actively search for you in the city to be reminded of you because you are already all over him. That is the only reason he came to save your life; you were already all over him when he picked the sound of your heartbeat out of a million others.

He is still so painfully unaware of most of your facets. You’re feisty, you’re sassy, you would rather fight your own battles than ask for help—but you’re everything but selfish. 

The way you carried yourself last night, the way your heart was beating, the way you were talking to that disgusting excuse of a human being after you saved a young woman from suffering a horrible fate, he knew that there has to be more to you than you let on.

He heard what you said to her before she ran away. The way you talked sounded so sincere—as if you were talking from experience, he believes—and that still makes his blood run cold now whenever he thinks about it. 

His not-so-accidental encounter with you has made him wonder what else you’re hiding from the world to protect yourself. And he can’t stop thinking about whether or not you are okay because under all of that curiosity is a big ball of concern and an odd kind of protectiveness that is just waiting to start rolling. 

You’re kind, you’re genuine and you’re warm. That perception of you hasn’t changed for him. If anything, his belief that you are a good person only manifested. You’re the kind of person other people can easily feel comfortable around. Your selflessness is what truly struck him. 

You didn’t ask where he got his injuries, you simply patched him up and that was it. And you saved a woman you didn’t even know from getting raped, and you faced the man who did it with nothing but a bottle of mace on your keychain. As much as he doesn’t want to understand why you wouldn’t leave him to die, he does get it better than anyone. You have morals. You took an oath. 

Matt has sworn to protect Hell’s Kitchen because the system is failing, and he is sure that if he told you that, you would understand. You didn’t even tell on him when you probably should have. You don’t see him as a threat. You weren’t scared of him last night. You weren’t even scared of death. 

You have dealt with men worse than him, you told him. He still wonders what you meant by that, but it can’t be anything good. Just like that, the spiral his mind has fallen into starts all over again. 

He left his number with the nurses at the hospital without even thinking that he would have to jump in and save your life a day later. Did you get his card? He followed his instincts, but now that it is nearing noon on the second day after first meeting you, he wonders if he made the right choice. 

You haven’t called him back yet, so maybe you didn’t get the card. Or maybe you did recognize him the other night and he is completely and utterly fucked. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re not interested in Matt Murdock. You’re not interested in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You may not even be interested in any man and maybe he made a huge fool out of himself. There is an infinite number of possibilities.

Matt stops moving his fingers over the Braille when the door to his office opens. It interrupts his thoughts, dispersing the picture of you in his mind. 

Your gentle voice, the way you laugh, the way you smile, and how your fingers felt on his bruised skin when you took care of him—It’s not a face, per se, but he sees you in a way beyond functioning eyes. He uses the faint memory of your scent and the melody of your heartbeat to paint a silhouette of golden flames, and you are strikingly beautiful to him. 

Maybe Foggy was onto something when he said that Matt has a knack for finding beautiful women with questionable morals. 

“Hey buddy,” Foggy says. 

Matt tilts his head upward, seemingly startled by his friend’s sudden appearance in his doorway. “Hey,” he replies.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“Oh, no.” He adjusts his glasses. “I just… didn’t see you there.”

In the other room, Karen almost spits out her herbal tea before she starts laughing. Foggy, on the other hand, stammers for a moment. 

“I—You’re awful, you know that?” 

Smirking, Matt closes the case file. “It was a bad joke, sorry,” he says. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask if you’re still up for taking me to the hospital after work,” says Foggy. “You know, the check-up?”

Matt frowns. “The–” He cuts himself off. “Oh, right. The check-up for your, uh, your shoulder.”

“Yeah. You said you’d come with me. You know, ‘cause,” Foggy leans a bit further into the office, lowering his voice, “you’re much better at this stuff than I am.”

“Are you dying?”

“No. What? Why would I—” He realizes quickly that Matt is just making fun of him, so he rolls his eyes. “No, Matt, I’m not dying,” Foggy answers. “I just… I don’t like doctors. I don’t know shit about my own body. But you do. You always know how to talk to ‘em. It’s like a very creepy superpower for a guy who hates doctors, to be honest. But anyway, they could tell me to amputate my arm and I would say yes. You know that. So, I need you to come with me.”

Matt sighs. “Why don’t you ask Karen? She has a car.”

From the entrance hall, Karen’s voice rings out. “That’s true,” she says. “And I wouldn’t mind–”

“No,” Foggy cuts her off. “No offense, Karen, and I appreciate the offer, but this is a thing between Matt and me.” He lowers his voice again, and Matt can only imagine how hard he is glaring at him right now. “You owe me, Matt. Remember that time in college?”

“Okay,” Matt leans forward, “That’s blackmail.”

“Is it working?” Foggy retorts. 

“Yeah.”

“Awesome! Two hours, buddy. I’m counting on you.”

Matt forces an exasperated smile. Foggy pats the doorframe with his functioning hand, and he turns around as if he just won the lottery. Walking past Karen’s desk, he even lifts his fist, which, as always, carries a baseball. Matt can hear the fabric brushing against his fingers. 

His thoughts drift again. Instead of focusing on the case file like he should, he thinks about the hospital. He thinks about how in two hours, he will be at Metro General again, and there is a chance that you’re working. Or maybe you’re not. He knows what the hours of hospital staff are—he knows the legal limits, and he becomes acutely aware of the shift changes because he hears them loud and clear, even across the city. 

What will he do if you happen to be there? Should he talk to you? Should he ask if you got his number or would that be taking a step too far? He doesn’t want to force you into a corner. If you aren’t interested, he has to respect that. And maybe, after all, that happened the night before, it is for the better that you haven’t called him yet. He shouldn’t seek you out. 

He wants to. God knows that Matt wants to find you at the hospital. Deep down, he wants nothing more than for you to call him. He knows it’s probably a bad idea, but he can’t stop his heart from wanting what it wants. Cutting it out would kill him, but sometimes he wishes he could. He wishes he could just turn it off and focus on what his common sense is telling him. But he can’t. You intrigue him too much. 

Two hours later, Matt and Foggy arrive at Metro General. Even with an appointment, the waiting room is packed. 

The noise hits Matt like a freight train. Beeping, clattering, groaning, screaming… It’s a sensory nightmare.

He’s sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, surrounded by noise and people and overwhelming smells, and he feels as if he’s being burned alive—as if someone is scorching his skin from the inside out. He wants to scrub himself from head to toe with antibacterial soap and burn the hairs in his nose that will carry the scent of antiseptic, blood, and other bodily fluids for weeks to come.

He wants to lock himself in an empty, soundproof room until his ears have stopped ringing, and he wants to meditate. Just for a little while, Matt wants to be someone else and exist somewhere life could be just a little easier. But he knows that the jumble of thoughts that is burning through his brain at high speed will get him nowhere. That’s not how real life works.

Matt is standing in front of the vending machine that is placed neatly against the wall in the middle of the hallway. He pressed the button for his favorite chocolate bar an eternity ago, and the machine still hasn’t spit it out. His luck must have run out. The buttons have Braille indents, but the machine isn’t working. He should have expected this to happen. 

His knuckles have gone white from the grip on his cane. He opens the first button on the collar of his dress shirt to breathe a little easier, but the oxygen he’s breathing still feels tainted when he inhales. He’s sweating. There are a million things he would rather do right now, including walking over hot coal barefoot, than be in this hospital right now. Too many thoughts, and too many feelings—he’s close to collapsing under the invisible weight he is putting on his own shoulders, and the vending machine still won’t give him his chocolate. 

Matt is starting to consider that God finally doomed him for all his failings. 

He put Claire at risk. His actions forced an innocent woman out of her home because she was kind enough not to let him die. Now, she’s in danger. She should stay far away from him, but he’s the one who keeps coming back for free medical attention. It isn’t fair. He knows that. 

Matt managed to save the little boy from the Russians, but he still hasn’t figured out what is happening in Hell’s Kitchen. He still hasn’t touched the bottom of a very big problem, and until then, Claire will be in danger, and he will keep failing. One victory doesn’t make it right. 

After all of that, he wouldn’t put it past God to forever doom him.

He tilts his head. He can’t make out your heartbeat in the chaos. Chances are that you’re not even there. Your voice is nowhere to be found and neither is that unique scent that sticks to your clothes like glue. 

The universe made the decision for him. He won’t search for you in this labyrinth. He won’t chase you down. You haven’t called him, and he doubts that you ever will. He left you his number in a moment of weakness. He was selfish when he did. He doesn’t want to be selfish anymore because his life puts those around him in danger. Your soul seems troubled enough; he doesn’t want to drag you into this the same way he dragged Claire into this. Matt can’t drag you into a war not even he knows how to fight. 

“There you are,” Foggy calls from the other end of the hallway. 

Tilting his head in his direction, Matt stops pressing the buttons on the vending machine. “Hey,” he says. “You’re back.” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. He lost all track of time. 

Foggy stops beside him. His movements sound freer—probably because the sling that held his arm in place is now gone. 

“What did the doctor say?” Matt asks him.

“All good,” says Foggy. “Yeah, I have my full range of motion back.” 

In an attempt to demonstrate, he rolls his once-injured shoulder, and his fist accidentally brushes against the vending machine. The chocolate that got stuck when Matt ordered it finally loosens, and it thuds against the metal bottom. 

The gears in Foggy’s head start turning. “Oh, a chocolate bar!” he sounds so happy that Matt’s first thought to grab it for himself dissipates into thin air. He closes his fist around his cane again, putting on a smile instead. 

“Did you want that?” Foggy asks.

Matt shakes his head and says, “Nah, you can have it.”

“Nice!” His smile is audible when he reaches into the bottom of the machine to take out the candy.

On their way out, Matt’s stomach drops. He isn’t sure why. His senses are on high alert, but there seems to be no obvious explanation as to why. He just feels this impending sense of doom, and it makes him even more acutely aware of his surroundings. He can hear every heartbeat, every breath, and every uttered word in the halls of Metro General. He hears things he never even wanted to hear. He smells things that he only picks up on when he focuses. He doesn’t want to focus, but the dark cloud that is starting to form over his head makes it impossible not to. 

Just as he and Foggy are about to pass the emergency room on their way to the exit, the cloud ruptures. Loud yelling can be heard even through the thin wall and the door that is separating it from the foyer. It’s so loud that even Foggy hears it. They both stop at the same time, Matt’s fingers tangled in his friend’s coat for some added support. He pulls him back, and they both turn toward the source of the noise. 

“Holy shit,” Foggy mutters. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Matt answers. 

In the distance, he can hear the clanking of keys and the echo of steel boots bouncing off the walls. There is a total of two security guards in the emergency room, but they called for reinforcements. And then, Matt’s blood runs cold. 

The sound of your heartbeat has become oddly familiar to him over such a short time. It’s beating faster than usual, but it is still uniquely yours. The sound doesn’t come from far away, either. It’s right on the other side of the wall among the obnoxious yelling that has already sent goosebumps down Foggy’s spine. Instantly, Matt classifies the change in rhythm as either a release of adrenaline or fear, maybe even both. It reminds him of the night before, but there is something different about it, still. The hairs on his arms rise toward the ceiling. His own heart starts hammering in his chest. 

He believed your shift to be over. What are you still doing here? And why does it sound like you’re in danger all over again, still trying to handle it on your own? Metro General is known for treating all patients, including those who are violent. The question Matt is asking him is whether or not you jumped in on purpose again or if your job simply put you in the line of fire this time. It sounds like a riot is happening, and the yelling only gets louder. 

Before he can open his mouth to say something, the security guards he heard getting ready storm past them. The gush of wind slaps him across the face. He didn’t expect Foggy to see that as an invitation to follow them. He’s always been a curious man, but he isn’t usually one to run toward danger. 

“I’m gonna check what’s going on,” he says as he brushes past Matt. “Stay here.”

Matt tightens his grip on his coat. “No! Foggy—” he can’t finish his sentence; his friend is already on his way. 

He groans, and he decides, against his better judgment, to follow him. 

The emergency room has fallen into chaos. Not the usual chaos of blood, disease, and gore, but a chaos that is charged with a dangerous tension that could snap and kill someone any second now. Matt doesn’t have to see to know what is going on. Foggy stops mid-way, and he almost bumps into him from behind. 

“Gun,” Foggy breathes. 

And you are standing right in front of it. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41

[raidtheradio]

Hard Morning

Summary: You help Arthur through a particularly hard morning.

Notes: I just wanted to write something short and simple hehe, I have this other series I really gotta work on I posted like one chapter then disappeared for a month. Anyway, I haven't edited this since it's midnight and I'm high I might edit it later though who knows.

Read it on AO3!

Arthur Morgan is dying, his sickly dry heaving reminds you every day. ‘Black Lung’ Micah calls him. The cruel nickname creates a devastating image in your head when you hear him heave.

He struggles through daily life, he helps you girls with camp chores that are normally left to the women and Mr. Pearson. Karen is often too drunk to walk, and Abigail struggles worrying about her husband in prison. With two people out of condition, the workload had been overwhelming for you and your partners in crime. You tell Arthur every day not to worry, that he should just rest and focus on getting better. He never listens, he’s always up. Chopping wood, feeding horses, repairing travel-worn carriages. Between the scores that Dutch always assigns him to, he somehow manages to bring home dinner for the camp. It’s not always enough, but it keeps you and the gang going. You remember a time when you woke up before the rest of your little family. You were still in your undergarments, and working to restart the fire so you could make a large pot of coffee. That was when you heard the too familiar sound of dry heaving. Micah's nickname echoed in your head as you rushed to the source. Arthur was sitting on the log used to chop wood, the axe in his hand was forgotten and a half-chopped log was on its side in the grass. You weren’t good with people, quiet and reserved. Your flawed social skills became prominent when you saw your dear friend struggle with something as simple as breathing. You stood there and stared, slack-jawed. This man could survive on a can of beans for a whole day, you’ve seen him tear through drunken men with his bare knuckles.  A whole tank reduced to a man. You could practically see his black lungs struggle to bring oxygen to his body. With every heave, you could hear the fluid filling his chest. You had no words for the dying man, so you placed your hand on his back. You began with light circular motions, not wanting to take his concentration away from breathing. When he finally began to stabilize you increased pressure. Your stomach was filled with cement, your brows upturned. 

“I’m sorry.” He heaves, and your chest begins to hurt as well. He shouldn’t feel the need to hide his pain the way he does. He was always around to lend people a shoulder to cry on. 

“Take your time friend.” You respond. He draws in air through his nose, and exhales through his mouth. He’d finally caught his breath, you pulled your hand away as he began to stand.

“That was bad.” Stupid, but you had nothing else to say. 

“I’m ok, thank you.” He bends down to grab the axe and log. You grab his hand, he stops and looks at you.

“There’s no need Mr. Morgan, there's plenty of wood already.” You start to lead him, and like a poorly trained horse he hesitantly follows. You set him down on a nearby chair and he watches as you start the fire. You’ve done this many times before, being the early bird in the camp. You shove scraps of dead leaves and twigs in the center of the little tiipii and before you could even ask, Arthur holds his lighter out to you. You didn’t know how he managed to get his hands on such a nice one, gold with antler engravings, but you didn’t  ask as he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. Soon the fire was blazing, and coffee was brewed. You settled yourself beside him and handed him his own cup. He took it, his large hands looking out of place as he grips the small handle. You take a sip and look out to the forest. 

“Everythings just gone to shit.” Arthur is never really one to complain. Actually that’s a lie. You remember giggling many times when you’d catch him swearing under his breath over something stupid Sean did. Aw, Sean. You missed the poor bastard.

“You’re right.” You look him in the eye. He looked as if he’s aged ten years in the past two weeks. His once bright blue eyes faded, his mouth downturned into a heartbreaking frown. “But we have coffee, and this nice view.” You gesture to the woods around you both, and you thank God for his beautiful work. Even if his world is cruel, he sure knew how to landscape. Arthur doesn’t even chuckle, his mouth cemented into his frown. You take his hand and rub your thumb over his bruised knuckles. You have nothing else to say, and neither does he. He sips his coffee while the first sounds of life come from Dutch's tent. Well, let the day begin.

[prolix-yuy]

Episode 1: Old Habits & New Beginnings

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader "Snaps", Tim Rockford x OFC "Eden"

Summary: Rockford’s mask slips for a moment with Eden. Dieter and Snaps get to know each other.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), grinding, mutual masturbation.

Notes: Welcome to the first episode of Midnight Alley! The response to Simulated was so overwhelming I had to continue their story. This series is going to have some fun playing with form and storytelling both in and out of the show. I hope you all enjoy it!

For anyone who missed Simulated and needs a quick refresher, Dieter's character in Midnight Alley is Tim Rockford, and our reader character Snaps will be playing Eden, Tim's love interest. Lots more will come out in further episodes, but until then enjoy the fun babes!

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Series Masterlist

A darkened room, moonlight filtering in through the blinds. The house breathes softly, expansively. No, not the house.

The couch shrouded in shadow moves. A hand reaches up, lined in silver light, and grabs the cushioned back. Knuckles prominent, but a feminine hand, twisting the upholstery in her fist. A car headlight rakes across the room, outlines of two bodies melting into the foreground before disappearing again. As the camera pans in, we hear whistling pants, and the rhythmic creak of the couch. A woman’s head is tossed back on the armrest, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. A hulking figure presses her into the cushions, the dim light highlighting her legs braced on either side. As our eyes adjust her features come into focus, camera tight on her upper body. Her patterned blouse is open, draped in crumpled wrinkles across her heaving chest. She’s familiar, but we can’t quite place her. Her body shakes, back arching as a quiet, wet noise tickles our ears off camera. 

“Tim…” she croons, a rasp at the end as a large, blunt-fingered hand slides up her stomach to wrap under her breast. A pop, followed by a thick sigh. 

“Good to know you’re not mistaking me for God anymore,” a voice rumbles, thick with lust as we watch her smile and reach for him. When he shuffles up to kiss her, Tim Rockford’s broad shoulders stretch white cotton across the screen. He deepens the kiss but pulls away quickly, making her chase his smirk. She nips at his chin, smiling when he curls his fingers around her jaw and thumbs her lower lip. 

“God’s never touched me in the ways you do,” she retorts, voice like velvet and smoke curling through our ears. The camera holds on Tim’s face, a rare gentle smile carved in the darkness. We can’t recall the last time his cheeks weren’t cut with frown lines, the permanent wrinkle between his brows miraculously smoothed. 

“I’m grateful you let me into your garden of Eden,” he says, tracing her figure below him. She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful. Cupping his cheeks, his eyes flutter. We sit up, pay attention now. There’s something different about this one. Rockford always treats his women well, leaves them sated and glowing, but rarely gains more than a modicum of weight lifted. This is something new, something special.

“Pretty sure what you were just doing would get you kicked out of Paradise,” she shoots back, earning a huff from his parted lips. He shakes his head, a glint in his eye as he shifts back down her body.

“Good thing I’m not a God-fearing man,” he says, one expansive palm lifting her leg to drape over his shoulder. He dips down, keeping eye contact as her thigh obscures his scruff-dusted jaw, when…

“Cut!” Adam calls, cameras whirring to a stop with a cacophony of shuffling shoes. Dieter sits back on his heels, rolling his shoulders as you stretch out your bent knees on either side of his hips.

“I still think he should have a wet face when he comes up for air,” Dieter says with an edge of petulance. It makes you smirk, turning your face into the couch to hide it from the director, but Dieter catches it.

“I told you it’s too much Di,” Adam says back, the exasperated tone of a parent telling their kid one last time he can’t have a cookie before bed. But in this case the cookie is a stroke to Dieter’s ego.

“Just saying, Rockford would be all up in there. He’s getting soaked. He’s not kitten licking her to completion, man is covered from nose to chin,” Dieter reasons, the hollow shout of, “Knock it off, Bravo,” coming from the back of the room where the intimacy coordinator sits.

“I���m fine, Molly,” you call back, settling into the couch as you roll your ankles and flex your knee. You’ve got one more scene in this position then it’s a set change, but your butt has started going numb and your legs are stiff after the constant faux gyrating. 

“Here, let me Snaps,” Dieter offers, scooting back to the end of the couch and wrapping his warm palms around your calf. You warm at the endearment, the playful moniker a result of Dieter catching you taking photos of everything on set. From the makeup trailer to the sweet lady who hands you sandwiches, you documented everything on your first day back. It’s still surreal, knowing that your name isn’t going to be a one-time showing in the credits. The photos serve as proof when you’re lying in bed and worried that you’re in some bizarre longform dream. 

Dieter presses a thick thumb into the meat of your calf, searching for a moment before a sharp pain races into your pelvis. “Got this tip from All Hands, my hips kept aching after shoots and Joji taught me this acupressure spot.” 

The sensation is like liquid fire running up your leg, but something is releasing around your hip joint. Dieter holds pressure there for a little while longer before slowly releasing, the pain subsiding. His hands don’t leave though, remaining spread and soothing on your calf. His left creeps slowly past your knee, thumb stroking the delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“Good trick,” you say back as casually as you can muster. No one else seems to have noticed, and you’d like to keep it that way.

It had only been one date. You didn’t want to get your hopes too high. Didn’t want to touch him like he’s touching you in front of too many people in case he’s done with you in a week.

Definitely didn’t want to touch him like that night.

He’d picked you up from your apartment, and while you didn’t expect him to be wearing a gun holster or a ratty t-shirt-sweatpant combo, you were surprised at how nicely he cleaned up. A loud button-up that you’re sure is by Gucci or Versace or some other name brand, the top three buttons open to reveal his smoothly freckled chest. Devastatingly fitted dark jeans that made his already swoon-worthy thighs all the more gorgeous. Rings glittering on his fingers as he tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. The wild mane he’s known for, and that you covet, as tempting as ever. 

He was oddly demure when you came out to meet him. He gave you a hug, a whiskery kiss on the cheek, and ushered you into his car. It took two minutes of silent driving, your heart hammering in your chest, before he blurted out, “You look fucking amazing, I think my brain just vacated my body for a minute there. Am I driving?” The nervous giggles devolving into snorting laughter shook you both, fighting to regain composure at the stoplight.

It was easily the most fun date you’d ever been on. The place he took you was out of the way enough that paparazzi wouldn’t be hovering for photos, but not so intimate to assume it was a precursor to a quick fuck. The conversation hopped from past work to favorite hobbies and actor in-jokes. He complimented you on your theater training, you complimented him on his movie trivia knowledge. You shared tapas and white wine sangria, Dieter speaking to the servers and staff in Spanish with a warmth that hinted at a long-term friendship. You shared a caramel flan and he ghosted his fingers over your hand. 

It’s so different from what you thought Dieter might be like.

Sure, as he’d gotten older his escapades had faded several pages back into the tabloids, but he’d been wild for a time. A new scandal, a lover speaking out. Mostly things that inferred him being a wild partier, or an exhibitionist, or hedonistic to a point that made you blush. You half expected the date to be at a loud bar or a celebrity hot spot. The fact that it’s soft and quiet makes you reconsider how soft and quiet Dieter might be under all the bravado.

When he parked out front of your apartment you blurted out an invite up, which he accepted with a sly smile. The heat of Dieter’s presence tingled up your spine, but he only sat on your worn couch and accepted a glass of whiskey. So you talked. And talked. And laughed. And flirted. And you would have worried that he had a terrible time and was trying to let you down easy except for the fact that it was nearing one in the morning and he hadn’t left. 

When your anxieties bubbled to the surface and past your lips he pulled you into his lap and kissed you until your lungs burned and your head swam. “I wanted, for once, to take it slow. With you,” he admitted, sliding his hands up your spine with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t want you to think all I wanted was a one nighter.” When he cautiously looked up at you through his thick lashes your awe-struck smile smoothed the wrinkle between his brows.

Dieter didn’t fuck you that night. He deserved an Oscar for denying himself that, especially when you pressed so sweetly against his growing erection. Instead he guided your hips to roll against him, mouthing at your neck and telling you how good you felt, how pretty you were on top of him, how he couldn’t believe how sexy you are. A shuddering little orgasm flooded your brain, making you loose-limbed and heavy on his lap as he rocked you through it. The insistent lap of your tongue and scrape of your teeth against his mouth softened into indulgent kisses that dragged you closer to sleep. Dieter’s voice cut through the fog - “As much as I’d like to, I probably can’t carry you to bed with my shitty back,” - and he helped you stumble under the covers, leaving with a gentle kiss to your lips, another on your forehead.

That night would remain secret and special to only you. Something no one could syndicate. 

“Better?” Dieter asks, his attention narrowed in on your face. His fingers still dance inside your thigh.

“Much. Thanks Di,” you say breezily, settling into your starting position again. Dieter repositions, read to dive back in (figuratively). His coffee eyes catch yours again, a little anxiety of his own coloring his usually confident smile.

“Dinner at my place tonight?” he asks quietly, and he probably doesn’t know how vulnerable his voice sounds. It pulls a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, sounds great.”

Adam’s voice cuts into your conversation.

“Quiet on set!”

“Good thing I’m not a God-fearing man,” Rockford says, one expansive palm lifting her leg to drape over his shoulder. He dips down, keeping eye contact as her thigh obscures his scruff-dusted jaw, when…

The telephone rings.

They freeze, frustration etching deep into his face.

“I’m sorry, I have to…” he groans, untangling himself from her limbs. The camera cuts to the kitchen, an outdated corded phone hanging off the yellow wall. Rockford, dressed in dark slacks and an open button-down and undershirt, stalks in to stop the offensive ringing. He holds the phone to his ear, the steely expression melting into disappointment, and resignation. While he exchanges a few low questions with the person on the other end of the line, the woman emerges from the shadows. The brighter wash of light reveals that we do know her. She’s the one he picked up in the bar three episodes ago, now standing in a blouse she’s wrapped around her chest and a pair of white socks. She watches Rockford’s back, waiting a beat after he hangs up the phone to wrap her arms around him. He settles his hands over hers, head tilting back as she rests her forehead between his shoulder blades.

“They found something. It can’t wait,” he says simply, a weariness returning to his broad shoulders. “I can take you home on the way.” 

“I could stay,” she offers, Rockford turning in her arms. “So you don’t have to come back to an empty house.”

He cups her cheek, a grateful look quickly replaced with regret. She watches, nods. We all know that can’t happen. Not yet. There’s too much standing between them for him to accept. 

“I’ll get dressed,” she says, walking back into darkness. Rockford braces his hands on the door frame, hanging his head. He takes a breath, then follows.

The ungodly moan you let out makes Dieter’s lips quirk up into a prideful smile.

“That good?” he asks.

“Fuck, Di, where did you learn to cook like this?” you say through a half-full mouth of the best pasta you’ve ever had. His cheeks flush prettily as he pushes his own around the bowl, another forkful already on its way to your lips.

“I’ve got a handful of home runs I save for special occasions,” he says, taking a sip of the red wine he decanted while you were walking in the door. “But outside of that? I’ll gladly order takeout.”

“It’s fantastic, thank you for making it,” you say, enjoying how he busies himself with his plate to smile into his chest. It makes your own smile tug at your cheeks. You know how hot he can be, how sexy and thoughtful and suave, but he’s also cute?

After a spirited discussion about some of the dialogue in recent seasons - nobody talks like that coming up against it’s a play on the trope - you help clear the table and loiter in the kitchen while Dieter puts the dishes in the sink. The immaculate marble countertop, plus a little of the wine thrumming in your veins, tempts you to hop up and sit on it as he rinses out the wine glasses and sets them on a drying rack. The dishes are sparse, only four bowls, a handful of cups. The kitchen is artfully, but not practically styled. You meant to ask if this was Dieter’s home or if he was renting it, the modern pristine aesthetic clashing against what you know of him, but before you can voice your thoughts Dieter is standing in front of you, hands on your knees.

“Would you like some dessert?” he asks, the dip in tone carrying the thrum of your heartbeat straight between your thighs. Heat creeps up your neck and blooms across your chest, but you hold to the words Dieter soothed you with last time.

Take it slow.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, letting Dieter part your thighs to stand between them. One hand slips around your waist, the other skimming up your arm to cup your neck. He has to tilt his head up to look at you, and from this vantage you can admire the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the deep crease in his bottom lip, the little scar on the bridge of his nose from an old on-set injury. You can’t help melting into him, sliding your fingers into the unruly locks at the base of his neck and holding him precious in your hands. His eyes slip shut, and you swear you hear a low purr rumble in his chest.

“Something delicious,” he whispers before he pulls you down to meet him. 

It’s as intoxicating as the first time, his lips slotting between yours while he sighs like a man returned home. The tips of your noses brush as he tilts his head to better lick into your mouth, tannic laps as you savor each other. His hands pull you closer to the counter edge, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist. The plush flesh of his stomach presses against your core, and for a moment you imagine grinding against him, coating his skin in your slick. How he would look watching you writhe against him. Was he the kind of man to cast dark, demanding eyes along your skin, or watch you like a goddess with wonder?

A final sweep, and he parts from you with a little pant and shiny lips.

“Fuck, I said I was going to go slow and you’ve got me wanting to toss all that out the window,” he says, stealing a smaller kiss from your parted lips. 

“I like where this is going right now,” you say breathlessly, rolling your hips along his clothed stomach. He groans, pressing your foreheads together.

“I’d like to have dessert first,” he says, and you’re about to ask him how he can think of food at a time like this when two large, firm hands slide under your skirt and search for the hem of your panties. Once located, he drags them down your legs, aided by the lift of your hips. They’re a lacy pair, more substantial than a thong but not by much. He crumples them in his hand and slips them in his pocket.

“Can I eat your pussy, Snaps?” he breathes, ghosting his lips over the top of your thigh, dragging his nose along the stretch of your skirt hem. Your cunt is practically gushing, but you still have to laugh.

“I can’t believe you used that cliche-ass line,” you giggle, Dieter’s eyes snapping up to your mirth at his expense. 

“I think it worked,” he drawls out, and one hand slips between your legs to thumb at your soaked folds. “Made you fucking drenched, didn’t it?” Your tongue struck dumb, he steals a glance at your face. “Oh, yes it did. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he says, smug smile giving way to the open-mouth kisses he trails down your thighs as he fists your skirt up over your hips. The shock of cool marble on your bare ass steals your breath before Dieter’s lips pressing a chaste kiss just above your clit suffocates you. One large hand spreads across your chest, gently pressing you back to lay on the expansive countertop. Your whole body thrums in anticipation as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, pressing your hip open so he can breathe you in.

“Fuck, Snaps, you’re not dessert, you’re a whole damn meal,” he groans. A retort dances behind your teeth before dissolving to nothing when Dieter’s tongue slides slowly over your clit, savoring your taste. He pulls back, staring at your silky pussy on display, then with a whispered, “fuck,” he dives in for more. 

The tenacity and fervor with which Dieter slurps and moans into your cunt clenches your walls and bows your spine. He grips your thighs, spilling flesh between his fingers as he swirls his tongue on your clit and sucks greedily. There’s nothing for you to hold onto on the smooth counter, so you bury your fingers in his hair to an approving growl that vibrates your core.

“Just like that, you tasty little thing, give it a good pull if I’m doing well,” Dieter rasps, sliding his tongue down to prod your entrance. Thighs tightening, hips rolling, you feel gloriously untethered to the world except for Dieter’s touch. After working his tongue inside you he presses deeper into your folds, hawkish nose sliding over your clit. He rocks his face against you, a mess of his pulsing tongue, hot puffs of air against your intimate flesh, and his dark eyes coaxing gush after gush of slick into his waiting mouth. 

Fuck ever faking it with him again, Dieter could rail you on set in front of craft services and you’d thank him for it.

The shudder of your impending orgasm raises your voice, hoarse gasps and whines as Dieter intensifies his technique, rubbing hard circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue and sliding one perfectly thick finger inside you. You throw an arm over your eyes, coherent enough to whimper and weakly wail when he presses into your g-spot and drags your clit along his tongue in a neverending roll. It’s right there, you’re going to cum on Dieter’s face, when…

A phone rings.

Dieter’s phone.

The harsh tones of Apple’s default ringer still your hips, Dieter’s mouth still moving against you. 

“Di…” you call out weakly, tapping your fingers against his temple to get him to look up at you. His mouth pops off, and true to his on-set assumption he’s coated from the bridge of his nose to the base of his chin with your slick. It glistens in his mustache, one silvery smear dragging up his cheek. His eyes are glassy and fucked-out when he meets yours.

“Wha’s wrong?” he slurs, licking his lips and suppressing a groan. Your cunt clenches hard, screaming to cum.

“Your phone,” you say, the glow across the room visible from the coffee table. He looks over at it for a moment, slow blinking when he returns to your face.

“And?” he asks, blankly taking in your nervous energy.

“It could be…something…important?” you squeak out, legs still splayed lewdly around him. He watches you for a moment more, puzzling through something, before understanding dawns on his face. 

“How much like Rockford do you think I am?” he asks, leaning down and pressing a sticky kiss just above your bellybutton. It makes your abdomen jump, the tickle of his mustache trailing as he slides your shirt up below your breasts. “Do you think anything at all is worth tearing myself away from your gorgeous fucking body?” He licks a line up to your bra, scraping his teeth on the supple skin. “You think a phone call could stop me from making you scream?” 

His hands and mouth still, prompting you to sit up to stare at his hungry face. Hair disheveled from your hands, a flush across his cheeks, and a devious smile all answer his questions, but you know he needs you to say it.

“No.”

His smile turns devilish.

“Good girl.”

With increased voracity he returns to your cunt, sucking his fingers into his mouth before strumming them quickly over your clit. The stimulation arches your back and snaps your thighs closed around his head, only stopped by one hand pressing you open mercilessly. The wrecked gasp he tears from your throat stops the onslaught, redirecting two fingers deep into your cunt to press hard into your g-spot, his hot tongue back on your clit with a pattern of quick circles and soft laps. You scrabble for his hair, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the fingers wrapped around your thighs. He finally gives you something, threading your fingers together so you can grip him while your orgasm burns you from the inside out. Your lungs scream, eyes screwed shut as Dieter pours molten pleasure into you, fire and ice and ecstasy. He growls into your cunt, refusing to stop until your spasming hips fall back to the counter and each breath ends on an overstimulated gasp. Only then does he lift up to gather you in his arms, pulling you around him so he can mouth at your neck and trail kisses back to your gasping mouth. He strokes long paths up and down your thighs, letting you drape over his broad shoulders and rest your head. Faintly you still hear ringing, but so far away that it could be a dream.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs into your ear, earning a weak tug of his hair. “I knew you’d be fucking delicious.” 

“Shit, Di, did you suck my soul out?” you joke, laughter rumbling you both.

“Now you know how I felt when I first saw you,” he muses, stroking the back of your neck. You turn your face into his throat, savoring the warmth and masculine scent of his sweat. The ringing pauses for a few seconds, then starts back up again. 

“Do you need…” you ask, leaning back to smile down at Dieter. He rolls his eyes.

“On principle I’m not going to answer it for the rest of the night. Camille has my calendar, she should know better,” he says, dipping his head to scrape his teeth on your collarbone. Your thighs clench around his waist, his supple mouth dotting a kiss over his teeth marks.

“Unlike Rockford, I don’t put my work above my partners,” he says nonchalantly, as if that word doesn’t make you lightheaded. “I also don’t drown myself in drink and drugs as heavily, or engage in as much casual sex as I used to.” His hands splay wide over your back, brushing your noses together as you fight to meet his eyes. “My dark and brooding past is mostly full of self-loathing and coping mechanisms, not failed murder investigations.” Dieter draws you closer to the edge of the table, his hard cock grazing your core just enough to make you hum into his ear. “And I’ll make you cum three times tonight, not two.”

You take a playful nip at Dieter’s ear, the clink of his earring against your teeth thrilling.

“Is your technique as good as his?” you ask innocently, his hands suddenly possessive on your skin. 

“Better,” he promises. Then he takes you to his bed and proves it.

END

[panda-writes-kpop]

bloodsucker, famefucker

A/N: Happy early Halloween, folks! For those who are unaware, I post a light-hearted, sweet fluffy fic and then something more on the horror, gore side of things. This fic is my horror one, so I'd skip this if you're more of a fluff person! I hope the haunted season has gone well for you, and I look forward to bringing more Halloween joy next week. :)

TW: Vampires, horror-esque descriptions, blood, violence against Reader/SuA, home invasion, biting, major character death, mentions of cheating and being a bad partner, OOC SuA, friendship break-ups, the best kind of angst, magic but I bend it to the plot's will, partying, alcohol mentions (everyone mentioned is old enough to partake)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by Vampire (Olivia Rodrigo) and Control (Halsey), and the lovely @sanccharine mishaps gone right series. 🫶 ty for reading this fic ahead of time, and I apologize for any future transgressions in relation to a sequel. ;)

Word Count: 5.2K

( <- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

Summary: You're stuck in a rut a few months after your break-up with Bora, but a friendly date helps you feel ready to jump back into dating. Your ex, however, decides that she has to stick her fangs into you one last time to show who's really over who.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Vampires suck.”

“Yeah, well, no shit,” Yoohyeon sighs before throwing her flashcards against the table, “how am I supposed to pass this exam with basic information like that?”

You sit across from the table in a private study booth on the second floor of the campus library. Yoohyeon, your best friend since high school, is studying for her first Vampiric History exam as you are trying, and horribly failing, to focus on your homework for Applied Mathematics For Sorcery. 

Your focus falls back to the screen as your phone displays a bright collection of images from someone you followed. Her smile is bright and immortal, given the sharp front teeth that are proudly bared, but that’s not what you’re focused on. 

The fourth picture, since you had dared to scroll that far, was the same vampire locking lips with another vampire from a different coven. 

The problem was that you had forgotten to block all of your ex-girlfriend’s friends on all social media, and you were currently staring at a picture of SuA kissing someone else two months after you broke up.

You carelessly toss your phone on the table, forgetting to lock the screen, as Yoohyeon curiously eyes your phone.

“Don’t tell me you’re-“

“-She cheated on me, Yooh. How am I supposed to forgive her?”

“You didn’t, and you walked away from her,” She digs in her backpack, presumably for a snack, “as you should have.”

“Is it okay to not be over her?”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Yoohyeon tosses a granola bar across the table for you before opening hers, “it���s her loss. You’re the coolest person I know.”

A light smile rests on her face - Yoohyeon always knew how to make you feel better.

“Thanks, Yooh,” You say as you grab the granola bar on the table, “do you have any clue how to solve geometry in relation to spell casting?”

“No, so we’re going to go ask Dami for help.”

You shrug before closing your computer and beginning to pack your stuff up.

“Works for me.”

~

“Dami-ah!” Yoohyeon pounds on the dormitory door as you pull your backpack over your shoulder.

Your mind wanders back to the photos you saw earlier as Minji, SuA, and Siyeon partied together as if you all weren’t close a few months ago.

As if it wasn’t your fault that your friend group was split in two.

“Dami, answer the damn door before Yoohyeon breaks it down!” Handong calls from the inside as Yoohyeon continues to rap her knuckles against the door.

“I got it!” Gahyeon yells before the door opens. “You guys could have called-“

“I know, but we wanted to surprise you-“

“-You need help with your homework?”

“We do.” You mumble in defeat as Gahyeon gives you a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you, y’know?” She rubs your shoulder before giving you a reassuring look. “You’re more than welcome here at any time, okay?”

“Thank, Gahyeon,” You pause as you let out a deep breath, “I needed a distraction.”

“You saw Bora’s post, didn’t you?” Gahyeon rolls her eyes before closing the door behind you and 

Yoohyeon. “We should throw a party, or like a mixer! It would be so much better than what she did.”

“As long as it’s not in this dorm room, I’m down with the idea.” Handong adds in as she is perched on the top bunk of the bunk bed.

Gahyeon crashes on the bunk below Handong as Yoohyeon hops on the bed on the other side of the room.

“Dongie, have you started studying for that exam yet?” Yoohyeon asks as she pulls out her notecards.

“A bit. Do you want to study together?”

“Please help me.” Yoohyeon sets her backpack on the bed as you set your stuff on the bed next to hers.

Your eyes turn to the desk next to the bunk bed where Dami is studying for one of her more advanced classes.

“Do you need help with math?” She asks while doing a computation on her phone.

“I could use help for Applied Mathematics in Sorcery from my favorite sorceress.” You teasingly say as you grab some materials from your backpack.

Dami raises one hand up, and without breaking attention from her studies, she pulls another chair up to the desk.

“Thanks for that,” You set down your notebook, pencil, and computer, “and I apologize in advance because you’re going to need to re-explain this entire chapter to me.”

~

“Why does everything you say make more sense than whatever the professor was going on in class?” You sigh in relief as you submit a perfect homework assignment online.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help with anything.” Dami takes care to emphasize the last word as your phone buzzes.

“I’m sorry,” You pause for a moment to grab your phone from the table, “let me look at this before we change subjects.”

You open up the notification that takes you straight to your text messages.

Unknown Number: Jagi, I’m sorry that I hurt you so much.

Babe, why won’t you answer my texts? I know you blocked me but I missed up.

*Messed ypu. 

Fuck, I just miss you, and I’m not sorry about it.

“Who is it?” Yoohyeon peeks over the top of the bunk bed as you toss your phone to her.

Dongie manages to catch it before Yoohyeon’s face does, and they gasp in sync with one another.

“She did not-“

“Oh, she did,” Yoohyeon looks at the alarm clock with a chuckle, “and she’s already drunk before nine o’clock.”

A hand on your right arm pulls you back to Dami, who looks at you with confusion and concern mixed together in her gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired of the constant reminders that I wasn’t enough for her. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever truly be over her, or if I’m just going to miss her for the rest of my life.” You quietly admit as Gahyeon snatches your phone out of Dongie’s grasp.

“What are you-“

“-That’s it! I’ve had enough of them,” Gahyeon spits out before grabbing her phone, “and we’re going to do something about it. Everyone, clear your schedules on October 30th. We’re throwing the best party that this campus has ever seen!”

Gahyeon hands you back your phone, and you quickly shove it in your pocket as she starts typing on her phone.

“This is great and all, Gahyeon,” Handong climbs down the bunkbed to grab something from the mini fridge, “but I’m only okay with this plan if they are.”

Dongie’s eyes meet yours as she quickly places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before bending to grab a drink from the mini fridge next to you.

“I think it’ll be fun, especially with Gahyeon planning it.” You gently move Handong’s hand from your shoulder as you nod at Gahyeon. “Just let me know what I need to bring, okay?”

Gahyeon cheerfully pumps her free hand in the air as the other girls laugh at her antics.

“Okay, Yooh and Dongie, since you’ve got the most experience with party planning, I’ll need you to-“

Your eyes go back to Dami, who wistfully stares at the girls in front of her.

“You don’t have to go, y’know?” You take her hand on your arm and interlace your fingers with hers as you set your hands on the table, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable just for my sake.”

“I don’t mind, I promise. I just don’t like going to parties that-“ She pauses until you nod at her for permission, “Bora and Siyeon used to drag me to.”

“If Gahyeon gets too out of hand, Dongie will reel her back in. I want this to be something fun for all of us, a moment to stop worrying about school for a night.”

“Are you sure that school is all that’s on your mind?” Her eyes dare to read within your mind, and despite the turbulence within your heart, you find yourself at peace when discussing such matters with Dami.

“I don’t know if I miss SuA anymore, or if I just miss having someone to tell every silly little thing to.” You confess.

“You know I’m always available to talk to you, no matter the hour or day, right?” She asks as you nod, “As for the other matter, why not put yourself out there again? Just go on a less formal date, something low-commitment, to see if you want to go back into the realm of dating.”

There’s a spark of expectation and hopefulness in her as her eyes linger on your intertwined hands for a moment, but her gaze quickly returns back to you as you open your mouth.

I wonder what that was about…

“For someone who doesn’t do a lot of dating, you have awfully good dating advice,” You tease as a small blush crosses her face, “and that’s not a bad idea. I think it would be good to put myself out there again, just 

as a test.”

~

Dates were something of a new area for you, as most of your dates with SuA included staying home and studying or going out with friends and partying. You were also around a group, so you had the comfort of a friend to look at for.

Here, in the coffee shop, it was just you, the coffee cup you were holding on to for dear life, and a cute elven girl named Chou Tzuyu.

“How are you finding your studies?” She asks before tucking a small piece of hair behind her ear.

You were, to say the least, mesmerized by her beauty, so you cough and shyly look away when you notice that she is speaking to you.

“They’re going well, but having an individualized major instead of a set path of study can be stressful at times.” You admit as you recall your struggles with math earlier in the week. “Math has been a struggle for me, but I have a friend who is bright like you.”

“I’m not the only one you get answers from?” She raises an eyebrow at you as you scoff.

“I can do the homework for my humanity-focused classes, but these sorcery classes are kicking my ass.” 

You roll your eyes as you think of the pile of math homework awaiting you. “I’m thankful for your help with the history classes, you are a lifesaver.”

“You’re helping me practice teaching when I go for advanced studies at the university, so I am thankful for you as well.”

You take a small sip from your cup as your thoughts wander again.

This is going okay, and she’s really pretty, but I’m not feeling anything special like I did with-

“Why did you ask me on a date?” Tzuyu directly asks as your heart sinks in your chest. 

Oh no, she’s going to think this is a rebound and I’m going to lose another friend after everything-

“You don’t have to tell me, though,” She gently grabs your hand before you squeeze your coffee cup past its 

breaking point, “but I think there’s someone else you’d rather be here with, no?”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows jump to the top of your forehead as an amused smile dances across her features.

“Oh, you didn’t know that she…” Tzuyu trails off before shaking her head. “It’s not my business, though. You’ve got a great group of friends behind you.”

“Does that still include you?”

“Of course, who else will help you with your history classes?” 

You smile before taking another sip from your coffee cup.

Maybe this ‘date’ wasn’t a total failure.

~

You slip through the large crowd of people who have collected in the living room of Gahyeon’s friend’s house. She was out of town for a couple of weeks, right around Halloween, so Gahyeon got permission to do so. The only caveat was that the five of you had to clean up and stay the night to make sure the house was taken care of, but Gahyeon roped everyone into it without much worry.

Without a red solo cup in your hand, you do stand out, but Gahyeon committed to having a dry party that could still be fun without excessive drinking. You had to hand it to her - the set up of the party and the house allowed for all sorts of activities for all sorts of people. 

You were in charge of food, so after grabbing another food tray for the spare bedroom, you were trying to make it through the crowd in one piece. While batting stray hands and partiers away, you offer a quick wave to Tzuyu, who stands in the corner by herself.

She joins your side once you break from the crowd, and you make a sharp left as she follows your pace.

“The party’s great.” She says as you knock on the bedroom door.

“You should be thanking Gahyeon. This is all her idea, I just showed up with a few food trays.” You push any praise to Gahyeon, who opens the door with a large smile.

“Thank you!” She snatches the tray from your hands as Tzuyu leans on the doorframe. “You both are welcome to come in - we’ve got plenty of board games to spare!”

“I thought you would’ve been out with the music and partiers, Gahyeon.” You step inside the room before looking back at Tzuyu. “You want in?”

“I think I’ll head back to the living room. Dahyun said she’s challenging someone to a dance-off, and I have money riding on her winning it, so I need to make sure my investment was worth it.”

You laugh to yourself before waving her off.

“Have fun with that, Tzuyu.”

She nods before disappearing back into the hallway.

You turn to look at Gahyeon, who admires you with wide eyes.

“So…?”

“There’s nothing between us, I promise,” You grab a piece of cheese from the tray and toss it in your mouth, 

“but it was nice to try to go on a date. I’ve been missing that sort of connection in my life.”

“That’s good-“

“Ah, Yoohyeon, the point of the game is to avoid my property-“ Dongie teases Yoohyeon from the left side of the bed as Yoohyeon folds her arms and huffs.

“Yah, you’re so mean to me!”

“Pay up,” Handong holds out her hand for money, and Yoohyeon reluctantly places the cash in her hand, “now, was that so hard?”

“I don’t like this game,” Yooh pouts before her eyes land on you, “c’mon, we should play a new game so all of us can play together.”

“The five of us can play Monopoly-“ Dami chimes in as Gahyeon sets the tray down on the nightstand.

“-Let’s just play Mario Kart before Yoohyeon owes Handong real money.” You settle the argument by turning 

on the Switch as Yoohyeon cheers.

“See, I knew you’d have my back!”

~

Gahyeon and Handong are perched on the bed as you and Yoohyeon sit against the front of the bed. Dami moved her chair closer to the TV so the five of you can play together. 

Most of the freeloading partiers have gone home, so there’s no need for the five of you to take shifts to manage the crowd. The only people left are friends of friends who are raiding the last of the snacks and drinks before heading out of the door.

“That was a really successful party, Gahyeon,” You say as the winning animation plays on the screen, “and it looks like everyone who came had a great time.”

Gahyeon smiles brightly before excitedly pulling out her phone.

“I bet the whole party is all over everyone’s socials,” She taps her screen a few times before her eyes widen, “oh shit!”

Your head snaps back, along with Yoohyeon’s, at her exclamation.

Dongie leans over to look at Gahyeon’s phone, and she has a remorseful look on her face.

“Minji was here.”

“Minji was here?” You and Dami say at the same time as Yoohyeon immediately stands up.

“I’m going to go out and chase everyone else off… just in case we have any lurkers.” Malice slips into the last word she speaks as Yoohyeon quickly exits the room.

You want to offer to help, but you don’t think you can face her after everything that has happened with Bora.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Dami slides off her chair before sitting next to you, “we chose to stand by you when everything happened.”

“You all were friends long before Bora and I got together, and I-“ You pause as tears threaten to fall from your face, “I ruined everything.”

“You ruined nothing,” Dongie reaches towards you and rubs your back for a moment before looking at the phone again, “but I learned that some of my friends weren’t who I thought they were.”

“If I had known…” Gahyeon wistfully says before putting her phone aside, “If I had known that SuA had cheated on you, I would’ve told you right away. The worst part about everything wasn’t hearing it from you - no, we heard it directly from her, and she was proud of what she did.”

Gahyeon sniffles before the waterworks come out, and you find yourself wiping away tears as Handong wraps an arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” Dami repeats as you lay your head on her shoulder, “I would choose you a thousand times over. I think about how everything played out, sometimes, when I go to sleep, but I don’t regret anything. I met one of the best people in my life after everything that happened, and I couldn’t be more thankful.”

“Minji and Siyeon chose their sides, as we chose ours,” Handong reassures you while holding on to Gahyeon, “and I don’t miss the drama, the fights, and the black-out parties.”

You laugh as you wipe away more tears.

“Those parties were awful,” You reminisce as a memory comes to mind, “I remember having to nearly carry SuA home because she was drunk past the point of walking straight.”

“Forget walking - Siyeon tried to kiss me!” Handong exclaims as you laugh alongside her.

“I do miss them, sometimes,” You softly admit while playing with your shirt sleeve, “and I wonder if things had played out differently, if we’d still be friends.”

“I think those ‘what-ifs’ are better left alone, at least for tonight,” Dami gently wraps her arm around your shoulder as you lean into her body more, “we’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

~

“Babe, c’mon! Pictures are fun.” SuA tugged on your sleeve as you fixed your hair in the reflection of your phone screen.

“I don’t look my best, and you always look so much better than I do.” You pull your sleeve away from her before putting your phone away.

“At least you can see what you look like!” SuA yells before stomping off to go meet with the campus photographer.

Confusion mixed with anxiety makes an unholy cocktail, one that’s worse than whatever is in the red solo cup in your hand. You toss the drink to the side of the yard before throwing the cup away as the thought of SuA’s recent uptick in outbursts gnaws at your mind.

Was it you? Did you say something wrong? Your hair and outfit really was a mess from dancing at a crowded party, and you weren’t in the mood to get photographed. Was that such a grievance in your mind?

You probably struck a bad nerve by looking at your phone, considering her lack of reflection, so it would be best if you apologized so you could move on. You wonder how many more times she’ll run off before you stop chasing her.

You shake off the thought, she’s probably just stressed from midterm exams. You push through the crowd of people in the backyard as you head inside the frat house. Before you lost sight of her, she had been heading to the living room to see the photographer that wanted to take a picture of “the happy couple”.

Only if they knew.

You break through the crowd once you’re inside, and a quick glance to the left tells you that you’re not getting through the line of people waiting to use the restroom. You turn to the right, and are met with a frightening display in the living room.

Your girlfriend, the girl you adored from the moment you met her, had her hands and lips all over someone else.

Part of your heart, part of your innocence, and part of your joy shriveled up and died in that moment, but not just because of SuA.

It was watching two of your older friends, the two people you trusted most, watch the scene in front of them unfold as if nothing was wrong. You didn’t scream or cry, not right away. You simply turned back around, pushed through the crowd of people with more force than before, and got a ride home. 

A simple text saying “We’re done” and a few blocked phone numbers and social media accounts were enough justice for you, but the world is a karmic bitch who likes to have the last laugh. Before you blocked SuA, she had posted a video of the scene you had just witnessed, with one simple caption:

“For you, my dear.”

~ 

In a sweat, you pull the blanket off of you and sit up on the air mattress. Gahyeon sleeps peacefully to your left (the girls played rock-paper-scissors for the spot and she won), and Yoohyeon and Handong are fighting over the covers on the bed in their sleep.

After rubbing your eyes and grabbing your phone, you glance over to the cot where Dami was sleeping, only to notice that she was no longer there.

Weird.

Turning on your phone, you blind yourself with the power of a thousand suns before looking at the time.

2:33 a.m., and I went to bed at 1:00 a.m. It’s going to be a long night.

Nightmares came and gone, but they were always supposed to be based in fantasy or fear, not reality. 

Having the same scenario play out, over and over again, as if you can change anything that had happened, was maddening. 

You would usually call one of your friends when you felt like this, but they were all sleeping peacefully, so you decided to look for the other person who would be awake at this hour. Dami was one of the first asleep most nights, so your calls and texts would go unanswered, but she was always the first to text or call you back if she missed your call.

She had always been a pillar of calm confidence, of self-assured belief in oneself, and you question what had brought you two together during orientation to the university. Perhaps you looked like a duckling who had lost sight of its mother, or perhaps she was just as lost as you. Either way, you had found one another and had been inseparable since.

Dami had been the one to introduce you to her friends, and you had gotten along especially well with SuA. Push comes to shove, one night’s confession turns to love, and the two of you were dating. If you were to be technical, everything that had happened so far was Dami’s fault, in a way.

Guilt buries itself in your consciousness as you shift blame from Dami to yourself. It wasn’t her fault that SuA had acted in such a way. The two of you were fundamentally different people - she liked parties and darkness and temporary pleasure, and you liked quiet afternoons and board game nights with friends and working towards a goal greater than yourself. What had drawn you to each other was tearing your relationship apart - you had nothing in common, but yet again, you had nothing in common.

You’re careful to not blind yourself as you check the time on your phone.

2:34 a.m.

You get out of bed, as quietly as possible, before gently opening the bedroom door. You notice that a light 

has been left on towards the direction of the kitchen, so you head that way.

A creak in the floorboards underneath you causes you to pause, as if you’re some sort of horror protagonist. You can imagine how they’d jump and scream, but you were simply worried about waking your friends… right?

You walk much slower as the kitchen starts to come into view. A figure stands by the kitchen island while wringing off their hands with a towel.

“Dami?”

Their head snaps in your direction, and you sigh before slipping your phone in your pocket.

“I’m happy to see you because I can’t seem t-“

When you go into the kitchen, their face is revealed in the light, and a scream threatens to break from your lips.

A disheveled SuA stands in front of you, and she’s covered head-to-toe in blood splatters. When she smiles at you, blood leaks from her lips and drips onto the tile flooring.

As your mouth opens, SuA makes a quick maneuver towards you and pins you to the nearest wall.

“You know,” She gasps for air as she eyes your neck, “we could’ve done this the easy way while you were sleeping.”

“Fuck y-“

Her hand covers your mouth as she bares her teeth and plunges them into your neck. You scream into her mouth, but her strength is no match for yours. You’re sure a dagger in the neck would be more comfortable as she carelessly drinks from you.

You had imagined your death before, but it was nothing like this. You had to fight back, one way or another.

As your vision starts to soften due to blood loss, you scan your surroundings for something to help you. On a table within your grasp, you notice that a wooden spoon used for punch had been haphazardly left there without being cleaned up.

I hope no one can tell the difference between two red liquids…

You manage to grab the spoon before the strength in your body starts to give out. Color and brightness and darkness and nothingness swirl in your vision as you attempt to plunge the dagger into her heart.

The coldness of the floor meets your check, and survival instincts kick in as you slowly crawl away. Your vision dances with the cold lighting as you pull yourself towards the light. A strangled cry escapes you as something grabs onto your leg with crawls tearing into the flesh of your thigh. 

You’ve lost your weapon, so you can only assume that it has made contact with SuA or did enough to scare her off. Your eyes adjust to the surroundings as your neck burns with the pain of a hundred bee stings. The grip on your leg loosens as you crawl towards what looks to be a phone.

You hope you can get to the phone before you pass out as a wave of nausea causes you to place your head on the floor.

“Did you hear that scream? I think someone next door had too much to drink-“ Gahyeon’s voice is the last thing you remember before your eyes shut permanently.

~

Heat soaks your body as your eyes open to a light being projected right into your eyes.

“I don’t know how much more I can do… the puncture wounds are too deep.” 

A soft hand is placed against your neck as the light is pulled from directly above you to the side. 

“You’re awake...” Dongie sits to your side as your head turns the opposite way to look at the rest of your surroundings.

“SuA… she-“

“Don’t worry about SuA, she’s dead.”

Your head snaps towards Handong as your breathing quickens.

“Dead-“

“Why would you say that? You’re going to kill them before they have a chance to make a proper recovery.” 

Yoohyeon leans on Handong as you start to see more of what surrounds you.

You’ve been moved from the kitchen to the living room, but time has barely passed. The darkness outside starts to creep in as your vision slowly fades to black.

“We’re losing them-“ Handong cries out as someone else walks toward you.

“Dami!”

You push away the darkness as you immediately prop yourself up on your elbows. Handong supports your back with both of her hands as Yoohyeon places a washcloth against your neck.

“Don’t do that-“ Handong begins to scold you before 

“It’s okay,” Dami raises her hand before sitting beside you, “we need them awake.”

“Is this going to work?” Yoohyeon softly asks as your eyes dance around, looking for another person.

“Gahyeon is out looking for Minji, Siyeon, and Tzuyu,” Dami calmly answers as you look back at her, “and I just need you to focus on staying awake. We’ll be okay as long as you’re okay.”

Dami reaches for a book as you focus on your breaths.

Do this one thing for them - it’s easy enough.

You fight against the numbness, the pain inside of you as Dami flips through the book with ease until her hand finds the right page.

“Are binding spells safe?” Yoohyeon asks as Handong scoffs.

“Not in the slightest, but they’re better than resurrection spells.” Handong rubs your back before looking back at Yoohyeon. 

“Are you serious? We’re using untamed magic-“

“-Resurrection spells are untamed magic, binding spells are unreliable-“ Dami corrects as Yoohyeon raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“-you have to be kidding me!” 

Your head falls back as your resistance starts to fail.

“Dami, hurry up-“

“-I’ve got it.” Dami takes your spare hand and intertwines it with hers. “Do you trust me?”

“I always have,” You mutter as your eyelids flutter rapidly, “and I always will.”

She glances away for a moment before closing the book and tossing it aside. 

Dami mutters something in a tongue unknown to you as a soft purple smoke surrounds the both of you.

“Get away-“ Handong backs off from you as you support yourself with your arms.

“They can’t-“ Yoohyeon argues for a moment before Handong drags her away from you.

The purple smoke grows closer and closer around the two of you until it disappears just as quickly as it 

came.

Your resolve cracks and crumbles until nothing inside of you is left to fight.

I should have never introduced the two of you, this wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful- 

Dami’s voice rings through your mind as her eyes pierce your soul.

It was never your fault, you answer her with your thoughts, and I’d do it all over again if it means I got to be close with you.

You’re out before your head hits the pillow, but not before a small tear runs down Dami’s cheek.

[blossom-works]

Warm Castle Walls

If you like this, check out my Hades Series!

---

“You do know Zeus will stop pestering us if you allow him to see his niece.”

“True, but if Hera comes, she and Zeus may disturb the peace within our home. I won’t have them argue and disturb her.”

You smile at your husband’s protectiveness over your daughter, but the more you think about it, you understand. It is no secret that Zeus is not a faithful husband, and that Hera’s wrath should not be taken in vain. One time, Hera’s anger shook the Heavens so much that it felt like a mini earthquake in Helheim. That and she called you to complain and curse Zeus out. 

When you married into the Greek family, you unknowingly signed up to be Hera’s vent buddy. Anytime Zeus let his desires get the best of him she would call you. It does get on your nerves when you are busy, but you understand her. If Hades were to ever cheat on you (Tartarus forbid), you would also need a person to vent to. Hades once asked you if you gave your sister-in-law advice on her marriage and you responded with no. 

Sure, there are some things Hera can do, but it takes two people, or Gods in this case, to balance out a marriage. There is no way that your brother-in-law will change his promiscuous ways. Giving advice to Hera would be fruitless. Whenever Hera calls, you just listen and comfort her. Sometimes you would even set up a date with Hera to lift her mood. 

Now that you think about it even more, it is probably best to postpone any visits from the Greek family. It will save yours and Hades’ sanity and most importantly, keep your daughter from having an early introduction to Godly drama. 

Deciding not to think about it more, you decide to focus on what is in front of you. It has been three months since you birthed your daughter and she is growing as any other baby would. Some would think that babies born from Gods would grow faster, but that is not true. Babies born in Heaven to Gods - grow and develop just like human babies. They stop growing when they hit what is considered their young-adulthood phase. 

Right now your daughter loves to suck on her fist and grabbing onto anything she can. She is also vocal as well. In the mornings she will babble to herself and if she is in a bad mood or really needs something, she will scream for attention. She also loves to be left alone. The only exception is with you and Hades. Your daughter loves to be held as long as she can by her parents. Everyone else like her caretakers, have a limited time before she starts to squirm and cry. 

Hades’ bird is on his finger while his daughter is on his lap. Her cute laughs come after every trick the cockatoo does. Whenever she tries to grab the bird, Hades will hold his hand out further to protect his pet. All parents know how strong a baby’s grip is. Sitting down next to Hades you pick up your daughter and place her in your lap. 

“Now, now. How many times does your father have to tell you to be gentle with his bird? Here, let me show you how to pet him.”

Standing her up and securing her with one arm, you raise your daughter’s hand and ask Hades to bring the cockatoo close. Your daughter bounces in excitement and if it was not for your arm, you are sure she would have fallen onto the ground. After calming her down, you bring her soft, cubby hands to caress the bird. Making sure she does not grab onto the bird or one of his feathers. Feeling the soft feathers against her knuckles, your daughter screams in joy. She tries to use her free hand to grab the bird but luckily your husband is there to stop her. 

“Only one hand, sweetheart.”

Hades exchanges your daughter for the bird. Standing up, he throws her in the air, gracefully catching her with every throw. Your daughter is quite a daredevil. She loves to be high in the air. Sometimes when she if fussy, the only way to calm her down is to throw her in the air. You are quite sure she got this from your husband’s side of the family. Coddling her in his arms, your daughter takes off his eyepatch and starts munching on it. Before you can scold her, Hades laughs. 

“What do you say about giving our child her own eyepatch?”

“I would say you’re trying to erase whatever genes she got from me and make her your carbon copy.” You tease. 

With a free hand he pulls you up and off the couch to smush you into a family hug. The cockatoo flies away to his perch, probably for safety reasons. Hades plants a kiss to your head, laughing at your joke. 

“That’s impossible. She may have my hair and eyes, but she holds your beauty as well.”

You have been with Hades long enough to get used to his compliments and flirts, but they somehow always make you blush and feel warm inside. There is this thing about your husband. He never says anything he does not mean. It is one of the many traits he has that makes him reliable. 

Seeing you, your daughter throws the slobbered eyepatch somewhere across the room. She holds her arms out and makes “grabby” motions, telling you that she wants you to hold her. Now in your arms, she nuzzles into your shoulder. In the safety of her mother’s arms and knowing that her father is there to protect them, she falls asleep. 

Extra:

After finishing today’s work, Hades heads into his shared chambers. When he changed into his robes and is about to go to sleep, he hears his daughter talking to herself. Lifting himself off of the bed he goes to her bassinet and sure enough, there is his princess, blowing raspberries. Picking her up, Hades tries to rock her back to sleep. He sways his body, hoping that it will help. Within a couple of minutes her eyes start to get droopy. Hades places her back in her bassinet and gets a fluffy blanket to cover the already wrapped baby.

With his index finger he caresses her chubby cheek. “Before you or your mother came things in Helheim were boring, and even lonely. But since I married your mother and since you’ve been born, the castle feels warmer. I no longer miss my brothers - your uncles, that much anymore because I have you two.” 

Hades feather-kisses the baby’s forehead. “Thank you for warming up these castle walls.”

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 16

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 15 ~ Unexpected

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 16 ~ A Shower Before A Storm

Leia 

28 weeks 

Have you ever had that dream where you’re running away from something but don’t have shoes on? Its like you can’t escape unless you have the shoes, but you can’t find a pair of them to save your life? 

I feel like I am in that nightmare. And all I want is to escape. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Hey beautiful.” Ignoring my choice of words, my ex-boyfriend is standing in my doorway with flowers and a smile. Flowers. And a smile. Like he hadn’t ripped my heart out and stomped on it seven months ago. “Can I come in?” 

“No.” I swallowed and tried to stop shaking.  I just keep thinking I need to stay calm. Our baby girl needs me to stay calm just like her daddy asked.  

Bret’s smile fell a little. “Lee, don’t be like that. I know we have a lot of things to talk about.  Please beautiful, just a few minutes?”  

I don’t say anything because Miranda comes around the corner. “Leia, what’s... you!” 

“Hey Miranda,” Bret flashes her his best smile.  

“Don’t,” she says, shooting him a glare. “You need to leave.”  

His face hardens. “No, I need to talk to my girl.”  

“I am NOT your girl,” I growl. I see out of the corner of my eye that Miranda is texting someone. “You need to leave. Go back to Japan, Bret.”  

Bret reached and took my hand. “No, I won’t leave until we talk Lee. I’ll be by my car.” He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles before letting go. He gently dropped the flowers on the door step and went back to his car. He stood and leaned against his car.  

“Fuck, no,” I mumbled. I turned to Miranda.  “He said he won’t leave.”  

“I heard. I texted Stella for reinforcement. She said she would bring someone to help us.” Miranda chewed her bottom lip. “I think we should call Andy and Luke.”  

“No,” I said. “They will just panic and try and leave the team.  They are in a playoff push.  If Stella’s reinforcement doesn’t help, we’ll call the police and then worry about the guys.” I rubbed my belly as my baby kicked. “Let’s just wait.”  

Miranda frowned. “It’s your call Leia. Just be calm, ok?” 

“I’m breathing and counting to relax.  I’m gonna get some water.”  

Twenty minutes later and there is another knock on my door.  Miranda opens the door this time. “Leia, please come over here.”  

I waddled as fast as I could to her. “What is it... Jeremy!” 

Low and behold, Jeremy Swayman is standing at the door with my best friend. Stella smiles. “I was working on stretches with Jeremy when Miranda texted.  What better than a six-foot two hockey player to help?” 

“Hi Leia,” he finally said, looking at my face and then my belly.  

“Hi Jeremy.” I hadn’t seen the man since New Years. I had already stopped working at the arena, so it had been about six weeks. My daughter kicks and I rub my stomach as I steady my voice. “Umm, as you can see,” I look around him, “I have an unwelcome guest in my driveway.”  

“I can’t believe this douche had the nerve to come here,” Stella said. “Can I kick him in the balls?” 

“Relax Warrior Princess,” Jeremy said, his familiar smirk on his lips.  “I’ll handle it.” He turned and walked towards Bret.   

“Stel, what the hell? Was he the best option?” Miranda, Stella and I watch as Jeremy approaches Bret and stops about five feet from him. We can’t hear anything, but we can see Bret’s face turning redder and redder. He stands up straighter, but Jeremy doesn’t move. He points to the car and then away. Bret looks like he’s about to have the vein in his neck burst before he says something else and then points to me.  

I take an involuntary step back and Jeremy sees the fear flash in my eyes.  He grabs Bret’s shirt and hauls him closer to him. Bret blanches before Jeremy lets go with force and he stumbles into the car. “Don’t look at her or come back here or contact her again,” I hear Jeremy growl out.  

Bret scrambles for the car and drives off. Jeremy doesn’t move until he sees the car round the corner and turns to face us. He gives us his signature smile. “He shouldn’t bother you anymore Leia.”  

“Thank you, Jeremy. I’m glad that nothing happened so it wouldn’t aggravate your injury.” A look flickers on his face. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I just...” He ran a hand over his hair. “I know how much of a jerk I’ve been, and you don’t have to accept this right now but I’m sorry Leia. For everything.”  

“Oh.” Was not expecting this on my bingo card this year.  

“Anyways, if he comes back while the boys are gone, just call me.” He gave me his famous smile. “I’m gonna go. You look beautiful, by the way.” He turned and walked before I could get a word out.  He climbed into his car and started it, waiting.  

“He gave me a ride,” Stella says. “I’ll come back in a little bit.” She gave us both a hug and walked to the car. I watched the car go before I turned to Miranda.  

“We saw that she was wearing his sweater, right?” 

“They rushed over here Leia.”  

“I’m not saying anything, just an observation.” I headed in. “When do we tell the boys?” 

“Today.” Miranda frowned. “I’ll tell Luke and he can tell Andy.”  

“Okay.” I resigned to my fate. Andy is going to go nuclear.  

Ring! Ring! 

Miranda waited to call the boys until after the game.  Now at 1130 the next day, Andy is calling, and I don’t want to talk to him.  I know he is mad and frustrated because he wasn’t here when it happened and he’s going to blame himself.  But a teeny part of me thinks he is also mad at me, probably because I didn’t call myself.  I was too chicken to call. The ringing stops and I get a text message.  

Andy: Leia answer the phone.  

Leia: No. 

Ring! Ring! 

Andy: My queen, answer the phone 

Leia: No 

Ring! Ring! 

Andy: Leighton, answer me right now 

Leia: no, you’re gonna yell at me 

Andy: Baby I am not mad. I just need to hear that you are ok.  

Ring! Ring!  I sigh and pick up the phone. “Hello?” 

“Baby, are you ok? Is the baby ok?” 

I chewed my lips. “Yes, we’re ok.”  

I heard him sigh. “Ok, good. Did he touch you?” 

“No Andy,” my voice wobbled. “He didn’t touch me.” A lie to protect his sanity. “When I told him to leave, he said he wouldn’t and I got scared but Miranda called Stella and she was working with Jeremy, and she brought him, and Jeremy got rid of him.”  

“Jeremy? Swayman?” 

“Yeah, I don’t what he told Bret, but he left like there was a fire.”  

Andy was quiet. “That was nice of him,” he finally says. “Has Bret tried to contact you again?” 

“No but I have his number blocked, so I really don’t know.” Silent came through the line and I began to worry. “Are you mad?” 

“At you, of course not, my queen. I’m angry that he showed when I’m on a road trip. Maybe I should come home.” 

“Andy, no. This is not an emergency. I don’t think he will come back, and Jeremy said if he needs to come back, he will and make sure we’re ok. Please, everything is ok, I promise.”  

“If he shows up again while we’re gone, I’m coming home,” he replied. I start to object but he cuts me off. “It's not up for discussion, Leighton. I’m going to protect my family.” His temper was making his voice louder than normal.  

“Andy,” I whimper, the tears threatening to fall.  

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I love you so much. I just hate that I'm not there.” 

“I know but you have to keep your head in the game ok? I love you.” In the background, I can hear people calling for Andy. He has to get to the bus that takes them to the arena. “Score me a goal, okay?” 

“I’ll do what I can, beautiful. Love you.”  

“Love you.” 

Andy 

I can’t believe that cocksucker had the balls to show up at my house to speak to my girl.  Why the fuck was he back from Japan? He hadn’t cared about Leia’s pregnancy before. Between that dipshit and her mother, I know Leia is starting to be stressed, which is not good. But I needed to deal with one thing at a time.  I pull up my contacts to make a call.  

“Hey Cap.”  

His voice is nervous.  Jeremy Swayman never got nervous, so I know that this is my fault.  “Hey Sway. I just got off the phone with Leia.”  

“Oh. She ok?” 

His tone sounded sincere, like the old Jeremy who cared for his team. It threw me for a sec. “Yeah, she and the baby are fine. Listen, I just wanted to say thank you for helping her with Bret and chasing him off.”  

“It’s not a problem.”  

“No, you didn’t have to do that. Especially with the way I have treated you lately.”  

I heard him sigh. “Look, Andy, I was a jerk and I owe Leia.”  

“Well, anyway, thanks for helping her. I hope we can talk when we get back.”  

“Sure Cap. Have a good game. FYI, Vegas’s goalie favors his left.”  

I chuckled. “Thanks Sway. See you in a few days.” I hung up and looked at Luke and Brad. “I needed to tell him thank you for protecting my girls.”  

“Are we done freezing him out, Cap?” Brad asked.  

“Yeah, we’re done. We need our team back as a family and Jeremy is a big part of that. I’ll talk to the rest of the team after the game.”  

Two Weeks Later – 30 Weeks 

“Miranda, this is amazing!” Leia is gushing at the decorations that Miranda had put up for the baby shower. It was shades of pink and gold in the balloons and streamers. A banner was up with Leia’s name and Baby Barber. I fucking love seeing that. My little girl is two months away from coming home and I couldn’t wait.  

Luke came down dressed and rolled his eyes at the banner.  “Do you know how long it took me to get that thing up? It wasn’t straight for 45 minutes.” He kissed his sister cheek.  You know I would only do this for you, right? Oof,” Miranda elbowed him in the side. “I mean, you and my love.” He smiled at Miranda, who rolled her eyes. 

I covered up a laugh as Leia giggled. “I know Lukey, thank you, it's beautiful.” Leia clapped a little. She turned to me. “Just a couple of beers right?” 

“Yes ma’am.” I kissed her softly. “I’m driving and the rest of the guys will meet me at the Red Line. I’ll be back for some cake. Love you.”  

“Love you,” she replied as Miranda took her hand and guided her into the house. 

“It looks like Barbie’s dream house blew up in here,” I tell Luke.  

“You tell Miranda no,” he replied as he climbed into my car. “Almost lost an eye.”  

I laughed as I pulled away, ready to celebrate my little one with the boys.  

Leia 

The party was in full swing with the WAGs of the team here, other friends that we had and some cousins from both of our families.  Miranda had done just a fantastic job, planning and decorating. It was pink and sparkly, exactly how I wanted it for my baby girl.  

“Have you thought of names?” Moa Ullmark had asked.  

“Names are daunting. So much pressure to get it right,” I said with a laugh. “I've been thinking of some gender-neutral names. Like Avery, James. Bailey, Cameron, Frankie. We thought of them when we didn’t know what the baby was.  I love the name Nora.  But with a girl, I guess we can get more names.” I looked at Miranda and smirked. “At least I can veto the name Luke Jr.”  

Everyone laughed. “I can’t believe your brother suggested that. Like really, this is your sister’s kid.”  

“I personally love Avery,” Katrina Marchand said.  

“And I love Nora,” Kiley McAvoy said. “Maybe you could combine them.”  

“Will it be Andrews or Barber?” Moa asked. Before I could answer I heard the doorbell ring.  “Well, we haven’t...” 

“Leia, there is someone here to see you,” someone said.  

I looked at Stella and Miranda and they both shrugged. I hauled myself to my feet and waddled to the door. As I walked over, I ran the list of people I knew and deducted that everyone that should be here, was and everyone that should have been with Andy, is. As I made it to the foyer, the image in the doorway made my blood freeze.  

“Pink was always your color, beautiful.”  

Bret stood in the doorway, a large teddy bear in and pink dress and flowers.  

I was frozen on the spot. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel the panic starting to filter throughout my body. I guess it had been too long because Stella came looking and her face twisted in anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just want to talk to Leia. I promise, I’m not here to hurt her,” he said.  His face looked honest.  

I blinked.  “Umm, let’s go into the office.”  I pointed to Luke’s office.  

“Lee,” Stella grasped my elbow. “What...” 

“Call Andy,” I breathed. “Get him here.” I moved to the office. “I’m just gonna listen,” I said out loud, opened the door and waited as Bret entered the office. I closed the door and took a couple of breaths before I turned around. “What do you want, Bret?” 

“I want you and our baby. I want you to come home.”  

NEXT

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