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kaijutegu · 4 months

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Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

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It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

#reptiblr #alligator #crocodile #Youtube

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empresskylo · 7 months

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➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water.

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go.

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep.

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained.

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves.

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly.

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that.

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price.

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon.

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building.

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this.

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair.

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in.

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing.

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream.

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall.

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing.

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought.

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind.

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound.

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone.

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you.

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic.

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering.

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack.

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell.

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him.

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat.

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan.

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body.

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you.

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare.

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them .

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came.

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise.

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in.

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before.

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction.

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself.

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair��felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory.

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support.

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time.

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin.

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time.

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful.

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life.

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well.

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you.

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements.

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all.

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast.

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever?

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him.

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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godslino · 3 months

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PIECE BY PIECE | minho first date series. friends to lovers.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 6.2k genre: college au, mutual pining, fluff, angst warnings: drinking, referenced injury (very minor) summary: minho, on a drunken whim, asks you out on a date.

a/n: finally!! the minho part!! i’ve been sooo excited about this one since i first got the idea. i hope you guys enjoy! once again any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading <3

“Dude, I think it’s clean.”

Minho looks up from where he’s scrubbing the counter, eyes narrowed. So what if it’s his third time going over every surface in the kitchen?

“Are you going to help me or are you just gonna sit there and make more crumbs?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag of chips in his lap crinkling. “I’m just saying. You’re acting like she’s never seen the place before.”

That’s the problem. You’ve seen his place. Minho has to stop the shudder that threatens to overtake his body at the thought.

“So you’re not helping? Great. Get out.”

“I live here!” Jeongin whines. “Why do I have to get out? You can’t banish me like this.”

“I can and I will. Now leave. I have two hours to make sure everything is ready and I am not going to vacuum for a fourth time.”

“Yes mom,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he unfolds his legs from underneath him.

He stops just short of the kitchen counter, points an accusatory finger at Minho’s disheveled figure still hunched over an imaginary stain.

“For the record, Chan hyung would never do this to me. He loves my crumbs.”

Minho throws the scrub daddy at him.

🏠

The night it happens, all it takes is approximately three shots and a pep talk from Hyunjin for Minho to finally find the nerve to ask you out.

“You’ve got this,” the younger boy says, words slurred, his hands steady on both Minho’s shoulders. The bass thumps loud in the other room, drowned out by the walls of the kitchen until it’s nothing but garbled nonsense going in one of his ears and out the other, vibrations low in his chest.

“I’ve got this.” Minho repeats, the thrum of alcohol already spreading to his fingertips. He feels warm, light on his feet. His limbs are starting to loosen up and his insides are turning to jelly. He might even be floating.

“You look hot.”

“I look hot.”

“She’s gonna say yes.”

“You’re gonna venmo me twenty dollars.”

“I’m gonna venmo you twenty dollars.” Minho parrots before he can even process what he’s saying. Changbin, who’d been watching the entire thing unfold from where he stands with his back pressed against the sink, snorts.

“Wait, what the f—”

“Go get her!” Hyunjin screams, pushing him through the door of the kitchen with one last pat on the back, “And send me my money!”

Minho stumbles over himself, just barely able to stop in time before he goes crashing into a group of people. The living room is crowded: there’s furniture pushed up against the walls, bodies pressed front to back in the middle of the floor, a makeshift DJ stand in the corner where Chan is controlling the music from his laptop, drink in hand. Minho catches his eye from across the room, the glow of the LEDs reflecting off the toothy grin he shoots his way, dimples on full display.

“Hey!” Minho feels someone grab his arm, and he turns to find you staring up at him. “Where’d you go? You said you were gonna get a drink.”

Minho follows your eyes down to where you’re staring at his empty hands. “I—uh, well. I ran into Hyunjin and we took a few shots.”

The pout you give him does nothing but spur on the fluttering of his chest, his brain still hyper aware of the way your hand was resting on his elbow. “Shots? I want shots!” you whine, and Minho has to avert his gaze from staring at your lips when your pout only worsens.

“How much have you had?” he tries to ask over the music. There’s a shitty pop song playing, high pitched and wonky. If he remembers in the morning, he’ll make sure he berates Chan about his DJ-ing abilities.

“What?” you scream back, tiptoeing to bring your mouth closer to his ear.

Minho is only a man. A man who's been in love with you since the moment you accidentally spilled your coffee all over Hyunjin in the quad during freshman year. He remembers that day well, remembers the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted. He also remembers the way he wished it was him with the large wet stain on his shirt, that way it was him that was offered to have his lunch bought as an apology.

He’d never admit it, but sometimes really late at night, when the moon is high in the sky and he’s feeling oddly sentimental, he counts his lucky stars that Hyunjin had been in a relationship at the time. Minho doesn’t know what he would’ve done had he been forced to watch the two of you hit it off—some form of arson, presumably. Anything to take the edge off. But because of the fact that Hyunjin was not trying to have his head cut off by said girlfriend at the time, he invited Minho along as some sort of collateral damage. That’s when the two of you became friends. Kind of perfect if you ask him.

With the jumbled mess of butterflies in his stomach that he gets whenever you’re near him, and the threat of the alcohol slowly seeping through his skin, his brain short circuits the minute your breath grazes the shell of his ear. When your hand follows not long after, fingers gripping the nape of his neck to hold him in place, he almost passes out.

“Min? What’d you say?”

Minho is rendered completely useless by you. Absolutely ruined. Your existence has thrown his entire plan to woo you off course and now his mouth is opening and closing like a badly programmed robot. Pathetic. Nuts and bolts for brains.

By the grace of God (or some other higher being that Minho’s never bothered to believe in until this very moment) he finds his voice, but not before you’re pulling back with a confused look on your face.

“I asked how much you’ve had to drink,” he says, straining against the music.

A saccharine sweet grin that has him seeing stars spreads across your face, “Not enough!”

Minho is not an enabler. Never has been, never will be. There was one time, back in that fateful freshman year that also introduced the two of you, that he let Hyunjin get blackout drunk. A terrible decision on his end, if the earful he got from Chan the next morning was anything to go by. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was finding remnants of the resulting hacking session for the following week. So yeah, never again.

But while Minho isn’t an enabler, he is smitten, and the way your hand feels wrapped around his wrist as you drag him into the kitchen has his soul threatening to leave his body. He thinks that maybe he could do anything as long as you asked. He also hopes you can’t feel the way his pulse is rabbiting beneath his skin, right under the press of your thumb.

“There’s, like, nothing here.” you say as you rummage through the cupboard near the window, nose scrunched and a frown on your face.

Minho laughs, rounds the kitchen island to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink. “That’s because you don’t know where to look,” he smirks, pulling out a fresh bottle of tequila. “Also, Chan hyung is greedy. He knows people like you will go scavenging his supply if he isn’t careful.”

“I resent that.” you frown, taking the bottle from him. “Besides, people like me deserve to have fun too.”

“Mhm, sure.” Minho says, grabbing a solo cup. He holds his hand out for the bottle, pours just the right amount before sliding it over and following it up with a can of coke.

“A man after my heart.” you joke, holding your cup up to him in a mock toast before downing it in one go. Minho watches with so much focus, fighting against the way his head spins. He doesn’t even know if it’s the alcohol anymore, it might just be the effect you have on him. Dizzying—you flip his entire world on its axis in the best way possible.

Minho’s gonna be seeing your exposed neck in his dreams later, he’s sure of it—it’s branded into his memory.

“That…is so fucking bad.” you giggle, holding your cup out. “Another one.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeee Min,” the lilt in your voice sounds oddly familiar. Minho holds his breath just in case you—yup. There it is. There goes that pout again.

It’d be so easy for him to lean down and kiss it right off your lips. He could blame it on the alcohol, maybe, but then that takes away from how he actually means it.

He sighs instead. “It’s gonna cost you.”

“An arm and a leg?”

“What? No—I meant some water.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Three shots and a full bottle of water later, Minho knows you’ve hit your limit. Cheeks flushed pink, a dopey grin on your face, pupils blown wide. Even in this state, Minho is certain that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Anotherrrr,” you slur, waving your cup in his face.

Minho shakes his head. “No can do. You’re cut off.”

“Please,” you whine, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I’ll do anything.”

Minho, completely taken back by the sudden closeness of your body to his, freezes.

“Anything?” he asks before he can stop himself.

This is stupid. You’re drunk. There’s no way you’re going to remember anything in the morning, much less within the next thirty minutes. He’s pretty sure that you’ll lose control of all your senses soon, which is why he’s already texted your roommate Jiwoo to unlock the door so he can carry you inside. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“Anything,” you repeat, eyes going cross-eyed where they’re fixing on the mole he has at the tip of his nose.

This is stupid. But then again, so is Minho. A big, stupid fool that blames everything on the fact that he’s so in love with you it hurts. This might be the only chance he gets to shoot his shot.

Minho takes a deep breath, says something similar to a little prayer that’s more like Hey, if anyone’s listening, help a guy out, and hopes that the twenty bucks he sent Hyunjin works.

“Go on a date with me.” he says slowly, wincing when your eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

Well, there’s really no going back from that. The only thing that could possibly grant him redemption now is banking on the fact that you don’t remember anything in the morning.

Minho waits with bated breaths, watches as your eyes search his for a long while. He waits for the anger, the disgust, the visible repulsion that he starts to think might happen the longer the silence continues.

He’s about to backtrack, quickly conjuring up an excuse about how Oh, haha, gotcha! when your hands suddenly drop from his shoulders. You grab the cup, your chin tipped upwards, and hold it out for him to fill.

“Okay.”

“O…kay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Pour me another one.”

The next morning, when Minho all but drags himself into the kitchen in search of water and something to soothe the throbbing in his head, he nearly spits a mouthful at Jeongin, the poor guy too busy eating his cereal to realize he’s gotten a front row seat in the splash zone.

Y/N [10:34am]

when do you want to do that date?

🏠

Are candles too much?

Minho has options: clean linen, lavender breeze, ocean mist, warm vanilla. He really just needs something to get rid of the smell of cleaning spray.

He thought that having a night in for a first date would be ideal—less pressure, no unwanted attention, a bathroom that he can run into when he starts to hyperventilate if you smile at him for too long. But now that it’s happening, he’s convinced that every surface of his and Jeongin’s shared apartment will scare you away if anything so much as looks off-putting.

Minho is, to put it simply, freaking out. All the other times you’ve been over to his place were on a completely platonic level. Movie nights with all the other guys in tow, dropping off food that you felt generous enough to buy every once in a while, one time because you’d accidentally worn Minho’s jacket home from a party and needed to return it to him.

But this is different. This is a date. Minho’s not dreaming—he already pinched himself a dozen times in the bathroom mirror, tiny red marks on the inside of his forearm to prove it. He’s going to open the door, invite you in, cook for you, and then proceed to resist the urge to tell you how beautiful you are for however long the night continues on after that. He can practically hear Jeongin’s laugh in the back of his head, sneering at how pathetic his inner monologue sounds right now.

He needs to find another stain to scrub.

By the time you’re knocking on his door, Minho has changed his outfit seven times. Sweats were too casual, a button up was too fancy. Should he not have done his hair? No, that’s just lazy, the way his fringe is swept up and out of his forehead adds a nice touch that doesn’t scream Hey! I’m trying to woo you! You’ve never been the type to be impressed by grand gestures and shows of confidence anyways, he knows that well.

One time, when a guy from one of the frat houses hired the campus quartet to sing a song for you in the quad as he stood there with big beady eyes and a bouquet of roses in his hand, you’d all but ran from the scene, Minho following close behind as you called out to him over your shoulder. It’s one of his fondest memories. As soon as the two of you made it around the back of the science building, you’d doubled over in laughter, the both of you in disbelief at what had happened. Minho has had that information tucked into the deepest parts of his brain ever since, saved just in case he needed it.

(Later that night, in the safety of his own bed, he’d laughed maniacally at the situation. Something about watching you reject another guy filled him with a sense of joy he couldn’t explain. He just hoped he was never going to be on the receiving end of it.)

He does a quick once over of the kitchen: double checks that all the ingredients are out, blows a speck of dust off the glass stovetop, spins the tiny floral arrangement he bought so that it’s sitting at just the right angle. When the doorbell rings, the chime bouncing off the walls of the apartment, he visibly pales.

He has to reel it in, to remember that it’s just you. You might not even be here with any intentions other than to fulfill your end of the deal; one date in exchange for the extra three shots he poured you the other night. Minho takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob with conviction, and decides that he’s determined to show you the way you deserve to be treated. The opportunity is there, and he’s gonna take it.

As soon as the door swings open, every nerve that had somehow crept its way into his brain disappears, the sight of you standing on the other side immediately sending the anxiety scrambling and replacing it with fondness instead.

“Hi,” you smile, and Minho sees images of you coming home to his apartment flash across his mind. After class, after work, in the winter when it’s cold and your nose is tinted pink, on rainy days where the ends of your hair are damp and you have a wet umbrella in tow. He could get used to it. He’s so in love that it hurts.

“Hey,” he breathes out, stepping aside to make way for you, “Come in. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Been saving myself all day since I don’t always get to have your cooking.” You hop on to one of the stools, your attention momentarily stolen by the flower arrangement. One point for Minho.

I’d cook for you every day, he wants to say. But that’s weird, right? So instead, “Well then I guess today is your lucky day.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” You say softly.

Minho can’t see you with the way his back is turned, hands moving to grab out the knife and cutting board, but if he could he’d see the way your eyes are staring softly at his back, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Conversation flows easily after that, despite Minho’s original worries about it being awkward. You’re not necessarily treating it as a date, and he isn’t really either. It feels more like a glorified hangout, just the two of you spending time together with the added glances and smiles that normally wouldn’t be there.

Minho finds it easy to get lost in you. He finds himself craving to know more about your day, about the things that’ve been on your mind lately and the hobbies you’ve picked up. Most of the conversation is a continuation of stuff that’s fallen through the cracks during the times you see each other, but he doesn’t miss the way you ask about him too, your eyes shining with genuine interest. It makes his heart slam against his ribcage.

“How are your cats doing?”

Minho looks up from the cutting board, follows your gaze to where it’s fixed on the scattered pictures that litter his fridge. “They’re good,” he says, smiling down at a head of garlic, “My mom sends pictures all the time. She says they claw at the door to my room when they miss me.” He smashes the garlic under the knife’s blade by hitting it with the heel of his palm. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Minho, in a very flashy demonstration of what it means to be cool, calm, and collected, slices his thumb mid-chop.

“Shit.” he mutters, dropping the knife.

It’s not that bad, just a little nick, the surprise was mostly what scared him. He probably doesn’t even need a bandaid. But despite how small it is, nothing stops you from hurriedly walking up to him and taking his hand in yours, his thumb held closely to your face for inspection.

“Are you okay?” You turn his hand over between your fingers, the soft pads of them against his calloused ones. Minho is dumbfounded, struggling to find the words to say.

“Yeah—um, it’s fine. My fault. I was distracted.” He stammers out, pulling his hand back and holding it up. He wiggles his fingers, making a show of bending and twisting his thumb that, at most, has just a small cut on the side. “See? Perfect.”

Your face relaxes, and then you’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Either Minho looks like a complete idiot or he’s suddenly the funniest person in the world for being clumsy and reckless and almost ruining the night by losing a finger. Whichever one it is, he doesn’t care, as long as he gets to hear that sound again.

“Let me help cook, please? I know you said you would do it all but clearly you’re a threat to the integrity of this meal.” You say, bumping your hip against his to move him away from the cutting board.

Minho scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t catch me off guard.”

“So what? You admit that I make you flustered?”

Oh.

Minho wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the—the flirting that’s clearly happening. You’re flirting with him, right? Why else would you have called him cute or given him that suspicious side eye after you asked that question?

You and Minho have joked around like this before, but it was always empty with no real feelings attached—as far as he could tell. You’re a naturally friendly person, getting along with others comes easy to you. He’s seen the way you talk to the other guys and has always just assumed he was no different in your eyes than they were. Sure, there were moments where maybe your hand lingered on his arm for a little while after he made you laugh, or the two of you would steal glances across the room. Sometimes when Hyunjin said something stupid you’d both catch the other’s eye and make a face, just another funny way of proving that you were both on the same wavelength most of the time. It’s kind of why Minho is so taken with you—he’s never met anyone that gets him the same way.

Reluctantly, Minho puts his pride aside and allows you to help. And as it turns out, you’re actually really good at cooking. Minho doesn’t have to instruct you much, and before he knows it you’re both working like a well-oiled machine, scooting past one another as you switch places between the stove and the sink, reading each other’s minds without even having to ask.

“Taste this.” You say, holding the spoon up to his mouth. Minho leans forward, front teeth poking out, and brings the spoon into his mouth. You cup your hand under his chin to catch any droppings, watching in anticipation as he smacks his lips together.

His eyes light up, big and brown and twinkling under the light of the kitchen. “Perfect.” He smiles.

“Oh you have—uh,” you stop him with a hand on his forearm just as he’s about to turn back to the sink, your other hand hovering next to his face hesitantly, “It’s just, um, your—here.”

Minho’s eyes go wide when your thumb swipes against the corner of his mouth, your touch feather light. It’s so intimate, the only sound being the music playing low from the speaker on the counter. He’s half convinced that you’re able to hear his heartbeat, blood pumping loud in his ears.

“You had some sauce…on your face.” You say shyly, your palm still pressed to his cheek.

“…Oh.”

Minho’s never really looked into your eyes from this close up before. He’s always known they were beautiful, the shape of them soft, full of nothing but the world. He can see himself in them from here, and, selfishly, he hopes you can see yourself in his, too.

He might be imagining it when your gaze flicks down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but there’s no time to unpack any of that when the sauce starts bubbling over the edge of the pot, spilling on to the burner as loud sizzling and smoke fills the kitchen.

It’s chaos. The bottom of the pot is burnt and there’s only so much of it that’s salvageable. He only bought the exact amount of ingredients too, because this is a self-proclaimed no-food-waste household (as explicitly stated in the napkin contract he has with Jeongin, much to his dismay). So, hooray for conscious consumption of goods!

At the end of it all, there’s no one to blame. You’re both guilty of…whatever that was.

Minho tries to reassure you that it’s okay as he dials the number for the pizza place just down the street, simultaneously shutting down all your attempts to pay as an apology. It doesn’t matter to him, he’d do anything as long as it means he gets to spend time with you. At the end of the day, it’s another memory that he’ll hold close to his heart.

“Listen,” you say, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza, the both of you seated on his couch with a half-eaten box of pizza open on the coffee table, “I know you wanted to cook and all—which, by the way, I’m still sorry—but this is so good. However I’m sure whatever you made would’ve been better.”

Minho chuckles. “Stop lying,” he wipes his hands on a napkin, “I can guarantee you that whatever I cooked wouldn’t be as good as this anyways.”

“Stop selling yourself short, Min. You’re good at everything you do.”

The words fall from your lips so easily, like it’s something you’ve convinced yourself of long ago. Minho’s never been the type to bounce around from one thing to another, always choosing to stick with it until he has it down to a science. Cooking is one of them. Jeongin can attest to all the times Minho has berated him with tasting his latest dishes, chasing him around the apartment with a spoon. The words tighten themselves around his heart.

“I’m not,” he rolls his eyes, “But nine times out of ten, grease and mozzarella cheese are gonna win. I know that for a fact.”

You laugh, and the conversation gradually diverts into a debate about the top ten best greasy foods in existence. You’re heated, half kneeling on the couch with a finger pointed at him as you plead your case for onion rings, when your eyes go past Minho’s head and settle on the shelf of games in the hallway.

“You have games?” you ask, suddenly giddy with excitement as you hurry over to inspect the selection.

Minho watches with fond eyes, collects the plates and napkins to throw away. “Yeah, most of them are Innie’s. We don’t really use them. Sometimes when we’re drunk, other times when we’re bored and decide to wager money for fun.”

You hum, not really paying attention. Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, some decks of cards, Uno—you scan the shelf until your eyes light up at what you find hidden at the bottom.

“Min! Can we play Jenga?”

“Jenga?” Minho asks, re-entering the living room. The coffee table is clear now, and he sits between it and the couch, his back against the cushion. “Isn’t that kind of boring? We have other stuff there.”

“It’s only boring if you play it the way it’s supposed to be played.” You roll your eyes. Minho turns to you when you situate yourself on the floor beside him and only momentarily contemplates running to the bathroom when your knee knocks against his. He’s been holding it together pretty well so far, however The Sauce Incident had him ready to book it if anything had gone further.

“Well how else are we supposed to play it?” He frowns.

“We make up our own rules.”

The pieces scatter across the wood of the coffee table, clacking as you diligently begin putting them together. “This is a date, right?” You ask, stopping for a moment to turn and assess his response.

Minho stills. He genuinely forgot the grounds on which tonight had even happened in the first place. Spending time with you makes him forget everything else. And, despite his fears in the beginning, being on a date with you has felt so natural that it almost seems like you’ve done it a thousand times before.

Your eyes meet. For a moment, Minho lets himself wonder what it’d be like if he went for it right then and there. “Yeah,” he says slowly, unblinking, hoping you can see the sincerity on his face, “A date. One of the best ones I’ve ever been on, actually.”

He almost cries out in victory when your face flushes pink. “Now who’s a liar?” You ask quietly, going back to piecing together the game.

Minho has learned something new tonight: he really likes seeing you flustered.

“Why do you ask?” he decides to cut you the slack, “Or what does this being a date have to do with Jenga rules?”

He waits as you finish the stack, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You’re so cute. Minho mentally pockets that image for safe keeping.

“Sorry, okay, it’s done. But basically, if we pull out a block, we get to ask the other person a question.”

“And if the tower falls…?”

“Hmm,” you think for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Oh! I know. If you lose you have to tell me why you asked me on a date.”

Minho’s stomach flips. “Okay. If you lose you have to tell me why you accepted the date.”

Something unreadable passes over your face, but it’s gone in an instant. You hold your hand out for a shake, and Minho wraps his fingers around it gently.

“Deal.”

“Why are you taking all of the middle pieces?” Minho pouts.

The two of you have gone through a couple turns by now, throwing out random questions for the better half of fifteen minutes. Favorite colors, childhood foods you wouldn’t eat, the best memory you have from high school. Minho’s learned a lot, has fallen for you a lot more. But that was always a given. It’s impossible not to when he can feel the warmth from your body where you’re seated next to him, your presence overtaking all of his senses.

“Because I’m trying to win,” you laugh, putting your freshly pulled piece at the top. Just a little crooked, too. To piss him off. “Favorite movie?”

“Ponyo. Easy. My turn.”

“Seriously? Why Ponyo?”

“One question at a time, princess.”

He means it as a joke, really. He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until after the fact, the nickname making your heart skip a beat. Minho notices, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as he suppresses a smile. He manages to flick one of the side pieces until it gives way.

“What’s one thing you regret?”

“Ooh, getting deep I see.” You laugh, taking a sip of your soda. There’s a long pause, and then, “I regret spilling my coffee on Hyunjin that day.”

Minho’s brow furrows. You…regret it? He runs through all the possible reasons in his head. Surely it can’t be because you regret becoming friends with them, friends with him, right?

“Why?” He chances.

“One question at a time, princess.” You echo, laughing at his shocked expression.

You remove the last middle piece. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our first date?”

Minho’s brain is going a thousand miles a minute. “A ten. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He says it fast, wastes no time in moving forward to remove his own piece. He doesn’t even notice that your cheeks have gone pink again, too busy itching to ask his next question.

“Why do you regret spilling your coffee on Hyunjin?”

Minho watches you, lets his mind wander to the worst possible thing you could say in this situation, and mentally prepares to book it to the bathroom.

You take a deep breath, “I regret it because I wasn’t supposed to spill it on him. I was supposed to spill it on you.”

Wait, what?

Minho blinks. “What are you talking about?”

This is humiliating for you. A terrible thing to have to admit. Up until this moment, you’d thought that this information would follow you to your grave. You press the heel of your palms to your eyes, “This is so embarrassing,” you groan.

Minho pulls one hand away. He’s not really sure what to say, mostly because he’s confused, but, “You can tell me.”

“I had…” you start, looking up at him slowly, “A plan. With Jiwoo.” Minho nods for you to continue. “I’d seen you and Hyunjin walking through the quad a few times, and I thought that you were cute, but I didn't know how to approach you. So I did something stupid and decided that I would literally just crash into you. But I fucked it up.”

I thought that you were cute. The words echo in Minho’s ears like a bell. All this time, all those stolen glances and lingering touches, all the ways you would make hope spike in his chest that maybe you felt the same—they were real.

“So you, wait—” Minho shakes his head, “So you’re telling me that all this time…”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Min, really. All this time.”

Minho’s never been skydiving, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. Free falling—his soul hurtling towards earth at a horrifying speed, slamming back into his body right here in his living room with a force so strong it would knock him off his feet if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. You were interested in him first.

Wordlessly, you lean forward, pulling out a piece with practiced ease. Minho waits with bated breaths.

“Can I kiss you?”

Minho feels like he might pass out. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“You didn’t pull out a piece.”

He scrambles forward, clumsily nudging a piece on the side that ends up sending the entire tower toppling over. You smile at him, soft and sweet. “Looks like you have to pay up with an answer. You know, since you lost.”

Minho doesn’t care. “Because I like you,” he breathes out, “I asked you on a date because I like you. I like you so much, ever since I saw you that day. And, funnily enough, I’ve always wished you’d spilled that coffee on me instead, too.”

The confession feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s spent so long pining after you, laying awake at night thinking about how this would go down if he ever got the chance. He never expected for it to happen like this, much less for you to possibly feel the same.

Panic slowly starts to rise in his chest when you don’t respond. He watches as you reach an arm over, build a small tower out of a few pieces, and then knock it over. You turn to him with a small smile, “Oops, I lost too.”

Minho is so in love with you that it hurts.

“I accepted the date because I like you, Minho. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

He doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward, cupping your face with one hand and kissing you with a tenderness that has you melting into his touch.

There’s no fireworks behind his eyes, no big bang or grand display of whatever it is that happens in the movies. But there’s a warmth, it starts out small in the center of his chest and spreads throughout his entire body, lights his skin aflame and travels all the way to his fingertips. You’re like that. A gentle presence, someone who worms their way into the very essence of his being and burrows into the deepest parts of him, like it was never his to begin with. Kissing you is slow, and deep, and right. He wouldn’t want it any other way. Minho doesn’t ever want to stop.

He lets his other hand fall to your waist, pulls you closer until you’re practically straddling him with his back against the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. Minho lets out a long, drawn out groan when you tilt his head back farther, his lips parting and allowing you to lick inside of his mouth. It’s so good. So good. He can’t believe he ever lived without knowing what this felt like; lived without ever having you this close before.

After a while, Minho reluctantly pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. When he looks up, your eyes are half-lidded. You look utterly debauched, cheeks pink and lips swollen from how hard they’d been pressed against his own. “We should probably slow down.” He tries hard to convince himself, too. “Talk about it all, you know? I don’t—this isn’t a one time thing for me. I don’t want it to be. I like you. I want you to know that.” He says softly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You lean into his hand, smiling when he flattens his palm to let your head rest there. “You’re like, so perfect that I want to kiss you until you forget your own name.”

Minho’s ears go red, his head falling forward until it rests against your collarbone. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes you laugh and run a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck fondly.

“This is gonna be so bad now that you say stuff like that.”

“Bad? No, I think it’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he whines, but there’s no bite to it. Not when he can look up and press a kiss to your lips. A dream come true. The entire world in his hands, exactly where it was always meant to be.

🏠

In the morning, when Jeongin comes back home, one hand covering his eyes just in case, he calls out,

“Everyone better be dressed! Or else I’m ripping up that napkin and making a new one with No fornicating on the furniture added into the fine print.”

When he doesn’t get a response, he rounds the corner, and finds the two of you nestled into the couch. Minho’s back is pressed into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sends a quick text to Hyunjin that reads: Negative. Clothes are still on. But they’re so cute it’s almost sickening.

He snaps a picture to send to the group chat, grabs a piece of cold pizza, and retreats to his room.

Yang Jeongin Fanclub

jeongin: [Attachment: 1 image]

chan: AWWWWWWW

jiwoo: i’m gonna cry

changbin: dude is that the good pizza from down the street?

hyunjin: FINALLY

hyunjin: wait

hyunjin: does this mean i have to send back his $20?

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie ]

#lee know x reader #first date series : minho #lee know fluff #lee know angst #skz x reader #lee know fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know fic #skz fic #lee know fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #lee know #godslino #first date series

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muchlovekatia · 10 days

Text

✧ ˚ · . 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄.. 🎶 —

˗ˏˋ꒰ muchlovekatia ꒱

.ೃ࿐ . .

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔹

theo nott x reader: ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the lipstick trend ( on tiktok )

〰️

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

as soon as you said yes, theo shot out of bed and sauntered to your vanity, picking out a lipstick and forcing you to swatch it on your hand so he could see all the different colors and choose his favorite one. after much trial and error, he settled on a rich and deep red you didn't particularly wear but he absolutely loved on you, and pulled you closer.

"sit," your boyfriend demanded softly, smiling giddily. you rolled your eyes, grinning and huffing a laugh as you climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips, allowing him free access to your face. he lightly grabbed your chin and angled it down so he could swipe the crimson across your lips, his free hand on your thigh. up close, you could see a dust of light and occasional freckles scattered here and there across his face, his eyes so extraordinarily blue. "so pretty. you should wear this one more often," he commentated as he closed the cap and abandoned the tube on the desk.

you turned your head and inspected his job in the mirror, which was, surprisingly, not too bad. "who taught you how to put on lipstick, huh, theo?" you joked, turning back and lightly pecking his cheek, which transferred the red. he breathed a laugh. "been practicing for this?"

"i thought it was obvious."

you grabbed his chin, angling his face away from you and moving it as you kissed and kissed, leaving marks in your wake. his hands pulled you closer by the waist, and he hummed as you circled down to the corners of his mouth, his grip tightening. when you felt you were done, you pulled back, grinning widely. "my pretty boy." you left one kiss at his temple for extra measure and grabbed your phone from your pocket, opening tiktok.

"alright, you ready?"

he watched you find the audio, pecking your forehead and humming an approval.

"ready," he confirmed.

"okay, then." you uncapped the lipstick with one hand and shifted on his lap, so you sat facing the mirror. pressing the record button, the sound came to a start and you reapplied the slightly-faded red onto your lips again and made sure you missed a little, unable to contain your giggle. theo’s hand came into frame and turned your face, his thumb wiping away the smudge. you made eye-contact and as the video drew closer to the end, he pulled you in and smothered you in kisses, eliciting laugh after laugh from you and making a mess of your faces.

"theo!" you shrieked as it stopped and the finished video began replaying.

"perfect." he laughed after you, allowing you to turn to the mirror and inspect the damage.

"mm... this better have been worth the stain."

from the reflection, you saw his expression drop. "stain?!" for his face was covered in red.

of course, the video turned out adorable. of course, it took a good hour of scrubbing to get the lipstick off of both of you.

rah rah rah rah rah rah

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #katiasworks #theo nott fic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theonottsmut #theo nott rec #theodore nott fic #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore #theodore nott fanfic #💼:: katiasworks

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satorusugurugurl · 28 days

Text

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,882

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language, steamy kisses, pillow walls

A/N: Ah yes, trauma dumping before things get super spicy!!! Love the communication, it’s giving this could be a great relationship but it’s complicated. If you want to be included in the tag list, you MUST have your age in your bio PLEASE!!! Thank you!!

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your breathless words had the world crashing down around Satoru as he stared at your flushed face. His eyes widened as he released you, his own heart hammering in his chest. He had never lost control like that before! But there was this pull in his chest, one that screamed that he needed to protect you from the walking douchebag with black hair away from his; no, what the fuck? Not his girl, his client!

“Holy fuck, I'm sorry! Shit, uhm, I shouldn't have done that.” Satoru grumbled, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I��m sorry.”

Your fingers trailed slowly over your lips. They were still tingling. “No, it's okay. I almost blew our cover.” Satoru slowly dragged his hands down his face, his eyes transfixed on you as you spoke. “That was all part of the act. If you didn't do that, it wouldn't have looked as convincing.” Satoru visibly seemed to relax, shoulders slumping as he sighed.

“Thank fuck.”

“It was just weird.”

“I'm sorry?”A white eyebrow cocked up at your words. “Me kissing you was weird? Was it bad?”

Your face flushed more, the heat spreading across your cheeks before setting over your chest. “Oh god, that came out wrong!” Your hands shot up in defense. “I-I didn't mean like that, Satoru! I just—I haven't kissed anyone in over a year and a half. So I guess I just—yeah, I’m rusty.”

“No,” you jerked your head up, “no, it was nice.” Stunning blue eyes softened, making you swallow hard. He thought it was nice. He is the hottest man on the planet, and ESCORT thought kissing you was nice.

What the fuck was this life?

Snapping out of the trance Satoru had you in; you cleared your throat. “I-I think I’m gonna take a s-shower!” You tossed the extra pillow to the futon on the floor. “Oh, and uhm, that kiss was nice for me too.” You turned, bolting for the bathroom before slamming the door.

You slowly slid down it, sitting on the ground as you touched your lips. Satoru had such soft lips. It felt really good being kissed like you were wanted. No, no, it was an act! It's all an act. An act that had Satoru pacing the floor as he ran his hand through his hair.

It was only once he heard the shower running that he sat on the ground. What the fuck was that?! His pale skin was almost red as he tugged at white tufts of hair. He never got flustered with clients before! Maybe he was going insane. He must be because his mind keeps replaying the kiss repeatedly.

The way you stiffened, how your hands gripped him so tight as he kissed you like he had never kissed a client before. Satoru slapped both his cheeks before shaking his head. That breathtaking kiss was nothing more than him doing his job. He was looking out for you as a client. Yeah, that was it. That asshole of a guy was the reason his heart was still racing as he thought of you and your lips.

By some miracle, both of you managed to pull your thoughts away from the kiss. You showered before switching with Satoru. He finally came out ten minutes later, grinning as he witnessed you placing the four extra pillows down the middle of the futon. You fluffed, pushed, and sat back to assess your constriction before repeating the process repeatedly until Satoru barked out a laugh from behind.

“Quit the impressive wall you’ve built.” Looking over your shoulder, you watched Satoru pull a tank top over his head. He slowly pulled it down over chiseled abs that had to have been crafted by a Renaissance artisan. Because there was no way those were real. “I’ve never had a client do that before.”

”Please don’t take it personally.” You whispered under your breath before fluffing another pillow. “It makes me feel a bit better; I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in a while.”

“Hey, no worries, whatever makes you feel comfortable, you keep doing it.”

God, why was he so nice? Sure, you paid him the big bucks to pretend to be your boyfriend. But that didn’t mean he had to be so understanding and kind regarding your antics. If anything, you would have assumed your pillow wall would have irritated anyone. You know for a fact that Toji would have hated it.

His kind, understanding patience had you transfixed on his movements as you both settled into bed. You were on your side, facing him as he stared at the ceiling, his hands resting behind his head. The silence wasn’t at all awkward. It was comforting in a way. You didn’t have to force yourselves to make dreadful small talk; you could enjoy the silence.

The silence, however, had questions eating away at your insides. “Satoru?” Your voice mingled with chirping crickets and the warm spring breeze outside. You waited until his head turned in your direction before you continued. “Would it be okay if I asked you a question?” His face softened as he nodded his head.

”Of course.”

“Why did you become an escort?”

Satoru chuckled, rolling onto his side so you both faced each other. “I think I’ve answered that question about a million times, so it’s easy.” His arm snaked around one of the pillows between you, hugging it to his chest. “I come from a pretty influential clan. It’s all about power, money, and success with them, and being an only child, they expected a lot from me.” His eyes rolled. “The old geezers kept going about when I would get married and have my own kids. And I didn't want anyone else feeling that way.” A cunning smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So, I became an escort to help people.” He snickered, hugging the pillow tighter. “Plus, I get to annoy those controlling old farts. So it’s a win-win for me. But I still handle my family affairs; being an escort is like my second job.” His words were genuine, and they had you smiling.

”That’s actually really sweet.” You shifted, inching just a bit closer to him. “You seem like a genuinely nice guy, doing stuff like this for strangers.” You giggled nervously, shaking your head. “That speaks volumes; I know you’re a nice guy, but I don’t know a thing about you.”

”I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Honestly.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, so do you like sleeping with your clients? Or has sex lost its spark?” You watched him curiously.

He shrugged a shoulder, smirking. “Sex is still good when it's with a good partner. But I honestly don't sleep with a majority of my clients. One because, well, let's be honest, they can't afford it. I charge double the price of a single day for sex. So that's ¥240,000.”

“For sex?!”

“Yep! So people can't afford it, especially when I do family events like this. But I usually refuse; I don't particularly like sleeping with someone unless I know them. You know?”

You hummed, and Satoru grinned, inching himself closer. Another one of your constructed pillows shifted out of the way. “I understand. I'm glad you have the right to refuse.” He nodded, blue eyes almost sparkling in the light of the moon flooding the room. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Puppy love, nothing more than that.” Satoru pursed his lips in thought. “But I'm not opposed to falling in love someday.”

“God,” you groaned, rolling into your back, “look at me, asking you stupid questions like I’m in high school.”

Satoru sat up, laying on his elbow as he looked down at you with a pout. “No! No, I don't mind! I like talking to you.” He was leaning over you, smiling wide, white strands of hair falling in his face.

“I like talking to you too, Satoru.”

Satoru wanted to reach out and move Y/H/C strands out of your face. To see if your skin felt as soft as it looked, to feel your warmth. His hand moved, and just before it touched you, he dropped it, clenching it in the pillow

“Y/N, could I ask you something?”

“Seeing as I asked you something, it's only fair.” You smiled, and it was so fucking cute Satoru wanted to bury his face in the pillow and kick his feet. Restraining his urge, he cleared his throat.

“You mentioned your ex in passing. I'm assuming it was that asshole from earlier?” You frowned, nodding. “I don't like to pry or push my clients, but I keep thinking about what you said. What did you mean by ‘why didn't he?’ when I asked why he broke up with you.”

Sitting up, you sighed, eyes slowly shutting. Remembering that night was something you desperately tried to avoid. Satoru, however, had opened up to you, and he was helping you. Plus, he'd already caught a glimpse of Toji, so you might as well bite the bullet and tell him.

Sucking in a deep breath, you exhaled slowly, bringing your knees to your chest, hugging them. “Toji Zen’in and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first for everything, so of course, I fell hard. We moved in together when we graduated high school into a small apartment in Kyoto. We got engaged at nineteen, and things went downhill.” Your grip tightened around yourself. “To make a painfully long story short, Toji developed a gambling habit, burning through his savings while I was in college.” The sheets shifted as Satoru sat up, turning to watch you with narrowed eyes.

“So, as a novice baker working at my parent's inn at twenty-one, I faced a dilemma. My fiancè was jobless, nonetheless, and behind on our rent.” The inside of your nose began to burn as tears threatened to escape. “I could leave him and focus on me and my career. I'd be losing my home and the supposed love of my life. Or I could use the money I saved up for pastry school to cover the rent we were behind on.”

Sheets shifted, and a large hand gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into Satoru’s eyes. “You didn’t.” The tears streaming down your cheeks answered his question. “Y/N—” A sad, broken laugh sounded in your chest.

“I did. Used everything I saved up to keep us in our apartment for four years.” Nausea churned in your stomach as you laughed a little louder. “After all of that, everything I did, he broke off our engagement. He said he didn't love me, that he couldn't see himself with me five years down the road.” More tears fell down your cheeks, landing on the sheets. “Toji said I was too focused on my career, my dreams, that I was eating too many sweets. That I wasn't as exciting as I used to be.” Satoru’s gaze darkened as you spoke, watching you wipe uselessly at your eyes. “That devastated me, so I packed up, moved to Tokyo, and got pastry training. I haven't been back since.”

“That fuckin’ dick!” Satoru looked obviously upset over everything coming out of your mouth. “Seriously, you're beautiful, god I hate people like that!” No one should ever be treated the way you have been. To take care of a partner, give up on a dream for someone who you were supposed to marry, to have them pull shit like that. It made Satoru sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, I'm still trying to get over it. In a way, I guess I'm happy it happened because I feel like I wouldn't have gotten as far in my career as I have. But the scars are still there, along with the trust issues. I can't bring myself to date anyone, let alone have sex.”

Oh. Satoru perked up at you mentioning sex. You had told him you didn't need sex. The reasoning behind that was like an itch he couldn't scratch. You brought it up, so he might as well take the opportunity to ask while he had that.

“Why is that? The sex part, I mean, you deserve your needs to be taken care of as much as the next person.”

“That my friend is because he broke up with me right after we had sex. Imagine just having an orgasm, and your boyfriend gets off of you and tells you he wants to break up before listing everything wrong with you.”

“Fuckin’ shithead.” Satoru wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest and hugging you as tightly as possible. “I'm so sorry you went through that. He's an asshole for doing that to you.” Satoru’s hand gently stroked your head as your face rested in the crook of his neck. “I hope you recover soon because you deserve to feel loved and happy.” His hand paused as he snickered. “And have mind-blowing sex that makes you forget all about those bullshit excuses he gave you.”

Gojo Satoru’s words and tone were so genuine you found yourself smiling into his neck. Your arms wrapped around him as you lay down. “I hope so, too. Thank you, Satoru.”

“No, thank you for sharing that with me; it means a lot.”

The two of you stayed like that, his hand stroking your hair while you rested on his chest. Your pillow wall lasted thirty minutes and was never constructed again that night or the following one because there was a comfort you and Satoru found in each other.

The two of you had so much fun during the day. Laughing and talking as you would hang around with your family and friends. You told stories and jokes and went to dinners with the wedding party together. He got along well with everyone, and your friends liked him and his looks. At the same time, your parents admired him for helping around the inn, delivering towels to guests, and cleaning up with you. They saw him as a perfect partner, just like you had paid him to do it.

But you were beginning to wonder if it was just his job or just him being Gojo Satoru. The amount of laughing and talking you did in front and behind closed doors didn't feel like he was doing another job. He seemed to be enjoying himself truly. The days seemed to fly by, and it was hard to believe it was Wednesday night. Satoru walked you to the bar your friends were at for the bachelorette party. If it was Wednesday, you only had four days left with him.

“Are you planning on getting drunk, like super drunk?” Satoru asked, looking at you from over his sunglasses. “Because that's a sight I would pay money to see.”

“Nah, I'll have a few drinks, but I don't like getting hammered drunk.” You gently bumped your shoulder into his side. “You sure you don't want to join us? The girls said they’re okay if you join.”

“Eh, I don't like drinking. I'm a lightweight, and it never appealed to me. If Suguru were here, oh, he'd be down.” You beamed up at him as he mentioned his one and only best friend. “Seriously, he'd love this shit. Being surrounded by girls, drinking with them.” Satoru shoved his hands in his pockets. “Seriously though, he'd love you. You two would get along great. I’ll have to introduce you to him when we get back to Tokyo.”

His words struck you like a hot iron. He was pulling out his phone and checking the time, oblivious to what he had just said. The man you were paying to be your boyfriend for a week wanted to introduce you to his friend? His best friend!

It had your heart fluttering as butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Satoru hadn't even corrected himself as he peered down at you, returning the warm and happy smile you were positive was tugging at your lips. God, you hadn't been this happy in so long.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

“Cool! We should set something up. Maybe we could get din—”

The door to the bar flew open, and your friends, all looking intoxicated, spotted you. “There she is! Hurry up, Y/N, you need to catch up!” the bride-to-be slurred as she reached for you.

“Waaait!! Mina, let her say bye to Satoru!!” another bridesmaid said, smacking her arm.

“Right! Right, sorry!”

You giggled, looking into Satoru’s cerulean eyes. “I'm being summoned. I should get going.” Gojo snorted, leaning down and kissing you on the lips. “I'll see you later.”

“Uhm, excuse me.” Mina had a disgusted look on her face. “What the fuck was that lame-ass kiss?” Your other friends nodded in agreement. “Satoru, what the fuck? Don't you like Y/N?”

“Of course, I like my girlfriend Mina.”

“Then kiss her like you mean it!!”

You turned, giving Mina a look that could curdle dairy. “Mina, stop.” She flipped you off, her attention never leaving Satoru’s face.

“If I don't get to go to a strip club, I wanna see a steamy kiss!” The other girls whistled and cheered. “I want it steamy! I'm talking smutty romance-level shit!”

“Mina!”

“What you both are hot as fuck! Consider it a wedding gift!!”

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!!”

Oh great, now your drunken friends were chanting, and bystanders were watching. With a grimace, you turned to the very amused Satoru, who stared down at the drunken girls before his gaze fixed on you. He shrugged a shoulder as if saying, sure, why not? But he left the decision up to you.

While you were tempted not to make your poor pretend boyfriend a walking spectacle for a group of drunk women. The thought of having to listen to them bitch and moan about you being a party pooper was way worse. So you sighed before turning to face Satoru with a smile.

“You heard them. If we do this, I can return the dish set we bought.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

Satoru grabbed you by the throat, pinning you against the wall of the bar. His lips slammed against yours in a heated kiss you'd only seen in movies. His tongue was licking your bottom lip, and you so willingly obliged, opening your mouth, allowing his tongue entrance. Satoru trailed the hand that was around your throat down your curves. His large hand gripped your hips as he growled. Fuck he tasted so good, like cola and vanilla candy. Your tongue moved against his, trying to taste more of him.

While you tasted like strawberries and chocolate to him, it was like a symphony of tastes between your tongues. One that he didn't want to end, his knee pushed its way between your legs, pressing firmly over your clothes core, making you gasp into his mouth, eyes going wide as the intimate touch. Your moan only made Satoru kiss you harder, desperate to feel the vibrations from the desperate sounds escaping your mouth.

“Whoa! Okay! Okay!” Mina shouted, her wine spilling as she hurried forward. “I said kiss her! Not fuck her in public.” Your best friend playfully swatted at his arm.

When Satoru broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your bottom lips as you both gasped for air. The sheer intensity of the kiss rendered you speechless as he allowed his eyes to trail over your face. Taking in the flush tint of your cheeks, the way your body trembled under his hand, and the subtle way your hips rocked forward against his thigh. It looked like the kiss had as much of an effect on you as it did on him.

He pressed a soft kiss against your slightly swollen lips. “You did ask for a smutty book kiss.” Satoru sighed as he pulled away. “I just delivered what you asked for.” Mina said something along the lines of ‘smutty kiss without the smut, please’ as she headed back into the bar. “Well, she might not have enjoyed it, but at least you seemed like you did.” His teasing tone slowly brought you back to reality.

”Y-Yeah, it was lovely.” You fanned yourself before heading to follow after your friends. “I’ll see you later tonight.” You breathed out, but just before you could make it inside the door, Satoru grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a hug.

”Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you, okay?”

”Okay.”

His lips were against yours again before he released you. “Okay.” He repeated your word back to you before waving you off as he headed back in the direction of the inn.

His kiss, the tone of voice, and the mere conversation of introducing him to his best friend whirled around your mind as you guzzled down a shot of sake, which had to have been the fifth one in the last forty minutes. While the other bridal party members were laughing and talking, you stared at the table. The kiss and Satoru’s words replayed over and over again in your head, like old sitcom reruns.

Was it normal for an escort to tell a client they wanted to introduce them to their friends? Was he just being friendly or taking pity on you? Then there was that kiss outside of the bar! He didn’t have to put his knee between your legs, but he did! Now your panties were wet, and the more you thought about the kiss, about him, the wetter they seemed to get.

Holy shit, what was wrong with you!?

Just three days ago, you told the guy you didn’t have sex; you didn’t need it. But the more you got to know him, the more times he kissed you, the more your icy resolve began to melt. Gojo Satoru was lighting a fire within you. One that you were very cautious of because you didn’t want to be burned again.

You got up from the table, swaying as you headed for the bathroom. Was Satoru just being nice? Or did he feel the same way you did? There was some sort of connection between the two of you. One that you might want to explore if he wants to as well. Why else would he talk to you the way that he did?

Entering the bathroom, you sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your fingers trailed over your still-swollen lip. Toji had never kissed you like that in the past. Staring in the mirror, you groaned. An image of Toji stood behind you, haunting you like he had done for the last year and a half.

“Ugh, just get the fuck out of my head and let me heal already.” You scolded the image of him in the mirror, flipping it off.

”I’m in your head?”

Your heart stopped, and your hand dropped to your side. Toji’s image smirked as he tilted his head. You were getting ready to ask yourself how drunk you were when Toji moved. His hands landed on the sink, caging you in while the smell of cedarwood engulfed you like a cloud of smoke.

”Toji—!”

“Shut up, we need to talk.”

(TBC)

Taglist:

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 month

Text

Scarlet Delivery

a Scarlet Webs story

Wanda Maximoff x Spider-Man!Reader

Wanda was hyperventilating. Her cell phone was buzzing just waiting for you to pick it up.

“Hello?” You manage to answer.

“Detka, where are you?!” She managed to say in between her hyperventilating breaths.

“Currently…rush hour” you said sticking to the front of a police car. The perp was Mac Gargan. “You shouldn’t worry, baby. I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” Wanda said, tears streaming down her cheek.

“I promise.” A gunshot went off. You narrowly dodged a bullet, “gotta go. Hey! Can’t you see I was taking a phone call!?”

And with that you had to hang up and jump back into the fray. You hated having to do patrol without Wanda. But circumstances had changed the flow and now you were solo again. Nothing changes when you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Meanwhile, Wanda’s tears were still flowing as a portal opened behind her. And out of the portal comes this universe’s Doctor Stephen Strange.

“It’s time,” he says gesturing for your lovey witch to follow. She does so, all the while hoping that you’d keep your promise.

You land on the hood of Mac Gargan’s stolen vehicle. “License and registration, sir?”

Blam! Another shot goes off, you jump onto the roof of the car. A couple more shots ring out. You dodge each bullet flawlessly.

“Can we wrap this up?” You mockingly whine, “I have prior engagements!”

You web up Mac and yank him out the car, webbing him to a nearby streetlight. The car barrels towards a nearby crosswalk where a little old lady with a Walker is currently trying to cross.

“Of all the times!” You jump onto the hood and spray it with various webs before jumping onto the back and yanking the car back with all your might, bringing the car to a dead halt mere inches from the elderly lady.

You give a quick salute and swing off. You knew the location. You knew where Wanda was gonna be. It was all a piece of cake right?

Well then came the Vulture. He tries to slice at you once, twice. “Not now Toomes! I have some place to be.”

“Yes. The morgue!” He tries slicing at you again. You swing thru Times Square and web the winged foe in a giant spider web.

“Yo! Spidey!” A citizen calls out to you.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your lady? The Witch?”

“I’m trying to get to her now!” You call out before swinging off again into the city. Why did it have to be on the other end of New York?

You land on a rooftop. You quickly web a couple silk lines to your suit, forming a makeshift pair of wings.

“I’m coming Wanda,” you shoot out two web lines and slingshot yourself across the city. Catching a wind current, you sail thru the open air of the city.

You see your destination: the Sanctum Sanctorum. You dive bomb and land right in front of the building. Wong quickly answers the door.

“How far?” You ask.

“You made it just in time.” He smiles and leads the way. You nearly run the way to the little room.

You run in to find Wanda in a relaxed position, still hyperventilating. Nine months pregnant and she still looked beautiful as ever. Dr Strange was readying his medical scrubs.

“Detka!” Wanda exclaims, tears of joy streaming down her face. You run up to her, kissing her gently.

“I promised I’d be here, right?” You ask with a little smirk. Wanda giggles and kisses you again.

“Okay Wanda,” Strange intones, “it’s time. Now push.”

“Sure you got this, Doc?” You ask.

“It’s not surgery. I’m just catching the babies. I won’t drop them.”

“Drop them and I will kill you” Wanda say through gritted teeth.

“I believe you” Strange answers back. “Now focus and push.”

It ended up taking the rest of the day and into the night but Wanda delivered two healthy baby boys. You and her were so excited.

“My boys,” Wanda said with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “Billy. Tommy.”

“They’re amazing,” you kiss the top of Wanda’s head, “thank you baby.”

“Thank you. I love them so much already,” Wanda let out a little tired laugh. She actually had her boys in her arms. This wasn’t some conjured up version of them. This wasn’t some other universe’s version of them. This was them, flesh and blood. She had a loving spouse, two handsome little babies, a nice little home in Queens.

Wanda finally had the life she always wanted. And best yet, she got to have it with you, her Spider Monkey.

Tags: @tokufighter @ma1egamer @jacelion @lifespectator @aloneodi @holiday-house-of-m @family-house-of-m @multi-fandom-enjoyer @iamnicodemus @rroyale-109 @scarletquake-n7 @moonpheus

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet webs #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #spider man #multiverse of madness

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satorusplayplace · 9 months

Text

gojo never wanted you to leave. honestly, he would’ve made you stay if he could. god he misses your smell, your touch, the food you would cook, whenever you came home late and he was already home and you melted into his arms because of how tired you were. he missed you so god damn much. but why did he fuck this up? why does he always fuck up everything that’s good for him?

“seriously satoru?” he hears while laying in bed, his eyes are red and puffy, he’s holding a piece of her clothing, her favorite shirt. he didn’t even want to look up.

“satoru, get the fuck up.” he looks up, his hair a mess, he hasn’t shaved in a while, so a little stubble is growing. his eyes have eyebags, they are so red and puffy, she can’t see his pretty blue eyes.

“satoru, i just only said we needed a break. i didn’t say we broke up. i said i’ll be back in a week!!!” she yells and cuddles into him trying to get him to smile.

“but-but you looked so mad and i couldn’t. i thought this was the end. you scared me. i hate you.” he sobbed between his words, making her want to cry but she didn’t. she rubs his back and starts to kiss his cheek.

“oh my big baby, what am i going to do without you? i love you so much satoru. we just needed a tiny break, especially me. that argument had me thinking about our lives, what should we do better and i just, i needed time to think by myself honey. i just wanna know what do you think about getting marr-“ immediately she gets cut off by the white haired man saying, “yes. i wanna marry you. i wanna have kids with you. i wanna do everything with you.” he turns around throwing her favorite shirt somewhere resulting with her hitting him lightly on the shoulder, he cuddles into her.

“well, surprisingly! i can fulfill one of those sentences right now.” she pulls out something from a bag she was carrying. satoru looks at the pregnancy test and get stares. his eyes start to fill with tears again.

“you’re gonna be a mom? and i’m gonna be a dad? we’re gonna have a baby? we’re going to be parents? babe.” he couldn’t handle his excitement, he hugged her and started to kiss her everywhere.

“first we need this house cleaned. what the fuck were you thinking? did you not think i would come back? you should’ve been ready for me. you don’t have our house cleaned! i will make you scrub the toliet with just a toothbrush satoru.” her voice gets stern and he shot up in the bed and started to clean.

in the end, no matter what they go through. they will always stay together. y/n is his sun, while satoru is the moon. in the end, she will shine bright for him while he will shine bright in the shadows for her.

—

hey guys! i wanted to try a new format! so this is just a little drabble :) but yeah! i’m gonna start trying new formats. this was to get my brain in gear again because i want to write all the requests and get them done :) but here’s a little something to keep you entertained! i want to do a gojo x pregnant!reader series soon so i guess here’s a sneak peak of what’s in my mind?

#jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #romance #x reader #gojo satoru #fanfic #fluff #angst #comfort #gojo x reader #pregnant reader #gojo is so cute!#gojo satoru x reader

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mayfieldss · 4 months

Text

Point blank - Thomas Shelby

Summary: When you are held at gunpoint by one of Tommy's many enemies, he must come to terms with his feelings.

Warnings: being held at gunpoint (obvi), blood, violence, language, suggestive content. Not spell checked at all so beware.

The cool metal against the side of your skull wasn't exactly the feeling you had hoped for as the night dragged on. You'd thought about many things, and many people that could bring you pleasure and fun, and you'd thought of a warm bed you would love to curl up in when it got too late to stay awake. But this, the gun pressed firmly to your head, had not been one of the sensations you'd hoped for.

"Call him outside," the man holding the gun shouted to a maid who had stumbled upon the scene. She'd clearly stepped out of the Shelby estate in the hopes of a smoke break, as had you, but was met with a more than shocking ordeal. Tommy's side piece, as many had called you, held at gunpoint by an angry stranger.

She ran ahead inside, and you knew Tommy would be out in a matter of minutes. This was a regular sunday for him. For you, though, it was not something you wanted to occur at all, let alone more than once.

"Mathison," Tommy calls, accent thick as a small fog accompanies his words. The night is cold, and everyone that dares speak becomes a dragon. "I doubt this is nessacary." His hands are raised in a disarming gesture, but you know Tommy well enough. In his eyes, there's concern, worry, and that does not at all ease your nerves.

"You said you'd pay me, give me the money for my family, Tommy, you promised." The man that stands behind you grips tighter to your body, your back flush to his chest as the barrel of the gun digs into your skin.

"You'll get your money in good time, I'm an honest man, Mathison, now let the lady go free." He spares a glance to you, and you can tell he wished he hadn't as soon as it happens. His eyes darken as though he won't be able to scrub the memory free of his mind. Not that you matter that much to be remembered. Not to someone like Tommy. You were just a woman he met in dark corners, after all.

"I want the money now!" The mans shout beside your ear makes you flinch, and the gun shakes in his hands. "It's been weeks, and I want what I was promised!" The man is not at all stable, and with his finger so close to the trigger, you aren't confident in your survival rate.

"Tommy, give him the money. Please." You shouldn't speak. It could earn you a number of consequences, but the fear is stronger than rational thought.

Perhaps the same goes for Tommy because you swear you see him think it over. He flexs his hand at his side, trying to stretch out the tension writhing within him. He is a man of business, not of love, and time and time again that four letter word has ruined him. But seeing you, under threat of harm, stirs a particular amount of concern.

"I don't take kindly to threats against my family. And it looks as though you may be threatening me? Am I correct?"

The man behind you doesn't say anything. His hand still shakes and his grip on you is painful, but he knows that to say yes is to mean consequence, and to say no, would be to lie to Thomas Shelby, which won't end well either.

"Right. Well, I'm having a fucking party inside, one that I would be hosting if I wasn't needed to deal to this. I think the best course of action is for you to put the gun down and leave the premises. You will get your money tomorrow, Mr Mathison." His words sound so final. You can almost believe the man that has a hold of you will listen. Perhaps he is listening because slowly, the gun isn't as close to you anymore.

The gunshot is loud, deafening, and your ears ring with the sound of it. You would have thought that was because you were bleeding out, were it not for the loud scream that fell from your lips at the same time as the sound. If you had, in fact, been shot point blank in the head, you would not have time to scream.

The man that once had a hold of you tumbles backward, and you, in shock, fall to your knees in relief, as well as an attempt to lower the chances of being hit by another stray bullet.

Your first mistake was to look back, eyes locking on the blood pooling around the now fallen mans head. You could have been in the same position just moments before.

"Look at me." Tommy's hands come to grasp the sides of your face, not giving you a choice in the matter. He's on his knees in front of you, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "Are you alright?"

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut despite his order, and begin to cry. It's embarrassing to do so, but there's is no way you couldn't bring yourself to. Tommy pulls you into his chest, and despite how mad at him you are, you let him.

His heart races as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his own mind, and the feeling of your heavy breaths taken between sobs while devastating, is the most reassuring action in the moment. You're breathing, which means he's kept you safe for now.

Later that night, you are sat on the edge of Tommy's bed, still reeling from the nights events. He'd left you in order to send the party guests away and had only just returned.

"I lied before." You mumble as he enters the room, shutting the door behind him. "I'm not alright."

Looking at him fills you with the deepest anger, how he can stand there, and undo his tie with hands that don't so much as quiver.

"You are a dangerous man, Thomas. I could have died tonight, all because I was foolish enough to get in your bed."

Tommy nods, and you hate the minimal response. "I wasn't going to let him shoot you."

"He could've shot me whether you let him or not!" Your voice is raising even as you don't want it to. He's too calm in the face of this, and that says all it needs to. "We're done, Tommy."

You stand to leave, ignoring the way your muscles feel, still tense even after the ordeal is over. The door is one step away by the time Tommy decides to speak again, but you're already in the hall before he can make a point.

"I did what I had to do to keep you safe." He's followed you out, looking more disheveled now with his tie long gone and shirt half unbuttoned.

"Am I safe with you, Tommy? Because it doesn't feel like it." You're unable to face him, eyes locked on the staircase you so desperately want to run down.

"I can't promise peace if that's what you're askin', but I won't let anyone hurt you. Not as long as I'm alive." His hand on your shoulder is what makes you turn, and you stare him down with what courage you have left.

"Do you love me, Thomas Shelby? Because if you don't, I can't understand why I'd be worth the trouble." It's more of a dare than a question because you're sure he'll say no. And once he says it, you'll have more than enough reason to leave him and never return.

Tommy exhales harshly, and you can smell the cigarettes on his breath, mixed with whiskey from the party. It's not a unique scent among men you've met, but somehow, on Tommy, it's more of an indulgence.

"I thought you knew that already." He mutters, lips closer to yours than they were before. "But I'm sure I can clarify a few things." His hands fall to your waist, a daring gesture but one that isn't uncommon for the both of you before his lips are on yours. Your anger is forced out of you in the form of a kiss, one that is messy and desperate in a way you've only known with Tommy. His breath mixes with yours as do other elements of him, until finally you push him away.

"I'm not forcing you to say it, Thomas. But for fucks sake tell me straight. Do you or do you not love me?"

Tommy grunts in frustration, running a hand over his face. He's an honest man in his own opinion, and he wants to be honest with you, but in doing so he has to do the same for himself. That's harder than most things Tommy does for a living.

"Love is more dangerous than I am, sweetheart. And believe me, my love isn't something you want."

"Yes or no, Tommy." You've pushed back every tear within you and stand like a soldier before him, ready to march away. He clears his throat, loud in the silent hallway.

"Yes. Yes, I fucking love you. now can we please go back to bed?"

You don't answer, but simply wander past him to his room. It's dimly lit, and the sheets look more than inviting after the day you've had. You turn back to him once inside, catching his eyes on your figure.

"I love you too, Tommy."

Slowly, a smile creeps onto his lips, and his eyes cloud over with a look you know too well. "Let's go to bed."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

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babygirlmurdock · 3 months

Text

Confessions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption

a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔

You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.

Matt.

You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”

“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.

You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.

“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.

“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.

Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.

“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.

“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.

You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.

“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.

You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.

“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.

“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.

Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.

“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.

“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.

“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”

Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”

“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.

You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.

You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.

Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.

“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.

“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”

“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.

“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.

“I’m in love with you.”

Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.

“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.

“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.

Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”

“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.

“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.

You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.

“Please say something,” Matt begged you.

“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”

You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.

“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“

“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.

“If you’d let me finish—“

“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.

“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.

“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.

“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.

Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”

“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.

“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”

“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.

“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ

tags: @yarrystyleeza

I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀

All credit to the original gif owner!

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff

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dante-mightdie · 5 months

Note

Happy to fill your inbox with pup!141 requests!! <3 <3

Favorite pup gaz is absolutely a thing, Soap may show it humping prices foot practically in tears but gaz 100% is begging in his owners ear to pretty please just touch him he'll be such a good boy!!

Alpha dog Simon drools when he sleeps and talk to the wall other wise.

Soap is down horrendously for getting to herd around his pack, he may not be the leader by a long shot, but when they entertain him, even just for a minute is tail is wagging a mile a minute to be doing his job like a good pup

Simon always gets the first turn with you on your heat when price isn't around, leaving you drooling from the thick knot he give, whispering how he'll give you the best pups and make you nice and round with em (at LEAST three is a must <3)

Soap takes a similar approach, telling you he'd be such a good take to his pups if you just please let them take, please he'd do anything with those puppy eyes stares and low whines

Gaz is quieter about wanting to get you round with his litter, but it shows in the way he always takes you last and leaves his softend cock deep in you for the night, praying his seed I'll take

Price doesn't care what his whiny pack of mutts get up too, when he does however walk in on you all stuffed with cum in a sleepy pile, he makes soap and gaz clean you out from the inside with their butting tongues, Johnny still licks at the capt's balls when he finally gets his turn with the silly worn out reader :((

Maybe if Simons good, price I'll let him lick at his cock while he does paperwork, just a pretty pup under his desk with no thoughts other than his owners cock (does Simon have tongue piercing that makes for the most devilish feelings, I like to think yes)

Fighting dog Simon who while always willing to bow for price, can leash around the rest of you pups with know trouble even a feisty soap who acts like he's on too much caffeine, pinning him down until he finally stops wriggling

Gaz like a cat sometimes will lick at you fur until you have cowlicks going in every direction and then laugh at you untill you tattle to Simon, he's just being so mean to you :((

I gotta know did poor baby gaz get his ears and tail cropped coming from some snooty family, or does he have natural ears/tail, gotta know to get a background on the pretty street dog price found,

-Anyways much love

Sins (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

more more more more bark bark

content warning: talks of tail and ear cropping, minor smut, hybrids

I did think about giving simon the cropped ears and tail but there is something about gaz being a guard dog for some snobby family who tossed him away on the streets :( poor baby gaz who whined and yowled all night after waking up from the surgery :(

soap is a very friendly pup, always wagging his tail at strangers and yanking at his leash when he sees a new potential friend! only time he gets snappy is when it's dinner time, gnashed his teeth at simon when he got too close to his food and was very quickly put in his place by his alpha

alpha pup simon who grabs at your tail when you're being too rowdy, yanking on it and making you yelp loudly

speaking of simon. prized breeding stock tell me i'm wrong. he's so big and strong and such a good pack leader that you can't do anything but beg him to give you a litter during your heat :(

gaz who gets seperation anxiety when he's away from his owner for too long! gets so antsy when price isn't back by the time he usually is. gets very startled and jumpy around the rest of the pack :(

grooming day is a nightmare for john :( especially when it comes to soap and simon. simon hates bath day, big body cramped in the tub whilst price scrubs him clean and clips his nails

soap just makes a huge mess, tail wagging excitedly and splashing water everywhere. immediately goes out and gets messy again

you and gaz are price's pretty prized pups after you're all clean and collared, both laying at his feet and snoozing soundly after such a stressful day!

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

Text

Kiss in Payment

Summary: Continuation of Services/Goods of Equivalent Value. You have opened a teashop near an off record military base and this is a bunch of snippets of your life there.

Words: 7.5k (HOW?!)

You hadn't slept in a real bed in so long and you were not prepared to get out of it. It smelled good and it was warm and you were tired right down to your bones from all the work of the past 6 months finally culminating in the busiest and happiest evening you had possibly ever had. Only half awake you nuzzled into the pillow with a happy little sigh of contented comfort.

"Feels better than sleeping in a chair doesn't it?"

At first you smiled sleepily and made a sound of agreement. And then your brain caught up and you shot up, eyes opening and darting around madly to find you were in a small, simple bedroom and Simon was sat in the chair in the corner, book in hand being dogeared and set on a little table now that you were awake.

You had seen most of his face before when he was drinking or eating so seeing the whole thing wasn't any more of a shock than the situation you had found yourself in. It was a little strange seeing the skin around his eyes cleaned and bright, no smudges of black. He looked softer like this you thought.

"I um, I don't um… ah ha I must have fallen asleep in the chair right? Must have just been so tired! You didn't have to move me, but thanks, it wouldn't have been good for me to sleep there right? Ha ha."

God you were adorable when you tried to lie. Heart was far too prominent on your sleeve for it to ever work. You were clearly flustered way more from trying to lie than from waking up in his bed and such a fondness settled in him knowing that you trusted him so easily. You trusted that he had carried you here to help, that he would never have done anything to hurt you.

"Gaz would have carried you to your bed, but come to think of it there doesn't seem like any sort of bedroom in your shop."

Was he teasing to watch you scramble to try and explain yourself? Maybe a little, sue him.

"Oh right! It's in… the basement, it's in the basement."

You had a nanosecond of being relieved you had thought up a lie so quickly before being horrified at what a bad lie it was. What if they wanted to go into the non-existent basement now? But you had gotten away with it for now and you relaxed as Simon just nodded with an "Ah, of course, the basement".

Maybe you were good at this whole lying thing!

When it was time to get up and get a ride back home to the shop Simon got the little tub of eye black to smear on. You took it from him and started dabbing it on with your fingers for him since he had let you sleep in his bed.

"It's like finger painting" you grinned, sitting back to admire your work.

He took your hand in his before you could fully withdraw it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that had the tips of your ears on fire. You gave him a wide eyed stare in question.

"Services/goods of equivalent value remember? This one was worth at least a few days of moving furniture."

You smiled shyly, thinking he meant applying the eye black for him. Simon let you think that, knowing himself that the payment he was taking was being able to press his lips to your skin.

You felt your lie was under attack when, after being driven back to your shop by Price with Soap in tow, they started talking about your basement as they helped you with all the dishes from the night before.

"Didn't you help with a lot of the building Soap? Going to have to give you extra observation training, missing a whole basement."

"Och Captain dinnae, ye know that training is the worst! I'll do better next time, ye'r spot on that it's unacceptable for me to miss something like that."

Oh the way you went dead silent while you scrubbed at a plate, clearly being eaten alive by guilt. It was cute up until you genuinely seemed in distress, and although it was fun to tease Johnny was thankful when Price laid off.

"Ah I'm only taking the piss Sergeant, easy thing to miss in an old place like this."

Some of the tension bled from your shoulders and oh if Soap didn't suddenly remember the little shy kiss you pressed to his cheek the night before. Such a sweet thing, genuinely getting upset at the idea he might have to do training because of a lie you told to protect yourself. As if him and Gaz didn't lie all the time to try and get one another in trouble just for the hell of it.

"Opening is in an hour aye? Think we could get a wee out of hours tea?" Soap asked.

You dried off your hands, smiling brightly now. Making tea always made you forget all your worries and you were wildly delighted that confessed coffee person Soap was the one asking. You went straight to work, grabbing and typing off your apron and throwing your hair up.

Price and Soap shared a conspiring look as they watched you work. They had gotten good at speaking without words. Right now their look was saying "isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw? I think I might scream if she does one more cute thing."

With the tea steeping you sighed in contentment, jumping a little when Price's hand found the small of your back. You hadn't even realised he was so close, for such a big man he was so light on his feet! He tapped a finger to his cheek.

"Think helping wash one load of dishes works as equivalent value."

You popped onto your tip toes and planted a soft peck to his cheek and as Soap bounded forward for the same Price shoved him away with a grin.

"Got payment in advance last night if I recall Soap, can't have our favourite girl overpaying."

Price and Soap left just as you officially opened for the day, but to your soft delight already Horangi and Farah were waiting outside for the sign to be flipped. They were bundled up, must have walked over. Now that you knew the distance from here to the base it made you swell with pride to know they had made the trip on foot.

"Two of ye are here awful early naw?"

"Is there a problem with that MacTavish?" Horangi asked with a smirk, suspecting that the problem was Soap was about to leave you alone with him and Farah.

He had thought it would only be him, everyone else using their morning to work out and get fed. Obviously Farah had the same idea though, both of them feeling a sense of challenge from the other. He was sure you would like learning to make his Korean sweets over her Urzik ones.

"Course naw, always happy tae see paying customers for my girl here" he responded, clearly proud of himself for managing to find a subtle way to tell Horangi and Farah to back off because you were his.

Farah raised an eyebrow at Price when he smirked at Soap's little claim and his lip twitched slightly. The exchange was barely noticeable and yet the unspoken conversation had went something like this:

"Really John? She's a little young for you is she not?"

"Really Farah, what would Alex say?"

"Me and Alex have always been very good at sharing, ask Gaz."

"Don't remember you being this much of a brat Karim."

Farah thought it was a shame you had been subject to all these boorish men for so long. Soft, sweet thing like you deserved some soft and sweet companionship. She had hoped that she could get to know you while teaching you how to make the halva she had fed you bites of last night any time you had paused in your hectic running about to pour her tea.

You had been very complimentary of the simple sweet, wanting to know all about the cultural history of it. Farah was no stranger to the uncomfortable looks she got when she would pour her heart out about her passion for her home country. She had half expected you to nod politely and excuse yourself. Only you hadn't, you had been genuinely and unabashedly happy at how passionate she was about her home, eyes sparkling with interest as you made her promise that she'd visit again and tell you more.

Of course Hong-jin would be equally as fond of you, she had spied how he had made you try a bite of bukkumi and how he had cried laughing when it was chewier than you expected and you had bitten your tongue. That giant beside him had acted as if you were mortally wounded until you had calmed him down and Farah was observant if nothing else, she had seen how your easy way with the larger man had Hong-jin simmering with fondness.

Price and Soap realised they couldn't very well stay without it being obvious they were only doing so to stop Farah and Horangi from being left to work their charms on you, so with a grumble they departed.

You were honestly a little nervous about your first real customers after opening day, but you thought you did a great job of hiding it and welcoming them inside.

Farah and Horangi could both tell you were nervous, it was glaringly obvious, so an unspoken pact was made that they would only compete with each other in ways that you wouldn't notice so wouldn't make you anxious.

An hour later and you were so delighted that they had been kind enough and patient enough to teach you how to make the sweets they had bought the night before, oblivious to the amount of sabotage and subterfuge in the silent war between your two customers.

Still they did eventually have to admit defeat, they were due in meetings and couldn't stay forever. You squeaked and shook your head rapidly when they tried to pay for their drinks.

"Oh no please, you were both so wonderful to have shared your recipes with me! Think of this as payment for that."

"I already said I would teach you did I not? Of course I have to pay properly for the tea you made me."

“It would be very rude not to, I can pay for both of our teas.”

“No no, I can pay for both. After all you are technically a guest with the 141 aren't you?”

“As are you.”

“Oh I would say more a long distance member. Actually since this is so near the 141 base and you've been so good to the team, I'd say that makes you basically an honorary member!”

“Oh! That's such an honour for you to say Farah, it's more that the team has been good to me though” you explained in a rush, a pretty flush of colour dusting your cheeks.

“Ah but you also have adopted the little cat with us, so it makes you more a member of Kortac than anything else.”

“I think Herzogin adopted me, she just came in one day and decided to make herself at home and I couldn't say no” you said, now feeling so flustered there must be steam coming out of your ears.

There was something so touching about what they were saying even if it was light hearted and meant more as a joke you thought. Even the thought of somehow being a part of their lives, some little silly civilian branch of their teams, made your hummingbird heart flutter.

It was also very sweet how they both wanted to cover each others bill even though you really could not let them go unrewarded for teaching you their recipes. They must be quite close these two teams. Definitely not two people who had only properly met last night and were now locked in a bitter rivalry over you or anything.

“But regardless I need to repay you somehow for the lessons! Don't make me start pulling out a contract again” you laughed.

When they asked you explained about your hastily written contract with Soap, how it had kept expanding after that. You even showed them the copy as messy as it was.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**and any members of the Los Vaqueros team***

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed”

It didn't feel much like a contract anymore what with Simon's messy scrawl and the massive pen stroke from when Soap had shoved Rudy as he was trying to add his addendum. But it always made you smile to look at.

You thought your heart might burst when they both very reverently take turns adding their own addendums on.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.******

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**along with any members of the Los Vaqueros team***

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141*****

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed

*****including Farah Karim and Alex Keller who shall be deemed members TF141 for the purposes of this contract.******

*****Any works or services carried out by members of Kortac PMC (inclusive of Herzogin) are to be subject to the same terms of payment as above.”

After that they both paid in full for all the tea meaning you were left blustering about the double payment. And when before they left they pressed a kiss to your cheek, sandwiching you between them for a moment, you were sure you have melted right into the floor.

“That's your debt settled for the recipe” Farah teased as her and Horangi left.

–

You spent the day warmed by the smattering of visitors. Some drove out, some made the trip on foot, Gaz stopped by in the middle of his run and the sight of him shirtless and sweaty made you scald yourself when you accidentally overpoured and splashed hot tea over your hand.

“Ouch luv, c'mere and let me see” he said, immediately taking your hand delicately in both of his strong ones to do a quick inspection and then leading you over to the sink to run it under cold water.

“It's not that bad” you hissed as the water hit, it was freezing and you were really just trying to get out of having to hold it there for 10 minutes.

“Hush, don't know how deep it's went so need to make sure it cools down properly.”

You didn't feel like you were cooling down with his naked torso right there beside you, one hand still holding yours and the other resting absentmindedly on your waist. All of these customers of yours really would be the death of you.

You huffed a little and stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he was right but not liking it one bit. He laughed at you and gave you a light little headbutt into your hair, the easy affection making you smile despite yourself. You smiling made him smile and it was as always like looking at the sun when this man smiled. So much so you did not even hear the door go until you were crowded by another body, the new arrival slotting against your other side in a mirror of Gaz and sighing.

“What happened here then princess?”

Gaz narrowed his eyes at Alex albeit playfully at the pet name, feeling his pinky brush again his hand now also settling in on you.

“Ah just clumsy! Not a very good omen to be spilling tea on the second day huh?”

“You know Ghost and Soap once got so drunk they passed out on the sofa and we found them all tangled up the next morning, said they must have moved in their sleep.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that, blinking up at Alex who was only grinning back at you.

“There now, we've both spilled tea, so I can take all the bad omens off of you.”

Goddamnit, Kyle always forgot how stupidly handsome and charming Keller was. Even being right in your space shirtless, having been meticulous in his work out this morning to ensure his body would look just right to get you flustered, you weren't even looking at him anymore. Too busy giving a soft smile to the American playboy. Well if you can't beat them…

You jumped when you felt Kyle's breath right at your ear. He had leaned over a little to join the conversation but it meant he was even closer than before and it was suddenly very, very warm.

“Just to make sure though, Keller here will deny it ever happened but he once kissed a man right in front of his girlfriend! Right scandalous if you ask me. How's that for tea?”

“i-in front of your girlfriend?!” you asked, somewhat in shock that this man who had been nothing but sweet to you was a cheater.

“As I recall, my girlfriend was the one that put in the request” he laughed, seeing your look of suspicion and softening. “I promise she was happy about it princess, we've always been open to sharing.”

Him and Gaz shared a look then, both obviously noticing that you were probably about to faint from the no doubt tame (scandalous in your head) images the idea of sharing was conjuring. While it was very endearing the way you reacted, the thump thump thumping of your heart almost perceptible, they couldn't find it within themselves to tease you more. Sweet little thing like you deserved better.

“Come on luv, let's get it dried off and wrapped up.”

Kyle lifted your hand away from the cold water and you realised they had completely distracted you from the discomfort. You wondered if it had been on purpose as he took you over to one of the stools and made you sit while Alex fished out the first aid box.

“Oh, how did you know where that was?”

“Military princess, reckon about everyone scoped out the exits, fire extinguisher and first aid kit last night. Laswell had me order some safety signs for express delivery, should arrive today actually.”

“Oh I didn't even think! How much did it cost? I’ll pay you for them straight away.”

Kyle sighed as he wrapped your hand, knowing exactly what was about to happen and not able to think of one reason to stop it. Besides, it's not like he didn't think you and Alex looked cute together and he didn't even bother to hide his grin of disbelief at how outrageous Keller was when he caressed your face.

“Farah said we could get a kiss in payment as long as it was an equivalent value. Would a kiss be OK princess?”

You didn't really remember nodding even though you had, but you were pretty sure you'd remember Alex Keller pressing a heart achingly soft kiss to your lips as long as you lived. You felt like your brain was flowing with syrup when he laughed lightly and fondly after kissing you, like he was happy he got to do it.

“Medical fees as well luv, yeah?”

And then you were nodding and Kyle Garrick was kissing you while Alex still had one hand on your cheek and everything was a little too hot and overwhelming.

Thankfully both men were merciful and didn't mention it when you blinked back into consciousness from fainting onto the counter. If Gaz had had to scream into Alex's shoulder because of how adorable he found it, well they didn't mention that either.

–

You were in trouble now. Kate Laswell was giving you a look that you were sure meant she could read your mind.

“You're not in trouble, but you need to tell me the truth. Why were you staying at the base last night?”

Of course Laswell knew, she knew everything about everyone. You were the kind of soft she knew it was easy for hard soldiers to love, but if she thought for a second that one of the 141 had taken you to bed last night she was inclined to use them for shooting practice. You had been dead on your feet after opening day, not in any fit state for clandestine meetings.

Plus she felt protective over you, maybe a little possessive. You reminded her fiercely of her wife and she had already called her last night to tell her about you, suggesting they make the time to visit together when work was less hectic for her.

“Oh I-” you paused, desperately hoping you were not going to get anyone into trouble but itching to tell this woman the truth, “they found me asleep in one of the chairs so instead of waking me they let me use one of the beds. It was my fault for falling asleep where I did! They were just being kind.”

“Why didn’t the move you to your own bed?” Kate asked with a long suffering sigh. It would be just like the 141 to jump to the extreme option.

“It's um, they didn't know where it was.”

Kate had scoped out the place last night without crossing a line into snooping, but she had thought the door next to the stove would be a bedroom. The boys would have known that though, Price said Riley and MacTavish had helped a lot with construction and moving furniture. So either she was really going to have to leather them for taking you back to base when your bed was right there, or the room was a storage space.

“And where is that?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you sleep?”

“Oh hang on, I'll get you another cup!”

Kate watched you stumble away with the poor excuse of getting the pot to pour another cup of tea for her. Her teacup was still half full. And she was indeed going to have to skin the 141 alive. How did it take them so long to figure out that you didn’t have a proper place to sleep? The quiet fury she felt at thinking how long you had been curling up on one of the chairs surprised her for only a moment before she let it settle in. Kate Laswell had always been very good at quickly identifying who she considered her people and her knack of it hadn’t let her down yet.

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

You froze as you were reaching for the teapot.

“I-i the basement? Since I got the place.”

Kate was well aware there was not a basement, not unless there was a magical hidden hatch to it. Even if she hadn’t been 99% certain, the fact that you were the worst liar she had ever encountered and the look of alarm she saw on Alejandro’s face as he slid through the door gave her assurance she was right. The question at this point was how to gentle you into telling her what was going on and why you didn’t have somewhere to sleep. She wished her wife were here, between the two of them she was more the people person.

“Try again cariño, there is no basement in this building.”

Your ruse was rapidly falling apart with Alejandro now here as well. You had been so sure you had gotten away with it as well, and you were just stuck to the spot gaping trying to get your brain to come up with some sort of excuse.

“Well um, I know I said basement but I- the thing is maybe it’s just a plan to have a basement. Right. That’s what I meant, that I’m going to put in a basement and have a bed there. Yeah. And that means that right now I don’t have one. A basement I mean, or uh, yeah a bed. But it’s totally fine, that chair by the fire is super comfortable and it’s not that bad for my back and Herzogin likes being able to curl in my lap anyway and actually I really like it because the blanket would be a little too small if I was all stretched out anyway and-”

Alejandro had known you long enough to see when your brain was absolutely catching fire. It was one of the things he loved because he knew he was always able to calm you down and it made him feel overwhelmingly content whenever he did. Right now though he at least wished your brain was catching fire over something small like offering him a new type of tea or short circuiting when Rudy had poured water over himself to cool down in the summer (Ale had nearly throttled him, little shit had known what he was doing) and not over something that made him want to smuggle you home to Mexico and make sure you never wanted for anything ever again.

He could put aside his own feelings right now though, walking over and enveloping you in a warm hug, squeezing just the right amount to make your words trail off and your brain slow down now that it felt safe and comfortable. You clung to him almost instantly, burying your head in his chest and fighting tears. You were so embarrassed to be caught, it made you feel like you couldn’t look after yourself at all.

It wasn’t that you had meant for it to all work out this way, but you were chasing a dream and you sort of came second to that. Last night you had finally made it and it had been better than you ever dared hope, it had been beyond perfect. You hadn’t even thought to include your own comfort in that dream of yours, and now when you really thought about how you had been living it all caught up and made you feel awful and exhausted.

“There come on now, it’s ok” Alejandro said softly, leaning a cheek against your hair and sharing a look with Kate, “we’re going to make sure you’re looked after ok? Just until we can sort something a little more permanent out for you.”

“I couldn’t, I don’t… I just need a little time to save up and I can get stuff” you sniffled, doing your best to keep it together.

You were fully out of money, last night had made a small fortune but that needed to go towards overdue bills and restocking. It was enough that you would be in the clear at least, and then you could actually start saving if you managed to make any profit. You wanted to say you could survive a few more cold nights, but now that it had finally hit you, that you had spent a night in a warm, cosy bed, you didn’t know that you could.

Alejandro just hushed soothingly at you, petting your hair and letting you cry it out. He knew for a fact Kate was taking advantage of knowing he would not do anything right now that was not solely with the purpose of your comfort in mind, he could see her typing away on her phone and glancing at him as if to say “I’m going to make sure she’s looked after, but it’s nice that you can distract her while I do that I suppose.”

Would he say he was happy when Nikolai showed up to whisk you off to a B&B for the night? Mixed feelings really. He was happy that you would spend the night safe and warm nearby. He was furious it wasn’t going to be with him. And then that vanished when he melted fully to a puddle as you darted quickly back after locking up and saying goodbye to them to nervously press a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the contract that I should repay you for things. I hope this works to repay you for being so kind to me.”

If Kate’s snort of amusement at his scream into his hands after you had left was anything to go by, it worked far too well.

–

“We only have a double room left, will that be ok sir?”

Nikolai had taken one look at you all cried out and sniffling outside that tea shop and decided there and then that he was going to feed you the largest meal of your life and then tuck you into a nice, warm bed and let you sleep for as long as you wanted. If he had known when he got the message from Price about the tea shop opening that you were the little thing behind the Captain and Gaz calling in all their favours he would have told the general he was flying to a critical mission to walk so he could attend.

As it was he had been on his way to visit and apologise for not making it when he had gotten the message from Kate that she was giving him a new assignment. He didn’t know the full background, he did know that the 141 was in big trouble whatever had happened. Not his problem, he was focused on you.

He had teased that he was going to fly you out of there at first and you had about passed away on the spot before he scrambled to tell you he was joking. The B&B wasn’t too far, it was in the nearest little village an hours walk from the teashop in the opposite direction of the base. You told him you were ok to walk and he had scooped you onto his back anyway, let you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder as you chatted away about anything and everything.

Your attempts at learning some Russian was adorable, trying to wrap your tongue around the words he would give you before even asking what they meant (he had gotten you to say ‘I am very cute’ perfectly and then told you it meant ‘thank you’, so delighted when you said it frequently that it overrode the guilt at being so duplicitous about it. He’d tell you one day. Maybe).

“Of course, double is perfect.”

Not that you would protest given that you were fast asleep on his back now, the weight of your head on his shoulder comforting. You deserved the rest he imagined, he had gotten pictures from Price of the opening. It wasn’t easy to have so many big personalities in one place, much less have them all vying for your attention. He took great glee knowing that every single one would be chewing glass when they found out he had you all to himself right now.

You woke up when you were put down onto the bed, blearily blinking as you tried to work out your new surroundings. It was a cosy little room, the bed you were on was like a marshmallow with the perfect firm to squishy ratio and Nikolai who you had come to like very much in the last hour was laying out a frankly disgusting amount of room service onto the little table, so much of it that you could see some had already needed to be put on the vanity.

It was wonderful to exist in a sleepy, happy haze as you ate your weight in comforting pub food, soaked in the bath he had run for you and then fell into bed. Only there was only one bed. And he was already settling himself in the armchair and putting on reading glasses that made him look adorable to start one of the little romcoms from the tiny library in the foyer. In truth Nikolai was more inclined to share, but he knew that even the act of asking you would put pressure on you. He knew a people pleaser when he saw one.

“...the bed is big enough for you as well. Would it be ok if we shared?”

Well he hadn’t expected you to be the one asking him and it took him by surprise enough that he put down his book and just blinked at you for a moment, brain short circuiting and answering in Russian instead with a heartfelt speech about how he did not want you to feel you had to offer and how he would love to hold you if you’d let him because you seemed like you should always be held and if he got to be the one to do that for only one night he would be so grateful for the trust you had given him.

You had no clue what this handsome man was saying, but it sounded nice. You hoped you hadn’t overstepped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I… have a bit of a contract with the 141. It’s for services and goods of equivalent value when they help me out. And you’ve helped me out a lot tonight so I know sharing the bed isn’t exactly, well I mean it’s really your bed, so I should be the one in the chair really, so it’s not me repaying you at all to share it” you rambled, very sleepy from the abundance of food and the warm bath.

“Oh lapposhychka, it is no wonder I got such warm messages from the Captain” Nikolai sighed, seeing how a light blush dusted across your nose when you got yourself worked up about a problem. “I do not want you to make yourself uncomfortable because you think to repay me with it.”

You brought the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose to hide your little shy smile, feeling somehow like you could tell him the truth that you could never say out loud to anyone else.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I was the one who wrote it down to be vague just incase… people wanted to be creative with interpretation.”

Nikolai took a moment to understand and then laughed so loudly that you could hear the neighbours laughing at his boisterous laugh. He was happy to slide into bed beside you then and you were using his chest as a pillow and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. When you tried to thank him in Russian he only laughed lightly and hugged you as you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

–

“Open bonnie.”

You automatically opened your mouth to let Soap feed you another bite of pastry, eyes not leaving the accounts you were pouring over. Johnny wasn’t complaining at how concentrated you were, not when it meant you had let yourself be hand fed by him after being manoeuvred into Simon’s lap. It was almost enough to make up for his plans being ruined to offer you his bedroom after Kate and Alejandro (and then very swiftly via Rudy’s big mouth everyone) had found out about your sleeping arrangements.

You had been back to open the next morning and were going over what it would cost to stay in the B&B and build an extension versus the cost of just renting or getting a mortgage on a place in the village. Him and Simon had shared several looks to the tune of “we are going to need to get it into her pretty head somehow that we can pay for everything and actually wouldn’t it be easier for her to always have access to everything she needed if she married one of us?” and then getting into an argument about who that should be.

It was idyllic and wonderful and then of course Simon had to be Simon and have an admirer who was jealousy pawing at the beautiful thing in his lap.

“Oh! Ah Herzogin, I’m so sorry, I’ve taken your space haven’t I?” you said with a little scritch behind her ears as you stood and stretched.

Immediately the cat was up in Simon’s lap and purring aggressively, making biscuits into his thigh. The look between him and Johnny then was more to the tune of:

“Jesus Si dae ye have tae be such a bloody cat magnet?”

“Well what do you want me to do Johnny? Shove König’s cat onto the floor?”

“Wait… wait we need tae steal König’s cat.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well if we want tae have her pick us…”

The unspoken conversation did not make it much further because you were asking if they wanted a drink. Johnny ordered an Irish coffee, Simon ordered an earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

“Oh, you mean a L-” you started, Simon looking at you like he may commit homicide if you said the words ‘London Fog’ to refer to his drink order.

“Llllllarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey,” you finally said, desperately improvising.

“A large, yes sweetheart” he said with a grin that nearly knocked you unconscious anytime you saw it on his unmasked face. “Although I’ll take payment for looking after the cat just now.”

While one hand was scritching at said cat he used the other to grab your waist and pull you closer, tilting his head up and smirking. Honestly he had mostly expected you to blush brightly and if he was very lucky kiss his cheek, so when you leaned down and pressed your lips to his beautifully gently the scariest solider the SAS had ever seen was reduced to blushing brightly himself.

Soap was only too eager to remind you of his services of feeding you bites of food so you wouldn’t simply waste away while you were working and your bravery only stretched so far to give him a quick peck before fleeing to the kitchen absolutely ablaze to make the coffee and London Fogarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

–

It had been less of a fight than you thought for you to stay in the shop. Price had insisted they get you an air mattress and a proper duvet at least, but they had all been respectful of your wishes even if not happy about it when you had said you really would be ok. They were already doing so much now that you had decided to build an extension instead of renting or buying somewhere else (you loved this place so much, you didn’t want to be so far away). Already they were grumbling about contractors and how they’d do a bad job so you may as well let them do it and honestly? A little part of you felt like this was as much their baby as it was yours, so you were warmed that they wanted to help.

And you were also warmed by how they had listened. They hadn’t overruled you like you were worried they might, they had just made sure that you were safe and as comfortable as possible. Mind you their idea of safe was overkill (the locks on the door they had installed in record time were something out of a sci-fi movie and more often than not the past few weeks you had not been alone on that air mattress in the shop), but you still felt so listened to and respected in your own right.

This was the first evening in the last 5 you had spent just you and Herzogin. Well just you since she had slinked out to go cause mischief somewhere no doubt. You were honestly a little relieved when there was a knock at the door, feeling a little strange being alone now as you got up, jumped through hoops to unlock all the security protocols and opened the door.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

You did not know the American on your doorstep in the torn skull balaclava, but you could see he had been beaten badly.

“Who did this to you?” was spilling out of you as you reached out your arms to him to try to take some of his weight since he was slumped against the doorway.

“If I told you that I’d have to kill you sweetheart” he said, somehow managing to sound condescending even though he was hissing the words through gritted teeth.

It was probably a strange thing to think, but he reminded you of Simon. Something about the way he held himself, the way he handled this situation. The pet name. Maybe it was some transferred fondness that had you taking as much of his weight as you could handle and stumbling inside with him, dropping him on the sofa (a new addition thanks to Nik) and rushing over to get the first aid box that thankfully had been upgraded to a full military grade mini medic bay by Kate and Farah.

“I mean you could try, but you’re not looking so hot” you said, bringing the kit over and kneeling by the sofa to try and figure out the worst of the damage.

“Ouch sweetheart, never had anyone tell me I don’t look hot on a first date.”

Oh this man was ridiculous, but at least if he was flirting he was probably not dying.

“What can I say, high standards.”

You felt his eyes scrutinising you as you checked him over. You had trained in first aid before you had even bought this place, knowing that it would be legally required but also that morally you could not have people in your premises without knowing you could look after them. Not that your customers generally needed looking after. Even the ancient book club that had started coming in from the village on Sunday afternoons were tough as old nails.

“You’ve not called anyone.”

“Well I’m assuming you don’t want an ambulance involved, and I wanted to at least be able to say how bad you were before calling someone else.”

“Who are you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters.”

He laughed and you hissed at him to stop when it clearly put him in more pain to do so. Poor Nik had been so proud when he had arrived with this sofa, had really been gloating to everyone about how you had reacted by launching yourself at him in a hug, and the chances of the blood stains ever coming out were very slim.

“And if I asked you not to?”

You looked at his eyes to find them staring back at you, almost in challenge. This guy sure was a piece of work, but you really wanted him to be ok. As you tried to pack the stab wound (you thought at least) with gauze, you mused that maybe this time somebody might owe you and not the other way around.

“Then I’d wait until you passed out and then call him when you couldn’t say no if I asked.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. Oh. That was not something you were going to be exploring while your hands were covered in blood. You just levelled him with a glare that very much screamed ‘behave yourself’ and grabbed your phone to call Simon. He answered on the second ring.

–

You know when you really sat down to reflect, your life had gotten so strange. Fake dating König because some wildly charming man called Graves had called you “little darlin’” and that was apparently a security threat, having to smack Soap with one of those squeaky toy hammers any time he scratched at his stitches after coming back fully banged up from a mission, having to referee a tricycle race between Ale and Valeria (your first time meeting her had been wild in and of itself), mediating the all out war between the book club made up of 80+ year olds and the 141.

One thing you could say for sure though when Price took your blind fold off to reveal the brand new extension finished with the absolute cosiest living space you could ever have wanted is that you were incredibly happy. It was a strange family that you found yourself in, but with that now almost illegible from all the additions contract proudly on the wall of your teashop, you found that it suited you just fine.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #cod x reader #fluff #everyone x reader #I am too lazy to tag all the relationships because it would take FOREVER #keegan x reader #nikolai x reader #jamming all of the fluff tropes in actually #as a treat to myself

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uncouth-the-fifth · 11 days

Text

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

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atlafan · 4 months

Note

Yes yes plz!! What about a holiday blurb of doctorry and patient y/n during the holidays? He is her doctor on Xmas or NYE 🧐 thoughts?

I sort of missed answering prompts???? Thanks for sending this in, I hope you like it! I ended up going with NYE

Warnings: mentions of blood, clumsiness, and smut!

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

Y/N isn't normally one to complain. Any time she thinks to, "Kim, there are people that are dying", swarms through her head.

The night started off so promising. Y/N was headed to a friend's part for NYE. Her friend's apartment has a great view of the fireworks. She was also excited because her friend said a very cute guy that Y/N should definitely meet would be attending. Not that Y/N is shallow, but when her friend said the man in question was a doctor, well, Y/N got a little giddy.

She was all dressed up and ready to go. A sequin dress, dark tights, and heels accompanied with a bold red lipstick. She was feeling good. A few friends thought it would be fun to pregame before going to the party. Just a few shots with the girlies, nothing crazy. Y/N was nervous to meet the doctor, so she had no qualms with pregaming.

Except, on the way to the party, since she was a little tipsy, Y/N stripped and fell on the sidewalk. Why they didn't just take an Uber, she'll never know. Her friends laughed until they saw Y/N's face. Her lips busted open and it's bleeding, her tights ripped at her knees, and one of them was gushing blood. And on top of all that, one of her heels broke. Her friends scooped her up, ordered an Uber, and took her to the emergency room.

Her knees were stinging, her lip was throbbing, and she;s just noticing how scraped up her palms are. She's trying to keep cool in front of her friends. This is a huge delay in their plans, and she feels terrible that it's because of her. Not to mention, what if the cute doctor guy ends up talking to some other girl because Y/N is stuck at the hospital.

One of the nurses gave her a compress to keep against the knee that was heavily bleeding while one of her friends helped fill out some forms.

"Guys, go on ahead to the party," she told them, "I'll be fine."

"We're not leaving you, Y/N. It's not even 9PM, we have plenty of time to get to Francesca's." One of her friends said.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" A nurse says her name blandly, no urgency, just annoyance in her tone.

"That's me." Y/N says, and stands up. One of her friends is ready to go with her, but the nurse holds up her hand.

"Just the patient, unless you're family. We still have some COVID procedures here."

Y/N followed the nurse into a small room where she took her vitals. Y/N was still actively bleeding from her knee and lip, but the nurse didn't seem to care, or think it was that big of a deal.

"Alright, the doctor should be in shortly." The nurse and leaves the room before Y/N can ask any questions.

It takes ten minutes until she hears a knock on the door and the doctor comes in.

"Hi, sorry. I was halfway out the door when they asked me to stay, so I had to get back into my scrubs and..." The doctor looks at Y/N who is now sobbing. She's been silently crying for about five minutes, but now the floodgates are open. "You must be in a lot of pain." He sits on the stool and scoots over to her. "Let's take a look at that knee."

"I'm s-sorry." She cries. "I ruined my own night, my friends' night, and now yours." She hiccups, then hisses when the doctor takes the compress off her knee.

"You didn't ruin my night, don't worry." He gets up and puts some gloves on, then grabs the necessary items needed to clean the wound. "This'll sting a little. Feel free to grab my shoulder or something if you need something to hold onto."

"Do you think I'll need stitch-ow!" Out of instinct, she presses his chest with her foot and pushes him back. "What the hell?!"

"I told you it would sting." He looks down at his scrubs that now have a wet footprint on it. "Where are your shoes?"

"In the lobby with my friends. One of my heels broke, so I just walked without them. And that was more than a sting! That was, like, a bee sting, much worse than a regular sting."

"Your skin's probably just raw. What even happened, how did you get like this?"

"I tripped and fell. Ah!" This time she grabs onto his hair and tugs hard as he continues to clean up her knee.

The doctor takes a deep breath and removes Y/N's hand from his head. "I said you could grab my shoulder."

"It hurts!"

"I have to cut your stockings a bit so I can get a look at your entire knee." He scoots back, grabs scissors, then scoots back to her. "I hope you weren't attached to these."

"They're ruined anyways. Go on, cut away."

"So, what'd you trip on?"

"Myself." She groans. "We were leaving a pregame before heading to a party at my friend's apartment."

"Ah, been there." He stretches the material until it tares. He can see how swollen Y/N's knee is. "This swelled up like a cantaloupe, no wonder it hurts so much. Did you land right on the cap?"

"Yeah, and then I skidded." She wipes under her eyes and pouts. "I must look like a racoon."

"You don't." He looks up at her briefly. "You won't need stitches, but you need some skin glue and a bandage. I'll take care of this first, then we can take care of your lip. It looks like it's clotted, so you're not bleeding now."

"Okay." She sighs and slumps a little. "You never told me your name."

"Oh! Sorry." He squeezes the glue onto his gloved finger and puts it on the wound. "I'm Dr. Styles."

"Styles? Is...is your first name Harry?"

"Yeah." He's busy concentrating on closing her wound, so he doesn't see the horrified look on her face. He puts the bandage over it and presses it firmly.

"This wasn't how I was supposed to meet you." She slides her hands down her face.

"We were supposed to meet?" He looks up at her, confused.

"Yes, I'm Y/N Y/L/N...my friend, who's having the party I was going to, was supposed to set us up tonight."

"Your Francesca's friend Y/N?" He smiles. "That's crazy. I was on my way to the party when they told me to stay and help you. Guess it was fate, one way or another."

"I'm a mess..."

"You had an accident." He chuckles and stands up once her knee is secure. He grips her chin to get a better look at her lip. "Top lip's the one that's busted. You're swollen here too. I'll give you some ice in a bit."

"Does it need a stitch?"

"Nope, but I'll put some glue on it so it can heal a little faster. I'm gonna clean this up. It shouldn't hurt like your knee, but it'll still sting." He gets a cotton pad wet with some alcohol, "Now that I know we were technically supposed to be on a blind date tonight, feel free to tug at my hair all you want." He smirks, and Y/N's cheeks redden.

"Jesus!" She hisses as he cleans up her lip.

"You're kind of a baby." He dabs at her lip a few more times, then gets some glue onto his gloved finger. "What do you do for work?"

"I am a baby, I'll admit it. I have a very low tolerance for pain. I'm in IT, I work for that Norton company, the one that protects your computer from malware."

"Wow, that's a huge company. Good for you. Do you, like, code, or...?"

"Sort of. I basically figure out how hackers hack so I can build a stronger code that hackers can't hack."

"You know, while you were talking, I finished taking care of your lip. Guess you're someone that needs a distraction."

"Yeah, guess so. Um, thank you."

"You're welcome." He sits back down on the stool and just looks at her. "I have a sort of wild idea. You're pretty banged up and don't have shoes, and I'm honestly not a fan of huge parties. So, what if I take you home so you can change into something more comfortable, I'll order us some takeout, then we can go back to mine to watch the fireworks. I have a decent view, might even be better than Francesca's."

"I kicked you, screamed, and almost ripped your hair out, and you still want to spend the night together?"

"Y/N, I'm gonna be completely honest, if we weren't at my place of work, I'd lock the door and rip your tights open in a much more private area."

"Oh." Her heart starts racing. "Well, uh, considering that I won't be able to get on my knees tonight, I guess you'll have to."

Harry grins and stands up. "I'm gonna let the nurse know you're all set so you can check out. Wait for me out front in the lobby. I just need to change and grab my stuff. I'm parking in the hospital's garage."

"Alright."

Once Y/N is back with her friends, she tells them everything and lets them know they can leave and that she'll check in throughout the night.

Harry drives Y/N home in a comfortable silence. She was grateful Harry wasn't talking her ear off. She just wanted to focus on pressing the ice pack he gave her to her knee.

"I'd offer to go up with you, but I really want to make it to my place." He tells her.

"No worries. I won't be long. I'm just gonna grab a different pair of shoes and throw some sweats into a bag. I can just change when we get there."

"Works for me."

Y/N goes as quickly as she can to get up to her apartment, grab what she needs, and get back down to Harry's care. In reality, it was barely ten minutes.

Harry pulls up to his building about twenty minutes later, and hands his keys to the valet.

"Oh, so you're like, rich, rich." Y/N jokes.

"You live in a nice building too." Harry laughs. "I like knowing my car is safe in the building's garage, and it's so easy to hand the keys to the valet. "Our takeout will be brought up to my door. I got tons of different Chinese food. Does that work?"

"Chinese food is perfect."

They head into the elevator and ride up to Harry's floor. He leads her into his condo and gets her a glass of water.

"This is a great place." She tells him.

"Thanks, I like it a lot."

"And there's your view, your couch is in the perfect spot." Y/N goes over to it and sits down. Harry sits down next to her. He puts his arm around her shoulders.

"Is this okay?" He asks softly.

"Yeah." Her eyes flit to his lips. "How am I supposed to kiss you with my busted lip?"

"Your bottom lip isn't busted." He reaches with his free hand and presses his thumb into it. "Wanna give it a try?"

"Yes." She nods and lets her eyes flutter closed.

Harry's lips gently takes Y/N's bottom lip between them. The tip of his tongue swipes over it before giving it a little suck. He pulls back to look at her. "Okay?"

"Yeah, do it again." She slides her arms around his neck and pulls him close.

Y/N parts her lips and licks into Harry's mouth. He moans softly against her and grips her jaw. They both sink into it a little more, but Y/N whimpers and pulls back.

"This is so annoying." She frowns. "It hurts too much."

"How's your neck feel?"

"Fine, why?"

"Can I kiss you there?"

"Yes." She nods. "And I work from home, so you can leave marks."

"You get better by the second." He grinned and leaned forward to start kissing on her neck.

He licks up the side and nips at the spot just under her earlobe. Y/N slides her fingers into Harry's hair and moans as his teeth graze her skin.

"Can't handle an alcohol wipe to a wound, but you're panting like a dog from getting your neck bitten." He smirks. "Interesting."

"I'm a very complex person."

"I can see that." He looks down between them, then back up at her. "Can I go down on you?"

"What?!" She laughs. "Why, so you can do it for two seconds and pretend like you did me a huge favor just to get your dick wet?"

"Um, no, because I like it and I want to taste you and make you feel good."

"Be serious."

"I am." He puts his hand on her shoulder and lays her down. "Let me prove it."

"Be my guest." She opens her legs. "Rip them like you said you would have."

Harry rucks up the skirt of Y/N's dress and gets a grip on the crotch of her tights. He rips them easily and is delighted to see her bare cunt. He spits down onto it and puts his mouth on her, sucking his spit back in, then spitting it into her. He drags his tongue up her clit and swirls the tip of his tongue around it. He spreads her legs wider, pressing his large hands into her thighs. He moans as he sucks on her clit, and moans harder when he feels her fingers suddenly tugging at his roots.

He brings his tongue back down to her opening and licks inside, sucking on her entire pussy. Y/N moans and writhes under him, feeling squirmy and hot and good. His tongue curls up against her spongey front wall and he brings his thumb to her clit to rub on.

"Oh, shit." She gasps and arches her back. "Fuck, just like that, don't stop." Her head moves from side to side and her hips roll towards Harry's mouth. She tugs on his hair and pushes his face harder against her. He moans and chuckles lowly into her, eating her sloppily without a care in the world. "I'm getting close." She mewls. "Please, don't stop. Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, dddddohhhhhh my god!" She comes around his tongue in waves, grinding herself down against him.

Harry pulls back just a touch, licking and sucking over Y/N's folds, then brings himself to hover over her. He pecks her lips. His nose squishes to her and they both smile. The doorbell rings and they both sit up.

"That's the food." Harry says.

"Great. I bet it's piping hot."

"Definitely."

"So, it'll need time to cool down." She stands up with him. "Maybe we could continue this in your bedroom to pass the time?"

And that's how Y/N ended up missing the fireworks at Francesca's party. She missed them at Harry's as well, but that was only because he was fucking into her so deeply that he was able to give her a vaginal orgasm. 2024 is going to be a great year, she can feel it.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #doctor!h #doctorry

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kdecays · 21 days

Text

°Polaroid°📷

°Summary°: Chris is your sneaky link and your in the car and getting freaky and decide to take pictures

°Warnings°: oral (female receiving), sex tape kinda if you count taking pictures of it, fingering, p in v😋

Big dick Chris🤑

I'm omw

Read 9:30 pm

Chris is my lil sneaky link and we have been hanging out without having sex for a while now. We will go out and eat and then go shop or whatever. But lately it's been feeling less like hooking up and more like actually dating almost.

Tonight he says he wants to link up so that mean I have to shave everything really quick. I make sure I use all my good scented scrubs and body wash.

I quickly get out the shower and pick out a cute black lace bra and a black thong. Over that I just wear some tight black short, shorts and a long sleeve.

I don't do to much makeup but enough to make sure I don't look stupid.

I've just gotten a Polaroid camera and I feel like it would be sexy if we could take some pictures. Knowing Chris he would wouldnt say no.

Big dick Chris🤑

I'm outside

Read 10:53

I quickly grab my bag and spray my 'Bare Vanilla' body spray all over me.

I walk down my apartment stairs and see his car waiting. As I'm walking up to the car I see Chris smiling at me through the window.

I open the door and put my seatbelt on. "You smell really good. Is it vanilla ?" Chris asks. "Yeah, should I wear it more often?" I giggle. He nods in agreement.

"okay put ur music on." Chris demands. I grab the aux cord and start playing 'A$ap Rocky'.

'Canal St. (Feat. Bones)' starts playing and I start tapping my fingers to the beat of the song.

We arrive to an empty parking lot and just start talking for a little bit.

"so I have a proposal to make..." I ask nervously. " I brought my Polaroid and I was thinking we could take pictures of us." I ask quickly.

"fuck yes. Now I can have a picture of ur tits." Chris says. I giggle. I climb in the back of the car as Chris follows.

I get the Polaroid out of my bag. "Cmon lets take a picture for a before and after." I laugh. Chris giggles and leans in and smiles.

The flash is brighter than normal because we are in the dark. I feel Chris put his hand on my thigh.

I face him and smile. I stare at his pink lips. He picks up my thighs so I'm straddling him. I lean in start making out with him. He's gripping my ass and with each squeeze I grind up on him. Soon enough I feel something growing underneath me.

Chris breaks the kiss to help me take off my shirt as I take off his.

He starts biting and sucking on my neck leaving me more than one mark on my neck. He's feeling my whole body up and down.

I take off my shorts and Chris grabs the waist band of my thong and pulls it to make a slap noise. The sting from the waist band hitting me hard makes me slightly arch my back.

He continues to grip and slap my ass, with each movement I moan into his mouth with pleasure.

I start searching for the Polaroid next to us. I quickly find it and instantly snap a shot of the both of us making out.

Chris breaks the kiss while doing so he manages to take his shorts and boxers off. His hard dick instantly springs up hitting his stomach.

His hands find their way to my heat. He starts to rub my clit in circles over my panties. The circular motions make me moan in disbelief.

"fuck Chris!" I moan loudly. He quickly moves my panties to the side but still continues to rub my clit. He immediately sticks two fingers in my wet pussy.

"oh my god Chris!" I moan arching my back in pleasure. "I want to hear u scream my name." Chris says seductively.

"how bad do u want me in u? Huh." Chris' voice is muffled by moans so I don't hear him. Suddenly Chris lifts his free hand and makes a harsh slap to my ass causing me to jolt.

"I said how bad do you want me." Chris says in a serious tone." "Please Chris- oh my god I need you in me!" I say with moans slipping out between each demand.

With Chris's free hand I can feel him searching for something. He quickly find the Polaroid and takes a whole body side view.

Chris removes his fingers from inside me. "Show me your tits." I quickly take off my bra and my tits fall out with a bounce. I pose by cupping my tits. Chris snaps a shot and quickly gets back to business.

He puts the Polaroid back down and slaps my ass once more. I slowly start lifting myself up so his dick can slide into me. He slowly slides into me with ease. He fits inside me perfectly.

I start to bounce up and down with each bounce hitting me in the right spot each time. "Fuck Chris you're so big!" He puts his hands on my hips guiding me up and down smoothly.

With each bounce I can hear my wetness from my pussy. I soon feel a familiar sensation going through my whole body. "Fuck Chris I'm gonna cum!" I moan. I soon feel Chris twitch inside me. "Cum with me." Chris demands.

I release myself first with Chris quickly after. I continue my bouncing very slowing rocking back and forth.

Chris helps my lift off him and I sit down. "Face me and spread your legs so I can see that wet pussy" Chris says while aiming the Polaroid toward me.

I put my legs together and bend them lifting them slightly so the camera can see all my juices coming out of my hole.

"good girl."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Authors note: hi idk how to end it but yeah. Anyways this plot was something that my friend went through with one of her links. They took Polaroids of it all and she showed me lol. Anyways yea I was just doing smth late at night and I thought of this. I'll prolly make fluffs or snaps idk.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #Smut #Imagines #Fan fic

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lcahwriter · 2 years

Text

Running (Part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

TW: Anxiety, past abuse, stalking, mentions of sex but no actual smut.

Summary: You ran across the country to the place you knew you’d be the safest- with Maverick on a Navy base somewhere in California. Your plan was to lay low until the coast was clear - but then you met Bradley Bradshaw.

Will you be able to escape the man who was determined to find you? Will you be able to keep Bradley safe? To fall in love again?

COMPLETED SERIES! Masterlist <—

Authors note: Holy shit, this has been a fun one to write. Please enjoy!

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It was 4pm on a Tuesday, the slowest day of the week at the Hard Deck. You mundanely polished the shot glasses that sat on the bar counter. Despite slow days being your least favorite – you were still thrilled to be working and not stuck alone at Mavericks house.

The Hard Deck and the navy base were the only places Mav allowed you to go to alone. Well- allowed was a harsh word. It was more of an agreement between the two of you. You knew it wasn’t safe to be alone right now, as much as you longed for the freedom. It had been 4 months since you moved in with Mav. He was like family to you- and when shit hit the fan you knew he was the right person to seek refuge in.

“Scrub those anymore and they might just disappear.”

You grinned and looked up from the shot glass. It was Bradley, a customer now turned… somewhat of a friend who was very easy on the eyes. He was wearing his usual outfit of perfectly fitting jeans and a Hawaiian shirt that complemented his sun kissed skin. You’d only seen him in his navy uniform once- he said he hated the attention it brought. You wanted to tell him he still got the attention of everyone in the room without it – but you figured he’d been flattered enough in his lifetime.

Bradley introduced himself 3 months ago on the night of your first shift. He had tried to ask you out a few times now, but you had so far successfully denied all his advances. It’s not that you weren’t attracted to him, because holy shit you definitely were. It was because you knew that if he really knew why you were here. He would want nothing to do with you.

“Another dad joke to start the evening with?” you teased him and set down the glass. You found it hard to know where to look at him since his black aviators covered his eyes. You settled on his lips- which was a big mistake. He noticed where you were staring by the looks of the tiny smirk appearing on his face.

“I was just stopping by to see how my favorite bar tender is doing.” Bradley’s voice was flirty as he leaned up against the bar and took a seat. You couldn’t help but keep grinning. He was a big flirt and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention. As well as the company. Finding friends, the last four months was basically impossible.

“I’m doing just dandy Bradshaw.” You said whilst filling up a glass with his favorite beer. “Same as usual.”

Bradley scoffed.

“Not giving up much information. Same as usual” he mocked back at me. You rolled your eyes and slid the beer over the counter to him. Bradley had started to ask more questions the last few weeks. All questions that you really couldn’t answer.

“Why are you living with Mav?”

“What brought you to California”

“What did you do before bartending?”

“What’s your family like?”

“Okay fine, I am happy to report I went to the movies today.” You said confidently. Hoping that this bit of personal information would satisfy him. He looked at you through squinted eyes.

“You went to a movie today? Like before work?” He questioned. There was amusement behind his eyes. You crossed your arms.

“Yes, at the theatre on base. So what? There’s nothing wrong with a good movie before work.” Bradley let out a giggle and you shot him daggers with your eyes.

“Well, I would say most people go to the movies at night and on a weekend - definitely not at senior discount hour on a Tuesday” He grinned widely.

“Unbelievable – I finally tell you something about my day and you make fun of me for it.” You still hadn’t uncrossed your arms, but your lips were curving into a small smile.

“I think its adorable.” He says, taking a sip of his beer while beaming at you. You tried to hide your blush by looking down.

You gripped the edge of the counter when the flattery you felt turned into a deep, lulling fear in your chest. The man who was after you used to take you home and beat you if a man like Bradley complimented you at a bar.

You swallowed and tried to shake off the fear. You knew you were safe here. Maverick knew you were safe here too. The Hard Deck wasn’t a military base, but it might as well be. The place was always crawling with military men and women. No one would be able to hurt you here. Not without a fight anyway.

“You okay?”

You shook yourself out of the trance you were in when you heard Bradshaw’s voice.

“Fuck, yeah I’m sorry.” You said, rubbing your hand through your hair quickly. “Just zoned out” You said, trying to convince him you were alright.

“If the flirting is crossing the line…” He began to say but you cut him off.

“No!” You might have said that a little too quickly. “I mean. No, I like us flirting. I just- my head was somewhere else just then.” You reached over the counter and cupped your hand over his for a moment before taking it away. He looked shocked at the gesture. You honestly were surprised at yourself too.

It was the first time you’d ever touched him. He was so warm and rough- but somehow still so gentle. You were trying your god damn hardest to ignore the tingles in your hand.

A group of 6 or 7 people walked up to the bar and you thanked GOD that you somehow had an excuse to walk away from the awkward as shit conversation you were having. You flashed Bradley a smile before turning around quickly to attend to the rowdy group of customers.

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You burst into the small kitchen making a B-line for the fridge. You didn’t even bother to acknowledge Mav’s presence at the kitchen table. All you could think about was water. You filled up a glass of cold water before hastily bringing it to your lips.

You looked over your glass to see Maverick looking at you questionably.

“Try to run a mile again?” he asked.

“Two miles for your information” you retorted before filling up the empty glass once more. Your body was aching, and sweat was dripping from your forehead.

“Why do people run? Dear god its torture I swear.” You sat down at the table across from Maverick, finally feeling yourself calm down from an embarrassingly short run.

“Your therapist said it would be good for you right?”

A pang of shame popped into your chest. You nodded anyways.

“Something about helping with the anxiety.” You murmured, avoiding eye contact.

Mav was the closest thing you had to a father. Yours jumped ship as soon as you were born. But you always remember Mav being there. Between deployments and military orders, he would come by and take you and your mom out for ice cream- or to the movies. You were pretty sure your mom was in love with him at one point. But she still won’t admit that.

You missed her. But staying with her wasn’t an option. Not until this was all over. You were safest at a secured area.

“Have you heard from John?” you questioned hopefully.

John had been working with you and Maverick since you arrived in California. He was supposed to be the best private investigator around. You fucking hoped he was anyways, because neither you or Maverick could afford to pay him much longer.

“He texted me an update last night.” Mav sat back in his seat and ran his hands through his thick brown hair.

“He told me he’s still trying to recover the deleted pictures from your phone and home security cameras. He has tabs on Tim in Colorado. He is laying low there for God knows what.” Mavs jaw was clenched for a split second. You hardly ever saw him angry, but when Tim was brought up, he immediately soured – as did you. “Said once he recovers the files it will be enough evidence the Feds will have no choice but to move in on him.”

You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. You had to involve the feds because Tim was a lead investigator at the police department in Virginia. You had tried to report him locally before- but somehow Tim would find out and nearly kill you. He had convinced everyone you were a “crazy” girlfriend. It was a hopeless situation. Until you finally ran.

“Still can’t believe an audio recording of him threatening to kill me isn’t enough.” You said sarcastically and stood up.

Mav shook his head and looked at you with sympathetic eyes. You had discussed this at length before. There was nothing either of you could do besides keep you safe and wait for John to gather evidence.

“You working at the bar tonight?” He asks. You nod.

“Yup. I better get in the shower. I’ve gotta be there by 3”

“Call me if you need me kid” He yells as you walk up the stairs of the tiny base housing.

“Always!” you shout back with a small smile on your face. You tried to ignore the aching in your chest from the conversation about Tim. Working at the Hard Deck tonight would be a good distraction from reality. Plus, you made more money there than you ever did as a Kindergarten teacher.

Your room at Mav’s place was small, but it was safe and that’s all you really cared about. You got ready for work, trying your hardest to convince yourself you weren’t wearing jeans that made your butt look good for any reason other than that they were comfortable. The tight red tank top that showed a lot more boob than you usually put on display- well that was definitely for Bradley Bradshaw. There was no denying that.

You knew you would never let him really know you- and you were pretty sure he knew that too. You were just a tease- someone he could never have. Someone nobody could have – at least not for a long time. Bradshaw was interested because he didn’t know you – once he found out you were running from a Psycho ex- he’d run like hell the other way.

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It was Saturday night so naturally; the bar was packed. Penny was working with you tonight, which helped relieve some of the anxiety you felt about the lines of people waiting for drinks. You had only been able to talk to Bradley for a few minutes before being swept away in craziness that was Saturday night at the Hard Deck.

“Hey sweetcheeks, can I get a beer?” You looked up to see Jake, or Hangman as he had so kindly informed you many, many, many times.

“Sure thing” You went to grab the 10$ bill in his hand but he snatched it out of your reach. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Give me a kiss first.” He taunted, leaning his cheek towards you as if you would actually kiss him. You would literally rather run a marathon. Which is saying A LOT. Even if it was just on the cheek.

You took advantage of his eyes being shut and ripped the 10$ bill out of his hand.

“Never in a million years” You glared at him. Jake groaned at his failed attempt in flirting. You wanted to punch him in the face more times than you could count. But his flirting was pretty much harmless, besides the constant mental undressing of you every time you were in his vicinity.

You looked over at Bradley who was glaring at Hangman from across the bar. He looked like he was about murder him. His hand was wrapped around his beer with a death grip. You sighed and decided going over to talk to Bradley was way more fun than getting Jakes beer in a timely manner. Bradley noticed you walking towards him – he sat up and his body visibly let go of the tension it was holding.

“Hey” you said stupidly. He let a small grin come onto his face. A much more refreshing look than the death glare he had seconds ago.

“Hey” he says back softly. You sigh and grab his glass before refilling it on the beer tap beside you. Bradley’s eyes poured into yours. They were so beautiful and warm. You scanned the rest of his face. It was a masterpiece really. And fuck, he looked so good in the plain white t-shirt he was wearing. You tried not to stare at his muscles- but you just couldn’t help yourself.

A loud shout and crash startled you out of your trance. Your body went ridged at the sound of glass shattering on the floor. You turned to see that the freshly washed glasses stacked on the corner of the bar had been knocked over by someone.

The shattering still rang through your ears loudly. Your heart rate started to pick up and you could hear your blood pumping in every single part of your body. Your head was pulsing – your heart was beating out of your chest. You tried to breath but instead you choked on air. You knew you were in the bar- but your brain thought you were back with him, trapped.

The pain was like no other pain you’d felt. Glass was all around you – you were covered in it. You looked down to see the clear shards turning a deep red. You could smell your own blood coming from all around you. You tried to get up from the glass but he was holding you there, letting you die –

“Y/N!” An arm shook your shoulder roughly. You looked up to see Penny with concern written all over her face. You started to breath faster. You looked past her to the glass on the floor, causing you to wince. Penny looked back at the glass and then back to you.

“What’s going on?” She asked gently, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. You backed away from her touch. You were somehow still standing, even with the panic rising in your chest. You looked to your right to see Bradley. Who looked like he was about to vault over the counter to get to you.

“Y/N…” he said with worry thick in his tone.

“I have to go.” You quickly said before dashing out of the bar towards the back door. You didn’t look back. You barely made it through the back door before vomiting in a bush to the left of the building. The anxiety was causing your stomach to wrench up all its contents. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night. The glass – the blood.

You sucked in air too quickly, time and time again despite your greatest efforts to calm your breathing. You slid down the cold wall of the building and tucked your knees to your chest.

You heard the back door open, causing you to flinch. Your eyes were so blurry from your tears you couldn’t make out who was there. You started to slide your body away from the figure.

“It’s Bradley.”

That made you stop. His voice was so gentle. So kind. You let out a loud sob between gasps for air. You could be embarrassed about it later.

“Stay away from me” You warn, as he walks towards you. He doesn’t listen and keeps walking. You wanted him to stay away – to go away. You didn’t want him to see you like this. He reached out his hand but you backed away harshly.

“Don’t touch me.” You said, shoving yourself against the wall in effort to escape him. He jerks back as if he had been burned by your words.

“Okay, I won’t touch you.” He said calmly.

He slid down the same wall you were against – but about 5 feet away. You breathed heavily.

“Please leave” you said, tears running down your face into your knees tucked under your chin.

This was so fucking embarrassing. You thought. You just wanted to disappear. How the hell were you supposed to come up with an excuse for freaking out over broken glass?

“I can’t leave you out here alone.” He says. You look up to see him staring at the night sky.

You shuddered at the thought of what could happen if you were alone. If he found you somehow. He would kill you.

Your thoughts got your body shaking again. Bradley noticed.

“What did you have for lunch today?” he asked. You popped your head from your knees to glance at him. He smiled softly when your eyes met him.

“Chicken nuggets” you replied, a shaky laugh left your lips. Bradley laughed loudly. “And you?” You ask weakly. You could already feel your breathing starting to slow with his silly distraction.

“Ramen noodles” he said with a sheepish look on his face. You laughed and then hiccupped immediately after. You lifted your head from your knees completely and let the back of your head lay against the cold wall. You were shaking from the fear, but it was slowly fading.

You sat in silence looking at the sky above you for at least 10 minutes before you felt the confidence to speak.

“Thank you” you say to Bradley, who was already looking over at you. His brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

“Anytime.” Is all he says, before looking back at the stars. You stared at him like he was art. Because he was, you couldn’t deny it.

“You have experience with panic attacks?” You ask. He perks up at your question.

“What makes you think that?” He avoided the question.

“You knew to distract me. And to give me space.” You say, inching closer to him by sliding on the concrete. He avoided eye contact with you but nodded.

“I get them sometimes. Not so much anymore though.” He swallowed hard and you could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it. You reached out and grabbed his hand gently.

You knew you would regret it later. But in this moment, you wanted nothing more than to intertwine your fingers with his to somehow comfort both you and him at the same time. His large fingers wrapped around your hand. His thumb rubbed circles slowly on your hand, making goosebumps fly up your arms.

“You’re running from something” Bradley says quietly. You stiffen immediately but he keeps rubbing circles around your hand.

“What makes you think that?” You croak. You felt tears well in your eyes, but you bit your lip hard enough to make it bleed in attempt to stop them.

“You won’t talk about why you’re here. Or why you’re living with Mav.” He explains gently. “You’re always looking over your shoulder like someone might be there”

You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. Fresh tears rolled down your face. Bradley kept rubbing slow and soft circles around your fingers. You hated that he elicited this kind of response from you. A feeling of trust and safety that had to be something you just imagined in your head.

You didn’t want to give away any information. The fact that you were sitting here alone, holding his hand was bad enough. To feel safe with a man like Bradley gave you goosebumps. It made you think of an array of dirty thoughts that you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.

Everything in you wanted to break the rules you set for yourself and pour your heart out to him. But you stopped yourself before you could.

“I need to go home. Will you tell Penny that I had to leave early?” You stood up and shakily wiped the back of your pants off. You tried to ignore how cold your hand felt now that it wasn’t enveloped under his.

“I’ll drive you home.” Bradley said sternly. He stood up next to you, towering over you. Good god you never noticed how big he was compared to you.

“I can drive myself.” You insisted while trying your hardest to avoid looking him in the eyes.

“Please- just – just let me drive you home so I don’t worry about you.” He paused for a moment “and I think Mav would kill me if he found out I let you drive home after tonight.”

Well, he was right about that one. You could try to hide what happened tonight when you got home hours earlier than expected. But you knew Maverick would eventually hear something about what happened from Penny.

“Fine”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * *

His car was nice, new and clean. It smelt like him. You scowled when you realized even his god damn car brought you comfort.

You looked over at the masterpiece driving beside you. His golden tan skin drew your eyes in. His arms and hands flexed whilst he drove, and you swear to god he was doing that shit on purpose. The scars on the side of his neck and face showed through the passing headlights. You found them beautiful.

You had scars too- but they made you want to vomit. You hid them away under your clothes and long hair. You even avoided looking in the mirror before showering. It was too much to see what he had done to you.

You clenched your jaw at the thought of that night again. You hated that your brain couldn’t let the trauma go. No matter how hard you wanted to forget it.

Bradley noticed you tense up, because of course he did.

Fuck.

He broke the heavy silence, just as you expected.

“Tell me what you’re running from. I can help you.” He looked over at you, and then back at the road. He looked determined.

You shifted in your seat and tugged at the fabric on your pant leg nervously. That wasn’t what you expected him to say.

“I don’t want you to get involved.” And that was the honest truth.

“Are you running because you did something illegal?” He asked, full seriousness in his voice. You snorted out a laugh.

“No. I promise I’m not a fugitive or anything” you joked, but Bradley remained serious.

“Well, then I want to be involved. Whatever it is.”

You gulped and thought about his offer. You didn’t need help escaping from Tim. You were already in the safest place you could be. But he could help you in other ways. Comfort. Companionship. Laughter. Pleasure … you clenched your thighs together instinctively. It had been years since you felt any kind of pleasure from a man.

You knew crossing that line with him would be a mistake- But God, when you looked at Bradley- you wanted to break all the god damn rules.

“You can’t help me.” You said looking out the window into the night sky. “Plus, you don’t even know me. Helping me makes no sense.” Your heart panged with sadness. Him not knowing you was the only excuse you could think of to push him away.

“I want to know you.” He said softly.

“And don’t act like I don’t know anything about you.” He mused, taking a glance at you with playful eyes. “I know your favorite beer AND that you like going to see movies with old people on Tuesdays”

You laughed and couldn’t help but smile. You shook your head and stared at him.

“Fuck.” is all you said before letting your head hit the back of the seat.

“What was that?” He asked, eyebrows raised. You stayed silent thinking about whether you should break all the rules or be good and ignore Bradley Bradshaw for the rest of your life.

“I said Fuck.” You repeated, sitting up a little straighter and puffing out your chest to gain your composure. Bradley pulled up to Mavs house and parked his car in the driveway. It was dark out, and with the headlights off you could only see parts of the man sitting next to you.

“Fuck, what exactly?” He wriggled his eyebrows and you punched him in the arm.

“You’re an idiot.” You said, smiling. You swallowed and enjoyed the feeling of being with him. You wanted to cherish it.

You looked into his brown eyes and got lost. You LET yourself fully let go for a moment. You scanned him from his hair to his thighs. You listened to his slow breathing, and you swore it was quiet enough to hear his heartbeat.

“I’m not running from something. I’m running from someone” you blurted out. You watched Bradley take in your words. His face went from shocked, curious, worried and angry all within a few moments. He stayed silent.

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” You said blankly. Slumping in your seat. You had expected to feel relieved. But instead, you felt anxiety. Fear of having to tell him more – things that you weren’t ready to admit.

“You can’t keep everything to yourself” he nudged. You wanted to run from him. You wanted to slam the car door in his face and destroy the stupid feelings that were bubbling in your chest.

“Mav knows everything. He’s like a father to me. That’s why I came here -I knew I’d be safe. Guarded by the navy and all that.” You joked half-heartedly.

Bradley mustered up a small smile, but you could tell he had a million questions to ask. You appreciated his patience.

“The glass tonight….” You trailed off and shook your head. Your eyes fell to your lap. Were you really telling Bradley Bradshaw this? When you thought about it you didn’t even know him. You had tried your best to avoid that. He wasn’t supposed to really mean anything to you – and you were just supposed to be a tease to him.

But here you are, sitting with him alone in his car- pouring your fucking heart out.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask, looking up at Bradley curiously. He raised an eyebrow.

“Blue. And yours?”

“Green.” You explain. “Forest green, like the redwoods up north.”

Bradley hummed in response. His hands were sitting in his lap and you couldn’t help but wish they were holding yours. But you were too much of a chicken to admit that.

“I’m sorry. I just realized I hardly know you.” You admitted, giving him a small smile. “Yet here I am, about to dump all my secrets to you.” You were joked, once again to try to ease the anxiety you felt.

“Sure you do. I mean you’ve talked to me almost every day for the last three months.”

You shrugged.

“Good point.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned towards him, flipping your legs up to sit crisscrossed. You leaned your back against the car door and sighed.

“The glass.” You said shakily. “It uh- reminded me…”

Fuck this was hard to talk about. But isn’t this what your therapist had told you to do? Not bottle up the memories when they arise? Make friends?

“He pushed me through a sliding glass door. I landed backwards all over the glass.” You couldn’t muster up the courage to look at Bradley. “He thought I would tell the paramedics about the abuse. I had to beg him to call the ambulance.” You whispered softly.

“So, when I heard the glass tonight- it just brought me back.” You felt the scars on the back of your neck and body burn. You sucked in a breath and peaked a glance at Bradley.

He was tense. He looked like he was trying to contain his emotions by clenching his fists in his lap. His jaw was clamped shut. But you also noticed sadness in his eyes, a true sadness that you weren’t expecting.

“That was 6 months ago.” You twisted your lips together and debated if you should continue spilling your guts out to the man across from you. You decided you’d take the risk.

“I managed to run away from him while he was on a work trip. I went to my mom’s house a few states away, but it was only a few days before he showed up” You felt your voice grow weak. “I was at the store when he came to the house– he threatened to hurt my mom.” The pain you felt in your chest was palpable.

“I called Mav and told him I needed to hide. Until I had enough evidence for the feds to arrest him.” You looked at Bradley. “I called him on a payphone before I came here and told him to stay away from my family – because I was going to go somewhere he would never find me.” You pushed your hair behind your ears nervously. “The last thing he said was that when he found me, he would kill me.”

Bradley’s face hardened and you could see his neck was turning red with anger.

“He won’t find you.” His voice was strong and assuring. “You’ll be safe here.”

You gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, I know.” You said lightly.

Bradley gulped and hesitantly reached for your hand. You quickly met him halfway and allowed his hand to envelope yours. The intertwined hands rested on your lap.

“Thank you for telling me.” He said, rubbing those damn circles with his thumb on your hand again.

“And I swear to god that son of a bitch will not come near you again.” His voice was dark when he spoke. You gulped.

“Yeah. I really hope so.” You looked down at your hands and flinched at the thoughts that came into your mind.

“He would kill me if he knew I was holding your hand.” You said quietly. Bradley tensed.

“He’s not going to hurt you again.” He promised, giving your hand a squeeze. “I won’t let him.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you.” You emphasized. “If he saw you with me. Even- even as friends – he would- he could.” Bradley interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“But he won’t. He won’t hurt me, and he won’t hurt you. Okay?” His eyes met yours and you could see how serious he was. Your heart ached.

This man, who you barley fucking knew was promising to keep you safe. Was swearing that nothing would happen to you again. It didn’t feel real. You knew that promising safety wasn’t a reality.

“You’re insane.” Is all you could think of to say back to him. He cracked a big grin- which was a relief to see over his I’m going to kill your ex- boyfriend look.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told that.” You smirked and took in a deep breath.

Before you could speak, he did.

“Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow.”

You laughed loudly and looked at him only to see that he was dead serious.

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”

Bradley laughed louder than you had.

“You know that’s the second time today you’ve called me an idiot. But somehow, I’m still infatuated with you.” He was full on smiling now, and you wished he didn’t look so fucking good.

“I just told you that my psycho ex is out to KILL me.” You reiterated. When he didn’t even flinch, you continued. “AND that if he even saw you with me, he would want to KILL you too!” You exclaimed, fear once again overtaking you. Bradley sat up and leaned into your space while looking deep into your eyes.

“Let me make this clear sweetheart. I’m not scared of that bastard.” He let go of your hand and reached up to your cheek instead. Your heart was thumping.

Oh god was he going to kiss you? Fuck. You didn’t think you were ready for that.

“And if you want to go to dinner with me then you should. Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you or me.” His eyes flickered to your lips- but only for a moment. You felt him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before retreating to his seat. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

“I want to get dinner with you.” You said quietly. “But I’m still healing Bradley.” You said with shame dripping from your words. “Knowing that he’s out there looking for me scares the shit out of me.”

Bradley nodded his head in understanding.

“I won’t push you into anything you don’t want to do. Ever.” He said calmly. “I’ll go your pace. And if you decide that I’m an annoying nuisance then just tell me to get lost.”

You giggled at that and smiled at him.

“You’re really something Bradshaw.”

God he was handsome. His soft lips looked more kissable than ever. But you reframed from reaching for them.

“Take my number.” you said while pulling your phone out of your pocket. You swore you saw him sneak a glance at your chest while you did. It made you smirk.

He took your phone and typed in his number while you TRIED not to stare at how freakishly large his hands were. Not to mention how long his fingers were.

“I’ll text you when I get inside.” You said, tucking your phone away. “Since I know you were going to ask me to anyway.”

Bradley grinned.

“See! You do know me.” He said proudly.

You laughed and opened the car door. You stepped out and looked back at him.

“Thank you- for everything. For listening.” You said softly.

“Anytime.” He said just as soft as you had. “I’ll wait until I see you get inside to leave.” You nodded and went to shut the door but his voice stopped you.

“AND I’ll text you about those dinner plans tomorrow.”

You blushed and nodded before shutting the car door. You walked up to the house door and unlocked it – looking back to wave at Bradley before walking in and closing the door.

As soon as it shut you rubbed your hands over your face.

Holy shit. What have you gotten yourself into with Bradley Bradshaw?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * *

Part two coming soon if enough people are intersted <3 Comment below if you’d like to be part of tag list.

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nerdpoe · 10 months

Text

Three Vigilantes and a Pile of Parenting Books Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Ao3

Tim had a first row seat to watch Dick’s mental crisis.

He could hardly blame the man; not only did he have a kid, but one of his brothers had shot said kid.

Now the kid was sleeping on a cot in the medbay, drugged up to his eyeballs, and it looked like Dick couldn’t bring himself to let go of the kid’s hand.

Jason was still ah…talking to Alfred. Tim wasn’t going to interfere with that at all.

Barbara’s kid was on Dick’s kid’s other side, and absolutely refused to move.

The other two kids had fallen asleep from all the stress, and Jason had had just enough time to set them up on the cot opposite their friend’s before he’d been whisked away by Alfred.

Tim made his way over to Bruce, who was pouring over his own DNA tests.

“Is this a bad time to congratulate you on being a grandfather?”

“Yes.”

Tim casually not-casually leaned over Bruce’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“Can I ask why-holy shit. Really? And we’re sure it didn’t like, misread anything?” Tim asked quietly, glancing back at Dick.

Dick only had eyes for his kid, though, and apparently was too lost in his own head to pay attention.

“Positive, I’ve run it thirty-two times,” Bruce muttered, covering his mouth with one hand while the other ordered the computer to run the kid’s DNA again.

“...B, I don’t think it’s gonna change,” Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair, “What about the girl? What’s her’s sa-oh. Uh. I don’t know if that’s worse or better than Dick’s co-parent.”

Bruce took off his cowl and scrubbed at his face with his hands.

“I suppose I will have to let them know.”

“And the other two?”

Bruce tapped at something and brought up their files, motioning listlessly at the screen.

There were absolutely no DNA matches anywhere, at all. Most likely they were either bought from a Human Trafficker or sold off by their parents, then. Definitely human, though; no hero DNA in them anywhere.

Which was honestly a bit of a surprise; given the girl’s viciousness Tim had been assuming she was Jason’s kid.

Bruce let out a muffled sigh and started drafting letters to send out to Barbara and Dick’s co-parents.

~~~~~~

John Constantine pulled himself from sleep, lulled by the incessant ringing of his alarm.

It was his noon alarm, so he knew he’d already slept well into the afternoon.

Refusing to leave the comfort of his blankets, he tugged the phone over and checked his notifications.

And fuck him, there was one from the Batman himself, marked as urgent.

John put the phone down, intent on ignoring it.

The phone pinged.

It was a text.

Broody McFuckFace Constantine, I know you’re up. Read the email.

John whined and opened the email.

And sat up.

Dropped his phone.

Scrambled on all fours to the liquor cabinet.

Turned back to get the phone to reread the email and tripped over his own feet.

And once he’d confirmed that he hadn’t misread or hallucinated any of the contents, he ordered the House of Mysteries to the most remote location it could possibly go.

He wasn’t getting another kid killed just for being related to him, he refused. He’d be the bad guy, he’d be the deadbeat dad, but he refused to be the reason his son….

Bloody buggering…his son. His son. He had a son.

He could never, ever see the kid.

Fuck.

Constantine took a swig of whatever he’d picked up and curled between his bed and his wall.

~~~~~~

Constantine. A child was found in an experimental facility that could not nail down Cloning, and instead resorted to just making children from heroes. They were utilizing the technology to age them quicker. Your DNA was used alongside Nightwing’s to create a boy. You have a son, he appears to be around six years old. Please respond with how you intend to proceed, as Nightwing has already accepted full parental responsibilities in your absence. Batman.

~~~~~~

Baatman I wnt nothin to do wit th kid fuck off Constannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

~~~~~~

Diana was rather enjoying her quiet afternoon, sitting at a cafe in France and sipping on coffee while reading the news on her phone.

It was nice to catch a break between hero-ing and being a Princess, and it happened so rarely, too.

Then a notification popped up on her phone.

Oh, it was from Bruce!

Diana opened it eagerly, reading the contents as quickly as she could.

Diana read them again.

Diana dropped her coffee.

Diana stood up in awe as the French Patrons around her looked dismayed at the waste of coffee.

“I…” Diana whispered, and the patrons winced, anticipating bad news from the woman acting so strangely, “I have a daughter!”

The patrons who could speak English gasped in polite surprise and started applauding.

Diana paid them no mind and slapped money on the table before darting out of the cafe; she was going to Gotham whether Bruce invited her or not.

She had a daughter!

She!

A daughter!

She would work out custody with Oracle, but first!

She had a daughter to see!

~~~~~~

Wonder Woman. A child was found in an experimental facility that could not nail down Cloning, and instead resorted to just making children from heroes. They were utilizing the technology to age them quicker. Your DNA was used alongside Oracle’s to create a girl. You have a daughter, she appears to be around ten years old. Please respond with how you intend to proceed, as Oracle has already accepted full parental responsibilities in your absence. Batman.

~~~~~~

Batman. I am six hours out, and am utilizing the jet for maximum speed. I trust you will be ready for my arrival. I look forward to co-parenting with Oracle! Wonder Woman

~~~~~

Dick watched the rise and fall of his son’s tiny chest, and held his tiny hand, and reached out to brush his fluffy hair out of his tiny, scrunched up face. He’d almost forgotten how small kids could be.

Well, he’d always known, but it was different seeing some random kid on the street and then holding his own kid’s hand.

He was so small!

Dick could not, would not, let anything happen to him.

He knew Bruce was doing something in the background, that he was trying to find who his co-parent was, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to it.

“His name is Danny,” Barbara’s kid said suddenly, glaring at him.

Dick really, really hoped that the scientists hadn’t been the ones to name him. But if that was what he responded to, if he had no problems with it, then that was his name until he said otherwise.

Dick just smiled at her instead of saying any of that, however.

“Okay. And what’s yours?”

“Jazz. Why d’you keep touching him?”

The little girl-Jazz-looked like she was three seconds away from trying to break Dick’s hands herself.

“Because…I’m just happy he’s alive, I guess,” Dick hummed, smoothing back the unruly hair again.

“Why? You don’ know him, an’ he doesn’ know you, he woulda tol’ me if he did.”

Dick felt his smile fade a bit.

“I know. But when he wakes up, I’m hoping he’ll like me enough to stick around and learn who I am.”

Jazz opened her mouth, presumably to argue that he still hadn’t explained why he cared about a kid he didn’t know, when Tim let out one of the most vicious swear-streaks he’d ever heard his little brother go off on.

Dick turned slightly to look at what was going on, and was surprised to see Bruce’s body language transcend rage as the man stalked off to the gym.

Tim had taken over the computer and was practically stabbing at the keyboard with his fingers.

“Fuck him, then! Who needs him! We’ll be fine without him! I can babysit, B can babysit, I bet Diana would be fucking thrilled to have the chance to watch him! I bet he’s a goddamn treasure to be around! Unlike you, you rancid useless piece of shit-!” Tim cut himself off and slammed his butt into the chair, working furiously on the computer.

Dick flinched and turned back to Danny.

Apparently, the co-parent wanted nothing to do with the situation as a whole.

He could understand, he could.

They hadn’t asked for a kid, and suddenly there was one with no prior warning whatsoever.

And yeah, Dick got that. He knew that the response wasn’t out of the ordinary, and that he should probably call off Tim.

However, he kinda felt…offended.

Whoever his co-parent was, they hadn’t even seen Danny. They were just throwing away the opportunity without even looking at him.

So Dick held his tongue and let Tim loose.

~~~~~~

Barbara wheeled in, and paused to take in the situation.

Tim was doing something with the computer, and from his expression someone was about to have a very bad life.

Bruce was punching things to deal with his emotions.

Jason was standing in front of Alfred, head bowed and what looked like tears in his eyes as the older man spoke to him in hushed tones.

Damian left her side and wandered to Tim, presumably to find out what he was doing.

Barbara made her way to her own kid.

And stopped once she was in full view of the tyke.

That…was definitely her kid. The hair, the nose…although, the eyes were a little too blue to come from her.

But that was a little, tiny kid.

That was her daughter, old enough to have meant that as far as the papers Barbara was going to doctor were going to be concerned, she had been a teen mom.

Barbara really, really hoped that her co-parent would be willing to step in.

The little girl was watching her, wary.

Good.

Suspicion would keep her alive in a city like Gotham.

Barbara finished the journey to Dick’s side and held out her hand to her daughter.

“My name is Barbara, and according to DNA, I’m your mom,” she heard Dick start to protest her rather blunt approach, but her daughter nodded and took the hand offered.

“I’m Jazz, that’s Danny,” she said quietly, blinking rapidly.

Barbara nodded, leaning back in her chair. Jazz rubbed furiously at her eyes and blinked away what looked like tears, chubby cheeks turning red with frustration, and her expression just got more furious with each tear that managed to get past her hands.

Oh yeah. She knew what that meant.

Jazz needed a nap.

“Alright Jazz,” Barbara started, wheeling closer to her, “I need someone with good ears. You got those?”

Jazz glared at her and nodded suspiciously.

“Good. You’re gonna have to sit in my lap for it, but I think one of the servos in my chair is starting to grind against its surroundings, so there’s really not another spot for you to listen for that.”

Jazz cautiously stood from her chair and made her way over.

Good, even if the kid didn’t trust her, kids always wanted to feel like they were helping. Well, Barbara had when she’d been that age.

Once Jazz was in her lap and had settled down to focus on listening to the mechanics of Barbara’s chair, it took a grand total of two minutes for the kid to knock out.

Dick was staring at her in awe.

“Moving on,” Barbara said quietly, running a hand up and down Jazz’s back, “What’s the news regarding our co-parents?”

Dick shrugged.

“Mine apparently sent a reply that pissed everyone off too much to tell me who it even is, which meant that they may not have read the response from yours.”

Barbara frowned and pulled out her phone to see for herself.

She paused long enough to feel slightly amazed at Constantine’s vitriolic response, before shoving it aside and just reporting her findings.

“So my co-parent is Diana, who is on her way to meet Jazz. Looks like we’ll have to come to a parenting agreement, since she wants in. Your co-parent is Constantine, and he uh…he has waived any parental rights.”

Dick looked surprised at the mention of Constantine and looked back at his kid.

“Oh yeah, I can kinda see it…”

Barbara pocketed her phone and reached over to place a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

“We’re here to help you, Dick. Just remember that.”

~~~~~~

Across the world, multiple law enforcement agencies were suddenly alerted to the existence of John Constantine as a wanted international man for fraud across country borders.

Alongside the evidence backing that, there was a generous gift of a facial recognition program with a sophistication the likes of which they hadn’t seen before.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #three vigilantes and a pile of parenting books #phanfic

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