#Personal Injury Lawyer Near You | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiwriteswords · 9 days ago

Text

Unveiled

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This has been on my to-write list forever...hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4k

Tags/Warnings: Mild Injury, Mentions of Field Work, Secretive Behavior, Slight Jealousy, Light Swearing, Mentions of Emotional Vulnerability, Secret Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Marriage, Canon-Typical Themes.

Sypnosis: You and Aaron Hotchner have always been experts at keeping work and personal life separate—so much so that the team doesn’t even know you’re together, let alone married. But secrets can only stay hidden for so long, especially when small details start catching everyone’s attention.

The BAU bullpen buzzes with the usual hum of activity. Cases to close, profiles to refine, and endless paperwork to finish. You settle into your desk with a practiced air of nonchalance, tugging the sleeve of your blazer slightly to cover the delicate wedding band now gracing your finger.

The slim band--simple, not flashy, was perfect for both your personality and the line of work you were in. You could count the times on one hand how often JJ had to get her ring fixed or cleaned from the damage being in the field caused. You did not need diamonds or an extravagant engagement or wedding. You had everything and more with the man who had the matching band upstairs.

You glance across the bullpen, up to Aaron’s office. He’s buried in a stack of reports, his expression unreadable, as always. His left hand is occupied with a red pen, and the thin gold band is barely visible but there nonetheless.

Your lips twitch into a subtle smile as you recall the whirlwind of the weekend: the drive to a secluded courthouse, the soft vows spoken just for each other, the quiet, private moment that bound you and Aaron together in a way only you two could understand--with Jack present, of course. Eloping had been a mutual decision, spurred on by years of hiding, countless near-misses at being caught, and the realization that you were done living for anyone but each other.

Ever the lawyer Aaron was and ever the practical woman you were, you knew marriage was essentially just paperwork. Personally, it did mean a lot more to the both of you in terms of commitment, so that’s why you both decided to do it on a whim, to begin with, but there wasn’t a need for the white dress or all the bells and whistles that you both found overkill. The slim gold bands were enough. The vows were enough. The love you shared was more than enough.

Now, the fun part began.

You turn back to your desk, shuffling through files with purpose as the team begins trickling in. The usual morning energy hums around you, but it’s impossible to ignore the slight thrill of knowing what you’re both hiding—and knowing it won’t be hidden for much longer.

“Hey, Y/N!” Penelope’s voice cuts through the air, cheerful as ever. “Doesn’t this day feel extra special for some reason? Like the world’s just radiating good vibes?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe it’s just you, Penelope. You’re the good vibes.”

She beams, clearly pleased with the answer, before skipping off to annoy Morgan. You catch Aaron’s eye for the briefest second, and the corner of his mouth twitches—a rare, subtle sign of amusement.

The team trickles in gradually. Rossi strolls past your desk, sharp as ever, with his coffee in hand. His sharp eyes flicker to your hand, and he slows just slightly, one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Nice ring, kid,” he says, voice casual but curious. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone serious enough settle down.”

Your breath hitches for a fraction of a second, but you quickly recover, offering him an easy shrug. “I like to keep my private life... private.”

Rossi had been the hardest over the years to keep at bay. Somehow, it became second nature to be so…secluded in your personal life. It wasn’t that you or Aaron were not sharing with the team, but you never felt the reason to shake things up. You, with your budding career, and him, with his reputation as a leader, why change that?

Rossi hums thoughtfully, clearly filing that information away for later. You glance over at Aaron again, his focus still trained on the file in front of him. His poker face is maddeningly perfect, but you know he’s listening intently.

It isn’t too long after that a new case brings you to the round table room. You can’t help but feel that there is still an unspoken buzz in the air. Rossi’s comment made you jumpier than you’d like. Not that you’re hiding anything, but the idea of change…makes you uneasy.

Aaron sits to your right, perfectly composed as always, flipping through the latest case files. His left hand holds a pen, the thin gold band on his ring finger catching the light with every movement. You glance at it, a quiet rush of warmth filling your chest. Your husband. It’s still a surreal thought. You could feel the faintest hint of amusement radiating from him, even if his face betrayed nothing. The quiet thrill of your secret filled the air between you.

You refocus, nodding at something JJ says about an update from the field office, but you can feel Rossi’s eyes on you. He’s seated across the table, his sharp gaze catching every detail. A slow, knowing smile creeps across his face, but he says nothing—yet.

“Anyway,” JJ continues, looking up from her notes, “we’ll need to coordinate with local law enforcement to finalize those interviews.” She glances over, and her eyes snag on your hand mid-gesture. Her words falter for a split second before she quickly recovers. “Morgan, you’ll take the lead.”

Morgan nods, clearly only half-listening. His focus has also shifted—to Aaron, more specifically. His brow furrows as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Hotch, you got something new going on?” His tone is casual, but his grin betrays his curiosity. “That’s one hell of an accessory you’re sporting.”

Aaron doesn’t miss a beat, his voice calm and measured. “I wasn’t aware my ring warranted commentary, Morgan.”

Morgan smirks, glancing at Rossi. “Oh, come on, man. You walk in here wearing a wedding band out of nowhere? You can’t expect us not to say something.”

Rossi leans forward slightly, his fingers steepled under his chin. “And here I thought I was the only one paying attention,” he says, his voice rich with amusement. “Seems our unit chief had quite the weekend.”

The rest of the team snaps to attention. JJ’s head jerks toward Aaron, her eyes widening as she looks between him and you. Penelope, sitting at the far end of the table, gasps audibly.

“Wait,” Penelope exclaims, her voice rising in pitch. “You’re married now? When did this happen? Who’s the lucky lady? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I’m not the only one,” Rossi interjects smoothly, his gaze now fixed on you. “Looks like Y/N had a busy weekend, too.” He nods toward your left hand.

You glance at Aaron, a silent exchange passing between you. His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles—so brief it’s almost imperceptible. But you catch it.

Penelope’s sharp intake of breath breaks your focus. “Wait a second,” she says, leaning forward, her gaze darting between you and Aaron. “Y/N, is that... a wedding ring?”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady as you respond. “What about it?”

Morgan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and smirking. “Hold up,” he says, nodding toward Aaron’s hand again.

All eyes turn toward Aaron now. He calmly finishes jotting a note before closing the folder in front of him. “Is this relevant to the case?” he asks, his tone perfectly neutral.

Rossi tilts his head, his sharp gaze bouncing between you and Aaron. His lips curl into a knowing smile. “Interesting,” he says slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Very interesting.”

JJ’s brow furrows as she glances between the two of you. Her eyes widen slightly as realization begins to dawn. “No,” she says softly, more to herself than anyone else. Then louder, “Wait a second—are you two—?”

You glance at Aaron, and he gives you the slightest nod. With a small sigh, you lean back in your chair and let the corner of your mouth lift into a smirk. “You really don’t know?” you ask, your voice laced with amusement.

Aaron follows up, his tone carrying a faint edge of dry humor. “I thought you were better profilers than that.”

The room goes completely silent as the pieces click into place. Emily gasps, pointing between you and Aaron. “No. No way. You two? Are you telling me you’re married to each other?”

Morgan bursts out laughing, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “You’re telling me you’ve been dating this whole time, and none of us knew? I don’t believe it. You two are way too good at this.”

Penelope’s jaw drops. “What?! Oh my God, I feel so betrayed! How could you keep this from me? I should’ve been your bridesmaid—or at least in the loop!”

Aaron raises a hand, his calm authority cutting through the chaos in the room. “We made the decision to keep our relationship private to maintain professionalism,” he begins, his tone firm but warm. His eyes sweep the room, landing briefly on each team member before continuing. “This team works best when there are no distractions, and we both agreed that our relationship couldn’t interfere with that.”

He pauses, glancing at you. There’s a moment of silent understanding between you before you speak up, your voice steady but lighter than his. “It wasn’t about hiding, exactly. It was about making sure we stayed focused on the work that matters. But,” you add with a small, wry smile, “we eventually realized we didn’t need to keep it a secret anymore.”

Aaron picks up where you leave off, his tone softening slightly. “Especially now that we’re married,” he says, letting the weight of the words settle over the room. “We didn’t make this decision lightly, and we both value the integrity of this team above all else. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t.”

The room falls quiet again, the team absorbing the revelation. You can see the wheels turning in their minds as they piece together the years of subtle interactions, quiet glances, and the seamless way you and Aaron have worked together all this time.

JJ breaks the silence first, her expression shifting from shock to a warm smile. “Well,” she says softly, “congratulations. You both deserve to be happy.”

Morgan leans forward, his grin widening. “Alright, I’ll give you two credit—this is the best-kept secret I’ve seen in a long time. But man, Hotch, you’ve got some explaining to do. Married? Without us knowing? I’m hurt.”

Rossi chuckles, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen it sooner,” he says, his tone amused but approving. “Still, I can’t say I’m surprised. You two make sense.”

Reid almost looks relieved, “I thought I was the only one who didn’t pick up on things like this.”

Penelope is the last to recover, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Oh my gosh! This is so romantic!” She gestures wildly between you and Aaron. “Secret agents in love, sneaking off to get married��it’s like a spy movie! Please tell me there are pictures. I need pictures. And cake! Why isn’t there cake?”

You laugh, finally letting yourself relax a little as you glance at Aaron. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible smile—one the others might miss, but you recognize instantly. Beneath the table, his pinky brushes against yours, a subtle reminder that you’re in this together.

“Alright,” Aaron says, his commanding tone bringing the room back into focus. “We still have work to do, and I expect everyone to stay focused on the case.”

Morgan leans back in his chair, still grinning. “Yeah, yeah, boss. But this conversation isn’t over.”

Rossi smirks. “Don’t worry, Derek. Something tells me there’s more to this story, and we’ll get the details eventually.”

You exchange a knowing glance with Aaron as the team begins to settle down, still buzzing with excitement. It’s out in the open now—no more hiding, no more secrets. Just you, Aaron, and the life you’ve quietly built together finally shared with the people who matter most.

The case wraps up after a grueling few days. The unsub is in custody, and while the tension of the investigation still lingers, the mood on the jet back home is noticeably lighter. The team is scattered around the cabin—Morgan and Rossi are in their usual seats, discussing the finer points of profiling techniques, while Spencer is engrossed in a book.

You find yourself seated with JJ and Emily at the small table near the galley. Emily is flipping through a magazine, and JJ is scrolling on her phone, but their attention shifts to you when you pull out your phone and casually unlock it.

“You know,” you say, leaning back in your chair with a small grin, “since you all feel so left out, I figured I’d show you some photos from the elopement.”

Emily’s eyes snap up from her magazine, and JJ’s face lights up with interest. “Finally!” Emily exclaims, leaning in. “I thought you were going to make us beg.”

JJ nudges your arm. “I’ve been dying to see these. Penelope’s already planning a post-wedding celebration for you two.”

You chuckle and swipe to the photo album. The first image you show is a candid one—a shot of you and Aaron outside the courthouse, his hand resting gently on your back, both of you mid-laugh. JJ lets out a soft “Aww,” and Emily whistles low under her breath.

“Look at you two,” Emily says, her tone teasing but fond. “Who knew Hotch could look so... human?”

You laugh, swiping to the next picture, a close-up of your intertwined hands with your wedding bands gleaming in the sunlight. “He’s full of surprises,” you quip.

As you share a few more photos, some with Jack, some Jack actually took of you and Aaron.

Aaron walks by, a cup of coffee in hand. He pauses when he notices the three of you huddled around your phone. “Are you showing them the photos?” he asks, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

“Of course,” you reply, looking up at him with a playful grin. “They demanded proof.”

Aaron hums thoughtfully, his gaze softening as he leans slightly over the table. “You should show them the photo from last year. The one from the Amalfi Coast.” There’s an amused glint in Aaron’s eye’s that makes you want to roll your own, but you satisfy everyone anyway.

JJ blinks, looking between the two of you. “Wait. The Amalfi Coast? Together?”

Emily narrows her eyes, clearly piecing something together. “Hold on. Didn’t you both take time off around the same time last summer?”

Before you can answer, Reid speaks up from his seat across the cabin, his voice laced with disbelief. “You mean the trip to Italy? I remember you both mentioned visiting Italy, but I never connected the dots that you were there together.”

Morgan, catching the tail end of the conversation, leans over the back of his seat. “Hold up—that’s what you were doing last year? You two were off in Italy, sipping wine and living the good life, and we had no idea?”

Rossi chuckles from across the cabin, shaking his head. “It’s impressive, really. I mean, a courthouse wedding is one thing, but hiding a vacation together? That’s next-level stealth.”

Emily laughs, gesturing toward your phone. “Alright, show us this Amalfi Coast picture. I need to see the evidence.”

With a shake of your head, you scroll back to the album from the trip. You find the photo Aaron mentioned—a picture of the two of you standing on a sunlit terrace overlooking the ocean, the breeze catching your hair while Aaron stands beside you, looking uncharacteristically relaxed in a linen shirt. You hand the phone over, and JJ and Emily lean in closer.

“This is so unfair,” JJ says, shaking her head with a smile. “You two look like you walked out of a travel magazine.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe we didn’t put this together sooner,” Emily adds, smirking. “I mean, Hotch in a linen shirt? That should’ve been the giveaway.”

Aaron shakes his head with a faint chuckle, taking a sip of his coffee. “I told you we were better at keeping secrets than they gave us credit for.”

You grin, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Well, now you all know. Mystery solved.”

Reid looks up from his book, still shaking his head. “I feel like I should’ve noticed. The behavioral cues were there...”

Morgan snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. They had us all fooled.”

JJ hands your phone back, smiling warmly. “Well, for the record, I’m glad we know now. You two really are perfect together.”

Aaron catches your eye from where he’s standing, his expression soft but steady. It’s a look that speaks volumes, and you know you’ll both carry this moment—this quiet joy of finally being yourselves with your team—for a long time.

As the jet hums softly beneath you, you settle into the warmth of the conversation, knowing that the life you’ve built with Aaron is now shared with the people who matter most.

When the jet touches down, and the team unloads into the bullpen, you barely have time to gather your things before Penelope corners you and Aaron. She’s been dropping comments all case long—about needing details, demanding photos, and lamenting her exclusion from what she’s now referring to as The Most Romantic Secret Ever Kept—but this time, there’s no escape.

“Alright, you two!” Penelope exclaims, her hands on her hips as she plants herself in front of you both. Her eyes sparkle with determination. “I’ve been patient. I’ve waited through an entire case, and now you owe me. Spill it. All of it. When, where, how? I need the full story.”

Aaron glances at you, his lips twitching in faint amusement. “I told you this would happen,” he murmurs under his breath.

You chuckle softly and look at Penelope. “Fine,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “We’ll tell you—briefly.”

Penelope’s expression brightens instantly. “Finally!” she squeals, clapping her hands together. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

Aaron crosses his arms, his authoritative posture intact but his tone softer than usual. “It started a few years ago,” he begins, glancing at you. “Not long after you joined the team.”

You nod, picking up the thread. “It wasn’t planned. We just... clicked. We kept things professional at first, but over time, it became harder to ignore. Eventually, we decided it was worth exploring, but we agreed to keep it private.”

Penelope’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Years? You mean to tell me you’ve been dating for years, and I had no idea?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly. “We were careful,” he says simply. “We didn’t want our relationship to interfere with the team dynamic or the work we do.”

“And we didn’t think anyone would benefit from knowing,” you add. “It was easier to keep it between us.”

“But how?” Penelope presses, leaning closer. “I mean, we’re profilers! How did you manage to keep it under wraps?”

You exchange a knowing look with Aaron before answering. “We’ve always been good at separating our personal and professional lives,” you say. “At work, we focused on the cases. Outside of work... we had each other.”

Aaron nods. “We were deliberate about our interactions here, and we made sure not to let anything slip.”

Penelope looks genuinely impressed, though she’s clearly not done grilling you. “So, no one ever suspected? Not even Rossi?”

You laugh. “Oh, Rossi definitely had his suspicions,” you admit. “But he never said anything outright.”

Aaron smirks faintly. “I think he enjoyed watching the rest of you try to figure it out.”

Penelope groans dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “I can’t believe this. You two are like... spy-level secretive. I don’t know whether to be mad at you or impressed.”

“Be impressed,” you say with a grin. “It’s less stressful.”

Penelope narrows her eyes at both of you, then sighs. “Fine. But only because you’re ridiculously adorable together. And because I’m still planning a post-wedding party. You’re not getting out of that.”

Aaron shakes his head with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, Penelope finally relents, though she shoots you both one last look that clearly says she’s not done asking questions. As she flounces off to her office, you exhale a soft laugh, turning to Aaron.

“Well,” you say lightly, “that went better than I expected.”

Aaron’s gaze softens, and he leans in slightly, his voice low. “She’ll be back.”

You laugh, shaking your head as the two of you head toward your offices. It’s out in the open now—your story, your love, your life together. And though you’ve enjoyed the secrecy, there’s something freeing about finally being able to share it with your team.

After a long day and an even longer week, the bullpen finally clears out. The soft hum of computers and the faint buzz of the overhead lights are the only sounds left as you and Aaron prepare to leave. You gather your things, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he approaches with his jacket draped over his arm.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

You nod, falling into step beside him as the two of you head toward the elevator. There’s an unspoken ease between you; the weight of secrecy finally lifted. When the elevator doors close, Aaron glances at you, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

“You know,” he says, his tone laced with quiet humor, “we don’t have to stagger our exits anymore.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No more waiting ten minutes so no one sees us leaving together?”

“Or arriving,” he adds. “No more separate cars or pretending to run into each other in the parking lot. We’ve been doing that for years. I think it’s become muscle memory.”

The thought makes you smile as the elevator dings, and you step out into the cool night air. You walk together to the car, and the rhythmic click of your shoes is the only sound. When you slide into the passenger seat, and Aaron starts the engine, the hum of the car fills the silence.

As he pulls onto the road, you glance over at him, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across his face. “Do you ever think about all the close calls?” you ask, your voice quiet but teasing.

Aaron’s lips twitch in amusement. “All the time. Like that day you got hurt in the field.”

You know exactly which day he means. It’s burned into your memory as much as his. “You mean when I dislocated my shoulder chasing that suspect?”

He nods, his tone softening. “I remember standing over you, trying to keep it together while the EMTs worked. I wanted to pick you up and carry you to the ambulance myself, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stay professional and keep my voice steady.”

You smile faintly, your heart tightening at the memory. “I remember how calm you sounded, even though I could see it in your eyes. You hated every second of it.”

Aaron glances at you briefly, his eyes filled with something deeper. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Morgan even asked me later why I seemed so shaken. I had to play it off as just another day in the field.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, you were convincing enough. I think I was more worried about you slipping than about my shoulder.”

He lets out a low chuckle, his focus on the road. “That wasn’t the only close call. Remember Kansas City? The hotel?”

“Oh God,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. “I thought for sure Morgan would figure it out. He knocked on my door right after you left.”

Aaron smirks, glancing at you briefly. “What did you tell him?”

“I said I was up late working on the profile,” you reply, grinning. “Which wasn’t a lie, technically. I just left out the part where you were with me.”

Aaron shakes his head, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “How about all the times we shared a room and no one noticed?”

You laugh, sinking back into your seat. “That was a miracle. Every single time. Can you imagine if anyone went looking for you in your empty room?”

“Or walked past at the wrong moment,” Aaron adds, his voice tinged with humor. “I can’t believe we managed to pull that off.”

You grin at him, your tone teasing. “We probably wasted so much of the Bureau’s money on extra rooms we didn’t need.”

His lips twitch into a smirk. “I think we’ve earned it, considering the hours we’ve put in.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Still, we were playing with fire. Like that time Rossi knocked on your door in Denver. I thought for sure he’d notice something.”

Aaron chuckles, his tone more amused now. “Rossi always noticed. He just didn’t say anything.”

“Probably because he enjoyed watching everyone else flounder,” you reply with a grin. “He was always a little too smug.”

The car falls into a comfortable silence as the memories wash over you both—the near-misses, the stolen moments, the countless times you had to act like nothing more than colleagues. Now, with the secrecy behind you, the memories feel more like a badge of honor than a burden.

Aaron pulls into the driveway, turning off the engine before glancing at you. His expression is soft, his voice quieter now. “No more sneaking around,” he says. “No more separate cars or extra rooms.”

You smile, reaching for his hand. “Just us.”

The two of you walk inside, your home warm and inviting as you settle in for the night. The conversation drifts back to the little things you had to do to keep your relationship under wraps—the cover stories, the excuses, the times you almost slipped. But the laughter and warmth you share now make it all worth it.

As the night deepens, you both revel in the freedom of no longer having to hide. It’s just you and Aaron, building the life you’ve always wanted… with Jack—together, out in the open, and exactly as it should be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x you #hotch x reader #kiwriteswords #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

566 notes · View notes

straylightdream · 1 year ago

Text

run to you - my sweet savior

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x chubby/plus size f.reader

friends to lovers / non idol au

↳ after running away from an abusive ex there is only one person you know you’ll truly feel safe with.

{ “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,”

“Chan nobody was able to protect me.”}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit sexual content (smut warnings below the cut), and mentions/talks of abuse happening (by the mc’s ex) before the story, and mentions of injuries from abuse. This is gonna be a heavier story.

𝐚𝐧: I started to really second guess this story when I was editing if I’m being honest.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected piv, oral (male rec), fingering (fem rec), this is pretty vanilla they’re in love, names such as: baby, and baby girl

You had known each other since your freshman year of college when your dorms were on the same floor. You became friends right away when Chan accidentally ran into you while he was walking to the library. He’ll never admit it to anyone but he did it on purpose. He had seen you talking to your friend and wanted a reason to talk to you. He figured it would be the best way to start up a conversation. From the moment you met you had become instantly friends. No matter what happened in your life you were always able to run to Chan. He would always be there to save you.

It was the middle of the night, and instead of being at home in bed you ran away to the only person you felt safe with. Standing at his door you rapidly knocked on the door trying to get him to come to open it quickly. Pushing the tears off your flushed cheeks that had a large bruise already forming you inhaled deeply trying to stop crying. If he didn’t answer in the next minute you were just going to walk to Changbin’s apartment. You were praying Chan was going to answer the door. You needed him desperately at the moment.

“Who is it?” he asked on the other side of the door.

“It’s (Y/N),” you said through tears as they continued to fall.

Opening the door, he stared at you for a moment. His apartment was dark behind him. You were caught off guard by the fact he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants that sat really low on hips. You could tell that he was asleep before you had woken him up with you pounding on his door. Sniffling, you stood there staring at him. You didn’t even know what you expected from him, but when you left your apartment you knew you needed to go to Chan.

“Why are you crying,” he said with his voice sounding raspy.

“Chan, can I come in?” You asked awkwardly standing in the hallway.

He nodded his head and stepped to the side signaling for you to come in.

You suddenly froze in place and you can’t even fully explain why. He noticed your hesitation and took your hand gently.

Holding his hand, he led you over to the couch that sat in the middle of his dark apartment. He didn’t even bother turning on any lights. The only light on was the one in the bathroom that was giving a dull glow near his bed. You were trying to calm down because you didn’t want to cry anymore. You kept taking deep breaths attempting to stop crying. The weight of the night felt like it was crushing you.

“What time is it?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“It’s two in the morning,” you sighed knowing you shouldn’t have come to his apartment.

“Is there a reason you came to my apartment at two in the morning crying?” he looked over at you. You were happy the room was so dark so it must have been hard to see the bruises. You paused for a moment because you knew he was probably going to lose his cool when you told him why. “Promise you’ll stay calm,” you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh.

“Why do I know I’m not gonna like what you’re gonna say?”

“I need a restraining order against Jimmy,” you sighed, explaining why you needed a restraining order and was going to have to cause you to re-live the pain. You knew with Chan and Changbin being lawyers they would be able to make the process of you getting one easier.

Jimmy was your boyfriend of three years that you lived with. You thought he was the one you were going to marry until about two weeks ago when things changed between you. He used to be gentle and caring until more recently when things started to change.

Tilting his head to the side he asked, “why do you need a restraining order?”

You swallowed trying to gather the courage to tell him, “he hit me a couple of weeks ago after drinking. I told myself it was a one-time thing that he would never do it again, and then…” Tears quickly brimmed your eyes before you started crying again, reliving that hell of a night.

Chan’s nostrils flared as he tried to stay calm at what you were telling him, “then what?” he asked. He was trying to force himself to stay calm so that he couldn’t just go kill the man who hurt his best friend.

“He came home from drinking with his friends and he tried to kiss me and when I told him he was drunk he slapped me. I tried to fight him off and then he slammed me into a mirror,” tears fell as you looked down at her bare thighs that were covered in cuts. You could already see your legs turning shades or purple and green as the bruises were starting to form.

“What the fuck?” Chan stood up quickly filled with rage. You knew that Chan would have no issue killing Jimmy after what he did to you.

“Chan please stay calm,” you grabbed his hand desperately pleading for him to calm down. You didn’t need him to be mad right now; you just needed him to hold you and let you know you weren’t alone.

“He laid his fucking hands on you,” he gazed off into your direction. He didn’t know what to do at that moment. He wanted to personally go kill the man that touched his best friend.

“Chan, I left him and came here. I don’t need you to hurt him and I sure as hell don’t need you to be freaking out right now. I’m begging you to not do anything,” you sobbed clenching his hand.

He could hear the pain in your voice. Sitting back down on the couch you released his hand and he gently reached up and rested his hand on your bruised cheek.

Not being able to actually see you In the very dark room he asked, “how bad are you hurt?”

“My right cheek is really bruised, and on my left side my body got pretty cut up from the mirror,” you sighed as tears fell.

Gently he reached and wiped away your tears that were staining your cheeks.

“You need to file a police report tomorrow and then we’ll get you that restraining order,” he sighed attempting to calm down.

“Also you’re moving in with me for a while. I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed.”

“I can’t have you sleeping on the couch Chan,” you sighed.“I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.”

Silence took over the room for a long moment as you stared at him. He cleared his throat and said, “why didn’t you tell me a couple weeks ago he hit you?”

“Because I was embarrassed it happened and told myself it was a one time thing.”

Closing his eyes he shook his head upset he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt. This should have never happened a first time let alone a second time.

“Let’s get some sleep,” you stood up. You wanted this hell of a night to be over.

—-

It has been a week since you left Jimmy and this afternoon Chan, Changbin and your friend Molly went over to your place you used to share with Jimmy and got all your stuff. While you were there both Changbin and Chan threatened him within an inch if he ever came near you again.

Laying on Chan’s couch in the middle of the living area of his studio you looked over at Chan who was in bed. You tried your best to fight back tears. You were finally free from Jimmy but that meant you were going to have to restart your life. You had been living with him for the last two years. So that meant you were going to have to find your own place, and your own furniture. You hadn’t ever lived on your own. When you went to college you lived with Molly and then after graduating you moved in together. You lived with her until you foolishly decided to move in with your ex. The sound of you sniffling back your tears had Chan's attention. Sitting up in bed he asked, “why are you crying?”

Pushing the tears off your cheeks you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed you kept crying in front of him. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

“Please come over here and sleep in this bed with me, I can’t have you going to bed crying on the couch,” he sighed getting out of bed.

Sitting up you looked over to where Chan was sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine here. I think tomorrow I need to start looking for a place to live. I’ve never lived on my own and honestly it kind of terrifies me.”

Standing up he slowly started making his way over to the couch where you were sitting. “You can live here as long as you want?”

Before you could say anything Chan was standing in front of you shirtless only wearing a pair of boxers that sat low on his hips. You couldn’t help but stare at his toned body, your mind was lost in thought thinking about how good he looked standing around in just boxers.

“Are you checking me out?” he joked.

“I wasn’t,” you lied again.

Over the last week there had seemed to be quite a bit of sexual tension between you two. Back when you were in college you had slept together after a drunken night, and you had swore you would never talk about it after you woke up the next morning. Since you had been living together for a week you couldn’t help but think about the time you and Chan had slept together. You had fond memories of your night you spent together.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, we're grown adults, we can share the bed,” he held his hand out for you to take.

“Chan are you sure?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

Nodding his head, he led you off to his bed. Slowly you both crawled into bed. Chan moved to one side and you laid on the far side of the bed. You both laid on your sides. Your eyes stayed locked on him as he stared back at you.

“Do you ever think about that night in college?” You knew they agreed to never talk about that night, but after living with him for a week you needed to know. You were curious if he thought about your night together.

He nodded his head, “I do.”

You sighed, “I do too.”

Reaching your hand out you rested it on top of Chan’s hands wondering why he was so good to you. You couldn’t help but wonder why he was your night and shining armor. He seemed to always be there for you, and never asked for anything in return.

“Why did nothing happen between us?” You had been wanting to ask him that question for years but could never gather the courage to actually ask him.

“Changbin was basically in love with you in college and I felt like I betrayed my friend,” he sighed. “Also we slept together right before you started dating that asshole William.”

Chan hated William; he was an asshole jock who cheated on you multiple times. He was one of your exes that did nothing but break your spirit.

“Changbin was in love with me?” You were caught off guard by this information. Back in college when you all met you were basically all best friends. You had a huge crush on Chan, but you didn’t realize Changbin had liked you.

“Yeah he was and if you ever tell him I said that I’ll call you a liar,” he said with a little laugh.

“Is he still in love with me?” You wondered what would have happened if you and Changbin had dated.

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t brought it up in years.”

“Well it’s good to know in college someone other than William wanted to get with a big girl,” you said thinking back to your college years when you struggled with your body image the most. You had zero confidence and went through stages of yo-yo dieting. It wasn’t until after you graduated you learned to love yourself and not care about what people think.

“First of all don’t talk about yourself like that,” he squeezed your hand. “Second of all there were other people who wanted you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comments and sarcastically said, “You know I totally had guys lining up to get with me.”

“You know we slept together right, and I was extremely attracted to you then and I sure as hell still am,” he rolled onto his back so he was looking at the ceiling.

Your eyes went wide, completely caught off guard by his words, “excuse me what?” You almost shouted.

“You can’t act like you didn’t know this,” he said coolly.

“Bang Chan you can’t play that comment off like it was nothing,” you sat up on the bed and stared at him still wide eyed.

“You were attracted to me then and you still are?” You were sitting on your knees.

“Why would I have sex with you if I wasn’t attracted to you?” He sat up.

Running your fingers through her messy hair you were trying to take in everything, “I don’t know we were both super freaking drunk.”

“Were you not attracted to me?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.

“Seriously you’re super handsome and funny obviously I was then and I still am.”

“It shouldn’t be shocking that I’m attracted to you.”

“You do realize I’m a bigger girl? I’m not the typical small girl that you normally date, right?”

“You do realize I still think about constantly getting my hands back on your curves right?” he asked, causing your cheeks to burn bright.

“You think about having sex with me again?” You asked completely caught off guard by his comment.

He nodded, not saying anything. He couldn’t believe he was openly giving this information to his best friend who he was sharing a bed with at that moment.

“Did you wanna maybe…” you paused and hesitated for a long moment because you were slightly scared you were going to get rejected.

“Wanna what?” he asked, turning towards you.

“What if we slept together again,” you sighed.

He pushed his eyebrows together processing what you had just asked him. You had just gone through a really nasty break up and this was probably your way of rebounding and no matter how badly he wanted to have sex with you he didn’t wanna be a rebound. If you actually slept together again it couldn’t just be casual sex to either of you.

“Okay you just hesitate so I’m gonna go to sleep and die of embarrassment,” you laid down quickly wanting to crawl off the bed and die.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

“It’s fine Chan, sorry I asked.”

“I want to have sex with you really badly, but I don’t want this to be just rebound sex,” he sighed.

Pushing your eyebrows together you stared at him for a long moment and swallowed trying to figure out what exactly you said to him. “Chan..” you paused.

“It will happen again, don’t worry,” he let go of your arm and was silent for a moment.

“What is happening here?” You asked, confused by everything that was happening.

“We're gonna give you time to get over what happened with Jimmy and soon we’re gonna sleep together again,” he smiled.

You nodded your head

“Alright,” you said before biting your bottom lip.

“We aren’t going to rush this,” he smiled.

[…]

The sound of the rain outside of Chan’s apartment caused you to stir from your sound sleep. The feeling of Chan’s arm laying across your stomach made you to smile. Biting your bottom lip and looking over at Chan who was still sound asleep. Part of you wanted to move over and cuddle into Chan’s warm body. Yesterday the judge had granted you your restraining order against Jimmy. You were hoping that the papers were going to be delivered to Chan’s office today making it official.

The sound of Chan’s phone ringing caused him to pull his arm off of you. You quickly tried to slow your breathing down to attempting to act like you were asleep.

Picking up his phone he rasped, “yeah Changbin?” You loved the way his voice sounded in the morning. When he was still half asleep and groggy his voice had a rasp to it.

“Yeah go ahead and grab some bagels I’m heading in soon. I’ll probably bring (Y/N) with me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the fact he planned on bringing you with him to work. Slowly you opened your eyes to see Chan setting his phone down on the nightstand.

“Good morning,” you said softly.

“Morning,” he said as he raked his fingers through his messy curls. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and then do you maybe want to go to work with me?” he asked as he started getting out of bed.

“Yeah I’ll go to work with you,” you said, stretching your stiff body.

Chan slowly made his way off towards the bathroom and you couldn’t help but stare at his tone back as he walked away.

Walking over to the rack of clothes you had in Chan’s apartment you attempted to find something to wear. You picked out a nice dress to wear that you could throw a cute coat over the top. Sliding your dress on you walked over and found a pair of black heels that would go nicely with the outfit. Recently since moving in with Chan you had started doing some secretary work for Chan and Changbin at their law office they shared. When you went into their office to help out you liked to look the part.

Walking into the kitchen you worked on making a pot of coffee, and trying to find something small to eat to hold yourself over until you got to the office where Changbin was going to have bagels for you.

The sound of Chan walking out of the bathroom caused you to look up. He walked over to his closet and started looking for something to wear

He pulled out a gray suit that was your favorite suit. As he started getting dressed you quickly looked away and started making yourself a cup of coffee.

As you started pouring the milk into the coffee Chan walked towards you and said, “smells good.”

“I love the smell of coffee,” you said simply as he lightly rested his hand on your lower back as he reached for his travel cup. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah me too,” you said smiling. There was something about Chan’s touch that just made you feel safe.

“Can you make me a cup in my travel cup?”

“Yeah of course,” you said, reaching for the cup he was holding.

“Are you okay if we take our coffee to go?” he asked with his hand still resting on your lower back.

“Yeah of course. Why don't you grab your bag and I’ll get your coffee ready?”

“Alright,” he said, walking over towards his night stand where his bag was sitting on the floor.

You finished making your coffee and walked over to Chan who was standing by the door.

“Let’s go,” you said, handing him his cup of coffee.

You walked the short distance to Chan and Changbin’s law firm. You stood right next to Chan the whole way there, you laughed and talked about Changbin’s love of bagels. You talked about how that was his go to food back in college.

Walking into Chan’s office you found Changbin sitting at his desk eating his bagel. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

The three of you ate your bagels and joked around a little before the boys got to work. Sitting at a table in the boy’s office you typed away on your computer looking at studio apartments in the area.

“How are there still no good apartments around,” you sighed. You had been sleeping in Chan’s bed every night and the sexual tension between you had gotten so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife, or at least it was for you.

“We’ll find you a place,” Chan said, walking over and sitting across from you.

“Why is everything so damn expensive,” you rolled your eyes. “I just want a studio, I shouldn’t have to pay this much.”

“It’s like that all over the city,” Changbin said sitting down next to you.

“I’m in no hurry to kick you out,” Chan reached over and touched your hand.

Looking down at your hand and then looking up at him you smiled.

Changbin looked at both of you extremely confused on what was going on between you.

“Are you two sleeping together?” he questioned, sensing the new tension between you.

Your heart rate picked up and you pulled your hand away from his, while Chan was extremely calm and just simply said, “no Changbin.”

Pushing his eyebrows together, Changbin didn’t believe Chan. Especially since his question seemed to make you so nervous. He could definitely tell something was different between you and Chan since that night you had left Jimmy. He must have noticed Chan’s lingering touches, and your longing looks. Changbin knew that Chan had always been protective of you, and that right now he probably felt like he needed to protect you even more than normal.

“We aren’t,” you said awkwardly. You technically weren’t lying to him, you weren’t actually sleeping together yet. The key word being yet.

“Then why are you acting so weird around each other?” he asked, still pushing his eyebrows together again.

Shrugging your shoulders, you said, “Changbin I have had a really rough few weeks. I’m just acting weird in general.”

Your statement made Changbin go quiet and made Chan smile. The last two weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for you, and you had been so filled with stress working on getting a restraining order against Jimmy. There had also been a lot of sexual tension between the two of you. You hadn’t even kissed, you’ve just shared longing touches and longing looks coming from you. You thought about the feeling of Chan’s lips on yours almost every second of the day. You would find yourself staring at his lips fighting the urge to get up and kiss him.

The boys went back to work and in the middle of the afternoon the sound of a knock on the door caused all of you to look up. You stood up and went over to open the door. You found a post office worker standing on the other side of the door holding a large envelope.

“This is for (Y/N, Y/L/N),” the postal worker said.

“That’s me,” you said as your heart was racing. You knew exactly what this envelope held. You turned around to find both of the boys looking over at you. Changbin looked like he didn’t know what to say to you, and Chan looked like he was trying to focus on the tone in your voice. “I’m free,” your voice was shaky and you were on the verge of tears. You couldn’t even begin to explain how you felt suddenly.

You sat back down at the table and slowly you opened the envelope to find your official restraining order against Jimmy. He wasn’t ever going to be able to hurt you again, and you knew deep down inside if he ever broke this Chan and Changbin would be there to protect you.

“(Y/N) is that what I think it is?” Chan asked, reaching over and resting his hand on top of yours.

“I’m free,” you said as tears slid down your cheek. You didn’t want to cry, but in that moment, you were just relieved and couldn’t help the tears. His thumb rubbed against the top of your hand, the simple gesture made you smile. “He won’t be able to hurt me again.”

“Changbin, why don’t we call it an early day?” Chan asked, standing up. He knew him and Changbin had more work to do but right now he wanted to get you away from the office.

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” Changbin said standing up.

“Let’s head back to the apartment,” Chan said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

Looking up at him you softly said, “okay.”

Chan grabbed his bag and led you out of the office. As you got into the elevator you were joined by a handful of people which caused you to be pressed against each other. Your back was pressed against Chan’s tone torso and he had his free hand that wasn’t holding his bag resting on your curvy waist. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on Chan’s hand that was touching you. You didn’t want to think about Jimmy anymore. You didn’t want him to take up anymore of the space in your mind.

As the elevator doors opened and the people inside poured out you reached down and laced your finger with Chan’s and led him out of the elevator. He glanced down at your hands and then looked back up at you and gave you a smile.

The walk back to his apartment you were sharing was short. As you entered the apartment you let out a heavy sigh. Chan slowly shut the door and walked towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing deep down inside you were going to be okay. You had a lot of thoughts going through your mind.

“Yeah I am,” you were okay as you were ever going to be. “Hey Chan?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he asked, sitting down.

“I’m ready,” you whispered. You finally felt free and you wanted nothing more to be held by Chan’s strong hands.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, reaching up to loosen his tie.

“Yes,” you said, walking towards him to help him take off his tie. As you removed his tie Chan moved his hands to rest on your round hips. Removing his tie, you lightly placed it on his bed. He moved his hand and rested it gently on your cheek. Lightly he tilted your face towards his. “Thank you for looking after me,” you said softly.

“I would do anything for you,” he moved his face down towards yours and rested his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,” his voice sounded shaky. You know he’ll never forgive himself for not being able to protect his best friend. You can tell him until you’re blue in the face that there wasn’t anything he could have done and he’ll never believe you.

“Chan, nobody was able to protect me,” you sighed. “I should have left the first time he hit me,” a tear slid down your cheek. You blame yourself for Jimmy hitting you, you knew you should've seen the signs pointing to Jimmy becoming violent, but you were just blind to it. You didn’t even want to think there was a chance the man you loved could hurt you.

“I should have seen the signs this was happening, I saw you countless times after the first time he hit you. I should have noticed something was up,” he slid his thumb across your cheek removing the tear that had slid down.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours for a slow longing kiss. His lips tasted better than you remembered, you felt as if they were made for yours. Your hands gripped his white dress shirt as your lips started moving together. Pulling your lips away from him, you reached up to push his jacket off.

“Nothing like that will ever happen to you again,” he stated.

The second his jacket was off you stepped away to remove your own coat. You took a second to remove your heels. You stood in front of him watching as he untucked his dress shirt and started unbuttoning it. As he removed his shirt your eyes locked onto his toned stomach. Your eyes traveled up to his face to find him smirking.

“Let’s get your dress off,” he said, stepping towards you. He reached for the hem of your dress and pulled over your head slowly. You stood in front of him in only your bra and panties. You would normally feel exposed but with him you didn’t. Reaching down you worked on removing his belt. You fumbled with it for a moment before he let out a soft laugh and removed your hands to remove his own belt. You stood there watching him as he removed his shoes and socks and pushed his dress pants off. The sight of him in nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs was absolutely mouth watering.

His hands reached behind you and unhooked your bra. You both stood there in only your underwear with only a couple of inches between you.

“I’ve missed seeing you like this.” His lust hazed eyes traveled up and down your curvy body.

“Believe me I’m nothing special.” You sighed and looked down at your soft stomach. You were still dealing with the fact that you didn’t feel comfortable in your own skin.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are so beautiful,” he sighed before pressing his lips to yours again. Pulling his lips away from you he whispered, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever known.” His lips started kissing their way down your jaw. His touch was a mixture of wet kisses and light nips. You held your eyes closed tightly just enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“How do you know all the right things to say?” You asked with your eyes still held close.

“Because I have wanted to say them for a while,” he said as his lips ghosted your skin. He dropped down onto his knees in front of you and your eyes opened quickly as his fingers hooked into the top of your panties and slowly slid them down your thick thighs. Your breath hitched as he kissed your thighs.

“Chan,” you sighed.

“Yeah baby?” he asked looking up at you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked as you signaled for him to stand up. He stood up and he was standing in front of you again.

He pushed his eyebrows together and looked at you completely confused by your question. He just grabbed your hand and put it over his boxer-briefs that were strained against his very hard erection. “You’re the one who did that to me,” he said, smirking. “I don’t want to be with anyone else other than you right now.”

Reaching down for the top of his boxers you slid them down his tone thighs. You didn’t think you would get over the sight of him naked. Back in college he was extremely handsome and in shape, but now he was even more in shape. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered.

“Come here,” he said before crashing his lips into yours. As your lips moved together Chan strong hands moved down towards your round ass and pulled you close to his body. Slowly Chan started walking them backwards until Chan fell back on the bed and brought you down with him. He rolled you onto your sides and you pulled away from him and stared at him for a long moment. He moved to roll onto your back so he’s hovering over you. His lips captured one of your nipples while you moaned his name. Dragging his lips away from your skin he looked up at you and whispered, “spread your legs for me.”

His words made you even wetter at just the anticipation of what was to come. Sitting back on his hunches between her legs he lightly pushed your legs further apart. You tried to steady your breathing and stay calm as you watched him steadily pump his length. Your teeth caught the bottom lip.

His finger slid between your folds as did gentle circles around your sensitive nub, and you couldn’t help but whine wanting more than just his fingers on you. Removing his finger, he held his length and pressed his tip to your entrance. You gasped as he pushed into you. Your hands gripped the cotton sheets below you. His hands gripped your round hips as he rocked his hips into your core. Your head rolled back and you moaned as he pushed fully inside you. He stilled for a moment and rubbed your clit earning another moan from you.

“I need you close,” you moaned.

“Okay,” he rasped as he held himself still inside you as moved his body so he was hovering over you. Connecting his lips to yours he started to roll his hips against yours again. Your hands gripped at his strong back he thrust into you. He couldn’t help but groan at how tight you were.

“You feel so good baby,” he groaned with his lips ghosting your shoulder as he continued to push into you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whined.

Your nails clawed at his back holding him close to you. The sex in college had been fun and sloppy, but this was a whole different thing. This was filled with passion and lust. You couldn’t seem to get enough of each other as his teeth nipped at your shoulder.

“Chan,” you whined. You weren't sure if you knew any other words than Chan’s name at the moment.

You panted and whined as he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled at his length as he came inside you. He stilled in you completely as you whined riding out your own high. Removing himself from you he rolled onto his back attempting to catch his own breath.

“I needed that so much,” you sigh.

He reached over to pull you closer to him. You curled up next to him and rested your head on his chest. Silently you laid there just enjoying your post sex bliss.

“That was better than college,” he softly laughed.

“That was way better than college.”

Leaning down he lightly kissed the top of your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for you. You thought it was obvious that the both of you had feelings for each other, but you weren't sure when you should actually talk about them.

“Maybe we could take a nap and then order some Chinese food,” he said as his hand ran up and down your spine.

“That would be great,” you said as you curled up closer to him.

[…]

The feeling of his lips on your skin drove you mad in the best way possible. Chan laid on the couch with you sitting in between his legs. He wore nothing but his boxers and you in nothing but your bra and panties. Chan’s lips were attached to your neck sending a shiver down your spine. He peppered kisses across your skin, and occasionally nipped at the sensitive skin causing you to giggle.

Pulling away from him you looked at him and just smiled. You had just slept together and you couldn’t wait to have sex with him again. He made you feel like you were the only person on the earth that mattered to him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Why are you smiling at me?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“How do you know I’m smiling? I’m not even facing you?”

“Because I know you,” he spoke softly as he reached his hand up and rested it on yours and he brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of your mouth. “Why don’t we go back to bed?” he asked. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you at the moment, and he didn’t think at this point he would ever get enough of you. He wasn’t sure how you had managed to wait so many years since that drunken college night.

“Alright,” you whispered, reaching over and lacing your fingers with his. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, you seemed to make him happy.

Standing up you pulled Chan’s hand and helped him up, you led him over to the bed, and stopped right at the foot of the bed. You placed your hand on his strong chest signaling for him to stop. He didn’t say anything, he just stopped in place curious to what you had planned. Silently you dropped to your knees in front of him. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip as your fingers hooked into the top of his boxers.

“What are you doing?” he asked as you slid his boxers down his strong thighs. You didn’t say anything, you just slowly licked his length causing him to groan. He sure didn’t expect you to start going down on him. If he remembered properly from your drunken night together you had confessed to him you hated giving head. As you took him in your mouth he was confused on how some who hated doing this was so good at it. Your hands gripped his base as you slowly bobbed your head against him. He closed his eyes holding back a moan as you dragged your tongue against the underside of his length. It was taking everything in him not to tangle his fingers in your hair and help her movement. You hummed with him in your mouth and he just about came right there. His fingers tangled in your messy locks and lightly tugged trying to signal for you to stop.

“Baby,” he moaned. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t stop,” he groaned.

You released him with a pop and looked up at him enjoying the sight of him on the edge. Standing in front of him you reached behind yourself and undid your bra. He was still standing there with the same grin plastered on his face. “Did you enjoy that?” You asked, reaching down and taking his hand.

“Words can’t explain how great that was,” he said, smiling. “I thought you said you hated doing that?” he asked, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

You placed his hand on your breast and said, “I used to hate doing it but remember that frat guy William I dated back in college after we hooked up?”

“Unfortunately, I remember him,” he said as his hand started massaging your breast.

“Well he liked getting head more than having sex, so I got pretty good at it,” you said, remembering back to your time in college. You were really starting to regret not telling Chan how you really felt about him back then.

“I hated that guy,” he groaned.

“I hated him in the end too, but at least got good at doing that,” you said with a little laugh.

“Okay I don’t want to hear about your asshole ex anymore,” he said before closing the distance between you. His lips were intoxicating to you, they were like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved from your breast to your round hips. He held you close, as your lips moved together.

Pulling away from him you grinned and took a step back. He wasn’t ready for that kiss to be over and he rasped, “I wasn’t done.”

You worked on removing your panties so Chan wasn’t the only naked one, “patience.”

Chan took this as his cue to crawl onto his unmade bed. Sitting in the middle of the bed he waited for you to join him. “Close your eyes Channie,” you wanted to tease him.

“I hope you’re naked,” he said, causing you to laugh.

“You can find out in a second,” you crawled onto the bed. For some reason being with Chan gave you a sense of confidence you had never actually had before. Crawling on your hands and knees you made your way to Chan who connected his lips to yours for a kiss that was filled with a sense of hunger. He wasted no time rolling you over so he was resting on top of her as their lips moved together.

He opened his eyes and couldn’t help but feel the love behind them. Pulling away from you he settled himself between your legs. “Are you ready?” he rasped.

“Yes,” you sighed.

He thrust into you painfully slowly, he gripped your round hips holding onto you as he rolled his hips. You reached up and gripped his ass attempting to speed up his thrust. “Let’s take it slow baby girl,” he rasped. Just the mention of him calling you baby girl almost sent you over the edge. Chan had always been flirty with you, and quite touchy, but he had never really called her anything other than your name before you moved in with him. Him giving you a pet name in the middle of sex made your heart race.

“Just like that,” you sighed, moving your hand up to his shoulder blade to pull him closer to you. You needed him to put his lips on yours, and you just needed him closer. When you were having sex with him you just wanted him to be as physically close as possible to you. His lips connected to your as your nails scratched his back holding onto him. You couldn’t hold back your moans as you moaned into his kiss.

Chan was a man who knew his way around a woman's body, and it drove you mad. He pulled his lips away from yours and you moaned his name loudly. His pace picked up as you hooked your leg over his hip giving him a new angle.

“I’m close,” you moaned.

His lips attached to your neck as he pushed you over the edge. You held your eyes close tight as you rode out our high. He panted as thrust into you holding off his own high. Your eyes open to find him staring at you with a sense of hunger. The way he was staring at you turned her on so much.

You pushed on his chest signaling for him to stop, his hips still and he panted trying to catch his breath. He was so close to his own high it wasn’t going to take much more.

“Why are we stopping?” he panted, still inside you.

“How do you want to end this?” You asked knowing that the missionary was considered boring, you liked clinging to him as you came, but you wondered what he wanted.

“Baby…” he trailed off as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you. “I’m not trying to fuck you senseless, this isn’t just sex this is different. I want to savor every moment with you.”

You were trying to wrap your mind around what he had just said to you, you weren't sure what was going on with you two. You knew you weren’t together but you were pretty sure you were in love with the man that was still inside of you. His words led you to believe that he had feelings for you too.

“What does that mean?” You reached up and rested her hand on his cheek.

“I would like to finish making love to you and then we can talk,” he said as his hips slowly started moving again.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as thrust into you slowly over and over again. You didn’t want to cry but what he said made you quite emotional for some reason. Chan seemed to care about you more than anyone you had ever been with. It didn’t take much before he finished. He stilled in you for a moment and leaned down and connected his lips to yours for a soft kiss.

He rolled off you and laid on his back with a smile on his face, he didn’t seem to notice that his words seemed to have knocked your world on its side. You laid on your side staring at Chan feeling extremely confused. Part of you want to jump out of bed and just run away. You wanted Chan and you to be together, but suddenly you were terrified of your feelings for him. You had been burned by love so many times, and you knew nobody would ever care for you like Chan did, but you were still scared.

Chan reached his hand over and rested it on your chest as you looked up at the ceiling trying to figure out what you needed to say. “Why does your heart feel like it's about to burst from your chest?” he asked, still trying to catch his own breath.

“Because I’m still coming down from that orgasm,” it wasn’t the full truth, but technically you weren't lying to him.

Chan could tell by your tone something was wrong, he wasn’t sure what caused you to start freaking out but he needed to know.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you said, attempting to escape this conversation. Crawling out of bed you quickly went to the bathroom. You left Chan laying on his bed very confused.

Walking into the bathroom you turned on the water and waited a minute to heat up before stepping in. You were hoping that the warm water was going to wash away anxiety you suddenly had about you and Chan talking about your relationship. You stood under the warm water closing your eyes trying to figure out if you and Chan could even work as a couple. For so long you had thought often about what it would be like to be with Chan.

You opened your eyes at the sound of the sliding glass door opening. You found Chan standing in front of you.

“Why did you just lie to me and then run away from me after we had sex?” he asked.

You swallowed and knew you were going to have to tell him how you actually feel about him. Pushing some of the water from her face you said, “because what you said scared me.”

He pushed his eyebrows together confused, “what scared you?” You could tell he was wondering if you suddenly regretted sleeping together.

“That you said it wasn’t just normal sex,” you whispered as your eyes once again started to brim with tears.

He stepped closer and reached down and took your hand in his, “is that all you thought this was with us?” You knew he was probably afraid to hear your answer. You had waited to have sex because he didn’t want to just be a rebound, and he cared more about you then he had ever cared for anyone.

“I didn’t think you actually saw me as more than a friend,” you whispered.

“(Y/N) you can’t be serious?” he said, taking another step towards you. He was now standing under the water with you and there was only like two inches separating you. You were silent, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I wouldn’t have slept with you just to have casual sex. I value our friendship too much to do that. I care so much for you,” he reached up and placed his hand on your cheek. His words were causing your stomach to twist in knots.

“Chan, I think I love you,” you whispered, afraid to actually say it out loud. “I think I’ve loved you since that night in college.

“You think?” he asked as his thumb gently brushed your cheek as he had his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nodded your head. You knew if you spoke again you were going to break down and cry, suddenly you were so overcome by your emotions.

“I love you too,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but start to cry, you had been through so much recently with Jimmy hitting you. Between you getting your restraining order and Chan taking care of you. You suddenly felt like an emotional mess, you were crying even though his words made you happy.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, sounding worried.

“Because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way,” you whispered.

He didn’t bother saying anything; he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. The sound of the front door opening caused you both to jump apart.

“Did Changbin just come?” You whispered praying this wasn’t how Changbin was going to find out.

“Yeah,” Chan said, nodding his head.

“What the hell do we do?” You asked, praying Changbin wasn’t gonna walk into the bathroom. “I’m gonna go out there and talk to him.”

He slowly opened the sliding door. You reached down and grabbed his hand signaling for him not to leave yet. “Please don’t tell him I’m in here with you. Lie and tell him I’m out and then go to the bar with him. I'll meet you there.”

“(Y/N) are you ashamed of me?” he asked with a little laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “Chan I would prefer he doesn’t find out about us by walking in right after we had sex,” you said sternly letting go of his hand.

“Alright, I’ll see you at the bar in thirty minutes,” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss.

He grabbed a towel off the hanger and wrapped it around his waist before walking towards the living area to find Changbin sitting on the couch.

“Hey Changbin,” Chan said, running his finger through his wet hair.

“Where is (Y/N)?” he asked.

“She ran to the store, what’s up?” Chan asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was going to ask if you guys wanted to go to the bar and celebrate the fact that she got her restraining order,” Changbin asked, not bothering to question what you went to the store for. “Why is her bra on the floor?” Changbin asked, looking over at the foot of the bed.

Chan shook his head lightly and wanted to laugh at the fact that you forgot to pick up your bra, but then again, you weren’t exactly expecting company. “She was probably changing before heading out while I took a shower,” he lied.

Changbin shook his head, “telling me why (YN) didn’t come live with me.” He joked, “how is your back not killing you from sleeping on his hard couch?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders knowing damn well he hadn’t slept on the couch, that you and him had been sharing the bed long before you even had sex.

“I’m gonna get dressed and then we’ll head off to the bar, and we can call (Y/N) on the way and tell her to meet us there,” Chan said walking off towards his closet. He grabbed something casual to wear before heading off to the bathroom.

As soon as he walked inside he waited for you to say something. He turned on the bathroom sink attempting to make some noise so they could talk for a second.

“Do you just want to go out there now and tell him or do you want to keep up the lie until the bar?” he asked, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

“He’s gonna freak out,” you whispered knowing that Changbin wasn’t going to take this well.

“Yeah he’s gonna freak out if he finds out another way,” he whispered back as he started getting dressed.

“I’ll meet you at the bar and we’ll work this out there,” you said, sitting down on top of the toilet and watching as Chan got dressed. You couldn’t help but admire his body as he got dressed in front of you. Before leaving he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll call you in five so hurry and get dressed.”

Chan took off with Changbin towards the bar, and less than five minutes away Chan called you and told you to meet him at the bar. You quickly blow-dried your hair and got dressed so you could meet the boys at the bar.

You found them sitting in a booth with beer sitting in front of them. The second you got to the table Changbin jumped up and pulled you into a tight hug.

“What did you go to the store for?” Changbin asked as you slid into the booth next to Chan.

“I needed more shampoo and conditioner,” you lied.

Chan rested his hand on your thigh causally and gave it a light squeeze. You wanted to look over at him, but you didn’t want Changbin to notice what was happening.

“What did you want to drink?” Changbin asked as the waitress walked towards the table.

“I’ll take a cranberry and vodka,” you said.

“Okay hun,” the waitress said before walking off towards the bar.

“What did you guys do this evening?” Changbin asked casually before taking a drink of his beer.

Chan gave your thigh a squeeze as he said, “we ordered Chinese food and just hung out. Oh, and (YN) took a nap when we first got home,” Chan said it like it was no big deal that he had left out the major detail that you had also had sex a couple times.

“Sounds fun,” Changbin said sarcastically.

“I personally enjoy naps,” you said with a laugh.

Chan slowly rubbed his thumb against the inside of your thigh, it was a simple gesture but his touch was making her stomach fill with butterflies. Not even an hour ago you had admitted you loved each other and suddenly you were trying to act normal.

The waitress came over and sat your drink down in front of you and you gave her a quick thank you. You took a big drink attempting to get a little bit of courage because you knew you needed to tell Changbin that something was going on with Chan because you knew that he was gonna get pissed if you hid it from him any longer.

“So Changbin,” you hesitated. You weren't sure what exactly you should say to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you just blurted it out because you weren't exactly sure what else to say. Changbin’s eyes just went really wide and he looked at you like you had two heads or something. It probably had something to do with the fact that you stated it like Chan had no clue.

Leaning his head forwards trying to process what you said he looked over at Chan who seemed extremely unfazed by your sudden statement.

“Chan, did you hear her?” Changbin asked, still confused.

Chan nodded his head, “yeah I did.”

You felt like you might faint suddenly. You weren't exactly sure why she stated it like that but you felt like you had gotten an adrenaline rush. You just stared at Changbin wondering how much he was going to freak out.

“Are you guys together?” Changbin asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“We don’t know,” you said, realizing that you and Chan hadn’t exactly talked about that.

Chan squeezed her thigh again and said, “yeah I like to think we are.”

You looked over at him and smiled, your heart couldn’t help but race a little.

“Wait, did you guys lie to me when I asked if you were sleeping together?” Changbin asked, feeling slightly offended that you lied to him.

“No, we didn’t lie to you,” Chan said. “We talked about our feelings today,” he took his hand off your thigh and took your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“I swear to God Chan if you break her heart, I’ll break your nose,” Changbin said, causing you and Chan to laugh. “Wait, is that why (Y/N’s) bra and underwear were on the floor…” Changbin's face dropped at his realization. “Did I almost walk in on you?” Changbin asked, suddenly feeling gross.

You scrunch your face up at the thought of Changbin walking in on you having sex. “Yeah you came kind of close,” you sighed.

“I would never be able to get that image out of my head,” he said, shaking his head at just the thought.

You and Chan couldn’t help but laugh.

The three of you hung out in the bar for a couple hours before you and Chan headed back up to Chan’s place. You walked inside holding hands, and you couldn’t help but feel happy and safe with Chan.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me,” you smiled, stepping towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and just smiled at him. Your lips connected for a soft kiss.

“I hope you don’t plan on moving out anytime soon,” he said with a little laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” you laughed.

“I love you so much,” he smiled.

“I love you too Bang Chan,” you said resting your forehead against his.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic #my writing #skz #skz fanfiction #skz smut #bang chan imagine #bang chan au #Changbin #Christopher bang #stray kids

1K notes · View notes

ellesthots · 3 months ago

Text

Fateful Beginnings

XXX. “gut feeling”

parts: previous / next

plot: in an untoward evening, Bruce gets protective.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, violence, drugging, aggression, description of injury, angst, nausea/vomit, basically Gotham being Gotham

words: 6.7k

a/n: oooowieeee Bruce is really starting to show his more flustered side 🤭

PHOTOS: EMT Says Bruce Wayne “Lucky to be Alive" After Harrowing Crash on Tower Grounds

You'd been walking the sidewalk just before Rai's when you got the news alert. Even with his warning, one that left you for a few seconds when first staring at the phone, it was like being pummeled by a brick. Tethered to your screen, flipping through the photos TMZ posted like they were scripture. After a few heavy exhales, you gathered yourself enough to walk inside. The familiar 'Welcome in!' before a double-take. "Y/N? What are you doing here? You said you left?"

In all honesty you'd forgotten about your last conversation, the last moments before tragedy, and hadn't prepared for what you'd say to people outside of what you were to tell Mar. You did your best to laugh it off, but he wasn't taking it. He walked around the register and stood in front of you, right by the Oreos. "Always been able to read you, friend. Tell me, what's on your mind?"

Ding! The door opened to a cluster of women and Rai gave you a playful finger wag. "Foiled this time."

You joined half of the pack as they perused the drink aisle, then the other that clustered by the deli. He was almost out of tabbouleh, and the second best thing in your opinion—baklava—was being thirsted after by the two people in front. You decided to get some pita and hummus to go.

Rai didn't have time to talk to you with the line of people behind you, and for a brief moment you thought about staying—but your bed was calling your name, so you kept it simple. "I decided to stay for a few more weeks, at the very least. I'll be back soon for more tabbouleh." You winked at him, smiled, and found yourself right back where you had rotted the past 36 hours.

Rai sent you a text about fifteen minutes later. Heard you're a big journalist now girl! How does it feel to be published?

The message stopped you in your tracks; it was the first time someone had mentioned the interview without also mentioning Bruce Wayne. It brought tears to your eyes. He was the first person truly interested in your experience with it, about how it was just a project, not the person, that was the cool part.

I'm staying a bit longer for the election. Especially with how much traction my interview got, I think I carved out some legitimacy for myself to maybe make a difference reporting on the mayoral campaign.

He must've gotten swamped because your next text from him wasn't until an hour later. Whatever keeps you near Gotham and tabbouleh makes me happy. Bouleh on me next visit.

It was a running joke how often you ordered it; it was almost a hyperfixation, the flavor of it orienting you to time and place whenever things got harried. You learned a few months after being here that you needed some routine and, well. That was yours. The glow of your iPad screen was also an ever-present friend:

SEARCH: Marian Grange

Google showed that Grange was the former district attorney, a big-time lawyer taking on some very high profile cases in her time. A handful of years ago she had made her way to Gotham—notably, with just enough years of residency to run for Mayor this calendar year. Since coming to the city, she hadn't taken on any more cases, submitting wholly to the pursuit of... socializing? She was often pictured with the elite, holding hands with a beaming smile, endlessly pictured throughout her public-facing Instagram going to various fundraisers and luncheons. Per her campaign website, she wanted to stop the 'targeting' of the city's rich. Out of the many filler words on her 'issues' page, that was the only information you could glean.

SEARCH: Sebastian Hady

Hady's 'issues' page was a bit more complex: in addition to his position of taxing the churches, he wanted to put out an immediate hit on the batman. He'd attempted to run for mayor in the past two elections, falling short of winning enough votes to make the final matchup, and it was clear why: his politics were inconsistent. Tax the churches, but don't tax the wealthy; increase taxes on the poor, so they could 'bootstrap' their way out of their 'unfortunate predicament'. As out of touch as Grange was, Hady made your stomach flip. He'd been a political science major, with no real experience due to being denied access to Gotham University's Public Administration graduate program. Outside of running incessant campaign ads on late-night television and blaring his oversaturated frame across the city streets, he'd mostly laid low.

SEARCH: Lincoln March

BRRT BRRT. BRRT BRRT. "Mar?"

"Have you seen the news? I didn't have any reception in the lounge."

Every time she went to the Iceberg Lounge you wanted to hold her by her collar and give her a desperate talking-to. You gripped the phone tighter. "It's dangerous, you know the type of shady shit that's gone down there the past few years?"

"So you haven't seen it." She slurped away on a drink. “Sour as hell.”

Ding! You pulled your phone away from your ear to see the TMZ article. Your gut cinched.

"It's all anyone's talking about. People are getting into massive arguments on Scypher about it, it's fucking crazy."

"Arguments?" You bit the inside of your cheek.

She scoffed on the other line. "You're joking, right? Some people are saying he was DOA and had to be revived!"

A lurching clump of bile hurtled into your mouth, forcing you to double over and squeeze your mouth shut. Everything about that sentence haunted you, from the almost incredulous way she delivered it to Gotham's colloquial use of shorthand when describing being killed. He might've been fucking dead? Fuck, fuck...

"Hello? Y/N? Hello?" She groaned. "You're acting weird. Haven't even told me why you're still in the city."

"Don't you think it's a heavy fucking thing to talk about like that? You can't throw around someone being, someone being fucking, dead!" You were more shrill than you meant to be, but you didn't exactly have the resources to control your tone while you clutched your stomach and held your breath, not wanting to taste the vomit you'd just swallowed.

"Shiiit, I thought you didn't like him." If she turns this into a conversation about dating...

"I already saw it earlier."

"Think it'll interfere with your interview?" The sound of background whistling and whooping created an unsettling soundscape.

"I really don't care if it does."

"Pretty rude of the guy, in my opinion. Stealing your thunder like that?"

She's drunk. She doesn't know any better. Hell, might even be wasted. Still, your hand shook with anger to the point you had to set the phone on your comforter and scoot back from it. You pressed your palms flat against your mouth to keep from screaming. Screaming what, you didn't know. You were beginning to understand what it was like for Bruce to talk to you as you struggled to speak through gritted teeth. "That's really disrespectful, Mar."

"I'm jooookingg!" She cackled and you heard a clatter. "Oh shit hahaha, my phone. Hello? Still there?"

Don't want to be. "Yeah. Do you need me to call you an Uber?"

"Nahh, this guy's taking me home."

"What about Gianna?" She always hung around Gianna; you'd only met her once when Mar got picked up, and only for about five seconds, but after a brief look over her socials (and an impressive LinkedIn) you were inclined to think she was a good influence. Gianna had to be with her.

"I haven't asked her to be exclusive yet, you know that." Her words were beginning to slur.

"Who's the guy?"

"Some dude I met at the bar, he's super fuckin' rad."

"I'm sending an Uber to your location. Come up to my apartment, we'll spend the night together." Did she always leave with someone when she didn't go out with you? You pictured her being preyed upon, studied in the pulsing lights of the club. It made you sick.

"Okay bossy. No." She giggled to herself. "His apartment is like half a mile north, he's walking me." She hung up. Jesus. You threw on your sneakers, grabbed a taser, and raced outside, scanning your apartment fob to access the free-use bike garage. Iceberg Lounge was about a fifteen minute walk south.

It was terrifying biking on the streets of Gotham. Half the street lamps didn't work, and the drivers were all fiendish assholes who drove like they wanted to smear bodies on the pavement. You'd almost thought yourself lost until you spotted a glint of her neon pink cami.

"Hey!" You tried not to sound too menacing; maybe this was a rare good guy in Gotham, and he was gonna tuck her in safely to his spare bed and make sure she had a nice, non-laced drink of water at her bedside. No fucking way. "Hey,"

"Y/N?" Mar looked shocked at your arrival.

You dismounted your bike and grabbed her hand. When you did, the man grabbed your forearm. You ignored him and spoke directly to her. “Let’s head back to my place.”

”Interrupting our date.” The man laughed, but it was indignant. He still wasn’t loosening his grip on your arm. Getting a closer look at Mar, she was disheveled; her straps were sliding off her arm, exposing the top of her bra; her belt was halfway undone, yet her lipstick was pristine.

“We have a rule to not go home with people when we’re drunk.” You flashed him a smile, his green eyes dark and menacing. Why do I always notice the eyes?

“Sounds like BS to me.” He tried to laugh again when he said it, which only pissed you off. He probably thought he was one of the ‘good guys’ and didn’t understand why no one ever called him for a second date. You snaked your left arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to you. A quick once-over noted him wearing a thick leather jacket with white cuffs, and dark blue jeans with rips in the knees. His shoes were a nondescript pair of white Nikes. “You seem perfectly sober, interesting.” Mar was unsteady in your grasp, her weight leaning slightly too much into you, her knees wobbly. Did he fucking slip her something?

You swatted away his hand, which had a butterfly effect; he swiftly grabbed your ponytail, yanking on it so you were removed from between them. He grabbed her by the elbow as you stuttered back, tears springing into your eyes from the tension of having your hair yanked. He couldn’t quite walk as fast as he wanted to, her legs catching on every crack in the sidewalk. In this city that meant a long, treacherous walk anywhere, and an opportunity for you to strike.

You pulled out your taser and ran closer to him before slamming your finger on the trigger. A small catch of electricity came from the tip, then faltered. It’s not charged. Fuck. He turned toward the nearest apartment complex, and you lunged for his neck. He was tall, but not too tall, and there were a few steps he’d climbed to the doorway. You were able to wrap your palm around half of his neck, pulling him down hard on the concrete. Before he’d even smacked the ground you jumped down the stairs and slammed your foot into his balls, as hard as you could, your left foot skipping atop the concrete with the force as it struggled to balance. He cursed, spit flying out of his mouth as he clutched his groin. Mar was barely holding onto the siderails at this point, confirming she’d been slipped something. His legs thrashed wildly, his grunts filling the empty sidewalk. He caught your ankle and you fell back, smacking your head against the bottom stair. For a few seconds all you could do was breathe, the air knocked out of you and your vision blurry, stilted. He rose to his knees, and you scrambled back. By the grace of whatever God may or may not exist, you were able to get back on your feet before he did. The transition made you wildly dizzy, and before you knew it you fell to your knees again.

Mar was barfing off the edge of the railing, crying. You figured she had no idea what was going on, just knew that it was bad; the first and only time you’d been roofied was out with Mar one night. You’d tasted your drink and within a few minutes you were feeling woozy. Make it ten minutes later, and the room was a glowing haze of smoke and mirror—literally. You were seeing double everywhere you looked, locked in your own cage of whatever someone else did to you. Thankfully Mar had enough experience to notice the initial signs of being drugged (at least, in someone else) and had immediately called an Uber and notified the staff of the bar. She’d tended to you the rest of that night, and when you woke up her eyes were buggy and bloodshot. “I stayed up all night watching you. I didn’t want you to like, choke in your sleep or something.”

You attempted to raise your head, but it was pounding, whiting out your vision when you tried to support it with just your neck. You grabbed your phone and managed to open it to your phone app, but he smacked it away. You watched through bleary eyes as it soared into a bit of bark dust beneath some shrubs, landing face-down. All you saw was a gentle emanation of dark blue light. It called someone.

“HELP!” You shouted, hoping that whoever it was would hear you. Most of your contacts (you didn’t have too many) had access to your location information. You’d gotten scared after a few harrowing abduction stories in the Gazette and sent a mass text to the people in it with your info. Someone would call, and it would be fine. “CALL 911.”

Mar slumped to the ground and balanced her head against the railing, tears streaming down her cheeks. This part of town was deceptively barren, of course it was. The man grabbed you by the ankles and you screamed, jerking your legs until one broke free. “HELP!”

A part of you thought it would be okay—until you remembered Batman wasn’t on patrol tonight. Your heart sank as you watched him latch both hands onto your other ankle… and then he dropped you. He turned and walked halfway between the road and the apartment doors—why wasn’t anyone coming out to help?—and faced you, his mouth slobbery and in a slack grin. He shook out his body and flexed his fingers, taking a moment to hype himself up. You tried to sit up again, grinding your molars with the effort, but you nearly blacked out. The only thing that came to mind were the earthquake drills from elementary school, of hiding under your desk with your hands over your head to protect from falling debris. He was falling debris. Inevitable. You wrapped your hands around your aching head. Pressed your elbows together in front of your nose. Tucked your chin, barely, to protect your neck. He took off in a sprint for you, his sneakers connecting brutally with your thigh. You screamed, and he kicked it again. And again. And again. “See how you like it, fucking bitch.”

Mar screamed behind you; weak, but undeniable. “Stop it,” She stumbled toward you as his foot barreled into you with unbridled ferocity. She grabbed onto his arm and he shoved her off. She reached back out, her nails digging into his skin. He shouted and shoved her hard against the railing, turning his attention on her. She had enough bearings now to dodge a single hit, rolling out of the way before another landed square between her shoulders. You were busy incrementally lifting your head from the cement, centimeter by slow centimeter sitting upright. The man wiped the arm of his jacket against his mouth, muttering. “Bullshit fucking cunts.” He slammed his foot between her legs, and she yelped, rolling over onto her stomach. A wave of nausea stormed through you.

She was slowly rising, but he slammed his fists into her back and she buckled. Her face hit the pavement so hard you hoped her nose wasn’t broken. She started coughing, stringy spit dribbling off her lips. At this point he turned back to you with a sneer. “Guess I’m getting double tonight.”

Sick freak. The pain was edging out your fear, and resignation was teetering towards fruition. You only needed a few more minutes to get your bearings. Long enough to heat up a fucking hot pocket. He slapped you across the face, and you fell back to exactly where you were. Flat against the ground. Thundering head. Unable to sit up, arrested by searing pain.

The sound of skin slamming into skin disoriented you. Thudding, smacking sounds pierced the air, peppered with the man’s grunts and yelps. He sounded like a hit dog. What, the fuck? You shoved your palms against the ground to support your weight, but it wasn’t working. You physically grabbed your jaw and the back of your head and tilted it up, holding it there to watch the scene unfolding a few feet in front of you. A horrible hollow sound echoed just as the man was hurled against the opposite railing, his chest nearly touching his shin as his body bent around the metal. His opponent was adept at fighting; fully hooded with a black shirt wrapped around the bottom half of his face, a thick, baggy jacket bulking his frame, gauze wrapped around his knuckles. You couldn’t make out his full face, but the feeling you got told you all you needed. It wasn’t quite fear, not quite comfort, or peace, but an indisputable sensation of safety. You let your head fall back, too fast, as you sobbed cries of relief.

The mystery man kept trying to fight back, but not a single hit landed. You saw it all in the lower half of your vision. Saw the guy try, fight, and run, and the other stoop down to Mar and help her sit up. Once she was in a safe, neutral position he turned to you—Bruce’s eyes were framed with black, paint smearing down his cheekbones and into his brows. He took your arm and attempted to pull you up to the same position, but you squealed. “I hit my head,”

He sat back like he was calculating something for a moment before cupping his left hand at the base of your head. Holding you like an infant, he slowly tilted you upright. He held his hand just above your neck a few seconds longer. “Gonna let go.” Tentatively, he did, and you resisted your torso’s urge to flop back down.

A car pulled up right then, one you hadn’t seen before. It was flashy, but not a sportscar. He noticed your eyes follow it and lowered his voice. “It’s mine. I’ll take you both home.” He paused, gesturing with his head. “Do you know her?”

You tried to nod but you felt like your head would snap off your neck. “Yeah. My friend. I think, she was drugged.” The pulsing in your thigh was violent, and you worried you might have fractured something. He gave you a once-over, then looked back to her. “I’ll help her in first.”

Bruce tried to help her stand, but she shook her head. “Y/N,” she called out weakly, moving to her hands and knees to crawl toward you. She managed to make her way to your side, panting with the effort. “Who is, why,”

Shit. “Um, he’s my friend. I called him when, when the guy, shit,” Your head was in agony. You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speech. How, clear is she? Recognize? Him? Disguise?

“I trust you.” Her voice no stronger than a whisper. She reached her arms out to him, and he walked over to help her up. He wrapped his arm around her back and to her armpit, hoisting her up and steadying her to the car. The side door opened as he walked up, and he helped her sidle in. He waited a few seconds while she adjusted, then grabbed the seatbelt. You heard him say something, but couldn’t… only if you want maybe? About the seatbelt?

You blinked and he was holding out his hands for you. The scarred, dirty hands that now had traces of fresh blood from reopened knuckle scabs soaking through the gauze. It made you faint thinking about him at the… Arkham. All at once you sat up, the motion sending you reeling. “Fuck!” Your hands trembled as pain ravaged your head, all the blood simultaneously leaving and filling it. “No, you shouldn’t, fuck,”

He squatted to your eye-level. His stare didn’t waver once. “You’re, recovering, I don’t, thanks,” Between every word was a gasp of pain.

His tone was firm, leaving no room for disagreement. “I’m glad you called. I’m taking you home.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.” He held out an expectant hand for you to take. You anticipated having to pull your own, but to your surprise he pulled you up with you barely feeling the ground whatsoever. He carried the bulk of your weight, snaking his arm on top of your shoulders instead of under, allowing your neck not to bobble as you both walked. The last time you’d been this close to him you hadn’t known his identity. You recalled his hold being so firm you couldn’t escape, how afraid that had made you until you’d realized it was him. You stopped trying to force your balance and let him guide you the last steps to the car; the door opened automatically again, and he helped you slip in beside Mar. She had her head against the back of the seat, eyes half shut.

“Need help?” He had a finger looped around the seatbelt. Your cheeks heated, and you stammered out a no. He shut the door, and you painstakingly buckled yourself. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you refused to buckle up, and how long he would sit there demanding you put it on before you finally gave in, having sufficiently annoyed him.

When Bruce climbed in, you felt like a child who forgot their lunch on the way to school. You asked him to retrieve your phone, explaining it was under some shrubs by the entryway. Not ten seconds later he was back in, wiping dirt off the screen before handing it back to you. He was so fucking fast.

Mar didn’t talk during the drive, and neither did Bruce, so neither did you. You kept one eye on her at all times, making sure she didn’t fall asleep before you could check if she had a concussion or not. You figured you did, and you were not looking forward to checking in the mirror later looking at the damage done to your left leg. Now I match Bruce. A bitter thought.

You’d had the wherewithal prior to leaving to bring your keychain with you, tucked nicely into your pocket. By some stretch he hadn’t kicked just a few inches higher, which would have probably left you with a gaping wound from the jagged ends of the keys fileting your hip. You held the fob out the window when he pulled up to the garage, and in another blink he was helping Mar out.

“Can you stand?” Mar was slumped into his shoulder as he supported her weight. “Might have to carry her.” She looked exhausted, with her eyes glazed over, her face sweaty. You watched her chest with diligence, and per usual he sensed you, reading you like he was superhuman. “Her respiration’s normal. You can check the rest of her when you get your bearings.”

You unbuckled and tried to stand, but even shifting halfway out the car scared you. The ground phased in and out of your vision, the depth completely lost. As much as it burned… You sighed. “Take her up first. I think I need help walking.”

You handed him your keychain and he went on his way. Only after he’d disappeared up the elevator did you question it. I let her go up alone with a man? In this state? You couldn’t berate yourself much though, because a strong swell of defensiveness ravaged you. It was like the you before and you now were dueling. Condemning your judgment and rationalizing it, back and forth.

There was truly just something about him. Maybe you were infantilizing him and the past week was clouding your judgment. Maybe he moonlighted as Batman to cover up his serial killer tendencies. Keep the cops trained on an alternate identity, a vigilante. But he made you feel safe. He always made you feel held. Even when your mind took over and convinced you he was wrong, convinced you you should be afraid, your body never internalized it. That gut feeling you got around other men; the other men at city hall, the other men at the club, some of the men in your undergrad classes, even some of the professors… your stomach never curdled like that around him.

You didn’t think about it any further.

Bruce jogged out the elevator and helped you out. You ignored how your stomach fluttered being pressed so close to him, fought the tears that begged at the edge of your eyes, and let yourself sink into his chest. At some point you closed your eyes and concentrated on the roughness of his jacket against your cheek, and the patter of his heartbeat. Warmth. Alive. Breathing. Secure.

You being so close to him made him keen to his breathing. His body felt tingly and dizzy. He held you tighter. Every exhale fluttered the hair in front of your face, wisping it across your eyelashes. Was his breathing too loud? Were you falling asleep? He rustled you slightly, just taking a step slightly too hard, not wanting you to—your lashes fluttered, having caught you right before slipping into dreamland. He needed to keep you awake, at least long enough to do a proper assessment. Long enough to make sure you weren’t going to die.

Walking through your doorframe was a beast he realized too late; too narrow to both walk through wide, after your left hip caught on the strike plate and you cried out. He hated how much it felt like someone squeezed his chest when he saw you in pain; if you or your friend had been any less injured, he would’ve taken more time on the perpetrator.

He sat you delicately on the couch, instructing you to sit upright as much as you were able. He unwrapped the cloth from over his mouth, shoving it into his jacket pocket. He asked if he could touch the back of your head, and you agreed. His fingers were as gentle as a cat’s whisker, delicately sifting through sweaty clumps of hair that, if it weren’t for even the air moving past it causing flinching pain, might’ve made you soft, weak. You startled when he removed his hand. “Can’t feel any bleeding, no cuts.” His voice was soft, his eyes scanning everywhere but yours. You were glad.

He asked the date, gave you a few words to recall back, and shined a light in your eyes. You recoiled like he’d slapped you when he pulled out his flashlight, the light causing physical pain. On the jump back, your leg brushed the pillow to your left, and he stared down at it. “May I?” You nodded and he pulled up your shorts; you were biting down on your tongue as his pinky grazed the bruise. “How bad is it?” It was at this point, when he didn’t immediately respond, that you realized he’d turned off the lights in your apartment and only left the lamp on in the corner. Thoughtful.

“Already bruising.” He grimaced, seeing the speckled outline of the shoe’s leather binding indented in harsh red streaks along your leg. His grimace made your face fall; he hardly grimaced like that when he had a fucking gaping wound in his leg. “What? Tell me.”

He shook his head. “A bad bruise, that’s all.” He grabbed your shin lightly and asked you to bend your leg. Then put weight on it. Twist left to right. Flex your hip. Everything worked normally. Still, his brow was twisted together, looking like he was gnawing on his cheek. You eyed him skeptically. “What?”

This was the second time he’d pulled someone off of you in less than six months. Your entire thigh would be lit dark scarlet in just a few days. He’d called Gordon the second he got into his car, and whispered an ID to his watch to ping over when he went to get your phone. He was sure they got him, but all he could think about was brutality; he didn’t like the things he was imagining, the drive to crack all the fingers off the man’s hand and shove them into his petrified, quivering mouth, and the equal drive to wrap you in a hug that never ended to make sure no one else harmed you.

You saw the movement of all these thoughts across his face, but the only source you could track them to was hesitation to tell you the extent of your injury. “Do I need to go to the hospital?”

He wanted to scour every inch of you to look for more lacerations, bruises, bleeds. For possibly the first time ever, he didn’t trust his estimation. You needed a professional, just in case. In case he missed something. In case you’d jostled your brain too much, in case the man had loosened a clot in your leg. He nodded. “I think you should.” He could take a back way there, walk you up to the doors and then put you in a wheelchair at the entrance. His mask would cover up enough, probably. He’d bring your friend with you. She could be checked out too.

You looked to his bloodless palms and fingertips that had just explored your scalp. Down to the splotches across your leg. “Why?” You felt like shit, yeah, but…?

“I might be wrong.”

”About what?”

”The extent of it.”

”What, like a brain bleed?”

”Exactly like that.”

You flicked your gaze up to your bedroom door. “I can’t leave her. Is she okay?” You moved to get up, and it was painful, but you managed. You slammed your hand on his shoulder for emergency balance, and you begrudgingly accepted his support across the living area. Mar was on her side in bed, squinting at her phone that seemed to already be on the lowest brightness. You whispered. “I got it.”

He let you go and walked back to the living room, and you shut the door behind you. You limped over to her and sat on the edge, tapping her ankle to alert her. Slowly her eyes moved to yours. The lipstick that had been untouched was now smeared across her cheeks, and her eyeliner bled and cracked off. “Are you, okay?”

”I think so. Are you?” You were doing exactly what Bruce just had; scanning her body at rapid speed, analyzing for any signs of injury. She looked a bit scraped up on the heels of her hands and knees, and you asked her to turn to take a look at her back. There was still the rough, muddied outline of his shoe from where it connected on her spine, but nothing else of note. Some general redness, and when you touched it she groaned, but didn’t shriek.

You looked into her eyes, but knew you had no idea what to look for. “Did he check you out already?”

She nodded, leisurely. “Shined something in my eye and told me to say stuff, I don’t remember what though.” Her words were still slurred, and the top of her nose was scraped, but nothing looked broken. You thought of the kick he’d done between her legs, and asked if she felt any pain there. She almost giggled. “Bastard forgot I don’t have balls. But, how,” She winced as she adjusted, her back rippling with it. “Cool is it he thought, I did.” She sighed and returned her attention back to her phone.

“Do you have pain anywhere?”

She glanced down at her palms and then pointed to her nose. Her biggest thing then was being drugged, and yours was whatever head thing you had going on paired with a throbbing leg. The thought of leaving your warm bed to go to a bright–fuck, BRIGHT–hospital made you want to actually die. You were gonna take your chances tonight. Oh, it was making you sick thinking about it…

“I’m gonna get some meds. Want some?” Whew, just a few steps through to the kitchen. I can do it! I’ve done it a lot! At least half of the journey is carpet, if I do eat shit. She nodded again (you were very jealous she was able to bob her head), and began your slow shuffle to the kitchen. The second you appeared in the doorway, Bruce jumped to your aid. You waved him off. “I think I’ll stay home.” You grabbed the counter for support.

“I’m taking you in.”

Furrowing your brow hurt your aching head. “I’m gonna take some meds, it’ll, be fine.”

“Then I’m staying.”

He sounded like a scolding parent. You shot a look at him and felt the ground wiggle beneath you. You squeezed your eyes shut which only made it worse. Tried to refocus on the medicine cabinet. So high…

“Let’s go.” He made his voice a bit louder, sterner. You finally scooted close enough to reach the handle, and now worked up the courage to grab it. You rustled around in there for a moment.

“You’re not really going to take that, are you?” His tone was biting. Footsteps, then he snatched the bottle of ibuprofen out of your hand. “Do you want to have a brain bleed?”

Shame coursed through you, another one of his thousand cuts. When you were able to look back at him, he had his eyes shut tight and his lips pursed, one hand holding the bottle and the other gripping the counter. He saw you looking at him and hastily turned away. The pop of the plastic bottle on the marble punctuated his apology. “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his hood removed somewhere between your bedroom and the couch. He huffed and tilted his head back to stare at the dark kitchen light. His shoulders rose and fell with every cycle of breath, one for every three blinks. The room was silent like that for a minute. He was so angry… no, he was nervous. Upset.

He caught your eye when you turned and his face fell into something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re not going, right?” He gave the smallest shake of his head and flicked the bottle a few inches. He didn’t wait for your answer. “I’m staying.” He made his voice strong, though you both knew you could kick him out and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Bruce,”

“You’re both incapacitated, leaving you here alone, it’s, it’s not an option.” He was getting flustered. You always took him there. He didn’t stutter, he never caught on his words, never caught on the sidewalk, never overlooked a pedestrian, fuck. His voice was raising, only slightly. His breathing got shallower, his fingers feeling chilled. “I need a minute.” He put his hands over his head and walked to the other side of the room, pacing in front of the couch. The fact the silence felt thick made you want to cut it. “I’ll be fine,”

“Please!” He dropped his hands at his sides and stood facing the cushions.

Deep breath in. Hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. He felt his chest start to release. Inhale, hold… exhale. Hold. Inhale, hold… exhale, hold… the feeling was coming back into his fingertips. Inhale, exhale. Hold… Inhale, slow, hold… exhale, slow, hold. Blink. Blink. Look at the wall. Couch. Hands. Jacket. In, out.

Another big sigh and a small shake, and he looked over his shoulder. He swallowed back globs of saliva that threatened to drown his vocal folds. His cheeks were pink, from what he had no idea. “I’m upset this happened to you.” He figured some transparency wouldn’t hurt, seeing as he’d just watched you get bludgeoned on the sidewalk and the… events of the past weekend. His jaw flexed. “And your friend.” He groaned, feeling frustrated tension fill him again. “I heard your shouting from blocks away. There were plenty of people.” His hands tightened in and out of fists, a motion you never failed to dial into. “No one did a damn thing.”

“Seems about right.” You slowly reached for the ibuprofen and put it back in the cabinet, letting it fall shut with a small tap.

Bruce was facing you now. “You don’t seem fazed.”

You shrugged, but couldn’t raise your shoulders in any meaningful capacity. “People don’t give a shit here.” You winced, as another blow of pain emanated the circumference of your skull. “Of course you don’t,” You flinched, speaking causing coils of pain to vibrate in your head. “Get it.”

He held back the full extent of his response, because he had a full argument sitting on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve seen the worst of it as him. I get it.” His enunciation begged no comment, but it was steamrolled.

“You don’t.” It was going to hurt to push all the words out at once, but the adrenaline of more friction with him was enough fuel to edge it out, momentarily. “You’re only able to be him because of your very unique, situation.” It was suffering to continue talking. “Even if people wanted to, to be you.” You took a small breather, placing both hands on the edge of the counter as the world whizzed by. “We can’t. We have, work, school, people are, shit.”

“We can talk about it later.” He walked to the cupboard and drew some water from the sink. You noticed him rinse it twice before filling. He held it out to you. “Drink. Sips.”

Some muscle in your finger had to have direct access to your brain because when you extended your arm fully to grab it, as soon as your pinky gripped the glass, you shuddered like you’d flicked a nerve. The glass clattered to the ground, exploding shards across the floor. When you ventured to move, he stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get it.” He didn’t want you tripping with how unsteady your gait was. He moved to your side and grabbed some paper towels, squatting once more to gather the biggest chunks. “There’s a, broom. In the closet by the door.”

“Y/N?” Mar had made her way out of your room in a drunken shuffle. She’d said your name but her squinted, hazy gaze was focused entirely on Bruce, who was now facing her without his hood, without his mask, almost entirely exposed save the black around his eyes. Her eyes widened. “Is that…”

In your periphery you noticed Bruce’s eyes flick up to yours as his hands slowed. For once he was silent, letting you take the lead–naturally, it was the first time ever you didn’t want to. Fuck.

72 notes · View notes

rideofthevalkyriess · 5 months ago

Text

home sweet home | chapter I

🌿 Pairing Small town au! - Doctor!Gojo Satoru x Teacher&Painter!OC/Reader; Doctor!Gojo Satoru x Dancer!Utahime Iori

🌿 Summary Satoru, or more formally known as Dr. Gojo was a great doctor from the big city. He lived a life that everyone thought was perfect: he worked at the city hospital, lived in a beautiful apartment in the center and was engaged to Utahime Iori. However, he had a big secret that he hid from everyone, which is that Satoru was actually already married to his childhood friend who he left behind in his hometown. And now, it's time for Gojo to face the past and the choices he made, especially his beloved wife.

🌿 Words 4.7k

🌿 Warnings [+18], smut, mature themes, angst, cigarettes and smoking, drugs, drinking/alcohol, adultery, commitment issues, marriage problems, divorce, death, illness and chronic disease, miscarriage, family drama, angst with a happy ending; (more to be added)

🌿 Author's Note Welcome to the first chapter of my new series!! I was inspired by one of my favorite comedies, Sweet Home Alabama. It's not the first time I've written, but it's the first time I've published, so please be patient. I also gave the reader a name as this makes writing easier for me. I hope you enjoy!

Satoru Gojo's life had fallen into chaos and it was entirely his fault.

But no one who knew him would claim that, as he was deceptive and good at keeping up appearances.

To the people who know him, Satoru, or more formally Dr. Gojo, is a great doctor in the city of Boston, his speciality being cardiology. He work in the city central hospital and live in a newly renovated old flat near Beacon Hill.

In his free time, he plays basketball and enjoys learning languages, most recently German. Satoru didn't have a large social circle, as most of his friends were in the world of medicine. And according to these same friends, Gojo was choleric, perfectionist and impatient, which made him a difficult person to approach; but deep down, he just took his job very seriously.

The news that the hospital nurses were gossiping about was this: Dr. Gojo was engaged to Utahime Iori and they were going to get married the next summer.

Such gossip was always accompanied by the story of how they met. It was a night when Gojo was on a night shift and Utahime was admitted to the emergency room with a knee injury caused by a fall while dancing. She was - and still is - a dancer by profession and well known for it. It turned out that it was Satoru who attended to her that night, and after a very promising diagnosis followed by release, the two exchanged contacts.

Their relationship developed ardently and quickly, like the rhythm of the great city of Boston. It had only been a year since they met and they already had a wedding date set, much to the delight of Utahime's wealthy family.

However, his relationship with Utahime and the gossip about him were of little concern to Satoru. In fact, there was one secret that kept his mind occupied during the day and robbed him of sleep at night, and that was this: He was already a married man.

And well married, to his childhood friend whom he had left behind in his old and insignificant - in his eyes - hometown.

But no one in Boston even dreamed or imagined that Dr. Gojo had such a deep and striking stain on his past as that of a failed marriage, so he secretly met with Hiromi Higuruma, a lawyer who specialised in divorces.

Specialised or not, the truth was that Higuruma was a shark when it came to his clients and was the best lawyer in his law firm - and the most expensive too. It was he who discreetly prepared Satoru's divorce papers and encouraged him to take the papers personally to his wife, much to his client's displeasure.

“You know, Dr Gojo, I think it would be a good idea if you handed over the divorce papers in person and had a heart-to-heart talk with your wife. I think you two must have a lot to discuss.” Higuruma advised as he gave him the papers.

“I can't think of anything we need to talk about.” Satoru contested, looking away towards the office windows. It was storming outside and the wind was howling.

“Believe me when I say that divorcing couples always have something to say to each other. How long has it been since you last spoke? Two years? Maybe three?”

“Two years and a half.” Gojo quickly corrected, making the lawyer frown.

“...Well, think about my advice, will you? And you'll see that things will work out.”

That evening, when Satoru returned to his flat, he discovered that although the divorce papers were light, the weight they represented in his life was overwhelming.

He put them down on the desk in his bedroom, and there they stayed for a few weeks, robbing him of his peace and sleep.

Until one night, he decided to put an end to his misery - and insomnia - and return to his hometown, Fairview.

In the early hours of the morning when Gojo made his decision, he was very agitated. He emptied half his wardrobe, even though he only intended to be out of the city for a week. He vacuumed the entire house, even though he had a maid who could do the job for him. And he washed the car, even though it was spotless.

At dawn, Satoru called his fiancée to tell her of his decision, while he prepared the food for the trip, which was going to be a long one. And upon hearing her fiancé's decision, Utahime was less than pleased.

“Why? Why all of a sudden?” She asked alarmed through the phone.

“I want to visit my family before we get married.” Gojo replied quickly, while preparing the sandwiches and a salad. “That way I can announce the engagement to them.” He concealed it.

«Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Uta.» Satoru thought to himself. «If you knew what was waiting for me in Fairview, you wouldn't say something like that.»

“Some things have to be said in person.” Gojo hid, as he finished preparing his food and carried his bags to the car. “Don't worry, I'll be back in a week.”

And although Satoru had made a promise to his fiancée, it would be broken for the most unimaginable reasons.

“I swear I'm going to get grey hair before I'm forty if you continue to get on my nerves like this.”

“But that's a good thing, we will match.” He joked, sitting down in the driver's seat of the car with a smile on his lips.

“That's not funny.” Muttered Utahime. “Drive slowly. And watch out for wild animals.”

“I will.” Satoru reassured her. “I'll let you know when I arrive. I love you, Uta”

She didn't reply, but she didn't have to. Gojo knew her feelings, which were now a mixture of love and anger. He knew that she found it difficult to reveal her emotions, which often led to misunderstandings. But deep down, she loved him and was very worried about him.

When the call ended, Satoru turned on the car and pulled his vehicle out of the carpark of his apartment.

The nervousness that had plagued him all night had ceased after talking to Utahime, whose voice always calmed him down, no matter what her mood. More calm, Gojo had the chance to enjoy the cool morning breeze and appreciate the beginning of spring.

The big city was as busy as ever.

Traffic and shops were in full swing early in the morning, and this was the pace of life that Satoru admired, liked and desired.

As Satoru left the city centre and headed for the suburbs, the city rush diminished. But it was still beautiful in his eyes, because it was an interesting mix of the urban and the countryside. Big and small houses, with perfectly tended gardens and families straight out of a soap commercial. Perhaps one day, when he grew old, he would experience that lifestyle.

When Satoru left the populated areas for the motorway, he saw little more than green forests just awakened from the harsh winter.

The rest of the journey remained like that, accompanied by the trees and the radio, playing classics from the eighties and nineties.

Gojo knew he was in town the moment he spotted a large wooden sign painted in white, announcing "Welcome to Fairview, land of sailors and crabs", much to his displeasure and annoyance.

It was dusk by the time Satoru reached the center of the small town that had once, long ago, been his home.

Near the beach, he saw the theater built on a pier, suspended over the sea. There he had unique memories of his teenage years, where life seemed easier and simpler. Satoru also appreciated the cathedral, illuminated by the fiery colours of the sunset, in the heart of the city.

And deep in his heart, Satoru knew that he missed his town, but at the same time, it was this very community that made his spirit and heart sick.

However, this was not the time for him to feel sentimental and nostalgic, as there were more important matters that called him to reason.

Satoru drove to his old home, which he had bought together with his wife in their first years of marriage.

The house itself was nothing luxurious. In fact, it was a very old cottage, located at the entrance to the forest that surrounded Fairview. On arriving at the house, Gojo decided to appreciate - or rather judge - the place that brought back so many memories.

Although the house was small, its grounds were so vast that they followed the forest. Close to the cottage, there was a small lake with a newly built pier, which gave the place its charm. A small greenhouse was built on the other side of the lake, with walls and roof made of glass, supported by white painted steel.

The cottage was still exactly as Satoru remembered. Small and tall, painted white and decorated with reddish bricks that matched the thatched roof. The windows and door remained the same, made of light wood and very traditional.

On the porch of the house, illuminated by fairy lights and decorated with a very nice garden table set, a dog was lying down resting peacefully when he heard Satoru's footsteps.

The dog, a German shepherd, quickly lifted his head and his eyes went wide, like lamps, when he saw Satoru approaching the porch. With his ears raised towards the strange man, the shepherd began to bark quietly, like a whisper, warning him not to go near the house.

Gojo, on seeing that large, unfamiliar dog, was startled to think that his wife no longer lived there. His wife wasn't the type to like such ferocious animals and this dog was very different from the beagle she used to own.

“You're not Maple.” Satoru muttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

As soon as Gojo had spoken, the dog got up and started barking loudly, warning its owner that there was an intruder on the property. He reflexively moved away and decided it wasn't wise to approach the beast.

Realising that he wouldn't be able to reach the front door, Satoru decided to try the back door, which was always unlocked. As he walked to the back garden, he noticed something that made him hopeful again. In the garage, which was always open, was his wife's old car, a 2000s platinum-coloured Mercedes that had belonged to her mother.

The interior of the house remained the same as he remembered it. The floor and doors were made of oak wood, which matched the coffee table and shelves occupied by books and trinkets. The sofa was large and cream-coloured, as were the old walls. The ceiling was adorned with vertical wooden beams the same colour as the floor. And in the center of the room was a very old fireplace made of white stone with a stove in its interior.

A picture frame with a photograph from their honeymoon was carefully placed on top of the fireplace. Satoru smiled slightly and carefully picked up the frame to take a good look at the photograph he hadn't seen for years.

The photo was taken in Greece, near the Aegean Sea, on a very hot summer's day. Gojo remembers that his wife felt very happy that day, in her translucent white beach dress and her hair blowing in the wind, as she searched for shells and whelks in the sand. And he also remembers his wife complaining about the sunburn she got, later in the evening.

“Satoru?” A female voice spoke, drawing him away from his memories.

Gojo put the photograph back where it belonged and turned to face his wife, with whom he hadn't spoken for over two years.

With his discerning eyes, he judged and admired her from top to bottom.

To Satoru's eyes, his Emma looked very different and at the same time very similar to the one of his memories. She was wearing a light blue painting apron, all stained with paint, as was her face, which had traces of oil paint. Her blonde hair was quite long, down to her waist, and tangled into a braid. Emma appeared to have lost a lot of weight and her face was more defined and tired, with dark circles under her eyes.

For Emma, if it hadn't been for Satoru's height and unique silver hair, she wouldn't have recognised him.

«Is he taller? No, he's stronger.» It was the first thing she noticed. The truth was, since his departure to Boston, Gojo looked herculean and healthy. The second thing Emma noticed was his beautiful, captivating eyes, and how much she missed having them around. Eyes embellished with delicate silver lashes that made him look divine.

But, in the back of Emma's conscience, there was a small voice telling her that her husband hadn't come back for the best reasons or because he desired her again.

«I know you want something from me, I just don't know what it is. Yet.» She reflected, as she watched Gojo smile widely.

“Hello honey, how have you been?” He greeted her teasingly, leaving Emma perplexed.

“What are you doing here? How did you get into my house?”

“Through the back door. You should be more careful, anyone can get in that way.” Satoru explained, slowly approaching his wife.

“You've got a lot of nerve telling me that when you've just broken into my house! Through the back door!” Emma said, raising her voice as she pointed in the direction of the laundry room.

“I know, that's why I'm warning you.” The man teased, boldly sitting down on the sofa.

Emma sighed at his audacity and put her hands to her head, trying to keep calm and avoid committing an offence.

“What are you really doing here, Satoru?”

Gojo, still sitting on the sofa, reached into his backpack and pulled out a set of papers, placing them on the coffee table.

“I want a divorce, Emma.” He revealed in a serious, firm tone of voice, which made Emma smile and relax.

“You wish.”

«Ah, so that's what your visit is all about.» Emma thought, relieved, as she left the room and went to the kitchen to wash her hands from the ink.

And Satoru, who didn't appreciate her response, stood up and followed her quickly.

“You don't have to make this any more complicated than it already is, honey. There are three copies, one for me, one for you and one for the lawyers.” He retorted. “I even made sure to tick it to make it easier.”

Emma looked at the papers in her husband's hands and didn't know whether to feel upset that he had insinuated that she was slow, or that he had shown up years later asking for a divorce.

She started laughing in disdain and disbelief.

“What?”

“You've got a lot of nerve for coming home, three years after you left, asking me for a divorce.”

“Are you complaining now?”

“Not really, I just expected something more extravagant coming from you.” Confronted Emma. “I'm not signing those papers. They're not in my interest.”

Out of frustration, Satoru started rubbing his hands over his face, trying to moderate the throbbing pain in his head.

“Come on Emma, why do you have to be so stubborn? Don't you want to leave this phase of your life in the past and start again?”

Emma, who had just washed her ink-stained hands, was furious at Gojo's words and accidentally broke a mug that was lying in the sink, causing the German shepherd to start barking anxiously outside.

“I don't remember you asking my opinion or worrying about me when you left. Or when you decided that Fairview was no longer your home. You made that decision all by yourself! My God, Bear, shut up!” Emma scolded nervously.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the kitchen.

“Sorry, he's nervous because he doesn't know you and we're arguing.” Said the woman with a tired tone and looking away from her husband.

“What happened to Maple?” Satoru asked, looking at the dog, who was also staring at him through the window.

“She died in her sleep. You weren't here…”

Gojo stared at his wife patiently and saw that her eyes were watery, as if she was about to cry. He could tell that Emma was still suffering. And even Satoru couldn't help but feel sad about the death of Maple, who had been a good and special dog and was present in many of their memories.

From the window, it was evident that the sun had hidden and the night reigned outside. Looking at his wristwatch, Satoru realised it was already late and grabbed his backpack, preparing to leave.

“I'll leave the papers with you, make sure you sign them.”

Emma went into the living room and leaned against one of the pieces of furniture, admiring him again.

“If you leave it here, I'll put it in the fireplace.” Warned Emma with a provocative little smile, which made Satoru sigh and put his backpack down on the sofa.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” He grumbled. “All right, until you sign them, I'm not leaving.” Gojo said, shamelessly sitting down on the couch.

“Careful, that sounds tempting to me.” Emma teased, approaching him. “Go stay with your mother. I'm sure she doesn't know you're in town.”

Satoru remained in silent and that was all Emma needed to hear.

“Satoru, please.”

He just handed her a pen, which made her even more frustrated.

“Do as you wish.” She said with a long sigh and turned away from him.

But Emma wasn't someone who gave up easily or declared defeat after a lost battle.

Cunningly and discreetly, she picked up the landline that was resting on one of the tables in the living room and locked herself in the bedroom, making an unusual call. And there she waited, until she began to hear loud sirens and flashing lights.

“I hope you've got something striped in that bag, it'll come in handy.” Emma joked, leaving the bedroom to the living room, where Satoru had been sitting on the sofa until then.

“Why would I-” Satoru complained, but stopped the instant he heard the deafening sirens of the police car. “You called the police? You know very well that the chief hates me!”

“And with good reason.”

Few stories of rebelliousness could surpass those of Satoru during his teenage years. He was someone who collected achievements like a stamp collector. But despite the wide variety of stories, none surpassed the night he drank too much - as he never had in his life - and stole a car owned by Masamichi Yaga, the chief of the police of Fairview.

What happened that night remains a mystery, but Gojo recalls rallying the car up a hill away from the town. By the end of the night, the vehicle was completely wrecked. Yaga never found out who had committed the crime, but he had strong suspicions.

“Hey Emma, I heard your call on the radio.” Satoru would recognise Suguru's sweet, concerned voice anywhere. “What's happened?”

“The intruder is in the living room. You can take him with you.” Emma explained, making Suguru confused and wrinkling his forehead.

Geto walked heavily to the living room due to his uniform and the tiredness of a long day's work. But all the fatigue and exhaustion quickly disappeared when he ran into his old friend Satoru.

“Satoru?!”

“Hey, it's been a while.” Greeted Satoru excitedly, and moved to give his old childhood friend a strong hug.

After a long hug and a few pats on the back, they separated. Emma enjoyed the reunion of these two tall, strong men, and felt nostalgic about her youth. Until Suguru decided to ask the question of millions.

“You look well. Where have you been?” Suguru asked, making Emma and Satoru look at each other intensely.

“Boston.” Gojo said, looking at Emma. “From what I see, you're still a policeman.”

“Yeah. They pay me well to walk around the city.” Geto jokes, fixing his uniform. “My God, Em, you scared the shit out of me. You know how worried I get about you living alone in such an isolated place.”

“Suguru, be a little more professional. You're handling the suspect of a crime.”

“She doesn't live that isolated. On the way here I saw that they had built two new housing developments nearby.” Satoru replied, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Still, she's a woman who lives alone in the middle of nowhere.” Suguru reminded him. “She's vulnerable here.”

“Vulnerable? Haven't you seen the wolf she has outside?”

“Excuse me! Firstly, Bear is not a wolf but a German shepherd. Secondly, I don't understand why I'm the subject of this conversation. And thirdly, Suguru, please, get him out of here!” Protested Emma, pointing her finger at Gojo.

“She's right Satoru, you can't force your way into a house.”

“But I didn't break in, I came in through the back door.” Satoru revealed with an insolent smile, causing Suguru to look in disbelief at Emma.

“Really? I already warned you to lock the doors, Em. You should be more careful.” Suguru reminded with a firm voice tone, making Emma feel ashamed. “As for you, this isn't your home anymore, you can't come and go as you please, Satoru. I will have to escort you out.”

“Use the handcuffs, please.” Emma says with a teasing manner. Gojo gave her a perplexed look.

“Suguru, if you can get her to sign these papers, I'll let you run me out of town.” Satoru suggested with a smile on his lips, staring at his wife.

Emma recognized that cheeky grin, full of insistence and the threat of turning lives into a living hell.

«No one so arrogant should have such a charming smile.» Emma thought, looking away from her husband.

“Papers? What papers?” Suguru asked, as Satoru grabbed the documents and handed them to the policeman.

“This is a private matter, Suguru.” She said, feeling uncomfortable as she watched Geto read the documents.

“A divorce application?” Questioned the policeman, looking bewilderedly at Satoru. He then turned to Emma, still surprised. “I thought you'd taken care of this.”

“Me too…”

“Clearly not.” Satoru objected.

“If you two are still married, it's his house too, Em. This is a domestic dispute.” Geto said slowly.

“...He didn't hit you, did he? If he did, I'll take him to the police station.” Suguru declared, leaving Satoru with a tense expression and a furrowed forehead.

The two men stared at her, tense and suspicious of each other.

“No Suguru, Satoru never hit me.” Emma confessed, to the relief of the two men. That was the truth, and although Gojo had many and countless flaws, being violent certainly wasn't one of them.

But the mood for nostalgia had cooled and an uncomfortable silence settled over the living room.

“Well, you two have a lot to catch up on. I'd better go.”

“Suguru, wait! Please don't do this to me! Take him away!” Emma asked anxiously.

“You make me crazy! Sign the damn papers!” Satoru asked Emma.

“There's nothing I can do. The law is the law.” Geto said, pointing at Gojo. “And he hasn't done anything wrong.”

Nimbly, Emma moved and stood between Suguru and the front door, blocking his passage.

“Please, Suguru!” Emma begged, rubbing her palms together. “If you won't take him to the police station, at least get him off my property. I can't get stressed out.”

Suguru looked at Emma closely and saw that she was desperate and distressed, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

He let out a long sigh and scratched his forehead with his thumb - as he used to do.

“Satoru, I think we should go out and have a drink, what do you say?”

“Wait, are you kicking me out? You can't do that.”

“No, I don't have the authority to do that. I'm giving you advice, because you're being an ass.” Suguru responded, with Emma glaring at the two men. “It's getting late, and I'm sure this discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

Gojo rolled his eyes and bowed his head, before grabbing his bag and heading out the back door without saying another word. Meanwhile, Emma and Suguru look at each other smiling once again.

“Thank you.”

“Just be careful. And lock the doors and windows of the house, please.” Suguru warned before going out through the front door to the porch where Bear was.

Geto petted the head of the German shepherd, that wagged its tail happily. Bear had known Suguru since he was a puppy and enjoyed the biscuits the man gave him.

Suguru opened the door and let him in, as it was already cold outside. Fairview might have a mild climate during the day, but it's nights were always freezing, with sharp winds.

Satoru was leaning against his car, enjoying the night. The full moon's moonlight, delicate and shiny, reflected like silver dust over the garden lake. A light fog rose near the forest and in the trees, he could hear owls hooting and flying.

Despite the cold, it was a lovely evening.

“Nice car.” Suguru said, lighting a cigarette.

“Thanks, it's a BMW X7.” Satoru answered, still frustrated. He turned round and saw the patrol car. “Yours isn't too bad either.”

Both remained silent.

“Have you got a place to stay yet?” Suguru asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“I'm going to spend the night at the hotel near the beach.”

“Aren't you staying with your mother?” Geto asked, but Satoru didn't answer. “Does she know you're in town?”

“No. I didn't tell her…”

Suguru let out a long sigh and smoked again.

“You should visit them. Megumi talks about you all the time, he misses you.”

Gojo took a deep breath and looked down at his feet, crossing his arms tightly. Geto looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Look, a new bar has opened in town. What do you say we go there for a drink and catch up?” Just as he finished speaking, the radio in his uniform sounded, alerting him to a new occurrence. “Looks like we'll have to wait for another time.”

“Hard day?”

“Yes, a very busy one. You must have brought the chaos of the big city with you.” Joked Suguru, finishing his cigarette and dropping it on the floor. “Well, I should go. It was good to see you.”

“You too. Drive safe.” Satoru reminded, because Suguru was a driving maniac. Geto laughed and shook his head as he remembered something.

“Hey, there's a reunion of old friends this weekend. Just people from school and college. Do you want to come?”

“ I don't know if that would be a good idea.”

“It's nothing formal, just a casual get-together of old friends. We'll have dinner at six at Shells n'Roses and then go to a bar for a drink. It's Saturday, in case you change your mind.”

Satoru nodded slightly and the men said goodbye with a pat on the back.

However, even after Geto left, Gojo remained. In the company of the lake and the moon dancing on the water, he rethought his life and his choices. What his life was and what it could be.

From the window, Emma saw Satoru and, although the man seemed eternally beautiful, with the silver moonlight shining on his white hair, she noticed that he seemed melancholic and quiet compared to who he used to be.

Although compassionate, the woman still felt furious and betrayed by her husband's actions and decided to close the curtains and continue her nightly routine.

She had already experienced too many emotions for one night.

Author's Note - Thank you for reading my story and feel free to comment or talk to me! Soon I will post this story over on AO3. If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment on the series masterlist. Bye~

🏷️ @kalopsia-flaneur ; @tojideckmuncher ; @hauntedcrownpost ; @nervousnightthing ; @slowlyshycomputer ; @kazehayaaa ; @blushedcheri ; @eolivy

109 notes · View notes

lindisworld · 10 months ago

Text

Close || Matt Murdock x Reader

summary: Soulmate Au! In which [Name] has Daredevil as a soulmate and Matt unwillingly wants [Name] in his life. However Fate does its job and always brings them together.

Prologue

a/n: this is totally not proofread and this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, don’t hate on me yall. still learning the ropes of using this app

The incredible phenomenon known as the soul connection, between two people intertwining their bodies and soul into a deeper profound connection. Whether it’s a scrape, a hit, or simply a paper cut etched into the person’s physical body, it’s mirrored by the soulmate. Fortunately, the injuries sustained isn’t felt by the other individual in any way.

There’s [Name] who worked hard in her owned business, a coffee shop; a calm and serene place where people come for relaxation. The sweet aroma of coffee casted over the costumers, a soft melody of classical music playing in the background.

It stood tiny compared to the other buildings, yet no matter how tiny it is. It’s popular amongst office workers, locals and tourists.

The exterior was a caramel brown that glistened brighter in the sunlight. The sun reflected off the tinted windows, stopping unwanted heat from going through.

Costumers bustled in and out throughout the day, a warm cup of coffee in hand. A new order came in every five minutes, the soft sound of the espresso machine brewing overlaps the music.

“Is your soulmate that reckless?,” Marci Stahl, one of the many people who frequently come, pointed out towards the bruises, taking [Name]’s arm gently.

Marci is a lawyer from Landman and Zack, which is close by to [Name]’s cafe. Well, was a lawyer at Landman and Zack. She’s also known as [Name]'s childhood bestfriend who had a major dislike towards the soulmate despite not even knowing who it is. Cause who injures themselves that much?

Though, she couldn’t feel the bruising of her flesh, she still wondered how can one person obtain so many contusions. [Name] brought her arm closer to her face, observing the reddish injuries.

Blotches of red and blue marks littered her arm; going from her forearm to her shoulder. The discoloration contrasting to her regular skin color.

“Marci, they're probably really clumsy or something,” [Name] creased her brows together in distress - most of the time the bruises were on her torso. None of them were this noticeable. Yet, these were on display. For everyone to see, she tried her best with concealer but they still managed to seep through the makeup.

"All my long sleeve shirts were dirty, i couldn’t wear ‘em. You know these don't hurt," she assured the lawyer.

Marci rolled her eyes, “The probability of them being a criminal is high. What would you do then? I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stated before turning her heel, walking out the shop leaving [Name] to ponder the question.

Fate must have cursed her to have such an unfortunate soulmate who hurts themselves every other day, luckily fate also decided to spare them and not make them feel the pain. [Name]'s thoughts wandered off to what kind of person her soulmate was, if they were some sort of criminal or something. Perhaps a gangster getting into trouble.

To be fair, the amount of bruises she gets is unordinary to any citizen in America. She did think of countless scenarios if she were to have a criminal as a soulmate.

Such as, joining them as their partner in crime or leave her life as a barista behind and make a new one without her soulmate. But, she doubted it would ever happen. Or maybe, it was one of the avengers. Though it was high unlikely, it still wasn’t out the window.

Almost 30 minutes after Marci left, the barista heard the door bells ring, her head shooting up, her hand instinctively grabbing the notepad in her apron. [Name] headed towards the trio who sat themselves near a booth hidden away from most costumers.

The warm air welcomed the group with the scent of coffee. Large arrays of sweets ranging from slices of cake to cookies. Soft chatters from individuals surrounding the place. Everyone else enjoying their treat and sipping on the coffee.

“Good evening, how’s every one’s day been?” A smile plastered on her face, her fingers fiddling with the pen. The blonde lady with pretty blue eyes locked eyes with [Name] before traveling down to her arms which had the noticeable bruises. It was evident on her face that she was ready to question it.

In result, [Name] hid her arms behind her back and awkwardly posed, hoping she’d get the hint and stop looking. One thing she always hated was when people stared and ask too many questions if she’s getting hurt or something else. Nevertheless, it was nice knowing people cared for her physical condition.

“It’s going great now that we’re here celebrating our win with delicious desserts and coffee. Later on, we’re definitely looking forward to lots of drinking,” A male with medium length brown hair exclaims quite loudly.

“Names Foggy, and you are…” Foggy said before glancing down at the name tag on [Name]’s shirt, “[Name].” He finished with a grin.

“This is Matt Murdock and Karen Page.” He says and pointed at each person. “Give us your best recommendations for coffee and desserts, [Name]. I’ll put my faith in your hands.” He added.

“Well, in that case. Is anyone allergic to anything?” [Name] questioned, look at each of them. Her eye lingered at the man with red glasses whose brows furrowed, almost seems like he was concentrating on something. [Name] then turned to Karen, who gently nudged Matt who broke his focus.

“Huh?” Matt asked and looked over at her, he registered what she had asked and answered. “Oh, i’m not allergic to anything.” He said rather quickly and gave a quick smile.

“Okay,” She brought the pen to her face, lightly tapping her cheek in a thinking manner. “People around here love the Cinnamon Roll Frappe and Vanilla Cappuccino, or a plain black coffee goes well with our chocolate croissant. We also have a variety of donuts. I’ll bring a box for you to try, on the house.” She explains.

Almost in an instant, Foggy’s face was overtaken by pure happiness by free donuts. Anything that was free and delicious is definitely welcomed in his life.

“You are the best, [Name]! Amazing coffee and free desserts will definitely get you a discounted price at our law firm if you ever need our services!” Foggy rejoiced causing Karen and Matt to laugh.

“Thank you for the donuts, I’ll definitely repay you somehow,” Karen kindly spoke and gave her a smile, “I’ll take the Cinnamon Roll Frappe.” She said.

Foggy let out an enthusiastic sigh, “I’ll try your Vanilla Cappuccino, dear friend!”

Matt laughs at Foggy’s antics and turned to [Name]. “Seems like I’ll do your plain black coffee with the chocolate croissant, please. ” Matt added.

[Name] took note and walked towards the counter, preparing their drinks in an orderly manner. She’s heard about the trio before from Marci. However Foggy was mentioned more often than not in her conversations with her friend.

“Hey, guys. I don’t mean to invade [Name]’s privacy, but I’ve noticed bruises on her arm.” Karen muttered quietly to the group, Foggy didn’t miss it either.

“Looks like hell. Could be from her soulmate or God forbid, it’s something else you know,” Foggy responds and glances at the barista making their drinks.

“I should ask her when we leave, woman to woman. So she’s comfortable instead of us asking her in front of everyone.” Karen suggests causing Foggy to agree.

“Great idea, let her know we’re very good lawyers, Karen.” Foggy adds. Meanwhile Matt sat there, listening attentively. His senses were already attuned with the bruises on [Name]’s skin. With each passing moment, Matt’s heightened awareness became more apparent as he began to sense the blood pooling under her delicate skin. He knew she didn’t feel the pain, nonetheless he felt guilty she had tons littered around her skin just like him.

Within 10 minutes, she’s has all three drinks on top of a tray and a chocolate croissant on one hand and the other was the free box of donuts. She walks towards the group with a smile, already grown accustomed to having both hands full and navigating through crowds with ease. Especially after many years as a server when she was a teenager and now a barista with her own growing business.

“Alright, lawyers. Here’s your order, I hope you all enjoy.” [Name] said and set the items on the table. “Let me know how it taste. Don’t burn your tongue.” She requested.

She held the tray to her side and waited patiently as they all brought their lips to their drink. [Name] nervously smiles and glances at each one of them. Foggy was the first one to talk.

“[Name], I may have burnt my tongue but this is incredible! I won’t sue you for my injury.” Foggy saids and simply fell in love with the flavor. [Name] laughs nervously, not knowing if he’s joking or not.

Matt must’ve caught on by her nervous laughter, “He was joking by the way. Although I do agree that this is very good coffee. Even if it’s plain black.” Matt complimented with honesty. These were organic coffee beans with no chemicals added so it didn’t taste nasty. Food wise, he kept everything organic so it wasn’t harsh on his senses.

“I also agree, this is very good.” Karen said and drank her frappe. [Name] exhales and smiles. “I really do appreciate it. It’s always nice to hear feedback from customers.” [Name] responds.

”I have to get back to work if you don’t mind, enjoy the rest of your day and congratulations on your win.” [Name] turned around to walk away before she was stopped by Matt’s voice.

“Wait- uh,” Matt hesitates before letting out a small sigh escape his mouth, “Sorry. I didn’t realize my chocolate croissant was here. A blind guy’s mistake.” He lied. He knew exactly where it was placed. Matt went back and forth with his thoughts, whether it was a good idea for [Name] to know that Matt was her soulmate. He didn’t deserve to have a soulmate, let alone friends who he constantly puts in danger. [Name] hums and walks away from Matt.

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #foggy nelson #karen page #marci stahl

87 notes · View notes

fvkvrodani · 4 months ago

Text

au where everything is the same except arthur survived... & heres how it can happen:

the fight w micah happens,, but arthur manages to hurt micah really badly w a knife to the knee & cracked some of his bones by slamming him against the rocks (they were fighting near a crevice at the mountain top...... arthur couldve literally just slammed micah against the edge of the crevice & made him bleed heavily from his head or smth).

so the fight isnt as one-sided ish as in canon. its now even bc yea arthur can play dirty too during a fight for his very life. he aint above stabbing ppl w a knife, cmon now.

so the fight happens w a whole lot of injuries sustained by both men. everything goes down the exact same as in the game.

arthur doesnt die; he passes out from his injuries. charles & sadie go back for him while tilly stays w the marstons. they got to him & took him to a doctor just in time for the doc to heal his wounds... altho the doc wasnt very optimistic abt arthur's chances of survival, charles & sadie still took the chance anyway.

they move to live in a cabin in the woods, a little far from civilization but not completely secluded bc arthur still needs access to meds & the doctor. charles & sadie tell the marstons + tilly abt this, & only tilly goes over to live w charles sadie & arthur while the marstons wanna start over & keep things on the down low. (john pays off his own bounty w the money arthur gave to the marstons, so now hes federally pardoned.)

several months pass & arthur gets a little better. he still has tb tho... but its more manageable now than it was before. he gets into an argument w tilly charles & sadie bc they wanted to stay w him while he, very self-deprecatingly, told them to just leave him alone in the cabin & go live their new, free lives now.

they, ofc, didnt listen bc "shut tf up arthur. we wanna stay w you bc we care abt you. you did everything for us... allow us to care for you. not that we wouldnt even if you didnt allow it." in sadie's words... more or less.

tilly still gets her happy ending, marrying a lawyer & all tho... it just happens very later on after arthur got better & was federally pardoned too. he attended her wedding as the man who walked her down the aisle & he was definitely, 100% bawling his eyes out bc thats his baby sister getting married!!!

mary & jamie gillis learn of arthur's survival when they saw him, charles, sadie, & tilly in... whichever town they all ended up in. tilly immediately had her guard up while charles & sadie were more welcoming to mary & jamie bc. theyve no fucking idea what the history is. arthur was... equally happy & wary.

mary didnt want his help this time tho!! she was just worried abt him. the two of them talk things out & mary finds out that arthur gave away the proposal ring to john; she was so happy abt that... but also sad.

jamie, on the other hand, was hint hint nudge nudge-ing the two of them—like hell is he gonna let this new opportunity for them go by! not like before. he might as well put matchmaker in his resume after graduating university bc of how he was trying so, so hard to make mary & arthur go on dates. (he just wants his own little family back...)

tilly wasnt happy abt any of that but she just. threatened the gillis w a smile on her face that if they did anything to her older brother, theyll be hearing from her personally :)))) & its not gonna be pretty :)))) so mary better not hurt him again :))))

(it was during that moment that sadie & charles realized how alike tilly & arthur are.)

anyway this is getting long to tl;dr: arthur survived bc of charles & sadie. then mary & arthur do, in fact, end up together again & this time... it works. it finally works. just like arthur promised her.

#arthur morgan #p.#marythur #mary linton #rdr2 #idk if i should tag the rest of the characters...#red dead redemption 2

29 notes · View notes

aceofwhump · 1 year ago

Note

Have you made a list or notes on whumpy Hallmark and if so where?🥺

You know what, I haven't yet! Let me do that for ya now. And if anyone wants to add their favs please do so!

A Gift To Remember: Darcy (Ali Liebert) hits Aiden (Peter Porte) while riding her bike and he gets knocked out and loses his memory. It’s pretty good.

Love on the Sidelines : Laurel (Emily Kinney) is a struggling fashion designer who finds herself with a job as a personal assistant for Danny (John Reardon), a quarterback sidelined with an broken ankle. Danny is on crutches for most of the movie and is recovery from his injury.

Spirit of Christmas: A young lawyer (Jen Lilley) finds romance with a spirit (Thomas Beaudoin) that takes the form of a human 12 days before Christmas. He was murdered and there are flashbacks to him being attacked and killed.

Christmas Homecoming: Stars Michael Shanks (Daniel Jackson from SG1!!) as an Army Captain recovering from an injury in battle. He's got a broken leg and suffers from survivors guilt and ptsd.

Hailey Dean Mysteries: Deadly Estate for some good poisoning whump of a medical examiner. You want unconscious? medically induced coma? respirator? bedside vigils? worry? waking up with a twitching hand? walking down the hospital floor holding onto their iv pole? Then this is the movie for you!

Love Blossoms: one small part when the main guy, Declan, gets sick with a cold during the movie. It’s kind of cute but the rest of the movie's got nothing.

Second Chances: "A badly injured leg forces fireman Jeff, who lost his father in a fire as a young boy, to rent a ground floor room during his recovery. Thus he moves in with Jenny, a 911 emergency call center operator, and her two young children, Luke and Elsie, who soon dote on him as an ideal substitute father and try matching him with their mother."

My Gal Sunday: Henry (Cameron Mattheson) gets shot in the beginning of the movie.

Signed Sealed Delivered Lost Without You: Oliver goes on a hike with his father. His dad trips and gets a seemingly innocuous injury on his leg but the two of them get lost in the woods and the injury turns out to be life threatening.

A Godwink Christmas Miracle of Love: Eric (Alberto Frezza) is run over by a plow near the end of the film. There's lots of surgery, worry, hospital stuff.

Retreat to Paradise: "Jordan is recovering from a shoulder injury and his grumpiness tempts Ellie, his carer, to leave him to his misery. But will romance finally blossom?"

The Christmas Waltz: Roman (Will Kemp) hits his head due to slipping on an icy sidewalk and has to go to hospital

Taking a Shot at Love: "Sparks fly between a ballet instructor and a professional hockey player as she tries to help him recover from the same injury that sidelined her dancing career." It's not got a lot of whump but it is about a hockey player in rehab.

Martha's Vineyard Mysteries series: The whole series. Jesse Metcalfe's character Jeff was shot on a previous case and the bullet is still in lodged in his back and it causes him pain a lot AND he continually has nightmares about the incident. It's great.

Mystery 101: Killer Timing: Travis (Kristopher Polaha) gets blown up and even though the aftermath doesn't last long its still wonderful. He gets knocked out, there's an ambulance and hospital scene (kinda), worried family members.

Never Kiss a Man in a Christmas Sweater: Maggie O'Donnell (Ashley Williams) accidentally breaks Lucas Cavelli (Niall Matter)'s arm while carrying a Christmas Tree and offers him a room to stay in when he can't find a hotel room cause she feels guilty.

A Timeless Christmas: Charles Whitley (Ryan Paevey) passes out in 1903 and wakes up in 2020.

Aurora Teagarden A Bundle of Trouble: Martin Bartell (Yannick Bisson) gets shot in the shoulder

Christmas on the Range: Clint McCree (Nicholas Gonzalez) is attacked and beaten up pretty badly.

Mix Up in the Mediterranean: Josh (Jeremy Jordan)'s twin brother Julian gets hurt and can’t do a cooking competition so Josh takes over.

The Christmas Cure: Mitch (Steve Byers) falls off ladder and gets a concussion

Love's Christmas Journey: Sheriff Aaron Davis (Greg Vaughan) gets shot in the leg while chasing a robber. His injury is bad and gets infected. He gets a fever and is rescued by an old man who cares for him. The wound needs cauterizing and he suffers fever, chills, and more.

Hearts in the Game: Diego Vasquez (Marco Grazinni) is a hot shot baseball pitcher who has a panic attack during a game which costs the team the game. Turns out it was triggered by the anniversary of his moms death and he has another panic attack later in the movie as well.

Fourth Down in Love is about an athlete who is sidelined by an injury. Broken ribs I think?

Rip in Time: Another fun time travel movie. Rip (Niall Mater) gets knocked out at least once.

Three Wise Men and a Baby: Paul Campbell's character has social anxiety and has a sort of panic attack in the park at the beginning of the movie.

Jolly Good Christmas: Will Kemp's character falls into a frozen river and he comes out shaking and shivering and she gets him a blanket and tea and he needs a hot shower.

That's all I've got for right now. The bolded ones have the best whump in my opinion so definitely check those out first :) Love's Christmas Journey and the Martha's Vineyard Mysteries are A+ whump hallmark movies. Do those first ;)

#hallmark #whump #whumpy hallmark movies #mod replies #ask #whump list

53 notes · View notes

offender42085 · 1 year ago

Photo

Post 0598

Pablo D Lyle, Florida inmate S61685, born 1986, incarceration intake February 2023 at age 36, scheduled for release Marchl 2027; subject to immigration hold and detention

Manslaughter

In February 2023, a Mexican actor convicted of involuntary manslaughter was sentenced to five years in prison for issuing a deadly punch during a road rage confrontation in Miami in 2019.

Pablo Lyle, 36, a well regarded Mexican telenovela star who appeared in Netflix’s “Yankee,” faced a maximum sentence of up to 15 years in prison in the death of 63-year-old Juan Ricardo Hernández.

Security cameras reportedly showed Lyle punch Hernández in the face after an argument on the road. Lyle claimed the punch was in self-defense, adding that he feared the man was armed and his children were scared. According to press accounts, Hernández was not armed and died at the hospital four days later from a traumatic brain injury.

The sentencing by Miami-Dade Circuit Judge Marisa Tinkler Mendez came almost four years after Lyle was charged with murder in the incident and two months after she rejected the actor’s request for a new trial.

In addition to the five-year sentence, the judge ordered Lyle to eight years of probation, conflict resolution management and 500 hours of community service.

During the sentencing hearing, which lasted more than three hours, Lyle reportedly looked calm and expressed remorse for his actions.

“I am very sorry,” Lyle said in Spanish, looking at some of Hernández’s family members who were in the courtroom. “I always pray for him and for you, with all my heart.” The victim’s son was among those family members and had reportedly asked the judge to sentence Lyle to the 15-year maximum. He said he was with his father the day before the altercation.

“I didn’t want to believe it was him,” Hernández’s son said of going to the hospital to see his father after receiving news of the incident. He described his father as a “very happy, attentive person, with good health and principles.”

During the trial, Lyle’s lawyers argued that the punch was in self-defense and said there were inconsistencies with the evidence provided.

The judge, on the other hand, said Lyle made a “poor decision” by acting “out of anger.” “The evidence shows that the action of Mr. Lyle was an act of violence,” Tinkler said. “Mr. Lyle has to be held responsible for those actions.”

The incident took place on March 31, 2019, when Lyle’s bother-in-law was taking him, his wife and two children to the airport. Surveillance video released at the time showed Hernández get out of his car at a stop light to confront Lyle’s brother-in-law, who was in front of him at the light, for reportedly cutting him off.

The brother-in-law got out of the car to argue with Hernández, who eventually turned around to head back toward his car. At that moment, Lyle jumped out of the car, ran toward Hernández and punched him before getting back into the car and leaving the scene.

Hernández reportedly collapsed in the road near his car.

Last reviewed October 2024

81 notes · View notes

gracethyomen · 11 months ago

Text

"Olympics, Menus and Artists"

Hey y'all. Its me. Ya prophet. I come bearing angst/comfort and some Mattalie for you all this fine evening. This chapter is a long one so buckle in. I wanted to get some of Natalie's personal life into this one and get more of a judge of how she is as a person outside of just her relationship with Matt and the gang.

Warnings: Buckle tf up this one is wild. Kidnapping, mention of kidnapping, mention of death, violence, mention of violence, blood, language, guns, imprisonment, crying, injuries to main character, panic attacks, catholicism, praying. This is part one of the original post I have on my page that started this whole shebang, so some of it might look familiar.

Natalie sighed heavily and tucked her chin into her jacket against the wind, clutching her niece's gloved hand in hers as they walked down the street,

"Katie, i'm sorry I couldn't make it to your ceremony last week." She spoke over the rush of air, looking at the sweet dark-haired girl by her side.

"That's okay." The girl reassured with an easy smile. "You had lawyer stuff to do, right?"

"I'm not a lawyer, Kate, I just help them out." Natalie laughed, ruffling the girl's hair with her free hand. "I do paperwork... Plan cases... Investigate legal documents..."

"Sounds interesting." The girl hummed, tucking into Nat's side. "I wanna be a lawyer some day." She wondered aloud.

"You do?" Natalie looked at her incredulously, opening the door to a restaurant for the two of them. "Since when? I thought you were set on Olympics."

"My mom says it's unrealistic." She huffed.

Natalie hummed and smiled when the hostess came up to them. "Reservation for two. Bishop." She said kindly. "Two kids menus please." The hostess nodded politely and led them to a secluded booth near the corner, taking their drink orders before leaving them to continue talking.

"My mom says i'm too old to color in the kids menus." Kate added, looking at the crayons sadly.

"Well that's why we're not going to color." Natalie reassured, deftly flipping the menus over to the clean back. "We're going to draw. Drawing is a fine art, i'm sure your mother would approve."

"She says artists are all broke and delusional." Kate huffed, but picked up the purple crayon and put it to the paper.

"Man, Olympics, menus, artists..." Natalie laughed lightly. "Sounds like your mom needs to have more fun." She smirked conspiratorially at Kate. "Maybe we should show her sometime. Then I think she'd have a lot of fun."

"I don't think she likes you." Kate said sadly. Natalie paused her coloring. "I don't know why. You're awesome. She just says she doesn't need your nose in her business."

"She said that?" Natalie asked, trying to seem unbothered but failing.

"Only when she drinks." Kate shrugged, not looking up from her drawing.

Natalie cleared her throat, leaning across the table to look at the drawing closer. "What're you drawing, pumpkin?" She asked, tilting her head to try and get the perspective.

"Hawkeye." The girl said, matter-of-fact. Natalie nodded, now making sense of the arches and curves of the bow and quiver, the straight lines of the suit.

"Still your favorite?" She asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. "He's the best shot in the world."

Natalie smiled and tapped the drawing, making Kate look at her. "For now." The girl smiled so wide it made Nat's heart weep a little.

"Do you miss my dad, Aunt Nat?"

Natalie's smile dropped for a moment, but she pushed her hair back over her shoulder and plastered it back on, ignoring the thoughts regarding her estranged late brother.

"All the time, Pumpkin."

"Just one little sign..." Foggy insisted, hands open and pleading jokingly with Karen.

"What would it cost? You can hardly afford to pay me!" Karen laughed. Nat smiled a little at that, shuffling the physical copies of Karen's case and putting them in the filing cabinet as the first file.

"I thought you were working for free?" Foggy countered.

"Only for a day."

The door opened, revealing Matt... With a nasty black eye.

Wordlessly Natalie stood and met him halfway, turning his head with a soft touch on his jaw. "What happened?" She whispered.

"Jesus, Matt!" Foggy swore, and she heard Karen gasp too behind her.

"I'm fine." Matt insisted, tilting his head away from Natalie's touch and she walked past him to the rickety fridge, snatching a package of frozen peas from the tiny freezer. "I wasn't paying attention, it's my fault."

"You need a dog." Natalie scolded in a sing-song voice, wordlessly handing him the peas before moving back to her desk.

"I'm not getting a dog." Matt snickered. He heard Natalie sigh but she didn't say anything. She wanted to, but she didn't. She was wearing the brown sweater top today. The one with the boat neck she liked to shove up around her elbows because the sleeves were too long. He could hear it in the way the fabric brushed the desk. When she shifted her legs under the table, a specific sound of shifting fabric hit his ears. The black wide-leg trousers today. The scent of her jasmine and ginger shampoo was particularly present; she'd washed her hair this morning. And put it in a... ponytail. The way her soft curtain bangs hung around her face told him she'd worn her glasses instead of contacts today. He liked imagining her with glasses. Cute frames around her big eyes. Foggy had told him that. he'd described them like bug-eyes but knew they were more like doe's eyes. Although he liked the image of her in glasses in his head, it made the air currents around her face a little harder to decipher.

In his rapt state trying to paint a picture of Natalie on that particular morning, he had missed most of the conversation between Foggy and Karen, but the long silence was enough for him to hum in question, tilting his head at the two of them.

"There's someone at the door."

"Our door?" Matt questioned, standing from his desk with a soft groan, dropping the peas from the side of his face.

"I'll get it," Natalie murmured, moving to open the door to their rickety office. A man was outside, he noted. Wearing a freshly pressed suit and lacquered shoes from the smell of him. The cologne was refined. A man of class. Expensive. What was he doing here?

"Hello there." The man chuckled when Natalie stepped back to let him in. "Enchante." He whispered to her only, when he lifted his hand for a shake, she met him, but he instead lifted it to his mouth for a soft, demure kiss. The exchange lasted less than a second, but it set Matt's blood boiling. Before he could speak, the man entered further into the office and looked at the rest of them. "Do you take walk-ins?"

Exactly three minutes and seven seconds later they were all sat at the adjoining conference table with Karen taking notes and Natalie with a folder in front of her. Since Karen's employ it opened up Natalie's abilities to do more of a paralegal's job than a secretary. Spreading out the many responsibilities she had previously shouldered.

"I represent a consortium with diversified interests in the private sector, both domestic and international." The man explained. "From time to time, we scout the landscape for promising talent to put on retainer."

"Retainer?" Matt snarked, and Natalie tapped his leg under the table, checking his tone. "Why are you approaching us? Why not a larger firm, Mr..."

"Confederated Global Investments is my employer." He filled in.

"Not what I was asking," Matt said flatly.

Natalie glanced at him in her periphery. Her brows furrowed; why was he being so rude? Sure the man seemed a bit foreboding but usually he wasn't this open with his judgment.

"It's the only name relevant to this discussion, Mr. Murdock." The man inclined his head just a fraction of a degree, smiling just a little at Natalie, causing her to clear her throat and focus on the table.

"So why us?" Matt continued on, clenching his jaw at Natalie's reaction.

"Obviously the larger firms aren't able to provide the same hands-on attention that we pride ourselves on at Nelson and Murdock." Foggy tried, also looking at Matt confusedly.

"It's a fair question." The man considered, folding his hands neatly on the poorly stained table. "I'm here because my employer does extensive business in Hell's Kitchen and who knows it better than two local boys and their lovely paralegal who graduated from Columbia law, cum laude and summa cum laude?" The man gave a closed-mouthed, charming smile. "You set up shop right here in your backyard despite the fact that both of you were made a very lucrative offer from Landman and Zach in Manhattan where you interned."

"You've done your homework," Natalie remarked, raising a singular eyebrow. She crossed her legs under the table, shifting carefully in her seat.

"What Ms. Bishop is trying to say is we're still building a practice so we're very particular about our clientele." Foggy interjected, also seeming unsure as to where the conversation was headed.

"I assure you, all my employer wants is for you to continue to be ethical, decent men," He looked at Natalie. "And women. Good lawyers." He ended. "For that, and nothing more than your exceptional skills and discretion you'll be fairly compensated."

Foggy's eyes widened as the man slid him a check across the table, Natalie eyed it from beside him and found her mouth dropping open at the sum written there. "It's-It's fair. That's... That's fair."

"Your partner doesn't seem convinced." The man looked at Matt thoughtfully, sizing him up from his stiff posture to the grip on his white cane.

"Like Foggy said," Matt said carefully. "We're particular about our clientele."

"Perhaps you should review one of our cases before you make a decision?" The man stood, adjusting his expensive suit before he placed a crisp file on the table before them. "Peace of mind and whatnot."

"That's a fantastic idea." Natalie said amicably. "Matthew? What harm could it do?" She swiped the file and added it to her pile of papers, passing them to Foggy and standing.

"You have thirty-eight minutes to get to precinct fifteen. Everything you need is in that file." He passed around the table to meet Natalie at the door. "Thank you for your time."

"I'll show you out." Natalie said, just as she heard Foggy start to splutter out questions. She opened the door and the both of them walked through it, Natalie passing in front of him to open the door to the office.

"Walk with me for a moment, Ms. Bishop?" The man asked, Natalie paused for a long moment but nodded her agreement, grabbing her long coat from the hook near the door.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Confed Global?" Natalie tried, crossing her arms over herself to hide her nerves.

They made their way to the street before he answered her. "I'm very familiar with your sister-in-law, Natalie." The man raised his voice over the sound of the street around them. "She's told me much about you."

"She did?" Natalie stiffened just a tad, unsure of how to respond. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, very good things, Natalie. Very good." The man chuckled, drawing a white card from his coat. "My employer and I are interested in working in much closer regard with you as well as her." Natalie stopped walking to take the card from him, staring at the numbers written on it. "You are better than a do-gooding law firm out of a broom closet, Natalie. Your brother thought that, so does my employer." He tapped the card with a finger. "This is my personal number. Call me." Before she could stop him the man leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, making her take a half step back in shock.

She stood there for a long moment, watching the man as he walked away and pulled his phone out of his pocket, watched him more as he walked a whole block before getting into a large black SUV.

She watched him until she couldn't and then she turned to walk back to the office and her coworkers, shoving the card into her jacket pocket. Just when she thought her relationship with her sister-in-law couldn't get any stranger.

Natalie shoved the keys into her door with a soft groan, feeling the clip in her hair dig into her aching head. Long day, a nightmare case... She was still so confused about the card in her pocket and the man who gave it to her. More confused about how he knew her brother's widow.

All things she didn't have time to ponder because a hand gripped the back of her head tight and yanked it back. Another hand covering her mouth as panic took over her body.

"I hate being broke." Foggy whined, leaning back in his broken chair and staring at their water stained ceiling.

"You think Landman and Zach would have been better?" Matt snarked, smiling into his glass.

"No." Foggy held up a hand, "But they had free bagels... every morning." Matt laughed at that but he kept going. "And they had furniture that didn't smell like a pack of cigarettes."

"This is true," Matt conceded. "We're doing good here, Foggy."

"Are we?"

"Yeah we're making a difference." He reassured him, loosening his tie with one hand. It was at that exact moment that the burner phone in his pocket began to ring, sending a soft jolt through his body. Claire. Only Claire had that number.

"You get a new phone?" Foggy asked, raising an eyebrow when matt pulled it from his pocket. "It's a girl isn't it? You got a new phone just for your girls."

Matt laughed as Foggy stood and gathered his things moving towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Foggy." He called out, just as he heard the front door shut and Foggy's soft murmur about how his life sucked.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked into the phone, only hearing commotion from the other side. "Claire?" A crash, more noise. "Claire, can you hear me?" It was then that he heard a scream, somewhere between a shout and a sob. Bloodcurdling. "Natalie..." He whispered, recognizing the tone of voice. "Natalie!" He repeated, gripping the phone tightly between his fingers.

"Yeah we have the woman." An accented Russian voice spoke through the phone. "A young man named Santino was kind enough to introduce us." Matt opened his mouth to pour a threat into the phone when the call clicked. All at once his hands started to shake, he threw his briefcase against the wall with an animalistic shout, pulling his tie completely from his neck and running a frantic hand through his hair.

They had her.

"Our father who art in heaven. Hallowed be they name." Natalie fought against the tears threatening to clog her throat, whispering under her shaky breaths. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us." One of her captors swore a little, pacing irritably. She couldn't see but she could hear his agitated footsteps. "Lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. Yours is the kingdom, yours is the glory, yours is the power for ever and ever, amen."

Taking a shaky breath she began the next step in her prayer. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women-" She was cut off in her prayer by a harsh strike to her face, tearing a scream from her throat.

"Stop fucking whining." A man's voice called before fingers gripped her jaw harshly. "Don't bother with prayers. Your god can't save you now."

He released her with more of a push than was necessary, knocking her head back. Despite the shaking of her body and the fear wracking her she continued her prayers in a whisper. "-and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus." She heard a soft hum and the filtered light through her blindfold was gone, sounds of confusion following. She stiffened, and the gap in her prayers was long enough for a hand to clasp around her mouth, muffling a scream as hot breath touched her ear.

"Close your eyes." The husky voice ordered gently, "Keep praying. Whatever you hear, don't move, and keep praying." The hand muffled a choked sob from her throat, and then it was gone. Leaving her a whimpering mess.

At the first sound of the fighting, she yelped in terror and started praying again through her sobs.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen." She cried, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. "Glory be to the father," She screamed as gunshots rang out but continued praying. "-and to the son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."

Next was the Our Father prayer again. This time she could hear less violence and less screams, but they were still coming. "Our Father who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread-" She choked as she heard steps starting to come towards her, stopping inches before her feet. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The blindfold was gently lifted from her face, but she kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, tears now able to flow freely down her reddened face. "And lead us not into temptation..."

"Natalie, open your eyes." That same husky voice urged softly. She shook her head, voice cracking on a sob.

"But deliver us from evil."

"Open your eyes, Nat."

She gasped at the familiar voice and opened her eyes, seeing a pair of familiar brown ones directly in front of hers, so close she could hardly see anything else.

"Amen." She blubbered, sobs beginning anew at seeing a familiar face, mixed with confusion and shock.

"Amen." He whispered back. Then he took a knife from his pocket and cut the binds holding her to the chair. "I'm gonna get you out of here, Nat." He soothed, rubbing her wrists where the circulation had been cut off. "I'm going to pick you up, and I want you to close your eyes and finish the rosary. Okay?" She nodded absently, shivering in place and hot tears sticking to her face.

Without another word, Matt's arms were around her, lifting her gently off the chair and collecting her against his body, tucking her head into his neck to shield her eyes from the massacre that he'd left behind to get to her.

All he could think about as he carried her away from the empty room was that he wished those men had suffered more. That they'd paid a heftier price for laying a hand on her. "This isn't going to feel great." Matt apologized in advance, nose wrinkling at the thought of putting her in any more pain.

"I don't understand." She whispered, wincing as the needle entered her skin again. "How are you doing this?"

"Used to patch up my dad when I was young."

"Not the sutures." She swallowed. "You act like you can..."

"See?" He finished, smiling faintly. "I can. In a way." The smile vanished into an expression of concentration as he continued stitching her gash back together.

"So you aren't blind?" She wondered aloud, still trying to process everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

"I am blind." He conceded, tying off the last suture. He frowned at her whimper of pain. "Sorry."

"You've probably had worse." She murmured around her swollen lip.

"You haven't." He countered, cutting the thread and smoothing a bandage over his stitching. "And.. I more meant I'm just sorry. Sorry for bringing you into this."

"I don't even know what this is, Matt." She sighed, pulling the borrowed shirt over her shoulders again. Normally, this situation would have her melting, but she found she wasn't entirely feeling romantic after the events of the day.

"I never thought i'd be putting anyone else at risk." He reiterated, brushing her hair back from her neck to lay on one shoulder. She shivered at the touch but found herself almost leaning into it.

"You can't have known this would happen." She insisted, refusing to look at him for fear she would do something stupid. "Random things happen."

"It wasn't random." The whisper was barely audible over the beating of her heart when she looked at him. There was a softness in his eyes that was so vulnerable, and something else there too that she hadn't seen yet. Something that looked like longing.

"What do you mean?"

"I talked about you." He murmured, stroking a single finger down from where her ear met her jaw to the line of her shoulder. "I was hurt. Someone was patching me up and I told her... About you."

"I don't understand-"

"Someone else heard. They heard when I talked about the color of your eyes. Your hair. The bistro by your apartment. Your name." He swallowed, a flush burning his neck. Something akin to embarrassment flaring in his stomach. "They used that information to find you. To hurt you."

Natalie swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, standing from the stool at his counter and turning to face him fully. "Why? Why would someone do that?"

"Because of how I talk about you." He spoke plainly, voice low and clear. "Because they put it together..." He paused a long moment before forcing the words out. "I care about you."

"I-" Her words were cutoff when Matt leaned into her space, hovering so close to her mouth but not crossing that final boundary.

"They knew hurting you would hurt me." He spoke almost against her mouth, and without thinking she gently pressed her lips to his, closing that last infinitesimal distance between them. He froze, just for a moment, then turned his head, breaking the kiss

The stood in awkward silence for a long moment, then he cleared his throat, stepping away. "You can... take the bedroom tonight. It's probably not safe for you to walk around right now. People could still be watching."

"Right." She nodded, wandering aimlessly past him towards the sliding door of his bedroom. His soft footsteps followed her, and she wished with everything in her they didn't. The rejection he'd given her stung, and she honestly wished she was in anyone else's' apartment right about then.

She tried to move into the bed without looking at him. But she only managed it for a moment before she stopped him at the door.

"Matt?" She hated the shakiness in her voice, but he turned at her call. "Will you stay with me?" She asked meekly, feeling weak and ashamed. "I just-"

"Yeah." He answered, saving them both from her awkward ramblings. Wordlessly, she scooted across the plush mattress and lifted the covers making room for him. Once they'd settled, she rolled over to her other side, looking away like she could pretend she couldn't feel the heat of him just less than a foot behind her.

It could have been minutes or hours later before she rolled over and opened her eyes to find Matt already watching her, something heartfelt and touching in his unseeing eyes.

"Stop looking at me like you want me." She begged in a whisper. "Matt, we both know you don't."

"I do." He muttered painfully, lifting a hand to touch her face. "That's the worst part."

"I don't believe you." She laughed humorlessly, closing her eyes sadly. "You don't have to say these things to spare my ego, Matthew. I know where I stand-" She was broken off when suddenly Matt was no longer a semi-appropriate distance away, but rather right against her, lips hovering over hers in a promise of a kiss. Without thinking she lifted a hand slowly to the back of his neck and pulled him that last millimeter, their lips meeting softly in the middle.

Matt started the kiss gentle, but it didn't stay that way, only seconds later she felt his tongue just brushing the seam of her mouth, asking permission to enter. She granted it on a gasp when his arm wrapped around her waist, gently bringing her in closer until they were touching from shoulder to knee.

The kiss broke suddenly, leaving them both taking in air, breath fanning across each others' faces.

"Believe me yet?" Matt nearly growled, moving his hand from her waist to her hair to tangle his fingers in it.

"I could do with some convincing." She countered, with only a little uncertainty in her voice. She thought she saw his lips turn up in the beginning of a smile before they were pressed against hers.

a/n: WHEW this one was a marathon to write. I am so tired right now but the second part of this scene will be included in the beginning of the next installment, including a lot more soft Mattalie content and the aftermath of the attack.

as always this story is dedicated to @abucketofweird and I'm extending it to @sunflowersandsapphires as well. You guys have been amazing supporters and none of this would be written let alone posted without you both.

I'm unsure if starting a tag list is a good idea. If anyone would be interested in that let me know. I've never done this crap before.

If you guys are liking this story please consider leaving a note or following for more it really means a lot. I'm gonna try and keep updating this semi-regularly but I make no promises because I'm chronically ill and in college. So nothing is certain lol.

Thanks again,

-Sybil :)

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x you

26 notes · View notes

topazadine · 5 months ago

Text

Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @the-golden-comet for the tag! I enjoyed reading your answers, especially the part about your characters!

Alright, here goes.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I wrote my first story at age 7, started my first book at age 12 (no you can't read it, it's terrible) and published my first poem at age 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Despite writing fantasy, I actually don't read much of it myself. My undergrad career focused most on British literature (specializing in Victorian lit) so that's what I'm most familiar with and what I like the most.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I don't really seek to emulate anyone because I have my own unique voice, and I don't really get compared to anyone else either. If you have suggestions of what I might sound like, fire away lmao, because I don't really know who I emulate. However, I take a lot of inspiration from Willa Cather for atmosphere and Emile Zola for realism.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I exclusively write at my desk. My setup looks like this:

I need my little guys and my Emotional Support Stuffed Cow (her name is Bluebell the Moobell because she has a little bell in her). Note the knitting I'm procrastinating on at the bottom right lmao.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Funnily enough, I often get inspiration from my day job as an SEO writer, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the types of stuff I write. Sometimes I'll just be hammering away at a Construction Accident Personal Injury Lawyer page and it strikes me that I need to kill one of my characters.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Sort of. I have this thing I do where I like to mentally walk through buildings I used to visit as a relaxation activity, like my childhood elementary school, so that's given me a good memory of how places are laid out. As for actual settings? No, most of those are just made up of pictures I've seen of different places that I've never visited.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Some of my recurring themes include: Degradation/transformation of memory Struggling against fate/the unknowability of fate Found family Abusive relationships Moral relativism Satisficing (choosing between multiple suboptimal outcomes to pick the least harmful option) None of them surprise me; I recognize where they come from. For example, my obsession with the degradation and transformation of memory comes from my own struggles with dissociative amnesia, and my interest in satisficing comes from my International Relations degree. My concerns about the unknowability of fate come from the fact that I had a premonition that I'd die of a heart attack at 42. And I'm 32 right now. You can imagine that this influences my process lmao.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

As a lesbian, I am not ashamed to say that I am deeply and passionately horny for Uileac (who you can meet in "Cachaille" or read about in 9 Years Yearning). Like how can you not go crazy for a man who thinks this is the perfect declaration of love?

He's so scary and so devoted, yet also very chill and laid-back? And funny? And athletic? And protective of his lil sis? He's just ... (screams into pillow)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Ono. He's a Sinan royal guard who is just so sweet but also kinda dumb.

There's a scene where he has to ask Cerie what kind of menstrual products she needs for their trip, which is both mortifying and really adorable. He's just a really gentle and nice guy who I think would get along with damn near everyone.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

I think Mordrek would scare the absolute shit out of me ngl. Like ... bro just ... does this kind of shit on the regular

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Uileac, Orrinir, and Ono were heavily inspired by Uguisumaru, Ookanehira, and Omokage from Touken Ranbu and I don't apologize for that. Obviously they are a bit different, but their personalities are quite similar. Cerie was developed from a roleplay where I was playing as Uguisumaru's made-up sister, so that's why she's Uileac's sister in Poesyverse. Haniya, Cerie's love interest, was made up by using personality testing and astrology to come up with Cerie's Perfect Match. No one knows where Mordrek came from. He just kinda showed up.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

They all have daddy issues. Every single fucking one of them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

All the art I have for my characters was made with AI before I realized AI was absolute garbage shit, so I'm not showing it, but I did commission a painting of Cerie from the amazing artist Caleb over on Twitter:

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

For me, that's kind of like asking why a bird sings. It's just what I do and what I have always done.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Definitely when someone says that my writing helped them or resonated with them. My writing gives me catharsis and it feels really good when other people say they got that same sense of catharsis.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As someone who takes risks that pay off.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Depicting trauma without being melodramatic.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People have told me they like how meticulous and carefully set up my stories are without infodumping or being boring. They appreciate the work that goes into planning things, how it all pays off in the end and comes together nicely without plot holes.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I think I've come a long way and continue to improve, which is what is most important.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The last Kauaʻi ʻ��ʻō still sang until the end. So yes.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write whatever the hell I feel like when I feel like it. People tend to like it, but if they don't, I enjoyed making it anyway.

Open tag!

#writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing community #writing game #oc game #oc character #my ocs #tag game #tagging game #tag meme #my writing #literature #writeblr #writerscommunity

11 notes · View notes

loveroftoomanyfandoms · 2 years ago

Text

Salvation, Chapter 1 - Reader:

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Reader is walking home one evening and gets attacked in an alleyway... until the Devil of Hell's Kitchen himself comes to her rescue. After passing out during the ordeal, she wakes up in the apartment of one Matthew Murdock, a kind and handsome lawyer who treats her injuries. As she and Matt get to know each other and grow closer, will someone from Reader's past tear their happiness apart?

Warnings/Tags: Dual PoV, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Past Domestic Violence, Stalking, Kidnapping (Y'all, seriously, please mind the tags)

Word Count: ~31k total

A/N: Further explaining the warnings here:

--Reader is the victim of an attempted sexual assault

--Reader is also the victim of past domestic violence from an OMC and is in hiding; this will play a major part of the story later on.

I knew I should've just waited and gone to the market tomorrow, Y/F/N Y/L/N thought as she walked down the dimly-lit streets of Hell's Kitchen. She had had the unsettling feeling that she was being followed for several blocks now, and the feeling was getting stronger.

Before Y/N could grab her pepper spray out of her bag, a hulking brute of a man wearing a baseball cap and a hoodie pulled her into a darkened alleyway and pressed her front up against a brick wall.

A huge hand covered her mouth while a knife pressed against the side of her throat. "You say one word and I'll kill you immediately," a menacing voice growled. "Understand?"

Y/N nodded, regretting not taking the self-defense lessons she had promised herself that she would when she first moved to New York.

"That's a good girl," her assailant cooed. "Don't worry, I'll make this nice and easy for ya."

Y/N whimpered as he trailed the knife down her neck, his nose following. "I can smell your fear… so intoxicating."

He slid the knife further down, eventually stopping at the waistband of Y/N’s pants. "Let's see what's under these, shall we?"

Suddenly there was a slight noise at the other end of the alley.

As her attacker leaned back and turned to investigate, Y/N elbowed him in the stomach and broke free… but she wasn't fast enough.

She cried out in pain as he grabbed her by her arm and threw her to the ground. "Fucking bitch," he growled, then kicked her several times in the ribs. "You're gonna pay for that."

He knelt down and straddled her, grabbed her arms, and held them over her head, pinning them down with one hand while unbuckling his belt with the other. "I was gonna draw it out, but now it looks like I gotta teach you a fucking lesson."

"Fuck you," Y/N spat.

Her assailant punched her in the face, knocking Y/N's head back against the dirty concrete and causing her to see stars.

Suddenly the weight of her attacker disappeared.

Y/N briefly heard sounds of a scuffle, then there was silence.

She rolled over and spotted metal glinting in the pale moonlight -- the knife that her assailant had dropped when she had elbowed him.

She reached out and grabbed it as the sound of footsteps neared, struggling to sit up once she had it in her possession.

She looked up and gasped. Standing in front of her was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Y/N scrambled backwards, hissing out a breath as her back hit the wall.

She had heard reports and seen grainy stills from security footage of the Devil, but he was even more fearsome in person.

She held the knife out in front of her protectively, her heart racing. I may go down, she thought, but it damn well won't be without a fight.

The masked man crouched down next to her -- just outside of stabbing range, she noted -- and raised his gloved hands in a non-threatening manner. "It's okay," he said. "That guy won't be bothering you anymore.

Y/N looked over to where her assailant lay motionless on the ground. "Did you kill him ?" she hissed.

The Devil shook his head. "No, he's just unconscious. The police will pick him up soon. He's already wanted in three other attacks."

He started to lower his hands. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. Now, can you put the knife down for me?"

Realizing that the Devil probably hadn't saved her from her attacker just to attack her himself, Y/N set the knife down.

The masked man began to help her up. "Come on, I've got to get you to a hospital."

Y/N gasped from the pain, a hand flying to her side as she began to feel dizzy. "No, no hospitals," she managed to get out. "He'll find me, I can't let him find me."

"Who 'll find you?" the Devil asked. "The guy who attacked you tonight?"

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it. "No, not him. I can't though. Please, no."

"Okay, okay, no hospital," the Devil agreed. "But who can't you let find you? Who are you hiding from?"

Before Y/N could respond everything faded to black.

"Y/N… Come out, come out, wherever you are," his voice said softly, the sing-song tone sending chills down Y/N's spine. "You know what happens when you run from me. You'll just make it worse for yourself."

Y/N trembled as his footsteps got closer to the closet where she hid. She had been so careful, how had he figured out where she was?

"Come on, babe," his voice continued, still calm but now laced with an edge of irritation. "I'm sorry. I just want to talk."

His footsteps stopped in front of the closet.

Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to keep her sobs at bay until his footsteps eventually receded.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was a burst of light as the door was thrown open. A hand reached in and grabbed Y/N by a fistful of her hair, dragging her out of the closet.

Y/N awoke with a gasp and sat straight up, crying out in pain before quickly lying back down. Nightmare. Just a nightmare.

She sat up slower, hissing at the discomfort in her side. Well, at least that part was… Apparently I really did get attacked tonight.

She looked around. She was lying on a sofa in an unfamiliar, dimly-lit room. Where am I?

A bit of further examination revealed that she was in a very sparsely-decorated apartment. There were no photos, no artwork, nothing to indicate anything about the owner aside from a crucifix affixed above the front door.

"Oh good, you're awake," an unfamiliar voice said.

Y/N turned towards the voice, startled.

A man wearing a dark red Henley, black sweatpants, and red sunglasses stood across the room from her. In his hands were medical supplies.

Who the hell wears sunglasses indoors? Y/N thought. "Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?"

"It's okay, miss," the man replied. "I won't hurt you. Do you remember what happened? You took quite a bump on the head in addition to your other injuries."

Y/N nodded. "I was walking home, and this man pulled me into an alley and tried to-- but then there was this other man, and he… he saved me."

The man nodded. "My name is Matthew Murdock. I'm an acquaintance of the man who helped you. He brought you here to my apartment since you seemed pretty insistent that he not bring you to a hospital."

He gestured with the medical supplies. "May I?"

Y/N let out a long breath, wincing at the pain in her side. "Yeah, okay."

Matthew slowly approached her and set the supplies down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, arranging them neatly before sitting down next to them.

He gestured to her side. "I need to make sure your ribs aren't broken before I tend to anything else."

Y/N nodded. "Okay."

Matthew raised the side of her shirt just high enough to expose her ribs but still keep her modesty. "Here, hold this for me."

Y/N held her shirt up while Matthew gently felt around her ribcage.

"Are you a doctor?" Y/N asked.

Matthew shook his head with a wry grin. "No, I'm an attorney. I just have lots of experience patching people up."

Y/N thought that he was going to leave it at that, but then he added, "My dad was a boxer, used to come home with different injuries, including the occasional cracked or broken rib. I learned how to diagnose them."

He sat back. "Okay, so good news and bad news. Good news is that I don't think any of your ribs are broken. Bad news though is that they are bruised, so you might want to take it easy for a few days. You don't want to aggravate them further."

Y/N nodded. "So a glass of Chardonnay and Epsom salt bath it is, got it."

Matthew frowned. "You sound like you're pretty used to that type of medical treatment."

Shit, I said too much. Y/N shrugged. "Just have had my share of sore muscles, that's all."

Matthew studied her for a few moments before he picked up an alcohol wipe and opened it, then began to gently dab at a cut on her forehead.

While he was occupied with opening a bandage and applying some antibiotic ointment to it, Y/N took the opportunity to examine him further.

He was ruggedly handsome -- dark hair that was freshly wet from the shower, 5 o'clock shadow on his strong, square jaw, broad shoulders that filled out his Henley just this side of too tight… Shit, he's really hot.

"Y/N," she blurted.

Matthew paused just as he was sticking the bandage to Y/N's forehead, his head tilting to the side in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I just realized that I haven't told you my name," Y/N clarified. "It's Y/N."

Matthew smoothed the bandage down. "Well then, it's nice to meet you, Y/N," he replied, "although I am sorry that it's under these circumstances."

He grabbed another alcohol wipe and began to clean the cut on Y/N's cheek. "So would you mind telling me why you refused to go to a hospital?"

Y/N hesitated. On the one hand, Matthew really did seem trustworthy. On the other…

She let out a sigh. "Mr. Murdock --"

"Matt, please."

"Matt , I… I can't." If word of where she was got back to him , she'd be dead for sure.

Matt was silent for a few moments as he finished cleaning Y/N's cut and affixing a bandage over it. "Do you have any change on you?" he finally asked. "Penny, quarter, whatever?"

"Oh, shit, my purse, I had it in the alley." Y/N began to panic. If someone found her ID and turned it in to the police--

"It's okay, it's here. Let me get it for you." Matt stood and moved over to the kitchen, where Y/N's bag sat on the counter.

Y/N noticed a long white cane situated against the door-frame of the front door. So that explains the lack of decor and the sunglasses indoors, she thought. He's blind.

Matt retrieved her bag and brought it to her. "I didn't go through it," he said. "In case you were wondering."

Y/N rummaged through for her wallet and pulled out a nickel. "Will a nickel work?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

Y/N handed it to him. "What do you need that for?"

Matt pocketed the nickel. "That was my retainer. Now everything you tell me is confidential information covered under attorney-client privilege."

He sat down again, this time next to Y/N instead of across from her. "Now, will you tell me why you insisted on not going to a hospital?"

Y/N bit her lip. "I just don't like hospitals?"

Matt huffed out a soft chuckle. "You know, part of what makes me such a good attorney is that I can always tell when someone's lying to me, but even if I couldn't I'm not sure I'd have believed you."

Y/N shook her head with a wry smile. "Yeah, I wouldn't have believed me either honestly."

She looked away and let out a shaky breath. "Ok, well, about 2 years ago I met this guy," she began. "He was amazing-- successful, sweet, attentive -- and I immediately fell for him.

"We moved in together after about 6 months together and everything was fine at first, but then my boyfriend lost his job and was having trouble finding another one -- or so he said."

Y/N had felt so stupid -- she had believed Colin when he had said that he was out job hunting when in actuality he had been sitting on his ass at home all day drinking and playing video games.

"Anyway, money was tight so we began to have to cut back on a lot of things. My boyfriend liked to go to the bar with his buddies so I asked him to stop going out for a while until he found another job and we got caught up on bills." Y/N gave a mirthless laugh. "He said that I should get a second job instead, because I was spending all of 'our' hard-earned money on 'unnecessary' things -- like, you know, food and rent."

She shook her head. "I told him that at least I was working and that the very least he could do while he was sitting at home all day was to help around the house some, instead of leaving his shit everywhere and expecting me to pick it up. Well, he didn't really like that… He hit me for the first time that night."

She heard Matt suck in a breath, but he remained silent.

"He left after that," she continued, "presumably to go meet his friends -- but he came home later that night and said that he was sorry, swore it would never happen again, said that he loved me and was just stressed out from job hunting, but that one of his friends had a lead on a job that sounded promising and that everything would be okay."

She finally looked up at Matt, whose jaw was visibly clenched.

"He eventually did get another job, but he didn't keep it for long. Luckily I had gotten a promotion at work, and with that came enough of a raise to at least keep us afloat. My boyfriend started drinking more and became violent more often than not. He always apologized the next day and would swear that it'd never happen again… until it inevitably did."

She swallowed. She had never admitted to anyone the abuse she had suffered at Colin's hands. At first he had been careful, only leaving bruises where no one could see them, then as things had gotten worse and his temper had gotten more volatile, Y/N had begun wearing long sleeves and excusing the injuries she couldn't cover up with makeup as clumsiness. "God, you must think I'm so stupid for believing him, for staying with him for so long..."

Matt sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't think you're stupid at all. Abusers will use whatever tactics they can to keep their victims from leaving them -- apologies, gaslighting, manipulation, threats..."

Y/N nodded, then her voice dropped down to a whisper. "He said that he would kill me if I ever tried to leave him."

"So what happened?"

"One day my boyfriend came home to find me packing for a last-minute work trip and accused me of sleeping with my boss -- who wasn't even going on that trip, by the way, which is why he was sending me in his place. Needless to say, the trip was cancelled altogether because I wound up in the hospital with a broken arm after I 'tripped and fell down the stairs'."

She swallowed. "I figured he would eventually kill me either way, so I started doing some extra freelance work on the side in secret and managed to hide enough money to get away without him knowing, and one day while my boyfriend was at the bar I put in my resignation at work and…" Y/N shrugged even though she knew Matt couldn't see it. "...I just left.

"I drove for a few days, staying at motels that would accept cash and wouldn't require an ID, then sold my car, ditched my phone number for a prepaid one, and made my way here to New York. My mom's step aunt had left me a brownstone that Colin never knew about and I had never got around to switching the utilities out of her name. I work as a freelance writer and editor under a pseudonym, only take cash or Paypal as payment, and use a P.O. box in Jersey as my mailing address, so no bank account, no credit cards…" She trailed off.

Matt nodded in understanding. "No paper trail."

"Exactly." Y/N was silent for a few moments. "So you said you know the man who rescued me?"

Matt pursed his lips. "In passing."

"Next time you see him, tell him thank you for me, okay? If he hadn't come along--" Y/N's breath hitched and her eyes filled with tears, the events of the evening finally hitting her.

Matt put a gentle hand on her arm. "Hey, it's okay… you're okay. You're safe now, I promise."

Y/N wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sure the last thing you expected tonight was to have some random stranger crying on your couch."

Matt shook his head with a soft smile. "You're right. They're usually crying in my office."

Shit . "Oh my god, that's right, you probably have work tomorrow and I'm keeping you up. I'm so sorry, I should go." Y/N stood and grabbed her purse.

Matt stood as well. "Wait, here, let me at least get you a cab. You shouldn't walk home this late, especially in your condition."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. "You're right. Thank you, I appreciate it."

Matt walked over to the counter and picked up his phone, pressing a few buttons then speaking softly to the person on the other end.

He hung up. "A cab will be here in a few minutes. And one more thing…" Matt moved over to a coat rack and grabbed a peacoat. "I can probably safely assume that your clothes are in questionable condition, so you might want to wear this over them so your cab driver doesn't ask questions."

Y/N nodded. "Thank you."

Matt cocked his head. "The cab is a couple of blocks away. You should head down now."

Y/N blinked in surprise. How does he know that? "Oh, okay."

She put the coat on. "Thank you again, and be sure to thank the man who rescued me for me too."

Matt nodded. "I will. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Matt."

Y/N headed downstairs, where sure enough, a taxi was pulling up to the curb.

She gave the driver her address and sat back, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.

The cab driver gave her a few glances in the mirror but must've been able to tell that Y/N wasn't in the mood for conversation, because he didn't try to engage her, for which Y/N was grateful.

Once the cab had pulled up to her brownstone, Y/N paid the driver and headed inside, making doubly sure that the door was both locked and deadbolted. It wasn't like she had expected anyone to have followed her home, but her attack had made her flash back to her days with Colin and she was still anxious and jumpy at every little noise.

She took Matt's coat off and put it on her coat rack, then grimaced as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It wasn't the worst she had ever looked -- far from it, in fact -- but still... Thank goodness Matt loaned me his coat. I probably would've frightened the taxi driver.

She went to her kitchen and poured herself a nice big glass of wine, then headed upstairs to soak in a hot, Epsom salt-infused bath.

Once the water had cooled to an uncomfortable level she got out of the tub and carefully changed into a pair of silk pajamas before climbing into bed, exhausted from the evening's events. I should get Matt's coat back to him soon.

And speaking of Matt…

She couldn't even imagine the conversation that had gone on between him and her masked savior when the latter had shown up at Matt's apartment with an unconscious Y/N, but she had been grateful that both of them had come to her aid. The Devil had been kind and caring -- nothing like the media had portrayed him -- and Matt had been so gentle while he was treating her wounds and had listened to her story without judgement.

Her mind drifted to the kind, handsome lawyer. I wonder if Matt's single…

She sighed and shook her head. Okay Florence Nightingale, chill out. First of all, he was just being nice and helping someone in need. Second of all… he probably does have a girlfriend. And finally, even if he didn't he wouldn't want someone like you, so there's no point in even going there. Just give the man his coat back and move on. Wait, but how? I don't have his number and there's no way I'm going to remember where he lives.

She drained what remained of her glass of wine and pulled her laptop over to her. Matthew Murdock attorney NYC, she typed into Google.

The first result was for a firm, Nelson and Murdock. The website was simple, with the main page containing a photo of Matt and a shaggy-haired blonde man proudly standing in front of a plaque reading Nelson and Murdock , and tabs with information about the firm and the types of law they practiced and their contact information. Y/N made note of the address and put her laptop away, wincing as she stretched too far and her side pulled again. Fucking OW.

She tucked her body pillow to her side to keep from rolling over too much and settled in to try to get some rest.

#lotmf writes #Salvation Masterlist #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x yn

54 notes · View notes

ao3feed-asoryuu · 2 months ago

Text

Behind Every Gay Lawyer is Several Other Gay Lawyers Who Are Haunting Them

by Sciencelings From the moment her brain could form memories, Phoenix had always been haunted. While most would find this frightening, Phoenix found it comforting, not everyone has a couple of their great great (great) grandparents watching over them. It was only a matter of time until she ran into the Feys. AKA Phoenix gets babysat and is generally haunted by the spirits of Ryunosuke Naruhodo and Kazuma Asogi, they make friends with Mia and despite what Maya thinks, Phoenix knows that she wasn't meant to be a spirit medium. Words: 8321, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Feynix-Femnix AU Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney, 大逆転裁判 | Dai Gyakuten Saiban | The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, Gen, Multi Characters: Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Asougi Kazuma, Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Yahari Masashi | Larry Butz, Ayasato Chihiro | Mia Fey, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey, Ayasato Harumi | Pearl Fey, Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, Sister Bikini (Gyakuten Saiban), Miyanagi Chinami | Dahlia Hawthorne, Ayame | Iris (Gyakuten Saiban), Ayasato Maiko | Misty Fey, Godot (Gyakuten Saiban), Kaminogi Souryuu | Diego Armando Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Asougi Kazuma/Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Chihiro | Mia Fey & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Harumi | Pearl Fey & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Chihiro | Mia Fey & Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright & Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Asougi Kazuma & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Larry Butz & Miles Edgeworth & Phoenix Wright, Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright Additional Tags: Female Phoenix Wright, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Female Miles Edgeworth, Female Larry Butz, Trans Female Character, Trans Miles Edgeworth, Trans Larry Butz, POV Phoenix Wright, mostly... Misty gets a couple paragraphs though, POV Third Person, Pre-Relationship, for narumitsu (it's not the focus but there are Moments), Bisexual Disaster Phoenix Wright, BAMF Phoenix Wright, Bisexual Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Suicide, what can be expected but also a surprise if you squint, Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2: Naruhodou Ryuunosuke no Kakugo | The Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve Spoilers, Foster Kid Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright gets Adopted by the Feys, Ghosts, Phoenix Wright Sees Ghosts, Haunting, Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Fake Character Death, Quote: Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death (Gyakuten Saiban), Past Dahlia Hawthorne/Phoenix Wright, Past Iris/Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright has Heterochromia and Lip Scars, Demon Dahlia Hawthorne (kind of), Phoenix Wright Has ADHD, Hair Brushing but make it Homoerotic, spiritual awakening, Maya Fey and Phoenix Wright are Siblings, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Phoenix's Trip into Corpse Destroyer River, Near Death Experiences, Grief/Mourning, Godot Kinda Sucks (Misogyny), Established Asougi Kazuma/Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Kazuma calls Phoenix 'Little Dragon', references to the anime, Demonic Possession, Dahlia Hawthorne is Scary, Phoenix and his suspiciously nonexistent family via https://ift.tt/IYuFRZL

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #fanfiction #fics #fic #ryuaso #ryuuaso #asoryuu #asoryu #asouryuu #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #tgaa #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs

2 notes · View notes

ausetkmt · 7 months ago

Video

youtube

You Gotta Tell Diddy No!!

Diddy files motion to dismiss allegations that he raped 17-year-old

(NewsNation) —Embattled music producer Sean “Diddy” Combs has filed a motion to dismiss a lawsuit accusing him and a Bad Boy Records music executive of sexually assaulting a 17-year-old in 2003.

Lawyers for Combs’ called the allegations “an entirely false and hideous claim” and that the lawsuit was a “stunt” in their motion obtained by NewsNation. Lawyers also stated that the lawsuit passed the legal time to bring such claims.

What are the allegations in the lawsuit?

The motion to dismiss comes in response to a federal civil suit filed in December by a woman under the “Jane Doe” pseudonym who alleged that Combs, Bad Boy Records executive Harvey Pierre and a third “assailant” gang raped her when she was 17 after trafficking her across state lines in 2003.

Doe said that she met Pierre as a junior in high school when he approached her at a lounge in Detroit near her home.

Pierre and Combs convinced the then-teen to take a private jet with them and a third person to Combs’ recording studio in New York City.

That’s where they drugged her and then began taking turns raping her, she alleged.

Where is Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs?

“As the night wore on, the 17-year old Ms. Doe became more and more inebriated, eventually to the point that she could not possibly have consented to having sex with anyone, much less someone twice her age,” her lawsuit stated.

In her lawsuit, Doe stated that she “suffered significant emotional distress and feelings of shame that have plagued her life and personal relationships for 20 years” as a result of the alleged assault.

What was Diddy’s response?

Combs’ motion stated that he and his companies” categorically deny Plaintiff’s decades-old tale against them, which has already caused incalculable damage to the reputations and business standing of the Combs Defendants, even before any evidence has been presented.”

Combs’ lawyer, Jonathan Davis asked a judge to dismiss the lawsuit with prejudice, so it cannot be brought again, “to protect the Combs Defendants from further reputational injury and before more party and judicial resources are squandered.”

In the motion, Davis stated that Doe “cannot allege what day or time of year the alleged incident occurred, yet purports to miraculously recall the most prurient details with specificity.”

The motion also stated that the claim is “time-barred” because it was filed under New York City’s Gender-Motivated Violence Protection Law, which has a seven-year statute of limitations.

But lawyers for Doe say their client’s claims are valid.

“At this point, no one should take anything ‘Diddy’ or his lawyers say seriously. The motion is just a desperate attempt by Combs to avoid accountability for Ms. Doe’s allegations of gang rape and sexual assault. It won’t work,” they said in a statement, according to People.

What other allegations is he facing?

The music producer has been slapped with five civil suits in the last six months, each containing a multitude of disturbing accusations including abuse and sexual assault by multiple victims spanning over 30 years.

A number of his accusers say they were teens when they were allegedly assaulted by him. Several attest in their lawsuits he had rage-filled violent tendencies.

Many stem from the Adult Survivors Act, a New York law that creates a one-year window for victims 18 or over to bring cases in the state after any statutes of limitations have expired.

Singer Casandra “Cassie” Ventura, who had been in a decadelong relationship with Combs in the early 2000s, filed a lawsuit in New York federal court last November alleging sex trafficking, human trafficking, sexual battery, sexual assault and gender-motivated violence, among other causes of action.

Homeland Security Investigation agents are seen at the entrance of US producer and musician Sean “Diddy” Combs’s home at Star Island in Miami Beach on March 25, 2024. Homes belonging to Sean “Diddy” Combs were being raided by federal agents, media reported on March 25, with the US hip hop mogul at the center of sex trafficking and sex assault lawsuits

In other lawsuits, a woman said Combs filmed his sexual assault on her and later used it as “revenge porn” when she was a student at Syracuse University.

Combs has denied all allegations.

In her filing, the attorney representing Doe said that “seeing two other women bravely speak out against Mr. Combs and Mr. Pierre, respectively, gave Ms. Doe the confidence to tell her story as well.”

Two homes belonging to Combs were raided by federal investigators in March.

While federal authorities have given sparse public comment as to what prompted the raids, NewsNation affiliate WPIX reported that it was part of an ongoing sex trafficking investigation.

If you or someone you know needs help, please call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800-656-4673.

#youtube #Diddy files motion to dismiss allegations that he raped 17-year-old #diddy #sex trafficking #sean diddy combs #you gotta tell diddy no #teen trafficked from Detroit on diddy's private jet #herve pierre

3 notes · View notes

yourmomxx · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

“Alright, everybody! Wake up! Time to get ready for school!”

Cameron Nolan dutifully rushed through the house and knocked on every still closed bedroom door available. For effect, he opened them at the same time and let some of the light stream in.

Entering his own bedroom, his husband was still lying in bed, turned to the other side.

“Mnh-nh,” he grumbled when Cameron tried shaking him awake.

“Yes-nh,” he softly coaxed. “Come on, get up. You’ve gotta set a good example. Also, the kids need breakfast.”

“You make breakfast,” Dylan grumbled, but he threw back the covers and sat up, nevertheless.

Cameron laughed softly. “Yeah, right, after that pancake-disaster when we were still dating?”

“It’s offensive you would even call what you made pancakes,” Dylan retorted, and pressed a sweet good morning-kiss to his husband’s lips.

“See?” Cameron grinned, “That’s why you’re the cooking man in this relationship.”

“Mhm. And what man does that make you?” Dylan asked, as he shuffled to their bathroom. He squinted at the lights blinding his eyes.

“The successful lawyer husband that will probably have to bail you out of jail at some point in our relationship.” Cameron came up behind Dylan as he brushed his teeth and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist.

“Also, your arm candy at times.”

Dylan leaned forward and spit into the sink. He turned in Cameron’s arms and grinned at him. “That’s more like it.” Cameron smiled, and they both met in a loving peck.

“Alright, now I’m gonna go and make some edible breakfast for our kids.” Dylan wiggled out of Cameron’s arms. “Could you get Jake, please?”

Cameron pouted. “But I need to get ready!”

Dylan threw him a look. “Babe, you just need to get him awake and carry him downstairs. You’ll manage.” Another peck as he passed him by.

“Love you, you’re the best!”

Cameron groaned.

The Nolan Residence might be one of the most contradictory buildings in all of Westport. On one hand, the house included half a dozen different leisure spaces, like a cinema hall, pools for different occasions and moods, and hell, a small museum with collectibles from all over the world – most of them brought home by Dylan.

On the other hand, and here comes the controversy, they cooked their own meals. Crazy, right? In a town like Westport, it was. Why would you even have money if not to pay people to do the most basic tasks for you?

No, one of the first things that Dylan Nolan had established when the family first moved here, was that they would indeed not just lazily lay around and do nothing but look pretty.

Dylan Nolan liked cooking; he loved it. He caved, though, on one point, when they would have guests over, they would indeed hire a personal chef. Too much stress, Cameron had argued. It was a compromise.

Just as Dylan prepped some neatly cut strawberries next to the fresh waffles, footsteps neared the kitchen, and his daughter stood next to him. “Morning, Dad!” She greeted, and muttered a “Thanks” after he carefully placed the plate of waffles in her hand.

“Alright, that’s one,” Dylan counted, when she sat down at the table. Just then, Cameron walked in, a babbling two-year-old in his arms.

“Here you go, number two,” he said, and placed tiny Jake in his highchair opposite his sister.

Dylan also positioned a much smaller portion waffles in front of the toddler, cut in easily accessible pieces.

“Who’s taking them to school today?” He asked his husband, who had changed his clothes into an elegant suit.

“Can’t,” Cameron answered, “Some couple is suing their housemaiden because she made their morning coffee too hot. Say it was an attempt at ‘severe or even fatal injuries’.” He shrugged.

“You know, sometimes I ask myself why we moved to Westport,” Dylan remarked, “And then you tell me about court cases like this, and that makes me remember.”

Cameron smiled and pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “As soon as I see the check, I stop asking any sort of questions, babe, believe me.”

Dylan tilted his head, agreeing, and frowned. “Alright, we have kids one, two – where’s number three?”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode over to the bottom of the staircase and shouted, “Cooper! Come down, breakfast’s ready!”

“Well, alright then.” Cameron leaned over and pressed a kiss into each of his children’s hair. “Have a good day at school today, sweetheart, have fun.”

“Thanks, Papa!” Kendra spoke. “You too, at work.”

“Will do ma’am.” And with a last kiss goodbye to his husband’s lips, Cameron Nolan was out the door.

“Papa!” Jake babbled after him from his seat.

Dylan put his hands on his hips and threw a look on his watch. “Samira should be here any minute to watch over Jake while we’re away. Kendra, are you all ready for school?”

The young girl nodded her head, and swallowed her last bite of waffles. Dylan raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Homework packed, Teeth brushed, two matching socks?” He added. Kendra rolled her eyes.

“Dad, I’m twelve!”, she complained. “You don’t have to check me every morning.”

Dylan lifted his hands in defense. “I’m just saying. It’s nothing that didn’t happen before.”

Kendra groaned but jumped off the chair and put her plate in the open dishwasher anyways.

“Alright, go put on your shoes.” Another glance at the watch. “Looks like your brother is coming with us, Samira is late. And where the hell is- Cooper!” He yelled again, this time before he even reached the staircase.

“Cooper Bradford! Our estate is like five minutes farther from the school than yours, and I don’t wanna be late! I really do not need to have that talk with Principal Ablin again! That guy makes me want to smash all my eardrums in with a plastic fork.”

“But Dad, you only have two eardrums.”

“I know sweetheart, it’s just a thing that Daddy says. Cooper!”

“I’m here, I’m here!” The thumping footsteps announced Cooper’s arrival before Dylan could see him.

“Finally! Boy, what took you so long?”

“I’m sorry, but my hair wouldn’t blow-dry right.” Cooper apologized, emphasizing his statement while fixing a loose strand. “Beauty like this takes time.”

Whatever you think of doing, don’t do it, Dylan reminded himself. “Alright, whatever. Waffles are over there, take some and then-“ Another glance at the watch. “Nope, forget it, you’re gonna have to eat the waffles in the car. Now, put on your shoes!”

Cooper rushed to the kitchen isle, snatched himself two waffles, and then sped to his sneakers. Dylan grabbed the car keys from the shelf, lifted Jake into his arms and walked out the door. In the time it took Kendra and Cooper to finally leave the house, he had already secured his youngest son in his car seat.

“Kids, you have to squeeze in the back. And-- uh-uh.” Dylan blocked Cooper’s way with his body and raised his eyebrows. “I warn you, Cooper Bradford,” he said. “One crumb of that thing-“ he pointed at the waffle, “- in my car, and you clean it. You understand?”

Cooper nodded eagerly. Maybe a bit scared.

Good.

When Dylan stepped away, the boy made a show of entering the car extra carefully.

“Alright, people! Everyone’s seatbelts fastened?” Dylan asked after he, too, sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yes.” Came the unison answer from the back. At 8:05, the car finally left the driveway.

Bringing the kids to school was, by no means, as terrible as it could be. Both Kendra and Cooper had passed the age where he had to escort them to the doors, and had not yet reached the age where they would be embarrassed to be seen with their parent – or, in Cooper’s case, a guardian.

“Alright guys, have a great day at school!”

“Thanks, Dad!” “Thanks, Dylan! Goodbye!” Both car doors slammed shut, and only when he saw Kendra and Cooper take their places between their friends, he looked at Jake through the rearview mirror.

“Alright buddy, and what are we going to do now?” The loud honking of a car horn sounded over his youngest son’s silence.

“Alright, I’m going, Jesus Christ!” Dylan yelled back, at no one that could hear him, and made his way out of the line. “Be glad that my kid’s in the car with me, otherwise I’d swear at you.”

They turned out to run some errands. Cameron had wanted to change the curtains for a while, and Dylan took Jake with him to look at different samples of fabric and color. Jake was a big help, obviously, babbling at some beige tones, and pointing at a blue one with stripes yelling, “Papa!”.

Dylan sent his husband a picture of the fabric with the caption

Your son recognizes you by your tie patterns, by the way

When they returned home, Samira was there. She apologized a thousand times for being late, and Dylan told her that it better not happen again, because by God, this wasn’t the first time she had shown up late. And he couldn’t keep an unreliable babysitter hired, it’s not like there was a guarantee that he was always able to watch over Jake, that’s the exact reason she was here. Also, he wouldn’t say that the salary he paid was bad for the job she did.

Around the time Dylan wanted to get lunch started, his phone started ringing. It was Kendra on the other end of the line.

One of their teachers got sick, so her and Cooper got to go home earlier.

Amazing.

Don’t judge for that lack of excitement.

So, he put lunch on hold, told Samira to keep a close eye on Jake, and rushed to the car, which he then rushed to Westport Unified.

Like very sophisticated and well-behaved children, Kendra and Cooper were patiently waiting next to the parking spot when he pulled up and got in the car. Unlike very sophisticated and well-behaved children, they were both arguing as they did so.

Dylan took off, trying not to pay too much mind at the visible physical fight that was going on over who had claiming rights over which side of the car seat.

He had to notice with a disappointed frown that the house still looked the same when they came back, and no cleaning fairy had taken it upon herself to fix that mess of sneakers, or put away the newspapers sprawled over the coffee table.

Times like these, he cursed his own stubbornness to not hire someone for this.

Dylan made his way to the kitchen to pick up where he left off: preparing lunch. Too bad that his two devil tornadoes had something other in mind.

“Da-ad?” Kendra drawled, and batted her eyelashes at him. Dylan looked up from his cutting board. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Could we get the key to the gaming room, please? Coop has a new game he wants to show me!”

Oh, so suddenly he was Coop again. Dylan put his knife down and perched his palms on the countertop. “Absolutely not,” he said, and their faces fell.

“You can’t just come home from school and demand to play video games the second you’re here. That’s way too much screen time for kids your age.”

“Well, we don’t have anything else we could do.” Cooper argued.

“You know what?” Dylan whirled around and pulled something from a lower shelf. He slammed a handful of books right in front of them. “Pick one. You’re both gonna go outside and read. Until I’m done with lunch. After that, I want your honest to God opinion on what you thought of it.”

“And what if we don’t want to?”

“Well, then I don’t care. Go outside and read. And, for the love of God, choose different places in the yard. Otherwise, that’s going to end in a disaster.”

With that, Dylan turned around and started cleaning the marble kitchen isle. Whatever they did from now on was not his problem anymore.

Cooper gave the books in front of him a suspicious look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those.” He picked up the one titled ‘Death on the Nile’ and turned it in his hands.

Kendra shrugged and pulled ‘The Body’ closer to her. “This one has horror. I’ll take it.”

She made her way to leave the house but stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Cooper one more time before she left. “Oh, and just so you know-“ She grinned, “I’m also taking the lakeside.”

Cooper gasped. “That’s not fair!” He objected, “That’s the pleasant side of the garden. I’ll have to take the streetside, where my only view are old houses and cars rushing by.”

“Not my problem. Called it first.” Kendra shrugged, annoying grin still plastered on her face, and went outside.

Cooper clenched his jaw and looked down at the book still in his hand. ‘Death on the Nile’.

Maybe it includes a guide, he thought.

With a last glance at his Godfather working in the kitchen, he, too, left the house. The path to the streetside of the estate was earthy ground, mostly created by children’s feet running through the grass way too often and keeping it from growing.

Cooper knew the way like the back of his hand.

On the end, a small bench was placed, it had been there since he could remember. Every crack in the old wood seemed to tell a story, the small K and C evidence of two children that were as close as siblings immortalizing their relationship forever in the hard material. Cooper sat down, cross-legged on the bench. The book weighed heavy in his hand, geez, it had many pages. But hey, nobody said he had to finish reading it. Just bridge over the time until Dylan had lunch ready.

The sun was reaching its highest point of the day, and burned down his neck, but Cooper didn’t notice. He was too busy gasping at the sudden death of Linett Ridgeway. He didn’t even realize when other people or cars passed him by.

Back in the house, Dylan had freshly bought pieces of meat sizzling in the pan. The salad had already been placed on the table, and Samira had been nice enough to set the dishes before she had gone home again for the day. Only thing missing were the fries, God, no meat without fries for his children.

Dylan grabbed next to the pan, where the sack of potatoes was placed, but his hand reached into emptiness. Confused, he looked around. On the kitchen isle, next to the salad dressing, under his cooking book. He laid his head back with a heavy sigh.

“Don’t tell me I forgot that goddamn thing in the car,” he muttered. Tell you what, something like that only happened to you when you had three kids to take care of.

Grabbing the car keys for the too maniest time today, Dylan left the house and made his way to the garage. The Ford Mustang was usually parked neatly next to Cameron’s Jaguar XF, that meant, when he was home.

With a sigh, Dylan opened the door to the backseat, and “Yes” found the sack of potatoes he’d been looking for. He was just about to close the car door again, and leave things be, when he saw it.

Dylan did a slow double take, but it was still there when he looked a second time. Throning on the cushions of the left side, basically laughing at him, was a smudge of whipped cream. On the floor, waffle crumbles spread all over the plastic mat.

Dylan slammed the car door shut with way more force than necessary.

“Cooper!”

I don't know why all the trees change in the fall But I know you're not scared of anything at all Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away But I know I had the best day with you today

-The Best Day, Taylor Swift

#cooliver #cooper x oliver #cooper bradford x oliver otto #american housewife #male ocs #female ocs #snow on the beach #the best day #taylor swift #cooper bradford #oliver otto #yourmomxx

7 notes · View notes