#the rainbow lasted for a few minutes though (:

[luveline]

how r our kbd babies doing today?

kisses before dinner —the harrington's recuperate at the end of a long week. 2k, mom!reader

“It's not so bad,” you murmur. “Just a little sting.” 

Avery looks up at you with eyes widened. She couldn't look more like Steve. “How little?” 

Bethie snores on your chest. You're laying in bed, Avery sitting on the floor in your room with a teddy in her lap. You'd pull her up into your bed if there were any room, but with Beth's leg hanging off of your hip and Steve curled toward you like a question mark, there isn't space to spare. 

“They call it a sharp scratch.” 

Avery came in with big questions this morning. Mom, what does a needle feel like? 

“Does it leave a hole?” she asks. 

“No, just a tiny dot,” you say, rubbing Beth's back. She's very warm, worryingly so. “Can you pass me Bethie's thermometer?” 

“Will you ask me nicely?” she asks. 

“Please could you pass Bethie's thermometer, my love?” you say. She smiles, indulged by your sweetend tone, and crawls forward to rifle through the mass of things you've accrued during Beth's flu and subsequent, semi-permanent stay in your bed after her last few days in hospital. Vitamins and mapap, melted cool packs and Dove's rainbow bear. She doesn't really know what's happening, but she knows her sister needs support right now, and so she's parted with her favourite bear. 

Nobody ever mentioned how many plush animals you acquire when you have children. They're everywhere. At least two in each room. 

“Can I put it on her head?” 

“Sure,” you say, brushing Bethie's hair back to give Avery an uninterrupted landing pad. “Be nice, baby, please.” 

“I'll be so nice,” Avery promises. She reaches up, tall on her knees, and smooths the thermometer patch over Beth's forehead. 

“Thank you. Kiss?” 

Avery gives you a kiss. Together, you watch the thermometer respond to Bethie's skin, and when the gauge hits the red that demonstrates much too hot, you bite back a spike of panic. 

“Is she okay?” 

“Yeah, she's okay.” You put your arm firmly behind Bethie's back and sit up with a wince. Steve stirs beside you. “Steve? She's getting hot again.” 

He grunts in his dozing. You nudge him. You'll say sorry afterwards; this is not a nice way to wake up. 

“Steve,” you say. Though it certainly isn't nice, you know he'd prefer to be woken up. You shake him by the shoulders.

He coughs as he wakes, “What? What?” he asks. 

“She's at 101 again.” 

Steve takes your wrist into his hand. He snaps into dad mode quickly. “That's fine, honey. 101 is fine. She's not a baby anymore, just take her blanket off and I’ll go get another cool pack.”

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is gravel. “I promise she's just fine. We don't have to take her back to Urgent Care unless she's at 102 for two days in a row.” 

And you already knew that, but you needed him to tell you. You lean down and rub your nose into Bethie's crown. “Okay,” you say shyly. Shouldn't have woken him. Shouldn't have panicked. 

“You okay, mom?” 

Steve peeks over your body to see Avery sitting on the floor. “Avery! My favourite toast maker, do you want breakfast? Let's make toast and get Beth some ice.” 

Steve leans in to kiss you, then Beth. “Stay here.” 

“No, it's okay, let's go downstairs.” You don't meet his eyes as you say it. You just don't want to be away from him lately. 

“...Okay, no worries.” He yawns and puts out his arms for a transfer of the sleeping child. “Did you brush your teeth, Avey-bear?” 

“No,” she says happily. 

He heaves Beth into his arms, her head falling into the curve of his neck. It would've been nicer if he had a minute to come to, but he hasn't had time to himself in days, and he doesn't complain. Steve just holds Bethie close and gets to starting the day. “After breakfast, then. Come on, sweetheart.” 

It takes you a few seconds to realise he's talking to you. Your face feels hot. “Coming.” 

You make sure Wren's baby monitor is on and leave her sleeping in her crib though she's destined to wake up any time now, putting the twin in your pocket. Steve ushers Avery down the stairs first, following her with Beth cemented to his front as you check on Dove. She's awake but laying down still, blanket tucked to her chin and one of her small feet sticking out of the side. 

“Hello,” you say, feeling the aches and pains of the last week echoing through your back as you lean against her door. “Good morning, beautiful.” 

“Good morning,” she says back. Then, with a squint. “Yo'r leaving?” 

You giggle at her funny pronunciation. “Not today. You want to come have breakfast?” 

“Carry me,” she says, kicking off the blankets. 

“Where's your sock?” You cross the room to pick her up. You don't want to carry her, it seems that the majority of your life is spent carrying these kids with legs of their own, but then you pick her up and feel her weight against your chest and don't mind so much. “Say? Where's your sock?” you ask, tilting your head to her. 

“I had hot toes when I was– when I was sleeping.”

“Yeah? How are they now?” 

“They're fine.” 

You hook your index finger into her sock and pull it off. 

“Can I have,” —she drags her nose against your shoulder— “waffles with syrup?” 

“I think daddy's making toast.” 

“...with syrup?” 

“Whatever you want,” you say, dropping her sock on the floor for later laundry and carrying her down to the bottom of the stairs. She lounges in your arms. 

From the stairs, you turn right into the hallway, which branches into both the living room and a small hallway to the kitchen. You go into the living room (which also, conveniently, connects to the kitchen), and find Bethie deposited on the big bean bag where she likes to nap, Steve kneeling by her side, a cool patch in hand as Avery fiddles with the TV. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he's asking her, putting the patch on her forehead.

She smiles at him with a gaze clear enough to take some of the worry off your shoulders. “Yeah, daddy, just cold.” 

“I know. You try and keep this on for me a little while so we can keep your temperature down, and I'm gonna go make you some breakfast. What sounds nice? You want jam and toast like Ave?” 

“Can I have a… a peanut butter sandwich?” 

He smiles at her like she's given him the secrets of the universe. “Yes. Absolutely you can.” 

“Breakfast on the couch?”

Perfect. You put Dove on the couch next to Avery and turn the TV down to a quieter volume than usual. Bethie shivers at the cool pack but doesn't complain again, her attention drawn to the morning cartoons. 

Steve's multi-tasking already as you prop open the kitchen door. Toast down in the toaster, elbow deep in a sink full of dishes. “Don't do those, I'll do them,” you say, “just make Beth her sandwich.” 

“I got it. You make the sandwich, babe.” 

“You make it.” 

Steve turns around. He dries his hands. “Who the fuck are you talking to?” he asks, eyes wide and lips parted in a dramatised shock. “Me? Are you taking that tone with me?” 

“Shut up,” you say. 

He grabs you by the waist to pull you in. “You used to be such a nice girl, you'd make me cookies and ask me over for dinner, and when I'd take you out you'd try to hold both of my hands–” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask, startled and flush with remembering. You're still young, but you'd been so young. You love him more now than you ever did back then, but it's hard to forget the young love feeling of needing both his hands in yours, in wanting people to know you were together, but mostly of hoping he'd not want to let go of them. 

“It means you used to be nice and now you suck,” he says, using the height he has over you to glare down at you. It doesn't last, five seconds at most. “Sorry, I didn't mean that.” 

You laugh and put your hands around his waist. None of you look put together. His shirt is one of yours, your pyjama pants are about eight years old and don't fit right. Dove is in one of Bethie's nightgowns and Avery's trousers are a yard too short. Beth fares better in new pyjamas from her favourite uncle Eddie (please get well soon, baby Harrington), but they're ready for a wash. They all need baths. 

“Today is gonna be a long day,” you say, blowing a breath against his throat just to see what he'll do. 

Steve puts his arms over your shoulders. “I don't want a short one if it's with you.” He smiles, knowing it's a good line. “Can we still kiss?” 

You used to have a ‘I haven't brushed my teeth’ rule, but more and more life together erases the embarrassment. “One. Close-lipped.” 

“Yes sir,” he says, kissing you chastely. He makes it a good one, very loving, very can't-believe-I-get-to-be-loved-by-you. 

You figure you might as well tell him so, in a way. “Steve?” 

He steps back. You have the same idea at the same time, arms bashing into one another as you try to smooth his hair and he attempts to stroke your forehead. 

“Yeah?” 

“I'm sorry if I've been a lot. I know I haven't been as, you know, strong as you have. With Beth being sick.”

“You don't have to be,” he says. He talks gently, but there's more emotion in his eyes, a softness. “I can take care of all of you, I can. I wouldn't keep having kids if I didn't know I could take care of them and you.” 

“But we're a team.” 

“Yeah, we are, and I couldn't do any of this without you, but you don't have to worry about being strong. I can be enough for both of us while you're not feeling so sure.” He grabs your hand where it brushes his hair down. “Don't mess with my volume.” 

“Steve, you couldn't have less volume right now.” 

“I love you, and it's not just… comfortable. It's not just because you're the mom of my kids, or because it's been years. That stuff's obviously true, but I still love the girl who wants to hold both of my hands at the same time. I'd do this for you even if they weren't my girls, but they are, and you are, and it's not something you need to be sorry for.” He goes a little red at being so open. He doesn't know how endearing it is. 

The toaster pops and makes you both jump. “Shit,” he says, turning around and sadly out of your arms.

“Are you burning the toast?” Avery shouts. 

“Daddy's making a campfire in the kitchen,” you say cheerily. 

Steve laughs infectiously, pulling the toast out with a knife. “I guess we get breakfast first today.”  

You creep up behind him. “I love you so much,” you say, punctuating with a kiss to his warm cheek. 

He abandons the toast as quickly as he'd tended to it to grab you for a squeeze. You groan as everything clicks and he leans into you, pressing love you's with every breath into the side of your head. “Things have been the worst but they're the best ‘cos we're together!” he insists. “You freak me out sometimes being sorry for stuff, why are you sorry? You could totally clock out and I wouldn't get mad, I worry about you. I've always worried about you and I'm gonna worry ‘till I die, I want to.” 

“Don't wind yourself.” 

“You're gonna make me crazy,” he says, kissing your jaw. “You really are.” 

He hugs you for ages. Long enough that you end up eating chewy toast, but the girls get fresh toast and peanut butter sandwiches alike, so everything works out in the end.

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[roseglazedlens]

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱ #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fluff #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #꒰✏️ rose requests ♡.*꒱ #chris redfield #rebecca chambers #claire redfield #jill valentine

[xxblairexxss]

We’ll be fine

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Word count : 4.7k

Requested!

Relationships aren’t all sunshines and rainbows. Charles and you were trying so hard to maintain this long distance relationships but everything seemed to be going the wrong way. Was it the miscommunication, the lack of reassurance or was it because of your job?

The FaceTime’s outgoing ringtone blasted through your Macbook’s speaker, giving you a jolt, though you had bern waiting for it for the past 30 minutes.

"God, I miss you so much, baby."

The sight of your boyfriend in red, all sweaty, made you all giddy like a high school teenager. "Hi, boyfriend! Congratulations on the P3!" He went on to talk about the race and everything you had missed for not being able to join him this weekend while you rested your chin on your palm whilst listening to him.

"No way! You saw the same cut board again? Was it from the same person?" You asked; your work-related stuff was long forgotten.

"I'm not sure about that, but it freaked me out a little bit seeing my face that big over and over."

You cackled. He had propped his phone against his stuff, so you got a good look at him while he sorted out things before the press conference. It made you feel as if you were there with him.

This was the first time in a while that you didn’t get into an argument during a 10-minute video call. A few weeks ago, as frequent as it was, Charles and you would always get into an argument, sometimes one that lasted for days. It was all because of your new job and the upcoming summer break.

When you first got the offer, you could see Charles wasn’t too elated about it. It didn’t mean he was unhappy to see you step up into another chapter of your life. He was so ecstatic that he even prepared a small celebration and gifts to celebrate it. For the whole week after you told him about your promotion, that was all he ever talked about.

"I’m so proud of you."

"My hardworking girl"

"You deserved it so much".

Those were the words he kept on showering you with, like a mantra.

But those words eventually turned into fatalistic, forcing you to accept the culpability of the constant disagreement in the relationship.

"Not this again, Y/N."

"I just don’t understand why it’s so hard for you."

"I’m doing this for us too!"

"Am I the only one who gives a fuck about this relationship?"

Being able to talk to him and seeing him all smile with eyes full of accolades and longing for the touch from you erased all of the tainted spots.

That was until he called you again that night. When you told him about your upcoming project was when he blew up all over again. You saw it coming. Even before you picked up the call, before you had arranged those words in your head.

"What do you mean you can’t join me next week? Y/N, it’s my summer break. Don’t you want to spend some time together?"

You covered your face with your hands, internally screaming. He always acted as if you had a choice to reject every offer that the company had arranged for you. As if you didn’t care about this relationship as much as he did. "They asked me to take over the project. I can’t say no."

"I haven’t seen you in weeks." He muttered.

"I wanted to see you too, Charles, but..."

"Don’t say that." He heckled. You saw him roll his eyes, moving away from the camera. "Don’t say shit like that just to make me feel better. I know you don’t actually mean any of it."

"Charles, I really wanted to see you but I can’t say no!" You yelled out, desperately trying to make him see things from your point of view.

"Bullshit." He sniggered.

"What?"

"What if I tell you, Oh, I missed you so much, I can’t wait to see you, then chose to spend the weekend with my friends after saying all that? It sounds bullshit to you, isn’t it?" He shook his head, as if what you said vexed him even more. 

“I wasn’t spending the weekend with my friends. I’m working! It’s a different case.” You argued back, feeling unfair from his reactions.

"I’m going to sleep. Good night."

"Already? But I thought we could talk some more. I wanted to hear your story, I wanted to tell you about happen to me on my way to work this morning.." Your pleas were ignored as he stayed silent, looking as if he were so ready to click the end call button. "It’s okay then. Good night. I love you.”

The call ended. Well, he ended the call without saying it back.

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The summer break came around. Just like any other year, Charles would spend a week with his friends and the other week with his family. You would always join him, but not this year.

You have seen videos and pictures of his friends laughing, teasing each other, and filming funny videos here and there while you were stuck in your office.

Charles would still text you; he would wish you good morning and good night; he would ask you if you had eaten and if you needed him to arrange a food delivery for you; but he never spoke about the summer break anymore. In one way, it just felt like he had erased the words from his mind. Though you still saw pictures and videos of him on his yacht, riding his jet ski, you never asked him about it—basically anything that involved the break—because you just didn’t want to get into another fit of disagreement and his failure to see your situation.

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"What are you having for dinner, baby? I can’t see." He was in his bed, barely keeping himself awake after the full-blown activities in the sea today while you were just getting ready to eat your dinner.

"I’m having sushi!" His eyes widen at the huge selection when you tilted the plate of sushi.

"That’s a lot! You got carried away with the menu again, didn’t you?"

"Yeah.." Your lips were pressed in a thin line, shoulder-sloping like a child who got into trouble.

"Can you actually finish that, love?"

"Obviously no! I’ll figure out a way to not waste any of this." Picking a salmon out of 20 more selections on the plate, you dipped the end into the small plate of soy sauce and devoured one, smiling at the fresh, delectable taste.

"You know I can’t finish them for you. I’m like thousands of miles away." Charles was propping his chin on his hand, forcing himself to stay awake.

"I know. I miss you a lot." You covered your mouth, holding your laugh, when his chin slipped off his palm and he nearly slammed his head against the pillow. "You know you can go to sleep, right? I am fine eating dinner on my own."

"No, I want to stay awake and watch my girlfriend eat her sushi."

You stuck out your tongue and scrunched your nose, making him chuckle. "Which one should I try next?" You moved the phone a little so he could get a full view of the plate again.

"Try the scallop one, baby. It looks good."

You picked the one he chose with your chopstick and ate it up, letting out a squeal of excitement when the taste activated your taste buds. "It’s so good! You would have liked this one."

Charles eventually fell asleep before you could finish your so called eating show. He fell asleep hugging the pillow, which acted as your replacement because he always had trouble sleeping without you. He even asked you to leave a travel-size perfume of yours the next time you came home, just so it felt much more pragmatic in his mind.

Unknowingly to him, you had requested leave from absence home earlier this week, and it was just approved by your supervisor today. It was only for a week, but at least you could see your boyfriend and spend time with him this summer.

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Charles came home, and he was confounded by how tidy his apartment looked. The pile of clothes he had set aside in the laundry room to be washed was gone, and the washing machine was on as it was counting down to 15 minutes, rotating and spinning his clothes. He had left the house quite in a hurry this morning, so he expected it to be out of place, just like how he left it.

"Surprise!"

He sprang back, his head hitting the wall when you jumped out from behind the door as he was about to walk in, causing him to bend down, his hand holding the crown of his head.

"Oh my God! I’m so sorry!" You chortled, covering your mouth from the loud thud sound as you hugged him.

"Ow, I think I got a concussion, baby." He buried his face against your neck as you cradled him like a child. "Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?"

"I wanted to give you a surprise! And a concussion." You stroked his hair, barely able to breathe from the tight grip around your waist.

"God, I missed you so, so much." He planted a trail of kisses along your shoulder blade up to your jawline and ended it on your lips, only pulling away when both of you were out of breath. "I missed you, baby."

"I missed you more. I’m all yours, love. No more hugging pillows!" You snaked your arms around his neck, giggling when you felt his lips on your nose.

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"Y/N, baby, no. I just changed!"

You saw a perfect opportunity when he was standing at the edge of the yacht, seemingly to be in very deep thoughts, so you dashed into him, making him lose his balance as he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you with him back into the water.

"Why do you have to do that?!" You cried out, splashing the water on him with a frown.

"Oh, are you mad at me? Really, baby?" He laughed and lead you back to the yacht as it started getting a bit chilly. You still refused to talk to him, even when he wrapped you in a new towel and engulfed you in a hug. He, however, found the whole situation funny. "Okay, baby, I’m sorry for pulling you into the water. I should have been the only one cold in the sea. " Charles finally surrendered when you seemed to be so in persistent with your sulking attempt.

Rolling your eyes, you fell into a fit of laughter as you threw yourself on him, making him lay down with you on the lounge seats. "I’m just kidding!" You cupped his cheeks and brushed your lips on his. "You are so cute!"

"You make me the happiest man in the world." He caressed your cheeks while you braced yourself on his body. Everything was just so perfect you never wanted this moment to end. Just getting lost in those green eyes gave you a vivid view of the beautiful landscapes. The way you felt his soft, loving touch on your face, trailing the structure of your face tucked on your heart, just when you thought you couldn’t fell in love with this man even more.

"I love you so much, baby." He mumbled, drumming his fingers on your chin, which made you chuckle.

"I love you even more, love."

"Let’s stay like this for a little while. I missed having you in my arms." He leaned his head back on the seats, wishing for the time to stop because everything—literally everything—was just so perfect for him.

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"Baby?"

"Yeah?" Charles came to the kitchen, leaning against the counter while you still had your eyes on your tea, stirring it after you put a spoonful of sugar.

"Mom wished you could join the family’s vacation next week. Is there any way you can extend your leave?"

"I’m so sorry, love, but I need to be at the office by next week." Since you were working on a new project at the moment, it was difficult for you to be absent even more when you already got a week off though you knew right away you would have to pull an all-nighter once you touchdown tomorrow just to go through all those unreplied emails.

"Y/N, please. For me," He held your hand, which was circled around the mug. “For us.”

"Charles, this isn’t about us. You know—"

"Here we go again. I’m the only one who has to tolerate, give in, and follow your schedule. Y/N, this relationship isn’t about you all alone." His voice was louder now, half shouting as he left the kitchen.

"Yes, I know, Charles. I know! You are not the only one who has to ride the wave right now. You are not the only one giving in. I had been with you in every race that I could though I had to constantly fly back and forth. I have told you I was required to be at the office even more now that we’re working on a new project. Once it is all done and sorted out, my schedule will be more manageable. A couple of months is all I ask! I’m so tired of explaining this over and over, but you still keep on thinking I am being selfish in this matter. I am mentally and emotionally drained every single day! I spent hours in the office, coming home, expecting my boyfriend to be my comfort, but you kept on shouting and cursing at me." Your cup of tea was long forgotten as you trudged along his steps to the living room. "I took a leave for one week, hoping it would make you happy, but it is still not enough for you. I don’t know what you want me to do!"

"No one forced you to take the job, Y/N. You have no right to complain about that. I told you numerous times that I can always support you financially." You grabbed his wrists, tugging on them harshly to make him face you.

"That’s not how it works, Charles! I don’t want you to support me with your money. Just because I want and love this job doesn’t mean I can’t get tired of it. I’m a human with a capability to an extent. I just want you to be there for me when I need you." Charles looked away, hands clenched into a fist, when you started choking back tears.

"I feel like you are more scared to lose your precious job than you are losing me, Y/N. It’s more important than me, isn’t it? Your job." He snickered, his head shaking at how absurd this whole argument was.

"I got fired for leaving abruptly during my meeting because you got into a crash. I stayed with you for days, taking care of you, ignoring every call and text from my boss because you were all I could think about, and I could go insane if I wasn’t by your side, waiting for you to wake up. I had to build my career back up. Yes, this is my dream job, but I would drop everything again for you, and you know that too." You harshly wiped another trail of tears on your cheeks. You just wanted to rip your hair out because he kept on turning this back to you, as if you never sacrificed anything for him.

"Are you trying to blame me because you got fired? Is that what you meant? Y/N, that was on you!" Charles hollered, making you flinch as he pointed his finger at your face.

"That’s not it! If something happened to me and you left your race for me, would you blame me for that? No, you wouldn’t! Because there’s no one to blame! That’s what I—" Your words came to a pause when you saw him simpered. "Are you—Charles, what’s with that smile?" Your grip on his arm tightens to get his attention. "Are you saying you wouldn’t leave your career for me? Charles!" He tried to walk away, and you grabbed his shirt, yanking it. "Don’t just walk away! Answer me!" You pulled on his shirt again. "Charles!"

"Don’t ask me that! You and I are not the same, Y/N. Our career, our way of thinking, it’s just not the same."

It hurt. It hurt because you thought you meant a lot to him. You didn’t even want him to choose either one, but the fact that he acted as if your career and his weren’t on the same level shredded your heart to pieces. It was as if your career were nothing compared to his. Sure, it wasn’t one where people paid thousands to see; it wasn’t a career where you got paid hundreds of thousands, even millions, per year, but he, out of all people, knew how hard you worked for it, so you never expected him to disparage your career in front of your face.

"I don’t think I’m the one being selfish right now." He saw you walk past him into the bedroom with your head dropped. It was your last night before you had to fly back tomorrow, and he had ruined everything again. You had actually planned to bake cookies together just so the two of you could spend more time together for the last night, but the whole apartment is cold now, and there was no other sound except your irregular sob.

He stayed up, placing all those ingredients for cookies that you had arranged on the kitchen counter back to where it was. You were so excited to try the new cookie cutter, and he felt so bad for blowing up again.

"Y/N?"

You tugged on the cover, half hiding your face when you heard him walk in. It might not be as convincing as it was, but you held your sob, trying to control your shoulders from shaking too much, so it seemed as if you were already asleep since you didn’t want to talk to him. Not anymore. You were so tired. You would have packed and left right away if only you could, but you knew he would block your moves, holding you back and you didn’t want that to happen because you would have given in again. What you thought was a bad attempt was still able to convince him that you were asleep.

"Good night." He slanted over and pecked at your cheek before getting under the cover and facing the other way. He knew he didn’t deserve to hug nor touch you after making you cry yourself to sleep.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles woke up, frowning, when a shaft of sunlight sipping through the curtain hit his face. "Baby, the sun is blinding me again." He mumbled and shifted to your side of the bed to hide his face against your neck, but all he could feel was a chilly, cold space. "Baby?" He called out a little louder and still didn’t get any response. "Y/N—" He was stunned when he realised your phone, hair tie, and your stuffs on the dressing table were gone. "Fuck!" The fatigue and drowsiness were gone in a blink as he threw the duvet off, feeling himself getting warm even though the AC was frigid.

"Y/N," He went through every room, and all of your clothes were gone. It was as if you were never here for the whole week. “No, no, no, no.”

Your phone was off when he tried to call, and none of his text messages went through. He even went to the airport because he knew your flight was 4 hours away, and he spent hours walking around to look for you, but to no avail. He would have kept you in his arms if he knew last night would be the last time he saw you.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Y/N! How are you? Oh my God!" Carla’s eyes widened. Just like any other day, Carla, Arthur’s girlfriend, would ring you just to update you on your life. You met her years ago when she and Arthur started dating, and ever since then, it had been like having a new baby sister. She was also the only one who knew your new phone number. And like always, you guys would talk for hours about everything, and though she never came here to New York, she was basically familiar with your apartment. This time around, you just didn’t happen to be in the apartment when you picked up the call. You were in the hospital, head wrapped up in a bandage, and your hand was as stiff as a rock from the hand cast. "What happened to you?" She yelled out.

"I got into an accident last night. No, two days ago. It wasn’t that bad, though." She rolled her eyes, finding it hard to believe when you winced from the pain as you tried to play it all cool.

"How did you get into an accident? That looks really bad, Y/N! You should tell Charles!"

Charles. It’s been nearly a month since the last time you left his apartment without confronting him. You remember staring at him that night while he slept, like a creep, thinking if you were making the right choice and decided there was no point staying in a relationship where you and him never see things at the same level. You changed your phone number because you knew he would spam your calls, and you knew the moment you heard his voice, pleading and begging you to forgive him, you would crawl your way back to him.

"No, don’t tell him. You promised me you wouldn’t tell anything to him or Arthur. I don’t know if you can call it an accident, but I lost my balance and fell down the stairs at the office. It wasn’t that bad, but I do need a few stitches on my forehead."

"That’s so bad! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Just so you know, if he finds out that I knew about this and didn’t tell him, you need to back me up. How long do you have to be at the hospital? Are you okay all alone?"

"Yeah! I’m completely fine on my own. I will be discharged tomorrow!" The hand cast was actually quite heavy, and it was hard for you to do things on your own, but you’ll manage.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Why are you laughing?"

Clara put her phone away from her face, still giggling at the picture that you sent to her. It was a picture of you trying to make a thumbs up with your broken hand because she wanted proof that you had safely arrived at your apartment.

"Oh, it was Y/N!" She chuckled, turning her phone back to show her boyfriend the picture. "Look!"

Arthur blinked in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that at all. "What happened to her?"

"Oh, um—"

"What’s wrong?" Charles intervened, his eyes now on the couple.

Before Clara could make up a lie, her boyfriend was quick on his act. "Y/N. She was covered in bandages. Is that a bandage? Yeah, it is. Oh, it’s a hand cast." Arthur confirmed it himself after double-checking the picture on his girlfriend’s phone.

"What?" Charles furrowed his brows and took Clara’s phone from her hand. "What happened to her? Why didn’t you tell me about this?"

"She told me not to tell you. But she’s fine! Well, she said she’s fine." Clara stated, seeing how the older guy started heading out with only a few of his stuffs.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, chasing after his brother.

"I’m going to see her."

"What? You mean right now?" The younger one yelled out. "Has my brother gone mad?"

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"One second!"

You ran from your room, anticipating another delivery from your window shopping gone wrong, and you ended up with 10 parcels that was supposed to arrive by today.

"Hi! You can just put the box here. I— oh,"

Charles was stunned. You were in a short with an oversized jumper, your hair tied up in a messy bun with your bangs pinned back where he could see the stitches right above your brows.

"Can I—can I come in?" His questioned, dragging you back into reality.

"My house is a mess." That was a bad one. You couldn’t come up with a better excuse, and he was still waiting, evidently disregarding whatever you just said. "Fine, come in. Do you want a drink? Coffee?"

"It’s okay. I’m all good."

"Coffee then." You felt his gaze on the back of your head as you grabbed a mug. The airtight instant coffee jar had to be the most difficult thing to open in one hand, even though you had the front part of your elbow circled around the jar. "Can I just get you water?" His laughter made your cheeks red.

"I’m okay, precious. There’s no need for that." He then marched to stand in front of you, hand cupped on your cheeks as he tilted your head to see the stitches. "What happened?"

"I fell. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much." He was gazing at you, and you could feel the wall you built starting to quiver, so you took a step back.

Charles missed you. He missed you a lot. He knew you would have back away, but it never occurred to him that it would hurt this much to see the woman he loved pull in one’s horns with him. "I—,"

"You can’t do this to me." You cut him off, mumbling with your eyes looking down on your hands. "You can’t come here and touch me, forcing me to fall back and jump on you after the way you treated me."

"I came here to apologise." His voice became a whisper, barely audible to you.

"You have apologised for the million times, but I still got blamed for my career, for choosing to be my own person. Everything I do will always be seen as a selfish act by you. I can never make you happy, Charles."

"You have always made me happy, Y/N. Not my career, not my fame. It was wrong for me to say that, but it wasn’t my intention to disparage your choice, your career, or your life. I know you are not living your life as my girlfriend alone; you have your own dreams. I just got so—" He inhaled, looking away, unable to finish his words.

"Charles.."

He felt your cold hand on his, softly tugging it to get his attention and make him look at you.

"I just— I got so used to having you in my life every second before you moved away.” He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to hold in his tears. "I got so frustrated because I came home and it was cold. I was so used to hearing your voice the second I stepped into the house, so used to you screaming my name when you greet me as if you haven’t seen me for years. You moved away so sudden, and it felt so lonely. I am happy for you, Y/N. I am so happy when you tell me about your days at work. I fell in love all over again when I saw the way your eyes were glistening when you talked about your new, dream job, but I wanted you to be with me. It just felt so distant. I am the selfish one all this time. I’m sorry."

You were a crying mess. You had never seen him this broken before. When you accepted your job offer email, you were so perturbed that you would have a hard time living thousands of miles away from your boyfriend, but it never once occurred to you that he would get the short end of the stick. Instead of saying anything, you cradled his head against your neck.

Charles’ arms went around your waist as he buried his head in your neck, replenishing his longing to have you in his arms for weeks. It had been so long since he held you, taking all that you were, everything he ever needed.

"It is not a bad thing to not be able to see each other every day." You mumbled, pulling away to cup on his cheeks. "It is sad, of course, but having you to miss is a privilege to me."

"I never want to lose you, Y/N."

"We just need more patience, understanding, and trust, Charles. I need you to understand me." His hands went on your back as you rested your head on his chest.

"Can you give us another chance?" He felt it was impossible to hide the slight quaver in his voice, too anxious for the worst thing to come. "I truly understand if you don’t want to because—"

"I’m staying." You leaned away and beamed, stroking your thumb against his cheek. "As long as you’re trying, we are trying, and I’ll stay. We’ll be fine."

“I know I said it otherwise but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t come running to you if something happened. You are my life, Y/N.” 

You leaned into his hand, drowning yourself with his touch. “We both need to work on our communication skill. You suck at it.” 

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “Yeah, I am so bad it also costs me my happiness.”

“Can you stay here and keep me accompany for a couple of days?” You just couldn’t let him go today so you had to be self-obsessed today if it got him to be with you for at least another day.

“Of course, baby. Though I might need to buy some new clothes because this,” He extended his arms. “This is all I have.”

“You come here with just these?” There wasn’t any luggage, anything that made it seemed as if he were planning to come and visit you.

“Yeah, I came in a rush when I saw the picture you sent to Clara.”

“You are so silly. I only broke my hand!” He laughed along when you lifted up your hand cast, as if it was something normal to break your hand on a random Thursday.

“Only broke your hand? Only? Really, love. You even got stitches.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #char

[karshown]

[ papamin ] I wish that woman wouldn't stress me the way she does. // f!reader x kento. //

Oh the way Nanami kento would spend every penny, every dime left in his deep pockets just to see your eyes flicker with joy.

You were the only woman

that he allowed close.

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

YOU and your husband were out shopping, Kenji or as you called him, Ji-ji accompanied as he sucked his chubby thumb as if his life depended on it. Few people shot you and Kento various glances, some even went to the extreme by raising their eyebrows.

It was a shock to see him, with a woman like you. To your friends you two were a perfect match, you were classy but kento was beyond that, elegant but even beyond elegant. Maybe it was the fact that you a brown skinned woman with shape, walked alongside a man with lightly tanned skin and on top of that, he had a perfectly tall muscular figure.

You two were wearing completely different clothes at that, you decided to go simple today, as you threw on a tight, long black dress, with long sleeves to add on, it had a pretty perfect fit on you. Nanami naturally didn't settle for whatever 'normal' was to you, he always had to go out of his way with every outfit, he did it without realizing. He wore a black suit that matched your dress, and his usual watch, almost as if he had a major event to attend to but in all honesty he didn't.

You loved how he never settled for the normal things.

You scoffed, Kento shot you a glance as he barely paid any attention to anyone besides you & Ji-ji. His grip around your smaller hand tightened, as he snuck his fingers between yours, you held Ji-ji on your hip. One colorful shop caught your eye, as you and Nanami came to a stop right in front of it.

“This one?” Nanami observed the bright rainbow colors, especially the ones that stood out, the ones that reminded him of you which encouraged him to follow through with your idea. Before stepping in, you handed Ji-ji to Nanami for the time being just so you didn't get too distracted, Ji-ji was in a dying need of new clothes (he already had over 50+ sets but thats not the point.)

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

YOU found 10 new sets only minutes after stepping into the shop, everything was well put together so it was simple to find everything needed. Until you overheard the light laugh of a young woman, still around your age though, but that wasn't what bothered youーit was your husbands voice, too.

"Wheres his mother? or are you not married."

"Actually I-"

"Its fine, its not a shocker that you aren't married, thats how some women are nowadays, sadly." the worker whos name tag read 'Stepphie,' plastered a clearly fake pout on her face, as she put more clothes out onto the racks.

"Baby, whats going on?" you showcased your anger & jealousy in different ways, and just to be petty you had to rub it in her face, you lightly brushed your lips on Nanamis cheek, as he snaked his hand around your curvy waist.

"This is my lady, Y/N, also known asーmy beautiful wife."

You shot the woman an evil glance, as she stood there dumbfounded.

"If you allowed him to finish his sentence earlier, then you would know that hon." You lightly tapped her shoulder as she flushed pink to red, naturally embarrassed.

"M'sorry." she quickly turned away, finding other racks that needed a restock to easily distract herself.

Moments later, you three checked out.

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

"You couldn't tell she was flirting with you?"

"Honestly, no."

That didn't really surprise you, since it took you a good year to get Nanami to realize you grew fond of him, for 12 full months he didn't catch a single hint until the new years party, which even then it took one of your friends to accidentally blurt out the fact that you had a kiddie crush on Kento.

You placed the last bag down, aligning it with every other bag in the truck just because you're a slight perfectionist.

"I'll take your word for it, next time im not letting it slide."

"There wont be a next time, mylady."

"Thats even better," You shut the trunk closed as it clicked, Ji-ji was already in his car-seat & buckled in which left you with nothing else to do except getting home. You turned around to lightly kiss Nanami as his moisturized hand rested aside your lower back once more, deepening the kiss that was originally supposed to be light & short, which turned into long and passionate.

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

pt #2 ,, summary ー

y/n mysteriously finds herself getting sick, in to which nanami takes care of her, trying to slowly aid her back to being her normal healthy self.

--------------> read here !! -- half of what i planned for new years special 📰 '

// now as always, reblogs, notes, etc are always appreciated ,, //

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #shopping #wife

[daffi-990]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🏙️

Tagged by @diazsdimples & @tizniz. Make sure to check out what they shared today! (and maybe send James a virtual hug or a stupid punny joke? He’s been sick for 3 weeks and I’m sure he could use some cheering up 😘)

I have been wanting so desperately to write the past few days but a cold has my sinuses putting so much pressure on my head I feel like it’s going to explode, plus it’s school holidays and it’s been raining so I’ve got two very energetic kids with cabin fever running around causing mayhem 😅.

BUT! I did manage to write a little something for LA Lonely so yay (even though it may not be great, at least it’s words)

Pre snippet here

Buck is woken up by the shrill sound of a phone ringing. The bed jostles, Buck letting out an annoyed grumble as the warm body that is wrapped around him disappears. There is a kiss pressed to his naked shoulder, a whispered apology and then the rustling of the blankets as the person leaves the bed, answering the phone with a quiet hello.

Rolling over to check the time, Buck’s surprised to see that it’s almost 9. Usually his body clock wakes him up at 7am everyday, whether he stayed up late or not, so sleep-ins are a rare thing. He rolls onto his back, groaning as he stretches his arms up above his head. There’s a slight ache in his ass but it’s a reminder of the fantastic sex he had last night and honestly, Buck doesn’t mind the discomfort.

He hears footsteps on the stairs, the wood creaking slightly and then the most attractive man Buck has ever laid eyes on is standing at the foot of his bed wearing nothing but underwear and a soft apologetic smile that has Buck’s tummy swooping.

Eddie.

The man’s name is Eddie, Buck remembers. And remember he should because he was moaning it loud enough last night.

Eddie has a phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he picks up his jeans and begins to awkwardly shimmy them up his legs. “I told you, I overslept. But I’m getting ready now and can be there in —” he looks down at his wrist and frowns, his eyes sweeping over the discarded clothes on the floor before zeroing in on Buck’s second nightstand where a clunky watch sits. Eddie grabs the watch, quickly checking the time before he begins strapping it on. “I can be there in 20 minutes, 15 if the traffic is good.”

Buck feels a pang in his chest and then instantly chastises himself. This was just another hookup, a one night stand —nothing more than that. He was foolish to think that what he felt last night with Eddie was anything real. It was just the hormones.

Eddie may have stayed, but that was probably because he was hoping to get lucky again this morning. Or like Buck, he slept in and didn’t get a chance to sneak out before Buck woke up.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @spotsandsocks @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @wikiangela @athenagranted @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @goforkinard @rainbow-nerdss @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @dangerpronebuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @devirnis @donationwayne @shitouttabuck @sunshinediaz @princessfbi @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @captain-hen @bekkachaos @bigfootsmom @ladydorian05 @nmcggg @mellaithwen @missmagooglie and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag

#spoiler alert: Eddie would stay if he could but fatherhood calls and well that’s a call Eddie will always answer #daffi writes #wip: la lonely #Buck is being all self deprecating #but what else is new? #buddie wip #buddie #I really really want to finish Rival Firefighters so I can dive into my other wips #(and also post the first chapter for you guys!) #and I’m soooo close #but between the pounding head and the energetic munchkins .. I haven’t been able to keep the smutty writing beans going #though I have been on a bit of a little fic reading roll atm which is nice 😊 #having to slow down and rest (more like being forced to by my husband haha) gives me time to go through my MARKED FOR LATER library #okay I’ve probably rambled way too much #hugs to everyone ❤️

[octuscle]

Support dude, it’s me again, Mike. I hit you up so much I feel like I should pay you. And hey if you need that, I’ve got you just tell me. I owe you a shit ton, dude. Since you last helped me, Jack and I tied the fucking knot (and had a hell of a honeymoon haha hadn’t gotten so many noise complaints since high school) and I even moved into his place. Real big and nice like, would make a suburban man cream his pants and even a socialite would do a double take. For as filthy as he can be with me, big boss knows how to fucking live.

But I wouldn’t be hitting you up if everything was all sunshine and rainbows, eh? (Though one of these days I might convince Boss to let you in on our thing for a night or two, just to say thank you if that’s a thing you wanted wink) One of the neighbors apparently doesn’t like it so much when I invite some of the guys at work over for our, let’s call em team bonding events. He bitches and moans about how loud and rowdy we get and how it’s ruining the value of the neighborhood. I almost kicked his ass the first time he came by all bossy and shit, but Boss told me he was President of their HOA or whatever the fuck and that I couldn’t. So I’ve been trying to ignore the prude but if he comes over and ruins another good night I might lose my cool and I don’t wanna let down Boss like that.

Any way you can make the neighborhood meet our lifestyle choices better, dude? I don’t wanna give up this lavish living so soon, it’s nice as hell. But I don’t want it to change me. I wanna change it! Ain’t no reason we can’t live it up without being able to get down if you catch my drift. Can you help me?

I have not invested so much time in my favorite customers, so that you now become adapted suburban bourgeois. So it's time for me to take care of your neighbor. He may be the president of the HOA, after all. But that doesn't give him the right to regulate your private lives. But I could add a little spice to his.

Actually, the boring buffer is not a visitor to the gym. Thank God. So at least you have peace from him there. But today he feels like working out his muscles. And of course, when he enters the locker room, you run right into his arms. And the slimy ass-kisser can do nothing but shake your hand in a friendly way, as if you were best friends. Oops, sorry that your towel slips down.

Normally you are hard as granite when you come back from training. At the sight of your neighbor, the 8 inches dangle limply between your legs. He still seems impressed. To warn your man, you send him a quick message about what to expect during his workout. And write him that you are already preparing everything for dinner at home. "Everything is fine, stallion! daddy wont b disturbed during his workout. Ill b home in 2 hrs"

Your neighbor is blocking the very stations where Jack wants to work out. He has memorized the gym rules and points out every pissy infraction to your husband. In the beginning. But the more Jack sweats, the more musk he exudes, the hornier your neighbor gets. And slowly he starts to change. Actually, sleeveless tops are not allowed in the gym. You both don't care. And your neighbor now too. With the white wifebeater he looks almost like Jack's gym buddy. And he's starting to smell like one, too. It's hard to believe that just a few minutes ago he was the overgroomed suit guy. His armpit hair is sprouting. He obviously hasn't been to the barbershop in a few months either. He stops regimenting your husband. The two of them start working out together as if they've been doing it forever. Steve (your neighbor) can't get enough of having Jack's sweaty workout shorts hanging in front of his face during the bench press. His bulge gets bigger and bigger. And the damp spots in his shorts aren't just from sweat. Jack asks if it's not time to go to the locker room. Steve replies that he was already afraid that Jack wouldn't even ask.

"is it k if i bring a pal 2 dinner" texts Jack. "he 1't want much mor then ur cum and mine." "then he shud bring big appetite" you reply. Shit, this time when Steve shakes your hand, nothing is limp between your legs. Enjoy the evening with the president of the HOA to the fullest!

Pics all found @thelockerroomblog

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #inked man #wife beater #revange tf

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 9

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake has a surprise for you on the last day in California.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, pussy slapping, light dom/sub, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The next 2 days are spent tying up loose ends and spending time with the squad who’d welcomed you with open arms.

It was your final full day in California and you’d spent the afternoon at the beach with Bradley, Natasha, and Bob, with the others planning on heading over in a bit with food and more drinks.

You notice storm clouds in the distance, so you lean back into Jake’s chest. “I think it’ll miss us, but I think it’s time.”

“Okay, where are you thinking?” Jake asks, reaching for your bag holding the small water-biodegradable flower-shaped urn with some of your mom’s ashes.

“There,” you say, nodding to the empty pier over the water.

“I’ll give you a minute alone first?”

“Perfect,” you smile, pressing a kiss to his lips before you rise.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Tears are rolling down your face as you stand at the edge of the pier, reading the letter you wrote the day before.

Hey Mom,

I’m here in California. I can see why you had it in mind when you were pregnant with me; it’s beautiful. I’m so glad you broke down where you did though.

I still can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been when you found out about me. You were so brave and always so strong. I’m in love with Jake (which you and everyone else apparently knew). I wish you were here to see how happy he makes me. I’m sorry we didn’t figure it out until after you were gone. I miss you.

“You okay?” Jake murmurs as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“I am,” you sigh. “Just miss her.”

“Me too.”

He holds as you take a deep breath and drop the flower over the calm water, a stark contrast to the storm still in the distance. You both watch it for a few minutes before he releases you and takes a step back.

“Turn around, Charlie.”

The tears don’t stop and your heart begins to pound as you face him.

He’s down on one knee, holding a beautiful diamond ring.

“Yes!” You cry, wrapping your arms around his neck with a happy sob before he even has the chance to ask.

“I had a whole speech planned but I can’t remember any of it,” he chuckles as he places the ring on your finger, barely audible over the cheers and whistles from the squad.

“It doesn’t matter, my answer would still be yes. I love you, Jake. Always have, always will.”

“Charlie, look,” he whispers, nodding over your shoulder.

You smile through your tears as you see a stunning, vibrant rainbow over the water.

Love you too, Mom

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I promise I’d call my mama if she said yes. We’ll be back in a few,” Jake calls to the group as he pulls you towards his truck.

“If I said yes? Did you really think I’d say no?” You laugh.

He just smiles as he opens the back door of the cab and lifts you inside. He parked in the shade and left the windows cracked so the truck isn’t stifling as you get inside.

“Oh gosh, she’s gonna be so-“ you start to say but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“We’ll call her after, I need you first,” he murmurs against your lips, fumbling with the button to your shorts.

“You want to…here?” You ask as he dips his fingers into your bikini bottoms. “Yeah, okay…here’s good,” you agree when he finds your clit.

“So wet for me already,” he groans as he nudges your swim top with his nose to suck your nipple into his mouth.

“Have you seen yourself without a shirt? Been like this all day,” you pant, hands untying his shorts.

“And you didn’t tell me? Naughty, naughty girl.”

You shudder at his words. A moan is ripped from your throat when he bites down on your nipple the same time his fingers stop their circling to place a light slap to your clit.

“I…I mean, you make-fuck!” You stutter, crying out when he slaps your clit again. “Now Jake, I need you now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he growls against your breast before he lays you on the bench seat. You push your shorts off while he does the same to his before he climbs over you.

He runs the head of his cock through your slit, gathering your arousal before he pushes in with a satisfied groan.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you into the seat, pulling gasps from you with each thrust.

“Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife,” he grunts, reaching down between your bodies. “I’m gonna make you a mama…we’re gonna try out every kinky idea in that dirty mind of yours…” He slaps your clit, inhaling sharply as you clench around him. “We’ll definitely be exploring that more too. You like that?”

You whimper as you nod, on the knife’s edge of your orgasm.

“Or is it when I call you a naughty girl?” He pants, resting his head on your shoulder as his hips continue to pump into yours.

“Answer me,” he growls, biting your shoulder. He slaps your clit once more when you hesitate and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge with a muffled cry.

Unable to hold back from the sting of your nails in his back and the rhythmic tightening of your pussy, he cums too with a deep groan of his own.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I think there are some napkins in here,” Jake says, rifling through the center console a few minutes later after you’ve both caught your breath.

You whimper as he cleans between your legs, clit still puffy and sensitive. “Later, sweetheart,” he promises.

He fixes your hair when you sit up and you look each other over before heading back to the group near the water, roasting hotdogs over the fire.

“What’d your ma say? She pretty excited?” Bradley asks his eyes on the fire.

He looks up when neither of you replies, and laughs when he sees your ruffled appearance and the way you’re looking at each other with wide eyes.

“You guys were totally fucking!”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Thankfully your embarrassment is short-lived when Natasha brings up the times she’s caught nearly all of the other guys in the act.

The rest of the night is full of laughter and reminiscing. Your eyes fill with tears as he says his goodbyes. You know he’ll see them again but you can’t help but feel guilty that he’ll be leaving some good friends.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, putting his arm around your shoulder on the walk back to his truck when he hears you sniff.

“I feel bad that you’re leaving some of your best friends for me.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll still see ‘em. We’ll visit, they’ll visit. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them ended up transferring to Kingsville too. I’m not leaving California just for you either. Sure, you’re the big reason; I want to start a family and be closer to ours. But I’m also done with the deployments, the combat, the ejections, and nearly dying. I’m ready to teach the next gen.”

“Okay. Just don’t resent me, okay?”

“Never.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“So when do you want to tie the knot?” You ask much later when your appetites for each other are finally sated with your head on his bare chest.

“As soon as possible. You can order a dress online, I’ll wear my dress blues or a tux and we can get married at church and have the reception in Ma and Dad’s yard by the garden,” Jake jokes, fingers playing in your hair.

“That actually sounds perfect,” you smile.

“Really?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, Jake. I’d be happy to stop at the courthouse tomorrow but I can’t imagine Ruth would forgive us if she’s not present. How mad was she when you told her about the proposal?”

“The only reason she didn’t drag me to the woodshed was because I told her about your plan to spread Lisa’s ashes. I hope you didn’t find that morbid, I just wanted you to feel like she was a part of it too.”

“Not at all, Jake. It was perfect.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: it’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me (I want Jake to call me naughty and spank/slap/choke/humiliate me). Fuck.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

#jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick

[exhuastedpigeon]

WIP Wednesday

I had so many plans to write the baseball AU during my lunch today but instead I started a Buddie married in Vegas fic and somehow wrote 1.3k in an hour. What can I say, I guess Ryan and Oliver all dirty in those 100th ep pictures got my writing mojo back.

“That’s a fair point,” Buck grinned and melted a little when Eddie draped an arm around his shoulders. “You’re buying though, mister money bags.” “The three hundred I started with is already safely back in the bank. I’m doing this weekend on just my winnings,” Eddie pulled out the wad of cash he’d won at the casino and grinned, his canines poking out as he did. Buck wanted to push Eddie against the wall of the elevator and feel those teeth on his lip, but he kept his hands to himself.  They did end up at the tiki bar that Buck had spotted on their way to the hotel. It was all neon lights and fake palm trees with the little poker computers taking up one side of the bar. Eddie headed to the bar to get them each a drink while Buck grabbed a table.  “I may have made a mistake,” Eddie said when he joined Buck a few minutes later, two drinks as big as Buck’s head in hand. “I didn’t realize they were sharing size, I just thought they were expensive because it's Vegas.” “Come on Eddie, how many child free weekends in Vegas are we going to get in our lives?” Buck said, throwing Eddie’s own words back at him with a laugh. He took one of the drinks from Eddie and took a long sip out of one of the curly straws that were poking out of the top of the giant tiki glass. The drink was fruity and light in a way that made Buck wonder how much alcohol could actually be in it.  It turns out the answer was a lot. He'd been a little tipsy when they got to the bar, but he had no memory of leaving or getting back to their hotel. The last memory he had before everything got blurry was of Eddie’s hand on his thigh again and his own hand on the bare skin of Eddie’s chest where Eddie’s button down had come unbuttoned at the top. 

tagged by @diazsdimples @actualalligator @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @tizniz @dangerpronebuddie @cal-daisies-and-briars

No pressure tagging @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @puppyboybuckley @jeeyuns @eddiebabygirldiaz @devirnis @rainbow-nerdss @elvensorceress @buddierights @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @shitouttabuck @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @acountrygirlsfun @rosieposiepuddingnpie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @thewolvesof1998 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @thekristen999 @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to share!

#wip wednesday #buddie #buddie wip #my wip #wip: waking up in vegas

[saphirered]

Could we get an angsty/fluff fic with Azriel x reader? Maybe like they have a fight, and take a few days to make up? honestly literally anything with Azriel.

It's been a hot minute but here we go. Loads of angsty and a lil' fluffy ending. Hope it's to your liking! 😘

When imagining a perfectly healthy happy and typical romantic relationship Azriel is one of the last beings on anyone’s mind, most of all his own. The simple truth is that his life and lifestyle simply does not accommodate the typical, comes with many trials and strings attached he cannot seem to shake, let alone the potential dangers of bringing anyone into this life who isn’t already in it to begin with. He may have longed for affection, for love; things he has lacked in his life, and he may have indulged in the first shreds he was thrown but always have they been fleeting. Always have they led to unbalance and unhealthy dynamics, mindsets and things he’s fought hard to be free of. He’s treaded with care any time anyone shows anything other than a physical attraction. He can deal with the physical but the moment feelings get involved, anything more than surface. He eventually grew desensitised. He’d keep lovers at arms’ length and the few longer term partners, always a wall between them and him. For many reasons these relationships didn’t last. 

You entered his life in the most peculiar way. He was unprepared for the marvel that is you. You weaselled your way into his arms and in time you also took a sledgehammer to that wall. And he let you. Not just did he let you, he embraced it, he helped you break it down. Granted, it took you a solid decade and mostly he’d reserve this just for you but you’d told him if he could be like this with you, he could allow himself to open up more to others. It would take time and he’d do so at his own pace but part of him would always be reserved for you. You have seen the best and the worst of him. You’ve listened to his story, his frustrations and every thought he was willing to share and it is terrifying. It is terrifying you know him as well as you do but it is equally enticing. 

Your dynamic evolved and turned into something more. You evolved from friends to friends with benefits to lovers to partners. You offered him love and affection, comfort and safety. You offered and in the beginning he took freely. He learned from you and so he taught himself to give back. He would not just take any longer, but he would give in turn. You had to teach him to give only when he can and not when he feels he has to. But that doesn’t mean it’s been all rainbows and sunshine from then on. No relationship is without trial and complications and your lives are incredibly complicated, incredibly entwined in the mess of the week, year or century, the messes of others, this court, continent and beyond. It takes its toll but you’ve learned how to navigate these and do so to the best of your abilities. Sometimes either of you may slip up and you can count on each other to remind the other and set things straight so you can move past it together. You communicate. You’ve told Azriel many times that communication is the foundation of any healthy and functioning relationship and he can only agree. Perhaps that’s why he feels extra horrible now…

He has taken his usual place in the shadows watching the promenades from afar, sending out his shadows to listen and watch what he can’t. Another meeting held at Dawn wrapped in the shine and shimmer of its court, while the birds spy. Azriel was prepared. He studied the guest list closely, has intel on every single one of them, sorted out which people are of interest and which ones are to be watched but not necessarily as closely. He’s keeping more of an eye on those damned birds than he is on the resident High Lord of this court knowing they will always flock to their master, always singing the secrets he so obsessively collects. Though his attention is drawn to that High Lord, to Thesan and the company he keeps. Thesan is engulfed in conversation with someone he knows to be from the Continent and a rather nasty and ruthless part too. He’s seen what they’ve done. 

What passes through his head is clear in the moment and irrational at worst but Azriel deems his actions right either way. Within but a second he interrupts. He’s right there with you and he catches onto Thesan’s blink of surprise followed by curiosity; something he does not want to provoke further. 

“Azriel. What a pleasure.” Thesan bows his head in acknowledgement of the Shadowsinger. You had hoped to avoid this moment but you know it might have been inevitable given he’s the spymaster and you are not. You’d hoped Thesan’s company might have been enough to keep you in the clear. It had not. Here he stands in front of you, and you feel his fingers lightly wrap around your wrist. What pleasantries the High Lord of Dawn might offer, out of custom of course, they do not warrant enough for Azriel to do the same. He just gives a half-assed nod of acknowledgement and turns his attention to you with an urging but unreadable expression. 

“Your needed elsewhere.” He doesn’t want to be caught in a lie. He doesn’t want to risk it. He would not have thought twice about lying were he on his own or literally anyone else was in your place right now. If it weren’t for you he likely would not have interfered but he knows what he knows, and he has to get you out now without revealing a anything the Continent envoy might deem usable. Despite something within your eyes speaking to him, threatening to call his bullshit, you don’t. Though it’s very clear you won’t let this go. He’ll deal with the consequences. As long as you are safe. He’ll face your wrath, anyone’s wrath for your safety. He’d face a thousand armies just to see you smile. He’ll raise hell for you. 

“My deepest apologies, milords. It appears I must abandon you now. Though I’d wish to continue our conversation at soonest convenience. If you would excuse me.” You play the game even in this disaster. You play down the scene Azriel might be causing should his sudden presence be noted. You are excused and before you can think a second thought you fall through shadow, out of the sun and into a darker part of the gardens where you know no one will see you now. 

“Why must you undermine me?” You throw your hand in the air in frustration and shake your head taking a deep sigh. Unbelievable. Your blood boils and you try to quell it lest the birds spy you. You don’t want to be near him right now but you know you’ll have to to get out of here. 

“I can explain later. I just wanted to protect you.” You ball your hands into fists at your side but unclench one as you stretch it out towards him. Though you do not give him the opportunity to put his hand in yours like he’s held on thousands of times before. You do not offer him that wink you do right before you’ll drop the both of you through the fabric of this world. 

“This conversation isn’t over yet.” Is all you say when you grab onto his upper arm and through the void you two fall, off far away from Dawn. 

———— 

“Is it too much to want to protect you?” Azriel raises his voice as you storm past him. He follows as you go through to your room. He watches you go through your drawers, your wardrobe collecting direct necessities and throw them into a bag. He watches as your jaw tenses; you bite your tongue. Your features spark with a fury and not even that single deep breath can truly keep the frustration from your voice. 

“Don’t you see your protection is suffocating me, Azriel!” You grasp at your chest as if to rip the pain away but you simply can’t. Your heart aches. It is as if his fingers are wrapped around the very organ and despite it all your heart will remain here, no matter how far you go or how upset you are. You will tear yourself in two and right now, you’re prepared to deal with that pain because you simply can’t stay here. If you begin seeing this place, this embrace as a gilded cage there is no way back. You don’t want your love to turn to resentment but it’s on the verge. You have to get away. You have to go where he can’t chase. You have to salvage what’s left and nourish if you can, or bury if it’s already too late. 

“I want you to be safe. I asked you to be safe and you promised me yet here you are tangling yourself into a web you can’t begin to understand. You haven’t seen the things they’re capable of-“ You raise your hand and he stops as it balls into a fist and lowers at your side again. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try to compose yourself. 

“Don’t forget I’ve played this game just as long as you. You’re not the only one who faces the cruelties of this world. You can’t just pull me away when you see something you don’t like.” You pull the drawstring closed and turn, leaning against the dresses crossing your arms. It infuriates you you can’t get your body under control, that you can’t banish that tremble from your form and it shows just how your emotions trash against the surface of your skin, how much you want to scream and shout and cry but you can’t, you won’t. You hate it. You hate you have to stifle your feelings to bring across the message clearly. You will endure. You will shout your frustrations to the snowy mountains for weeks until your voice is gone if that’s what it takes. 

“Do you know what they would have done to you if they found out? If they sought to explore any opportunity to gain the upper hand. You would have been their first and easiest choice. You expect me to just let you walk into that? To risk your life like that?” Azriel counters He stretches and curls his fingers. Were you less tuned into every single twitch, you might have missed the gentle cracking of the digits. He’s just as tense as you are. You still scoff. 

“Oh, so like you do every time you leave for weeks on end? Where I have to await word from Rhys to know if you’re still alive? Every time I leave do you feel that that goodbye kiss might be the last one? Do you see within me the haunting you return with sometimes? You are burdened by the fact our jobs may just overlap a whole lot more than you initially thought but that is not my burden to bear.” You have suffered this a thousand times before. You’ve paced around when you hadn’t heard word from him. You’ve been the one to drag him out of the grime when he got caught. You’ve been the one that sat at his bedside while he laid there within an inch of his life. You’ve dealt with the heartache and pain of seeing him return more haunted than he left and you’ve watched him grow so used to it, watched that calm distance overtake the warmth you know burns within him and with every passing day it becomes harder, the line between who he is and who he has to be becomes more blurred and you fear one day he will not recover, one day he’ll forget who he is and give into the horrors he faces. You fear one day you might lose him. 

“That’s unfair-“ Azriel knows what you fear. He fears it too but to have those words spoken by you, to know that is not a fear he shares for you, but the mere thought of the loss of you that might send him spiralling further, whether it’s self-preservation or selfishness, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what or why he feels it. The one thing he’s sure of is he loves you, but he won’t deny that part of him that’s afraid of what you could do to him. 

“What’s unfair is the fact you think you can just take away my agency because you have some irrational need to protect me from my own choices. What’s unfair is that whether you realise or not, you are imprisoning me in a gilded cage. If you wanted a songbird to sing you pretty songs on demand you should find one because that’s not me. It will never be me.” And that’s where it all comes falling down. He is angry and upset. He’s frustrated and disappointed. But mostly with himself when those are the words you speak. He’s let those parts of him slip too far and he’s crossed a line. What he feels worst about is that he does not feel sorry for his actions. He only feels sorry he hurt you in the process and that’s something far worse to unpick, something he should not let fester and grow. 

“If I don’t fit your wants in a partner, then maybe you should find someone else. I’ll extend you the curtesy you didn’t extend to me and I’ll let you come to your own decision.” With that you disappear. Not but the traces of your moving throughout this room, the missing belongings you took and the remaining scent of your presence for everything else is empty. 

Azriel stands alone in that abandoned bedroom with nothing but his thoughts and a feeling of cold emptiness in his chest. He took your agency. He took your choice. You were right. That stings. He feels as if his heart has left with you and now there’s not but a gaping darkness he dares not to touch. He might not fear the dark or the shadows. In fact he feels quite content among them. This is different. This is the insides of a monster he has faced few times and he does not wish to face now, not when he is weak and hurting and it’s so easy to let that pain be taken away. He won’t let it gain ground. He won’t. He’s seen your look of disappointment, of hurt and anger, of pain caused by his actions and he does not want to face it when you meet again. He doesn’t know how long you’ll be gone for but he knows you’ll return. If only to settle the matter. He’ll have time to settle his thoughts. He’ll have time to figure this out because if the best way to keep you safe, to keep you happy is to not be at your side, then he must accept the consequences of his own actions just as much. No matter how much it hurts, how much he wants to keep you at his side. He cannot interfere in your life and make those choices for you. You must be able to live. 

————

You’ve been gone for nearly two weeks. Two whole weeks to be alone with your thoughts. You have shouted your voice hoarse, screamed those frustrations to the skies with nothing but the breeze to keep you comfort. When your feelings went numb you stood in the snow to feel that cold tingle to remind yourself you’re still alive; can still feel anything at all. You’ve thought about everything. You’ve spent countless hours pacing and wandering. You’ve sat in front of the fire and laid awake in bed until the early hours of the morning, where the first light just barely crests over the horizon. You’ve come to realise this is the beginning of the end if there’s no change, if there’s no willingness to make this work. You want to make this work. You love Azriel. You also love him enough to let him go if you’re the poison to his heart, no matter how much it hurts. 

You’ve come to understand his actions, irrational as they may have been, but not entirely unfounded. You disagree with them still but after your little spat, you understand and that’s enough for you to say you’re willing to work on this, to get through it and reestablish a new normal for the two of you, if only he’s willing to do the same. Perhaps it’s arrogant to say you think you know him well enough that he will, that his feelings are strong enough to be willing to put in the effort to make this work, to set these boundaries clearly and set the consequences for crossing them. 

That’s when you feel comfortable returning home. It is your home. It feels like home. You smile when you cross the threshold, watch the cleaned remains of dirty boots having been placed by the door, see the drag marks too. Someone might have been carried in after an eventful night and by the pattern you feel safe to assume that drunken deadweight must have been Cassian. You move through the house, to see the little reminders of Azriel’s presence. You go up to the bedroom, to unpack your belongings. The neatly folded laundry has yet to be put in the right places so you put it away. The smell of mist and cedar more present. You close the wardrobe door and notice the shadows are a little darker than they naturally are. You close the wardrobe and in the doorframe of the bedroom Azriel stands, holding a breath he’s seemingly not aware of. 

He feels the thudding in his chest, the beating of his heart, as if it had stopped entirely in your absence and only now kickstarts again. You take a deep breath. He takes a hesitant step towards you and another. You meet him in the middle, close but not as close as you used to be. You take his hand from his side, only to make him realise how tense he truly had been until you touch his palm and uncurl his fingers, blood returning. You hold onto his hands. 

“Hello, Azriel.” His heart leaps. You speak with a warmth that sparks within him that ember he’s been nursing with great difficulty. Your absence has reminded him that his life is better with you in it and he will do whatever he needs to to be the person you deserve. He wants to be the right person, not the one it feels easy to be. It may not be an overnight change but if you’re there to pull him back onto the right path when he’s lost, he’ll be on his knees thanking you for the rest of eternity. In fact, he’ll start now. 

“Could you ever forgive me?” Azriel lowers to his knees as you hold his hands in yours. You look at him with those indescribable eyes. You don’t speak. You don’t need to because in beyond those eyes he sees your past two weeks; you’ve done your own thinking and you have thought long and hard about this. It’s not been an easy decision or conclusion but you nod and with that, the ember sparks once again. You’re willing to try. For him. It won’t be an overnight change but you’ll get there together. 

Azriel feels a slight tug on his hands and he follows your lead, rising back to his feet. You simply wrap your arms around his waist and hold onto him, pressing your face against his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders like he has done a thousand times before. A thousand times but it never grows old. 

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel

[roseallisonparker]

I’m With You

I’m With You

Premise: soulmate!au, takes place in a world where when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, you see color for the first time.

Inspired by Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You”

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!Reader

Word Count: 9.2K words

Warnings: a brief description of losing virginity, mentions of drinking, violence, fluff, angst with a happy ending, a tad bit canon non-compliant

Note: It’s taken me a few weeks to fully write this but please let me know what you think! I’ve never written for this fandom even though I’ve loved it for years. I hope y’all enjoy. Special thanks to my sisters, my friends, and the mutuals here on this site that constantly inspire me with their talent every day.

Taglist: @mattsgirlsworld @stilldreaming666 @hellskitchens-whore @bellaxgiornata @acharliecoxedfan​

I’m standing on a bridge,

I’m waitin’ in the dark,

I thought that you’d be here by now…

There’s nothing but the rain,

No footsteps on the ground,

I’m listening but there’s no sound…

Wandering aimlessly in the rain through the city's wet streets felt like the best way to clear your head from the overwhelming loneliness that arrived with your final few months of college. The party you were just at was raving with energy from a successful finals week, but seeing all of your friends celebrate the end of this chapter in life with their partners had begun to burn a hole deep in your once hopeful heart.

Growing up, you had always imagined you’d find your soulmate in middle school like your parents had. They had run into each other in the cafeteria on their first day and had finally seen each other, their worlds blossoming with their first glimpses of color. The telltale sign that they had met their soulmate. You would fall asleep to this story they had shared with you running over and over in your mind, ideas of that rainbow-filled time of your life coming true fueling your sweet dreams.

The first day of sixth grade was filled with so much excitement. You had dressed well, eyes bright with hope as you walked into the first class on your schedule, awaiting the moment when you would finally see the world turn from dull greys into bright hues.

Nothing happened that day. You had hoped for the next few days that you would finally meet him, that you had missed him in the cafeteria.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Months became years.

Isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me?

Won’t somebody come take me home?

Moving to New York was an easy choice for you. After all of high school had passed without ever finding your soulmate, you decided that living in a city with a high density of population mixed with a large tourist rate would be your next course of action. Getting accepted into Columbia University with a scholarship was the perfect catalyst for you to pack your things, stuff them into a Uhaul, and drive down the highway until you reached the bustling island of Manhattan.

You chose Journalism last minute as your major but lacked the enthusiasm for it until you realized just how many people you would meet and the endless number of stories you would hear from those with similar experiences to yours. It helped lessen the loneliness and disappointment you experienced and strengthened your optimism. Investigative work became something you were fond of as well. Discovering the truth and using your resources to find the answers you craved was a skill you ended up being quite competent at.

In an effort to increase your chances of seeing your soulmate, every day you’d made it part of your schedule to take a walk around the surrounding neighborhood in the Upper West Side, scanning over every single person’s face, yearning to see the sky transform into the blue color you were told it was. 

One day during your sophomore year, you were taking one of those walks with your classmate Diane, the both of you blabbering about mindless things, making your way to your next lecture. 

“No, but Professor Stevens has to have it out for me! I swear, it��s gonna be impossible to pass.” You complained while the setting sun felt warm on your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m gonna place bets on that.” She teased, nudging into your shoulder. “Don’t let me down, babe.” She jokingly pleaded, the both of you laughing when suddenly she looked ahead and gasped. You froze, thinking something was wrong but you followed her eyeline to see another woman staring back at her with the same awe-struck gaze.

You’d never seen it happen before. That all-too-important moment when two soulmates found each other was something you hadn’t been fated to see yet. But here it was, and wasn’t it a sight to behold. You captured every look on Diane’s face, the wonder that washed over her features as her eyes flitted over everything surrounding her. Her smile was beaming. Almost unknowingly, she slowly pattered over to her soulmate, the other woman looking at Diane like she was the only other person in this world.

It was truly a beautiful sight, and yet you couldn’t help but feel the envy crushing your spirit unlike it had before.

Your senior year of college arrived quickly considering just how much studying you felt like you’d done in the past few years. The first day of classes for your second to last semester came around and you had to add extra credit to your transcript, choosing the most far-fetched language Columbia had to offer: Punjabi.

It wasn’t your first choice, but you were already set on Spanish, French, and Italian 101 courses, so Punjabi it was. The lecture hall assigned for the class was small, and you chose a seat in the back.  A few other students were quietly filing in, and you still had a few minutes to spare, so you got around to taking out your notebooks. The door to the room opened, and a loud voice accompanied the action. A student with shoulder-length blond hair, a cross-body bag, and a big, infectious smile spoke to someone down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll thank me later for this.” He dismissed the unseen person, their voice popping up next.

“Let me know if that girl ends up asking for your number, Fog.” The voice said. ‘Fog’ threw his hands out and shook his head.

“Shush, I’ll update you, Murdock.” ‘Fog’ loudly whispered, proceeding to close the door. He then turned around to face the room, every student including yourself staring at the mild commotion. Eyes widening slightly, he bowed his head and made his way to the seat beside yours in the back. Once he settled, you turned to him, curious.

“What girl?” You questioned in a whisper, your eyes scanning the small group of about fifteen students in front of you.

“Huh?” He squinted, confused.

“Which girl’s number are you hoping for?” You clarified, endlessly drawn toward love stories.

‘Fog’s’ gaze landed on a pretty girl seated at the front of the classroom, his eyes softening. “Her name is Charlotte,” His voice was quiet, sharing the secret with you, “She mentioned the class being on her schedule during a party. Thought she’d maybe ask to study or something…” He trailed off. Looking back up, he grinned at you. “What about you? Why’re you taking the class?” 

Foggy, whose name you properly learned shortly after your meeting, became your friend and study partner for the class after Charlotte started dating someone in her Sociology class. 

Punjabi was a complex language to learn and Foggy was sure to attend every class to make sure he didn’t miss anything. But one day, as class passed, he never showed. You shot him a quick text. U good? Missed u at class today.

You waited a few minutes, a reply popping in. Im downtown in the kitchen. Dad in hospital.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern and you quickly typed out your response. srry. hope Dad is ok. I’ll drop off notes at dorm. Roommate in?

A minute passed, and another text appeared. Yes. tysm.

You made copies of your notes at the library and then headed to Foggy’s dorm, heading down the hallway towards his room, having never been in this particular building before. You made it to the door, and knocked quickly, calling into the room, “Hey, anyone in there?”

You heard some mixed giggling from a woman and the guy who you assumed was the roommate Foggy had spoken about. A loud bang came from inside the room followed by a few rushed footsteps, and the door quickly opened slightly, revealing said woman covered in only a button-down shirt. You felt heat rush up your face at the sight, clearly interrupting something. The beautiful woman smiled with mischief in her eyes, her panting breath puffing out of her.

“Can we help you?” She asked with her mildly accented voice, smooth and playful. You then heard a slightly familiar voice coming from deeper in the room.

“Elektra, who’s at the door?” The voice, which you assumed was coming from Foggy’s roommate, rumbled in the background. In a panic, embarrassment taking over, you quickly shoved the notes into her hands, not wanting to interrupt any more than you already had.

“These are for Foggy. Tell him I said ‘Hi’ and that I hope his dad is alright!” You squeaked out, quickly turning away and walking down the hallway and around the corner.

Matt had shuffled up to Elektra by the door, hearing your booming heartbeat and rushed footsteps heading out of the building. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nuzzled his nose into her neck, breathing deeply. “Who was that?” 

He felt her shrug and heard her carelessly shuffling through the papers in her hands. “Looks like Punjabi…” She said offhandedly, turning into his arms, “Now… where were we?” They got lost in each other once again, the notes falling to the floor, forgotten.

It’s a damn cold night,

Trying to figure out this life,

Won’t you take me by the hand?

Take me somewhere new,

I don’t know who you are,

But I, I’m with you…

I’m with you…

You didn’t think you would ever come to this. You had spent every night walking around town, making sure your eyes met every face they could. You made the big move, you got an entry-level job at the Bulletin, a career that would help you constantly be around new people. And you had saved yourself in every way possible so that when the time came for you to finally meet and be with your soulmate, you could reassure yourself that it would be perfect. That he would have all of you.

But now you found yourself on a random guy’s couch, whiskey running through your veins, your pants on the floor, and your head spinning with the realization of what you had just done. 

You had been sitting in one of your low points, drinking your sorrows away at a dive bar around the corner. He had begun to hit on you and the sweet words coming out of his mouth sounded so lovely to your ears. His name was John. He had shared his loneliness, sensing the same coming from you. And he had asked if you wanted to head over to his place. You answered yes. One thing lead to another. He didn’t know it was your first time.

It was quick. You were both inebriated and once it was done, he had left to use the bathroom. The shame of feeling like you were cheating on your soulmate and the meaninglessness of the ordeal filled your mind quickly, and you shoved your pants back on, running out the door into the cold night. You threw up outside on the steps of the apartment, falling back and hugging your legs to your chest, crying into your knees at three in the morning.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Since you were a child you had been living for the idea of your soulmate. Everything from what you wore to school to your extracurriculars in high school, where you moved, which college you chose, and which major you picked.

It hurt, and it was exhausting how nothing amounted to your efforts.

One day, you decided. You were no longer going to live for your soulmate.

You would start living for yourself.

Being cuffed to a table wasn’t your idea of living for yourself.

The dim lights of the interrogation room filled you with anxiety when you wondered just how stupid it was you were even in there. You were getting close to a breakthrough in the illegal heroin distribution going on throughout the city. You finally got a name; “Steel Serpent.” You knew there had to be more beyond that, so you began investigating different leads on where production could be. It turns out, once you entered one of the empty warehouses on the pier, you gave the space a once over and found the small packet of the drug, the now familiar script on the front marking the brand you had been searching for.

Before you could even put away the evidence with your gloves to take it back to the authorities and the Bulletin, the doors to the building burst open, and two detectives with their guns drawn headed toward you quickly with handcuffs ready in their hands, reading your Miranda rights, not even saying what you were being detained for.

And that’s how you found yourself staring at your tired reflection in the mirror, refusing to say a word to Detective Blake.

On the other side of the double-sided mirror, stood two up-and-coming lawyers. Foggy was given another call from Brett Mahoney (those cigars he bought his mom were really paying off) and he recognized your name from the one class you had shared in college, and it had been quite a few years since you’d last seen each other. Matt stood to his left, speaking to the officer who had arrested you, wondering why this innocent investigative journalist was arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Why are they being held here? On what charge did you arrest them?” Matt had asked Detective Hoffman with a bite in his tone, knowing this was the same corrupt detective who had arrested Karen just a few weeks ago. He knew something was up and that quite a few cops were dirty at this precinct, and possibly every other one in this city. 

Just before the two were to enter the room to assist you, Matt got a phone call on his other phone meant for his nightly duties. 

“Please, excuse me.” He quickly excused himself to go and pick it up, hearing Claire’s screaming in the background. The Russians had found her. “Claire?”

Her muffled yells sent an immediate chill down his spine, the devil itching to claw his way free to save her. He shut the phone in his hand, turning to his partner.

“Something’s come up,” He calmly told Foggy, “Let me know how this goes.” He left the precinct without waiting for an answer, trusting Foggy to take care of this situation. 

Little did you both know that you just had your second close call for finally meeting your soulmate. 

When Matt lost his sight, one of the first things he mourned was how he would never get to know what color looked like. His memory of the world was bleak and grey, but when his senses started to kick in and paint a picture of the city around him, the world on fire was the best he would ever get. 

One night, after the accident, Jack Murdock sat with Matt as his son stitched up his wounds from a fight.

“Matty… have I ever told you about how I met my soulmate?” Jack asked softly, knowing the answer to the question, but sensing that his son would benefit from hearing about it.

“No, Dad. You haven’t.” Matt responded, feeling around his father’s forehead for the rest of the gash he was closing up, his usual swig of whiskey soothing the shakes in his hands.

“Well, it wasn’t a huge moment like you may have heard people say it is-” Jack winced as the needle entered his skin, “But it was magical.”

Matt’s hand froze, “Magical?” He parroted, intrigued. Jack nodded.

“It was about eight, no, nine years ago, and I was fighting in the ring of course. It was an open fight, and I didn’t have anyone to back me up when I was in the corner. A break between rounds came and I looked into the crowd.” His voice softened as he reminisced, encouraging his son’s hands to keep up their work.

“Your mother was there, looking at me, and the room was overwhelming me with all of the sudden color. But the timer was ticking, and I didn’t have time. I waved her over and asked for her help. To just clean my wounds and squeeze the water into my mouth. And even though the moment came and went, we both knew…” Jack trailed off. Matt finished tying off the last stitch, the quick pain snapping the older Murdock out of it.

“I was wearing red and yellow shorts that day, turns out. I stuck with them.” He finished.

It was the only time Jack had ever spoken about his soulmate. About Matt’s mother. 

When Elektra came into his life years later that night at the gala, they both knew they weren’t each other's soulmates. She had once told him that she thought she would never have one. And Matt resonated with that. He had once thought that God had punished him. That he was cursed. That he wouldn’t know he had a soulmate until they found him. 

But being with Elektra made him feel like he could go on through life without needing one. She saw that darkness in him and leeched it out, encouraging his dependency on her for making each day more bearable than the last. And when she faced him with the opportunity to finally get revenge on the man who ended his father’s life, Matt almost took it.

But his father didn’t want him fighting, let alone killing others. His father would’ve never wanted Matt to sin on his behalf. He couldn’t do it.

Even if he was fated to be damned to live life without his soulmate, he wouldn’t give God another reason to punish him. He’d at the very least have hope in that regard.

Turns out that simple false detainment without real cause was pretty illegal, and you were let out shortly after Foggy threatened to sue the NYPD, not only for your case but for a few others he had heard about. But it seemed even after you left the building with an old’s friend’s phone number and your freedom, you weren’t gonna be left off the hook that easily.

A few nights later on your way home late from the Bulletin, threatening footsteps were closing in from behind you, making your heart rate spike, your chest tightening in preparation for what was about to come. The man behind you had followed you for a few blocks and you had purposefully walked in a circle to affirm he was after you. Once the man had caught on, he decided to strike. And you were right because not even a second later were you shoved down into an alley, and a second man appeared from behind a dumpster. 

You screamed for help, your voice already hoarse from the tense energy you held in your body. You had landed on your hands and knees, feeling the asphalt scratch bloody wounds into your skin. You tried to scramble back up to run, but the second assailant had wrenched your arm to the side, pulling you into the brick wall of the building adjacent. Your head hit the wall first, immediate stars blinding your vision (definitely a concussion) and you heard their footsteps coming closer, your leg instinctively kicking out and making contact with one of them. They grumbled in pain but you weren’t strong enough, another helpless scream coming out of you. 

“Anyone, help me!” You screeched until you felt a knife placed against your throat. You immediately stilled and your breath hitched in your throat. They were speaking in a language you didn’t understand (it could’ve been Russian?) and you sent a quick prayer to the universe, feeling yourself calm down as you slowly accepted that you were probably not gonna make it out. Just as you closed your eyes you felt the man holding you shift to the side, the metal against your neck disappearing, the sounds of punches and grunts filling the alley. Another person had joined the altercation, but for the better, because it seemed like they were saving you. You kept your eyes closed, your knees giving out, falling to the ground. 

You huddled in on yourself, feeling a panic attack coming along as you reeling from the realization that you thought you were ready to die. 

You weren’t. Not really. 

And it baffled and scared you at how easily you gave up the fight.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the sounds of attack had stopped, the only things you could make out were the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and the sound of heaving and panting coming from someone near you. You looked up to see him, a yelp coming out of your throat.

His chin was red with blood.

Red with blood.

Red.

Red blood. Faded orange lights coming from the streetlamps by the sidewalk. A dark blue dumpster. A green flyer for a dry cleaning service on the asphalt.

“Oh my god-” You let out in awe, looking back at your soulmate. The man in black that had been wreaking havoc across Hell’s Kitchen. He was your soulmate. You finally found him. You already felt the tears of relief falling down your cheeks. You smiled up at him. “It’s you.”

But something was off. He just tilted his head, as though he was listening for something. He wasn’t excited, surprised, happy. There was nothing to show that he was also going through the incredible moment of finding his soulmate. 

“Why are the Russians after you?” He gruffed out.

Your heart fell to your chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You’ve dreamt of this moment for your whole life, awaiting that time when you could continue through your new colorful existence hand in hand with your soulmate. And he was acting like not a single thing in his world had changed. Your chest began to clench with dread. 

You stuttered out a confused answer, your tears now coming down your face for a different reason, “I-I don’t know why… Russians? I was investigating heroin leads and money laundering schemes…” Your voice was losing energy, your eyes searching the man in black for any sign that his life was changed as much as yours just was. Your chest felt like it could concave on itself with disappointment.

He just nodded, his head tilting once more, as though he was hearing something you couldn’t, and then he began to walk toward the darkness. “Take a cab home.” He gruffly said, walking away from you, and disappearing into the night.

You watched as your soulmate left you on the floor of the alley, bodies strewn on the ground beaten and bleeding. Your heart joins them there. 

He heard your screams from a few blocks away and started running on the rooftop, quickly making his way over and under any obstacle in his way. He could recognize the Russian coming out of your assailants’ mouths and could hear the knife’s sharp edge scratching against your throat. Matt leaped from above onto the first man, taking him down to the ground, but felt the second snap into action and pull him off of his partner. 

You had huddled down on the ground a few feet away, so Matt head-butted the second Russian, kicking the first in the chin. He could all of a sudden hear your heartbeat getting way too fast, and it distracted him for a moment, one of the assailants getting an uppercut in. Matt felt blood rush into his mouth, so he spat it out, blood dripping down his chin. Fueled by the pain, he made quick work of knocking the both of them out, his attention turning to you. 

He heard your breath stutter, and your heart race once again, assuming that you were looking at him. He could taste the salt from your tears and the fear in the air. You finally spoke, “Oh my god… it’s you.”

He knew the man in black was being spoken about across Hell’s Kitchen, with residents fearing his wrath. But you didn’t seem scared. He guessed you were thankful from the sound of your smile in your words. 

But he had questions he needed answered. “Why are the Russians after you?” He’d asked.

He could hear the confusion in your voice when you answered, and even though your heart was still racing, it wasn’t skipping with any lies. You truly didn’t understand why you were being targeted. He nodded and realized he wouldn’t get much out of you. Before he could ask if you were alright, he heard some more cries for help in the distance. 

“Take a cab home.” He muttered, swiftly disappearing deeper into the alley, making his way towards the violence he craved, violence that would soothe the devil that resided inside of him. He made a mental note to call the police as soon as he got the chance to report the two bodies he left there and moved on with his night.

After Ben Urich’s murder, you had officially stopped all leads you were chasing, too fearful for your life in case you were close to cracking something open. But low and behold, with the newly named Daredevil to thank, Fisk was in prison, those involved in the money laundering schemes were arrested, and the dirty cops that had plagued the NYPD were out and gone for good.

You had decided to make a quick visit to Nelson and Murdock to thank and congratulate Foggy on his win. You appreciated the new signage and made your way into the building, knocking on their labeled door twice before entering, being greeted by the sight of a blonde woman at the desk in the center of the room. She stood up and smiled at you, “Hi there, welcome.”

You smiled in response, stating your name. “I’m looking for Foggy, is he here?”

You heard quick footsteps coming from behind the office door and Foggy burst through, his arms outstretched, a wide grin on his face. “I thought I recognized your voice.” He walked up to you and you hugged him in a greeting.

“It’s so good to see you now that everything had settled down.” You said, pulling away and giving him a friendly smile.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He then gestured towards the woman who had initially greeted you, “Please meet Karen, our lovely secretary here at Nelson and Murdock.” You shared your name and shook Karen’s outstretched hand, her energy exuding kindness and beauty.

“Pleasure to meet you. Would you like some coffee?” Karen offered.

“Oh, sure! Thanks.” You gratefully responded. You reached into your bag fishing for the item you brought as you directed your question towards Foggy, “I’ve never met ‘Murdock’, by the way. Is he in?”

“Yes, he is.” You heard a new voice come from the office on the left, a man in a grey suit, red glasses, and a white cane stood in the doorway to what you presumed was his office. He made his way over to the two of you, his hand outreached. “Matt Murdock. I wanted to apologize for my absence when helping you get out of that situation a few weeks ago.”

His hand was warm in yours, his voice was deep and inviting, and his smile was downright gorgeous. You immediately felt a strange pull towards him. You played it off as common attraction, which Matt seemed to emit naturally.

“I finally get to meet you after all this time. You were Foggy’s roommate in college, right?” You remembered briefly running into his lover as you were dropping off homework and notes for Foggy when he was out for a day. Definitely not your proudest moment. 

“Yeah, we got lucky with that, didn’t we, Fog?” Matt smirked in the direction of his friend, the two of them obviously the closest of friends. During this, you finally found the piece of paper in your bag just as Karen came back out with your coffee. “You seem like two creams, two sugars.” She said, guessing correctly. 

“Yeah, thanks.” You giggled, holding the piece of paper out to the three of them. “So, I never did pay you back for helping me out.” Foggy began to open his mouth to protest the check in your hand, but you insisted. “No, please, that was a really scary time you helped me through and you deserve the compensation for your work.” You then handed the check to Karen, who gasped when she saw the contents of it. 

Matt spoke up, “What does it say?”

Karen exclaimed, “Ten thousand dollars!” Everyone’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, and you just nodded and chuckled at their reactions. 

“I genuinely had so many savings in the bank and saw how much you guys love this city and how hard you’d work to make sure justice was served.” You’d explained, their faces still full of shock, “Not many firms can say the same.”

Foggy shook his head, “But why so much for about two hours of work?”

“Well, if it’s too much for your services, then think of me as your investor!” You took a look around, taking a quick sip from your coffee, noticing the simple state of the office space. “No offense, but maybe it could help this place feel like an actual attorney’s office?”

Josie’s was not too packed for a Friday night, and when Foggy had reached out inviting you to drinks with the rest of the firm, you accepted, hoping to drink away the loss of your soulmate. Not that anyone knew who your soulmate was. No, every time you saw Daredevil mentioned in your coworker’s piece for the week or his name splashed across the tv every other night on the news, you kept your misfortune to yourself.

It hurt. Being left there on the ground of the alley after the life-altering moment of seeing the world bloom with its bright hues. You couldn’t sleep that night and stayed up to watch the sunrise. You saw the sky blossom with purples, pinks, yellows, oranges, and blues. The sky was something you didn’t care to look at often unless it was to see if rain clouds were coming in. Now you craved the view of a crystal clear sky next to the vivid trees on the sidewalk.

With a glass of whiskey swirling in your hand, you zoned out from the different conversations at the table.  Karen was seated next to you, with Matt and Foggy opposite of you. You didn’t know how long you were silent for, pondering over just how shitty you felt when you felt a knee nudge against your leg from under the table. You looked up and caught Matt’s gaze directed towards you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses as usual. 

“Everything alright over there?” He had quietly asked, trying to not interrupt the animated conversation Foggy and Karen were having. You took a deep breath, trying to live a little more in the moment.

“Uh… yeah.” You muttered. 

“You sure? Anything on your mind you wanna talk about?” He offered. His red glasses reminded you of the blood on your soulmate’s fists. You felt a pang in your heart. 

“Maybe later.” You acquiesced. You threw back the rest of your drink and caught Matt's grimace from the corner of your eye. Your glass made a solid thud as it landed back on the table.

“Anyone wants another drink?” You asked.

You definitely needed another drink.

“And so, Matt and I walk into the conference room, most of the interns are in there already because someone’s alarm wasn’t set.” Foggy accused pointedly at his friend.

“Typical Matt Murdock.” Karen chimed in.

Matt shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ way. 

“And in the rush, all of a sudden I noticed her pink blouse. Pink! Marci was sitting there, not even looking up at me while my whole world changed. Matt was so confused why I stopped walking, he asked if we were in the wrong room, and when she heard that and looked up…” Foggy’s gaze when thinking about the memory was so fond and lovestruck.

You and Karen shared an awed gaze, reveling in Foggy’s clear emotion.

“I remember her gasp and that look in her beautiful eyes… well, the rest is history. We did have a few bumps in the road, but we eventually made it out the other end together.”

“Yeah, you did.” Matt agreed.

"Still can’t believe I got so lucky.” Foggy laughed in disbelief.

“That was a beautiful way to meet your soulmate.” You complimented. You were happy for your friend, but your voice was a little slur, the liquor you had throughout the night building armor around your heart which was useful since you were hearing someone’s normal experience when meeting their soulmate.

Karen sighed, her shoulders slumping a little in disappointment, swirling around the beer in her bottle, “You’re the only one out of all of us Fog, we’ll live through you for now.”

“He’s not the only one-“ You blurted.

You weren’t supposed to say that.

Whoops.

You felt everyone’s eyes turn towards you, their wide-eyed stares ranging from shock and excitement to confusion.

“Why haven’t you told us, what-?” Karen exclaimed.

“Oh my god, when did this happen?” Matt asked.

“And this important fact wasn’t mentioned?” Foggy complained.

“Woah, woah guys.” You shook your head, their questions hitting you quickly, but being drunk did a horrible job of keeping a lid on your information. “I didn’t tell you guys- well, I haven’t told anyone actually- because my soulmate rejected me.” You said factually, trying to not let the emotion slip in, but failing.

Your friends deflated, Karen then taking the lead. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so hurt.”

“Well, it was a few weeks ago and I’m genuinely considering the theory that maybe I wasn’t rejected.” You felt tears well up in your eyes. "Maybe something is wrong with me and I wasn’t his soulmate. Maybe I’m nobody’s soulmate.”

You felt Matt’s hand touch yours on the table, a sympathetic expression directed toward you. Karen also rubbed your arm in comfort. Your grin was sad and pitiful.

“Who is the guy? Have you tried contacting him again or something?” Foggy piped up, his genuine need to help others so clear at that moment.

You shook your head, a delirious, helpless laugh coming out of you, “I can’t contact him, it’s impossible.”

“We can help. Just give us a name and we can get to the bottom of this.” Matt encouraged you.

You felt insane with your next words. “Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.”

Everyone froze again, but for some reason, the air felt incredibly tense. Matt and Karen’s comforting gestures stiffened, and Foggy’s eyes wandered quickly around the table, something akin to fear and shock in his eyes. You took the sudden silence for agreement.

“See, told you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen left me on the floor of an alley after he saw me.” You felt a small sob bubble up in your throat, “My life in an instant had finally changed for the better, and he didn’t even give a hint that his had changed as well.” You dropped your head into your hands, trying to shake the sadness out of you.

“I’m so sorry to bring the mood down, guys. Forget I said anything, please. I don’t wanna think about this anymore.” You pushed out of your chair with a screech and began to go to the restroom, not looking up to see their faces. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered.

Once you closed the door behind you, you felt the tears quickly coming back, the embarrassment of your story hitting you. You felt their stares and knew that Nelson, Murdock, and Page were a supportive group of people but you couldn’t tell if they believed you or not. Their reactions to your soulmate’s identity were confusing and hard to decipher, but the pain and helplessness of your situation came back in full swing once you finally let it out and told them. It felt freeing yet shameful simultaneously and the mix of emotions threw you for a whirlwind.

You quickly splashed some water from the sink onto your face, washing away the tear tracks, and rolled your shoulders back, hoping to walk out ready to end the night on a high note. Giving yourself one more look over, you walked back out to the busy bar, watching your three friends speaking very animatedly to each other, Karen and Foggy seeming like they were talking to Matt while he was just sitting there looking a little dumbfounded. Probably something that happened while you were gone.

You pulled back up to your seat, smiling at the group, “So, what did I miss?” You looked over their faces, silence filling the space once more. Matt’s face had lost a significant amount of color. “And why do you look like you’re gonna faint, Murdock?” Matt barely opened his mouth when he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s fine. Karen and I were talking about the dreadful upcoming election…” Foggy interjected.

And the conversation about your soulmate was forgotten.

Or so you thought.

He had left them there.

He had found his soulmate and he was too distracted to even notice.

‘Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.’

He was in too much of a shock when you said those words. He froze. He could barely think. And his friends didn’t know what to say either. The minute you had gotten up to head to the bathroom, they bombarded him.

“Matt, what the fuck-?” Karen started.

“How did you not know?” Foggy was baffled.

“-How could you leave them in an alley?” Karen was pissed.

“I could’ve sworn you both had met in college. How did they meet Daredevil before Matt Murdock?” Foggy’s harsh whisper-yell filled Matt with a confusing sense of shame.

“I don’t think we ever had the chance, I-” The guilt began to eat him alive. “I was following a lead on the Russians and heard two of their assailants attacking so I saved them but I couldn’t hang around.”

“Matt, they think their soulmate doesn’t want them. Hell, you now know you have one!” Karen exclaimed, trying to find a solution to this seemingly huge problem. “I don’t want to tell you what to do since it’s your identity on the line, but you should tell them.”

“Dude, she was heartbroken,” Foggy added, not quite forgetting just how messed up you looked like you felt.

“I didn’t notice in that alley…” Matt muttered in disbelief but suddenly remembered your words from that night.

‘It’s you.’

You had tried to tell him. It was quick and easily a misunderstanding, but he didn’t sense how devastated you were when he was leaving. And you of course didn’t know that Daredevil was actually blind and couldn’t see so you mistook his lack of reaction for both of the worst-case scenarios possible.

God, how could Matt ever reject you when you’re what he’s been waiting for his whole life?

He had given up hope for years, settled for less, and pushed relationships away through self-sabotage because nothing ever felt quite right. It was really just his luck that he’d met you in the way he did, in a way that would mess up everything.

You returned to the group, your heart beating steadily in your chest, and in an overwhelming realization, the sound became the most important thing to him. Your voice was a treasure, and your scent was cherished, your presence was all-consuming. In an instant, it was like all of his senses were attuned to you, and Matt didn’t know what to do about it but run.

Quickly finding his voice, he interrupted, “I’m gonna head home for the night guys.” Gathering his coat and briefcase in his arms, he then turned to you.

“I’ll see you again next week?” He carefully questioned. He heard your heart skip at the question, pleased that it seemed something about you was tuned to him as well.

“Yeah… for sure, yeah.” You nodded, your breath hitching when you realized he was speaking to you specifically. You wished you could see his eyes from behind his glasses because something was telling you that his gaze was deeper than it had been. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

He grinned with tight lips and took a breath to say something, but stopped himself, shaking his head and going for a simple, “Good night.” Matt walked out of the bar, leaving you echoing the sentiment as you wondered why Foggy and Karen were giving you strange looks and why Matt had suddenly left you craving more of him than ever before.

‘Next week’ came two nights later in the form of a visitor you weren’t expecting.

Even with the streets of Hell’s Kitchen feeling safer than they did before, your hand was in your bag, keeping firm contact around your taser. You made it around the corner of your block, the flickering street lamps unsettling you, when a clang from above frightened you.

Quickly looking up, you saw a shadowed figure on the fire escape above, your stomach dropping to the floor, fear flooding your system. A scream began to bubble out of your throat when the figure leaped from the platform, but it was quickly paused when you caught sight of the short horns, the deep maroon of the suit recognizable. You flinched and took a few steps back, startled by the sight of your soulmate and confused why he was there in front of you.

“What do you want?” Your words were cold and questioning, the weeks of pent-up pain and betrayal fueling the anger behind your question. Daredevil flinched at the sound, his voice gruff as he spoke.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” He requested. Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, and your anger almost made you refuse him immediately. But you couldn’t deny the need to hear what he had to say, to understand why he didn’t want you even if the answers hurt you.

“My apartment is a few buildings down. You’re welcome to come up, but I don’t think there’s a way my neighbors won’t see you.” You offered nervously, wringing your hands together after a sudden bout of anxiety. Daredevil gently nodded.

“They won’t see me.” He responded softly, moving into the alley nearby.

“But it’s this way-” You gestured to your right, confused.

“I’ll be there.” He assured, slipping into the darkness.

You stood there for a few moments, dumbfounded, but made your way to your building, trying to tame the anticipation building in your heart. Once you locked your apartment door, you set your bag down and walked further into the living space, waiting for the sign of your soulmate’s arrival. 

A few knocks on the window to your left made you jump, the figure on the fire escape giving a small wave. You walked over, unlocking and opening the window. 

“So that’s what you meant, huh?” You teased as you backed away, and the absurdity of the moment made you laugh with a hint of shock, especially when you took in the sight of The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen standing next to your couch. He chuckled as he closed the window, the sound pleasing to your ears. But you sobered up very quickly, clearing your throat and settling on the couch, taking the initiative, “What do you want to say?”

He took a deep breath, his body language a little shy, and nodded, “Well, I’d like to explain myself… and tell you how sorry I am for what I must’ve put you through-”

“Why?” You interrupted.

He stood bewildered “Why am I sorry-?” 

“No, why did you leave me there?” You stood, the built-up frustration flowing out, “Did you not want me? Are you already with someone else?” Your voice quivered a bit, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

He whispered your name and shook his head, taking a few steps closer.

“Why did you act like nothing happened, like it wasn’t the best moment of your life-?” 

“I didn’t know!” He exclaimed, his hands reaching out helplessly.

You froze. “What?” 

“I didn’t know… I couldn’t have.” He explained as he stepped closer, and you couldn’t help but let him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused as ever.

“I… I’m…” He stuttered as he struggled with his next decision.

“You’re what?” You implored, not quite expecting what came next.

He ripped his mask off, and suddenly you were staring into Matt Murdock’s eyes for the first time, his gaze landing around your shoulder. His breathing was heavy and yours felt stuck in your throat.

“Oh.” You muttered, your knees feeling a little weak at the onslaught of information that you just absorbed. You took your seat on the couch once more, not trusting your legs to hold you up. 

Matt stood still as his eyes begged for understanding, “Please tell me you’ve realized why I didn’t treat you like you deserved.” He spoke quietly, slowly walking to where you sat, kneeling on the floor by you, “If I had known, I would’ve gotten down on my knees and thanked God for your existence…”

The tears in your eyes overflowed at the sight of your soulmate in front of you. He gently rested his hands on the sides of your knees and reverently placed his lips against them, next reaching for your trembling hands to hold them in his own.

“I would’ve kissed your hands, and asked for your name…” He continued, and you noticed the shine in his eyes, your hand squeezing his in return, as his gaze pleaded for mercy, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He whimpered guiltily.

“Matt…” You whispered as your palm laid on his stubbled cheek, “I understand.” It all made sense now, and you felt the anger and hurt slowly leave your soul. You comfortingly kissed his temple and rested your foreheads together, a small smile gracing your face. “I forgive you.”

His lips quivered in relief, your cheek being caressed by the back of his hand. “I don’t deserve you.” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his head bowing down before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his ear to your chest, the beating of your heart sounding so sweet from that close. Your hands felt for his shoulders as you embraced him, pressing another kiss to the top of his head, reaching to run your fingers through his mussed-up hair.

Matt shuddered at the feeling of your hands on his back and craved more, pulling away and leaning closer to you, his digits running over your lips, “May I?” He hoarsely whispered.

He felt you nod, your voice breathless as you pleaded, “Please.” 

And his mouth met yours, your lips curiously getting acquainted with each other. Your sharp intake of breath at the sensation of the kiss encouraged Matt to lead with all the passion he felt. You leaned further into him, taking and giving as the sensations almost overwhelmed the both of you. Nothing had ever felt this right in your life.

He slowly raised over you, adjusting both of your bodies lengthwise om the couch, your hands running over the hard planes of the suit, his lips still connected with yours, a certain heat expressed in his movements. You pulled away, panting, running your fingers over Matt’s face, admiring him.

“You’re so beautiful,” You softly spoke as your breath mingled with puffs of air, your nose nudging into his, and your eyes closed as he guided his lips over your features, worshipping every part of you. You wrapped your arms around his figure, shuddering when his hips pressed into yours, his stubble rasping against your neck. “And we should take this slow.”

He took your suggestion literally, slowing his intent kisses, pulling himself up to his hands, “Would you like to stop?” He asked with concern, his eyes still glazed with an emotion you knew you matched.

You nodded. “Yes, please.” He began to sit up, but you grabbed his hand before he could fully get off the couch, “I don’t want you to leave.”

A soft smile graced his features, the fond look directed towards you causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. He squeezed your hand in return, “Would you like me to stay?”

“I would love for you to stay the night…” You lowered your head in mild embarrassment, “I’m not ready to let you go yet.” You admitted.

He shook his head in agreement. “Where’s your bathroom so I can get out of this?” He gestured to his suit, and you giggled as you pointed to the far end of the room.

“It’s over there.” You told him, and he began walking, awe filling your brain as you tried to wrap your head around how he did what he could. “How do you do… everything you do?” You struggled with how to explain his nightly duties.

“Well, for one, I wasn’t born blind.” He started, not closing the door or turning on the light in the bathroom as he began to strip the suit off. “I lost my sight when I was eight in an accident where chemicals spilled into my eyes. My senses became incredibly heightened and I was trained by someone like me to hone in on them and use them to fight.” He explained his past and his abilities and you tried your best to not to stare at his bare chest through the dimly lit space, his chest piece off and on the ground.

“Your senses? Like, echolocation?” You questioned as you moved into your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes yourself.

“Well, yes, but it’s not just my hearing that’s amplified, it’s everything else as well.” Matt’s voice sounded closer to bedroom, and you froze at his words.

“Everything else?” You nervously inquired, pausing at your drawer as you looked for a shirt that could fit Matt.

“You had sushi earlier today from that shop down the street. You’ve got eggs, leftover rice, garlic, and an onion in your fridge.” He took a few steps closer to your bedroom. “I can hear your neighbors on the first floor watching Jeopardy. And your heart is pounding.” You could hear the smirk in his words, and turned around to see him clad in only black compression shorts, feeling your heart race some more.

Matt moved his way closer into the room, continuing his list of things, “I can tell your shampoo has tea tree oil and the scent of it is fresh in your hair, so I’m assuming you washed your hair either this morning or last night.”

“Last night,” You confirmed, your eyes wide at the impressiveness of the information he was providing you with, your voice stuttering nervously, “S-so you really can sense everything, huh?”

He nodded with a cocky smile, pausing a few feet away from you. God, he looks glorious, you thought.

“Does that make you nervous, sweetheart?” He teased.

“No!” You lied, feeling so nervous with your really attractive soulmate just a few steps away from you calling you such a sweet name.

“Are you sure?” He asked, closing the space in between the two of you, your change of clothes and the shirt you found for him bundled up close to your chest. “I can also sense when people aren’t telling the truth, you know.” 

You anxiously giggled, shoving the shirt into his hands, walking around him and heading towards the bathroom to change for the night, “Uh… do Foggy and Karen know about your nightly duties?” You diverted, hoping to change the subject away from you.

Matt nodded, “Yeah… they didn’t find out in the best way” You detected disappointment and regret in his tone. “They don’t want me to be out there every night.” He admitted. 

“Because you get hurt?” You assumed, walking back into the living space where he was now clad in a shirt, waiting for you.

“I did… I do,” He looked down, guilt overshadowing his next words, “And I will get hurt. This isn’t something I can just stop-”

“Matt-” You interrupted him, sensing where he was going with this, and you walked up to him, resting your hand on his arm, “Is that what you want? To stop?”

He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “No. I don’t. I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You said it like it was the simplest of solutions, and Matt was shocked by your generally calm and accepting reaction to his second life, “You’ve made a difference in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. You’ve saved me amongst countless others when the law failed to.” You explained, finally able to express your gratitude for his selfless heroics. It became clear to you at that moment just how good of a person your soulmate was. Not only did he spend his days helping people without payment, using his knowledge of the law, but he also spent his nights saving those who were tormented by the evil that worked in the darkness.

You had always known that you would love your soulmate, but Matt was genuinely someone you could love not only because of who he was, but for the kind of person he was.

How did I get so lucky?

You looked down, continuing, “I don’t want to pretend like I won’t be nervous and worry about you when you’re out there, but please don’t feel like you have to change who you are. I want to be a safe place for you to be who you have to be.”

Matt simply wrapped his arms around you in response, trying to convey his appreciation for you with his tight, secure embrace. He sighed once more, tension leaving his body slowly as you ran your hands up and down his back.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He mumbled, but you quietly shushed him and place a small kiss on his cheek, grabbing his hands to lead him to bed. Once you were both settled, he nuzzled into your neck, the front of his body pressed against yours, your legs entwined.

You were silent for a few minutes when Matt interrupted the quiet, “I’m shocked you didn’t know the Russians were after you.”

You gasped in faux offense, “Woah, I was close to the heroin production sites and the script on the packets was in Mandarin! How was I supposed to know the Russian Mafia was connected?” Matt’s huffs of laughter warmed your heart, the feeling of cuddling with someone you were meant to care about filling you with happiness.

“I dunno, maybe Daredevil has to help this journalist once in a while to help connect the dots.” He jokingly suggested, rubbing his hands up your arms, his voice gruff with the late night.

You giggled, “I’ll take all the help I can get.” You closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to overcome you.

“What are we gonna tell people when they ask how we met?” You asked, every bone in your body relishing how calm and content you finally felt.

Matt’s breath was warm against your ear when he sleepily replied. “We have the rest of our lives to figure that out.”

fin

#Matt Murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #gn!reader #angst #oneshot #angst with a hopeful ending #angst with happy ending #happy ending #misunderstanding #daredevil

[spideyanakin]

Jokes on you

Peter Parker x Reader B99 Au

Au where MCU lives in the same universe as the 99

Synopsis - Jake is the only cop who’s ever managed to capture Spider-man.

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Peter Parker Masterlist 🌻

Peter landed on your fire escape with an inaudible thud, hand gripping the worn-out metal bar to reach for your window. Before his fist could collide with the glass, he noticed the rainbow maker sticker he had bought for you at the MOMA's gift shop on your last school field trip.

He noticed only after spotting the trinket, that you were nowhere to be seen. He could see the mess on your desk, mountains of papers and colored pencils littered the space. The small blue desk light was on, shining across the squiggles on your paper. Peter couldn't see what it was about but he was ready to bet on his superpowers that you were trying to work a case. Either one Peter had told you about or one that had recently caught your attention on the news.

Or maybe even better--a case you had found this afternoon on your internship.

There you were. Peter's sense caught up with your light footsteps towards your bedroom door. Your hand catching the silver handle of your wooden before swinging it open.

Your face lit up when you saw Peter waiting at your window. You jumped on your feet, socked feet bouncing on the blue carpet as you made the few steps toward him.

Your fingers hooked with the handled of your window before pushing it open.

"How long have you been waiting here?" You greeted, soft smile dancing on your lips at his sight.

"A few minutes, barely," Peter swiftly slid into your room, removing his mask and throwing it on your bed before turning back to you.

You took him in, biting your lip. His hair was messy from his spider-man mask, his eyes bright as he stared back at you. He looked happy and you couldn't help but copy his contagious smile.

"That's good," you blurted out, lost in trying to figure out what made him so happy--but he was always happy, it was Peter.

“How was your internship?” He jumped a bit on his heels, pointing to the brand-new NYPD jacket you forgot you were still wearing.

“Fun, actually.” You chuckled. “I got to help fight crime today, a bit like you, I guess," you joked. "I'm assisting a detective, we're working on a case, it's pretty cool."

"Explains this?" He walked towards your desk to get a better look at what had previously caught his attention. You had drawn over a map of New York with different colors and shapes--scribbles only you knew the answers to.

"No, that's a whole different thing," you chuckled, meeting Peter by your desk and leaning closer to him.

“How was your "internship"?” You tilted your head to get a closer look at him. The air quotes getting a small laugh out of him. "Anything on that case you were telling me about?"

“Nope, nothing," he shrugged his shoulders. "Not much but the usual. Stolen bike, helping an old woman cross the road, always that same guy trying to steal a redbull from Delmar's. "

"Every day!"

"Every day! You'd thought he get the hint by now. Delmar threatened to call the police today though."

"As he should."

"Talking about the police, did you know that every cop in the state of New York is trying to catch you? They have this giant bet on which precinct will catch you first. It’s pretty funny actually," you laughed to yourself, thinking back on today's briefing when they taught you all about it. Jake had even shown you his folder with a collection of every single little detail he had collected, including old police reports from other precincts about failed attempts to catch him, to witness interviews.

“Oh well, I'm impossible to catch, darling,” Peter gave you his best grin.

"Confident much?"

"Always," he kissed your cheek.

“Well, be careful. They all think you’re the bad guy," you fixed a few strands of hair on his forehead.

“I always am, princess.” 

"So tell me, what's up with that guy you were telling me about. Because I think they have a similar case going on at the precinct.”

“Well, the guy I'm currently searching for is called Todd Willis. Known for selling drugs around Queens and Brooklyn, but now we think he’s selling Alien substances. Alien drug if you want. Tony asked me to keep an eye on him until they know more. What did you hear today?"

"I don't think that's the same guy, but one of the detectives was going on about how this guy was found with an ungodly amount of drugs and wouldn't tell them who he bought it from."

"Well, please tell me if you have anything on Todd Willis. I think it's bothering Tony more than he's letting on. Be nice to have some more clues."

"Promise."

- 

The next morning you got dressed in the NYPD uniform the nine-nine gave you, stuffing your name badge in your bag before scurrying off to grab breakfast at your closest Starbucks. You never went to Starbucks but you were in a rush and you forgot where you had placed your go-cup. Only when you were waiting for your coffee did you realize Peter had borrowed it two weeks ago and never gave it back.

You basically flew down the steps of the subway, thanking whatever gods were with you that morning because the train was just arriving as you swiped your card.

You finally allowed yourself to breathe correctly once you were sat on the uncomfortable blue bench and the silver doors closed, the train harshly starting again, and leaving behind the platform, heading in a straight line towards your destination.

You checked your watch before taking a new comforting sip of your drink, warm and sweet and everything you felt like you needed to survive today. Your shoulders slacked when you realized you had managed to catch up with the lost minutes, you were going to arrive right on time.

You decided to take your one-month mandatory work experience/ internship Midtown High required, with the NYPD. Unfortunately, you made your decision a little late, so the nine-nine was the only district available. It was a little far from your home, but at least it was still on the same side of the river. A few subway stops weren't going to scare you away.

You didn't mind as much as you thought you would. You loved Brooklyn, and the nine-nine had been much more welcoming than you'd imagine. In the little hours you had already spent with them, they had broken every stereotype that you built about working at a precinct. The images you had made yourself about the calm, serious, and strict detectives were quickly replaced by the chaotic staff that had greeted you days before.

“Morning intern!” Jake bounced on his chair as he saw you walk in.

“She’s not your personal intern, you know,” Amy raised an eyebrow, looking up from her computer as she took a new sip of her coffee.

“She’s technically Captain Holt’s intern,” Rosa entered the conversation, her sharp eyes keeping their focus on her screen. 

“Yeah, but he assigned her to work with me,” he pointed his finger at you and back to him. 

“Two days ago! She worked with me yesterday,” Amy raised her hands, almost offended by Jake’s comment.

“No, she didn’t! She worked with the two of us!”

“That’s because you wouldn’t leave us and forced Captain Holt to put you on the case,” she looked at him with the whites of her eyes.

“Alright, alright. But I’m sure we’re going to work together again.” Jake pointed the pink eraser of his pencil at you and winked. 

You bit your lip, trying to not laugh. 

“Morning Precinct," Captain Holt walked out of his office, head down on a pile of papers in his hands. "I have a new case for you Peralta,” he lifted his gaze to meet Jake's bright eyes. He walked the few steps to his desk, blue sneakers squeaking on the clean white floor before dropping everything that was in his hands on the messy desk, in between the scattered cups of coffee and the old-looking banana peel Jake promised had only been there two days. “So you can let Amy and her intern work on their case,” he nodded, "and clean your desk Peralta" he added, raising a disgusted eyebrow as he scanned the wooden surface. He looked back at Jake before turning on his heels, making large steps back towards his office.

“HA! My intern-” Captain Holt, turned around, and raised an eyebrow for the second time that morning, Amy gave him a small, apologetic smile before awkwardly turning back to you.

You took this as your cue to grab a chair and sit at Amy's desk.

Jake smirked at Amy's awkward interaction before looking down at the files Holt had dropped on his desk. He eyed the white paper who was staring back at him as if this was the greatest puzzle in history.

“Todd Willis?" He blinked, trying to reread the words as if there had been some kind of mistake, hoping he wasn't losing his mind. "Didn’t we close his case a while ago?" Jake turned to Holt who was still standing at the border between the room and the safe heven that was his office.

"Yes, but it was just reopened. He’s been apparently selling some... new, stronger drug.” 

Your face fell when you heard the name. Peter was going after that guy too. Was he that dangerous that he had also caught the eye of the police?

You'd figure Jake was going to ramble about him as he worked the case, maybe you could remember some information and tell everything to Peter. Help him beat the nine-nine and crack the case before they did.

But wait. What if you cracked the case before Peter?

You loved Peter with everything in you but he was always smug about his Spider-man powers making him more useful than any detective around town.

What if you helped Jake and the nine-nine break the case before your boyfriend? Now that would be fun. 

“Captain?” You politely raised your voice, making Holt's attention drift to you. He nodded, expectantly looking at you--you took it as your cue, “may I work with Jake on the case? I was fascinated by this case when it was ongoing,” you gave him your best smile, hoping he would let you in on.

The challenge of helping the nine-nine beat Peter was way too thrilling. A race you were ready to win. A way to grab on to feeling like a super hero in your own way.

Holt raised his eyebrows, taking a second to process your request. Jake was talented but he was the personification of ADHD and could be a pain to work with. Holt truly thought that you had experienced that firsthand the other day. Nevertheless, he saw your attitude towards the Todd Willis case and knew that if you had indeed been fascinated with it, then you might indeed be some great help to his craziest recruit.

“I don’t see why not. Y/n you can work with Peralta on the case. Sorry Santiago, you can partner up with Boyle," he nodded before finally disappearing back into his office.

Amy’s mouth fell open, and Jake abruptly stood up, making a happy dance around his table.

"I'm sorry?" You offered Amy who looked at you with betrayal written all over her features. You stood up and moved your chair to sit next to Peralta.

“She’s my intern now! In ya face! Suckers!” 

“So, what you got so far?” You grounded Jake back to reality. He smiled before sitting in his chair, dramatically straightening his back and licking his finger to better flip the first page, ready to reveal all the information laid out on the files before him.

“Let’s see…”

-

Four hours had passed since you and Jake started working, your help being way more precious than he ever thought it would be. You had relocated to one of the workrooms. A large pinboard on the wall with the potential clues and locations. A table was in the middle of the room, with just even more papers splayed across it; an Agatha Christie book you thought held a potential clue, a random yellow kitchen glove neatly placed in a ziplock that had been found on a goose chase to catch Todd. You hadn't been allowed to pull it out of the bag, but you thought having it around might still be important.

The last blueberry muffin of a box Terry had kindly given you after your first hour of research stood proudly in between the mess you had created, and empty glasses previously holding peach syrup sat on the edges.

You looked at the map pinned to the wall.

“We're missing a step. It’s impossible he carried the drugs from LA to here without anyone noticing," Jake's fingers danced across the map, stopping on the picture of the drug cargo that you had pinned to the Hudson River hours prior. "He must have a base somewhere in New York,” he continued.

You sighed. You knew you needed some information that you could only get in the field, and it bothered you that you couldn't be as free and sneaky as Spider-man. You understood why Peter and the avengers cracked cases so fast and easily. They were able to get information fast and spying came easy. For the police, going on the field meant a whole lot of equipment and prep. They had to be sure, use the clues they already had before they could act on their suspicions.

Your familiar ringtone broke you out of your thoughts.

Of course, it was Peter. As if he knew you were thinking about him. “It’s my boyfriend. Can I take that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shook his hand as if to show you it was more than ok, "we should take a break anyways."

You nodded before exiting the room and making a beeline to the terrace where the staff would take their private calls or the occasional cigarette.

“Hey babe,” you smiled over the phone. 

“Hi” 

“What's up?” 

“Nothing much,” he chuckled over the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice, see how work was going. I got some more info on Todd, Im about to leave the compound."

"Oh neat," you bit your lip. That easy to get information out of Peter?

"I discovered he has a base in Brooklyn,” Peter replied making the last part of his sentence a little mysterious.

“Brooklyn?” Your eyes lit up. “Where in Brooklyn?”

“Clinton Hill, Myrtle av. Plus it’s not far from you." You could hear some shuffling and a door closing behind him. The familiar sound of webs and suddenly, a lot of wind over the phone. "Why?” his voice came out as muffled.

"Peter, are you calling and swinging again?"

"Maybe?" You could barely hear him, making you huff.

"Peter-- we talked about this, please be careful. Call me back after your mission, kay?"

“Yep. That works, bye, love you.”

“Love you too," you hung up, and pocketed your phone. "Unbelievable," you shook your head in disbelief. After the number of times, Peter almost crashed into a building by being on the phone with you or Ned or even Tony--and he had to do it again.

You sighed before walking back into the building, at least he gave you a lead. A very good lead.

“Jake, I think I got something,” you approached the table, eyes dancing across the accumulation of papers before you found your pick. It was a small yellow Post-it note with Jake's sloppy handwriting; ‘Moaning M Ry 2' written in blue ink. You and Jake had spent the whole afternoon wondering what it meant, and your conversation with Peter had struck the answer right out of you.

“Are there any streets around Myrtle av that starts with Ry?” 

“I don’t know so let me check,” Jake turned from the pinboard to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he searched the map of Brooklyn.

“Yeah, Ryerson St. Why?”

“Well is there an N2 to this street?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you check the building?”

Jake fidgeted with the keys of his computer before getting the picture of an old grey building.

“Hey! We searched the building ages ago!” Jake pointed to it. “It’s totally possible their base is here!” He approached the board. “Hey this actually makes a lot of makes. But how did you-” he pointed, shock evident in his eyes.

“Well, these guys aren’t the only Harry Potter fans out there,” a small smirk rose on your lips as you handed the paper to Jake. He looked at you with quizzical eyes and then down to the note in his hand. 

“Oh my god!" His eyes grew wide as he read his lopsided letters "Moaning M is Moaning Myrtle I'm so dumb! Harry Potter is just the best right?” He gave you a bright smile.

“Yeah!” You chuckled. “I think you should get a team there as quickly as possible, you don’t know what their next move will be.” You added, wanting more than ever to win this one-way race with your boyfriend.

“Yes. And thank you for your help… Detective.”

- 

You sighed, watching the bottom of your coffee cup, fingers mindlessly tapping on the wooden surface of Jake's desk--while Gina talked about some random life facts about her, instead of giving you the lists of tasks that Captain Holt had asked her to hand you about an hour ago.

"Any news of Jake and Amy?" you turned to Terry who jumped at your voice, quickly closing the flappy golf page--fear of getting caught playing a video game by an intern during work hours quickly rising in his chest.

In all truths, he was bored. While Amy, Jake, and Boyle had run off to the location you had found, he had to work on what was probably the most boring case Holt had assigned him to this year.

He checked his phone, sighing when there was no message, simply his daughters' faces and big bright white numbers staring back.

"No," you melted a little more in your chair at his words.

You wished that you could have gone with them, but security was what mattered most, and of course, interns were not allowed on fieldwork.

You had no news of Peter either, making you think this had actually been a really good lead, and they were all busy trying to figure out what the heck was in this abandoned building.

In the meantime, Jake parked the disguise van and started his lookout. The big grey building sat quiet, as of yet no signs of life revealed to them. Everything was quiet until a light thump rang through the van. 

“What was that,” Amy grabbed the nearest car handle, whispering in panic. 

“Oh my god, I bet it’s Spider-man!” Jake whispered back like a fan girl whose celebrity crush had just breathed the same air. 

“You really think Spider-man is on top of our van?“ Amy tilted her head thinking his idea was absurd.

"That would be amazing,” Boyle said over the intercom. Until now he stayed quiet in the back area of the van accompanied by all the spying equipment. 

“You think we should try and catch him?” Jake whispered even lower. 

“How do you want us to catc-” Amy raised her voice, attempting to speak normally but Jake slapped his hand on her mouth. 

“Shhh. He has special hearing,” Jake whispered as low as he possibly could.

“How do you even know that?” Amy asked, trying her best to match Jake's whispers.

“I have a plan,” Jake carefully looked at Amy. “Alright, Boyle, can you look at the van’s door camera.”

“On it,” Boyle excitedly pressed on the camera buttons. 

“Alright, if he gets down, hit him with a tranquilizer, and quickly grab him. Put him in the van and come in the front with us. Make sure you double-lock the door. Make sure you do it quickly.”

“Why so quick if he’s tranquilized?” Amy didn't see the logic.

“Don’t you know anything about him!? He heals super fast which means we have like two minutes until he wakes up and gets back on his feet,” Jake huffed as if this was common knowledge, almost offended that Amy knew nothing.

“How do you know so much?” Amy whispered scream. 

“He’s like my favorite hero!”

“Yeah, Amy. He’s like Jake’s favorite hero," Boyle added through the intercom.

“And every cop knows that the sixty-seven tried to but he woke up before they could get him,” Jake added like it was obvious. 

And as if on cue, Spider-Man jumped down the van he thought was empty and slowly walked towards the building, careful not to make any startling noise for the potential bad guys who took cover inside.

"JAKE JAKE!" Boyle whispered and screamed as he saw the red silhouette appear on his computer. "He's there!"

Jake let out an excited squeak, and Boyle grabbed the tranquilizer gun that was stored on the side of the computer desk. Boyle took a breath before opening the door in a flash, perfectly shooting a tranquilizer right into Spider-man.

"Jake! Amy!" Boyle screamed and Amy and Jake rushed out of the van--making Jake scream when he saw his hero laying face flat on the floor.

"Oh my god, this is the best day of my life!" He jumped like a kid high on sugar. "Amy we caught Spider-man! We caught Spider-man!"

Amy stared at him in shock, trying to register what was even happening. She blinked when Jake and Boyle high-fived.

"Well, what are you waiting for get him in the van!"

- 

You were washing your hands in the bathroom when Jake and Boyle came back in the precinct in a hurry. Jake's hair looked at mess and his eyes were as big as they could possibly get over the excitement,

“Guys, guys! we caught Spider-Man!” 

“You caught The Spider-Man? You sure this isn’t just some guy in a costume?” Holt fixed his glasses, giving skeptical eyes to Jake.

“Hundred percent sure, Sir. No look five!” Jack blindly threw his right hand behind him, just to collide with Boyle's hand who took the cue faster than his mind could comprehend.

“Is it that guy dressed as Spider-man that lives in your building again?” Rosa interrupted. 

“Rosa, if the real Spider-man lived in my building I would have a tattoo on my forehead that says ‘Spider-man lives in my building’” Jake pointed to his forehead and chuckled. 

A small silence fell in the room, Captain Holt crossed his arms, eyes boring into Jake's as he tried to pull answers. 

“We should still check, I really want to know if I should add the 15th bar to my ‘Jake caught a random guy dressed as Spider-man’ board.” Rosa stood up from her chair. 

The whole of the team didn't bother with the thought of Jake's latest potential find, making only Captain Holt, Terry, and Rosa who came only for mere entertainment purposes, followed the team of three to the parking lot where the van had been parked.

"Brace yourselves!" Jake fed into the suspense, slowly placing his hands around the handles before ripping the door open "Ta Da-"

Before the five cops that stood around the van could register, the one and only hero flew out of the confined place, throwing as many webs as he possibly could in an attempt to escape the clutches of the police. Captain Holt was thrown to the floor as a web hit his leg and glued him to the floor.

Without a word, and almost a sigh of total annoyance, Rosa grabbed the taser on her belt and hit Spider-man that was standing right in front of her with it. The poor hero fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Well, you were right. This is The Spider-Man. Now I would really appreciate it if you would get me out of these… Webs.”

“Soz, Sir don’t think I can. You have to wait two hours. Got caught in them once, good luck going to the bathroom Sir.” Jake sheepishly replied, his tone cheery. He bounced on his heels in excitement as he spotted Terry and Rosa already starting to pick up Spider-man.

-

“Thought he would be heavier,” Terry said as he slowly draped the unconscious hero on the chair of the interrogation room.

“Y/n!” Jake called out, out of breath from sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey, how was the mission?”

“It is what we thought it was but that’s not important! Come!” Jake waved his hands for you to come, you raised an eyebrow watching him grab his guitar before making you follow him down to the interrogation rooms. 

“Bab–aaspider Man?” Your eyes went wide. You saw Peter, still fully dressed in his Spider-man suit, face down on the table-- cuffed hands twitching as he was slowly starting to wake up.

“Babpider man? I like that” Peralta added not realizing your almost mistake to call the hero in front of you, babe.

“I hate when you make up words Peralta,” Captain Holt deadpanned.

“We’re about to reveal who he truly is.” Jake bounced excitedly next to you. “Couldn’t let you miss it!” He turned to you, and your mind went through every possible way that you could stop this from happening--but no idea came to mind. “You guys ready?" Jake sat on the table. “I want to wake him up first.” Jake looked at you before unzipping the guitar bag, just to reveal and light brown guitar. You watched as he carefully placed it on his legs, clearing his throat.

“Oh boy,” Amy exclaimed before covering her ears, signing you to do the same.

“SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN!” Jakes screamed while doing notes on his guitar you were sure not to be the right notes to this song. "DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN!"

Spider-Man shot up, the eyes of his mask opening wide. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces, right until he saw yours. You gave him the most apologetic smile you possibly could, and you could see from the way the eyes of his suit twitched that he was silently asking for your help.

Jake got closer, hand reaching to peel his mask off.

“What but- You can’t just do that!” You tried.

“What do you mean? Its Spider-Man we’re talking about!” Jake almost whined, not understanding your reasoning. 

“But what if his identity remains a secret for a reason? Maybe he wants to stay quiet?”

“Hey hey hey, please don’t remove my mask sir.” Spider-Man shifted in his spot, attempting to move his hands but he was trapped.

“Oh C’mon! This is like my life’s dream. Relax a little, guys! Be cool,” Jake tried to ease the tension.

“But-” 

“You guys can be so stupid sometimes,” Gina lost her focus on her freshly manicured hands, ready to take the matter into her own hands. She planted herself right behind Spider-man before ripping his mask off in one swift motion--a moment straight out of a Scooby-Doo episode, you thought.

“Oh damn your pretty,” she exclaimed before examining his face. “Oh hey, Y/n it’s your boyfriend! Damn girl,” she looked at you and then back to Peter.

Your face burned in embarrassment as the whole of the precinct now stared at you. 

“You know him?" Terry pointed to Peter.

"Kind of?”

"Kind of?" Gina interrupted you. "Queen, you're literally together, kissing on your lock screen."

“Y/n’s boyfriend is Spider-Man,” Jake shrieked.

“Yeah?” You offered him.  

“Y/n’s. Boyfriend. Is. The. Real. Spider. Man,” he looked at everyone in the group. 

“You ok, Jake?” 

“Im cool. Everything is Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” 

Jake walked out of the room. Silence fell before a loud scream coming from the main room was heard.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” 

“He’s gonna be alright”

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[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona and the team travel again, and more and more interesting situations arise.

Hello!

I noticed that with all the upheavals in my life, I can safely upload approx. every two weeks, so I'll stick to that! :D

I don't have a separate Trigger Warning for today's chapter!

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. – Infected Mammal Lifeorm I.H.L. – Infected Humanoid Lifeorm

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Seventeen

......................................

The small room is enveloped in motionless semi-darkness, and only the flickering lights of the machines resting next to the bed paint the two figures clinging to each other on the patient's bed into a neon-colored rainbow. And although their faces now finally radiate peaceful calmness, as they rest in the whiteness of the sterile bedding, they look more like plants floating on the edge of death, intertwined with their dry branches as a last refuge. Yet, despite their almost painful weakness, the aura mixed with terror that reigned over them seems to be easing at last, which was ingrained in each of their cells like an ineradicable illness.

And as I look at the crumpled bed on the other side of the room, I can read from the wet stains on the pillow that the boy probably woke up from a bad dream and sought solace from the woman. It's not surprising that he chose close proximity instead of comfort, because, in the many horrors he has experienced so far, his older companion has been his protector. Perhaps she anchored him in reality now as well, when he floated, writhing in tears, on the border between the bitter images of the realm of dreams and this world. And a rather bitter taste invades my tongue when it occurs to me, that it cannot be ruled out that he will suffer in this temporary nightmare for the rest of his life. Stuck in the middle of painful memories and fleeting safety.

Because I'm dead sure that the government won't let two very young Healers, whom they can squeeze out a few more years of service from, go to waste. No leader will let them take early retirement, even if they die while serving the Hunters. This system isn’t kind to anyone, especially not to those who, according to the authorities, were born to serve. And even though it's better for everyone if a Hunter stays sane and doesn't slaughter everyone in their path if they run out of energy, it doesn't change the fact that, as per the current state of the world, there isn't even time for people to mourn their traumas.

And this thought weakens the contentment purring inside me, which I experienced last night with the help of my clever ability. Because my little action seems infinitely futile as I watch them. I treated all their wounds, and all traces of the pain they suffered disappeared from the tissues, but every minute they spent in the dark little hole where they were pushed into lives just as vividly in their minds. And neither my energy, nor that bastard's pitiable death, nor time will cure this. I doubt that any of them will ever recover, and I can only hope with the utmost benevolence that they lose their sanity and wither in a lab for the rest of their lives, high on medication. That would be the slowest but most merciful death that life could give them. 

I must be quite deeply immersed in my thoughts, because I only notice that a tall figure casts a dark shadow on me, when he settles next to me in front of the window of the small ward and joins me in my silent observations. I don't need to look at Riley to know the expression on his masked face, because the barely suppressed rage that emanates from him when he glances at the pair hiding in the small, dim room almost stings my skin. And my mind, buried in resignation, has the strength to feel pleasure for a minute at his agitation, for it soothes my soul in a sick way, that, despite the fact that his kind doesn't need to fear such horrors, I still see the glint of anger in the dark eyes of his reflection. This gives me some faint relief from the gnawing doubts that snake into my bones, which have burrowed deeper and deeper since yesterday with such insidious efficiency as worms feasting on corpses. Because I can't get rid of the image of the terrified faces of the two Healers, and in those few passing hours, when I was finally able to close my eyes, I saw myself in the dirty corner instead of them.

"What did Price say?" I speak up suddenly, diverting my thoughts to safer ground, because the further development of our mission seems a much more pleasant topic than discussing the future of the two poor souls shrouded in doubt, or reviving the damned delusions of my brain. And even though I don't look away from the seemingly peaceful scene unfolding before me, I can see him examining me inquisitively, as if he would be searching for something in my expressionless features. And he must have found it, because even though I can bury my emotions expertly, even my persona created for denial cannot hide from his trained senses.

"Laswell looked the thug up." He finally answers, and whatever was going on in that mysterious mind of his, he goes into the game of ignoring my strange behavior without comment. And I'm immensely grateful for the fact that he is able to turn to duty so quickly, because no matter how much my mind is occupied by the miserable fate of my two fellow colligues, our mission is more important. Now only my subconscious and I should be on the same page about this. "We're leavin' tomorrow." He informs me, stating a certain fact, and I just glance at him curiously from the corner of my eye. Laswell works faster than the devil, and it looks like she hasn't let us down now either. Even though we only had a name and a colony in our hands, which could have been too little to be able to move on with our pursuit. But our station chief's nose is much sharper, and she picked up a hot scent again at such a pace that belies the fact that she is just a simple human. And the knowledge that tomorrow I can finally leave this cesspool, and all this dreadful moment will be an unpleasant experience lost in the mist of the past, selfishly calms my mind. Because I don't want to face why I want to leave the two Healers so enthusiastically and forget about what will happen to them.

"Are they coming with us too?" I continue to inquire, raising another important question, which, although less intensively, but with sufficient enthusiasm, strains my skull. Because the two short days I spent in the company of our new teammates helped to plant the seeds of suspicion and foreboding in my mind enough to make me prefer to part ways with them, even if that would mean the loss of their help. There wouldn't even be a problem with Horangi, but König... he's a different story. And I don't just want to keep him away from my friends, because I'm secretly afraid that they work together like a ticking time bomb, and it's only a matter of time before they have a punch-up due to their incompatible personalities with Riley. There is something inherently dangerous about the hooded Hunter that clings to his every cell like a bloodthirsty demonic presence. It was already difficult for me to decipher the masked man, but König is a completely new kind of riddle, and I'm not sure that I want to know what is hidden under the dark textile. I have a gut feeling that if I dip even one toe into this shallow, murky mystery, the monster lurking in the bottomless swamp will grab me and drag me under. But despite my vivid imagination, my rational side is perfectly aware that I need to observe just enough to be able to read him and know what he and his little companion are up to behind the scenes. Because they are most certainly not so willing because of their good heart and conscience.

"Shepherd won't let us go without his dogs." The Hunter notes curtly, and based on his tone it's clear that even without saying it, he understood whom I was aiming at so skillfully. The edge of disdain moves into his deep voice, which has been lurking under the surface ever since we were drawn here by the clues given us by Valeria. And although I know the kind of self-restraint and discipline the man possesses, it's still impressive how effectively he can rein in his temper, even though his colleague's behavior made it a difficult task for him on several occasions. They cooperate with us with perfect professionalism, but they make sure, with small and sly signs, that we know that, thanks to the old shit, we are not in control here. Our little adventure yesterday made this very clear.

"How surprising." I remark dryly, and I don't even try to make the words crawling on my tongue a little less sarcastic, because I know that my cynicism now finds a match in my partner. Shepherd wants to keep us on a short leash through the two Hunters, and I'm pretty sure it would only take one wrong move to make the kindness of our new helpers disappear like a mirage in the desert. But it's even more likely that the old bastard will wait until we smooth this little nuisance out for him, and then he will get rid of us. That would be very clever, and would give a good reason why the two mercenaries are coming with us. In light of this, we not only have to get hold of the serum and be careful with the mutants, but we also have to keep a watchful eye on when they stab us in the back. Wonderful.

"You shouldn't have come to the interrogation room." Riley deviates from the thread of our conversation, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't expect him to bring up my little incident sooner or later. It's a fact that it would have made a much better impression on our hosts if I hadn't poked my nose into their business, and perhaps if anger hadn't burned inside me like an inferno, I would have been able to think clearly and stay away. Undoubtedly, it would have attracted less attention, and it's also likely that even without my intervention, they would have found the bloody method that would have made that scumbag want to spill every last bit of info he had. The secret of my little abilities would also have remained under wraps, which would still give me a trump card in case one of our hired babysitters decided to help me cross over to the other world. But the icy hatred that closed its teeth around my insides injected a poison into me, causing a red fog to descend on my mind that I was unable to fight against. And to be honest, I didn't want to.

"I'd argue with that." I retort dispassionately, and I still don't meet his gaze, the weight of which now almost suffocates me. Although our relationship has fallen into something quite attractively complicated, I know that when it comes to work, he knows no joke. And it occurs to me that he might want to scold me now because I wasn't able to do what was expected of me again. And I would like to warn him well in advance, before he can even delve into his disciplining, that no one forbade me to interfere even with a fucking word. Horangi's feeble attempt was more of a less-than-enthusiastic warning than an actual command. If he was serious, then he would have easily arranged it so that I could not barge into the interrogation room. Because he could have killed me with one move.

A frightened whine penetrates the noise of the chirping machines in the ward, and as I see the half-asleep boy moving closer to the woman, who just begins to draw soothing circles through the blue material of the hospital nightgown on his bony back, then the terrifying feeling that brought me to the container on swift legs rises again in me. There is no protocol or rule that could have stopped me then, even if my brain now knows that sitting on my pretty ass and waiting for the big boys to take care of the situation would have been the right thing to do. But I'm too stubborn for that.

"It was our task to find out what he knows."  The man states the truth flatly, and I only carefully divert my gaze from the Healers hugging on the sick bed to immerse myself in the inscrutable eyes of Riley's reflection. Because from someone who carries out his duties with such rigor and keeps to what is expected of him, I wouldn't exactly expect him to let my newest naughtiness pass without a word. Although I had already managed to avoid the retort that my misbehavior would have deserved once, I had saved his bosom friend by disobeying the order. But now, guided only by my own feelings, I charged into the middle of their party like a bull gone wild. Not that I mind for a minute.

"It took a long time. I sped it up." I offer the most acceptable reason, which I'm sure can soften the condemnation that might be camped in his mind. Because even though he knows that my terrible game was about much more than that, he can't argue with the fact that I forced out the answers that we were after much sooner than they could have achieved by beating him into a bloody pulp. And it's just an insignificant factor that I used specific tools, and the motivating force behind my actions is another completely negligible detail. The point is, that we got what we needed to continue our search for the serum. It's best for him and me if we leave it at that.

"You took revenge." He specifies simply, and even I'm surprised that there is no reprimanding weight behind his words. As if he had merely made a frivolous remark, rather than stating why I had so vehemently stormed in when they worked so diligently on their victim. But if his insight strikes me unexpectedly, my surprise quickly fades, because it's clear that he already knew why I was there when I crossed the threshold of the interrogation room. But instead of feeling ashamed for exposing my not-so-nice motives, the uncomfortable tightness in my stomach that hasn't really gone away since yesterday just flares up again. And as petty as it may be, I was filled with vengeance indeed when I laid my sly little hands on our prisoner, but I'm by no means such a noble soul as to refrain from it. This kind of meanness fits right into my repertoire of personality traits.

"Is it such a big deal?" I turn back to spying on the small room, because it's much easier to study the dark walls than to digest how effortlessly he can see through me. Of course, it's not that I have lost my mystery to him that bothers me, but rather the fact that I feel like a little kid caught doing mischief. Because from his tone it's like I did something completely wrong. Although I know that my approach was truly merciless, that dirtbag deserved every single moment of it. I don't care if what I have done is questionable, because as soon as I saw the desperation on that disgusting face swimming in tears and snot, my mood turned better in an instant. And if there was even a little justice left in the world, then all the wretches like this bastard would receive this punishment. What's wrong with such scum finally getting a taste of their own cruelty?

"No."  He breaks the short silence, agreeing with me almost too naturally, which is completely foreign from his mouth. Because this makes me unsure for a minute about why he brought up the whole topic in the first place. If it doesn't bother him that I took control and used my own little incentive, then what is his problem? "But you don't have to get your hands dirtier at all costs."  He adds, and I don't like the tone he puts into his voice at all, like he wanted to scold me. Which sounds bad coming from him, because we both know that while I may be a sneaky bastard, he doesn't need to go next door when it comes to brutality. We aren’t different in any way, and he shouldn't point out how unfeminine and not-so-delicate it is when I use these merciless tactics.

"There's enough blood on them anyway. A little more won't make a difference." I remark nonchalantly, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me with all my strength, because I'm afraid that if I look at the Hunter, I will glimpse something that my soul couldn't bear. I don't want to see his contempt or his superiority, because I don’t feel an iota of regret. This cruelty helped me through hardships all my life, I took what I needed to survive. If there was even a little less blood on my hands, I'd be lying there in that fucking bed right now, beaten, starved, raped and used. The only thing that kept me from this was that I immersed myself in the filth as deeply as was necessary, and my selfishness served me quite well. And if I have to drown in this infectious pool, I will.

But the movement comes completely unexpectedly, as one of his big hands finds my shoulder, and as his fingers gently tighten around the tensing muscles, I turn my head towards him with a starled shiver, because the tenderness in his touch reluctantly tears me out of the gloomy monologue going on in my head. And the way those brown eyes glance down at me makes my stomach jump instinctively, because the inscrutable flickers dancing there make the anger raging inside me fade away in a minute. The heat emanating from his palm pleasantly licks at my skin, which has cooled down due to the bitter rage, and brings my attention back to him so decisively from the chaos in my brain, as if he would be my anchor keeping me in reality.

"I know you're cruel. You don't have to prove it." He states, and his voice fades to a grumble, as he takes a small step to close the distance between the two of us. And as he leans down to me and his scent fills my nose like a familiar visitor, every nerve in my body is sharpened to what he has to say. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore." He declares, and with this one sentence, he dispels all the doubts that have nested in the hidden corners of my brain so far. And the realization that this is exactly why I wanted to leave the two Healers behind me tears into my mind. Because I saw in them the fate that could easily have found me too. I could have ended up chained and abused to the extreme, but instead, for all my selfishness and dishonesty, karma has led me to a place where I am treated much better than my background would justify.

And now here is Riley, who knows my worst side, has experienced firsthand the caustic sarcasm I can use to dig into other people's weaknesses with my words, and what evils my hands are capable of when my interests demand it. Yet knowing this, he offers that I don't have to walk this dark road alone, but willingly joins me. He doesn't expect me to leave behind my dubious methods accumulated over the years, he doesn't ask me to wash my hands clean. And because of this, something completely inexplicable awakens inside me, which simultaneously fills me with a pleasant warmth, which is followed by a hot trembling lightness that spreads through all the fibers of my being. And along with that, an icy fear creeps into the pit of my stomach, because the warning flashes in my subconscious almost immediately that I mustn't let this go. I can't waste this opportunity that fate has given me, because I'm not sure I could survive if I lost them.

And as a result of the realization, the invisible fingers of the tears spurred by the rising emotions gnaw into my eyes with almost painful force, but forcing the feelings down my dry throat, I just nod with a faint smile on my face. Because now I can see clearly. It takes shape in my head firmly that I'm willing to cling to the team, and especially to him with every drop of my blood, that this pledge almost burns into my brain.

⃰

The warm rays of the sun caress my naked arm peeking from under my shirt with deceptive peace, and as I leave the cargo deck hand in hand with my companions, and wade into the wild grass, the sweet scent of wildflowers fills my nose, and I allow myself to drink in the picturesque landscape for a minute. As if I had fallen into a dream, the meadow stretches to the edge of the horizon with such unimaginable calmness, where Nik so skilfully put down our plane, the soft noise of which is accompanied by the buzzing of bees and the chirping song of crickets as background noise. And at other times, this huge open space might make me nervous, where we are easy prey for the mutants who are stalking us, but behind the large building not far from us, the abundance of trees stretching to the sky cover us beneficially from at least one side. A real, hidden corner of paradise.

In other circumstances and in another life, this beautiful weather might even tempt me to have a little picnic in this undisturbed clearing that spreads out in front of our temporary accommodation. Of course, this would be a realistic idea if there was no chance that my idyllic pastime would be interrupted by a deformed monster or one of its humanoid friends, who would pay their respects with a slightly different kind of snack in mind. Although based on Price's information, the safe house might be located in the middle of nowhere, but it's just reassuringly close enough to the colony to be at a comfortable distance from any reckless beasts. Of course, the suspicion raging in my brain doesn't ease one bit, because, during my ever-longer mission, I already had the opportunity to experience what kind of horrors can be lurking behind such beautiful landscapes with watchful eyes. And most of the time they don't appear in the form of malformed animals, but take on a much more human face. Naturally, in this filthy place laced with death, we are still each other's greatest enemies.

"Good to see you're still alive!" A familiar voice interrupts my thoughts, and as I turn my head in the direction of its source, my dark little heart leaps with real joy. Because as soon as I see Garrick emerging from behind the battered door of the house, a definite line of a sincere smile crosses my face. And although it's barely been a while since I last had the good fortune to admire the Hunter's good features and even more pleasant aura, yet, in an almost disgusting way, my soul is relieved that amidst all the complicated misery, I finally have a familiar figure near me.

"We need more than that to bite the bullet!" MacTavish exclaims, and  he hurries forward grinning, so that when his friend is within arm's reach, he simply pulls him into a brotherly embrace enthusiastically, patting his back with the weights of the unspoken words of happiness in the small movement. It's no wonder that this meeting is so heart-warming, since every single mission is another chance for these happy moments to never happen again. And this is probably not the first party they got involved in, but in light of the fact that we are drowning deeper and deeper into unknown complications, even I can sympathize with the zeal of my two fanboys.

I don't have to wait long for the one person who is still missing from the impromptu celebration to show up, and as I recognize the well-known figure of Price marching out from the dim depths of the house, the fleeting feeling of absence that may have been present in me until now disappears. The man carefully studies us gathered in the field, and when his gaze settles on me after Riley, who is anchored next to me, and his beard-framed mouth curls up in a satisfied little smile, then my stomach jumps with excited joy with such ridiculous speed that it's downright disgusting. Still, it doesn't bother me for a minute that such crippling emotions rear their heads in my little soul, because I would be willing to do anything to never have to live without them.

"I've hoped this would be the case." Price also joins in our greeting, referring back to my Scottish friend's earlier confident statement with his small comment, as he comes close enough to welcome us. And when one of his big hands lands on my shoulder with the greatest naturalness and squeezes it gently, the pleasant warmth, that only the small team was able to revive in me for a very long time, spreads through all of my limbs following his touch. And I swear that an almost paternal pride shines in those bright eyes, as they survey my face, and I have to keep my cheeky superiority in my features with all my strength, because I don't want to get emotional in front of our audience just getting off the plane. "I've heard a lot of good things about you." He adds, and even though his praise is enough to awaken an impossible cheerfulness in me, but as his gaze meaningfully moves to the masked Hunter enveloped in silence, I understand to whom I owe this exceptional treatment. And because of this, I feel that the tremble in my stomach paints surprise on my face despite my will and all my attempts at indifference. I didn't think that it would be Riley who would so enthusiastically praise my performance to the boss, when earlier I had him to thank for the bright idea of my forest trip, due to which I almost got impaled by a mutant piggy. But this is enough for the hope in my head to push me even deeper into the embrace of my complicated feelings for him. Great.

And at that moment, Riley, who was already more wordless than usual, joins in the warm welcoming, and although he remains silent, he greets our leader with a firm nod. Others might not find his curtness particularly striking, but he cannot hide from the captain's eyes either. And I'm sure that Price also realized by reading his companion's body language that his stand-offishness is directed much more to the two mercenaries who approach us with lazy steps. Because it would be impossible not to notice the distant aura he puts on when he has to share the same space with his colleagues. And although this tense atmosphere made our plane ride excruciatingly long, considering the unique show we were treated to during our joint mission, the grumpy mood of the masked man doesn't seem exaggerated one bit.

Even though they close the distance between us with the silence of the predators lying in wait, I don't have to look back to know that our new companions have arrived at our small gathered group, because the tiny little hairs reflexively rise at my back as I feel that unmistakable gaze burning the back of my head. It was enough for me to look into those blue eyes once over the mangled body spread out on the floor of the interrogation room to know that the wisest thing to do was to ignore the existence of the hooded Hunter altogether. For although I don’t know to what, apart from his obvious interest in my kind, I owe that persistent attention with which he honors me every time we come into forced proximity, yet I'm sure that no good would come of entering into this dubious game. Whatever his purpose is by obnoxiously and shamelessly staring at me at every opportunity he gets.

Price is the one who, as a true leader, grasps the noble task of breaking the ice, and turns to the two mercenaries, straightening his back out with confidence. And although there is a diplomatic impassiveness on his face, and I might even detect a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, but my trained eyes catch the troubled wrinkles gathering on his forehead under the cover of the hat just in time before they disappear. It's rather cunning and tactical of the man to show his best face to those who might run to report to their master after his first questionable move, but despite his best efforts, the visible traces of suspicion remain in his gaze, with which he measures his colleagues up.

"Thanks for the help." The captain expresses his gratitude, and if he has doubts about the two men, it doesn't show in his voice for a minute. And although it's quite clear that he did this out of mandatory politeness, but even I'm impressed when he fixes his eyes on the hired Hunters with the keen attention of a hawk, as if he is trying to read even the smallest twitches, assessing every second how trustworthy the newcomers really are.

"We were paid well to do it." Horangi comments with complete calmness, and even though it was evident that the credits made them so willing until now, even I find it bold that he chirps out this little detail so casually. He doesn't even try to deny his motivations, and it can only happen for an infinitely simple reason, which helps my eyebrows furrow. The Korean Hunter and his no less pleasant companion are so carefree because they don't see an iota of threat in us, which would make them think it would be worth behaving more cautiously. Although under normal circumstances the goal would be for our group to be able to work together without stress, but it's quite obvious from the small, nonchalant little movement as the man cocks his head in interest that this isn’t the case. This is at least as humiliatingly belittling as it's irresponsible, and helps to spread the sparks of tension for a minute in the warm air swayed by the spring wind.

But as rapidly as the unpleasant atmosphere arrived, it dissolves as quickly, for MacTavish breaks the silence, loud with the buzzing of the beetles, that has set in, before my masked friend has time to act driven by the spark of irritation in his dark gaze. As he leaves Garrick's side and takes a few hasty steps closer to the captain, all eyes are suddenly on him, beneficially interrupting the storm that was no doubt slowly brewing.

"Did ya find out anythin' interestin'?" The Hunter with the mohawk turns the attention to the mission instead, directing our conversation in a much safer and more important direction. Despite his best efforts, no one moves for a couple of uncertain seconds, and even the blades of grass stand on guard, waiting to see if one of my buddies would like to test their skills against each other instead of working together, but in the end, it's Price who is the first to settle back into his composure with the impeccable nimbleness of years and routine.

"Maybe." The captain answers thoughtfully, and his gaze lingers on the two mercenaries before he nods toward our new shelter, inviting us inside. Whatever Laswell has dug up from the depths of yet another bottomless drawer, it's not a topic to be discussed in the open, and this sufficiently awakens my curiosity. "Let's go inside." And as he sets off towards the entrance of the safe house with quick steps, I'm the first to follow him, not only because instead of the tense atmosphere that slowly fills the peaceful meadow on the wings of the pollen blowing in the breeze, even the vague emptiness beyond the threshold is more inviting, but also because there are much more urgent problems scratching my mind than the struggle for dominance stemming from masculine vanity. The serum is what made us so beautifully wander to almost the other side of the world, and this very dangerous little vial of hell is why we crossed the ocean to visit another continent. The clever trick Shepherd will use to remove us from the uncertain variables is the problem of the future, which won't come if we don't concentrate on the task with all our focus. And it seems that after the fleeting intermezzo, the others come to this conclusion as well, because without further ado everyone heads towards our temporary headquarters too.

And despite the desolation of the building from the outside, as I cross the border of the house and the cool darkness embraces me, I'm greeted by a very well-maintained, almost homely interior. The gaudy stains on the walls preserve the old tasteful pattern of the torn wallpaper, and there is no doubt that a whole series of family photos could have rested on these eerie square patterns, which the residents might have taken with them in a hurry, in order to have a few memories frozen in the past peace, to which they can long to return to. And as I follow Price further into the uninhabited depths of the house, from the worn furniture forgotten behind and the child's toy lying in the corner, and from the curtain submitted to a slow rot I feel like I had trespassed into somewhere, where the faded ghosts of the late inhabitants still haunt, locked in the objects left behind. But I quickly suppress this short-lived unpleasant sensation, because if there is anything remaining here from the previous owners, it can only be a few bones and decaying scraps of clothing left by the victims when the beasts inevitably found them.

"What a nice place you got us." I note pulling the corner of my mouth into a grimace, and although my voice is noticeably laced with irony, considering the circumstances, the captain has managed to find a really impressive den, which is just right for us to hang out in for a few days. And even though my pretty little body is used to the puritanical comfort of the colony, but for once I'm willing to set aside the inconvenience that I might have to share my bed with ghouls.

"The credit is our helper's. The big guy gave us the coordinates." Garrick shares the information quietly as he catches up to me, and it's enough for him to nod behind with his head to let me know who he might be talking about from our new teammates. And the fact that the pleasant shack is thanks to König explains a lot. Up until now, it was obvious, based only on his rather strong German accent and even more German-sounding name, that he was not from an American colony, but the fact that he provided such accurate information about this safe house hidden in the desolate wilderness confirms that he was born somewhere in the area. And it's quite logical that a terrifying butcher like him started his later adventurous journey from one of the largest and world-famous colonies, because the mention of the name of the Hunter training center operating here fills even civilians with sufficient foreboding. And where else could such a burly giant have been trained into such an efficient killing machine than in Purgatory? It wasn't by chance that they gave it this apt nickname, because the miserable little kids who are dragged there endure such sufferings that, although they become "purified warriors", the few years they suffer there, leave a permanent mark on them. Or at least this urban legend is spread by word of mouth. But it's enough to just recall the bloodthirsty pleasure with which the hooded Hunter stomped someone to death, and it immediately becomes clear that there is perhaps a hint of truth in the rumor.

The captain finally ushers us into a spacious dining room, in the middle of which stretches an old table, where a myriad of documents and weapons are spread out, indicating that the man had just felt at home enough to get to work while he waited for us to join them. And although they got here with less than a day's lead, based on the scattered reports and papers, the two Hunters had enough time to review the important pieces of information, and perhaps even work out the beginnings of a plan to celebrate our arrival. If Laswell took swift action, then Price rivals this momentum, because as my eyes discover the map of the colony among the many pages, and the tangled chaos of streets and buildings highlighted on it in bright colors, I quickly understand that our leader wasn't lazy and must have already studied the field.

"Kate had a hard time with this. She managed to find out that the Rat is in the colony indeed and that his organization is involved in several businesses." The bearded man immediately jumps into the middle of the briefing, not wasting a minute, as we all gather around the table, and he skilfully pulls out a file, which he pushes to the center and opens in front of us. And when the picture of an unknown guy richly adorned with tattoos appears, it becomes obvious that our aforementioned criminal is staring back at us from the low-quality photo. "But he hides well, and no one finds him if he doesn't want it." He shares this not-necessarily positive development, and with this, he succeeds in planting an easily recognizable atmosphere of pessimism in the dim little room. Of course, we could guess that this bastard had to earn the nickname somehow, so it wouldn't be easy to get hold of him, but now we can't allow ourselves to start this search with uncertain assumptions. We need to find him quickly, but mostly immediately, because the clock is ticking, and with every minute we are getting closer to that damned poison finding a new owner.

"This doesn't make our job any easier." MacTavish voices some of the doubts in my head, and as his dark eyebrows meet with annoyance in a rather troubled grimace, it becomes quite evident that he had a similar train of thought in his head as I did.

"We have to get him before he sells the serum." Riley joins in as well, and although the seriousness of the situation should require my undivided attention, I can't help but acknowledge with satisfaction that he almost automatically lined up next to me, like a loyal shadow. And even this small detail can ignite excited little sparks under my skin, because his proximity is enough for all my senses to be painfully sharpened. And I have to forcibly divert my concentration back towards our discussion, because no matter how much I want to read every tiny movement of his face covered with a mask, now my useless brain has to deal with the analysis of bigger complications. Pull yourself together, Leona.

"If he doesn't come out on his own, we'll smoke him out." Horangi puts forward the rather radical idea, and leans comfortably on the table with folded hands on the other side, as casually as if we weren’t just trying to find the ever-cooling trail of a drug that leads to certain death. And I find his ease interesting, because I'm pretty sure that fat credits won't be of much use if the army of hybrids and their little minions overrun every corner of the surviving civilization. Because this tiny little suggestion would most certainly lead to that.

"It would be an irresponsible idea." I interject my comment, looking through the file that was probably dug up by Laswell, searching for anything that might narrow down where in this huge, bustling city we should start our search to find our criminal in the shortest possible time. And Price was really not exaggerating, the dude got his hands into almost everything from trading with weapons, to prostitution, to drug and human trafficking, so it's no wonder that his criminal organization weaves through the colony like a spider web full of decay. Because, except for the central sectors, where the centers of the official bodies are concentrated in each colony, areas where he has influence have been circled in bright red almost everywhere else. Fabulous.

"Scum like him is easy to catch. All it takes is force." König chimes in for the first time since our arrival, and as his voice resonates through the barren walls of the building, I also break out of my observations and shift my gaze from the piles of documents to the man with careful deliberation. And from the way he straightens up and stands out from our small group without the slightest uncertainty, it's clear that he sees nothing wrong with his idea full of violence. And although it's already quite obvious from this how they managed to find the weak link leading to the Vultures so amazingly quickly, this approach won't work now. Because it's the least of our problems that everyone is in a foreign land except him, but if our target is such an influential person that he has ears on every corner, then he will know that we are in his heels before we have a chance to touch him with a finger.

"If he finds out he's being targeted by Hunters, he'll take off before we can even get close to him." I explain this non-negligible factor, and as I firmly hold the unpleasant weight of his gaze fixed on me, I know I'm not imagining the curious glint in those ice-blue eyes. "That's why we're here now instead of the colony, I imagine." I add this detail almost as a side note, and I don't try to prevent cynicism from creeping into my voice, because I want this behemoth to know that no matter how menacingly he stares, he won't be able to force me to surrender. Especially not when I know I'm right. If it were so easy to track down that goddamn thug without being noticed, then Price would have been breathing down the dude's neck before our plane even touched the ground.

"She's right." Garrick agrees, his face involuntarily giving way to the helplessness that must have settled in his head, and which helps to plant the faint line of resigned wrinkles on his face. Without a doubt, he would have been the first to bring our target to us wrapped in a pretty bow if he had the chance to lay his deadly little hands on him. But it wasn't a coincidence that they arrived here first and waited for us, because this action requires much more caution than they can organize with their usual bloody techniques.

"But we can't just sit around and wait!" MacTavish argues, spreading his hands out passionately, thus effectively voicing the frustration that is probably slowly forming in everyone upon hearing our increasingly hopeless mission. But even though I can understand his powerless rage, we cannot run headlong into the wall, because at this point we risk the complete destruction of humanity with every wrong move.

"I agree with Woods on this. We can't act hastily. We need intel." Price affirms, his eyes scanning our small gathering meaningfully, silently signaling that although he would like to throw himself into the middle of action, even his experience cannot guarantee success right now. "Nik, can you help us?" He suddenly turns towards the entrance of the dining room, and I look back over my shoulder in confusion, because I could swear that we left our pilot at the plane. But as I see the man leaning against the doorframe with complete peace of mind, many questions arise in my mind regarding our friend, who until now was believed to be rather harmless. And judging by the fact that my companions aren't at all surprised that Nik was able to sneak up to us so unobtrusively, I have a very strong feeling that I quite misunderstood the guy. His remarkable ability to follow us without being noticed is only a negligible detail in addition to the fact that the captain turns to him to solve our predicament.

"I have a few contacts in Colony No. 2. I'll see what they know." Nik offers, with such a self-evident simplicity that deepens my suspicion that the man mostly plays pilot as a hobby, and pursues very dubious activities as a full-time job instead. Because there is no other logical explanation as to why he has contacts on another continent who hide deep enough in the underworld to help us. Very interesting.

"All right." Price gives his blessing to the proposed solution, and then immediately turns his determined attention back to our small team. "Until then, we'll wait." He shares our next step, and although I can feel that not everyone is filled with unclouded happiness by this development, he gets a nod of agreement from everyone, even from our mercenary comrades. "Let's rest. The last week has been busy." He adds in conclusion, now with a much softer tone, and the hoarseness of exhaustion settles in his voice, which he has been able to more or less successfully remove from himself so far.

As our two mercenaries take the opportunity without further comment and leave the scene of our meeting with comfortable steps, I have the opportunity to take a closer look at the face of our leader. And although for a fleeting moment, I still feel the scrutinizing gaze of the giant man on the middle of my back, I'm much more occupied by the very pale grayness that I now quite clearly discover appearing on the captain's skin. Up until now, it might have been the excitement of the trip that could divert my attention, but now I see the weariness dominating the features of the bearded Hunter, and in the semi-darkness surrounding the room, the circles under his eyes seem even darker. And as I shift my searching gaze to Garrick, I can make out the small gray veins running along his temple even from the cover of his cap, which can indicate only one thing. And after a quick calculation, my suspicion is confirmed, that I haven't been able to handle them with my clever little hands for weeks, and although they probably didn't have to use their ability extremely, stress can very effectively bring out exhaustion in them. Although my Scottish buddy and his masked bosom friend received a charge not so long ago, at the gate of our important little mission, a little boost won't hurt them either.

"By the way." I speak up suddenly, effectively drawing all eyes on me, and I take advantage of this to get around the table, strolling closer to Garrick, who looks the most worn out, and who only curiously raises one of his dark eyebrows, when I pull off the glove from one of my pretty little hands to hold it out towards him. "It would be time to regenerate you." I note, bringing a mixture of surprise and concern to the man's face.

"Won't it be a bit much?" He asks, his voice full of doubt, and I can't hold back the cheeky little smile that escapes my lips, because the way he peers at Price for help makes him look infinitely boyish. And I also know from this small confused gesture that it's only worry speaking, because there is no doubt that he doesn't want to strain my little body in the least by asking for my aid. But unfortunately, determination works much stronger in me than the dull grip of the slowly awakening hunger in my stomach, and I'm willing to go to painful ends if I can guarantee that the care with which they turn towards me won't disappear. And although this admission fills a part of me with the right amount of disgust and contempt, I just have to think about the fact they mean my safety, and I immediately manage to suppress these unwanted voices. Because thanks to the suffering of the two Healers, the motivation to feed my selfish desires with their attention lives much more vividly in my consciousness, as if I were pouring oil on an already insatiable fire.

"I'll survive it." I comment simply, and although I know that by charging four Hunters I will wake up the torturous hunger gnawing at my insides, this small nuisance seems bearable. Even knowing that it’s uncertain how I will get blood, because I'm sure, even if Price brought me a tasty treat, it won't alleviate my problems permanently. And I can only wildly hope that the power of the mouth-watering dinner given by Riley will last until I maybe manage to catch an unsuspecting fool in the colony to quench my thirst. But no matter how much these troubling thoughts arise in me, as Garrick's damp hand wraps around mine, and the first burst of my energy penetrates his body, then I feel the familiar pull of the demanding force, and I know I have made the right decision. Because my hunger is a negligible inconvenience, if I can guarantee they will be in top shape when it's needed most. Even if every single nerve in me cruelly warns me that this will have consequences.

⃰

The silence in the house echoes in my ears with painful loudness, and the creaking of the old floor under my boots screams in my skull in an almost ear-piercing way, as I drag my legs, which are growing heavier by the minute, toward the room assigned to me. I wasn't wrong in that the charging of my four companions would sufficiently flare up the well-known pangs of hunger twisting my insides, and although it doesn't besiege me nearly as strongly as last time, I feel that it's only a matter of time before the feverish agony hits me. And even though I don't regret for a minute that I was able to solve my team's problem, I have to get some food very soon, if I don't want to be the one who, weakened by hunger, hinders the mission. If I have a little luck, the captain has been kind enough to surprise me with a delicious morsel, which will be just enough to ease my suffering. And as soon as we wander into the colony, I make sure to catch some stupid criminal and refuel with nutrients, because I have a bad feeling in my mind that tells me that our deployment will take turns where it will come in handy if I'm in peak condition.

And as, lost inside the massive building, I finally reach the corridor on the floor where my temporary quarters rest, instead of being relieved, all my limbs fill with tension in a split second, because I discover someone who shouldn't be hiding here in the least. Because Price certainly planned it so that I would be given the one out of the dozen rooms which is farthest from our guests, in case they wanted to use my services. Although I don't think they would openly force me to regenerate them, in this dirty world even less deadly people are capable of horrible things, and it's even better to be careful with someone who can crush another's skull with their bare hands.

Certainly, he had already heard my steps when I was tramping up the rickety stairs, but now, as I approach him, König turns his head in my direction with leisurely calmness, and even this small movement is enough for caution to gain a foothold in my mind. I have already acknowledged the amazing size that genetics has blessed him with, but now, as he is surrounded by the faint light filtering through one of the broken windows, he looks more like a shapeshifting demon than a human being. And even though he's comfortably leaning his back against the worn wall, there's something quite unsettling about the way the fabric of his black uniform strains painfully on his arms, as his folded hands rest on his chest. Because he may seem perfectly harmless to an unsuspecting observer, but my paranoid mind warns that it's only an ephemeral illusion, and that an artificial peace resides in each and every inch of him. But I'm even more interested in why he's here, because I was sure that after our impromptu meeting, he and his friend went off to rest. And even if he has zero navigational skills, he couldn't have accidentally wandered in here, because their room is most definitely on the ground floor.

But no matter how much caution creeps into my limbs, I don't let any of it reach the surface, because it would be a mistake to show him the concerns he can arouse in me. I have just seen enough of his behavior to know that this operation is just as much about polishing his ego as material goods, and what could be a more tempting pastime for such a man, than to frighten a unique little thing like me. I saw the barely concealed fear in the eyes of his men during the mission, and it's quite easy to deduce from this what kind of respect the Hunter desires. The kind that makes the knees of the unfortunate person who stumbles in front of him tremble, and that makes him feel even more powerful. A pathetic but perfectly legitimate goal. After all, instilling fear is at least as effective a control strategy as gaining respect.

His bright eyes follow my every step with unbroken attention, as I walk closer, and from his gaze resting on me, I feel like a mistrustful small animal that approaches a larger predator in the hope that it will be merciful enough not to kill it. And although we are currently playing on the same team, nothing guarantees that this hunch of mine won't come true at some point in the not-so-distant future. Because, unfortunately, my observations and intuitions are very rarely wrong, and now every nerve fiber of mine screams that I'm dealing with a beast in the guise of a man who, if he could, would have wrapped his needle-sharp teeth around my throat a long time ago. And while in the case of Riley, I was sure that he rewarded me with his disdain for my not-so-appealing behavior, in the case of the hooded Hunter, I have no idea what could be causing this outstanding interest.

"Your team is unusual." He breaks the heavy silence that has settled between the desolate walls, and I just stop at a safe distance from him and raise one of my eyebrows curiously, because he starts the first direct conversation we have with a rather interesting remark. And with this one sentence, he succeeds in reminding me that the good life I experienced in the unit is a unique privilege, which normally my kind hardly ever gets. And while in most cases the Healers are kept away from all the nitty-gritty details of the actual deployments because they get more use out of them unharmed, it cannot be denied that the active role that my team so generously gifted me within the ranks of Unit 141 is quite unusual. And although I don't like the fact that he expresses his comments so freely, it's indisputable that as a stranger, and especially as a Hunter in a leading role, the dynamics of my team can be a real curiosity for him.

"If you think it's strange that I dare to speak in their company, then it really is." I answer with an unimpressed tone, trying with every cell to be able to keep my confidence. Although he still doesn't move from the wall, the way he stares at me with an almost abnormal immobility makes the goosebumps prickle on my back. As if every single muscle of his would be stuck in a deliberate frozen state, but my keen senses catch the tiny little movement as his fingers wrap a breath tighter around his biceps. And this simply gives the impression that he is forcing himself, against his nature, into a less threatening position than his instincts would like. Maybe my brain overthinks every little thing, but it's no coincidence that I honed my observational skills over the years. I see that something completely different lurks under the surface than what he lets on.

"This isn't common in many places." He states simply, but his remark doesn't throw me off in the slightest, because I'm also perfectly aware of this fact. That's why I'm so motivated to keep my place. "But Price seems to be a liberal leader." He notes almost only to himself, and his voice is full of fascination, as if he had just made a very profound statement. However, it bothers me much more, and it can suddenly turn my already sharpened mood into a more prickly one, when my clever little ears hear the breath of derision hidden in his tone. Others might not even notice it, or would attribute it to something completely insignificant, something that is not worth pointing out, but I have analyzed just enough people over the years to know that nothing is completely unconscious that is buried behind one's words.

And even I cannot explain the angry flame that kindles within me at the thought that this complete stranger is making such casual comments about the captain. Of course, I'm aware that Price is not an innocent virgin, nor a flawless saint who needs someone to protect his honor, but there is something viscerally infuriating about the way the hooded man turns to him with barely veiled criticism.

But, as the stagnant emptiness in my stomach tightens, I decide that I shouldn't engage in this conversation when my mind is dulled by the pull of hunger slowly coming to life. Nothing good will come of this irritation taking control of my brain, because I might say something that would give him a reason to leave behind his false peace and show what secret temper lies beneath the no less dangerous exterior.

"If you came here to provoke me, then don't waste your time." I sigh tiredly, and as the exhaustion screams in every corner of my body at the same time, I set off with renewed motivation towards the door, behind which the solitude awaits that I yearn for. "It won't work."  I add, not even sparing him a last look, my eyes strictly fixed on the worn wood that hides my shelter. And once again, I have to note that he didn't come here by chance, because out of the countless possibilities, he managed to settle down right before the entrance where I'm heading, with almost measured accuracy.

"I didn't mean to insult you." He says plainly, and it's quite disturbing that there is still no obvious emotion in his tone, which makes him seem much less human than my nervous system finds comfortable. His statement doesn't seem like a lie, but my impatience grows with each passing minute, because I can't figure out what the hell is going on here. I could think that he only wanted to forge closer unity between our teams, but then I would have to be much more naive. In that case, he wouldn't have waited to catch me alone and without any witnesses to see whatever he was planning in that mysterious mind of his.

"You want to befriend me, perhaps?" I inquire with a malicious little smile on my face, and the sarcasm that nestles in my voice stings even in my ears. And I know it's not the smartest idea to taunt a guy who can tear me to pieces with his hands, but that didn't stop me even when I was mouthing back to Riley. And my sharp little tongue won't go on vacation when the starved tension working inside me rages in my head. "How nice of you." I sprinkle at the end, considering the whole tense conversation as closed, because no matter what reason he strayed here for, I don't want to talk it out with him now, when we are all too alone. And even though carefree mockery shines from every cell in me, my hands wrap around the doorknob too quickly when I finally arrive before my room. Because he may still not move from the place he has occupied until now, but the threatening aura that emanates from him like some uncontrollable, poisonous gas almost gnaws at my skin.

But before I have the chance to finally disappear into my little cave, so that I can finally be left alone with the suffering clinging to my insides with its nails, the floor behind me creaks and my fingers freeze on the metal as suddenly as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water in my neck. And for a suffocating moment, everything is shrouded in quietness, and there is such a silence between us that the crackling screams of the old house travel through the walls like an ominous melody.

"I liked what you did in the interrogation room." He utters, and it takes me a second to understand what kind of compliment he gave me due to the stress and the agony of the spasm that is slowly closing my intestines in an iron fist. And when the recognition penetrates my brain and I decode his words, I turn back to him with complete confusion, looking up at him with such shocked astonishment on my face that almost certainly paints a cartoon-like shock on my features. Because suddenly I can't find any logical explanation for how the thread of the conversation has led us to this point, and I can't discover any answers as to why he feels so comfortable around me that he can point this out to me so freely. What the hell?

"Excuse me?" The startled question breaks out of me, and I'm unable to hold back the surprise creeping into my voice, doubting for a fleeting moment whether I heard what he said correctly. But as soon as my eyes meet his, and I discover a glimmer resembling admiration in them, I’m completely dumbfounded. Because under other circumstances, my twisted little soul might even be touched by this unusual recognition, but I know all too well who is standing in front of me. And that makes the unexpected turn the situation took seem even more surreal.

"The bloodlust in your eyes was beautiful." He continues his grotesque praise, almost undisturbed, and as he takes a step towards me, I need the combined work of all my nerves in order not to back away from him, because the distrust drills itself into my brain that if I turn my back on him again, it will end very badly. Because I suddenly sense very well how unbelievably huge this man is, and as my troubled eyes reflexively run over him, I become painfully aware that if he attacks me, I won't be able to defend myself. "I doubt your friends could truly appreciate it." He claims, and now some deliberate malice creeps into his voice, which he doesn't even try to hide, thus clearly showing that he has been holding back his real thoughts until now very willingly.

But when my body breaks out of the paralyzed shock, and I get over the fact that he could crush all my bones to dust with a strong hug, then I finally have the brain capacity to understand what he shared with me so carelessly. And from this simple sentence, the alarm disappears from my mind, because it suddenly makes sense why he honored me with his presence. And as my mind realizes that this little discourse is about nothing but the rivalry that has existed since the very first moment our team met, then my little soul calms down in the blink of an eye, because no matter how terrifying the man may seem, according to this, he is driven by just as fallible and transparent motives like everyone else. And although it's very difficult for me to maintain my indifference due to the intrusion of hunger in my stomach, now that I know why he is so persistently interested in me, the doubt of the unknown disappears from my mind.

"Interesting deduction. But I'm afraid I don't care." I respond with utter disinterest, and as the line of a sardonic smile stretches across my lips, I see the first bewildered wrinkles appear around the skin covered with dark paint. And it's painfully obvious that he didn't expect this reaction, but believed that such a big and strong Hunter's kind approach would make me fall at his feet from the pleasure. But he is seriously mistaken if he thinks it's so pathetically easy to sweep me off my feet.

"You’re wasting your talent with them." He laments, and if I were a little more stupid, I would really believe the sympathy in his voice to be authentic, but even if he hadn't blown his disguise so irresponsibly, I would still see through his benevolence. Because I can tell when someone tries to manipulate me, especially if said someone does it half as skillfully as it would take to be a successful strategy against me.

And at other times, I might want to play with him verbally and continue this complicated moment, but when my stomach convulses with the pain tearing into me, then all my patience evaporates like the last sip of water in the desert. Every single one of my nerve cells is stretched to the point of breaking, and this straining ache makes my body braver than it should be, because the sooner I put an end to this extremely bizarre situation, the sooner I can collapse into my bed to finally rest a little in the embrace of the slow ache that spreads to every fiber of me. I quickly cross the distance of a few steps that are remaining between us, and my hand shoots out towards him with the speed of a venomous snake. It seems that he didn't expect my attack, because before he could react, my fingers close around the fabric covering his face, and as I pull him down to me with a movement that is perhaps more forceful than necessary, he obediently leans down to me, stumbling towards me, and I see genuine shock in his eyes.

"It's unnecessary to try to flatter me." I murmur with deceptive kindness, and it seems that I managed to stun him so much with my unexpected act that he even forgets to protest, because he almost dazedly lets me intrude into his personal space to finally have stare off with him without him towering over me. And although it seems that his spine bends in rather uncomfortable positions in order for me to do this, it only makes the contemptuous grin on my face grow wider. "I know this is all about measuring who's dick is bigger. They have something that you don't and it hurts your ego. It's sad, but you'll have to live with it." I curve my mouth downward pitifully, savoring every single emotion that flashes through his eyes. But as soon as I see one of the gloved hands moving in my periphery, I let go of his hood with nonchalant ease and dance away from him in order to return to my door and open it again. "I recommend that you focus more on the mission. A lot of credit is at stake, isn't it?" I throw my last words at him from the threshold, and as I enter the embrace of the darkness of the small room, I have one last chance to catch his gaze stopping on me as he straightens up, and I'm almost relieved when I'm hidden by the thick wood.

Because even though it was only for a few seconds, I saw something very dangerous flash in those bright eyes, and the warning voice waking up in my brain tells me that this is exactly how the predator stares at its slowly cornered prey. With curious hunger. And that makes me realize, even despite the pain that is slowly squeezing my stomach, that I have crossed an invisible border, which sooner or later will bring the trouble that I so enthusiastically sought out for myself. Wonderful.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #johnny soap mactavish #simon riley #cod ghost #john price #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #captain john price #john mactavish #kyle garrick #cod konig #konig #könig #konig x reader #cod könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x oc #simon riley ghost #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x oc #cod mw3

[mirasantidotes]

Dance With Me

Summary: You've known Pedro since you were teenagers, and you two have grown up into adulthood together. He's always liked you, but never said anything to you about it until one day, he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed and finally confesses to you.

Content Warnings: self-doubt, fear of rejection, interrupted make-out sessions, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I think this is going to be the last fic I write about Pedro himself, I don't want to make him uncomfortable if he were to ever read it, so I will only be doing fanfics of his characters, either with them in character or slightly ooc! Also, sorry for any grammar / spelling / or Spanish mistakes I may have missed when proofreading!

All of my posts with an * in the title contains smut or at least mentions of it.

—

You met Pedro when you were both teens, and you hit it off instantly. The two of you had met when you and your parents had moved to NYC; you both had so much in common— you listened to the same music, liked the same shows, and both were active in wanting to make it in the arts; you singing, and him acting. You would sing him songs, and he would practice his lines for you. Your friendship blossomed unlike any other you had before. It was apparent to you throughout your friendship he may have liked you, but after some time, he seemed to have moved on, or so you thought— he just became better at hiding it. Even as teens, he would compliment you every day, and say you were beautiful, as you would say to him back. 

He was so afraid of rejection, he’s never said anything to you about his crush, even after all these years. You two have now lived together for 5 years; both of your careers have become successful, he’s been in several big-hit HBO projects, which you knew he grew up on and meant so much to him. You, a successful singer with a Grammy trophy for album of the year sitting on a shelf in your room. 

As you do once per week, you wake up earlier than the sleeping birds outside to cook him some breakfast in bed; he loved your cooking— he always complimented it, and never disliked anything you made, even if he was picky with what he ate. You couldn’t find your earbuds to listen to music, so you opted to just play your playlist on the radio on the lowest volume. Though, once your favorite song came on, you came a little too excited to dance around your kitchen while cooking and had turned it up just a tad too loud for sleeping Pedro’s comfort. 

While you’re lost in your thoughts, cooking a large breakfast for the two of you and swaying around your kitchen, you don’t even hear Pedro walk up behind you until you feel his hands on your hips, spooking you. You yelp in surprise, “What the hell, Pedro!” you raise your voice through soft chuckles, hitting his chest playfully, as he smiles brightly and his rich laugh escaping his lips at your reaction; he was always good at sneaking up behind you when you didn’t realize it, making your bones jump out of your skin. The sun through the window lightly illuminated his bed hair and scruffy beard— his strong nose casting a shadow on his face; you get lost in his features, before clearing your throat and turning back around to continue cooking, with a small smile on your face. 

A few minutes pass, and you’re still cooking, but causing small shenanigans to get back at Pedro; when he isn’t looking, you grab the whipped cream from your fridge, you ask him to look at you, and spray some of it on his nose, letting your laughs escape your mouth, as he starts smiling. He takes his finger and cleans his nose off with it, before shoving it in your face, getting some on your nose too, before he licks the remaining of it off of his finger and cleans the rest off his nose with a paper towel. Laughter fills your early morning home, the sun beaming through your curtains, to cast rainbow lights into your shared apartment, the smell of bacon, pancakes, and the making of scrambled eggs in the pan below you as you’re back at the stove, trying to focus on cooking through Pedro’s nonsensical actions, trying to make you laugh. How he loved that sound more than anything and would do anything to hear it— and he always knew how, no matter what you were going through, he was able to be the light that would shine through your darkest times. 

As he leans on the kitchen counter next to you, watching you cook, arms crossed. He stares at your face, your features causing him to almost fall into a trance. He opens his mouth to speak, “You look beautiful today, querida (darling),” he murmurs, still looking at your face, shifting his focus from your eyes to your nose, and your soft, rosy lips. Your eyes slightly widen at his words— sure, he compliments you often, but he never calls you nicknames like that, so it took you by a slight surprise. 

“Thank you, querido (darling),” you giggled back at him, sneaking a small smile in his direction before returning your gaze to the eggs below you, continuing to cook. You don’t see it until it’s happening, he steps closer to you, and strings some of your hair behind your ear, so he can see your soft features. You glance up at him, once more— his hand laying softly on your jaw. Once more, he scans your face, for any sign of discomfort. His smokey, kind eyes look into yours, then to your nose and lips, and finally back up to your eyes. A light flush of pink creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, as does yours. He steps closer slightly, still worried he’s going too far— but you don’t move back, and he takes it as an initiation to move even closer.

He leans in and rests his forehead on yours, both of your eyes closed, and just before his lips touch yours, a soft “Can I?” escapes his mouth, and you just slowly nod, granting his permission. And with that, he lifts his hand to your cheek, slightly tangled in your hair— he presses his lips against your own. You kiss him back, tasting the bitterness of his coffee from earlier on his lips. He lifts his other hand to hold your neck, pulling you closer to him. Sparks fly all over your body with the way he touches you. 

Though you didn’t want this moment to end, you pull away abruptly when you smell the scent of burning eggs and light smoke filling your lungs. You two start laughing as he quickly opens up a window to let some of the smoke out the window before turning back around swiftly to start chuckling at your panicked face. You turn off the stove, and once you finish throwing out the now unrecognizable eggs into the trash can and airing out as much of the smoke as you can, you press your back against the counter, crossing your arms, looking at Pedro— “So what was that kiss about?” you say gently, looking into his eyes, the corners of your lips upturning slightly at the thought of it. 

“Are you that oblivious?” he asks, smiling at you while stepping forward a few steps in your direction before finally leaning next to you on the countertop, his eyes never leaving the sight of you as he crosses his arms.

“Possibly, or maybe I just want to hear you say it,” you speak softly, the smile growing on your face before you turn toward him. 

He pauses for a moment, before finally speaking— “I like you, I always have,” he replies quietly, as he looks down at your feet, pinching his lips together, his cheeks glistening a sheer pink in embarrassment. You catch him off guard when he’s lost in thought, you step in front of him, and you reach your hand up to his face and cup his cheek— his light stubble prickling you in your hand, your other hand pressing lightly on his broad chest— the heat rushing to your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him once more; his arms uncrossing, and wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

Before you realized it, he was turning you both around and lifting your body, and setting you on the counter, still not breaking the kiss. He pulls away soon after however, and looks you in your eyes before lifting his hands to your cheeks— “This okay?” he whispers, scanning your face with his soft eyes, as he lifts his hands back up to cup your cheeks. You nod, and you glance at his lips and back to his eyes, full of love, as always. You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you— his body between your legs that dangle off the edge of the counter. 

Just before your lips touch, foreheads resting against each other once more, you whisper sweetly to him, “I like you too, siempre lo hice (I always have),” both yours and Pedro’s lips are lightly brushing against each other as you feel him smile slightly. He runs his hands down your sides and finally lets them rest on your hips. He leans back in and places another soft kiss on your lips— but before too long into your next kissing session, the two of you feel a fluffy feeling separating the two of you from each other, and you both look down simultaneously after breaking the kiss— you see your cat finally awake from his early morning nap, only to cause another disruption between you and Pedro. 

The sight makes the two of you burst into giggles before Pedro rests his head into the crook of your neck before mumbling a gentle “We keep getting interrupted, huh?” into your ear, sending a slight chill up your spine. 

A light chuckle escapes your swollen lips, “Guess so,” you say before tangling one hand in his salt and peppered hair, the other still wrapped around his neck, hugging him closer to you. Though he doesn’t want to, he pulls back from your gasp and picks up your cat— giving him a few kisses before finally setting him down, causing him to run back, presumably to take a nap once more. He looks back up at you, giving you a small smile before walking back between your legs, with his honey-toned eyes full of kindness,  he cups your jaw sweetly, while brushing a few lost strands of your hair behind your ear once more. He kisses your forehead, making you blush for the millionth time today. 

In one swift motion, he picks you back up off the counter and lays one hand on your waist, and the other reaches for the radio to play your favorite playlist, which had ended hours ago. His hands slide down your body, to reach for your hands. He holds your hands gently in his— he starts dancing slowly to the sound of the music, “Dance with me, mi amor (my love),” he grins at you. You chuckle at his not-so-impressive dance moves, before finally giving in and swaying your hips with his, beginning to slow dance. 

The two of you spend the day listening to the sweet sounds of the radio, sharing kisses once and a while, and dancing throughout your apartment, forgetting about the cold food you cooked earlier that morning.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[eemcintyre]

Good Morning (Tom Cruise)

TW- none. Less than none.

Summary- Trying to make up for how busy he's been lately, Tom takes your daughter off your hands for the morning and obv cuteness ensues.

I stumbled randomly upon this picture on ye olde Pinterest and was immediately overtaken by my creative whims. I'm always a sucker for dad!Tom, and if you are too, then hopefully this will be an enjoyable read.

Children were the only thing that could have made Tom Cruise’s life more action-packed than it already was. He had discovered this firsthand a couple of years ago, when his and Y/N’s daughter, Indie, was born. Even though they had gotten past the initial stages of sleepless nights and teething by this point, Indie was now four and getting to the age where she needed a lot more stimulation and activity.

Over the last several days, Tom had practically lived in his home office. Due to an abundance of conference calls and other business negotiations, he was sorry to admit that he’d hardly been able to spend time with Y/N or his daughter. Though Y/N understood his obligations, he could tell that she was pretty exhausted. Even during breaks from her job, taking care of Indie on her own could be a lot to handle. Unsurprisingly, she had been born with her father’s daring, as well as his seemingly boundless energy, which was a deadly combination in a four-year-old.

But, this weekend, Tom had made certain that his schedule was clear. It was early Saturday morning, and he had decided to take Indie off of Y/N’s hands for a while so that she could sleep late. Being as quiet as possible, he jotted down a note explaining where they had gone. Placing the note on Y/N’s bedside table and pressing a soft kiss to her head, he took Indie out for a morning on the town. Strapping her into her car seat and cranking up some blues rock, they set off in the cherry-red Buick Roadmaster that he liked to break out on weekends.

Tom was pleased with how the morning had gone. First, they’d made a foray into one of the local parks where, between chasing her down when she tried to run off, Indie enjoyed being pushed on the swings and going down the tunnel slides. Then, after she had burned off a sufficient amount of energy, they ventured downtown for some breakfast items to take home. Gripping her little hand in his, Tom and Indie wandered the sun-drenched sidewalks past various brightly painted storefronts with lettering on the windows. Their main objective was to stop at a combination café and bakery where he and Y/N were known as regulars.

Nearing the counter, Tom had Indie in his arms so that she could see the full expanse of available pastries in the display case.

“Alright, darlin, what looks good?”

“Wan’ that one,” Indie replied, pointing to the iced donuts covered in rainbow sprinkles.

“And what do we say?” Tom glanced at her meaningfully.

“Please, can I have that one?”

“Yes ma’am, you may,” he grinned at Indie as the employee tending the counter approached.

“Mr. Cruise, hi there, what’ll it be this morning?”

“Hey, how are ya? The usual for my wife and I, and one of those rainbow donuts for the little lady,” he replied, glancing at Indie and bouncing her in his arms.

“You’ve got it. I’ll have the donut right out for you and those drinks will be done in a moment.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, they exited the café and continued on their journey while Indie munched on her donut. Her attention was soon captured by a flower stand outside one of the buildings, and with icing smudged across her fingers and face, she pulled away from Tom and ran toward it.

“Hey, sweetheart, c’mere,” he sighed as he quickly caught up with her. Kneeling so that he was at her level, he attempted to clean some of the icing off of her face and hands. “You look like a wild woman.” He shook his head, and she giggled.

As Indie admired the bouquets, sticking her face in to smell them, Tom thought it would be a fun idea to get some for Y/N. 

“Why don’t you pick out some flowers for Mom?” he suggested. “Which ones do you think she would like?”

Indie was quickly drawn to one of the bouquets with pink and purple flowers in it. It was a wildflower mix of cosmos, chamomile, hyacinth, lavender, and a single large sunflower.

“All right, good choice,” he nodded.

After they had paid, they made their way back to where his car was parked.

“Daddy, can I please hold them? Pleeeeeeaaaase,” Indie insisted, making grabby hands up at the flowers as he carried them. 

“Okay, but you have to be careful, sweetheart,” he cautioned her, watching out of the corner of his eye as they walked to make sure that the bouquet didn’t end up scraped and scattered across the sidewalk. Thankfully, it made it to the car intact.

They returned home in the Roadmaster, this time with Indie’s choice of The Wiggles playing. The second she was freed from the confines of the car seat, she was eager to run inside and pounce on Y/N.

“Ok, now Mom might still be asleep…” Tom warned her, placing a hand on her shoulder as they entered the house.

“Hello?” Just then, Y/N’s drowsy voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Mama!” Indie exclaimed, catapulting herself in that direction. Y/N, who was wearing a baggy, vintage university sweatshirt and pajama shorts, kneeled down to scoop her into a hug. Tom grinned at them from the kitchen entryway, and Y/N greeted him, glancing at the bouquet and tray of cups he held, her face lighting up.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, standing up and reaching toward the cups, recognizing the café logo. “Mm, love you.” She bestowed a peck on Tom’s cheek. “What’s this?” she focused in on the flowers.

“Indie picked them out for you,” he gestured to their daughter, who was already becoming preoccupied by the cat and how she might go about picking him up.

“Thank you, honey,” Y/N said, playfully tousling Indie’s hair.

“She did a nice job. She already has your artistic sensibilities,” Tom chuckled. “Or at least your obsession with pink.”

“Then I’m doing something right,” Y/N laughed.

“She thinks my cars are ugly and told me I should get a ‘Barbie pink’ one.”

Y/N shook from laughter. “Y’know, this kid has a lot of good ideas.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

#tom cruise #one shot #creative writing #fanfic #tom cruise fic #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise x reader #x reader #fanfiction #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise fluff #fluff #imagine #self insert #reader insert #just for fun

[greenbloodvulcan]

Logan runs into a certain passenger more than once. She gets under his skin.

A/N: I change POV’s based on vibes only so sorry if this is hard to read :( 

Word count: 3,427

It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing for him, had it just been that once. He’d have forgotten about her the very next day; his appreciation of both her silence and her relative sobriety level would have been no more than a fleeting observation. It would have continued on just the same. Dry heat, dust, drink, and a deep nothingness that blankets every second of every day. His life was never going to be fucking sunshine and rainbows; his DNA made damn sure of that. He bears it all for Charles- the monotony. The obnoxious passengers who reeked of drink more than he did; who slurred professions of love and insisted that, no, they did not need him to pull over, they hadn’t even had that much. He wasn’t sure who he found worse- the drunks or the socially inept who talked his ear off like he looked like someone who gave a shit. 

So it’s a relief when she slides into the backseat with mostly clear eyes and a small smile, meeting his gaze in the rearview. The smell of alcohol is faint, and though he’s parked outside a strip of bars at 11 at night, he notices the scrubs and the bag she tosses in beside her. He confirms her name and she nods with a soft “yes”. He waits until he hears the click of the seatbelt before pulling away from the curb, nothing but the radio and the hum of the engine surrounding them. She doesn’t tap away at her phone incessantly, feeling the need to feign busyness to fill the silence that is to be expected between two complete strangers. She just leans her head on the window, the bright lights of the nighttime landscape flashing across her face. He doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t ask him about his day or talk about how the weather is finally cooling down or something else equally as meaningless. He keeps his eyes on the road the rest of the drive, the same highway signs and landmarks he’s memorized fading in his periphery. 

It takes maybe 15 minutes to pull off the road into a small apartment complex. It’s dead silent at this hour, and she directs him to the left and points at a set of stairs beneath one of the light posts that actually works. “Right here is fine. Thank you-” she pauses and looks down at her phone, “Logan. I appreciate it.” He grumbles out a “sure” but her smile only widens before she pushes the door open and slides out. “Have a good night.” He nods at her and waits until she disappears up the landing and he hears a door close. It’s late, and he plans to drive another hour or two to avoid Caliban’s very personal questions and the concern in his voice for Charles that has Logan thinking back to a mansion filled with limp bodies and broken screams. He keeps driving. 

She sees him again two weeks later, by pure chance. The car she can’t afford to fix means it was bound to happen sooner or later. She’d gotten by the last month with bus rides at god forsaken hours of the morning and rideshares when she’d had her fill of sticky plastic seats, the smell of urine, and people who didn’t see anything wrong with having conversations on speaker in public. She can spare the few bucks most of the time- twice a week, sometimes three. Tonight is one of those nights. She didn’t think much of it when she ordered the ride, only putting the name to the face when she opens the door and sees the man with tired eyes, a rumpled shirt, and a rugged handsomeness she admonishes herself for noticing. “Oh hey. Again,” she greets, pulling her backpack onto her lap and hugging it to her chest. He raises his eyebrows at her and turns around in this seat again with a grunted hey. 

It’s much the same as the last time and the silence that settles is so blissful she’s surprised she doesn’t fall asleep. As she’s leaving she feels possessed to tell the man- Logan, that she hopes she gets him next time too. She doesn’t expect anything other than a one word response but he turns to look at her and a disbelieving chuckle escapes him. He runs a hand through his hair and eyes her with a scrutiny she’s not used to. They’re not quite green and not quite brown and it’s stupid to think because she doesn’t know him but she wonders what they’d look like without all that hurt. “And why is that?” he questions gruffly.  Ignoring the flush that she’s certain has risen to her face she speaks truthfully, “The quiet. It’s nice. Don’t get too much of that most days,” she replies, motioning to her scrub clad body. She sees his eyes focus on the badge clipped to her collar and he nods, “I fucking believe it.” He nods at her as he unlocks the door. “See you later,” she calls. “Maybe,” he replies. 

                                                            ---

“What, are you requesting me or something?” he asks incredulously. That earns him a laugh- a light and airy sound that he would have found strange, because it wasn’t that funny, but he’s picked her up outside a bar, and her eyes are glazed over and the smell is so much stronger than the first time. She must notice his weariness, because she’s leaning back in her seat with her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be good I promise,” she smiles at him then, and it’s so genuine he allows himself to believe her.  He tells her that she better not throw up with a grumble and she’s nodding, “Yes, Mr. Logan.” He sends her a look and pulls the car out of park. She keeps her promise the first 5 minutes. It’s so quiet and the road so familiar, he almost forgets about the stranger in his backseat. But then she’s breaking the silence, and her voice is no longer cheery and playful; she’s nearly whispering and her voice is cracking as she makes her inquiry, “Can I tell you something?” 

He wants to be rude and tell her he’s not a fucking psychiatrist and he’s honestly the last person anyone should want to have a heart to heart with but he doesn’t. She’s been perfectly nice to him and even if he had a habit of being an asshole more often than not nowadays, he knew she didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t meet her eyes in the rearview. “Go ahead, kid.”

“We lost someone today. And I just- I couldn’t stand the thought of just going home and being alone with it, you know? And it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last and maybe I should just be used to it by now but, I just can’t. And next year, I won’t be under someone, it’ll be my responsibility and only mine and I-” she’s crying now and he hears her trying hard to stifle the tears. “Anyway, that’s why I drank so fucking much. Sorry. God, I’m-” she falters and quiets lamely. 

His knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel and he’s thinking of a streak of white hair, and blue skin that’s turning a sickly gray and the woman he couldn’t have at the foot of the stairs and he knows that no amount of liquor can make you forget. “You don’t,” he says. “You don’t get used to it. Just get better at hiding it.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and she’s leaning forward now, her chin resting on the slope of the passenger seat. “I’ll just always feel responsible. Like I didn’t do enough.” 

He’s pulled into her lot when he finally turns and meets her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

                                                        ---

She’s too fucking embarrassed to risk seeing him again for several weeks. She knows very well how irrational she’s being, and she knows he must have dealt with far worse but she’s never been one to share the details of her life with near strangers. So she braves the bus and the noise and the smell and the headaches that plague her as a result. 

The next time she sees him, it isn’t in his car. She’s leaving the hospital, and like many third year residents, had survived on nothing but a granola bar and coffee. Her feet are aching and she briefly considers just going home but she’s got the appetite of a hungover undergrad so she stops in at the nearby diner. She’s greeted by the smell of pancake batter and bacon grease and for that she ignores the sticky table and water spotted silverware. She’s about to look around for a waitress when she sees him two booths away, staring very intensely at the coffee mug before him. His eyes suddenly meet hers and she raises her hand in a hesitant wave before looking away and flagging down the waitress. She’s a customer–an acquaintance really, so she’s surprised when she hears the shuffling of footsteps and he drops into the seat across from her. She meets his eyes and leans forward slightly, “I’m not following you I promise,” she tells him and that earns her a gruff laugh, “I’d hope you’d have better things to do. Doctor.” 

He’s different from every time before. Looser. His white collared shirt is unbuttoned and rolled at the sleeves, suit jacket abandoned. She notices for the first time just how imposing he is, all hard muscle and tan skin and eyes that seem to burn right through her. But they’re the slightest bit unfocused, and then his demeanor makes sense. “Yeah, just a thing or two,” she tells him with a smile. He surprises her again by asking if her day was better than the last time he saw her. She skips over more apologies, since he clearly isn’t bothered and she nods at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually. Thanks. It’s hard, you know. The ER. It’s people at their most vulnerable and someone’s life is literally in your hands and yes, it’s fast and it’s exhausting but, I love it. I really do,” she finishes, unable to help herself from smiling at the admission. Her plate is delivered then, and it takes everything in her to not inhale the pancake stack. Rather, she stabs at the eggs first and looks expectantly at the man before her, “What about you?”  

“Oh yeah, always wanted to be a driver. Nothing like it,” he answers. She rolls her eyes at his tone, “You’re just full of surprises tonight aren’t you. Who would’ve thought you were capable of making a joke.” 

He brings the mug to his lips, downing the remainder of the black coffee and leaning back into the red vinyl. He shrugs, “Shit happened and a move across the country made sense.” He’s looking down at the table, fingers tapping against the sticky laminate and she doesn’t miss the scars between his knuckles. They’re fresh, the skin still puckered and pink and it only adds to the mystery of the man before her. The one so dead set on hiding. She nods, but they both know she doesn’t buy it. “I’ll get it out of you, one day,” she replies, “I’m not known for quitting.” 

He huffs out a laugh, “It’s your mistake,” he responds, but those hazel eyes meet hers with a look she can’t quite place. She responds in kind, mimicking his shrug before cutting up the pancake stack before her. They sit in silence for a while and he looks incredibly amused at the enthusiasm with which she eats. She slouches down in her seat with a sigh when she finishes, “Wow I really fucking needed that.” 

He nods at her, “Gotta take care of yourself kid.” She raises her eyebrow at him indicating she could say the same thing about him and he shrugs again, “Yeah, fine. You win.” He gestures towards the window, “Going to head out.”

She smiles at him lightly, “You’ll likely see me again really soon,” she admits. “Car’s still busted.”

It’s when he stands up to go that she notices. He tries to keep his arm by his side, but it comes up to his torso just as he grits his teeth and winces. He brings his hand up to signal that he’s fine and she can stay seated but she’s standing in front of him and giving him a look that says that she knows better. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

He shakes his head and makes to move past her, “Nothing it’s fine.” She looks down at his shirt and then back up at him with a fierceness in her eyes, “The blood seeping through your shirt would suggest otherwise, Logan.” He’s about to open his mouth to protest but she grabs his calloused hand and pushes against his chest with her free hand,  keeping him in place. “You’re going to let me help because I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t. I don’t care what happened, just let me.” He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh knowing it’s a losing battle. The woman who barely cleared his shoulders wasn’t going to let it go. 

She leans down and slings her bag over her shoulder and motions toward the bathroom. There’s barely enough space in the dingy men’s room and it smells strongly of cheap air freshener and bleach. She pushes the toilet lid down with her foot and motions for him to sit before digging out the first aid kit from her bag and handing it to him while she scrubs her hands with several pumps of soap. “Of course you have one of these.”

She gives him a pointed look, “Never know when the mysterious chauffeur with a secret past is going to be bleeding out in the 24/7 diner.”

He’s taken his shirt off and suddenly she’s crouched between his knees, her brows furrowed. There’s a wound along his abdomen, maybe four inches long. The stitches he’d clearly done himself had split. But it’s not just that. His torso is a mirage of scars, both old and new–shiny pink strips that stand out from the rest of his tanned surface, the jagged edges pulling at his taught skin. Then she sees the rounded indentations and she’s been in the ER enough to know that they’re bullet holes and she pushes down the worry that is suddenly taking root in her chest. She can feel his eyes studying her, waiting for a reaction–for an explanation. She doesn’t give him one. 

He towers above her and is easily twice as wide, and for all his roughness, she can’t help but find him beautiful. She stands to get a stack of paper towels that she presses to his skin as gently as she can. “Sorry,” she murmurs when she feels him tense beneath her fingers. He feels like a furnace. “Hold that a sec.” She’s pulling out gloves, then scissors and tweezers. She pulls his hand away when the towels are soaked through. He closes his eyes as she starts to remove the old thread, and she somehow stays focused on the split skin and not the fact that she’s close enough to hear every change in his breathing and smell traces of cologne and whiskey. 

She doesn’t question him while she works and he’s grateful for it. She gives him a smile when she says, “The stitches weren’t even that bad, so good job.” He tries to relax, but he finds himself tensing at the feel of her fingers on his skin, the intimacy of it, however necessary it was, an almost foreign concept to him as of late. She keeps mumbling apologies anytime he does, like she’s the reason he’s got a knife wound. A few years ago, he might have said something crass about her position between his legs but now? Right now, he can’t fathom why she cares so much to begin with.

He lets his eyes fall to her face as she concentrates on threading the hooked needle. Some of her dark hair has escaped the knot at the nape of her neck and her tongue pokes out from between her lips as she works, her brows furrowed in concentration. She holds the suture in one hand while the other grabs hold of a small brown bottle. She meets his eyes apologetically. “This is going to sting.” He only nods as she pours it over the wound, clenching his teeth as he inhales. “Ok, this is going to feel worse but I’ll be as quick as I can,” she assures him. 

The dim yellow light from the flickering fixture above them has her squinting as she leans forward and braces her forearms above his knees. “I’ll be fine,” he tells her when she glances up at him with another apology. He closes his eyes as he feels the tugging on his skin, his fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. A few moments pass before she leans back and reaches for the dressing. “All done,” she announces, pressing the bandage down and removing her gloves. 

He stands and moves to re-button his shirt but she reaches down and pushes his bloody hands away. “Let me.” There’s barely three inches between them and he’s suddenly very aware of the heat from her skin and the way her nimble fingers seem to take longer than necessary working the buttons through. Then, her palms linger on his chest when she’s done and all he can smell is her perfume and all he can hear is his pulse between his ears. She’s peering up at him with those deep, dark eyes and she looks so innocent and kind and young–everything he is not. 

But she’s more than that; she’s fucking brilliant and dedicated and she spends her days pulling people from the brink of death so he doesn’t get why she’s looking at him that way. Why she’d seen all that she had in the last 20 minutes and still wants anything to do with him at all. He’s vague and defensive and she can’t have much of an idea of who he is at all and yet she’s still there, looking at him like that. 

It’s worse when she runs her thumb across the raised scar on his cheek and his eyes fall closed immediately and he almost forgets to breathe. His hand comes up to catch her wrist between calloused fingers and he wants to keep her from wasting any more time on him and his brain is screaming at him to just tell her no but he doesn’t. And it’s incredibly stupid because he knows how fucking terribly it always ends. Always. He drops her wrist and she catches his right hand, her thumb passing gently along the scars between his knuckles. It’s intoxicating- the feel of her skin on his and god its been so long. Her head is bowed as she maps out the scar tissue on the back of his hand and she’s so incredibly gentle and seemingly awestruck when her eyes meet his again that he feels his stomach drop because he wishes so badly that she didn’t care. That he didn’t. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. She smiles at him lightly, and he’s confused by the sadness that seems to overtake her features. “You’re so much more than I ever could have hoped, Logan. Please know that.” He decides then that his name on her lips is his new favorite sound. He almost opens his mouth to protest but he knows it will only upset her so he stays quiet. She drops his hand and then she has both palms on his chest again and soft lips against his cheek and he lets himself savor the proximity and the warmth and the scent of vanilla that surrounds her. He catches her waist before she can step away and her hands slide upwards to meet behind his neck. He bows his head to rest against her forehead and it takes all his restraint to not kiss her until she’s breathless. That soft, sweet smile has returned to her face and her dark eyes are shining. It’s almost enough to make him forget the grimy bathroom they’re standing in. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” she whispers and he feels his lips pull up at the corners before he can stop it. 

He drives her home in his passenger seat. 

#logan #logan2017 #wolverine #thewolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #old man logan #old man logan x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett angst #old man logan fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel comics #marvel #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #old man logan imagines #old man logan imagine #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett imagines #xmen fandom #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen imagines #xmen

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday

Tagged by the always fantastic @exhuastedpigeon, @spotsandsocks, @jeeyuns, @hippolotamus, @theotherbuckley, @wikiangela and @disasterbuckdiaz. Thank you all so much! I look forward to all your fics!

Putting the fuck in fuck-it friday with some angst today from NFL Buck. Hope you all enjoy!

The first time Eddie and Evan went past the stage of making out with some light grinding, Evan was on his knees and showing Eddie his skills beyond the football field. He was like a teenager again, bumbling movements that had him almost poking Buck's eye out, trying to decide what to do with his hands. And then coming down the younger man's throat without warning in just a few short minutes. To top it all off, the high of his orgasm quickly bled into a full blown panic attack. Eddie didn't return the favor that evening. Instead he stumbled his way into the bathroom, pants and underwear around his ankles and his father's voice screaming in his head. A man shouldn't be letting another man suck his dick. He shouldn't have enjoyed it. A lone blowjob shouldn't have felt better than anything he ever did with Shannon. He isn't gay. Thank god Evan kept a pin to the bathroom lock above the door, otherwise Eddie knew the quarterback would have busted down the door himself. Screw getting his deposit back. After going though a handful of breathing techniques that Evan learned from his own therapist, Eddie left. Two days later Buck broke up with him. Less than 24 hours after that, Eddie was watching gleefully as Evan smothered himself with a pillow muting his moans of pleasure so not to wake the toddler that slept just down the hall. Eddie finally returned the favor with a very sloppy, but enthusiastic blowjob of his own and he swallowed every last drop of Evan's cum. Evan licked the taste of himself out of Eddie's mouth afterwards, and not a trace of panic followed. Instead, Eddied buried his own gasps and grunts into Buck's shoulder as he thrusted his leaking cock into his boyfriend's hand. He lasted a little longer this time around and reveled in the orgasmic bliss mixed with the sting of the hickeys Evan left down his throat. "Can I stay?" Evan asked in the quiet of their post carnal come down. Eddie didn't even hesitate, "Always."

This fic won't have a lot of smut, but its always fun to sprinkle a little here and there. I also wanted to put some of Eddie's journey to be where he is when he gets to the 118. Hope you all enjoyed. If you want to see more NFL Buck, just go here.

Tagging (no pressure): @fortheloveofbuddie @forthewolves @giddyupbuck @ladydorian05 @devirnis @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @thekristen999 @lizzybizzyzzz @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @monsterrae1 @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @rogerzsteven @eowon @911onabc @911-on-abc @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @brokenribsdiaz @buck-coded @bvckandeddie @housewifebuck @transbuck @elvensorceress @glorious-spoon @bigfootsmom @eddiediaztho @buddierights @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz

#fuck it friday #tag game #my wip #911 fox #911 abc #911 show #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #repressed eddie #gay eddie #panic attack #smut #angsty buck #break up #gay panic