#and my coworker goes 'yeah when i started talking to him i realized hes just a big teddy bear'

[jadeneppy]

WHEEEEE

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[jujutsubaby]

🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

[patito-oward]

No I in Team

masterlist

WC: 11.7k

Summary: You’ve just started a new job as a social media manager at Arrow McLaren, and get off onto the wrong foot with your insanely attractive new coworker.

Tags: angst, fluff, smut, 18+

February

This is what you’ve been working for since you were 13. Your first trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was love at first sight. Since then, you’ve revolved your life around racing and getting to every race possible.

You studied marketing and public relations in high school and have now gotten your dream job working as the social media manager at Arrow McLaren.

You’re starting your first day by joining a full team meeting at the team’s headquarters. Except walking around the large building, you can’t seem to find the intended conference room. You’re looking down at your phone, trying to decipher the directions in your email, when you collide with a solid body.

Before you even look up, an apology is spilling out of your mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry-" You cut yourself off when you realize who you’ve just bumped into.

"Just watch where you’re going."

"I’m so, so sorry, it’s just my first day and I have no idea where I’m going, the email I got said conference room on the second floor, but this place is huge and I’m all turned around." You only stop to breathe, realizing you’ve run into not only an indycar legend but a now-coworker, Pato O’ward, and have completely embarrassed yourself.

"I’m headed there; follow me." He was very straight to the point, but you nodded and thanked him.

When you walked into the conference room, you found a few faces of people you recognized from interviews and more you recognized from watching the sport. The meeting began, and plans for the new season were being discussed. You were introduced to the group, but mainly to Pato, Alex, and Felix as the new head of the team’s social media.

Everyone was very welcoming, making jokes with you and telling you not to believe Rossi when he acts annoyed whenever you make him do anything. Overall, you had a really great morning.

After the full team meeting, you were set to have a meeting with just the drivers, owners, and a PR team. You had a 30-minute break between the meetings where you overheard a conversation between Pato and Felix.

"Y/N seems cool." Felix's saying your name caught your attention. "It’ll be nice to have someone young running the social media make sure it stays relevant."

"I guess, yeah." Pato seemed unsure and dismissive.

"You’re not sure?"

"She already seems like a walking disaster. This morning she was staring at her phone and ran straight into me, and then she told me she couldn’t find the conference room, and it was right there. And she talks so much." He puts emphasis on the so much, and you take a little offense; you were just trying to be nice. Felix doubles over laughing. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, mate," He can barely get his words out because he’s laughing so hard. "you just described yourself, that’s all."

"Oh, come on! I am not that bad!"

You’re glad Felix is defending you and seems to like you, but still, you wish Pato felt the same. It’ll make this job really awkward if he’s never cooperative with what you need to do.

Your second meeting of the day goes okay. The team wants you to share a little of what you have planned for the socials and discuss how these things are usually done. Everyone on the team seems really receptive to your ideas, and you’ve seemed to charm the room. You’re joking with the team owners about making the drivers do trends, and Felix and Alex are laughing along with you. Pato doesn’t talk much unless spoken to, and you just wish this day had started out better.

After your meeting, you were free to leave for the day. As you’re walking towards the elevator, Felix calls out to you. When you turn to face him, he begins to speak. "I’m sorry about Pato; I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s definitely acting off today. Just give him time and he’ll warm up to you; you’re doing a great job already." You smile at him and thank him genuinely.

You really hope he’s right and Pato’s just having an off day. You start working with the team immediately, so whatever has him upset, he’s hopefully over by the morning.

March

Unfortunately, that is not the case; a whole month has gone by, and Pato still hasn’t warmed up to you. He’s in no way rude; he’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’s always polite, but he’s never been personable with you.

You watch him during interviews and photo shoots, and he makes everyone in the room laugh. He’s kind to everyone, introduces himself to everyone in the room, and immediately becomes the center of it. You can see that he’s an entertainer at heart, and you wish he’d be like that with you. Even in more personal and private settings, he’s still very outgoing.

He’s so loud talking to Fro and Alex that you can often hear him through walls. He has a great relationship with his pit crew; he is so personable with them whenever he’s around them and will ask them about their wives and kids. If you’re ever in a room alone, it’s always very silent, and he answers you in the shortest way possible. Mostly, he’ll make up an excuse to leave the room or call someone in.

All of this keeps making you wonder where you’re going wrong. Rossi and Felix both seem to really like you; you’ve started getting along really well with both of their partners, and occasionally they will invite you to drinks after a day at work. They even tried to talk you into watching the Firestone GP with them in Rossi’s motorhome despite your having to work.

You’ve become friends with most of the team, and you’ve become really great friends with an engineer on the team, she’s been teaching you a lot about the makeup of the car during your downtimes. This job was so perfect, you just wish you knew why a certain driver seemed to have it out for you.

The Firestone GP that kicks off the season was a small letdown for the team. Rosenqvist had the best finishing position in 8th place, Rossi in 10th, and Pato in 13th. The team has been working so hard and really thought that they’d start the season off much better than this.

April

The team has been working a month straight at improving speed for Texas, and they’ve found some. During Friday practice, Rossi and Rosenqvist showed a lot of speed and were 3rd and 5th, but O’ward was still 9th, leaving the team to wonder where they were going wrong with him.

While walking by his garage, you notice a few engineers, including your new friend, and Pato watching his in-car footage from practice. As you watch, you notice what’s going on. You watch for another lap to make sure. "You’re going into the turns too fast, breaking heavy late, and by the time you’ve regained control of the car, you’ve ended up losing time." It feels like every eye in the speedway turns to you in that moment, like you could hear a pin drop in the garage.

Before anyone says anything, they simply rewind the tape and watch a lap. You watch everyone watch the screen as he goes into a turn, starts losing the car, then breaks heavy while getting it back under control. It happens three more times, and a mechanic speaks. "Holy shit, she’s right."

Pato takes the car back out, and in the few laps he’s able to do, his speed has skyrocketed. The speed he has now would have him at P1.

When he gets back into his pit, he’s celebrating with the team all around, and then he approaches you. "Thank you so much! You’ve saved my ass for this race."

"It’s no problem, really.”

Pato qualified for P3 the next day and finished the race 2nd. It's been a way better weekend for the team, and everyone is buzzing with energy.

After the race, Alex and Fro ask you to join them for celebratory drinks at a bar near the speedway. You join them and their partners, as well as Pato, and you all have a great time. You even got some content for Instagram and TikTok.

Everyone’s feeling pretty good and has a decent amount of liquor in their systems when Pato approaches you. "I owe you an apology."

You really were confused by this. "What?"

"Over the way I’ve been acting, I don’t even know why; I think I was just having a bad day and then got too stubborn to admit that I was wrong."

"Oh, it’s okay, water under the bridge." You try to wave it off, as this conversation feels very awkward.

No, I’ve been a total jerk for no real reason, and you haven’t deserved it, so I really am sorry. Can I please just have another chance at introducing myself?"

"You never introduced yourself in the first place."

He looks sheepish. "Another thing I’m sorry for." Holding out his right hand, he says, "Hi, I’m Pato. I’m glad you’re joining the team. I’m sure you’ll make a great addition."

"Hi, Pato, I’m YN; it’s so nice to finally meet you." When you shake his hand, you can see him soften a bit and his demeanor change, and you really hope that everything from the last two months really is water under the bridge in the morning.

You had a week and a half break after that, where you were only required to make a few posts and had one meeting. When you returned to work at Long Beach, Pato brought you coffee. You were shocked, but glad that fences really were mended.

April also held the first practice for the 500, which showed great promise for the team.

May

You and Pato have turned into fast friends. It turns out the two of you really are a lot alike. As you’ve entered the most important month for the sport, you cannot be more glad that things have been smoothed over.

Now that you’re close with all three of the boys, you’re often drugged into content whenever you’re filming it. The boys will often start arguing and look to you to settle it, or when you make them do a challenge, you have to clarify the winner.

Pato will even ask you to follow certain trends he’s seen floating around, and whenever you reveal that in a caption, his fans go crazy.

You don’t just begin to get closer professionally, though; when Pato finds out you’re a fan of the Marvel movies, he gets very excited to have someone on the team to watch them with. During the first week of May, he invited you to come watch Iron Man with him after a day of work, and you accepted.

When you first walked into his motorhome, it was definitely a little awkward; you didn’t really know where to sit or what to do with yourself. He quickly eased the tension, though. "Sit on the seat with the blue blanket; I dug it out in case you’d want it. I always keep it cold in here because I like to snuggle under a blankie."

You laughed at him. "Blankie? Are you five?"

"No! I’m just a sensitive guy who likes to be warm."

"Thank you for getting a blankie out for me too."

"Do you want anything to drink? I have water, electrolit, topo chico.."

"You realize we’re in private; you don’t have to endorse your sponsors to me."

He gives you a dirty look from the fridge and says, "You are so funny. I’ll have you know that I just don’t keep the fridge very stocked, and my sponsors provided all this."

"I’ll take a topo chico, please." You give him a sickly sweet smile from your place curled up on the loveseat, and he brings one for you and one for himself. You place both in the cup holders between you. "Thank you, sir."

"Don’t call me that, it's weird. I’m going to order food, did you eat or should I order you something too?"

"You don’t have to order me something; I’ll order myself food."

"Don’t be silly; I invited you; I’ll pay for takeout." He opens Grub Hub and starts scrolling through options. "You know what the worst part about frequent travel is?" You hum out a response. "I never know what food is good. I have no clue where to order from."

Oh, I know. My family and I used to always get food from this Chinese place on race weekend. Here it is." You pulled up the place on your phone, and you had to call to place the delivery order.

Once the order was placed, you both settled into your spots on the sofa and started the movie. Before long, the food has arrived, and you’re both digging in as the movie plays. "This is the best Chinese I’ve ever had. You definitely saved the day!"

"I don’t know about the whole day; maybe just dinner. Besides, I definitely didn’t save your wallet." You looked at all the takeout boxes on the counter. "I think we ordered enough for a small army."

"Yeah, but it’s so good." He punctuates his sentence with a groan and an eye roll that make your stomach flutter for just a moment; you’re not blind after all.

You’ve always found Pato attractive, even before you started working here, but now that you have the job, you know it's important to keep those feelings at bay. Not only that, but he made it easy to do so when he was constantly icing you out. Reminding yourself of those facts, you redirect your attention to the TV in front of you.

That was the first of many movie nights with Pato. You were at the paddock basically every day, and he claimed he got lonely being alone in his trailer every night, so he kept inviting you back.

For a tik tok, you had Pato and Felix make a list of red flags about each other, in which they both mentioned each other's taste in movies. Of course, the two started to argue about it, and Pato turned to you. "YN thinks my taste in movies is great; we always do movie nights together."

"Mate, I can’t believe you’ve been exposing her to that." He pauses, then says, "Wait, how often do you do movie nights? And why am I never invited?"

"Because your taste in movies sucks."

They move onto the next topic, and you cut that part out of the video, really not wanting too many people to see it, but it does get you wondering why he never invites Felix over instead of or even with you.

Two nights later, at your next movie night, you bring it up. "Patito?"

He groans. "What?"

"Why don’t you ever invite Felix over for movie night?" He looks at you quizzically. "I mean, he’s like your best friend, right? So why don’t you ever have him over instead of me?"

"Felix likes to be doing something. He wants to play a game or go out, which is great and all, but after work sometimes I just like to relax and watch a movie but don’t necessarily want to be alone."

"So you picked me because I’m boring."

He laughs. "Not boring, just easy." You squeal at him and smack him in the chest, but he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him from across the sofa. "Come on, you know I’m just playing."

You’re facing him, and your upper body is in his lap as you look up at him. All of a sudden, you feel way too close to him, and like you’re crossing into dangerous territory. You sit up and pull back into your seat. "Yeah, I know. Let’s start the movie."

"You’re right, I don’t want to be up too late with quals tomorrow."

"It’s May; you always have something tomorrow."

Qualifying for the Indy GP goes really well, and Pato gets pole. The team getting pole was a huge accomplishment, so a bunch of people went out for drinks at a bar 10 minutes from the speedway. You’re out for a few hours, and around 11, everyone decides to disperse, and you begin to call for an Uber to your place, which is 30 minutes away. While standing outside and both of you ordering ubers, you complain to Pato about how late it’ll be when you finally get home.

"Just come stay at mine; you have to be back in Speedway at 6 anyway."

"Are you sure it’s not a problem? I can just Uber back."

"Stop being silly. You’re my friend, you’re never a problem."

You both climb into an Uber and ride the 10 minutes back to the speedway. You have the Uber drop you off at the entrance and walk to the driver lot from there. It’s a gorgeous night, and no one’s out right now.

Pato turns to you, "Let’s go walk the track." You laugh at him, not thinking he was serious. "No, come on, it’ll be fun."

"You’re crazy; we’ll get in trouble."

"Oh, come on, live a little, baby."

The name rolls off his lips, and you’re convinced you may do anything he asks. You’re being pulled by him towards the gasoline alley and pit lane, where you could climb onto the track.

He begins shouting when you get on the track. Calling out just to hear his echo. You pull him to you and put your hand over his mouth. Hush, you’re going to get us caught." You’re laughing as you say it because he’s fighting against your hand.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he looks around the track. "In 3 weeks, every one of these seats will be filled."

"I know, it’s crazy to think about."

"It’s like 300,000 eyes on you, watching every move you make; it’s nerve-wracking but also so thrilling."

He’s still looking out at the bleachers; you’re standing on the bricks in front of the padoga. "We could kiss the bricks?"

He looks down at his feet, dragging his shoe across the bricks. "Nah, I want to save it until I win."

Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait long."

It’s silent for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. "We should probably head back. I have a GP to win before I can win the 500."

You burst out laughing at him. "You’re so cocky."

"Confident." He corrects you with a raised eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, then interlocks your hands. "Let’s go."

On the walk back, you’re leaning into his side with your head on his shoulder and never letting go of his hand. When you arrive back at the motorhome, you’re exhausted. You head into the bathroom to wash your face, and Pato calls out to you, "There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink; I’ll get out some clothes for you."

When you exit the bathroom, there’s a pair of Pato’s merch pajamas sitting on his bed for you. "We can either share the bed or I can pull out the couch, but Elba says the couch is uncomfortable, so it’s up to you."

The thought of being that close to him all night makes your heart skip a beat. "Are you sure you’re okay sharing the bed?"

"We’re adults." He shrugs like it’s obvious. "As long as you’re not a blanket hog, we’ll be just fine."

After you change into pajamas, you get into the side of the bed that doesn’t have his things on the nightstand. As you climb under the layers of blankets, warmth and his smell engulf you. It’s different from how he smells day to day; it’s like what he usually smells like minus the sweat and gasoline. It makes you feel incredibly close to and surrounded by him. Sleep quickly begins to overtake you; you’re vaguely aware of him climbing into bed next to you, but you're fast asleep within 5 minutes.

The next morning, you woke up with a minor headache, and as you woke, you noticed that you were clinging to the man next to you. You’re half lying on top of him and have your arm across his chest and your face on his pec. Despite how comfortable you were, you knew it would be bad if he woke up and found you hanging all over him. You reluctantly and carefully pulled away from him and climbed out of bed. When you climbed out of bed, he rolled over and started searching for something in the bed. Rocky jumped up into the spot you’d just vacated and cuddled up with Pato, which seemed to settle him back into sleep. You quietly got ready for your day at work, stealing an Electrolit to hopefully ward off your headache.

As you searched the fridge for something edible, Pato emerged from the bedroom. His shorts hung low on his hips, and he’s shirtless; even with his bedhead, he looks absolutely delicious. "Goodmorning, sunshine."

He groans and stretches. "Morning, did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted, and that bed is stupidly comfortable.

"We still have an hour until we have to be at work; do you want to get breakfast?"

"I love the way you think."

"Give me five to get ready, and we’ll head out."

You end up taking his McLaren to a small diner. There’s a mural of IMS on one of the walls of the diner and a checkered flag in the window. "I still can’t believe this whole town celebrates like this for a whole month." Pato is looking out the window at the stores, all with flags adorning them.

"This is how I grew up. My dad and I looked forward all year for this month. I could never sleep the night before the 500; I was always too hyped up, like a kid on Christmas. I love this sport."

You quickly finish eating, then head to the track. Today’s the day of the Indianapolis Grand Prix, where Pato will be starting on pole, and you both have work to do before the race starts.

You don’t see him much after you get back to the track; you’re both being pulled in twenty different directions, but you’re able to get a photo of him climbing into the car for the Instagram story and wish him luck then.

The race starts well; he’s able to get through the first lap scrape-free, which cannot be said for all of the field. Around lap 60, he gets hit from behind and spins out; by the time the AMR team gets him going again, he’s in 21st place. The team is ecstatic with the finish of the race, with Rossi winning it, but for Pato, the race went awful. He had really high hopes for the race but ended up in P17.

The team has obligatory celebrations, and you have to capture some content of Rossi for the social media accounts. After all the celebrations are done, you go on a search to find Pato. You find him in his pit box reviewing race footage.

You lightly place your hand on his shoulder, "Hey,"

"Oh, hi."

"Tough race."

He lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Are you ok?"

"Just frustrated."

"We’ve been invited to drink to celebrate Rossi’s win; wanna go?"

"No, I’ll just bring the mood down. You should go, though."

"There are plenty of chances to go drinking with them; do you want to just do a movie night? We can watch a sad movie, so you can’t bring the mood down."

He laughs, which was your intended reaction. "Yeah, you always cheer me up."

You go up on your tippy toes and wrap him in a hug, "You ran a great race today." As you pull away, Kevin Lee is hanging nearby to get a word with Pato. "I’ll see you tonight."

You have lots of work to do, and it’s a job in itself just to be able to grab Alex and take up his time. It’s hours later when you’re finally done for the day and able to escape to Pato’s trailer. He’s already in there and changed into sweats; when he opens the door for you, he looks mopey.

You’ve run to Walmart and bought fresh clothes—a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt—that you’ve now changed into.

You’ve been in his trailer so many times now that it’s anything but awkward. You look around at the place; the TV is still off, but there’s an almost empty glass and a bottle of tequila on the counter. Rocky and Norbi are calm in a way they wouldn’t be if he hadn’t taken them out, so at least you know that’s been done. You don’t really know how to comfort him; today was a big loss, and going into the 500, you know it hurts.

"You came to watch a movie, right?”

"I came because you’re my friend, and I know you’re upset. So whatever you want to do,"

He slumps down on the couch in front of you. "I’m so disappointed. I failed myself and the team. I had this race in the bag to win, but I fucked it all up."

You sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did everything you could to make this a great race. You couldn’t help that you got hit. All you can do now is focus forward on the 500."

He leans back, "I know. You’re right." He pulls you back, and you’re now both reclining on the sofa with heads turned towards each other, only a few inches apart. "You’re my best friend, you know."

You smile at him. "Yeah, you’re mine too."

The two of you are pressed together from your shoulders to your knees. You grab the blanket that’s on the couch next to you and cover both of you with it. You turn on the TV to a show you’ve seen a million times and let the soft noise of it drift the two of you to sleep.

You wake up at 2:00 AM and can barely move from the position you’ve been sleeping in. You gently wake Pato and convince him to move to the bed. When you both climb under the covers, he grabs you and pulls you into him, placing a kiss on the side of your head. He’s clearly barely awake, but you can’t fall asleep.

Your body is buzzing with the feeling of his against yours and his breath on your neck. You feel like a horrible person because he got so vulnerable with you and is clearly just seeking comfort in you after a bad day, and you’re obsessing over it like a schoolgirl. Still, you can’t help the feeling that’s coursing through your body, like you’d be content to stay this way forever.

When you wake up, it’s like nothing has changed between the two of you. Pato feels better and is back to his normal and cheerful self, and your relationship stays what it always was, friends. It’s not that you ever expected anything to change, but for that night, you allowed yourself to hope it would.

A week of lots of work, three movie nights, and one sleepover goes by, and then it’s Saturday and time for qualifying. The team does incredible, all four cars make it into the fast 12. Sunday holds so much anticipation for the team. You’re slammed with making posts to celebrate yesterday’s results along with today’s. Not to mention, every time one of the drivers went out, you stopped everything to watch their run.

After the first run, Pato and Fro advance to the fast 6, and you watch to see who gets bumped. Knowing the drivers has brought a whole new side to this sport for you, you can’t even imagine what it’s like for the drivers who have failed to make it. The Firestone Fast 6 has Marcus Ericsson on pole, with Pato starting 3rd and Felix 5th. You know this is an incredible place to be for the race; to have a spot in the front row is a huge deal, but Ericsson on pole has everyone worried he’ll pull away with a second win.

You have a week that consists of two practices and studying every move Ericsson makes to find his weak spots and figure out how Pato can play off them. You’re posting on social media five times a day to lead up to the race. The Legends Day parade made for incredible content, and you’re left in awe at the people covering the streets just for a chance to be waved at by a driver.

Pato convinced you to spend the night with him after the parade; you couldn’t say no when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouted at you to stay, especially when you never wanted to say no in the first place. It really was easier to stay in Speedway for the night, considering the traffic in the morning will be horrendous, and you sleep the best you ever have when you’re lying next to him.

The 500 lived up to everything it should. It was 200 laps of pure excitement. At no point in the race were you sure of who was going to win, and it left you unable to breathe for most of it. You had spent the day taking photos and videos so you could do an "Admin’s photo dump," and if you took some photos of Pato making ridiculous faces at you that you planned to just keep to yourself, no one had to know.

At lap 190, Ericsson is in the lead, with Colton Herta second and Pato third. You know that Pato will have to pull off a huge move to take the lead; he’s racing against two of the greatest in the field. As they go around turn 3, Herta goes on the outside of Ericsson, trying to make a pass for the lead, but he finds the marbles and wrecks both of them. Pato got by, but others behind him were not so lucky. The four car wreck gets red flagged immediately. The good news is, Pato’s restarting in 1st; the bad news is there are nine laps left, and Palou is right behind him. As the race starts up again, you can barely breathe. After a warmup lap, the race goes green, Palou takes a hard dive to the inside and passes Pato. He has the lead for three laps, and you’re already upset for Pato; you know how badly he wants this. As you’re thinking that, Pato passes him from the outside, and begins to run away with the lead. He leads the last five laps of the race and crosses the start-finish line as the winner of the 110th Indianapolis 500.

You’re so thrilled for him that you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can hear him on the team radio celebrating and thanking God in Spanish. He does his victory lap, and then brings the car back into pit lane. You’re at his car before it’s even stopped, taking his steering wheel from him, and when he gets out of the car, he wraps you in a hug. He’s holding you around the waist and lifting you up, spinning you. "You just won the fucking Indy 500. I’m so proud of you."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

He’s all too quickly being pulled away from you and being congratulated by the rest of the team. You stand in awe as you watch one of the most important people in the world to you live out their dreams. You watch every part of the celebration with so much pride. You can’t think of anyone more deserving of the ring, the wreath, or dumping a bottle of milk on himself.

When he kisses the bricks, you’re right there next to him, kissing them too. "I guess it’s good we waited for the real deal to do this."

"This was definitely better than doing it just because we could." He has the biggest smile on his face, from ear to ear and reaching his eyes, and all you can think is how you’d give anything to always have him this happy.

It's been hours of celebrating him, and you’re soaking up every moment. When all of your business at the Speedway is over, you both head back to his motorhome to get ready to go out and celebrate. When you get there, he pulls down the fanciest-looking bottle of tequila you’ve ever seen.

"Take a shot with me?"

You scrunch your nose. "I hate doing shots."

"You can’t say no to me, I’m an Indy 500 winner.”

You sigh and give in. "That card works for today and today only." He has poured out two shot glasses, and handed one to you. "Here’s to you, being the best friend a girl could ask for, and the best damn driver this track has even seen." You clink your glass with his and take the shot, choking it down. "Holy shit, that needs a chase-"

You’re cut off by lips on yours. At first, you’re shocked and don’t react. Once you do, you have one hand on his cheek and the other around his neck, and you lean into the kiss like it’s oxygen. It’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had, you’re thinking everything and nothing at once, and the pieces of the world feel as if they’ve fallen together. His hands around your waist pulling you to him, the way his mouth presses into yours, the taste of tequila on his lips, and the faint smell of sweat, it’s all too much and yet not enough.

You’re unsure how much time has passed when he pulls away, but you’re panting to catch your breath. "Yeah, that’ll work."

"I promise we’ll talk about this later, I just had to do that, and I really need to shower.”

You’re left a little stunned as he disappears into the bathroom. It has you wondering what this means for the two of you, what if it was just a caught-in-the moment thing and he didn’t really mean it?

He is ready to go within 20 minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a corset top, and he’s wearing white dress pants, with a white t-shirt and a gold chain around his neck. You’ve put on a light layer of makeup, and pulled your hair into a bun in an attempt to hide the fact that you’ve been in the sun all day. When he sees you, he says, "You look beautiful."

"Not too bad yourself."

Once you arrive at a bar in Indianapolis, Pato walks around and opens your door for you. He always opens the door for you because you have no clue how to open the doors to his McLaren on your own. When you step out, he places his hand on your lower back. "Is this ok?" You nod at him, and walk into the bar together.

The bar is already filled with people, Pato’s family, friends, other drivers, their partners, and parts of the team out to celebrate Pato’s win. Not everyone in the paddock is best friends, but they all get along, and Pato is so personable that he’s friends with almost everyone, so most drivers are happy for his win. Even Colton and Alex, who are surely having a rough night, came out to congratulate him.

You’re able to watch Pato all night, and he’s a different person than when it’s just the two of you. He’s an entertainer at heart, always putting on a show in front of a crowd, but when it’s just the two of you, it’s like he’s able to relax and just be his authentic self. You've been seated with Kelly and Emille for most of the night, not drinking because you told Pato you’d drive so he could party properly. Even while celebrating with everyone, he still checks in with you periodically throughout the night.

Kelly and Emille must notice the hand he places on your thigh or his lips brushing against your ear because they ask you if the two of you have "finally realized you’re soulmates". You shrug them off, figuring they’d just been drinking too much, but then they confess that one of the reasons they invited you to drink so much is because Felix and Rossi were convinced that you two would be perfect for each other. They quickly move onto a new topic, but you begin to wonder what dating Pato would be like. You figure it’d be a lot like your relationship now, but you’d get to have all of him, and not have to hide your feelings for him. The thought of getting to know him more intimately sends a chill down your spine.

As things start to wind down, Pato comes to where you’re sitting, and wraps his arm across your shoulders. The group has moved around your table, and he’s starting to say his goodbyes. Once you’re out to the car, he hands you his keys. "Please don’t wreck my baby."

"Oh come on, you’ve gotta have more faith in me than that."

"You’re the only person besides my papa I’ve ever let drive this car. That’s enough faith."

You turn on the radio, and the car ride back to Speedway is filled with Pato’s singing. When you arrive back in his motorhome, he’s begging you to spend the night again. You, of course, stay with him.

Climbing in bed, he reaches his hand out to the space in between the two of you. "Too much space. Come closer." You’re on your sides facing each other, and as you scoot in, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. "Much better."

You fall asleep like that, but when you wake up, he’s not in the bed. It has you panicking, wondering if it was a mistake to kiss him, and even more, imagining a relationship with him. You’re in one of his sweatshirts when you climb out of bed and head to the living area. You find it empty, of both Pato and the dogs. You’re pretty worried now, not knowing where he could’ve gone or why he disappeared so early.

Before your mind is able to wander too much further, the door to his motorhome opens, and the dogs come barging in. Pato has his hands full, but when he sets the stuff down on the counter and finally looks at you, he’s upset. "Oh no! You were supposed to still be in bed. Shoot!"

"Where did you go?" You’re very confused about his whereabouts and his aversion to you being awake.

"I went to get us breakfast, I wanted to surprise you when you woke up. I got all your favorites."

You can’t help the smile breaking out on your face. "You got me breakfast?"

"Of course I did. I know I said we’d talk about the kissing later, but I still feel bad for making you wait," a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You’re wrapping him in a hug before you know it. "I thought you freaked on me and bailed."

He pulls back from you and lightly takes your face in both hands. "I’m not bailing or freaking. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and I can’t stop thinking about you, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can feel myself falling for you more each day."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. "Pato,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me again."

A huge grin breaks out on his face as he pulls yours to him. The kiss starts softly, with one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other stays rested on your face. As it goes on, you continue to push him, your tongue swiping across his lips, seeking entrance. His hand tangles in your hair, and the other moves down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He has full control of the kiss, and you, at this point. Your hands are in his hair and on his chest, letting him lead you through minutes of a make out session like you’re in high school.

He pulls away, but you continue to chase his lips. He almost gives in, but he grabs your face and stops you from continuing. "Wait," He’s panting, and you’re pretty sure it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. "I have something important I need to ask you."

You look at him expectantly and hope he can’t tell how fast your heart is beating. "Will you come to the victory banquet with me tonight? I want to celebrate with you."

You consider it, you know it’s a black tie event, and you know it’s broadcasted; you really don’t want anyone wondering or theorizing about who you are. "I don’t have anything to wear."

"I’ll buy you something."

"I do not need you to buy me clothes."

"Now you’re just being difficult. Come with me, por favor, and let me buy you a dress."

You caved to his begging, like always, and he took you to a high-end boutique to find a dress. As you looked through the store, he grabbed a few dresses to add to the ones you were trying on. He followed you to the dressing rooms, and you modeled each dress for him.

"Pato, I can’t believe you picked this out."

"What’s wrong with it?" His voice is whiny, and you can tell through the door that he’s offended.

You look at yourself one more time in the mirror before stepping out to show him. It’s a rouched pink satin dress that’s all too short, and shows an insane amount of cleavage. Pato leaned back on the seat, looking as smug as ever. "You’ve never looked better."

You give him a death stare, "This is so not appropriate, and so not funny." You’re getting stressed about all of this, it’s a lot to go to this event with him and be seen by all of your coworkers, but even more so by any fans.

He must notice how overwhelmed you’re getting because he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Woah, baby, what’s wrong?" You explain to him everything that’s on your mind. "Hey, it’ll be alright, I promise you. What do you need to feel better about this? I’ll give you anything."

"I just want to find something to wear."

"Ok, we’ll find something, I’ll take you to every store in the state if I have to. You’ve still got a few more in there, yeah?" You nod and disappear behind the curtain to try the last couple on.

Finally, you put on a dress that felt perfect. It’s a floor-length black gown with a slit on the left leg and a deep v-neck. "I really like this one, but tell me what you think, and be honest."

You walk out and stand in front of Pato, giving him a slow twirl. "Wow."

"Do you like it?"

"Wow." You slap his arm lightly. "Estás deliciosa." (You are delicious)

You wrap your arms around his shoulder and sit perched on his legs. "Y estás muy rico." (And you are very hot)

"I think this is the one, but I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night."

You change back into your clothes, and head to buy that dress. Your jaw drops when you realize the dress is $450, but before you’re able to protest, Pato has already paid for it. "You did not have to do that, I could’ve found a different dress."

"I liked that one."

"I don’t even know how I ended up trying it on, I didn’t grab anything that expensive."

"I grabbed it, you deserve nice things." He kisses your cheek. "Now stop and let me spoil you."

You feel a heat rise on your cheeks, You’re not used to being treated like you deserve everything, but something tells you Pato’s not going to stop doing so.

You spend hours getting ready, but finally you’re at the victory banquet together. He pays for a ride there, so you could both drink and not worry about it. You walk the red carpet together, and he has his hand around your waist or on the small of your back the whole time.

Everything feels so natural with Pato, from the way he gets you a drink without having to ask what you’d like to his hand resting just above your knee. As a host drones on, you lean into him and whisper, "Pato?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this a date?"

He turns to you a little quizzically, and almost looks offended. "What? No."

You try to hide your disappointment. "Oh, ok, I just thought..."

"When I take you on a date, you will have no doubt it’s a date. There’ll be flowers and dinner, and I will pick you up, and if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss you at the end of the night."

June

And a few days later, he keeps his promise. He picks you up from your hotel with the largest bouquet you’ve ever seen. He then brings you to a restaurant in downtown Detroit, it’s easily the nicest place you’ve ever been. He pays for the meal, which was easily $500, and then drives you home. Things with Pato were easy, the date was the best you’d ever been on, and you both spent dinner laughing, and constantly brushing against each other in some way. When you got to your hotel door, he kissed you as promised. Everything with him is still so new, which makes you want him desperately. His hand wrapped in your hair, which pulls slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, sends a chill down your spine. You lose track of time, and your thoughts are flooded with nothing but him. You pull away from him, but he immediately moves his lips to your neck.

You can feel your chest heaving, "We should stop." even though you really don’t want to.

"This is more fun." You can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck.

"If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will." Despite how much you want that, you’re still hesitant about jumping into things too quickly with him.

He detaches himself from your neck, and when he pulls back, you can see that his pupils are blown, and his hair is mussed from your hands running through it. "Have I told you how insanely gorgeous you look tonight?"

"Only about 30 times." You stand there smiling at each other for a moment, stuck in your own bubble. "It’s getting late."

"I know. I should go."

"Yeah, you probably should." Except you can’t help yourself from kissing him one last time. This time it’s soft and sweet.

"Now I’ve really got to go before we get started again." He walks towards the elevator, but turns just before heading into it. "You’re driving me crazy, invading all of my thoughts, I can barely function!" You know he’s joking, but you also feel the same way.

"Goodnight, Patito!" You call after him, and he returns with "Sweet dreams."

You spent the next few weeks settling into each other. You haven’t told anyone about being together, and have been enjoying your time in secret. You’ve just decided that there’s no rush to tell anyone, and it’s a little fun sneaking around.

It’s three days before Road America when you and Pato are softly chatting while waiting for Fro and Alex to arrive so you can film some content. You mindlessly have your hands locked together, and he’s rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You don’t notice the guys arrive, and they sneak up on you.

"Hey, guys, what’s up?" You jump when you hear Felix’s voice and pull your hand back.

Pato tries to play it off by greeting him back, but Felix just bursts into laughter. You and Pato both laugh along with him but are confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Are you seriously trying to hide that you’re together right now?" Felix can hardly get the words out.

You and Pato both share a look before trying to play it off. "What? We’re not together, we’re just friends."

Now Alex, who tends to just watch, joins in, "We’ve known since the 500."

You roll your eyes at him. "Ok, we haven’t even known since the 500."

"Tell that to lover boy because he didn’t take his eyes off of you all night, and we saw the way he was touching you."

Pato’s cheeks are now bright red, "Ok, I wasn’t that bad."

"Like a love sick puppy." Pato hides his face in his hands.

At this point, you’re just laughing, leave it to Rossi to be brutally honest. You pull his hands away, "Aww, baby, don’t be shy; I think it’s cute."

July

Mid-Ohio once again falls on the Fourth of July weekend. Pato did great in the race, working from 10th place qualifying to a 2nd place finish. The two of you booked a hotel room together for the weekend because you end up in the same hotel most of the time anyway.

After the race, Pato took you out to celebrate. You found a place that was putting on a fireworks show and was lined with food trucks. You both got the greasiest food imaginable, and bought an elephant ear. You found a place in the grass and got comfortable on a large blanket. You laid against him as you waited for the fireworks to start and ate your food.

You’re talking about everything and nothing when Pato grabs your hand and then kisses you softly. "What was that for?"

"I think I’m falling in love with you."

At first, you’re a little shocked to hear it, but you can’t say you don’t feel the same. Everything with Pato has been so fast, but it’s also been so incredibly easy and natural. "I think I’m falling in love with you, too."

You feel like a teenager, making out in front of all these people, but it’s dark enough that you hope no one can see you. It’s the most loved you’ve ever felt, you can tell he’s pouring everything he feels into the kiss. You’re lying down on the ground, cuddled together, as you watch the fireworks go off above you.

When you get back to the hotel room, you’re not tired in the slightest. You’re pulling him into you and kissing him as he tries to unlock the door. When he finally gets the door open, he pulls you inside the room, pins you against the back side of it, and automatically asks for entry into your mouth with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long until he’s backing you up onto the bed and you’re falling back on it.

He continues chasing your lips, only breaking away to pull off his shirt. He grabs the hem of your shirt, but before lifting off, he stops to make sure you really want to do this. When you nod your head, he pulls it over your head. Your chest is heaving as he reaches behind you to undo your bra.

You can feel him pressing up against you, and you reach down to grab him as he attaches his mouth to your breasts. It has him pressing into your hand and letting out a moan that has you shivering.

Before you know it, you’re lying together in the middle of the bed, and you’re begging him to slide into you. When he finally does, you see stars. He’s babbling in Spanish, you can’t pick it all up, but you understand that he’s telling you how beautiful you are and that he loves you. You’ve never felt so fully connected to or in love with a person.

Your foreheads are pressed together, and your lips are brushing every time he moves. His right hand is holding yours, and his left is tweaking your nipple.

"Eres la persona más sexy que he conocido." (You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.)

His Spanish has you shivering under him as he continuously pumps into you. You feel yourself growing closer as he begins to speed up, and you move your hand down to your clit to move yourself along. He slaps your hand away and replaces it with his own. "Quiero explorar cada centímetro de tu cuerpo." (I want to explore every inch of your body)

You can tell he’s close by his faltering rhythm, but so are you. As he moves his lips to your ear and tells you to let go, you go flying over the edge. You’re seeing white, and he follows quickly after; it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

You’re both naked with a layer of sweat covering your bodies, and you’re curled into his side. You’re tracing random designs across his chest as you both try to catch your breath, and he is placing kisses on your forehead.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy." You’re whispering into the dim room, hoping he knows how special he is to you.

"Me either. Estoy enloquecido por ti." (I am crazy for you)

Things with Pato keep getting better. He took you to Mexico with him during the break between Ohio and Toronto, and you met a lot of his family. You automatically got along with everyone, and loved how close knit everyone was. You only fell deeper for him around his family. He introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend, and told everyone how much he loved you. You’re having dinner at one of his Tio’s farms, and you watch him as he runs around with all of his younger cousins, and you decide that if he asked you tomorrow, you’d run off to Mexico and spend the rest of your life with him.

August

Nashville came, and the two of you spent the weekend partying like it was your 21st birthday. When you came to a bar with a mechanical bull in it, Pato was convinced he could ride it. You took a picture of him, cowboy hat on and arm in the air, and put it on your Instagram story with the caption "save a horse, ride a cowboy". This was the first time you’ve posted anything about him, but you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal because you have a small following made up mostly of friends and family.

The following morning, Pato posted a photo dump of the weekend, and included a picture of you kissing his helmet before he climbed into his car. You can’t tell that it’s you, from your hair or the angle Elba took the photo from, but that doesn’t stop people from noticing. Immediately, fans flood the comments with questions about your identity. Your papaya polo is the only thing that gives people any clue as to who you are. No one really ends up finding out it’s you, but a few people see your story and like it.

You’re back in Indianapolis the next week, and Pato is staying at your apartment. He insists that he meet your family, claiming it’s unfair that he hasn’t met them when you’ve met all of his. You took him to your childhood home for dinner. Your dad grilled steaks, and your mom made corn on the cob and baked potatoes. Your parents knew about you and Pato, and they’d known who he was since he started racing. You were nervous as you pulled into your driveway. Pato grew up with money, you know that most drivers do, and he grew up in a huge house in San Antonio. You don’t know exactly what he makes now, but you know that it’s a lot, most likely pushing $1 million a year. Your yearly salary is a weekend getaway for him. He’s never shown that he cared at all; he gladly stays with you in your apartment with creaky floors and poor water pressure, but you still worry about what he will think of the home.

Your worries dissipate as soon as you walk in the door, and he’s nothing but his perfect self. He shakes hands with your father and hugs your mother, you can tell that they love him already. You eat dinner together in your backyard, and he immediately starts talking racing with your dad. Your dog stares at him as he eats, begging for a bite, and you chuckle when he caves and tries to secretly feed him a bite.

You know that the season only has a month left in it, and the thought of living in two different states looms like a bit of a dark cloud, but moments like this make you know you’ll be okay.

September

The season is closing, and you’re busier than you’ve thought possible. The top 3 for the championship are Palou, Pato, and Felix, so you’ve been insanely busy promoting the last 2 weeks of the season, and planning posts for the result of the championship.

There’s a lot of tension on the team because of how close Pato and Felix are, and either of them could win the championship. There’s also the chance that neither of them would win it, which would stink after such a strong year for the team. You worry about Pato and his relationship with Felix, and you don’t want the fight for the championship to hurt that at all. You can also tell that the stress is getting to Pato, he’s at work constantly, and even when you’re home, he’s studying his previous races or working out ridiculous amounts. You try to be there for him, but it’s hard when there’s no way you can ensure he wins the next two races.

And Portland doesn’t go the way he wanted. He has a 3rd-place finish, which slots him down a spot in the race for the championship and makes it so he needs to have an absolutely perfect run for Monterey.

You’re exiting the bathroom in your hotel room when you notice he’s sitting on the bed, staring off into space. "Pato, are you ok, honey?"

He takes a minute before responding. "There are five days left of the season."

"I know that."

"I live in San Antonio; you live in Indianapolis."

"Oh." You’ve both been avoiding this subject for as long as possible, but you’re running out of time, and it needs to be addressed. You sit down gently on the bed next to him.

"I love you, you know that, but I don’t know if I can handle being away from you that often."

"I know, I’ve gotten so used to being with you that it’s hard to be apart." You know that some couples crave distance, and would not be able to handle working together as well as basically living together, but you always want to be within 30 feet of Pato.

"Maybe I’ll move up here, it’s where the team is based, so it makes sense. I just already don’t see my family enough, especially the ones in Mexico."

Pato does so much for you, and works so hard that you know what the answer is. "I’ll move to San Antonio." You’ll be with him, but you have to be in Indiana frequently anyway for work, so you’d still see your family a lot.

"That’s not fair to you, to pick up your whole life."

"It’s what I want to do. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren’t, and I’ll see my family whenever we have to work."

He pulls you into a hug that’s a little bone crushing. "I love you, mas que vida." (more than life)

"Te amo también." (I love you too) Your eyes are a little watery, and having moments like this with Pato remind you how endlessly lucky you are.

Pato seems to be in overdrive, his car is lightning fast, and he comes out on top of both practices.

You’re sitting in the driver's room with Pato while he gets ready for qualifying, he’d arrived insanely early, so he had time to decompress before going out. You’re cuddled together on the couch, with his fire suit hanging off his hips, and you’re talking about something other than racing for what feels like the first time in months. Rossi enters and finds the two of you there, "You know this is for drivers only?" You know he’s just giving you a hard time.

"I had to be here, I’m doing very important business." You smile up at him as he begins to grab all of his racing gear.

"I can tell."

As Rossi gets ready, he joins in on your and Pato’s conversation, but not much because the two of you talk so much that it barely gives him a chance. Then Felix shows up, late as always. He grabs his helmet and then hands it to you.

"What am I going with this?"

Oh, you don’t need it? I thought you were a driver now."

"You are sooo funny." You grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at him.

You sit with Pato until you have to go to the pits to do work. During qualifying, he puts up an insane lap that puts him in P1 by over a second. Pato gets the pole for the race tomorrow.

You’re both buzzing when you walk into your hotel room, and he’s immediately all over you. You’re setting your stuff down by the door, and he’s crowding up behind you. His hands are on your hips, and he’s grinding into you as he attaches his lips to your neck. "You’re my good luck charm. I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how thankful I am."

Heat is riding up your neck, and you’re leaning back into his touch. He takes you to the bed and tosses you on top of it. He takes his shirt off, but then turns all his attention towards you. He was kissing a trail down your body as he undressed you. Worshipping every new piece of revealed skin. He had you in just underwear panting and begging for him to do something more. He’s teasing you over the lace of your panties, and you know it’s absolutely soaked.

He finally takes them off and slips one finger in. You’re so desperate that it has you crying out, and he quickly adds another. "Is this why they call you fast hands?" You can barely get the sentence out, but it has him laughing. His hands are good, but they’re nothing compared to his mouth. He’s still pumping into you with his fingers, but he brings his tongue to your clit. He circles it with his tongue a few times, but then sucks on it lightly, which has you crying out.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling so hard that you know it has to hurt, but it seems to only spur him on. He lays his tongue flat against you, and you buck against him as he repeatedly hits your spot. It has you tumbling toward the edge, but you pull him away before you’re able to.

He looks a little confused, but you quickly dissolve his fears. "Want to come with you in me." He immediately crawls up your body, and pulls down his sweats, which now have a wet spot on them, just enough to free his cock. He gives himself a few pumps before he's filling you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he starts pounding into you, his thumb pressing circles around your clit.

"Come on, pretty girl, come for me." His words send you over, and you’re coming with a loud moan. He follows you shortly after, biting into your shoulder to muffle the groan he lets out.

He collapses next to you as you catch your breath. Your chests are both heaving when he says, "Round two?"

It has you laughing out loud because, of course, he wants to go again. "I'm afraid I won’t be your good luck charm if you fall asleep behind the wheel because you were up fucking me all night."

"Doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth it."

You do end up sleeping, which is a good thing because you both have incredibly busy days. You've been incredibly nervous all day, buzzing with anticipation of whether Pato will become the champion. You don’t get a lot of time, but you do see him for a few minutes before he has to get in the car.

"Kiss for good luck?" You place an exaggerated kiss on his lips. "What about a quickie?"

"Patricio O’ward!" Your jaw is open, and you’re looking around to see if anyone heard him. "Get in your car."

He hugs you before he has to go, but you whisper to him as he does. "Be safe. And I’ll give you whatever you want if you win." When he pulls back, he’s smiling from ear to ear, and he jogs off to his car.

You were on the edge of your seat for all 95 laps. Each lap was more nerve wracking than the last, and you felt like you could only breathe when a yellow was thrown. To make matters worse, there wasn’t a dull moment in the race. There were six yellows and a red flag thrown in the race, and one of the yellows screwed Pato, letting most of the field pit on yellow when he’d just pitted on green. You felt crazy, with his radio in your ear, tracking his stats for every lap, and counting how long each pit stop took. The whole team was on edge, but you were even more so.

After what felt like 10 hours, the race ended with Pato in the lead. You realized immediately everything this meant for him. This is the year he became an Indy 500 winner and an IndyCar champion.

He pulls into pit lane, and there’s cameras all over as the team runs out to meet him. He’s standing on top of his car, screaming out and celebrating, but then he spots you. He points to you and runs over to you as he takes off his helmet. He’s kissing you before you can really process anything. You grab his face and look into his eyes to speak to him. "I can’t believe it, I’m so proud of you." Your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is.

"Never could’ve done it without you."

Your kiss was put on national television, and fans quickly put together that you’re the girl from Nashville and the victory banquet, but you don’t care. You are so insanely in love with Pato, and you want the world to know it.

[weebsinstash]

I've talked about romantic/sexual yandere Miguel being goaded on by an alternate of himself or another you, but, I'm also thinking about platonic yandere parental/guardian Miguel getting a little 'push' to realize he wants you to play a more central role in his life, either from being in competition with an alternate of his or outright being told by his alternate that it's what he should do

You're just in the Spider Society minding your own business and you see Miguel talking to, Another Miguel, but this one has glasses or a beauty mark or some distinguishing feature. The two of them are discussing anomalies and "the fate of the multiverse" and other such serious topics when you stroll by, giving a wave and such as hello when the second Miguel actually pauses their conversation to greet you, actually being, well, much like YOUR Miguel with his occasional sarcastic snark but, friendlier, introducing himself to you, shaking your hand, asking you questions like how old you are, how long have you been a Spider, etc, amd you're ready to start cracking jokes about how, maybe you'll start spending time with this new Miguel instead since 'yours' is suddenly so grumpy, when. Oh dear, the awkward thing happens. Here comes the other you, bounding right up to the other Miguel, "Papá, there you are 🥰 this place is like a maze and I got lost looking for you, dont leave me behind again 🥺"

Both you and Miguel are watching your alternates interact, actually silently internally in some weird sort of agreement with "this is kind of weird but also oddly wholesome... what the fuck, why do I want what they have..." but it's just. It's also just a little weird. You're literally watching another you cuddle up to another version of your boss, calling the man their dad, acting like they're legitimately his child, with the other man actually being genuinely caring and considerate back. Eventually in private Dad!Miguel asks Miguel about his relationship with you and is basically met with "what relationship. That's just my coworker" as Dad!Miguel rolls his eyes at his emotionally constipated alternate who's apparently going to need a little encouragement

Part of me is like, what if some bullshit happens like, Dad!Miguel is all "oh yeah well if you have such a handle on things and think they can take care of themself without any support or guidance, what are they doing right now" and Miguel is all huffy and all FINE LETS SEE, IM SURE THEYRE FINE and goes to, use his monitors or whatever to spy on you and, you're having like a mental episode, a real crying session, some real boo hoo sobbing and maybe even cutting yourself as Miguel is "coincidentally" having an epiphany that, hey, maybe you DO need an extra mentor figure in your life... maybe he can... ask you about your day and stuff? Dad!Miguel over here ready to rip his hair out as he realizes your Miguel went through all the second universe stuff and is now an emotionally bottled mess and, in a way needs you as much as you need him

Whether to encourage his alternate or help you since you resemble 'his child', despite all awkward differences, Dad!Miguel sees that you're lonely and struggling and, kinda partially adopts you, becoming something of a mentor, checking in on you, scolding you to est something when his advanced hearing picks up on your stomach growling, making small talk, little things like that, but routinely, becoming a bit of a fixture in your life

Months down the line your Miguel is minding his own business having a pretty ok day and he rounds the corner and. It's Dad! Miguel, convincing you to let him comb your hair because you ran out of the house without doing anything with it first and you've been kind of stressed and tired. Miguel just starting to kind of feel what can only be identified as envy and jealousy as he watches Dad!Miguel spending time with you, "so, are you graduated by now? My child (the other you) is still in university right now" "oh no, I'm not really doing college" "what, but you're so smart! I think you can do anything you put your mind to--"

Miguel turns his back and next time he turns around, Dad!Miguel is getting you gifts for your birthday and it turns out he regularly visits you. The original man's strolling through the lobby and suddenly he sees you with his alternate that he's really starting to hate and, are you speaking Spanish? Since when did you learn Spanish? Did he TEACH you? Have you been spending so much time together that the other him even had that opportunity?

He's just standing there watching Dad!Miguel like, braid your hair or help clean your glasses or do something that's like, platonic but personal, caring, affectionate, and suddenly your Miguel is having the realization, "did this bitch just steal you right under my nose. Did he just baby code MY baby 😤"

Miguel overhears you happily call his alternate Tío and, that's it, he gets so mad he confronts the other him about it in private basically then and there, the other man basically just like "well clearly YOU weren't giving them the support they needed--" and proceeding to give advice on how to get close to you, things you're stressed about and struggling with, things you were too shy and scared to open up about to the original Miguel or anyone who isn't a trusted friend

An alternate version of the YouTwo disaster where YouTwo wants to steal your life because you "stole their dad" when Dad!Miguel spends time with you and they assume they're being replaced out of jealousy, or maybe he even outright wants you for himself, or maybe Dad!Miguel outright meets his unfortunate end in an unrelated villain thing and YouTwo comes to steal YOUR "dad". YouTwo who's more unhinged than ever because their Miguel kind of "broke them in" to be their loving little child and doesn't handle either being replaced or losing the only loved one and source of support they cared about

Of course this is to say, it would DEFINITELY be "unfortunate" if you and Dad!Miguel got so, so close and, then suddenly the man dies and is violently ripped from your life just when you're starting to heal and be happy again and, suddenly you're so heartbroken and vulnerable and, THIS is the moment when your Miguel finally steps up to the plate to truly take care of you amd fully assimilate into your life. You're breaking down sobbing, literally the kind of crying where you can't even stand, you just collapse, and, here he is to pick you up and hold you, embrace you, shoosh you gently and rub your back and let you cry while he helps you feel safe again. He's sorry he's late, but he's here now, so let Papá give you nice big hugs while you cry and then take you back home, ok? His home. Technically YOUR home now, that the two of you share. You'll get served all your favorite foods and made sure you're looked after and, when its time for bed and you get those violent nightmares and images of how your beloved Tío was killed right in front of you and can't manage to sleep, your Papá is there to help hold you and comfort you until you're finally softly snoring in his arms. he looks at you, how heartbroken and, in his eyes, helpless you are, and vows that if anyone ever tries to hurt, or wrong you, or some punk who doesn't deserve you tries to taint your purity, that he'll rip them apart like a wild animal

After all, that's just what good fathers do

[all-pacas]

I was going through your spreadsheet and realized that even though cameron confides in and seeks advice from chsse a lot, he doesn't? ever? he never confides in her at all, not even about his father in cursed.

To be fair, this is very much a Chase Problem: he doesn't confide in anyone. House spends most of Cursed trying to manipulate him (House's words) into opening up, too, and Chase does a good enough job ignoring that that House eventually just sits him down for a Conversation.

Which starts with this little exchange:

CHASE: Why does everybody need to know my business? HOUSE: People like talking about people. Makes us feel superior. Makes us feel in control. And sometimes, for some people, knowing some things makes them care. CHASE: I’d tell you my dad left, my mum drank herself to death… you gonna care about me more? [sarcastic] HOUSE: Cameron would. Me, I just like knowing stuff.

(A little earlier:

HOUSE: Yeah, it’s better. I’ll get to see his face when he reads his dad’s obituary. ROWAN: It’s not your business.

)

It's not your business. Chase doesn't care that House wants to know, that Cameron would want to know. His tone is defiant: he knows House wouldn't care more. House implicitly agrees.

But again, this is very much a Chase Thing. We see it again in The Mistake: at any point — when House is yelling at him for not asking Kayla follow up questions, when Stacy is asking questions six months later, when Cuddy reveals Chase is getting sued punitive damages — he could have said honestly, she came in the second I found out my dad died. Instead Chase sat on that for six months. House demands to know why Chase screwed up? Nothing. His job at stake? Nothing. House has to force Chase's hand by telling him he already knows to get Chase to share his business and save his job.

It happens again! By the way! You could make a case that Chase's Boundaries Era is tied to this; he no longer feels like he owes House anything and is keeping his distance. We see it all the way in S8 with Chase, with how Chase refuses to admit he's upset and struggling with stuff, how he brushes off the entire team with stock phrases ("Just knowing you're there for me is enough"). We see it post divorce, as he lies in the break room rubbing his ring finger and then blows off every attempt by his coworkers to talk to him about it, denies he cares, and then punches House.

HOUSE: So you busted my nose to keep people off your back. CHASE: Pretty much. HOUSE: Making people even more worried about you. CHASE: Maybe. But at least they're not talking to me about it.

Chase does not like people in his business.

And, of course, tying it all back to the note that Cameron confides in him but he never does her: this very much goes to Dibala as well. He spends weeks avoiding her, avoiding the ICU, insisting he's fine and nothing is wrong and he has it handled. Chase does have reason to doubt Cameron would support him, but it's also excessive: we do see that she's willing to give him a real shot when she does learn about the murder, and he knows very well she's a good person. Shame is probably a factor. But so is, you know. Chase doesn't talk about stuff. Chase tries (and fails) to handle his own business. He's better at being honest with House, probably because House doesn't care — House doesn't pity him, House is honest and frank and just wants to know, knowledge is a neutral thing. Chase doesn't want people to care about him more, to pity him and feel bad and offer advice. Even when he really, really needs it.

In fact, even some of the rare times he does open up — in S8 — he's sort of resentful of it. He trauma dumps onto Adams, who is appropriately shocked and throws back sympathy ("It must have meant a lot to your mother and sister you were there for them;" "I never knew,"), only for Chase to curtly reply "I know, that's why I told you." He barely manages to admit to Park he was jealous of her family. Chase isn't totally repressed or anything, but when it comes to being vulnerable, with allowing himself to rely on others… he doesn't. He would rather ruin his career and his marriage every time.

He's not totally repressed. He's just fine with most emotions; he's an easy crier (a fun touch for someone as private as him; I bet he finds it embarrassing). He's quite friendly and quite physical, he's able to express himself usually, without much fuss. But every time, when something big enough or scary enough comes along, Chase shuts down completely. He doesn't want people in his business. (You gotta wonder if and when and how he did tell Cameron about his dad.)

And of course, I'm tying this all around: This is why his friendship with Thirteen is so incredible. Because she's the one he opens up to: not all the time, not all the way. But it's her he tries to talk about his divorce with, trying to figure out why Cameron left after weeks of not talking about her at all. Chase and Thirteen have a couple other little conversations about the divorce, actually, like the one he admits he couldn't handle an open marriage, that he was jealous of House for years. Chase tells Thirteen about Dibala, making her the only person he's willingly told besides Cameron. And what took him weeks of guilt and cost him his marriage in one case, he uses to try and comfort and help Thirteen. It's only a few minor examples, but they're all we get. Maybe because Chase and Thirteen have very parallel traumas (and because she also hates opening up and talking about herself), but they're blinding exceptions. Mostly, Chase doesn't want people in his business.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[barcaavengers]

Illicit Affairs || Neymar Jr. Imagine || Pt. 2

Tag List: @24-martie @swissbacon @softiegukk @cierixx @hannahzmllr @b-bradshaw @enthyn @effervsnt @tpwkangieee @chipstatoest @santhimariyanbu @champagne-priincess @taestrwbrry @katcoolcat @winterwidxw @loki-tom1 @mrs-da-silva05 @goeskths @mickschumacherswhore @itsmoes-world

Disclaimer: Gif not mine. All credits to owner! Found it on google.

Note: Part 2 is here! Don't know why but Tumblr wouldn't let me tag some people for some strange reason but tomorrow I'll try to reach them with the link. Tried to spice things up a bit but not giving everything away. I hope you all enjoy it! As always, let me know what you think and if you want to see anything specific happen!

Warnings: Not in this one.

Your hands were sweating, and you didn't seem to know how to cross your arms as you waited for Neymar to pick you up from work. You had moved to a different zone from the parking area so none of your coworkers would see who picked you up. You didn't need the nosiness nor the questions. 

Of course, the car the football player rented couldn't be a Corolla or at least a Mercedes. No. The man just had to get a Lamborghini with a shocking green color. 

"Couldn't go for something less subtle, just like in the game."

"Still criticizing my choices, like in the game" he says. He had rolled up in front of you with his window down. He was placing the car in parking but you were already opening the door. "Really?"

"Too slow" you tease as you get inside, you are reaching for the belt and twist to buckle it up, but he was already close to your face and kissed your cheek. 

"Hey." 

Whatever snarky remark you could've thought of next, it just flew out the window. "Hey" you say, and you are thankful it was dark or he would see the blush on your cheeks. Well that was unexpected. 

"Your place? Did you eat something? We can go eat something" he says as he starts to drive. 

He was being so nice..

"Uh, yeah, I guess. Thought we'd go somewhere else when you said you'd pick me up" and then you regret the way that sounded. "As in…I don't know" you shrug. 

"You are nervous, aren't you?" And with that he reaches to hold your hand. 

This felt so random yet so….right?

"It's not an everyday thing for me to get picked up by Neymar Junior, so excuse me" you tease and he chuckles.

"You got nothing to worry about, amor" he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses it. You could've sworn you just had your heart skip a beat. You didn't like this feeling. 

"I'm not worried" you lie. "Its just…I don't know" you shrug. 

"Still thinking about what happened yesterday?"

"In a way" you say and bite the inside of your cheek and he steals a glance from the road to look at you. "It's just…What is going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"The kissing. You picking me up…" you pause. "You and Bruna, maybe?"

Not a single word came out of him for a few seconds, and you realized he was still holding your hand. 

"I-, I really don't know how to explain it, or where to begin."

"The beginning would be nice," he glares at you. You were already approaching your house so you gave him the directions of turn here, straight, then turn there and after you were in front of your house. 

"I didn't think I'd enjoy the kiss as much as I did. I've kissed girls before but something about you is different" he explains. "I don't know about you, but I liked it, a lot" he winks to not keep the conversation serious. This guy. 

"What about her, though?"

"She is busy with her own things" he hesitates for a second. "We don't share the same spotlight, she likes one thing, I like the other. I go just to make her happy even if I am miserable, but she can't do that for me unless, like I told you, it's something big" he explains. 

"I'm sure those are things that if you guys talked it out, like I said, it would work. Every relationship goes through rough patches, and they don't need to like the same things."

"Before she was okay with things, then all of a sudden she just stopped. I don't think I feel the same anymore either" he admits, and you could've sworn the only working cell in your head just started jumping of joy at his words. 

"If you feel that way, then maybe you should just…not be there" you internally wince at your own words. No. You were not saying it just to get some benefits out of it, although apparently you didn't seem to mind. Your head was spinning cause it was all happening so fast and you had no idea how to slow it down. So instead of looking at Neymar, you decide to unbuckle the belt which seemed more interesting. 

"I know…" he admits. "It's hard because it has been years, you know? Just hoping for the best that she would change and it just happens by seasons" he shrugs as he unbuckles his belt as well and shifts to face you, and you mirror his action. "Now you," he reaches to cup your face with one hand and you lean against his warm touch. "You have shown more interest in the time we have known each other than she has, ever." Yikes. 

"You are just leaning on me because of your struggle right now, Ney. You don't mean it. And I'm sure she loves you a lot and would love to work things out with you."

"Of course I do" and with that his lips press on yours and you are caught off guard once again. This time the kiss is different, he is pouring what he was feeling into it. Somehow a slow yet urgent kiss that you couldn't resist and you didn't want to either. 

Your hand goes to the side of his neck, reaching with your fingers behind it and finding yourself pulling him closer. His hand goes to your waist, holding it tightly as he kisses you. Those lips that you couldn't deny had you wanting more since yesterday and were finally yours again. Except that he wasn't yours and he was Bruna's at the moment. 

"Stop thinking about her" he mutters against your lips before intensifying the kiss, and you try to keep up. This was bad. You were finding yourself wanting him. All of him. "I don't want to go back to her."

"What?" You had to pull away, your hands resting on his shoulders as you eyed him. 

"I'll tell her it's over", he says. "I want to try it with you…" he pauses. "If you want to, obviously."

"Ney, I-" how can someone answer that? "I don't know what to say. I-" you hesitate and think of your next words. "I would love to, don't get me wrong. What I'm feeling for you…it has never happened to me with anyone else."

"And what are you feeling?" He has a cheeky grin taking over his lips. 

"I can't explain it" here goes nothing. "Yes you were my football crush, first ever" he grins like a kid who just got permission to go play at the playground. "But it isn't the same, you know? When we started playing it was not like I was in love or the crush was still there, and after yesterday things just…I didn't even like you that way" you say, laughing at your words and he does as well. "Somehow I didn't let it happen, because obviously you are with her and I would never interfere with that so maybe after these talks it just…happened" you shrug and he pulls your hand again to his lips and kisses your knuckles. 

"I can deal with that explanation," he says. "Y/N, I mean it when I say that I like you, alright? There is a true reason why I sent you the hearts, and compliments, and play with you every day. You are like my personal getaway from everything, and Bruna hasn't been that for me for a while."

Oh you knew better than to believe him. Isn't that what all guys say? My girlfriend doesn't do this and that, its terrible, please take me? That's what they say and some time later they are back at it again, all happy and in love. Yet Neymar sounded truthful, and you kind of believed him, but you didn't want to take it further until he proved his words. 

"If…you happen to break up with her then maybe yes, we could give it a try" you go back to his previous words. "That's my only condition, and this is me risking a lot and playing with fire because the only one that would get hurt badly if you change your mind is going to be me. So meanwhile, I won't let myself think any further" you hope you sound sure of your words. 

"Wrong, if I change my mind I would get burned too. I do want to be something with you, I mean every single word I have said." That if meant that there was still a chance. 

"So you'd go back to her?"

"I didn't say that, but anything can happen. I don't want to promise you something that not even I can be sure I'm done with."

"Mhm" there is an annoying sound. 

"We will both get burned, not just you. So just…relax and let's enjoy it" he moves closer. "If this is meant to be a temporary thing and it doesn't work then at least we won't stay wondering what could've happened…" and he pulls you close again so your lips meet. Almost as if he couldn't get enough of you, and you couldn't get enough of him either even when you knew better. 

It wasn't like his words were reassuring. You weren't one to risk yourself like this knowing it could end up badly for you, but what if it didn't?

Then the moment was interrupted by his phone ringing and he pulled away from the kiss. You pull yourself back to the seat, running a hand through your hair, and you don't know why but you feel more annoyed than you should. "It's her, isn't it?"

"Yeah" he says as he sets the phone aside. 

"Aren't you gonna get it?"

"Nah, I'll talk with her later."

"I still think you should talk with her to fix things first before you jump into something crazy" you say to him. 

"Been there, done that. She won't change" he says. 

"I broke up with her."

It was…2:27am. What the hell.

"What?" Your voice couldn't be groggier. 

"I broke up with Bruna" he is sniffing. "I-"

"I told you to think it through, Ney" you yawn. "Maybe you can still fix it."

"I'm not…like this because it's over", yep, he is crying. "I just thought she'd care a little more."

"What do you mean?" You sit up on your bed, putting the phone on speaker, you were too tired to just be holding it. 

"She just…waved it off. Asked if I was seeing someone else, asking why the sudden change but no feeling, you know? No asking how to fix it…I told you", he says and it breaks your heart to hear him with his voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, Ney" you frown. "You don't deserve that."

"I guess it's over now…and that's fine…"

"At least now you know the feelings were not mutual. Or maybe she hasn't processed what happened yet."

"Yeah, because someone breaking up with you will have you processing so-" he pauses. "Well, she is writing to me now."

"Ney, please just talk things out" a hand runs over your face. There goes your sleep. 

"Y/N, I don't want to talk things out. I did enough and she won't change" he says. "I want to try something with you."

"Can we talk about this later? You are confused and you have a lot of feelings going on right now so…"

"I'll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast."

"What?"

"See you tomorrow" he blows a kiss into the phone and hangs up. 

What the hell just happened again?

"Ney, we barely know each other, I can't just go to his party."

"It will be fine. Besides, you have played with him before" here is Neymar trying to convince you to go to some streamer's birthday party. You have probably played with him like five times maybe?

"But he didn't invite me."

"You are my plus one, though" he grins and you sigh. This was your first appearance with Neymar after….after the sudden break up with Bruna. You two had talked to keep it cool, just friends because there were people here that knew his ex and the least you wanted was to be caught as Neymar's new girlfriend in a matter of a week. 

"Fine" his grin remains there and he leans in to kiss you, a passionate kiss before opening his door.

The party was fun. Neymar and you have been distant yet close from each other. He would casually get into the conversation you were in, arm around your waist for a few seconds before letting go. His hand would brush yours just enough as if he was holding it, his hazel eyes following you almost everywhere. You have made conversation with some of the guys so that was fun. It helped to keep yourself from following Neymar throughout the party like a lost puppy because you didn't know anyone. 

"Come on, let's dance."

"Spoiler alert, I can't" you voice. "And I could never keep up your pace" you tease. 

"Come on, I'll show you" he takes your hand and pulls you to the side, arms around your waist. "Just let me handle you, okay? For once?"

"Like if you could" you say playfully and he starts guiding your steps. His breath smelled of that peanut butter whiskey he started to like so much, and it was proven to you when he kissed you and the after taste was of just that. "Ney" you say in a warning tone. 

"Its fine, no one is looking at us." The party was taking place right besides the room you two were in, only a wall was hiding you two from the rest. "You look gorgeous today" he says into your ear. "The things I would do-"

"Hey, easy" you shush him. Yeah, you two suddenly jumped the other night into this kind of conversation. You don't remember how you got there. You just did and it seemed to have had a mark on him. Obviously in you too but he was the one voicing it. 

"Let's get out of here" his nose nudges your own, his eyes closed as he moves a tad backward and his back hits the wall, his arms still tightly secured around your frame holding you close to him. 

"I work tomorrow, silly" you say as your arms go around him. You might have had two or three Sangrias…and some other drink you forgot the name of. 

"Just another hour or so" he says and his eyes open to look at you. "Just us" and his hands start roaming down your waist. 

"I know you, and it won't be an hour."

"You just look so good, princess. I could take you right here…" a shiver runs down your spine at his words being whispered into your ear. You had to resist. 

"And you look very handsome, babe" you run a hand through his hair. It was true. His baggy pants and loose shirts along with his cap and jewelry. He really knew how to dress up. "But we have to go soon. I work early." 

He groans, "Okay" he kisses your lips, pulling you in before pulling away and licking your bottom lip before his teeth catch it, his hands groping your behind in sync. 

"Ney" he pulls you close and you could almost feel him through his jeans. 

"Yes?" He asks once he lets go of your lip. Then his phone goes off, a groan leaving his lips in annoyance before reaching for it and looking at you. 

"Her?" He stays silent. "Just answer it" you pull away from his embrace, stealing a glance at his phone and noticing she was video calling him. 

"I won't-"

"Just go outside and answer, I'll stay here" your heart was beating wildly against your chest in anger. Why was she still calling him? Was it soon for you to start getting jealous about it?

Once the party was over, he dropped you off at your house to then go to his. Your mood had completely changed and it was a mixture of confusion, jealousy and maybe even anger. Yet you weren't ready for Neymar's call. 

"You driving?" You ask curiously. 

"Yeah," he pauses and you are just waiting for him to finish. "She showed up at my house."

"I'm sorry?"

"She wanted to talk and we did. You have nothing to worry about. I just escorted her to her house."

"What?" Your head was spinning. 

"Its late, I can't just let her drive by herself." It was 2am! 

"Oh, she forgot her way around or something?" Yeah. You were getting mad. 

"I would've done the same for you."

"Except that I wouldn't be bothering you after we broke up" you snap. "Look, I work in a few hours so just….bye."

"Princess, list-" and you just press the red button and toss your phone to the side. 

First the random video call and now she shows up at his place. And he doesn't seem to be telling her to stop looking for him. What's next? Cause this was starting to get on your nerves…

[bewilderedbunny]

Line cook Eddie part 3!

Hi friends! I was not expecting to write this so soon after part 2, but I'm rolling with it. Hope you enjoy it!! 💖 (the word counter I used says this is 666 words, thought that was cute) Flirty fluff, light sexual innuendo, cursing, sort of a bit of angst but not really. Eddie x fem!reader but feel free to switch the pronouns if you'd like ☺️ I had to include ABBA in this because I am a Mamma Mia! fan first and a human being second.

Credit to @delishlydelightfuldividers for the divider 💕

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

During a morning shift, a middle-aged man comes into the diner. He's a bit quiet but polite. He has his "please and thank yous" down pat. You check up on him during his meal and ask how everything is.

"Wonderful, my compliments to the chef." he says.

You smile and say, "He'll be so excited to hear that."

The older man looks up at you and says, "I would mention to him to cut back on the salt a bit. He has done a number on my blood pressure enough as it is." as he says that you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder.

"Hey pops. Was my girl good to you?"

You realize this must be Wayne, Eddie doesn't talk about him often but when he does it's with adoration.

"She was great. It's good to put a face to the name since you're always talkin' 'bout her."

Eddie laughs, a little too loud and you giggle at the pink on his cheeks.

One day during your break you step outside to get some fresh air. You can hear Eddie talking to someone near the dumpster.

"You like that, sweetheart? Look at you. You're just the cutest thing I've ever seen." Your heart aches, aren't you supposed to be the cutest thing he's ever seen? You know he's a big flirt with everyone, but you thought you were special. You quietly creep around the corner and when you finally see him you want to cry. He's squatted behind the dumpster feeding chicken to a scruffy little cat while rubbing its back. It's not even scraps from a customer's meal, this son of a bitch cooked a chicken breast for a kitten who, upon further inspection, reminds you of Wayne with its greyish fur and blue eyes.

He walks you to your car after your shift. He started doing it one night the two of you were working and hasn't stopped. Even when you're leaving before him, he walks you out and then goes back inside.

"I'm in a band, y'know?" He says, drying silverware. He's facing you and has his hip pressed against the counter.

"Oh yeah? An ABBA cover band?" You joke.

"How'd you guess? We do a cover of "Chiquitita" that'll knock your socks off."

You stop rinsing cutlery and look at him.

"I know you're kidding, but I love that song."

"Yeah?" He says, turning away from you. He's known it's your favorite for weeks. You were humming throughout your shift once and he spent the following day at the record store trying to figure out what song it was. He eventually went up to an employee and hummed it to them until they could help him find it. He bought the goddamn ABBA record.

You lightly flick him with water and he acts like you've just waterboarded him, stumbling around and gasping for breath. He reaches toward the faucet and flicks you back, he throws more water than you had and you gasp, "You're getting me wet!" His eyes get huge and he starts to giggle. When you realize why you giggle right along with him.

You come in for your dinner shift one day and notice a stack of papers at the register. You pick one up and see a sketch of a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon is guarding various food items like pancakes, milkshakes, burgers, and fries. All of the papers are copies of this drawing and next to the stack, there is an old box of crayons. You ask your coworker what this is, and she says Eddie brought them in this morning to give kids something to entertain themselves with while they wait for their food. You can't wait to hand them out and you save any colored in pages for the next time you have a shift together so you can show him what a hit they were.

Thanks for reading 🥞💖

[skyfallslayer]

The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 7 (Part 1)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)

Story Summary: Part 1 -  While Kaila tries to balance between a new friendship and nightmares about Fisk, Matt is dealing with a new player in the ring. And unfortunately he says things he ends up regretting (Set during 2x01 and 2x02, “Bang” and “Dogs to a Gunfight”).

Date: 1/27/23

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10,771 (Jesus, this is long 0.0)

Warning: Fast Paced Story; Possible OOC (?); Karedevil (my otp); The Murdocks Are Stubborn People Who Can't Ask For Help; Matt Being a Bad Dad (?); Kaila Being Bratty (?); Gunshot Wound; Near Death Experience; Minor Blood; Nightmares; Unhealthy Coping; Brief Allusions To A Suicide Attempt; Guilty; Talks of Murders and Murdering; A Brief Allusion to a Mass Killing; Heavy Angst; Heavy Language; Karen and Foggy Are The MVPs Here (Seriously); READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

- Let me know if I missed anything, please.

A/N: I told you guys this season was going to get even more angsty *evil laugh*. So, sorry, not sorry. But I will apologize that this seems fast paced. This was an episode I wanted to write about since you know, this is where the season immediately gets interesting. Like the Punisher shows up, and there's a bit of a deeper change in Matt's demeaner/persona; And it was something I wanted to focus on. All my stories in this season might have a fast pace to them since the season did, but will see. And pay attention to little details I sprinkle out, It might come handy later on in the series *hint*hint*.

But if you want to start where things get interesting, go back to the story: "No Good Deeds...". There's an easter egg there that might shine some light about what's yet to come.

Anyway! I don't want to delay you guys anymore. Enjoy!

She watched the water turn red as it went down the drain, the stream sending her in a trance. She stared at it, lost in a familiar, familiar scene. The bloody water, the goosebumps lingering on her skin, the feeling of being paralyzed. The feeling she kept on getting herself into.

.

.

““You arrogant, arrogant little girl.”” Wesley snarled, straddling her.

.

““You little, fucking—””

.

““Give me the goddamn gun!”” He snaps, grabbing her by the ankles, and pulls her towards him.

.

““You…”” He pants, with blood lust eyes. ““Are going to WISH that I grabbed Miss Page after when I’m through with you. When Mr. Fisk is through with you. You’ll just be another body to rot in the Hudson.””

.

A loud bang echoed off the walls of the warehouse. 

And what she thought for a split second was rain douching her cheeks was the color red.

Her eyes widened as she dared to meet his as the smoke from the barrel started to evaporate.

With a large gaping hole where his heart starts to bleed, and Wesley's shocked expression looking at it before going back to her gaze.

And then…

The light goes out his eyes.

And–

.

.

“Kaila?” Someone said, touching her shoulder.

The brunette jolts and blinks in the direction of her surprise-er. She could see the worried expression on her coworker Mandy. “W-What…?” Kaila said, slowly coming out of her haze.

“I was asking if your hand’s okay? You’ve been standing under the water for like ten minutes now.” Mandy explains, her auburn eyebrows pushed together like a worried mother.

Kaila blinks again, shaking her head and looking down at her hand. The skin around the swallow cut on her palm was starting to look like a raisin. She had been cutting up potatoes when someone behind her dropped something made of glass. She zoned out so bad that she didn’t notice she sliced her hand open on the blade; Nor did she realize she was staring at the water for so long either.

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. Just… in the clouds, I guess.” She replies, turning off the faucet, and grabs a handful of paper towels.

“Just checking.” Mandy said, holding out a roll of gauze. 

“Thanks.” Kaila pat dry the excess water off before wrapping her hand, sliding a rubber glove on afterwards. “I wonder what Mr. Powell wants me to do now?”

Speaking of the boss, he comes around the corner, holding a food crate up. His eyes brighten upon seeing her. “Oh, Kaila. You bandaged up? That’s good. I want you to show the new guy around the place, okay?”

“Sure thing, sir.”

“Great. He’s in my office. Mandy, I–”

Kaila parted ways with them, heading towards the back of the kitchen for his office. She sighs with relief, hoping that whoever this new person was could keep her mind out of the fog. She really, really could deal with any more accidental injuries she seems to be getting herself in (People were starting to ask certain questions that weren’t remotely true). When she arrived the door was already open which she used to stroll inside with ease, plastering a kind expression on her face.

“Alright, I heard we got a newbie today–” She began, but the words died on her lips when she locked eyes with -not-so-much-a-newbie- him. He seemed just as shocked as she was upon this reunion. “Oh, I remember you. You’re the Cali boy.”

The raven haired chuckled, standing up from his chair. “Yeah, that’s me. Coffee girl…” He snaps his fingers as a light bulb goes off. “Kaila, right?”

She nods. “That’s me. You’re… Jayden?”

He points at her with a wink. “Bingo.”

“So… are you officially living here now?” Kaila asked, curiously as she recalled their conversation from a while ago.

“Just moved back. Turns out my mother just can’t stay away.” Jayden says, smiling. “So, you a manager or something?”

“Hell no. You think I can manage all these people?” She steps forward and whispers, “Some of them are a handful. My hair’s already turning gray from it.”

He snorts. “I knew I should have taken that janitor job. Well, I’m assuming you’re showing me the ropes, so lead the way.”

Her heart skips a beat. “With pleasure.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The summer was hot. Really hot. Hotter than it's been in a long time. So while the younger Murdock was off cooking in a distant kitchen, her Father and Uncle were strolling through the city with sweat stains up and down their backs, occasionally expressing their discomfort.

Well…

Some more than others.

“You ever wake up in the morning from the second you get out of bed, it's like every molecule in your body hurts?” Foggy sighs, a look of suffering on his features.

Matt on the other hand smirked and shook his head. “No, never.”

“I'm in agony, dude.”

“What? Did you go back to the gym?”

Foggy scoffed. “Hell, no. Do I look capable of making healthy life choices? I went out, Matthew. Went out dancing.”

Matt tilts his head, skeptical, despite knowing it was the truth. “I'm choosing not to believe that.”

“And yet, it's true.”

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you insane?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me it was the barista.”

Foggy chuckles, and quickly waves to a few passing people who recognized him. “Her name is Bethany… and she is very limber.”

Matt threw his head back in amusement. “Oh! You're my hero.” He replies, squeezing his friend’s bicep as they cross the road. “So, uh, when's the next date?”

And then came the frowning. “Well, therein lies the true pain.” 

And the over exaggerated reply, “No!”

“Yes.” The Nelson’s shoulders sagged. “One and done. End of the night, she hugged me like a cousin and said, ‘I'll call you’.”

“Oh, that's brutal.” The Blind Man pitied. 

“You know what my problem is?”

“Well, it ain't the moves.”

“You know I got the moves. That's the tragedy of you being blind, you've never seen me dance.”

“Yeah, but I can cite the legends I heard in law school. So come on, what is it? What's the problem?”

“No wingman. You never come out with me anymore. Could you imagine Nelson and Murdock on the dance floor?”

Matt snickers. “I can't deny that it doesn't sound epic.”

“Then come out with me, Matt.” Foggy urges, using his whole body to emphasize his point.

He holds his fingers up on his cane, trying to stop his best friend’s roll. “All right.”

“Come on, just one time, me and you…” Foggy trails off, halting them both.

“What is it?” Matt asked, sensing the worriedness and the sour expression. 

“You're bleeding.” Foggy said, pulling out a handkerchief, shifting to get a better look.

“Huh. Where?” Matt asked, confused. How did he not smell that?

“Base of the skull.”

“Did you get it?”

“No one's gonna notice, if that's what you mean.” Nelson said after dabbing the spot gently a few times.

“Thank you.” Murdock replies, slinging his arm around his again before walking.

“I hate this.” Foggy admits after a minute of silence.

“We don't need to talk about it.” Matt suggests.

“Good thinking. You know, Karen's been asking questions. The cuts, the scrapes, the bruises.”

“What do you tell her?”

“You have a drinking problem.”

“That's horrible.”

“Well, it's more plausible than you putting on a devil suit and beating the shit out of strangers.” Foggy explains with a shrug. “I can’t exactly use the excuse that you and your daughter like to roughhouse each other anymore.”

“Well–” Matt half shrugs. “That’s not exactly far from the truth. We still wrestle occasionally.” 

“Yeah… but she’s, what? Fifthteen?” Foggy pauses, before confirming it on his own. “Yeah, she just turned fifthteen. A full grown teenager vs a grown man turns some heads no matter how you put it. You know I tried using that excuse with some other people that know us and I might have caused some concerns.”

Matt’s brows pushed together, puzzled. “How?”

“Well… I think some folks suspected… abuse was going on.”

“Child or domestic abuse?”

“I think a little of both. But, Hey, if you keep beating up your body the way you do, Matt, I guess you could consider it elder abuse.”

Matt bites his tongue with a smile. “Oh… you think you’re so funny, huh?” He asked, before pinching the man in the side.

Foggy jerks slightly. “Ow. You’re mean.”

“Oh, I know.”

The beach blond’s smile fades. “You know, this whole thing isn't just your problem anymore. And I'm past worrying about the broken bones, and finding you beaten into a coma. What about us?”

“Nelson and Murdock?”

“You ever stop to think what happens if you get caught? At best, you'll be disbarred.”

“Then you'll continue to do the good work we started together.” Matt said, starting his delusions again.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Foggy asked, stopping them again. “You're my partner. I don't wanna continue alone.”

“Foggy… last week, a client came to our office, Zuly Almeida. Claimed her life was in danger. We had no legal recourse to offer.”

He nods. “I remember.”

“You recommended an excellent shelter for battered women.”

“And she went.”

“Yeah, she tried.” Matt says with a frown. “That night, her husband found out she wanted to leave him, and he followed her to the bus stop with a gut full of beer and a butcher knife in his hand.”

Foggy copies his expression. “You never told me that.”

“Well, I'm telling you now. Mr. Almeida walked out of his apartment with the intention to hack Mrs. Almeida into many bloody pieces starting by taking off her head. Guess what? Never happened.” A ghost of a smile covered Matt’s lips. “Instead, he woke up in a hospital with two broken arms and a restraining order safety-pinned to his chest.”

Foggy lets out a puff of air. “Jesus, Matt.”

“If I take a night off, people get hurt.”

“I don't wanna lose you.”

“You won't.”

“Promise me.”

Matt chuckles humorously. “You want me to cross my heart?”

“Do not make fun of me.” Foggy warned, but a smile played on his lips. 

The brunette straightens up, drawing a cross on his chest. “I swear.” He promises, and tugs his friend along. “Come on. Let's get to work.”

“Yeah, I gotta get out of this heat.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Kaila readjusted the straps on her backpack for the millionth time as she strode along the concrete road. The sun was starting to set, the air was a bit cooler but still humid, and her fingers were twitching around the mace in her pocket.

Someone was following her. Or…

At least she thinks someone is.

She’s become even more paranoid now since the whole kidnapping incident a few months back. Sometimes, she doesn’t mean to go into a state of paranoia, she doesn't want to, but any little thing that could mimic that night would send her into it. 

She hates it. Really hates it. But what can she do? There is so much, and so little, she can talk about the situation with Karen. And just talking about it with her is making her feel guilty about it. But Karen kept telling her it was fine, she told her to talk about it. But could she keep doing it? Does she need to explain? Does she need a therapist? A rehab group (do they have one for people who commit (accidental) murders)? Can she talk to Foggy? What would he say? Would he be mad? Disappointed? Would he turn her in? Would he refuse to be her lawyer if that happens? And what about her dad? Could she finally come clean? Or if she does, would he be mad? Or will he march down to prison and choke Fisk out?

She mentally slaps herself, thinking that all those options were stupid. 

Scary.

She didn’t even realize she was picking up her pace. 

I just gotta get home, then I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay–

She sucked in a deep breath as goosebumps lingered on her arms, and–

.

.

““You said you were going to kill him. Fisk.””

.

.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, God.

There was someone right behind her, coming in hot.

I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be–

Someone was practically touching her shoulder when–

Kaila spins on her heels, holding her mace as she deflects her attacker’s hand with a harsh hit. She immediately sees her ‘attacker’ holding both his hands up, looking surprised more than upset. 

“Whoa, easy with the pepper spray. I come in peace, I swear.” Jayden said, with an amused look.

Kaila blinks several times before relaxing. “Oh… Jesus, it’s you.” She says, somehow hearing herself through the pounding of her heart in her ears.

He chuckles. “Not… quite Jesus, but thanks for the compliment.” He soon holds out a small phone with a glittery cover. “You left your phone there.”

Subconsciously she touches the pocket it usually would be in, and for obvious reasons it wasn’t there. She sighs and hangs her head low. “Well, I’m an idiot.” She mumbles before taking it. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “No worries. I tried calling out your name a few times, but I guess you didn’t hear me. In fact, you actually sped up, and let me say that you’re hella fast.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just in my head. Again.” Kaila replies, embarrassed. She sighs again. “You're probably going to have to walk pretty far now, aren’t you?”

Another shrug. “Eh, I don’t mind. I could use the exercise.”

She chuckles dry. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“All… easy going. You don’t have to pretend to not be upset.”

“Well… I’m not. This is how I really am. Easy going.” Jayden says, smiling with a bit of a wicked look on his face. “You’re just going to deal with that when we’re slinging burgers together.”

“Burger slinging is a very stressful job, Mr. Jayden. Are you sure your easy going attitude can handle that?” Kaila teased, copying his expression. 

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it, Miss K.”

“Sure I’m not going to find you crying in the walk-in?”

“If I do, I expect you, and only you, to find me and pick up the pieces. Or at least slap me in the back of the head and tell me to man up.”

“Oh…” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I kind of have my hands full in that department. But I might be able to pencil you in somewhere.”

He laughs, throwing his head back before she bursts. Their laughing fit probably lasted a solid minute before they regained their composure.

“Thanks again for bringing me my phone.” Kaila says, earning a nod as a reply.

“Don’t mention it. You working tomorrow?” Jayden asked, sounding hopefully.

“Suppose to.”

“Well that’s good. I like working with you.”

She felt her cheeks run hot, as she chuckled nervously. “Uh, I like working with you, too. Um…” She holds her phone back out, sheepishly. “Wanna keep in touch?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He fishes his own phone out so they create a contact for one another before swapping back. “Just gonna warn you I mostly reply to texts with an emoji or a shitty meme.”

She snorts. “I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”

“Well that’s good, because my only friend at this moment is my turtle.”

“Okay, that’s fucking sad.” She tugs on her backpack straps again, straightening herself up. “Well, I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow.” He said, and they parted ways.

And from there, and to the whole way back to the apartment, Kaila had a new skip in her step and a smile that went ear-to-ear.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Come on, you've done this before. Just go for it.” Karen whispers into his ear, encouragingly. 

Matt grins wider before pulling back his cue stick slightly before releasing it forward, hitting a pool ball which knocked the lucky one in. It dropped into the hole just as Foggy was coming out of the bathroom.

“No!!” He cried in defeat.

Matt's eyes widened and eyebrows shot up as he glanced at his helper. “That good, huh?”

“Sunk the eight ball.” Karen replies with a giggle.

“Well, something went in.”

“I’ll tell you what. You boys re-rack, I will, uh, buy rounds for the rematch.” She clasps her hands together and leaves for the counter as Foggy watches her with amusement.

“I leave you two alone for one minute…” He starts teasing.

“She wanted to teach me.” Matt replies, defensively. But he could just sense the huge goofy smile on his friend’s face. “What?” He finishes shooting the last pool balls in, hearing a shake of his head.

“Show off. But seriously–” Foggy takes a step forward. “You should go for it. I think it’ll be good for you. And your daughter likes her, so that’s a plus.”

Matt would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about moving in that direction with her. But the thought of dragging her into his… other lifestyle sat heavy in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t know Foggy. I–”

“Nah, ah.” Foggy cuts in, waving him off. “Stop thinking like the other guy, and think like Matt Murdock. Okay?”

Matt gives a small nod which was good enough for Foggy. The two of them begin cleaning up for the next game when an alarming heartbeat catches the vigilante’s attention. He tilts his head, the thumping coming from someone sitting at the bar counter, occasionally sneaking glances in this direction.

Matt frowns. “Hey, Foggy. The guy at the bar looking this way, you know him?”

Hazel eyes take a quick look. “No. Why? What’s his deal?” Foggy asked, worriedly.

But the Murdock tried to look casual, taking a small sip from his beer before answering. “Adrenaline's high. His heart rate’s out of control.”

The sandy haired man shrugs it off. “Well, he is sitting next to Karen.”

“There’s something in his coat.”

“Coat? Hot room? I don’t need fancy senses to know he’s probably packing.” Foggy tries to brush it away, but when his friend takes a few huge steps forward, he decides to put the sarcasm in his back pocket. “Wait, Matt, don’t make a thing. Half the people in here are carrying guns."

“Yeah, but none of them have their finger tapping the trigger.” Matt explains leaving.

He walks by Karen who thanks Josie and goes back to their spot, oblivious to what her friend was about to do. Matt carefully comes up next to him, holding the cue stick close as his only protection for whatever may come.

“You, uh, new here, friend?”

“No, actually.” The man replies, getting tense.

“Hey, it’s alright. Look, I’m just…” Matt briefly pauses to find the right words/right approach. “I’m just letting you know, this is a good place. With good people. A lot of places a guy like you could drink. Just saying.”

The man shamefully looks away. “It’s not what you think. I got business here. With Nelson and Murdock.” He confidently looks back his way, saying, “You must be the blind one.”

Matt held back the urge to sigh out loud.

Great. He thought in disbelief. His mind wanders back to his friends, his kid, his nightly activities, and how this was supposed to be an actual night off for once. No work, just a chance at letting loose after so long. Not to mention he even promised his daughter they watch (hear, in his case) a movie together.

He decides to settle for a mental sigh instead.

Well, so much for all that.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

She knew her father was going out to the bar and promised to be back home any time before eleven, but when she got the text telling her that Nelson and Murdock had a new client, she knew he wouldn’t be home. Cause even if this client is part of her Father and Uncle’s business, she knows her own dad well enough that’ll somehow get the Devil involved. 

But… just out of curiosity, or rather boredom, she checked anyway.

She lifted the lid of the chest, and the only thing that was left there was her Grandfather’s boxer uniform; There were no signs of the crimson and black horned suit anywhere.

She frowns.

Great. So he lied to me about leaving it here.

She closes it gently out of respect for her dead grandparent, but slams the doors on the wardrobe it was in. Her father had promised her to start coming back home every time to change so he can go out scouting (well, he calls it that, she calls it fighting), and so he can tell her where he was going and how late he would be back. 

She sighs. “Why am I like this? It’s not like he’s been doing this often. Let’s see, he did it today, twice last week, and–” 

Before she knows it she runs out of fingers… and toes.

Ouch.

So he has broken their rule a lot.

She sighs again as she plops down on her bed. It’s already late, and she knows it's late and she has to get up in the morning for work, but she can’t help it! She can’t just go to sleep without knowing where he is and what he is doing. But reading stories and watching videos on her phone could only get her -already- exhausted self so far.

Before she knows it, it's already passed one, and her father still hasn’t returned. She rubs her tired eyes with her hands and decides to call it a night. She lays her phone on her nightstand, turning off the lamp and curling up the covers at the suddenly chilly air. 

Weird. But she brushed it to the side, pulling the silky sheets up closer to her face, holding back the urge to shiv–

“It’s a difficult thing that I see you still haven’t accepted.”

Her brown eyes snap open, and her whole body jolts up on the spot. She… She can’t breathe at the sight of the man sitting at the edge of her bed, looking so innocent despite him breaking and entering.

“Just accept what happened, accept what you’ve done so it can stop eating you alive.” Fisk said, as cool and calm as ever.

Kaila shook her head. “I… I can’t. I…” Her throat felt tighter than ever, like an invisible string was wrapping itself around her vocal cords.

“But you have to. It’s part of life. It’s part of living here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I-It’s really not.”

“Murdock.” He blissfully whispers. “You’ve got a lot of history in that name. Jack Murdock, a famous boxer until the day he died. Matt Murdock, a famous lawyer who never stops until the job is done. And finally, Kaila Murdock, a murderer. Two generations of great people, and then there’s you. The killer.”

She shook her head again, tears threatening to fall. “S-So what? I’m still a good person. I know I am.”

Fisk sighs, shifting his weight on the bed so he was facing her more. “You think I’m still a good person after killing my own father? After killing everyone who’s hurt me? Do you think I'm still good?”

She sobs and holds her tongue. How was she supposed to reply to that? Did he want her to tell him the truth? To tell him he was–

“I know I’m a monster.” He admits, tilting his head with a look of pity. “I know deep down you think you are too. So just say it. Say that you’re a monster.”

She tightens her jaw, trying to look disgusted while saying, “I’m not like you. Not even close. I’m NOTHING like you!!”

Fisk lowers his head, disappointed by this outcome. “That’s a shame. I thought it would be nice, having a prodigy to take under my wing. To shape. I could use one since… you know? You took away the person I hold dear about.”

She paled and prayed her lip wasn’t quivering. “I… I t-told you I di-didn’t mean to.”

Fisk scooted closer, causing her to push herself as far as she could against her headboard. “Then prove it. Say it.”

“But I-I’m not…”

“SAY IT!!” He snaps, his large fist missing her foot by an inch, making her retract her legs up to her chest. “Say it… and I’ll leave.”

She sobs, tears rolling down her cheek. “I’m…” A shaky breath. “I’m… I’m a monster…”

He sighs longly, making sure his gaze stays on her. “Oh, Miss Murdock…” There was something wicked in his eyes. “That’s good enough.”

Then his hand snags her throat–

.

.

.

Kaila wakes up screaming, limbs thrashing around like a maniac, a small hope that'll knock her intrude away. But all she felt was the air, and the hot sun hitting her sweaty face. She frantically looked around her room while sounding like she just ran a marathon. 

She was alone. Just her and the empty room. 

Alone.

Shaky fingers tapped her phone screen showing off a few things like the time, her alarm that hasn’t gone off yet, something about a hospital shoot and–

She groans and lets her face fall into her hands.

I was doing so well, I was doing so well. What went wrong? What did she do differently last night? What could have caused her to have a nightmare? Was it from her cutting her hand? Was it from worrying about her dad?

Dad. Oh shit, I hope I didn’t wake him up. I…

Then it hit her.

Why didn't he run into her room? He must have her heart racing and her twisting and turning in bed, so how come he hasn’t dashed in here yet?

She lets her hands slip from her confused face. “Dad?” She calls out and gets no reply.

She wastes no time to go have a look. He finds his bed still made in the same fashion as yesterday, and the window she unlocked for him was untouched; His cane or briefcase was nowhere to be found; His suit was still missing; He didn’t eat his usual breakfast nor did he shower or brush his teeth. 

What the hell, Dad? She thought before having no other choice but to pick up the phone and give him a call.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Foggy was back out in the early morning heat, briskly walking as he held his cellphone to his ear. “Good. Stay there… Matt? No. I haven't seen him since last night… I'll let him know what's going on. Meet you at the precinct. And don't let anyone talk to Grotto until then.” He hangs up on Karen just as he approaches a crowd of people in front of the hospital.

A female reporter was there, loudly speaking to the camera, and saying, “It was a normal evening at Metro-General when a lone gunman entered and began firing into the crowd. Most of the patients are being moved to other area hospitals.”

The lawyer finds himself with a sour expression. He knew what happened here last night because of Karen, but he didn’t realize how extensive the damage really was. 

Damn. Who was this guy? He thought, before hearing his name being called from behind.

“Foggy!!” Kaila yells, brushing through the crowd, not even bothering to say ‘sorry’. She runs up close to him before her hands find their way to her knees, leaning forward to catch her breath.

“K-Pop?” He said, confused. “I thought you were at work?”

“I…” She exhales slowly. “I called off sick.”

“Why? You got the flu? You need a doctor? I can take you–”

“No! I’m fine, Foggy! I swear.” Kaila says, standing straighter. “But I don’t think my dad is.”

“What do you mean by that?” Foggy asked, with a brow raised.

“Have you seen him?”

“What?”

“Have you seen my dad?” She asked, urgently. “He didn’t come home last night. I fell asleep around one o’clock waiting for him, but when I woke up there were no signs of him being there. His bed’s still the same way, his briefcase is still gone, and so is his tailored suit. I… I tried calling him but he won’t pick up and… I-I don’t know what to do.”

“He didn’t come home from his night of boxing?” Foggy asked, using the coded words they both came up with (an easier way of talking about it in public if needed so). 

She shakes her head. “No.”

Just before they could say anything more, a nearby police officer’s radio started to chatter:

‘Investigators say The building's clear. Perp is not in the building. Standby to lift lockdown.’

‘All units hold position.’

‘We have a report of shots fired earlier on a rooftop up on 10th.’

Kaila and Foggy both glanced at each other with fearful eyes before bolting off in the direction of tenth avenue. 

“Come with me!” He said as they arrived at the first building on the street. 

The young girl stops at the foot of the stairs as he climbs them. “Why don’t we split up? I’ll take half of the buildings and you take–”

“No! I don’t know what happened last night, but if there’s a mad gunman on the loose I don't want you wandering around alone. Come on!” He waves to follow along as he presses a random button on the call box.

Many, many call boxes will follow, all coming up with a random excuse to get inside and check the rooftops.

“I lost my keys!”

“My wife took my pair.”

“My kid locked me out.”

Each building’s rooftop they stepped foot on seemed hopeless, and they were starting to wonder if Matt even got involved in whatever happened at the Hospital last night, until…

“Oh, shit.” Foggy muttered just as he brushes a hung up sheet away from its line. His eyes widened as he froze with fear.

Kaila gives him a look. “What?” She said, walking around him before gasping. 

He starts shaking his head, taking off towards the motionless body on the ground. “No, no, no, no, no.” 

“Dad!!” She screams, following right behind him. 

“No! Matt!” Foggy throws his bag aside, falling to his knees as he starts rolling his friend on his back. “Come on, Matt, wake up. You okay, Matt? Come on!”

“Dad!?” Kaila chokes, hands grasping the air, not sure what to even do. “Dad! Please, get up! Get up!”

“For Christ’s sake, Matt, Get up! Matt! Matt, come on! Wake up. Wake up for us! Come on!” He carefully peels off the helmet, watching his friend’s head lag around in his lap. “Matt, can you breathe? Matt?”

“Dad?”

But the older Murdock was unresponsive, his lifeless eyes stared at the crisp blue sky, as his bloody mouth opened and closed like a fish. Kaila places her hands on the back of her head, panicking; But Foggy tries to see if he gets some kind of sound from him.

“Matt? Can you get up? Matt, please answer me. Matt?”

But he didn’t say anything.

He just started seizing. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The duo grew awfully quiet after patching up the reckless man that was currently passed out on his couch. There was nothing else to do except wait for him to awake. Foggy was keeping himself busy by snooping around the kitchen, while Kaila found herself staring at the damaged found on her father’s helmet. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know what it was from. She couldn’t believe the fact that her father was shot. IN.THE.HEAD. 

In the head.

He almost… almost…

He almost died. Those words dawned on her and she didn’t know what to do with them. She finds herself tightening her grip on the dome, almost angry, betrayed and–

“Hey, Foggy, can I get some aspirin?” Was the first thing Matt said as he came to.

Foggy stops what he was doing to return an angry glare. “You sure you don’t need an x-ray? Maybe a psych eval?” He replies, bitterly.

“An aspirin’s fine, Buddy.” Matt said, adjusting himself. The movement made him groan. “Kai, I thought you were supposed to be at work?”

“She would be, but since her Father got shot in the head she thought this was more important than making a few bones.” Foggy snapped as he filled up a glass of water. “You’re lucky you’re not in the morgue.”

The brunette chuckles. “It was just a dumb mistake, man.”

“What?”

“The gun on his ankle, I… I should’ve heard it, you know. I should’ve felt it.”

Foggy blinks. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s fast, this guy, Foggy, he’s… he’s trained.” 

“He’s a lunatic, Matt. I went to the hospital. I saw what he did.”

“Where’s Karen?”

Foggy shakes his head in disbelief, coming to stand in front of the couch. “We’ve been through this.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Matt realizes, and closes his eyes again. “Yeah, you sure… you sure she’s okay?”

“She got Grotto to the NYPD. We’re gonna meet there, make a deal with the DA.”

“Thanks.” Matt takes the aspirin and gulps it down with the water. He sits up a bit straighter, a way of him showing everyone else he’s pulling himself together. “Thanks, buddy. I’m gonna put on some pants.”

“No.” Foggy scolds immediately.

“It’s okay. I know we need to get going.”

“‘WE’ don’t need to do anything.”

“Foggy, I don’t wanna do this right now.” Matt complains as he stands up.

But Foggy wasn’t having it as he started furiously pointing at the blind man. “Karen’s safe, you’re safe… and our client will be safe within the hour. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Except the shooter. He’s still walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“He’s the cops’ problem now.”

Matt scoffs. “He’s gonna plow right through the cops.”

Foggy’s jaw tightens. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You saw what he did to the Irish, you didn’t see what he did to the Mexican Cartel. He hung them on meat hooks, and he left them there to die.”

“You want another round.”

“Blood is being shed, Foggy.”

“And you’ve donated more than your fair share to the cause.”

“I need to stop him.”

“You need to get rest. Okay? And when you wake up, you need to consider putting that thing back in whatever wacko box it came from. Better yet…”

Foggy trails off, taking a few steps to grab the devil suit off the ground. Which seemed like it was a bad idea as Matt was quicker to grab part of it, and pull his friend towards him, threateningly. From behind the two, Kaila watched in a state of dubiety at the way her father became possessive of the suit. It made her feel…

“Let go.” Matt warned.

Foggy’s shocked expression faded into anger. “You first.” He said, but that didn’t happen as it was completely taken from his hands. “I don’t wanna do this again.”

“Then don’t.”

“You know what would’ve happened if someone caught the three of us stumbling home? You wearing that thing?”

“And I appreciate you both. You taking care of me.”

“You should.”

“But when the cops try to take this guy down, it’s gonna be one hell of a fight, lives are gonna be lost. This guy’s not gonna go down easy. I need to help.” Matt replies, and what a surprise it was when he sounded dead serious.

Foggy sighs with a small shake of his dome. “You look like shit. Stay here. Get some rest. We don’t need people asking questions we don’t have answers to. I’ve covered for you enough as it is. And for now, let the NYPD and the DA do their jobs. And trust me to do mine! Okay?” 

He watches as Matt nods, but he knew deep down he wasn’t going to stay away. So as much as he hated pulling this card out, he thought at least it’ll get Matt to think before doing so.

Foggy takes a step closer, lowering his voice to just a whisper so only Matt could hear. “Also, I’m serious about you thinking about putting the wacko to bed. Because I swear to whatever’s out there, Matt, do not orphan your kid. Because I will wear a red tux to your funeral, and stomp on your grave, damning you to fucking hell.”

He takes a step back, not even waiting for a reaction as he looks at the teenager in the kitchen. “Make sure you keep an eye on him, Kai.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry.” Kaila said, which was enough for her Uncle to gather his things and leave the apartment. Once he leaves she steps away from the counter, leaving behind his broken helmet as she heads for the bathroom. “I’m going to get a towel.”

“For what?” Matt asked, confused.

“To wipe that caked on blood off your face.”

Puzzled by her reply, Matt found him feeling around until he found the source on his head, realizing some of it was still fresh and warm. He cocks his head.

“Huh…”

He didn’t even notice.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt had waited for his daughter to take out the trash before breaking the rule of moving around. It wasn’t like he was going on a run, all he needed was to fill up his glass of water. He stiffly walks to the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet just as a car passed by. For the first time since his childhood, all the noise got extremely loud to an unbearable level.

Matt winces as the horn and the creaking pipes beneath his feet. He immediately shuts off the water, his pounding head was now back up to a ten. He carefully moves away, taking deep breaths as he guides himself to the floating self nearby, placing his cup down. He waits until the ringing subsided before reaching for more aspirin. 

The sound of unscrewing the top was fine, but not when he drops the pills onto his countertop. Their bouncing made his head pound in rhythm, the ringing came back, sending him in a wave of confusion that made him knock his glass off the shelf. Out of instinct he tries to grab it, but it slips past his fingers and straight to the floor. The sound of breaking glass…

Was never heard.

Reality struck him hard as he realized he couldn’t hear anything. But he can’t be deaf… right?

No.

He can’t be deaf and blind, right? That…

That’ll be just cruel. Why would God take his hearing as well? The one sense he so desperately needs. Why would he become…

Matt finds a wall to slide down to the ground with, and with widened eyes he begins to scream. A silent scream he couldn’t hear, but he keeps doing it out of desperation.

I can’t be deaf, I can’t be deaf, I can’t be deaf, I can’t be deaf, I can’t be deaf, I can’t be deaf–

Someone’s in his house. 

Or at least someone’s running towards his apartment at a fast rate. But who? He can’t hear what their footsteps sound like, or their heartbeat, he can’t even smell because of his nosebleeds; All he can make out below his bare feet was the small ‘earthquakes’ this person was making every time they moved. Their–

Someone’s at the door, and maybe it was just desperation, or maybe it was something like fear, but he screamed what hopefully was the words: ‘Help’. 

The air changes for a split second, he hopes that it was the front door opening and closing. 

Then he feels someone landing roughly next to him, their hands were grasping the open the air and–

Oh, God they’re touching him.

He tries pushing them away, his fight or flight senses kicking in instead of just letting this person help him. But what if they aren’t here to help him? What if they’re here to harm? What if he’s defenseless to stop whoever… oh wait, what if it’s the gunman? What if he’s here to finish him off? What if he can’t–

“Dad!!” Kaila yells, trying to get him to call down, to get him to stop screaming his head off. “Dad! Dad, it’s me! It’s me, Dad! Why are you screaming?!”

Never in her entire life she’s ever heard him scream like this before. This ear piercing, soul crushing scream that was on borderline hysteria. He sounded so desperate, so miserable when he was crying for help. But help for what? What did he need help for?

“Dad? Dad, can you hear me? Dad?” She kept asking, and kept reaching out for him. She eventually got a hold of one of his wrists, not tightly but enough for him to slip out of her grip if he would like. “Dad? What do ypu need help with? Can you–”

“Get away from me!!” He snaps, trying to scoot away.

And that’s when it clicked for the girl. Out of curiosity, she brings up her free hand by his ear to snap, getting nothing but a small shutter from him, a shiver. Like the snapping made the air cold by his ear.

Could he be…?

“Dad! Dad, it’s me. It’s Kaila. Here.” She moves his hand by her face, pulling harder as her father tries to jerk away. “Feel my face. Feel my face. It’s me.”

As soon as he touched her cheek, his flinching faltered. His whole body freezes. Only his hand was moving around, cupping the side of her face, his pinky finger touching her pulse to confirm she was–

He lets out a sound between a sob and a chuckle. “K-Ka-Kaila? I… I… I c-can’t hear…”

Her heart catches itself in her throat.

Her father can’t hear? Oh, god.

Why didn’t she think of that! But what does she do? Does she call for an ambulance? Should she wait a while? Is there a reasonable time for hearing to be recovered? Do you wait six hours? Twelve? A whole day before calling an emergency? 

“Fuck.” She said, squeezing her eyes shut to think. “What can I do? What can I get to help him understand me? Um…” She opens them to look around.

There! 

Her Father’s braille printer. She can use that to communicate. But she can’t leave him alone, not when he touches her face like she might fade away. 

“How can I… Oh. Duh!” She almost slaps herself, but instead she gently starts drawing letters on her father’s arm, hopefully he follows along.

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was doing, carefully following as she spelled: B-R-A-I-L-L-E P-R-I-N-T-E-R, followed by what felt like a question mark.

Matt finds himself shaking his head eagerly. “Yes… Yes! Please.”

Kaila smiles bittersweetly and writes: B-R-E-A-T-H-E B-R-B.

She gives his arm a reassuring squeeze before getting up. She takes it off the shelf where all his work stuff was, powering it on and double checking it had paper. 

She lets out a long sigh, slowly sitting back down. “Okay… how did he do this again?” She scans over the buttons, chewing on her lower lip as she racks her brain for a distant memory. “Oh!”

She types out: -WHAT HAPPENED? Before taking her father’s hand and moving it to the paper. She watches him feel around, a sigh of relief on his face.

“I… I think it’s from when I was shot. I don’t hear anything.” Matt replies, sounding defeated. “Am I still screaming? Or am I whispering?”

-YOU’RE FINE. YOU’RE DOING GREAT. JUST KEEP BREATHING.

Matt laughs humorlessly. “Yeah… yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I have to be.”

Her forehead became etched with lines. She had a gut feeling those words held more weight then he lets on, but she lets it slide for now.

-DO YOU NEED SOMETHING? WATER? FOOD?

He shakes his head. “No. No, I'm good. Just…”

-WHAT IS IT?

“Can you sit next to me?”

-OF COURSE.

She sets the printer on the floor, moving to snuggle up close to him. Upon contact, Matt lets his head fall to her shoulder, closing his eyes. He hums as he falls into a state of mediation, a way for him to relax, too cool down.

Kaila remained stiffen at his side, not wanting to jostle him no matter how heavy he was feeling.

I’m not going to feel my arm after this.

They stayed like this for… who knows how long, but she didn’t even notice him cracking open his eyelids.

“Someone’s coming to the door.” He replies, his voice a bit hoarse sounding.

“Huh?” Kaila said, her brain not processing it.

“Someone’s coming down the hall right now. They’re shifting their weight towards our door. It sounds like heels.”

“Wait, can you hear?”

“It’s a little buzzing, but I can make things out.”

“Thank god.” She said, smiling. “You gave me a scare. I never heard you scream like that before. I could hear you two stories down.”

He frowns apologetically. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… I almost forgot you were here when it happened. I felt alone.”

“That’s okay. You’re okay now. Just, take it easy for the next few hours.”

“I will.” He sighs. “I got to be okay for tonight.”

She froze. 

Did he just–

Frantic knocking started coming from their door, and Matt sat up straighter because of it, seemingly oblivious to the state his kid was in.

“Someone’s at the door.” He said, stating the obvious. But she didn’t move, didn’t speak. How could her father be so… so stupid?

So he really did mean what I thought. A scowl found itself crawling on her face as her hands balled into fists.

“Kai?” Matt calls out as she stands up.

“Get the door.” Was all she says as she ventures off in the opposite direction.

Her reply stunned him enough to not be able to protest back, instead just blindly stare in the direction she was heading. All he really could process was how weird she suddenly was being. But the pounding fists against their door took over his tunnel vision, and Matt slowly pulled himself up to his feet, cautiously stretching his aching muscles.

He tells the person he’s coming, taking slow strides towards his destination, the rhythm of his guest’s knocks tells him who it was. He could practically see the look of relief on her face when he opened, letting her inside. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking the doorknob from his hand.

“Uh, I… I heard what happened.” Matt said, after she closed the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Karen replies with a white lie, but she soon shrugs that off. “No, uh, actually, I’m… I’m barely holding on. I really don’t enjoy being used for target practice.

Matt holds her by the arm. “Come here.” He said, softly and pulled into his embrace. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She chuckles. “Me, too.” She sighs with relief before departing and heads for the kitchen. “How about you?”

“Um, me, yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Might need to look up what ‘fine’ means in the dictionary.” Kaila says under her breath as they passed, she was currently crouching down to brush the broken glass in the dust pan. She only briefly looks up to give the blonde woman a quick smile.

Karen raises an eyebrow. “Uh… Hair of the dog that bit you?” She asked, referring to what Foggy had told her Matt was. An alcoholic. 

“It’s, uh, it’s not what it looks like.” Was Matt’s reply as he slipped on his glasses.

“So what does it look like?” Karen asked, before realizing how uncomfortable he looked. “Sorry.” She laughs nervously while covering her face with her hand. “No, I don’t mean to pry. I'm just worried, and um…”

“No, go ahead.” Kaila said, stand up with the dustpan and broom. “Please, pry as much as you want. It might do him some good.” 

Karen tilts her head at the tone and Matt looks away shamefully as the teenager dumps it out in the trash can nearby. The blonde woman opens her mouth to speak–

“There’s no need to worry.” Matt cuts in, steering her the other way.

“Yeah, you know that doesn’t help, right? You denying that there’s anything wrong.” Karen explains, sincerely.

He gives his head a small shake. “Karen, let’s not–”

“No, I…” She swallows. “How many times can I hear that you fell down the stairs, or you walked into a door, or just being… straight up klutzy inside and outside your home?”

“Well, you know, I’m blind.”

“And you know that I’m not an idiot.”

The room finally felt stuffy with the tension as they fell silent. The adults just studied each other, both looking guilty as Kaila sank her head in shame, feeling she just walked into a private conversation (Although, she needs to be there for… obvious reasons).

“Okay, um…” Karen begins, shifting the weight on her feet, thinking. “Let’s say this. When, or if, you ever feel like… you can tell me what’s really going on with you… I promise that I’m here. Is that a deal?”

Matt seemed taken back by her offer, and almost, almost didn’t want to believe it before he replied, “That is a deal.” 

She smiles. “Good.”

Kaila mentally sighs. “Hallelujah.” She whispers, before grabbing a cloth from its drawer to clean the spot on the floor.

“Now, what can you tell me about the meeting with the DA?” Matt asked, gesturing for the two of them to start walking.

“Yeah, um, it’s… where to begin? Um…” Karen fumbles with her thoughts as they sit at the table. “Reyes showed up.”

“Personally?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Any idea why?”

“Well, uh, it wasn’t to bask us in the warmth of her personality, I can tell you that.”

“Yeah, Reyes wouldn’t buy a pack of gum if it didn’t move her political career forward.”

That makes Karen laugh. “Well, she wants him on a wire. She’s got him set up for a meeting with some big fish in the mob named Brass.”

“And are they going to protect Grotto?” Matt asked, concernedly.

“Yeah. But he’s scared shitless over this psycho shooter, Matt, and I can’t say that I blame him.” She sighs. “Reyes even used it for leverage. She called him ‘the Punisher’.”

His brows shoot up. “What do they know about him?”

“That he’s very scary, but I could have told you that. So whatever they know about him downtown, they’re keeping it to themselves.”

“All right, well, that’s where we start.” He stands up and she follows. “We need to put together a file, a thorough one. Find out who this guy is, what makes him tick.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.” He takes a step closer towards her. “You think, uh, you think he’s crazy?”

“Uh, the Punisher? No.” She shakes her head. “No, I think he was inevitable.”

He looks at her in surprise again. “Inevitable? How so?”

She bites her lip, again fumbling with her thoughts. “Maybe… maybe we created him. All of us. The moment we let Daredevil, or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, or whatever it is–”

“There’s… There’s no connection.”

“Well, actually, I think it’s a pretty straight line, Matt. Daredevil practiced vigilante in our backyard and we applauded him for it.” She touches her chest with happiness. “I know I did. And we never stopped to think that maybe… his actions could open the door for men like this. Men… men with guns. Men who think that the law belongs to them.”

For some reason those words made Kaila stop her task. She felt her blood run cold just at the thought of… well…

His actions could… She gasps mentally and looks down at her dominant hand; The one she held that deadly weapon in. She–

“There’s a difference.” Matt said, disagreeing.

“Well, I don’t see it. Not anymore.” Karen replies, truthfully.

“Yeah, well… Daredevil never killed anyone.”

“Well, not that we know of.” Karen sighs and sits down again. “There’s something about this city… that makes good people want to shoot their way out of bad situations.”

“You think this ‘Punisher’ could be a good person?” Matt asked, a mix between confusion and underlining betrayal.

“No.” Her gaze moves to the floor. “No, I’m just saying… he could be any one of us.” She caught a glimpse of the teenager over her father’s shoulder, and noticed Kaila looking at her hand.

She suddenly recognized the dissociation state Kaila was in like the time she came to her apartment after Wesley. A wave of guilt struck the woman hard knowing she caused that.

Karen stands up, fixing her purse’s strap on her shoulder. “I’m going to get back to Foggy. You know how he hates working on the cases alone.” She replies, flashing the man a smile. “Kai, you want to walk me out?” 

That seemed to do the trick as the girl looked her way. “Uh, s-sure.” Kaila said, setting the rag aside to lead the way.

Karen follows, but takes a moment to spin around to her friend. “If you need anything–”

“I won’t.” Matt said, quickly.

“Just let us know.”

“I will. Thank you for coming around.”

“Uh, Matt…” Karen begins, standing in the frame of the open door. “We care about you.” (talking about her and Foggy) “You’re worth keeping around.”

Matt just gives her a nod as Kaila closes the door. The two girls went with the slow pace as they moved down the hall for the elevator.

Karen was the first to start by saying, “So, what happened with…?”

Kaila sighs. “I… I wish I knew. I really don’t know what’s going on with him sometimes. I don’t understand sometimes either.”

The blonde frowns, dissatisfied with the answer. “So does that mean he actually drinks a lot, or…?”

“No, no. He drinks but not… in the way you think. Um…” The teenager groans, rubbing her face. “It’s hard to explain. But in the end he’s just… stubborn. So stubborn for anyone’s liking.” She shrugs. “But, we’re Murdocks. Were all fucking stubborn. I know I am…”

Karen falters in her steps before coming to a complete stop. “Kaila. Do you want to tell him?” She asked, but the girl wouldn’t meet her gaze.

She shrugs again. “I… I want to. I feel like I need to but…”

“But what?”

Kaila bites her lip. “Everytime I do get… some kind of chance to say something, a chance that I’m actually ready to go for, something happens to him.” Her fearful brown orbs meet the blonde’s motherly blues.

“Everytime something does, he goes into this state of… stubbornness and I can’t… penetrate it. And that state will last for a while and then I’m suddenly not ready to tell him because I was worried about him the whole time.”

Karen gazes at her softly, bittersweetly as she tries to be the calm one here. “Maybe you should wait until he asks you. I’m sure he’s noticed something about you. Right?”

Kaila nods. “Well, yeah, of course he has. But… everytime he does, I freeze and I think of… all these different outcomes.”

“You know your father wouldn’t be upset if you explain the situation.”

“I know that. But I know how he’ll react. If I tell him what happened, I just know he’ll march down to that jailhouse and he’ll choke out… that person.” Kaila swallows a heavy lump in her throat. “And if he does, I’ll just feel… guilty that I just got two people…” She whispers the last part, “In an ‘accident’."

“Don’t.” Karen says, tilting the girl’s head up to make sure she was listening. “Don’t feel guilty for what you did. It was self defense, I don’t care what you think. And there’s no way Matt will be able to do that to him with all those guards in prison.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Okay, but even if he does somehow, we know a pretty damn good lawyer and we have evidence to back it up. There’s no need to worry. Okay?” Karen waits for her to repeat the word back, before pulling the girl into a hug. “Good.”

“Thank you, Karen.” Kaila said, taking her presence in. 

“Don’t mention it.” The blonde pulls back to cup the girl’s face. “Now, if you need me for anything just let me know.”

“I will. Go kick the DA’s ass.”

Karen laughs and presses the elevator button, the doors sliding open immediately. Kaila watches her leave, even taking a moment to watch the numbers drop to the lobby level before heading back. When she returned it was like a repeat of this morning.

“Dad?” She called out, getting no answer. She didn’t even have to think about it as she subconsciously found herself ripping open the wardrobe doors, and taking a peek inside the chest.

She threw her head back with a groan.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt was pretty sure his heart skipped a few beats when he got the message. He was with Melvin trying to get his suit fixed when had to excuse himself that his phone was going off. From there he heard his daughter explain something very, very frantically, telling him he needed to get home quickly. Despite wanting to see what Melvin would do, he left, getting home as fast as he could in his condition. 

He slides through the unlocked window, not even bothering to close it as he marches into the living. “Kai?! You here?” He calls out, and soon enough, his kid comes out of her bedroom with her arms crossed.

“I’m here.” She said, unusually calm.

He faces her with a bit of panic in his voice. “What happened? What’s the emergency?”

She frowns. “I faked it.”

“Faked what?”

“The message. There is no emergency.”

That took Matt a second to process before he scoffed in disbelief. “Why would you fake an emergency?” He asked, underlining the sound of hurt/betrayal (and mostly just straight up confusion).

“Because I don’t want you going out there tonight.” Kaila admits, sternly.

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Dad, you got shot in the head. You almost died. Me and Foggy almost broke your rule about no hospitals because Claire’s unavailable right now. That…” Now it was her turn to look and sound hurt. “That doesn’t concern you?”

Another scoff. “Of course it concerns me. But it’s my job to stop him.”

She shakes her head.“That’s not your job.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.” She snapped, taking a few steps towards him. “So you failed at getting him the first time, now you want to go round two with him? What if he pulls out something unexpected again, then what are you going to do?”

Matt shrugs nonchalantly, replying, “I keep going until he’s stopped.”

Kaila stared at him for a few seconds before making a scoffing noise herself. She pinches the bridge of her nose as she shuts her eyes. “God, we can’t even follow what we talked about the last time.”

He tilts his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Our agreement? The one made after you put Fisk in jail. The one where you asked me to help you with the whole balancing of this Daredevil thing; and here you are, turning your nose up on everything I say.”

“Then what about you, huh?” Matt asked, jaw tight. “Your part of the agreement?”

“What’s my part?” Kaila asked, crossing her arms again.

“The one where you told me, you’ll tell me what happened at Karen’s.”

Kaila paled, looking like a kicked puppy. “You’re not turning this on me.” She said, almost choking on those words.

“Why not?” He asked, arms covering his chest too. “You have a problem, I have a problem. So let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. You’re my daughter, Kai, I live with you. I don’t need sight to know that there’s something eating away at you.” For a split second he looks worried. “Look, I know you were talking about it with Karen earlier and I–”

Her eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, wait.” She said, holding her hand up. “You were eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“You were outside the door, and the two of you aren’t exactly quiet.”

“Says the guy with the super hearing!”

“Kai, what happened?” He asked, vigorously. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally understand what happened that night.

She shifts the weight around on her heels, looking uncomfortable. She gives him what appears to be a half shrug, saying, “I-I… I-I can’t… say much about… about it. I-I don’t really want to, but–”

“If we’re going to talk this has gotta be a two way street.” He explains, not backing down. “So let's talk about what happened.”

“No, this isn’t about me.” She said, shaking her head, and used her hands to speak the next line. “This is… this is… s-so what if I ran into guy and he–”

“There was a guy?” He said, alarmed and protective. Who touched his kid? And why didn’t she say anything sooner?

She stops to bite her cheek, letting her frazzled look turn more ‘adult’ like. “My point being is, I’m talking about you. You can’t keep doing this, this reckless thinking every single night as you go out there. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Oh my god, Kai.” He touches the sides of his head, again not believing what he was hearing. “I’m not being reckless, and not going to get killed. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” She yells before pinching her nose again in disbelief. “Oh my god… it’s like that fucking suit has possession over you!” As soon as she said that, he was giving her a strange look that she wasn’t going to apologize for.

Kaila shakes her head, following up with, “No, don’t give me that look. You looked like fucking Gollum from the Lord of The Rings as you snatched it out of Foggy’s hands earlier. It’s got a hold on you. It’s like you actually think you’re the devil.”

“The devil is a part of me, Kai. I can’t change that.” Matt quips back as he points to himself.

“Yeah, well the devil’s not my fucking dad. Matthew Murdock is.”

“I am your dad.”

“You’re not acting like one!” She shouts back, her fists smacking against her palm for effect. “You worry me! You should be worried! Don’t you ever go out there at night and worry that you might not come back to me?”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to worry if you weren’t here.”

And that was it.

The straw that broke the camel’s back.

Or at least the one that just broke this family apart.

It took the eerily silence from his daughter for Matt to play back what he just said, which he most certainly regretted. His face definitely showed it very quickly.

“Kai, I didn’t mean that.” He said as both their hearts clenched for different reasons.

“Then what did you mean?” She asked, hurtfully. And when she saw how her own flesh and blood couldn’t come up with an answer, she bit her lip to hold back the tears in her eyes.

She releases a shaky reply, “You know what? I’m done.” She gestures to the outside world with rage. “You wanna go out there and get yourself killed, be my guest. I don’t care. I don’t need you. I don’t need a dad. ‘Cause apparently I didn’t have one to begin with, so I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Kai, don’t…” He struggles, eyes stinging too. “Don’t be so harsh. Come on.”

She bares her teeth and spats, “I fucking hate you.”

She turns on her feet, storming into her room and slamming the door. The impact made the room shake and his world tilt. He…

He just…

A spike of anger struck him as he picked up a… a book? Maybe? (He doesn’t know and he didn’t really care at this point) He picked up the object and threw it across the room, hitting one of his living room walls.

“Fuck!!” He yells, and covers his reddened face with his hands. “Fuck…”

Out of exhaustion from the emotion wave he just put himself through, he sank to his knees. He just…

Oh, god.

.

.

.

.

.

What have I done?

-Taglist Is Open-

@stinkywhore @invinciblerikkai @glass-ghost

@your-not-invisible-to-me @ohtacosindrome

@mirkwoodshewolf @dreamscandys

@omniromanticbitch @987coley

@hearts4murdock @katnisspeetaprim

@astrobees @cg94 @simpingforpeterparker3000

@cg94 @winterschildren17 @wolfgirl-205

[piedoesnotequalpi]

Multiples of 6 for the writing thing!

Howdy <3

(Weird writing questions!)

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

There are two: one, I don't want to put too much of real life into my writing and lose friends over it again (...long story); two, that I'll be unable to finish a WIP that I've already started posting.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules.

Improved ability to develop the middle sections of longer plots

More energy to write after work

Magic formula for tweaking my fics enough that more irl people (like my family) can read what I write without noticing it's all Newsies fanfiction

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

I already answered this one, but it's okay because I'm insufferable and can do another passage! Since I've converted you to the CrutchieAlbert camp ( >:) ), I'll do the Albert-trying-to-flirt passage from chapter 7 of How It Will Be.

Again, this is a longer passage, so it goes from "How'd you get into climbing?" Albert asked suddenly to He winked.

I knew Albert and Charlie needed to kiss/admit their feelings this chapter (and had planned for that to be the case), partially because they were reaching a tipping point in terms of being able to hide it and partially so the story would make sense. The problem was, I needed one of them to make a somewhat ambiguous move (they're both very nervous) that would push the other to wonder if they were being flirted with and then make a more unambiguous move as a result. I remembered that in an earlier chapter, Charlie had suggested to Albert that a good beginner flirting method was to just ask the other person about their interests, so I decided Albert would try to actually put that into practice.

If I remember correctly, I had the idea for Charlie and Jack to have their very euphemistic conversation before I had the idea for this scene, so to provide a bridge from Albert's flirting attempt to that conversation, I had Charlie notice what was going on and also timed the conversation so Albert would be pulled for a date right after it (since the date had been set to happen for quite a while), which gave Charlie an opportunity to talk to Jack without Albert around but also stressed him out enough that he was willing to have that conversation in the first place - the show and what it could lead to was starting to feel a little too real at that point. So yeah! Their confession of feelings was more complicated to write in some ways, since neither Charlie nor Albert knew for sure that the other was queer before they kissed, but that made writing their interactions really interesting.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

If it's a longer story/more complicated AU I'll usually have to figure out all the characters' roles, AU-specific traits, etc. as well as the overarching plot, and then I need to get at least some idea of what happens in each chapter/when key plot points take place. That can be fun, but it's frustrating when I'm trying to write and realize I need to plot out the chapter in detail before I can keep going. Writing longer stories was a weakness of mine for a very long time (and still is), so I have to do more detailed plotting than some of the other writers I know.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

I don't think they really play a role! I don't remember most of my dreams, though I do remember last night's dream (my coworkers showed up to move my stuff to my new apartment and I was Not ready at all).

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

So much random stuff: Juggling, the ins and outs of college organizations and their leadership/admin interactions, rock climbing, various other outdoorsy sports, the ins and outs of moving companies, an unfortunate amount about customer service for online retailers...the list goes on and on because I apparently need to learn something about everything.

I've written fics that feature most of these topics, oops

[blueamphibians]

My moms brand of homophobia is the only kind i will ever accept. Its so weirdly wholesome.

Despite her being hardcore christian, she actually never bought up LGBTQ stuff to me and my sister--not in the "its taboo" way, but in the "i am more focused on instilling proper morals in my children and LGBTQ stuff isn't even on my radar."

So obv that meant i had a super positive exposure to it when i found out, because no-one had ever told me it was bad. I found out gay people existed and went "makes sense" and moved on yk?

But back to her homophobia: She lives by a very strong rule of "its not my place to judge them, it's gods," so while she does think being LGBTQ is against the bible, she also doesn't think its her place to comment.

She DOES however think that its her place to be gracious to everybody because God is going to judge HER too, at the end. So this brings me to my favorite story ab her, right.

So our country is VERY conservative to the point where being LGBTQ can get you quietly fired or in extreme cases deported. The place she works regularly flies in staff from abroad though, and they're usually highly LGBTQ-friendly.

So my mom comes home one day, more stressed than usual, and i ask her whats up. And she goes "I had to warn one of the abroad staff not to talk about gender studies with the locals here", and i got prissy and went "why? because its wrong?" and she looked at me and went "No, because they're being nice to his face but what if they go and say something behind his back?"

Like her first instinct was to protect this man who didn't realize just what the environment here was like. And then she drove him around the city trying to help him find a touristy gift for his husband and even suggested different places to try even though she didn't have too.

Like sure my mom is homophobic but her morals clash so STRONGLY with the ideas of hate that she ends up being an ally. I lowkey came out to her one day by going "what would you do if i liked girls"

and she said "well. Id be sad because its wrong and I want you to go to heaven."

and i said "but how would you treat my wife? would you be nice to her?"

and she went "well, yes, of course--" and i went "what if i don't think its wrong?" and she went "well i cant force you but id like if you read the bible more :("

its worth noting that she was so uncomfortable during this conversation, which was so surreal for her, that she started cry laughing in the coffee shop because i was being really intense.

My mother is homophobic but shes also tolerant and so fucking kind and yk those are the kinds of people i can coexist with. She's the kind of person to see a gay coworker get fired and get upset, not because he's gay, but because her workplace had the audacity to fire somebody so experienced.

All this to say: I love my mom.

Side note, my roommate is homophobic (i don't blame her, and its not like shes doing harm) and I'm actually really open to being friends with her because shes kind as fuck and tactful. So yeah, its nice to coexist i guess

EDIT: also. My mom is like, really bad at being homophobic. Like she "knows" its wrong, but she gets really confused when she tries to explain why. And she doesn't actually...do anything homophobic. She sees men in heavy makeup and goes "wow....his eyeshadow is so good..." and then Side Eyes Me

idk. Shes a really good person. The only people I've seen her go "they should be harmed" about is like, r*pists and shit. Doubling down: I love my mom.

[sqlmn]

I'm just gonna... talk about OCs. A lot of text ahead (mostly under a read-more thing).

For a few of my OC plots, I just really like the characters and go "yeah okay AU time" and stick them in various situations and it helps me see what defining traits the characters retain. Like it's still them even with a job change or something.

For the "oops I fell in love" plot tag I use a lot, the main characters are Right and Brent. And they're just. Really awkward with a lot of personal struggles and are honestly just really good for each other. Then you get Chris who just gets along well with everyone (and is in a poly relationship in base-canon) and has a daughter. But while he is still friendly, I don't always picture him in a relationship shockingly. He always has his daughter though, she's very important. Then you get Karen, Paul, and now the bartender. Who I am never going to name it's literally just a thing now where he doesn't get named.

But like, looking at the base-canon: they (minus the daughter and bartender) all work as detectives or do desk-work/calls at the police station. Then there's the mafia AU in which almost nothing changes in setting except Brent is related to someone in the mafia and is sent to work with the police undercover and so he still has the same role at the station. He still accidentally falls in love with Right rather fast. And in the royalty AU Brent and his cousins are princes and Brent goes to stay with his cousins after some fighting breaks out near his home. So that's where he meets Right (and promptly falls in love). Then finally there is one I haven't drawn for: soulmate/reincarnation. I thought about it a lot though (and talked about it on discord a bit to a person or two...).

And honestly, I have been thinking about that one a bit more this evening. Basically, there are some beings who just get reborn. The live and die, get reborn, retain all memories of their past lives. Most of these souls are each other's soulmates. There's some that are tied to someone who doesn't remember the cycles. Then there are some that don't remember who are soul mates with others that don't remember. But because of this, after time, the idea of soul mates wanes as more and more people come around with no recollection of their past lives.

In this scenario, Brent retains all his memories from each cycle. The thing he struggles with more than having a soul mate that doesn't remember is that he doesn't feel the binding like most others do. He can't just look at someone and immediately know that's them, that's his soul mate. He doesn't feel a connection to people right away (and this is directly related to in base-canon where he suffered severe depression for most of his life and simply thought everyone felt numb to their surroundings so he never thought there was a problem). He also realizes after maaaaany lives, his soul mate tends to start off not liking him. Which is also discouraging and makes him stop trying to search. But when he begins work at the police station in that life cycle, he realizes Right doesn't like him. Which is fine, not everyone will like him but it also doesn't necessarily mean that's going to be his soulmate.

When Right stands up for him though to another coworker, Brent realizes 'ah, got it. there's the connection' but he knows that in this life Right is incredibly traumatized. So he decides to simply not mention anything about it. He just keeps working with him and finds himself somehow becoming friends with Right in Right's opinion. So when Paul demands Right and Karen join him for drinks, Right says Brent's gotta be included, too. Which Paul accepts cause he just wants to go stare at a bartender so whoever tags along is fine.

Then the bar. And Brent immediately groans inwardly because he might not be able to identify his soul mate on sight but he can identify other's that retain their memories. And of COURSE one of the bartenders makes knowing eye contact and smiles pleasantly. So as Right, Paul, and Karen go sit, Brent says he'll join them in a minute and approaches the guy who continues to smile.

"Not often someone like us walks in here," the guy says which Brent notices is vague on purpose. Not really advertising the 'I remember my past lives' deal. Got it. So they talk very briefly and Brent learns that the bartender is soul mates with Paul who, like Right, has no memory of his past lives. And Brent asks about if it bothers the man at all and he laughs and is like "of course not! I think it's fun to see what my soul mate is like every time. The fact they don't remember what happened before just means they have an unbiased opinion on their current life. And that's exciting. Buuuut while I find him pouting adorable, I find he's cuter when he's happy. So please give him this" and just hands Brent a card with his number handwritten on it.

And Brent is like "have you had this all night in case he showed up" and the bartender is very serious as he says "I have had it and thrown it away and rewritten it for two weeks because I don't know how to time it right. So you're the perfect catalyst" and Brent leaves it at that with a new perspective to the fact only he remembers for himself and Right.

But throughout the different universes I shove them into, I really just grow so fond of how Right and Brent are good for each other. And then in contrast to them slowly warming up to each other and having a sudden realization of 'oh no I love this man', you have Paul and the bartender (or gardener in the royalty AU). Those two are literally just horny on main for each other no matter what. It's really fun??? To just think about them? I love them all so much and they're all just good people trying to survive and do their best when together.

And since I mostly talked about JUST the guys here I'm giving a slight bit of info on Karen now.

In base-canon, she's the same role as Brent at the station. She mostly keeps things organized but is very good on the phone with people. In the mafia AU, she's still there but she's the one that shows Brent the ropes. And she is Brent's first "friend" in that AU and takes a whole lotta pride in that. In the royalty AU, she isn't a knight or a royal. She's more of a medic that visits the castle to check on the knights. (and in the mafia AU she does help patch Right up and shows medical competency there) In the reincarnation AU... I don't really have much planned for her yet. She's one of the few in the cast that doesn't have a romantic relationship with anyone so she's mostly there to support her friends.

So basically, hi I love my OCs a whole lot and there is way too much side story info for non-canon events.

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 46 - Some Therapeutic Truth

Ophelia finds she's really comfortable talking to Omari, even about stuff she's never told anyone other than her gran.

Ophelia: You're probably going to want me to talk about my family eventually, huh?

Omari: Perhaps. We're going at your own pace, though. This isn't a race.

Omari: Why don't we start with this for today's conversation. What made you consider re-traiting sessions in the first place?

Ophelia: I got caught trying to swipe something.

Omari: Hmm. If you don’t mind, was it by a townie or someone you know?

Ophelia: It was Xander.

Omari: Ah. Your woohoo partner, correct?

Ophelia: Yeah. He got really upset.

Omari: A lot of klepto Sims get an embarrassed moodlet when they get caught, I’m sure it was the same for you.

Ophelia: I’d never felt so humiliated in all my life. Xander’s such a sweet guy, I hated that I made him so upset. Before, swiping was just something fun I did that felt harmless but when he thought I might have been stealing from his sister… it made me feel disgusting.

Ophelia: It was such a stupid thing too, I got mad and tried to steal something from a former coworker that screwed us over and he walked in. Of course it was the one time I wasn't stealing from some random ownerless community lot.

Omari: These things can happen for a reason.

Ophelia: What do you mean?

Omari: It’s to my understanding that Xander is the one who recommended you to this office. If he hadn’t caught you, would you be here right now?

Ophelia: No, I guess not.

Omari: Sometimes it takes a wake up call to realize things need to change.

Omari: It sounds like Xander means a lot to you.

Ophelia: He does. We have fun together. My bandmates say we don’t do it right though.

Omari: Can you clarify what you mean by ‘it’? I’m assuming you’re not referring to the act of woohoo itself.

Ophelia: They said we’re not being woohoo partners right.

Omari: Did either of them explain why?

Ophelia: According to them, woohoo partners don’t kiss because that’s only a romantic thing, but I have so much fun kissing him! And he likes kissing me too.

Omari: Hmm. Well, you two are consenting adults. If you like kissing him and neither of you consider it to be romantic, then that’s your prerogative. Kissing releases serotonin, which is why it feels nice.

Ophelia: So I’m good? My bandmates are wrong and they suck?

Omari: Well, I have another question. If you had a different woohoo partner, would you also kiss them? Kissing could potentially feel good with anyone, but perhaps a more personal connection is enhancing that urge to kiss, and subsequently woohoo, in the first place.

Ophelia: I don’t know. Maybe. I have a hard time imagining it. It’s such a personal thing, I’d only want to do it with someone I trust.

Omari: Like Xander.

Ophelia: Yeah.

Omari: Woohoo is a very intimate act. Being that vulnerable can be hard unless you care about someone.

Ophelia: Drew and Moses think Xander and I are basically dating now.

Omari: Because you kiss?

Ophelia: Well, he also stays the night a lot. And we eat breakfast together. And dinner most of the time. And he’s met my friends. And we cuddle. And he called me pumpkin butt once.

Omari: I see. Would you like my opinion as your therapist or as Omari?

Ophelia: Uh, let’s give Omari a shot.

Omari: Honey, you two are dating.

Ophelia: Shit.

Ophelia goes to the gym, without her Hot Girls, to clear her mind.

Don: Good job, keep at it!

Ophelia: Sorry, dude. I'm allegedly in a relationship.

Don: Don't flatter yourself, I'm the gym trainer. It's my job to encourage randos.

Ophelia: Oh.

Well, I'll give Don Lothario this, he is actually a pretty good gym trainer. His fitness tips distract Ophelia from her current issues well enough, at least.

On her way home, Ophelia stops by La Coppia Serena to play a melody that's been knocking around her head for a couple of days. She's always wanted to write her own music, but it never came as naturally as it seems to right now. Maybe something's inspired her.

It's midnight by the time Ophelia walks to the beach by her house. It's a beautiful night. She lays in the sand and gazes at the moon, the sound of the nearby waterfalls soothing her nerves from thinking about the conversation she knows she's going to have with Xander tomorrow.

[number1mongrel]

...Heck it I'm gonna talk about my headcanoned version of Kid Gil enjoy

So you know how people, when they have some extremist beliefs which they realize are wrong, don't always immediately start acting healthier, and they instead flip around to the other extreme? We'll come back to this.

Anyways, so there's also Gil having Clairvoyance but not really using it. And who else has Clairvoyance? Solomon, whose basically went his entire life acting out God's will and never ever using it for himself. And Gil was meant to be the Wedge of Heaven, keeping humanity obeying the rule of the Mesopotamian Gods.

So basically, what I was thinking was, what if a very young Gil was kinda like Solomon. If both Kings had Clairvoyance, that maybe the Clairvoyance was in part a way for the Mesopotamian Gods to communicate their will to their Wedge, and steer humanity more easily towards their desired outcomes and futures. And while he was still regularly relying on his clairvoyance and listening to the gods, that was when Gil was all polite and sweet and a good boy. I imagine he was still distant from humanity-- it was less that he cared a lot for people, and more that. He neither hates nor loves them, so may as well be polite so we can all get along. Why not be kind and obedient?

Then, for whatever reason, he realized he had some sort of wake-up call. And decided that whatever the gods had had planned for him and humanity, he no longer wanted anything to do with it. And so began ignoring his clairvoyance (most of the time anyways, there's still the dreams) and began actively rebelling against the gods and working to separate humans from them. Not only that, he came to the realization he shouldn't just be acting subservient to a bunch of gods as their intermediary, he was the king! His subjects and treasures and city were HIS to protect and enjoy, not the gods'! They weren't king, he was!

...And then he proceeded to swing to the other extreme in 'being himself' and 'enjoying his treasures and subjects'. And it took until Enkidu and the herb to learn about 'moderation' and become the wise king.

So yeah. Kid Gil disliking both adult Gils because Hey What Are You Doing Why Did You Turn Off Your Clairvoyance. Stop That. You're Gonna Do Something Wrong. Meanwhile Archer Gil and CasGil almost completely failing to recognize Kid Gil as a version of themselves when running into him because Don't Be Stupid, Mongrel, I'd Never Act Like That.

This is also fun to me because I think parallels are Great and Amazing. Solomon always remains the dutiful and obedient king, until he's capable of having freedom given to him, but when he learns about the Incineration of Humanity, willingly decides to diligently work to prevent it and preserve humanity anyways, learning about how to be a human through those experiences and also his friendship with people like Guda(k)o and Mash, while Gilgamesh just grabs at his chance to be free but needs to slowly learn that he's no better than anyone else by losing first Enkidu, then the Plant of Immortality. (But afterwards is completely 'content' to just eternally isolate himself as humanity's guardian. Too prideful and too much to get along with most of them, but still generally benevolent towards them... kinda sorta)

...And then we have Merlin who also watches over humanity and wants a happy ending for them but goes to an even greater extreme in isolating himself from all of them.

Anyways I like all three of them and I want more content of them being forced to be coworkers. (Or boyfriends. I will also accept all three being boyfriends.) Anyways I went horribly terribly off-track but Gil wildly flailing about different extremes trying to find a balance before Figuring It Out is nice for me and parallels are Always Great and I hope you enjoyed.

OH YEAH YEAH I LOVE THIS!!!! i feel the exact same way, in fact i've been meaning to make a post for awhile now talking about the parallels between gil and solomon bc there's a LOT. and yes! that makes so much sense with kid gil simply being on his best behavior because that's what he believes his whole purpose in life, what he was literally created for, is. and yeah, despite kid gil being nicer, we ALSO never actually see him doing any grand gestures to protect humanity like his adult selves do. he generally seems a lot less passionate about things in general, the only exceptions being when he acts more like his adult self. it's only when he realized how empty and lonely his existence was and that he was being used as a tool that he began to lash out both against the gods and humans

[bunnyb34r]

Lmaooo someone's getting in trouuuuuble today and I can't be 100% sure bc I didn't see who did it but i think I know

Context under the cut bc it's a long one:

So I've bitched on here many a time about how front end will do aaaalll their go backs and leave the massive pile of clothing returns (that they would have time to do if they didnt let it build up the way they do) in our area

We've been having a constant 2+ FULL carts in our area for months now. We clear em, they come back the next day with more.

We've even been petty and taken them back up front before. It comes back with MORE

Now I get that front end is a hectic job but It's literally part of their job, they don't leave go backs of like baby isle stuff in the baby isles, or go backs of heavy cleaning supplies in the cleaning isle, it's only clothing bc they dont wanna do it/think we just fold clothes all day

AND they've been yelled at several times to stop fucking doing this, by several managers and team leads.

Well we got told yesterday that when we come in, even if it's just one of us that day, we are to empty the carts before ANYTHING else. K.

So BratBoy told [rc] who went to complain ab how unfair it is that we are forced to do this job when it is literally their responsibility to do it. And he said he told their manager several times and they still do it, so he's gonna start writing people up for it. Checking cameras to see WHO specifically did it.

Anyway, I come in and BratBoy told me to tell him if theres a cart there. There was.

It was maybe 10 items or so so not a lot, but that only goes to show HOW FUCKING EASY THEY COULD'VE DONE IT THEMSELVES. Anyway, took me 5 minutes, whatever now I have two carts. (Important for the story)

So he comes by maybe 20 min later and asks if there was a cart and I said yeah and he goes "I'll take care of it"

To which I was like "oh no i did, first thing right?"

He meant "I'll take care of it" that being the whole cart issue itself.

So I say "k" and go ab my work, utilizing both carts bc why not. One has my trash bag and a stack of Sharter's clearance I was gonna liquidate after I came back from break/put in a box to deal with later. The other has my water bottle and some paper. Across the top of the middle of both carts is a flattened cardboard box I was saving for the Sharter's.

I go to do my signs, go on break.

Come back and theres a pile of clothes pushed into my cart, the one with the trash bag, pushed in behind the bag. I was livid.

I put up my signs (only now hours later realizing I did them wrong) and track down BratBoy and tell him that when he gets a minute come to clothing, he asks why and I must have looked/sounded like I was gonna cry but that's just my "I'm fucking irritated at this stupid job and trying to remain professional" bc he looked so concerned

So I tell him what happened, relaying that it was pushed into the cart that CLEARLY HAD TRASH IN IT ALREADY and these carts were literally touching so it wasn't like they got to one first

He looked like "are you fucking kidding me" and said he'd check the cameras and take care of it.

Then as I'm getting ready to leave, I get flagged down by a coworker that one of the front end ladies wanted to talk to me

I didnt clock out yet so I follow him

She was like BratBoy said something ab the cart ect ect

And I was trying to not act like I had ratted them out sgdggdgd turns out she wanted to make sure she hadnt gotten ME in trouble, that that's not why BratBoy said something and I was like no thats not it. And she was like "I left hoodies there but I didnt put them in your cart" okay then this isnt ab you...

So I told her no, what was in the cart was also pants and shit not just hoodies

So I'm willing to bet money it was the transphobic religious lady who did it bc I saw her and aforementioned coworker leaving clothing as I returned

Like she has a track record of just leaving carts like 🤗 here you go!🥰

As if shes like helping us giving us her fucking work

Anyway I left the cart and told BratBoy that and hes like "oh dont worry, they'll take care of it"

Oh! And it was the clothes that were fucking shoved under the front desk too. Like they, instead of still using a cart to make their job easier and putting shit away themselves, decided to shove clothing in the front desk... real classy bunch