#heavy duty gym flooring

[khandesh-corporation]

[pin-k-ink]

fever // kita shinsuke

tw ⇢ mutual pining, semi public, massaging, hair pulling, clit play, hand job, pussy job, grinding, no penetration, slight nipple play

wc ⇢ 4.5k

Kita exhaled a measured breath, carefully resting the well-worn volleyball in the ball cart before turning to survey the gym. Practice had concluded for the evening, but the scuffed hardwood floor still radiated a residual warmth reflecting the team's exertions.

One by one, his teammates had trickled out - the athletic club's locker room clearing out in a steady flow of rowdy jokes and towels slung over damp shoulders. The usual nightly exodus that Kita monitored with an accustomed stillness. All except for one person still diligently working off to the side, seemingly oblivious that she'd been left behind.

You.

Kita's eyes instinctively traced the familiar lines of your form as you bent with silent concentration, meticulously rolling up the vinyl court mats with deft motions. The oversized shirttails of Inarizaki's uniform bunched and strained across your shoulderblades with each controlled movement - the vibrant hue only accentuating how your cheeks still glowed faintly flushed from exertion.

Something he couldn't help noticing with each practice as of late. Along with the slight fraying at your ponytail's nape from repeatedly running hands through sweat-dampened strands. Or the shadows deepening beneath your eyes - barely perceptible markers of how heavy your work schedule as team manager had become.

Kita felt an unwitting tightness grip his diaphragm as he watched you tending to the equipment sweep - the final thankless task before being able to escape the gymnasium yourself. He should have been relieved that you exemplified such steadfast dedication to your duties. The sort of disciplined work ethic he strove to emblematize.

Yet lately, an encroaching sense of unease had begun creeping in whenever glimpsing how utterly depleted you seemed. Like a brilliant ember slowly being smothered to ashen burnout despite containing so much vital spark left to share.

Perhaps it was painfully selfish, but Kita couldn't bear the thought of that smoldering spark winking out entirely. Not when it represented one of the sole warmths capable of unraveling his own desperation to always remain rigidly compartmentalized.

With you, he could simply exist - shed of airtight expectations and the crushing weight of obligations. If only for fleeting moments that never felt sufficient to absorb your radiant presence fully.

The subversive thought prompted Kita to impulsively close the distance between you with his trademark eerily-silent footfalls. You didn't register his approach until he folded his tall frame into an easy crouch mere inches away - deft fingers automatically reaching to assist tucking in the mat's final corner.

"K-Kita!" You startled, clearly not expecting him to materialize so abruptly at your side after everyone else had vacated. "You shouldn't have to help with this, I'm-"

"Nearly finished for the evening?" His deep, quietly resonant timbre cut you off - not unkindly. Liquid mercury eyes remained focused on aligning the mat's edge as his elegant hands smoothed and secured it into a tidy roll. "Don't worry, I've been observing how diligently you've attended everything lately."

You opened your mouth to protest or express gratitude - he couldn't be certain which based on the fleeting chaos of micro-expressions flickering across your features. Kita determinedly avoided focusing too intently on your lovely face directly.

The subtle smatterings of flushed exertion dusting your cheekbones and nose were...disarmingly appealing enough without adding to his distraction.

Instead, he pressed on before you could formulate a reply.

"I've been meaning to suggest you join me on a retreat soon." Kita kept his tone was neutral as he began coiling the roll of mat beneath one arm, motioning with his chin that you should take the opposite end. "There are some hot springs out in Yufu that would be perfect for recharging and immersive meditation this time of year."

Rising to his full stature, Kita finally leveled his gaze directly upon you - absorbing the momentary wash of surprise and something deeper, more ruminative flickering across your expression. That familiar spark of warmth rekindling from its embered banked state as your eyes searched his with unspoken consideration.

"Think it over," he prompted softly, imperceptibly leaning in fractionally closer yet still maintaining a disciplined distance. "I imagine a night or two of solitary contemplation could benefit us both greatly."

The effluence of Kita's breath mingled with yours in corporeal plumes as you absorbed his pointed invitation - searching for any hint of ulterior suggestion laced through the polished veneer of his subtle words and movements. As always, he emitted an aura of pristine neutrality and understatement that skirted any tinge of impropriety.

But after sharing so many sidelong gazes, measured silences, and paradoxically-charged stillnesses over years of proximity...you thought you detected the barest kindling of something molten and incandescently profound burning behind his veneer. Something solely meant for your interpretation alone.

Still, you found yourself unable to voice anything beyond a mute nod of acceptance. Allowing the hushed ambiance to lapse back over your dual departures from the gymnasium - bodies and breath intermittent, but bound by currents vastly deeper than physical colocation.

All while Kita hid a barely-perceptible smile, finally allowing vindicated hope to unfurl within his rigorously tempered heart.

You couldn't shake the lingering pull of Kita's words - or the undercurrent of unspoken yearning that seemed to accent his otherwise placid invitation.

An overnight retreat to remote hot springs for "solitary contemplation"? On the surface, it sounded like precisely the sort of austerely philosophical overture one would expect from someone as rigorously self-actualized as Kita Shinsuke. And yet...

You found your focus fracturing at inopportune moments, always drifting back towards dissecting the implications of that loaded pause before he extended the invite. Or the infinitesimal dilation of his liquid mercury eyes while pinning you under that steadily smoldering regard.

Was it projection conjuring phantoms from your own long-repressed desires regarding Kita? Or had you genuinely glimpsed a simmering spark of something heated flaring beneath his meticulously-honed control?

The uncharacteristic lack of certainty dogged your heels through the ensuing days. Early dawn meditation circle followed by corralling rambunctious teammates - then practice regimens, followed by tight laps of individual training all bled into a seamless panorama of duties. The steady, soothing routine only interrupted when Kita unexpectedly rematerialized during quiet pockets in the schedule.

He never overtly revisited the topic, yet his presence often carried the static charge of unfinished business hovering in the air between you. Until one evening following clean-up, you found Kita in one of the secluded ante-rooms clearly waiting for you.

"We haven't spoken much since I extended my invitation," he began without preamble, back to you while sorting equipment racks. "Have you given any thought to joining me in Yufu?"

You hesitated fractionally, still processing his abrupt resurgence of the topic. "I have...though I'm not certain an overnight retreat is advisable given our respective commitments here."

Kita hummed thoughtfully, finally slanting his chiseled profile towards you. "We could arrange coverage easily enough if we stagger our departure and return appropriately."

Pinned beneath his steadily considering gaze, you felt your breath stalling in your chest. As always, Kita projected a facade of crisp professionalism and equanimity. Yet there was an infinitesimal brightness glittering in those steely eyes boring into yours that seemed to make an unspoken entreaty all its own.

"Getting away from this environment - even briefy - can provide incomparable perspective," he continued in that baseline timbre of his roughened with quiet conviction. "Having you along as well would only serve to deepen the immersion and focus..."

Kita trailed off, expression slipping seamlessly back into that practiced vacancy masking depths you'd always longed to plumb. The muscle in his jaw ticked faintly as he averted his eyes - immediately busying his elegant hands with some inane reorganizing of janitorial supplies as if chastising himself for even broaching the subject so ardently.

"At any rate," he muttered, cotton towel whisking across metal handles with percussive strokes that sliced the thickening silence. "Consider it, if you're able to manage the time away from your regular responsibilities here."

The minute shift of his shoulders spoke volumes - Kita already attempting to insulate himself from whatever seedling longing had temporarily unfurled. You found yourself rooted in place, drinking in each precise movement and lilting cadence from your teammate as if reinscribing them all into muscle memory.

You quietly ached witnessing him wrestle his yearning back beneath that impeccable veneer of restraint. As if fearing you'd shy from the vulnerability of peering too unflinchingly into the blazing intensity you knew burned beneath his stillness.

Before Kita could retreat fully behind his customary distant stoicism, you jolted into decisive action.

"Let's go." The words tumbled out on a hushed yet insistent exhalation, stalling his movements entirely. "Even a solitary night or two away could provide useful perspective, as you said."

Molten mercury eyes flared towards you in naked astonishment before Kita regained his composure with a subtle dip of his chin. The slightest softening warmed his aristocratic features and you had to clench your palms against a sudden trembling.

"Very well," he replied, somehow managing to project equanimity despite his rattled stillness. "I'll handle the arrangements and preparations for us both. Perhaps you might contemplate the value of mindful solitude in the interim."

Then Kita slanted you a heavy-lidded look from beneath his lashes - one you felt scorching across every exposed inch of your rapidly overheating skin. There was no mistaking the lush promise and simmering intent blazing behind that stare before he refocused with visible effort.

"It may prove...deeply illuminating for the both of us," Kita murmured in a voice dropping into a register you felt viscerally ribboning up your spine.

You could only give a tremulous nod and fight for steady inhales as he brushed past you with a lingering brush of warm, mint-tinged air. Already feeling imperiled by the thought of "solitary contemplation" with Kita amongst such remotely intimate seclusion.

Not that you retained any willpower left to contemplate refusing. Denial was no longer an option once the spark between you had finally ignited into blazing reality.

The journey to Yufu passed in a reverent kind of silence, occasionally punctuated by Kita offering hushed commentary about the significance of hot spring bathing in Japanese culture. You absorbed the lulling timbre of his voice like a tonic - steadying your thrill-hazed thoughts from spiraling too recklessly.

Because despite maintaining impeccable discretion on its surface, this was unmistakably an intimate occasion. Just the two of you sequestered at an exclusive onsen ryokan tucked into the densely forested mountains. Primed to shed societal pretext entirely for anonymous oversight and ritual indulgence.

You attempted not to dwell overlong on how deliriously tempting the concept felt after so many years orbiting Kita's gravitational pull. Only to have that inexorable tide abruptly draw both your paths into shared seclusion.

Upon arrival, Kita ushered you to separate bathing pavilions with a pointed look and reassurance he would join you once you'd settled into your appointed suite. You moved through the ceremonial disrobings and ablutions in a daze - trying to center yourself in the austere surroundings and reminder of pursuing spiritual clarity.

Yet the rituals only conjured visceral recollections of sharing sidelong glances with Kita across steam-shrouded surfaces. Of his lithe, powerful form materializing from mineral-rich clouds with rivulets trailing down the corded arcs of his back.

You shuddered and submerged yourself fully in the blessedly scalding waters, desperate to purge such profane imagery before he returned to your company. Only emerging once confident your meditative breathing exercises had steadied your thrumming pulse into an outwardly composed state.

When Kita did rejoin you, swathed in the facility's uniform yukata robe, you felt your arousal flare with alarming intensity all over again.

He looked inexplicably, disarmingly beautiful like this. The intricate patterns of his robe accentuated the rugged slashes of his jawline and cheekbones - simultaneously expressing delicacy and intense masculinity with each meticulously unhurried motion. You froze, drinking in each weighted pause and steady sweep of his mercurial gaze taking you in as he settled onto the submerged bench facing you.

"These hot spring waters make me want to open up my thoughts to you," Kita's timbre sliced through the fragile quiet first - sotto yet arresting. "It seems like you have a lot on your mind too."

You swallowed hard, determined not to spiral into incoherence from the intimate double meaning you detected woven through his mild inquiry.

"Lately I've been wondering if my calm outer appearance truly reflects my inner ideals," you murmured, gaze locked onto the elegant flex of Kita's hands smoothing the embroidered lapels over his sternum. "Or if I've just become too closed off."

A flicker of silent understanding passed over Kita's inscrutable features as he absorbed your veiled confession. The water sloshed gently between you as he shifted infinitesimally closer - near enough for his crisply grounding cedar and green tea scent to wreath around you.

"Staying calm on the outside is meant to cultivate inner peace, not be an end goal itself," he replied with that deceptively mild directness you found so innately compelling. "Avoiding the truth out of propriety leads to stagnation, not enlightenment."

His eyes locked weightily onto yours in silent emphasis - a scintillating undercurrent seeming to suffuse the heated waters as your lungs labored for air under such singularly focused intensity.

"I've let some important truths go unspoken for too long," Kita continued in a cadence stripping away several layers of subtext until only rawly naked honesty remained. "Maintaining decorum at the expense of serenity has done me a disservice, and you as well."

You drank in each word, simultaneously intoxicated and floored by the profundity of Kita's confession unfolding with such poised grace. Somehow, he managed to transmute the insulated world of the ryokan's dimly lit bathing chamber into a microcosmic suspended orbit - just the two of you drifting closer and unfurling truths that illuminated fathomless new expanses.

Yet when he leveled his piercing, elemental focus directly onto you next - all pretenses and protective veneers abruptly fell away in his piercing intensity.

"I brought you out here for unforgivably selfish reasons," Kita stated quietly yet with smoldering, ruthless conviction laced through each syllable. "I wanted to be alone with you…to finally confess my true feelings for you without restraint or judgment, even if it crosses boundaries we've danced around."

The naked admission hung between you in a burgeoning swell of heated electricity. You struggled to accurately process the enormity of his pronouncement - much less render coherent response beyond widening eyes and a sharp inhalation.

Kita watched the maelstrom of shock, possibilty, and thoroughly naked yearning play out across your features with rapt absorption. Until finally, the last of his veneers fell away like cresting waves finally succumbing to the inevitability of the tide.

He pivoted from his seated position until planted solidly before you - steely eyes transfixed on drinking in every micro shift of emotion unspooling across your face. Then with maddening unhurried reverence, Kita extended a dripping hand to chart your jaw's contours.

The lightest graze of his fingertips seared your thundering pulse like a brand, dizzying your senses entirely. But Kita didn't relent in his sensual exploration - tracing the sloped curves and hollows of your neck and decolletage with a worshipful sort of absorption.

"I'm tired of denying how much I want to know every inch of you," he confessed in a gravelly rasp drowning in shameless, smoldering yearning. Lips brushed the hollow of your clavicle in a searing half-kiss as you shuddered helplessly. "I've spent too long not allowing myself to feel your body against me."

Callouses dragged along deliriously sensitive planes in his wake, kindling arousal into a molten, all-consuming blaze within the cradle of your increasingly trembling thighs. All pretense of restraint or detached contemplation had thoroughly dissolved - replaced by Kita's absolute immersion into mapping the intimate topography of your mottled blush spreading across exposed flesh.

Your body instinctively leaned into his exploratory touches, silently begging for more sustained contact in the wake of his hushed revelation. Even as your mind whirled, Kita proceeded with hushed focus and purpose - rendering you increasingly pliant putty under the spellbinding magic of his undivided attention.

When his mouth slanted across yours in a searing, openmouthed clash, it felt like the final surrender to unchecked truth. Years of repressed longing and carefully maintained discretion ignited into pure sensual freefall.

Kita groaned harshly, swallowing your ragged gasp as your arcs instinctively strained for impossible closeness. He pressed inexorably tighter - one palm slipping along the jut of your hipbone beneath the concealing waters in a consuming caress before gently turning your body around.

Kita's calloused hands glided over your slick skin, the heated water allowing his fingers to effortlessly explore the curves of your body. He started at your shoulders, firmly kneading the tense muscles there as you melted back against the bath's edge with a soft sigh.

"Relax," he murmured, the rumbling timbre of his voice surrounding you. "Let me take care of you."

You obliged, going pliant under his attentions. His strong hands worked methodically downward, thumbs digging deliciously into the knots of your upper back. Kita's motions were deliberate yet unhurried, as if committing every plane and dip of your flesh to memory through touch alone.

When he reached your lower back, you arched involuntarily, pushing your body more fully into his roaming palms. A soft sound escaped your parted lips at the change of angle, the new tension in your muscles screaming for his expert pressure.

Kita leaned in closer until his broad chest brushed your back, the heat of his skin raising goosebumps along your arms. His deft fingers danced lower, kneading the swell of your hips, the crease of your thighs. Each touch ignited sparks that rapidly stoked into a burning need for more contact, more friction.

"Does that feel good?" Kita's raspy murmur fanned across the nape of your neck, making you shiver. You could only nod, rendered incoherent by the arousal slowly engulfing you.

One hand dipped between your thighs, parting them gently. Your breath hitched as he traced the length of your folds with a single fingertip, drawing an achingly slow line up to your clit. The slightest graze had you keening, hips canting toward his touch.

"I've wanted to touch you for so long," Kita confessed, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast. The rough pad of his thumb rubbed against the stiff peak, eliciting a soft cry from you. "Every time I saw you working so hard, I imagined how I'd take care of you."

"Shin..." You couldn't summon any words beyond his name, the sensations overwhelming your ability to form coherent thoughts. His finger pressed down against your swollen clit, drawing tight circles that had you panting and squirming against him.

Kita's breath ghosted across your throat, the warmth and tickle adding another layer of sensation to the fire he'd started. Your head lolled against his shoulder, exposing the delicate expanse of your neck to him.

He took full advantage, nipping and sucking at the flushed skin until a constellation of red marks bloomed in his wake. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his cock straining against the small of your back, the tension in his muscles signaling his own barely-contained lust.

But Kita remained focused on you, his hand working between your thighs in steady motions. He seemed to read the slightest cues of your body, adjusting the speed and pressure of his strokes until he'd reduced you to a quivering mess.

Every nerve ending felt electrified, pleasure building at the base of your spine, spreading throughout your entire body. You ground shamelessly against his palm, desperate for release. Kita's fingers slid easily along your soaked slit, the friction exactly what you needed to tip you over the edge.

A shudder wracked your frame, legs clamping around his hand as you came with a wordless cry. Pleasure crashed through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Distantly, you heard Kita groan, felt the hardness of his cock twitching against you, but it all seemed secondary to the overwhelming euphoria gripping you.

Finally, the aftershocks subsided, leaving you feeling sated and boneless. Kita's touch lingered, teasing lightly along your overly-sensitive flesh, his mouth trailing tender kisses along the slope of your neck.

You slumped further against his chest, breathing heavily. After a moment, Kita pulled his hand away, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You could feel his erection digging into your back, but he made no move to relieve himself, instead simply holding you close.

The realization that he'd brought you out here specifically to pleasure you sent a rush of affection coursing through you. You twisted around until you were facing him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss. He tasted faintly sweet, the mineral tang of the hot springs still lingering. Kita met your movements eagerly, his hands skimming up and down your back.

You let the kiss linger, losing yourself in the slide of his mouth against yours. His touch was unhurried, almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world to explore your lips, your tongue, the sensitive underside of your jaw.

A quiet whimper escaped you as his fingers brushed the underside of your breasts. Your own hands wandered over the broad expanse of his chest, tracing the firm contours of his pectorals and abdomen. The way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your fingertips was addictive, and you found yourself wanting to touch every inch of his sculpted body.

Finally, you broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. His irises were nearly swallowed by his pupils, dark with lust.

You felt a renewed stirring of arousal at the thought of bringing him pleasure, of watching him fall apart beneath you.

"I want to touch you," you breathed, letting your fingers drift lower, ghosting across the defined lines of his pelvic bone. Kita's gaze burned into yours, his breathing coming heavier.

"You don't have to," he murmured, even as his cock twitched at the prospect. You grinned, palming the thick length of him, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

"But I want to," you replied, squeezing his shaft lightly. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, jaw clenched as he fought to regain control. The sight of him losing his composure, of knowing that you were the cause, sent a rush of power surging through you.

Kita opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but you cut him off with another squeeze. He bit his lip, hips bucking into your touch. You grinned, running your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

"Lie back," you ordered, and he obeyed, sinking onto the stone ledge at the edge of the bath. You shifted positions, straddling his legs and bracing yourself against his muscular thighs.

His eyes locked onto yours as you began stroking his length, slow and firm. He groaned, eyelids fluttering, a faint blush spreading across his high cheekbones. The sight of him laid out before you, completely vulnerable, sent another pulse of arousal through you.

You kept the rhythm steady, gauging his reactions and adjusting accordingly. Every twitch, every soft moan, had you aching for more. But you wanted to draw this out, to savor the moment.

His head dropped back against the stone, eyes closing as his hips began to rock into your motions. His breaths came in ragged pants, muscles tensing and releasing. You could tell he was getting close, could feel his cock swelling in your hand.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and his hands grasped your wrists, stilling your movements.

"Wait," he gasped, chest heaving. You paused, watching his expression intently. After a moment, he loosened his grip, guiding your hands off him and settling them on his stomach instead.

"Not like this," he murmured, sitting up and shifting you onto his lap, your thighs splayed wide around his hips. His cock pressed against your inner thigh, and you ached to sink onto him, to feel him fill you completely.

But he simply held you, gazing at you with an expression of awe and adoration. The intensity of his stare, the reverence in his touch, was intoxicating. Your breath hitched, and you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Kita wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips parted, allowing your tongue to slip inside and deepen the kiss. You moaned, rocking your hips against him, reveling in the friction.

You felt his hands slide down to your ass, pulling you more firmly against him. He guided the movement, thrusting against you, his cock sliding along your soaked folds. Each pass sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, and you found yourself clinging to him, grinding down on his shaft.

He buried his face in your neck, breath hot against your skin. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly. His grip on your hips tightened, and you felt his cock twitch.

"Do that again," he groaned, voice muffled by your neck. You obliged, yanking his head back and exposing the column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and you couldn't resist dragging your tongue along his pulse point.

His hips jerked, and he let out a guttural moan, low and deep. The sound went straight to your core, and you found yourself grinding harder, chasing your release. Kita's breathing was ragged, his cock throbbing between your legs.

You could tell he was close, could feel him teetering on the edge. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he thrust against you. You raked your nails down his back, earning a sharp gasp from him.

The tension coiling within you was unbearable, and you knew it wouldn't take much more to send you over the edge. As if sensing this, Kita's fingers found your nipples, pinching hard. You cried out, arching into him, your orgasm ripping through you.

Kita followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he came with a hoarse cry. His grip on you loosened, his movements slowing. He panted, pressing his forehead to yours. You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone.

You felt utterly boneless, spent. But there was a warmth spreading through you, a sense of contentment that was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. Kita looked utterly blissed out, his eyes half-lidded, his expression relaxed.

You brushed a lock of damp hair off his forehead, admiring his profile. He cracked one eye open, gazing at you with affection.

"Are you ready for bed?" he asked softly, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip. You nodded, and he smiled, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before lifting you off his lap and standing.

You let him lead you from the baths, exhaustion beginning to creep in. As he helped you dress, you wondered if the night was truly over. The thought of falling asleep next to him was strangely comforting.

You climbed into bed, watching as he shed his robe and settled beside you. The warmth of his body was soothing, and you nestled closer, draping an arm across his waist. He sighed, pulling you against him.

You lay like that for some time, just listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Finally, sleep claimed you, and you drifted off into the deepest slumber you'd had in months.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | damned if i do ya (damned if i don't)

a/n: oooohhhh i love them bad. the slow burn is slow burning a little bit. btw the song is daylight by 5sos!

series masterlist | previous | next

v. damned if i do ya (damned if i don't) by all time low

all the progress luke thought he was making with you was thrown out the window after the concert. at first, he was glad to have some distance between you guys. he was dealing with sorting out what he felt for you. it was stupid, really, how he realized that you reminded him a lot of his childhood nickelodeon crush, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was more than that. 

sure, you were a fucking headache sometimes, but he liked it. he liked you. he liked how you always tore him a new one, made him feel normal, like he wasn’t luke castellan – lead singer of poisoned mercury, he was just luke when he was with you. you asked him about his music, his life, but knew when to stop right before the conversation got too heavy because you understood him. you knew how he felt even when he didn’t say it. 

maybe he’d just been around his bandmates too much, teenage boys with emotional iqs of a thumbtack, but you took one look at him and he knew that you understood what he was feeling. as great of a writer he was when it came to music, he was never good with expressing how he felt. 

but now, it’s been weeks since you last talked to him, like really talked to him. whenever he’d see you in your smoke spot, he’d try to start a conversation, but you’d stuff your vape in your pocket and walk away before he could even say hi. you stopped going to the gym in the morning, often coming into the cabin after your workout during random times of the day, no longer following a set schedule. you rarely hung out with the boys, opting to retire into your room earlier than usual. you still joined clarisse during her counselor duties, but she stopped letting the boys tag along when luke was available as much as she used to. she’d offer an apologetic smile to luke and slip out an excuse why he couldn’t join for music lessons. 

luke was tired of it. he didn’t know what went wrong, what he did wrong, to make you act so cold towards him. even when you didn’t know him yet, you were never like this. you always had a snide remark ready for him, but now, he was met with silence. 

on the bright side, he at least had inspiration to write new songs. 

he wandered into the cabin, thinking that it would be empty. clarisse was being held hostage at arts and crafts again. (she complained the whole morning about it until chris offered to join her so she wouldn’t be the only one covered in glitter this time.) the stolls were in the studio recording the instrumentals for the song luke showed them a few days ago. they’d asked him who the song was about, though he had a feeling they already knew. he wasn’t really trying to be secretive with the words. and you, luke could only wonder where you were. 

he stopped in his tracks at the sound of mr. d’s voice in your room. your bedroom door was wide open and luke feared that you’d see him so he hid around the corner, back pressed against the wall. 

“this is serious, kid,” mr. d yelled. “your teammate is pressing charges so i need the full story! i don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. this can go on your record permanently.” 

“so let it!” you screamed back. luke heard you pacing around your room, heavy steps against the cabin floors. “i don’t care.” 

“i care! i’ve been pretty goddamn lenient when it comes to you, y/n, but this?” mr. d countered, veins on his neck bulging out as he raised his voice. luke had never seen him like this, “this is fucking serious. you need to tell me exactly what happened.” 

“she was talking about you, okay?” you sobbed. you sat on your bed, hands buried in your open palms. “she said something about your addiction. i don’t fucking know how she found out, but she said something and i just lost it, dad. she was talking out her ass and i just needed her to shut up because she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.” 

mr. d’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. he gulped, not saying a word. your dad looked at the decorated wall of your bedroom, polaroids of you and your friends, your framed high school field hockey jersey, and the concert ticket from the first show he ever took you to. he looked down at the pink rug on your floor, unable to say anything. 

you looked up at him, eyes brimmed with tears, “there, i told you. happy now?” 

it wasn’t long before mr. d stormed out of the cabin. luke flinched as the door slammed shut behind him. he heard you sobbing in your bedroom and he contemplated approaching you. you were already mad at him, for a reason that he still didn’t know, so what the hell? 

with a deep breath, luke emerged from the corner and walked towards your door. his knuckles softly knocked on the open door. you looked up at the noise, rubbing your eyes with your forearm. you chewed on your bottom lip, “not in the mood to argue, castellan.” 

“not here to argue,” he stood under your door frame, leaning against the side. “i’m here to see if you’re okay.” 

you had this habit of running away from things when you knew it had the power to hurt you. it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but your fight or flight response was triggered every time you started catching feelings for someone. it didn’t happen often, you developing actual feelings for people. you developed crushes, sure, but not feelings. 

you didn’t get googly-eyed and love-dumb with guys. you knew better– growing up with a dad who could quite literally transform people’s lives with a snap of his finger made you hyperaware of people’s intentions with you. but sometimes, you get blinded by the guy who sweeps you off your feet and you forget about it all. 

after the concert, you couldn’t stop thinking about luke. you already knew what kind of person he actually was, kind, caring, talented, all of the above, but there was still a nagging voice in your head telling you: “what if this is all an act?” “what if this is his move? pretending to be a different guy from the tabloids just to get you to fall for him then break your heart like everyone else did?” so you fled. you ran away from luke. 

clarisse caught onto you avoiding luke fairly quickly. she no longer saw you two walking into the cabin together in the early mornings when she was getting ready for the day. you started declining invitations to hang out at the activities center, stopped having time to help her with music lessons when the band was tagging along, and started hanging out with her in your room instead of the common space. 

she asked you about it after a week of the same thing. you told her you just weren’t in the mood, lacked energy. you said a million excuses but she could see right through you. you and the lead singer weren’t really subtle with your longing glances. 

you crossed your legs under you, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs. you moved over on your bed, tilting your head to let him inside. luke took his shoes off and closed the door behind him, sock-clad feet tapping against the wooden floors. he sat on the edge of your bed, playing with the stray thread on your blanket. 

“you ever feel like your parents wish they had a different kid?” you whispered, “maybe a kid that wasn’t so difficult?” 

“all the time,” luke replied, “every time my name is in the tabloids, i swear it takes years off my mom’s life.” 

you laughed, sniffling, “you need to take it easy on your mom. she’s too good for this world.” 

“that she is,” he leaned back on his elbows, resting his head on his shoulder. he tapped your leg under the blanket, “you know your dad loves you, right?”

“yeah,” you sighed, looking at luke. your makeup was smudged under your eyes and it took all his power not to lean over to wipe it away. you hunched your shoulders over when you spoke again, “just feels like sometimes i’m too much for him and i don’t know how to stop doing that.” 

“i don’t think you should.” 

it was the truth. you dealt in extremes. you were intense but it was only because you were passionate about things. he’d seen you practicing for hours, staying up late to help the younger kids with their projects even if it wasn’t your job, bossing people around to make sure that the camp activities were perfect. when you put your mind to something, luke knew there was no stopping you. 

“so i’m guessing you heard that whole thing with my dad?” 

“yeah,” luke rubbed the back of his neck. he looked at you, feeling caught that he’d been listening in on your private conversation. “i didn’t know anyone was in here when i walked in.” 

“it’s fine,” you shrugged, “pretty sure the whole camp heard my dad yelling anyways.” 

he laughed, “probably. i’d never seen him like that before. he’s usually so chill. it kinda caught me off guard.” 

“me too.” 

“it’s not as bad as when my mom yells at me though,” luke offered, trying to lighten the mood. he grinned when he saw your eyes brighten. you never did pass up the opportunity to have luke embarrass himself. if he could stop you from crying, he would lay out all his embarrassing stories in front of you for your listening pleasure. “the time she found out that me and trav got banned from wichita, like the whole city, she got so mad that the hotel we were staying at kicked us out because there were so many noise complaints. had to sleep on the bus. my back was killing me the entire time we were playing a show the next day.” 

“what the fuck did you guys do that warranted a ban from the whole city?” 

luke’s cheeks turned pink, “we mooned a cop car.” 

you bursted into uncontrollable laughter, falling back on your pillows. luke watched you, laughing along at your reaction. you were crying again, but it was a good cry this time. luke thought you looked pretty like this; cheeks red, eyes shut as you tried to regain your composure, and smiling, all teeth and lips. he hadn’t seen it in a while and he wanted to take a picture of you right now just so he could always remember how you looked at this moment. he wasn’t sure if he could survive another few weeks without seeing it again.

luke nudged you as your laughter died down, “if shit goes down with your teammate, there will be three of us with a permanent record in this cabin.”

you smiled at him, sadly, voice returning to the hushed tone you used earlier, “you think my dad could forgive me for this?” 

“don’t think anyone could hold a grudge against you even if they tried, five star,” luke placed a hand on your thigh covered by the blanket. he relished in the feeling of the hand you placed over his own. it felt intimate. “what does your mom think about all of this?” 

“i dunno,” you played with the rings on his hand, twisting the silver metals on his fingers, “i haven’t talked to her about it yet. been avoiding her calls.” 

“well, happy to know that i wasn’t the only one getting the silent treatment,” he teased, no bite to his voice. “shit, five star, even with your punishments, you still manage to not make me feel special.” 

you squeezed his hand, a giggle escaping your lips, “shut up.” 

luke looked at you, “you should probably talk to her soon.” 

“i will,” you nodded, meeting his gaze, “soon.” 

the two of you stayed there in silence, you playing with his rings and the bracelets on his arm. you were so enamored by the silver jewelry on his hand, twirling his rings to read each engraving, looking at each design, humming in appreciation. you looked at the camp half blood bracelet on his wrist, recognizing the beads on the string. 

“i can’t believe you got a camp bracelet before i did this summer,” you huffed, admiring the beads. “i’ve been here longer than you and nobody made me one yet.” 

“a little girl made it for me,” luke said, smiling at the memory. “i helped her with her with the production of the song for her summer project and she made it for me.” 

“i didn’t know you also produced music.” luke castellan continued to surprise you. 

“not well,” he replied. “just the basics, but i like to think i helped her out. annabeth— you know her? the kid with perfect pitch. fucking brilliant. smarter than i was at her age.”

“i love beth. i’m pretty sure she’s the smartest 12-year-old to ever exist,” your eyes twinkled, moving your index finger to his own, “what’s the story with this one?”

luke looked down at the ring you were touching. it was the silver ring he bought for himself using his first paycheck from their album sales. it cost him a pretty penny, but it was worth it. the font was tiny, but he memorized the words. 

“aγάπη χωρίς πείσματα δεν έχει νοστιμάδα,” luke said, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. “it’s greek. my mom used to read greek proverbs to me as a child. i think she hoped i’d become the next great philosopher, but instead i became a musician. this phrase stuck with me.”

“what does it mean?”

“love without a bit of stubbornness isn’t tasteful,” he whispered, “it’s a little reminder to myself that even though i can be difficult as shit sometimes, i’m worth it.”

luke cleared his throat, “had a tough time when we first got big. i’m sure you’ve heard of some stories. there was a time when me and my mom didn’t talk much. i thought i knew what was best and i pushed her away. i was so stubborn, five star.” 

“my dad left when i was a kid and for second, i thought i would lose my mom too,” he shook his head, the bitter taste of regret in his mouth as he recalled those memories. “im glad i didn’t. this ring reminds me that no matter how stubborn i am, i still deserve love, y’know? maybe it’s stupid, but sometimes i doubt it. mom always told me that love isn’t supposed to be easy, but it’s supposed to always be worth it– worth all the trouble, the stubbornness, the hurt, so this little phrase keeps me grounded in a weird way.”

“worth it to an extent,” you said. there was something hidden in your words like you were somehow asking him if you fell within the extent of it being worth it. it was in the look in your eye, doubt and worry that maybe you pushed it too far this time and you were no longer worth the fight. 

“extent is subjective. i know my mom thinks i’m worth it. i know that no matter how much me and the stolls get into fights, our friendship is worth it. i know that even though me and chris grew up to be different people, our bond is worth it,” luke leaned in closer as if he was going to tell you a secret, something that stays between you and him, only allowed to be spoken within the walls of your room. “and you, five star–” 

he couldn’t finish his sentence. his words got caught in his throat. he was afraid that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. he didn’t know if there was a universe out there where fighting for you wouldn’t be worth it. had you been thinking about him all this time you’d been apart? have your thoughts been plagued by the idea of him? all he could think of was you. all his songs were about you. it seemed like everything had been about you since he met you. 

is it too much too soon to even say things like that? luke didn’t know where you stood, if you even felt the same way about him as he did about you. how evil must the world be to have you exist in his orbit but not allow him to fight for you? 

the corner of your lips lifted a tiny bit and luke knew he didn’t need to say anything else. you understood. 

luke wanted to stop you when you removed your hand from his, but he didn’t want to test his luck. you dug through the drawer by your bed, pulling out the familiar vape, “i could really go for a smoke right now but this stupid thing died.” 

an idea popped into luke’s mind. he got up, motioning for you to do the same. you stayed seated on your bed, eyebrow raised in concern. 

“come on,” luke sighed, playfully rolling his eyes when you still refused to get up. he held out his hand, looking down at you. “you trust me?” 

you glanced at him then at his hand, deciding. it felt like a loaded question, like he was asking about something more than if you’d go with him to whatever adventure he had planned for the both of you. his heart hammered in his chest as he waited for your answer. you didn’t say anything to his question, unsure if you could rationalize your decision, but when you laced your fingers with his, luke didn’t let go of your hand until you were both out of the campgrounds.

[buffyromanoff]

Little By Little

Summary: Your girlfriend is dealing with ptsd after a difficult secret mission and its your duty to let her know she doesn't have to hide her pain from you. This is a sequel to ''Let it out'' but also works as a oneshot so don't worry if you havent read it ;)

Warnings: Ptsd related panic attack.

Genre: Slight angst, fluffy comfort

Word count: 1114

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

The small but heavy paws of Liho walking all over your body woke you up. "Mghrr," you mumbled sleepily. "Morning, sweetheart," Nat said as she gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. Last night, she had fallen asleep in your arms, but now you were the one being held by her strong embrace.

"Your cat hates me," your groggy voice said, making her laugh.

"Well, technically it's our cat now."

Liho curled up next to her, purring.

"Are you feeling better today, Natty?"

She smiled. "You're pretty darn cute when you wake up, malyshka." Of course, she ignored the question. "Also, when you call me Natty, it makes me feel young again… It's weird how the smallest gestures can make such a big difference, isn't it?"

You yawned before sitting up and kissing your girlfriend on her plump lips. "Oh, okay grandma," you teased her.

"Oh, c'mon y/n, you know what I mean, silly."

You knew Natasha had a dark past and it made you emotional to have these little cute moments with her at home. You knew she felt the same way. She longed for a normal domestic life and loved being part of a family, no matter how small or big. Right now, having Liho and you was more than enough for her.

After some morning cuddles, you got up and made breakfast for the two of you. The need to demand her to open up and tell you what happened during her last mission was extremely strong, but you knew you didn't want to push her, considering her current mental state and the bad panic attack she had last night.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing you say is ever going to scare me or push me away, you know?" God, you were not subtle.

"Mhm," she nodded and then continued eating her pancakes in silence. "Thanks for breakfast." She stood up, giving you a quick kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen.

"She's mad, great job, y/n," you thought to yourself. Why couldn't you just leave her alone? Why couldn't you let her come to you instead of pushing her to talk? Although… you just told her that you were there for her. That's not bad, is it?

In an attempt to stop overthinking, you decided to go grocery shopping.

"Nat?" You peeked into the home gym you and Nat had. She was boxing. Her punches were frantic,and sweat was covering her bruised skin. "Yea?" Her fists still swinging. "Going to the store, do you need anything?" you asked her.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"You're absolutely sure you don't need anything?" It was clear you were not just talking about groceries.

Natasha stopped punching the bag and walked towards you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "I'm alright, babe. Go ahead. I promise I'll be less sweaty when you come back."

--

You opened the door, holding paper bags filled with groceries, letting some of them drop to the floor. "Shit."

Nat walked in, letting out a small chuckle. "Here, let me help you." She grabbed the bags and started sorting them out.

"You smell good," you kissed her hello, "no stinky gym stench," you joked, making her laugh. "Exactly as I promised," she replied.

"Gonna make some coffee, you want some?" You looked at her and smiled. "You know I always do."

The two of you were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and watching some random TV show.

"That guy kinda looks like Tony, don't you think?" you said, pointing to the TV.

"I went back to the red room," Natasha let out a nervous sigh, "He's dead now."

She definitely took you by surprise.

"You mean Dreyk-" Nat interrupted you before you could finish saying the evil man's name. "Yeah…and his daughter—all the other widows, they're free now." The redhead was doing her best to keep it together.

"Oh my goodness, Nat…that's great news!" You were expecting her to smile back at you, but she didn't.

"I want to tell you more about it. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't trust you enough to share my feelings, but-"

"Baby, it's okay. I know it's hard for you to open up. I'm so proud of you for trying," you spoke in the sweetest tone.

She was trying to say something, but her breathing was accelerating, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, c'mere, baby, you're alright." You pulled her close to you, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I love you so much, remember to breathe in deep and then let it out slowly, okay?" Luckily, it was easier for her to calm down, considering there was no sensory trigger this time.

"I don't know what I would do without you, y/n." It was still strange for you to see your girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but that just made you realize how much you truly loved her and that you were willing to do anything to protect her.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Natty."

The TV show kept playing in the background as the two of you snuggled, and of course, Liho joined you.

"Y/n, I forgot to tell you something," Nat said.

"You can tell me more about it tomorrow. Take your time, darling." You caressed her cheek with your fingers.

"No, no, it's something else." Her tone was definitely different now, more relaxed.

"Oh, okay then, spill." You replied with curiosity.

"My… my family is coming to visit," she looked you in the eyes.

"Cool! I haven't seen them in AGES! I actually have something I want to give to Steve, an old vinyl he might like-"

"No, it's not them… it's my other family," she said, and you couldn't look more confused. "From Russia."

"WHAT?! How come you never talked to me about them?!" You were shocked but mostly excited by this new information, and that made your girlfriend smile. "I have a younger sister, Yelena. I feel you'll get along."

"Oh my god?! When is she coming? When are THEY coming? Oh, and is she a widow like you? Is-"

"Okay, okay, slow down there, detective," Nat interrupted. "Yes, she is a widow like me. And they're coming over next week. Yelena, Melina, and Alexei."

"I'm so excited, Natty." You hugged her.

"I don't know if I am, to be honest… they can be quite embarrassing," she let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, then I'm even more excited. Can't wait to hear embarrassing stories about you," you teased, and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm SO gonna regret this."

[starshower1215]

Hange Zoë and the Vets Headcanons: University/Modern AU

Though many are unaware, Hange is an artist. They like to go out and find interesting buildings, sit down for a good view and sketch it into their sketchpad. They do this for other things as well; a nicely shaped leaf, a lost shoe, an interesting rock.

Sometimes, they collect cool stones or sticks off the paths on the way to class and then gives them to Mike for a sniff test.

Walking to and from classes, Hange plays podcasts or listens to the audios of various educational videos.

They have a very cool room/dormitory. Yes, it is messy almost all of the time, but it is an organized mess. Hange has plant shaped pillows, terrariums, a touch-activated moon lamp that they use for late nights, walls of shelves filled with the textbooks and novels collected over the years, pinned up sketches of the things they see, plants hanging from their ceiling, a soft carpet because they love working on the floor, a corner desk... just a lot of stuff.

I imagine Hange is actually quite fond of stuffed animals as well. They find them useless, yes, but they make nice friends and study buddies. (I think Erwin would have gifted them a stuffed lizard). They line them up on the bed so that they can watch them study, and sometimes they practice their speeches, verbalize their essay outlines, or simply present their discoveries and ideas to the pretend audience.

On Friday nights, Hange is dragged away from their work by Nanaba and Mike to then go drag Erwin and Levi to go drinking.

Levi hauls Hange back to their dorm room every Friday night, where they pass out on the stuffed animals. Levi tries to sleep there, too, sometimes, if it is too late to get back to his place. Unfortunately, the stuffed animals' eyes disturb him. He may make a late night call to Petra for company, since they're usually the only ones at least a little bit sober. Petra complains to him about Gelgar vomiting on her shoes.

Hange takes a lot of pride in keeping their lab coat in good condition. The more surprising fact is that it is in good condition, and affectionately adorned with colorful pins and brooches.

While prodding from Levi to tidy up their room usually results in fondly irritated sighs and grumbling, Mike's invitation-like demands for them to tag along with him to the gym are met with much more positivity.

Every now and then, a full group hangout is called and they — Hange, Erwin, Levi, Nanaba, Mike, Petra, Oluo, Gelgar, Nifa, Moblit, who am I missing? — pick somewhere to go for the day. Usually it's the park or the beach, because few public places can handle their level of chaos and volume, so they kick a ball around, race one other, arm wrestle one other on park tables, and just enjoy the sun.

Hange's shoes always wear out quickly from all the walking around that they do. Their clothes always end up being torn or stained by the things they pick up, and they spend an unnecessary amount of time trying to clean them. They've taken to wearing Erwin's shoes when they're waiting for theirs to be delivered (much to his distaste).

Speaking of clothing, the heavy duty of being Fashion Police falls upon the capable shoulders of Mike, Levi, and Nanaba. Levi likes to check the material of the fabric for quality, Mike likes to make sure the outfit is coordinated by style and in style, and Nanaba likes to coordinate the colors, finding the things that compliment eyes and complexion. They are scrupulous with this, they'll take Hange and Erwin around the stores, have them fitted into clothing, turn them around and around in circles to scrutinize. Hange appreciates the help, and probably just reads while they make comments to one another. Erwin does not need the help, but finds it amusing and indulges them.

While Hange draws still life, Moblit loves drawing people. He follows his friends around and sketches them from life— the motion of muscle beneath Erwin's skin on a run or during a workout, the subtlety of the shifts in Levi's expressions during classes from confusion to intrigue to awe, the swift movements of Hange's body when they're excited about something. He also likes to sit at cafes and sketch strangers.

Levi has a part time job at a cafe. Hange often stops by with Erwin and Mike, and the three of them tease him at the counter before buying their morning drinks and breakfast. I feel like Hange and Erwin would like blueberry muffins.

Nanaba does not indulge their teasing for oddly private reasons, and goes to say hello to Levi on her own. They chat at the counter for long enough to make Levi's coworkers curious about the nature of their relationship, and then Nanaba buys herself a coffee and Levi a cup of tea and a pastry. He likes to slip her a free cookie or pastry puff every now and then, too, and if a bit of his money ends up in the cash box, well, it's no one else's business.

Hange is overwhelmed a lot, and easily. They are a free spirit, not to be held down by the demands of school life, but alas, society calls for discipline in order to obtain survival. Therefore, Grandmother Levi made them a quilt to use as a picnic blanket/meditation mat on the grass to protect their pants from grass stains. Hange uses it every day, between lectures to eat their lunch, to watch the sunset, to stargaze, to just feel the earth beneath their back and watch the clouds float by.

When all the other veterans, ahem, graduate from the school, Hange lies beside Levi on the quilt and, to cure their sudden, mutual dislike for the new quiet of their days, invites him to share an apartment with them.

Hange is terrible at checking messages. They are the most inactive member in every group chat and they respond maybe once every couple of days. Not only because they're busy often, but because of the overwhelming factor as well.

Erwin likes to ruin his outfits by wearing crazy socks. He may have on the most elegant, dapped outfit ever known to mankind, but the moment he sits down and the ankle of his bottoms ride up, there are his cup noodle print socks, or his frilly strawberry socks from Mike the Bully, or rainbow socks that everyone looks into a bit too much. He has a collection, mind you, an entire display of silly socks and an abundant lack of shame.

This was much longer than intended, but my favorite one of these was definitely the one about Levi and Nanaba.

[outsideratheart]

Hope (Alexia Putellas x reader)

After your revelation at the Bernabéu Alexia seems to be more persistent that ever to make amends with you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your best friend back it was that you didn’t want to give her a sliver of your heart and risk her breaking it again.

You made the decision to project yourself. You would put yourself first and Alexia second.

Not even a month after the El Classico you had national team camp. For once you weren’t dreading seeing Alexia but you wasn’t looking forward to it either. It’s like part of you accepted that she would be in your life but you could determine how much of you she got. 

You had just arrived at the Las Rojas facility when you and Alexia were taken into a meeting to discuss your upcoming schedules. As soon as it was over you left. It wasn’t like it last for ages, in fact in lasted no longer than 20 minutes but you wanted to go to your room and unpack before the light gym session that had been scheduled.

“Y/N wait!” Alexia shouts. 

You don’t have to turn around to know she is running after you, her heavy footsteps give her away. You stop as you enter the elevator, holding your hand out so she can join you. 

“What is is Alexia?” 

When the doors close you begin to feel uneasy. The close proximity between you creates an unwelcome tension. 

At first, neither of you speak. Instead you focus on the level number, the two of you watching them increase with every floor you pass. 

“Alba told me that the two of you went out when she was in Madrid. She won’t talk to me about you but I know she misses you”

“I was punishing her for something she played no part of” you see Alexia shrink in her place and you cannot help but feel a little guilty “Sorry that was—“

“The truth” 

“Still it was uncalled for. I do want to forgive you but it will take a while”

The doors open and you are quick to leave. Alexia doesn’t move though. Your words having filled her with hope that one day you will give her another chance. 

“I’ll wait, along as it takes” 

Now it was your turn to stop in your tracks. You turn to face alexia to see that she is already looking in your direction but she makes no effort to move. 

“I will Y/N”

It was as if she was making a promise. One that you never asked her to make nor was it one you wanted to hear.

Whilst things wasn’t back to normal, things between you and Alexia were getting better. Given it was mostly on the pitch or the way you partnered up to motivate each other in the gym. Even off the pitch you were able to be in the same room as each other without trying to make the other drop dead with your stares. 

A few days later Spain beats Farrow Island 12-0. You scored 4 goals, all coming from assists by Alexia and you assisted her two goals as well. The captains were making a statement and sending a warning to the other teams around the world.

Back the the hotel the team were celebrating by having a pizza night in one of the common areas. 

You know that the team have sensed a shift between you and Alexia, it would be impossible for them not to.

“So now we like Y/N again?” Mapi asks. 

The room was filled with both Barcelona and Real Madrid players but the latter was the minority. 

“What are you talking about? You don’t like Y/N, why?” Athenea asks. She was one of the few players who didn’t know the past you and Alexia shared. 

“She hurt Alexia. They were best friends and Y/N turned her back on her with no explanation” Mapi explains. 

Unbeknownst to the defender, you and Alexia had just finished your media duties and were joining your team mates. 

“If she did that to Alexia than she will do it any of us. I cannot be friends with someone like that”

You can’t believe what you are hearing, well actually you could but hearing them say it out loud breaks your heart. 

“It’s a good job we don’t need to be friends then Maria” your response caught the attention of the entire room and all eyes fell on you. 

When you turn to leave having suddenly lost your appetite and the desire to socialise, Alexia grabs your hand stopping you from doing do. The look in her eyes tells you exactly what she is about to do. 

“Alexia, no” 

“It time they knew, it’s time that they apologise for the way they have been treating you” Alexia’s tone was firm, she was using her captain’s voice. 

“Us apologise to her. She should be apologising to you” Patri retorts. 

“No. I was the one that needed to apologise to her” 

You found it ironic that Alexia felt the need to protect you now when it was her who hurt you in the first place. 

“Alexia. Stop. I want you to stop talking” you felt rage build inside you. You were desperately trying to move on from this and her telling everyone would only make it harder. 

Alexia ignores your request and continues. 

“As you know me and Jenni broke up a couple of months before the World Cup. After we were knocked out I told Y/N I loved her and I meant it” at this point she turns to you but you refuse to meet her gaze. 

“Then I came back to Barcelona” 

You hear Jenni mumble something under her breathe and you know she is making the connections in her head. 

“Y/N wanted to surprise me and when she turned up at my house but instead she saw me and Jenni kissing”

“Y/N I had no idea. Im so—“

“Don’t apologise Jenni, like you said you didn’t know”

“But you and Jenni got back together” Patri quizzed her friend. 

“After that night Y/N didn’t speak to me, she wanted nothing to do with me and I don’t blame her but at the time I didn’t know she saw us and then she stopped talking to me and refused to see me unless it was to do with the team”

You hear several people begin to apologise. 

“I don’t care for your apologises. Any of them” 

With that you storm out of the room. You feel your chest tighten and your breathes deepen as anger consumes you. 

“Y/N” hers was the last voice you wanted to hear right now. 

“Why did you do that? Why are you dredging up the past?”

“I did it for you”

“No Alexia, you did it for you. You feel guilty that I lost some of my closest friends because of what you did so you needed to confess. If you cared for me at all you would have listened to me and never brought it up. I am trying to move on, no I have moved on. It’s time for you to do the same”

Alexia didn’t like the way you phrased your sentence. You have moved on. The tone in which you said it and the look you had on your face. You weren’t talking about Alexia and she knew it, she just didn’t want to think it true. 

************

4 days later you found yourself on a flight to Scotland. If the team wins this game then they will qualify for the World Cup. You were looking forward to it knowing that the team have been working really hard and they should beat the home side. 

“Y/N!” Pina waved her hand in front of your face to get your attention. 

After numerous attempts at apologising you finally decided to forgive the girls for their treatment of you in the past. You weren’t back to how you were but it’s a lot better than it was. 

“Sorry, I was ju—“ you put your phone into your pocket as you turned your attention to the young forward. 

“texting your—“

“Mis” you shake your head, your way of warning her not to finish her sentence. 

 “What were you saying?” You ask. 

You see the way your team mates are looking at you. They can tell you are keeping something from them. 

“She was telling you that some of us are going for breakfast in the morning. Did you want to come? We haven’t been able to bond as a team on our past trips so we thought” Mapi tells you. 

“I would love but I have plans, sorry”

You see the look on the defender face. Out of everyone Mapi didn’t believe that you forgave her and that you only said it for the sake of the team. 

“Maria, don’t look at me like that. I really do want to come but I made plans before we made up, in fact I made them before I even arrived at camp. I’ll text you when I done, maybe I could meet up with you then?” 

Your attempt at comprising seems to have worked. Everyone was happy with the outcome, everyone but Alexia. 

When the team arrived at the hotel. You were assigned room and as always you are sharing with Nahikari. 

“Are you going to tell them?” She asks whilst watching you unpack. 

“We talked before she left. We’re not going to confirm it but we aren’t going to hide it either” 

The lack of response from your friend causes you to face her. There she sits on her bed with a huge smirk on her face. 

“Shut up!” You throw one of your hoodies at her. 

“I didn’t say anything and I’m keeping this” she throws the article of clothing on top of her suitcase. 

“You’re in looovvvveee” Nahikari teases. 

“I’m not but I am open to it” your own admission catches got off guard. After all this time were you really ready to give someone your heart again? 

A knock on the door pulls you out of your thought. 

“Alexia, come in. I was just leaving” Nahikari says which is news to you considering you were in the middle of a conversation, one that was about to get very deep. 

once she in in your room Alexia walks straight towards the window. She looks at the view from your room, it wasn’t special just the high street so you knew something else was on her mind. 

“Alexia”

When she turns to face you her body language gives you nothing, it is unreadable but when you look into her eyes you can see she is hurt. 

“You said you were going to forgive me” she says and you can hear the vulnerability in her voice. 

“I said I wanted to but I don’t think I can” you knew you had to be honest with her if you stood any chance of have a friendship with her. 

“So what, we keep going on like we are strangers”

You never imagined that the word strangers would be used to describe you and alexia. Two people that cared deeply for each other, who would be joined at the hip whenever they were together and two people that were once best friends.

“I never said that. I don’t have to forgive or forget in order to move on”

“But you haven’t moved on Y/N. You’re living in the past and I don’t know what else I can do”

“I have moved on but not in the way you want me to” 

*****************

Two days later, you find yourself at the front of the line ready to lead your team out. You and Alexia spoke and decided that the best person to lead the team during this match was you. In fact it was her idea which you found strange. Then again since arriving in Scotland Alexia had been weird around you. It’s like she has been avoiding you but doing so whilst been around you. 

The game ends 2-0. You get pulled away to do media but you watch your team talk to the Scottish players. You spoke English very well, you were the best of the team but even you found the Scottish accent difficult to understand so you can only imagine the difficulty your friends be must experiencing.

“Hello you” you are greeted by the person that had been catching your eye for the last 90 minutes. 

You immediately pull her into your arms as she buries her face in the crook of your neck and in response you place a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“I’m sorry we beat you” 

You can feel her smile against your neck. 

“No you’re not but the sentiment is sweet” 

“You’re right I’m not but I have no doubt that you will be joining us next summer” 

“I hope so” 

“Caroline, listen to me. I may have only been playing with you for a couple of months but in that time I have seen what you can do and tonight I saw what you bring to this team”

“Thank you Y/N. Ermm” she begins rubbing the back of her neck. “My parent/ are sitting over there” Caroline points the the family & friends section “they would like to meet you” 

“I would love to” you follow your girlfriend over to the stands.

Alexia watches the two of you from the other side of the pitch. Seeing you happy makes her happy but it hurts knowing that she isn’t the reason for your happiness. What shocks her more is when she sees Caroline introduce you to her family. This along with the hand holding and the way you sneakily kiss her cheek confirms what Alexia has been thinking for the past couple of days. 

“She was going to tell you but she didn’t know how” Nahikari tells her.

“I thought there was a chance, I still love her Nahikari, I never stopped. Not when I was with Jenni and not when we were at our lowest. It had always been Y/N and now I’ve lost her”

[euphorajeon]

between grocery trips and boxing sessions, where do we stand? | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff | college!au, boxer!jk, childhood friend!jk, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers

— word count: 3.3k

— warnings: harsh words, tattooed and pierced jk (eyebrow and lip), making out, both jk and oc being idiots

— summary: after too many trips to the grocery store and boxing gym, the blurry lines start clouding your vision. he’s determined to set things straight—his way.

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

Cleaning duty sucks.

You have been aware of this fact ever since you were little, when your mom would tell you to help her clean around the kitchen while she was cooking. Back then, it was only as simple as helping her keep the counter clean by throwing plastic wrappers into the trash can. You soon realized, though, that life wasn’t gonna be that simple forever as you hauled trash bags outside on the daily.

As you grow even older, you learn that cleaning goes far beyond throwing the trash out.

“... don’t forget to vacuum the floor, wipe the kitchen counter after you cook, and oh— please change my bedsheets and do the laundry, okay sweetie? We’ll be back next week. Love you!”

That was your mom’s farewell message as she got into the car with your dad, off to a vacation in a location unknown to you. Apparently they thought it was a good idea to go on a vacation when you’re home because then they wouldn’t have to worry about the house being empty and dirty when they’re away. You almost felt offended that they were treating you like a housekeeper, but you guess they deserved some alone time away from you after taking care of you for the past 19 years.

Suddenly feeling obligated to repay what they have done for you for all your life, you start checking off things in the mental note you made of the list your mom gave you. You vacuumed the floor, did the laundry, changed the sheets in your parents’ bedroom, wiped the kitchen squeaky clean, even made time to water your mom’s plants even though she didn’t ask you to do it. All in one day.

By the time you finish everything and have taken a shower, it’s nearing midnight and your whole body is too sore and heavy to even get yourself to bed. You take refuge in the living room couch, one arm over your eyes because you really don’t have the energy to get up and turn the lights off. Maybe putting this off until the last minute was a terrible idea after all.

The soft couch cushion you’re lying on makes it so easy to slip into slumber, like a lullaby welcoming you to sleep with its open arms. You don’t even care that the room is still bright or the fact that you don’t have a blanket on, you still let sleep take you away. It doesn’t occur to your tired mind that you haven’t even locked the doors yet.

You’ve only been asleep for a few minutes when your mind registers faint murmurs from a person who’s sitting by your waist on the couch.

“.... she’s fine …”

“... asleep now, yeah …”

“... yes, I will, okay …”

“ … yeah, no problem. Bye.”

There’s a split second of fear upon realizing you were supposed to be alone in the house right now, but something about the person’s voice sounds so familiar that you find yourself relaxing rather quickly. When you crack one eye open to check, a pair of round eyes stares back at you with worry. You close your eyes again with a groan.

“What are you doing here.”

He doesn’t answer your question and instead nudges your arm away from your face so he can press his palm against your forehead. The warmth it provides you is so fleeting that when he pulls away you find yourself wanting to reach for his hand to put it back on your forehead. (You hate how weak you are to his body warmth.)

He is obviously unaware of your inner dilemma and he sounds upset as he says his next words.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Do you know how worried I was when I received a call from your mom sobbing, saying that she hadn’t been able to reach you for the past hour? Do you know how fast I was driving just to get here as soon as possible? Do you even have any idea how upset I am right now to find you sleeping on the couch? Why are you sleeping on the couch anyway?”

His increasing volume is too loud for your still-hazy mind and you flail your arms around to get him to shut up. After taking some time to process his train of concern, your focus is set on one thing:

“Why did my mom call you of all people?”

“That’s the only thing you heard from my abundance of questions? Seriously?” He sounds offended. “Find your phone. I’m going to sleep here because apparently I can’t leave you unsupervised for one day without you going MIA and causing everyone to panic.”

He gets up from the couch and you open your eyes to see him headed for the door. You just realize that he’s in his gym clothes, hair still wet with perspiration. Was he in the middle of a boxing session when your mom called? How bad was it that he didn’t think to shower first before going straight to your home?

You decide to ignore the weird feeling in your chest that arose after those thoughts, choosing to instead search for your phone like Jeongguk told you to. You find it lying next to the television, run out of battery because you had used Spotify on it while you were cleaning all day. Clearly plugging it into the charger had slipped your mind when you were busy being exhausted after deep-cleaning your house and its contents.

Jeongguk comes back into the house with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, confirming your suspicion earlier that he came straight from a boxing session. He locks the door behind him and faces you with a stern look on his face.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. “Please don’t do anything stupid while I do.”

You roll your eyes. “My phone was dead and I fell asleep! It wasn’t stupid!”

He’s already turning around but has time to slip in a last comment over his shoulder. “Stupid enough to make your mom call your boyfriend while crying.”

This man just won’t give you a break. First he came barging into your house, yelled at you when you were half-asleep, dumped information about your mom calling him while crying, announced he was going to spend the night here, and now he calls himself your boyfriend?

What the hell is going on?

You plug your phone into the charger and wait for it to turn back on. It takes a while, and when it does you almost have a headache from how many missed calls there are from your mom. There are a few from your dad too, and even three from Jeongguk himself. It’s no wonder he had hurried straight home from the gym, your mom must have called him while spewing nonsense about how she was afraid that you were kidnapped or something.

You send a text to both your parents to assure them that you are okay before putting your phone down to let it charge. The absence of the device from your hand makes you suddenly aware of the faint sounds from the bathroom, reminding you that you are no longer alone in the house.

“Jeon Jeongguk! Don’t use my shampoo!”

You’re falling asleep again in the exact same spot when a freshly-showered Jeongguk dumps his body on top of yours, completely disregarding the fact that his big build could crush you. You try to shove him off you but he makes himself a dead weight, refusing to budge. You wonder how this man still has this much strength when he just got back from exercising half an hour prior.

“I’m sorry,” he says from his position on your chest. “For yelling at you. I was really worried and scared that something bad had happened to you.”

You feel his words more than you hear them, half because of his position and the other half because he lets them out in a sound above a whisper. He sounds genuinely sorry for once, the usual playful undertones gone from his voice. You pat his back softly to let him know he doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“But seriously though, what were you doing that you were completely off the grid? Your mom was almost hysterical when she called me, you know.” He splays his hands on your stomach, propping his chin on them in order to look at your face.

“Cleaning,” you mumble out. “Mom told me to deep-clean the house while she’s away and I put it off until today because a certain someone couldn’t stop bothering me for the past week.”

Your eyes are still closed so you can’t see the expression Jeongguk is making in response to your answer, but you’re pretty sure he’s scoffing right now.

“I was supervising you,” he says. “Also don’t act like you hate spending time with me, I still remember that one time you drooled over my muscles while I was boxing.”

“Shut up or I’m kicking you out.”

“How exactly are you going to do that? You’re currently stuck between the couch and my very muscly body and I have my big arms around your body, you’re literally trapped.” As if to prove his point, his hold on your waist tightens just a fraction. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“Dreamland, that’s where I’m going.” You put your arm over your eyes again, a sign that you’re done dealing with this human being on your stomach. “Good night, Jeongguk.”

“Aw, come on,” Jeongguk whines. “You have your boyfriend in your home, your parents are away, and it’s only a little past midnight. Other girls would kill for an opportunity like this and all you wanna do is sleep?”

You heave out a huge sigh before opening your eyes to look at him with an annoyed expression on your face.

“Okay, first, I’m not ‘other girls’—” You make air quotation marks with your hands. “—and I just really want to go to sleep right now. Second, you’re gross. Third, you’re not my boyfriend. Stop saying you are.”

At that, he lifts himself off you but keeps hovering, his figure casting a shadow over you. “Hold on. What do you mean I’m not your boyfriend?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’??”

He sounds confused. You sound even more confused.

The bewildered expression on his face doesn’t falter as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. “I, me, Jeon Jeongguk—” he points at himself with every word he says, “—am your boyfriend. You—” he points at you, “—are my girlfriend. Aren’t you??”

Your mouth is agape. “Since when??”

“Since the day I got here and you stared at my tattoos and piercings and we made out on this very couch?”

“What makes you think that makes me your girlfriend??”

“Well, you did kiss me first.”

“You tempted me to!”

“Ah, so you admit my lips are tempting?”

You pull at your hair in frustration, barely holding a scream in. Jeongguk looks like he’s having the time of his life teasing you like this.

“My point is,” you say through gritted teeth, “kissing each other doesn’t make us boyfriend and girlfriend. It takes way more shit to be my boyfriend.”

“Like what?” Jeongguk challenges.

“Oh I don’t know.. going on dates? Tell me you like me? Ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?”

You glare when he only chuckles as if you’re the one being ridiculous and not him. Sometimes you wonder if the gears in his head are working right; it seems like they malfunctioned at some point and are now turning backwards, resulting in his absurd behavior.

“We go on dates though?” When you only respond with a frown, he elaborates. “Grocery shopping dates?”

“That’s— that’s not a date, that’s me trying to shop in peace while trying to stop you from throwing anything and everything into the cart and potentially making us go over the budget limit.”

“Okay, guilty.” Jeongguk puts his hands up in mock surrender. “But I take you to my boxing sessions too! That’s a date! Kinda.. sorta..” he trails off with a guilty grin. You’re not convinced at all.

Heaving a sigh, you feel all of the energy in your body evaporate just from dealing with the boy in front of you. It doesn’t help that it’s almost two in the morning and your whole body is still sore from cleaning the house for the entire day.

“I don’t know how you can look like that but be clueless about this kinda thing,” you mumble, yawning before continuing your sentence. “If you want someone to be your girlfriend, tell her how you feel properly. Show her that you like her, that you want to be with her. Dragging her around and kissing her unprompted is not the way to do it, Jeongguk.”

“I don’t see it as dragging you around, though,” he says with a frown. “I ask you to go with me because I want you there with me. I never needed help choosing the brand for the milk my mom asked for because we always get the same brand every time. I just like the way you argued with me in the dairy aisle because I insisted that my mom wanted skimmed milk instead of whole milk. It was cute that you remembered how I had thrown up after drinking a glass of skimmed milk when I was twelve. The little things, you know?”

His somber expression lights up when he grins cheekily. “As for the boxing sessions, I just like watching you drool over my muscles and deny it when you’re caught.”

You grab a pillow closest to you and smack him square in the face with it.

“Alright, alright. I wanted to impress you with my boxing skills and show you that I’m no longer that skinny kid you knew in grade school. Like, ‘I’m cool now would you please look at me’ kinda way.”

You relent after his confession. “Yeah, alright, you’re cool now. Still though, all of that is useless because you didn’t say anything about wanting me to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah.. sorry about the lack of words. But I did show you a lot how much I wanted to be your boyfriend, like this.”

He leans forward and captures your lips with his.

Your mind immediately focuses on how his lip ring feels against your lips, the piece of silver never failing to make you feel things even after countless times of tasting it between your lips. You wonder if the reason he got the piercing in the first place was to make anyone who kisses him crazy and become addicted to kissing his lips, because you sure are. (But you won’t admit it directly to his face.)

You’re enjoying the way his lips press against yours when he groans in protest, hands reaching for your waist to pull you on his lap. You put your arms around his neck and he takes that as a cue to pull your body flush against his. All the while never breaking contact between his lips and yours.

When you’re playing with his lip ring with your tongue, you feel his lips lift up into a smirk, making you realize you have fallen into a trap so perfectly set you didn’t even see it coming. You pull away abruptly to give this boy a piece of your mind, but any thoughts you previously have are gone when he moves down and plants open-mouthed kisses down your throat.

“Still loving the ring, I see,” he says hotly against your skin. He trails his kisses upwards to your earlobe with his tongue peeking out, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Should I get one on my tongue too? Bet it would feel so much better than the one on my lip.”

The mental image of Jeon Jeongguk with piercings on both his lip and tongue is so dangerous that you will yourself to voice your objection aloud. “P-please don’t.”

“Why not?” he taunts. “I can already see you sucking on it, tugging on it with your own tongue.” He makes his way back down and is now mouthing at your collarbone. Kisses escalate into bites and you have to hold down a moan when he starts sucking at the spot. “Would feel amazing when I run my tongue on your lips.. the other lips too..”

You shudder thinking about the endless possibilities. And that is exactly why you need to stop this boy from getting a tongue piercing just for the sole purpose of riling you up.

“Y-you know.. this is not h-how you convince someone to be y-your girlfriend..”

“Hm.. really?” he nips at your neck and you yelp. “You seem to be enjoying this just fine.”

“Am n-not..”

“Say that again and I’ll make sure to use my lip ring on your other lips to shut you up.”

You bite your tongue in fear he will do as he says. There’s only so much you can take in one night.

“Good girl,” he says before crashing his lips back on yours.

In the morning, you find yourself waking up on the couch with Jeongguk splayed on top of you like a human body pillow. His head is on your chest, his messy hair sticking out in a hundred different directions. You belatedly realize that his hair smells like yours, which can only mean that he used your shampoo when showering last night. Must have missed your mind when you were occupied by another part of his body.

Him being on top of you makes you mostly immobile, only being able to move your arms around. So you settle on wrapping them around his frame, one hand reaching for his head so you can run your fingers through his hair slowly. The action is so soothing that you soon find yourself closing your eyes and slipping back to sleep.

You jolt awake, though, when your mom’s voice sounds from above you.

“Honey, you’re awake, right? Wake your boyfriend so you can have breakfast, I made omelettes.” She gestures to Jeongguk with the word boyfriend and you wonder if the sleeping boy told your parents that you are dating. That would explain why she called him when she couldn’t reach you last night.

You’re just about to shake him awake when he lets out a chuckle, letting you know he’s already awake. “You heard that, babe? Even your mom thinks I’m your boyfriend.”

“You told her that, didn’t you?” You scoff. “How long have you been awake?”

“A few minutes, maybe. Woke up to you playing with my hair and didn’t want you to stop so I stayed quiet.” He lets out a big yawn before nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. “And no, I didn’t tell her anything. Maybe she just assumed we were dating because we make out all the time.”

“You’re really gross.” You pull at his hair a bit harshly but instead of groaning in pain, he does so in pleasure. “Oh yeah, baby, get kinky with me.”

“Oh my God, get lost.”

He chuckles again before planting a soft kiss on your neck, the gesture so soft you can’t believe that he just made a dirty joke a few seconds prior.

“So.. we’re dating now, right? I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t know, you never asked.”

“I did last night!” Jeongguk claims, accosted. “And you said yes, although I doubt you remember because you were pretty out of it after I kissed you senseless for hours.”

“Alright, I remember now. Though I also remember that it’s with the condition that you never entertain the thought of getting a tongue piercing ever again.”

“Can’t you reconsider? It’ll feel amazing on your lips, on your chest, on your—”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

Jeongguk laughs. “Love you, girlfriend.”

(Between grocery trips and boxing sessions, this one might just be your favorite.)

— a/n: thank you for reading! :) tell me your thoughts here

[chxrrylime]

❝ 58 hours. ❞

Inspired by this post.

Ghost x Soap ↪ 1544 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive Ghost, cis male dominant Soap, mild dubious consent, sleepy sex, minor somnophilia, erectile dysfunction, anal sex, anal fingering, unsafe sex, breeding kink, fem terms used to describe cis male character's genitals, mention of pregnancy, and coming untouched.

Despite his exhaustion, Soap is steady with the key, sliding it easily into the lock and using the same hand to open the door. 

He slips carefully into the dim room, mindful of the bag over his shoulder as the door creaks shut with a quiet click. 

There’s a buzzing lamp on the nightstand, the shade darkened, casting a sickly yellow hue upon the large, still form in the small military-issue bed. 

Ghost’s prone form lays stomach first above the sheets, plain black balaclava pulled snug on his head, one arm tucked beneath his head while the other dangles over the edge, limp fingers brushing the floor inches from where Ghost keeps his knives tucked underneath the metal frame. 

Soap smiles softly, fondly, and sets down his gym bag. Ghost landed some ten hours ago, and despite the op going long he’d still been running around base like Price’d lit a fire under his ass, body and eyes clearly tired and heavy but Soap knew Ghost was nowhere close to unfamiliar with the feeling. Soap hadn’t had time to greet Ghost on the tarmac, and no time in between their duties for a quiet moment, either.

As Soap approaches, he realizes with no surprise at all that Ghost is no longer asleep, if he had been at all, his arm twitching and eyes staring half lidded as Johnny moves to the edge of the bed, one calloused warm hand resting gently at the base of Ghost’s back, where his spine dips so prettily. 

“Wh’t time issit?” Ghost grumbles. His tattooed arm reaches back to tap Soap's outer thigh in some kind of greeting before sliding back down to the floor. 

“Late,” Soap responds quietly. 

He throws a knee over Ghost, straddling the larger man’s back, smoothing his fingers down the plane of muscle. 

“You’ve a new one,” Soap notes, squarish thumb delicately sliding over a fresh, pink scar at the very center of where Ghost’s shoulder blades meet. 

Ghost grunts, either in dismissal or affirmation, Soap doesn��t care to know.

He leans down to press a kiss to the raised skin, sucking lightly at the smooth flesh and worrying it ever so gently between his teeth, earning a twitch and a huff from the man below him.

“Chicks dig scars, Lt,” Soap smiles. 

Ghost groans, trying to roll onto his side to lazily dislodge Johnny. Soap only shifts in kind, pressing kisses to Ghost’s ribs instead.

“Hav’n't slept in 58 hours, Soap…” 

“S’me, Ghost, I’m chicks,” Soap continues, one arm sliding down the plane of Ghost’s stomach, down to cup his cock through his boxers to provide an affectionate squeeze that has Ghost groaning as Johnny humps his half-hard bulge between the firm globes of Ghost’s ass.

“Nun’o’that, bloody succubus,” Ghost grunts, half-heartedly wacking at Soap’s hand, “too tired for a leg over righ’ now.”

Soap moves his hand from Ghost’s front to his back, tugging at the hem of the black briefs until they’re tucked neatly under Ghost’s ass. It’s not far to reach the small tube of lube sitting on the nightstand.

“Then doon’t,” Soap purrs, pressing his slicked fingers between Ghost’s cheeks, “you’d be a right braw pillow princess, Lt.”

Ghost lets out a small breath at the first breach of Soap’s middle finger, hand reaching back to grip at Soap’s hip, squeezing in rhythmic pulses as Soap easily slides to the second knuckle.

“Y’always tight as sin, Simon,” Soap murmurs, alternating between sucking bruises and scattering kisses across Ghost’s shoulder as he slides a second finger in, “s’that feel good?”

Ghost groans, a frustrated growl rumbling in the back of his throat that has Soap’s fingers stilling their slow in-and-out, pushing up onto the elbow of his free arm to see Ghost’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Ghost?”

“M’not hard,” Ghost grumbles, “Johnny, I—can’t get hard like this.”

Soap smiles, watching enraptured at how Ghost’s lips part into a silent ‘O’ beneath the mask as Soap begins to pick up the pace of his fingers once again.

“S’that all, Si? No’ a problem if I’m the one shaggin’ ye, yeah?”

“Bloody Christ, Johnny.”

“Won’t need yer pecker fer nothin’, just this tight little cunt.”

Ghost moans, low and gravelly at Johnny’s words, gently rocking back onto the three fingers now being bullied into him, the slick sounds of his lubed ass stretching to accommodate the digits seemingly echoing in the quiet room.

“Did you know you doon’t need to be hard to cum, Lt? Seen it m’self.”

“M’sure you ‘ave.”

“You saying I’m a slut, Simon?”

“Don’ need me to say it, Soap,” Simon grumbles, face half buried into the mattress, eyes closed, “but you’d like it if I did.”

“Alright,” Soap laughs concedingly, pulling his fingers free and pushing at Ghost’s shoulder until the larger man rolls onto his back, staring up half-lidded. The dark coffee brown of his eyes tinted with heady exhaustion and muted lust, his mask slick with saliva where his mouth hangs open.

“Bonnie sight,” Johnny coos whisper-soft, absentmindedly, earning a disbelieving scoff from Ghost, along with a complimentary eye roll.

Soap is steady in undoing his belt, fumbling vaguely to pop the metal bar from its leather entrapment. His thick cock’s quick to spring free, bobbing ever so slightly and blushed a dark red from his built up arousal. 

He pulls off Ghost briefs before grabbing him by the thighs and tugging him down, the lieutenant’s deadweight form going as easy as a sack o’ potatoes. Soap spreads his knees, hauling Ghost’s limp limbs over his own legs, caressing the meaty and muscular thighs of the Manc.

“Y’gonna fuck me awlready?” Simon drawls, head rolled back, peering down through his thick lashes.

“You can wait,” Soap smirks, taking Ghost's heavy, soft cock into his hand, gently squeezing the slightly squishy flesh. 

“Fall asleep on your prick at this rate,” Ghost grumbles.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Soap only smiles, leaning down to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the bit of Ghost’s throat exposed to him where the mask hikes up ever so slightly. He keeps one hand firm on Ghost’s hip, the other gripping the base of his own cock as he begins to rub the spongey, wet tip against Simon’s twitching hole. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” Ghost groans. Begs.

“Wanna see you cum, Si,” Johnny growls, pressing until the head of his cock pops into Ghost with a soft gasp, “wanna watch yer soft prick dribble cum all over y’rself.”

Ghost rolls his head back as Soap pushes into the hilt, his furry balls resting snug against Ghost’s cheeks as he lets the larger man adjust to his girth. 

Ghost lazily brings his arms up above his head, gripping the iron frame of the bed.

Soap watches with sparkling eyes at the thick, corded and scarred muscle that stretches and flexes beneath Ghost’s skin. His gaze trails down to Ghost’s hairy pits, and the younger leans back down, burying his face against the soft curls to take in the smell of Ghost’s name brand soap and the faint scent of his natural musk. 

His hips buck instinctually, Ghost letting out a punched out moan, Soap quickly beginning to rut and hump, the tip of his cock sliding within Simon’s gummy walls to bully against his prostate near perfectly.

Soap leans back, bracing himself for better leverage as he starts to jackrabbit into the older man. Ghost lets out a grunt or moan with each thrust in, his soft cock slapping limply against his stomach with the momentum of it, and Soap grins at the beads of precum dripping from the slit. 

“Squeezin’ me so good, Si,” Johnny groans, fisting the tip of Ghost’s cock to twist his palm around the sensitive glands, watching in awe as Simon’s balls draw up tight despite his cock remaining soft, “Already so close, love. Gonna cum so deep inside, keep you plugged up even when yer passed out on my cock, see if this tight cunt of yours takes.”

“Bloody fucking—” Simon barks, eyes widening before slamming shut as his back arches, “Johnny!”

Soap groans, feeling Ghost’s hole milk his throbbing prick as he watches cum dribble and pump out of the lieutenant’s tip, the flesh giving weak pulses like a too late attempt at hardening.

Ghost’s already heavy limbs go heavier, and Soap glances up to see Ghost’s eyes fluttering before slipping completely shut, and the image of his Simon well and truly passed out from a good shag (and 58 hours of being awake) has him blowing his load, burying deep into Ghost’s tight ass and pumping him full of his thick cum with a groan, his forehead pressed to the man’s shoulder as his hips stutter through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Soap breathes, a whisper pressed to Ghost’s heated skin, “so good fer me, Si.”

Soap’s careful to keep his cock in, pushing Ghost’s leg up and over so he can spoon the man from behind, wrapping his arms around his strong torso. Ghost grunts softly, a questioning noise that earns him a kiss on the back of the neck.

“Off ta sleep, Si,” Soap murmurs, a small smile spreading across his face, “lemme give you a facial in the morning, aye?”

“F’ck off, Johnny,” Ghost slurs.

[azucaradamente]

"An autumn and spring love" Chapter 2

check it out on AO3, i update there first :). Chapter 1

FUZZ... my head pounded with the rhythmic squeak of the mop against the gym floor. I never thought cleaning duty would be this soul-crushing. Maybe Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had a point with their constant complaints. Karma, perhaps?

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity. Finally finished, I couldn't understand why Coach Ukai insisted on staying. He barely lifted a finger, spending the entire time glued to his phone – games, laughter at some message... or maybe... was he staying for me? A shiver danced down my spine. Could it be? He could actually have some...

My fantasizing was cut brutally short by a throat clearing so sharp it could cut butter.

"So, Y/N," Coach Ukai's voice rumbled, closer than necessary, "finally finished?"

"Uh – y-yeah," I stammered, cheeks burning. "Just putting these basketballs away."

"Good. Make it snappy. Took longer than expected, and I—"

His words were cut off by another chime from his phone. He glanced at it briefly, his expression unreadable, then shoved it back in his pocket with a sigh.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. "Isn't that a bit late for a text?" I blurted, instantly hating the stupid question that tumbled out of my mouth, it wasnt even fucking late! besides he is and ault im just his student, tf i care... A low chuckle escaped Coach Ukai's lips. "Nosy, are we?" His voice was a caress, sending shivers down my spine. He took a deliberate step forward, caging me between his body and the wall.

This is it. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the stillness. Where was this going? My breath hitched as Coach Ukai invaded my personal space, his cologne a sharp tang in the air. "I-I think you're a little closer than you need to be, Coach," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

A slow smile played on his lips. "Is that so, Y/N?" His voice was a low rumble, sending a tremor through me. "Tell me, why do you care so much?"

My cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and a strange thrill. "I... I'm sorry, Coach," I blurted out, desperate to break the suffocating silence. "It's just that you said you'd stay to help and teach me, but you barely did anything. So I thought, maybe you just wanted to be with me..." My voice trailed off, a choked sob escaping my lips. "But with all those texts, maybe it's your girlfriend wondering where you are..." Regret flooded my stomach. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?

Coach Ukai's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, then softened with a hint of amusement. "So, you thought I wanted to be with you, huh?" He took a deliberate step forward, caging me between his body and the wall. "Well, you're not entirely wrong."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't right. He had a girlfriend. But the heat radiating from his body, the way his gaze lingered on my lips, sent a confusing mix of fear and desire swirling inside me.

"I do have a girlfriend," he continued, his voice a husky murmur. "She's waiting for me, and I am late for our date. But..." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to be alone with you."

A shiver ran down my spine as he leaned in closer, the promise of a kiss hanging heavy in the air. "Ah-ah, wait, Coach," I stammered, pushing weakly against his chest. "If you have a girlfriend, shouldn't we stop?"

He ignored my plea, his hand trailing down my arm, sending sparks igniting across my skin. He unbuttoned my shirt with practiced ease, the coolness of the air against my exposed skin a stark contrast to the burning heat of his touch. My mind screamed at me to stop him, he had a girlfriend and i was just a student, but my body seemed frozen, caught between fear and a strange, exhilarating anticipation. He started kissing my neck harshly, likely leaving a mark later, while his hands crept up my torso, inching towards my breasts. A confusing mix of emotions swirled within me. I should stop this, a voice in my head screamed, but my body seemed frozen. Maybe I actually wanted this, or at least that's what I desperately clung to in that moment.

A jarring ring cut through the haze of our heated exchange. How long had we been like this? He answered the phone, annoyance lacing his voice.

"What the hell do you want? I told you I'm busy working on something, it won't take long," he snapped, breaking the kiss abruptly and fumbling with the phone. He stepped back from me, my surprise evident at his sudden shift. My shirt hung open, unbuttoned in the frenzy. Ignoring me completely, he stalked towards the door, still yelling into the phone.

"Fine, fine, I'm on my way already," he conceded, flinging the door open. But before disappearing completely, he threw a final glance my way, a lingering smirk playing on his lips. Then, he was gone. My breasts hung free, exposed and suddenly cold thanks to the gaping doorway. A shiver ran down my spine, a stark contrast to the heat that had just flooded my body. A wave of nausea washed over me, and a lump formed in my throat, threatening to erupt into tears. Collapsing onto the floor, I wrapped my arms around myself, the familiar comfort failing to soothe the turmoil within. The harsh reality of the situation hit me. Was this... what I wanted? The question echoed in the emptiness left by his abrupt departure.

Just as the tears welled up, shattering the fragile dam of emotions, my phone pierced the silence. Grasping at the lifeline, I answered. It was Mom. The sound of her voice, laced with concern, momentarily pulled me away from the whirlwind within. I could faintly hear Tadashi and Tsukishima's voices in the background, their curiosity piqued. I forced a smile into my voice, weaving a tale of being almost finished with whatever vague task I'd concocted. Reassurance dripped from my words as I promised not to be too late.

Hanging up, the charade crumbled. Stepping outside, the cool night air hit me like a physical blow. Rain began to fall, a relentless downpour mirroring the torrent of emotions within. Tears finally escaped, blurring the city lights into streaks of shimmering pain. The feeling of being used, a foreign concept mere moments ago, now clung to me like a second skin. But how could that be? I'd craved this, hadn't I? The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, lost amidst the symphony of rain and my own choked sobs. The walk home stretched into an eternity, each step a battle against the storm raging within.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡

Rain plastered my clothes to my skin, the chill seeping deep into my bones. Tossing the damp towel onto the counter, I sank onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in its welcoming softness. Exhaustion pressed down on me, a physical manifestation of the emotional rollercoaster I'd just been on.

The walk home had been a blur of pounding rain and unanswered questions. Every muscle in my body ached with a weariness that went beyond the physical. The city lights had blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting the turmoil within. My breath hitched, and a sob escaped my lips, breaking the fragile peace. It was a single tear, the first of many, finally bursting forth after being held captive for so long.

The sound must have alerted Mom, because she appeared moments later, her brow furrowed with concern. The questions came at me like a tidal wave - why was I so late, where had I been, didn't I have an umbrella? I couldn't answer, the words caught in the tightness of my throat. Seeing the state I was in, Mom's concern morphed into gentle understanding. With a soft smile, she announced a hot bath was waiting for me. Sinking into the steamy water, I let the warmth seep into my muscles, finally allowing myself to relax. But the emotional turmoil wouldn't be so easily soothed. My mind replayed the scene, the heat of his touch, the confusion within me. Did I want this? The question echoed in the silence, a constant refrain.

Just as I began to drift off, a soft chime from my phone shattered the quiet. A notification blinked on the screen, the familiar name sending a jolt through me. It was Ukai. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I unlocked the phone. His message was a confusing jumble of words.

— From: Ukai (⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝) —--------------------------- Hey, it was a good night, you did a great job that perhaps should stay between us, had a great date with my girlfriend if ur wondering but i'm still waiting for our thing to repeat.

Cya tomorrow in practice. —---------------------------——-------------------------------

My breath caught in my throat. Was he serious? Anger bubbled up within me, a stark contrast to the confused longing I'd felt earlier. Here he was, bragging about a date while dangling the promise of something more with me. It felt like a slap in the face, a blatant disregard for my feelings. The tears that had been held at bay before began to flow freely, each drop a silent scream of frustration and hurt.

Closing my eyes, I reread the message, each word dripping with a cruel indifference. Ukai's playful emoji mocked me, a stark reminder of the manipulative game he seemed to be playing. With trembling fingers, I began to type a reply. What would I say? How could I possibly convey the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me? The cursor blinked, taunting me with its emptiness.

The night stretched before me, long and heavy. The rain outside had softened to a gentle patter, but the storm within raged on. As exhaustion finally claimed me, sleep offered a temporary escape, but I knew the questions would be waiting for me when I woke up.

[clarepreed]

Protect

Story Content and Summary - 9,394 words. Larissa grows stronger and healthier as she and Mitchell recoup on a private beach in Hawaii. When they choose to return home for Kieran's wedding, however, events take a violent turn. Explicit sex, violence, blood, mention of self-unaliving, drowning, hypovolemic shock, on-site resuscitation, resuscitation in a moving ambulance, resuscitation in the Emergency Department.

Previous installment: Lifeguard Not On Duty Disclaimer: Some references will not make sense if you have not read certain stories in the series. Ask in the comments if you'd like to know which ones to read.

--

Mitchell pulled away from the curb, looking for a parking space. Larissa appeared to be running late, and other cars were piling up behind him.

He tried calling her again, but the call went straight to voicemail. She’d told him that the building had a big dead zone in the middle. She might still be in physical therapy, or had stepped into the bathroom.

“This is Larissa Anders-Colton. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I’ll return your call when I’m able. Thank you!”

Mitchell decided to go inside and look for her. Her doctors back home had helped her find this place when she’d expressed interest in taking up running again. The facility was attached to a hospital, and the staff trained to deal with medical emergencies. She was undoubtedly fine. Her asthma was doing better, she hadn’t had a seizure since the episode where she cut her arm, and her ICD/pacemaker had not needed to perform either function in a long time.

Still, Mitchell worried.

I’ll just take a look. She might have lost track of time. That’s happened more often since…

Mitchell hurried back to the entrance and inside. He usually walked her in for her appointments, so he knew where to go. Hurrying across the lobby, he skipped the bank of elevators and slipped into the stairwell.

He told himself not to hurry, but by the time he started up the second set of steps, he was taking them two at a time. Breathing hard, he burst out onto the third floor, his eyes looking for any sign of distress or an emergency.

Instead, as he approached the gallery of windows that made up one wall of the physical therapy gym, he spotted Larissa. Upright, and running on a treadmill.

She hadn’t noticed him; her eyes were on her physical therapist, who was talking to her animatedly, his hands moving in the air. Larissa was flushed and sweaty, but she looked relaxed. She’d braided her long hair down her back and it swung back and forth with each stride. Across the room was a wall of mirrors, and Mitchell could see her from behind, her ass a masterpiece in leggings.

He stood frozen in his tracks, his eyes shifting back to her face. She smiled at the trainer, face shining in the lights above. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her neck, running into her cleavage. Her sports bra was doing a lot of heavy lifting; her large, natural breasts were barely jiggling as she ran.

Mitchell felt a powerful combination of relief, lust, and pride as he watched his wife. He heaved a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders, letting his arms dangle loose by his sides.

God, I wish we were home so I could steth her right now.

The trainer reached across the front of the treadmill and the belt slowed until Larissa was walking. She clasped the bar with one hand and snagged her towel with the other, quickly blotting her face and heaving chest. That’s when she noticed Mitchell, and he saw the sweetest, happiest smile spread across her face.

Then she gestured for him to come in.

By the time Mitchell reached her, the trainer was handing Larissa a bottle of water. She pressed it to her chest and exclaimed: “Mitchell! Did you see? I ran a mile!”

“I did, baby! That’s amazing. You look so happy!” Mitchell reached out and put his hand on top of hers where she gripped the safety bar.

“She’s doing great,” the trainer said. “Won’t be long until you’re jogging around the island.”

“You can come with me, Mitchell,” Larissa said. Then she winked. “If you can keep up.”

Before long, they walked together out to their SUV. Though she was doing exceptionally well with her balance, Mitchell helped her climb into the vehicle. This gave him the opportunity to kiss her. He gently pressed her into the seat, one hand cupping her cheek and the other curving around the side of her ribcage.

Her skin was tacky with drying sweat, and her body felt warm to the touch. She made a surprised noise against his mouth and then reached up to run her fingers into his hair 

When they came up for air, she murmured: “I don’t smell very good.”

“Mmm…” Mitchell kissed her jaw up to her ear, sliding his hand further up her ribcage until his hand rested on the damp band of her sports bra. Her hair smelled strongly of shampoo despite the sweat, and he nuzzled the damp short hairs at her temple.

Larissa tipped her head back, opening up the long line of her neck. Mitchell kissed his way down her warm skin, marking a path down to the top of her breast. She let out a low, breathy moan and Mitchell smiled against her bosom.

“What do you say we get home and hop in the shower?” he murmured. Before she could respond, he slipped both of his hands down her body and pushed her legs apart. Then he rubbed her through her leggings, where she’d soaked them through with sweat and arousal.

Her chest heaved, and she gasped out: “God, home feels so far away right this second.”

A car drove by where he’d parked, and Mitchell curved protectively over Larissa, blocking her spread legs and flushed face from the driver. 

Larissa giggled and kissed his cheek. “I guess we should go home so we don’t get arrested for getting busy in the hospital parking lot. And I do need a shower before we go any further. Surely I’m about to knock you out with fumes.”

Mitchell leaned back and brought his hand up to his face, making eye contact with her and inhaling deeply. “That would be a good way to go.”

Larissa’s eyes went wide, and she made a shocked noise. “God, you always find new ways to shock me and turn me on.”

Mitchell gave her a quick, hard kiss before he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

When they got home, it didn’t take them long to end up in the bathroom, where Mitchell undid Larissa’s braid. Then they stripped down and hopped into the shower together. 

“Let me wash you,” he murmured, reaching for the pouf and squirting a generous dollop of body wash into it before sudsing it between his hands. He started with her back, carefully sweeping her hair to the front. He washed her entire body like this, gliding the pouf in slow circles over her ass and thighs, under her arms and around her breasts. He spent a lot of time on her breasts, teasing her nipples with the mesh before running the pouf down her abdomen. She sat on the bench and closed her eyes, leaning against the shower wall as he washed her legs and feet.

Mitchell sat the pouf on the bench and rinsed the soap off his hands before reaching in and pushing her knees apart. He washed her vulva with warm water, looking up at her face as he rubbed and stroked her. When he finished, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then he washed her hair, surprising her by remembering which products she used and in what order.

While her conditioner was soaking in, Larissa took the pouf and washed Mitchell in return. She stood very close, brushing her breasts against him or leaning in to kiss his neck and chest. They moved into the stream of water to rinse off, and Larissa let the pouf fall to the shower floor, her hands coming up to rake through her hair.

Mitchell pressed her back against the shower wall, his fingers linking with hers and pulling her arms above her head. Her breasts rose deliciously, hardened nipples pressing into his chest. Mitchell gave her a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Then he kissed along her jawline to her ear and sucked on her lobe. Larissa mewled, her chest heaving and her hips jerking forward against him. 

Mitchell nibbled on her soft flesh, then kissed his way down her neck and along her collarbone. He kissed her scar and the lump of her ICD. Then he lifted his head and found her panting mouth, kissing her hard. He released her hands, and she brought them to the sides of his face, then ran them down to his shoulders, gently urging him back.

“Sit,” Larissa cooed, pressing him toward the shower bench.

Mitchell backed up until he felt the bench against his legs, then sat, sliding his hands down Larissa’s curvy body. She sank in front of him, her hands gripping his thighs and pushing them wide. Larissa leaned forward and took him into her mouth, her eyes capturing his and earning her a low groan. 

His hands lightly grasped her head, though he resisted the urge to move her head up and down his cock. Instead, he concentrated on watching her face, on her full lips wrapped around him. On the sensation of her tongue stroking the underside of his cock and then sliding around his glans. His lips parted and he let out a moan.

Larissa released his legs and reached between his thighs to cup his balls. Then she took him deep into her mouth, deeper than she was usually willing to go. 

“Fuck!” Mitchell felt his abs and ass clench. He tried to breathe slowly, tried closing his eyes so he couldn’t see how she looked with his cock deep in her mouth. After a bit, however, he wrenched his eyes open and grasped her shoulders. “God, baby. You have to stop; I want you in bed.”

Larissa let him slip from her mouth. Her hands rubbed up and down his thighs. “Are you sure? I’m certainly enjoying myself.” Larissa licked her bottom lip, then lifted her hands from his thighs and cupped her heavy breasts, thumbs circling her nipples.

“Larissa… if it wouldn’t be hard on my knees, I would fuck you on the shower floor.”

Larissa responded by running one hand down her body and between her thighs. Mitchell bent over and cupped her face, kissing her hard. They rose together, and Mitchell managed to turn off the water and open the shower door without either of them falling down.

Larissa shivered when the bathroom air rushed into the enclosed space, and Mitchell reached out to snag her robe, throwing it around her shoulders. “Watch your step, baby.” 

“I have so much wet hair,” she said, laughing as she grabbed her hair towel. As she used it to squeeze the excess water from her wet locks, Mitchell stepped in close and kissed her temple, running a hand up her abdomen and cupping her right breast. Larissa let out a low moan. “We can always change the sheets after.”

He led her into the bedroom, where she dropped her bathrobe over her pillow and pulled back the comforter. She slipped into the sheets and then reached for him.

Mitchell laid down beside her and tugged her close, pulling her leg over his. His erection throbbed between them, but he reached down and cupped her sex with his hand, massaging her with his palm. Her wetness lubricated his fingers as he rubbed all around her vulva, gently increasing the pressure. 

Larissa made a noise, little more than a sharp intake of breath. He moved his hand, trailing his fingers lightly around her clit before sliding back down and slipping two fingers inside of her. She was swollen with arousal, and her legs stiffened when he penetrated her. She sucked in a breath as he curled his fingers, stroking in and out of her. 

He kept his other arm tight around her, holding her close as she began to gasp and moan. The heel of his hand ground into her clit. 

“Ah!” she gasped. Mitchell kept his eyes on her face, watching as her own closed and her head tipped back. Her lips parted, huffs of air panting out of her. 

Mitchell shifted his legs, using his knees to push hers wider. “You look so hot like this, baby. You feel so good in my arms. I want you to come for me.”

Larissa thrust her pelvis against his hand, driving his fingers deeper. Her body writhed against him, and she was making increasingly louder noises. 

“Come for me, baby!”

“Ah! Ah! AH!” she came apart, body convulsing with pleasure, legs shaking and her muscles gripping his fingers. Mitchell abruptly withdrew his fingers, then thrust himself inside her warm, dripping slit. Larissa arched her back and opened her mouth in an “o” of surprise. “GOD!”

Mitchell grasped her ass, pinning her in place as he drove inside. She went from trembling to meeting him thrust for thrust, her gasps of pleasure ringing in his ears.

Larissa pressed her hands against his chest and he moved onto his back, pulling her with him. She braced herself on the headboard, breasts wobbling above his head as she rode him. Mitchell ran his hands up and down her sides before reaching up to pinch her nipples.

“Yes!” Larissa moaned, her thighs rolling and her pelvis thrusting down against him. Mitchell gave her nipples a twist and then released them, running his hands down her sides to her hips. 

“You’re amazing,” Mitchell gasped. They had always had an excellent sex life, but her renewed stamina and strength were something to behold. Mitchell moved one of his hands to her pelvis, finding her clit with his thumb.

Her eyes met his, and she moaned: “I’m going to come again!”

“Good,” he growled. He thrust up into her, watched as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Mitchell pulled her down to lie on top of him, grabbing her ass and pressing his feet flat to the mattress so he could pump himself rapidly in and out of her. Larissa curled her fingers into his damp hair and kissed him, her tongue plunging deep into his mouth.

Then she tore her mouth free and cried out. He felt a gush of wetness between them and kept thrusting hard as his balls tightened. Her body convulsed over and around him and he let the sound and feel of her push him over the edge. He nearly whited out as he spilled himself inside of her, releasing a loud groan of pleasure. 

Larissa went limp on top of him, her chest heaving and her fingers stroking his hair.

“Holy shit, baby!” He turned his head to kiss her cheek and heard her chuckle. Then he wrapped his arms tight around her. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Two days later.

Mitchell stood in the church’s narthex with the other groomsmen, waiting for Dan to walk down the aisle and for the bridesmaids to arrive. Dan bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet, his face split by an ear-to-ear smile.

“He looks more than ready,” Mitchell’s brother-in-law Mark murmured. 

“You know how it is,” Mitchell said. “Getting married. Of course, it’s something else to make it to the wedding when you thought your bride might die before you can get there.”

Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “That would add some extra weight to the proceedings, that’s for sure.”

The door between the vestibule and the narthex cracked open, and the wedding planner stuck his head in. “Ready, Dan?”

“Yes, please.”

“Go ahead down the aisle. The pianist is ready.”

The rest of the groomsmen got in order as the planner propped the door open, letting in the line of bridesmaids. First was Kieran’s best friend and maid-of-honor, Blakely, followed by her cousin, Maeve. There were four bridesmaids, but Mitchell’s attention stopped at the third.

Kieran was not the sort of bride to try to dull her bridesmaids’ beauty, though as far as Mitchell was concerned, that would have been impossible, anyway. Larissa’s long, heavy hair had been piled artfully atop her head, honeyed curls woven throughout with small braids. Her makeup was light, her earrings simple. The dress was some sort of bluish purple that Larissa described as “periwinkle silver.” It had a single wide strap that covered Larissa’s scar, then fit her well through the bust and waist before flaring out into a tulle skirt that draped to mid-calf. Her long legs looked even longer in the matching heels. In her hands, she carried a simple bouquet of white roses.

Mitchell pushed down his impatience as the first two couples entered the church. Then he was beside Larissa, linking elbows with her. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

“You look gorgeous. Stunning.”

“Thank you, handsome.”

The wedding seemed to fly by. As Kieran and Dan gave their vows, Mitchell leaned slightly to the side, trying to spot Larissa. To his delight, she was leaning around to look for him as well. He saw her face light up and winked at her.

After the wedding, photos, and reception at a nearby hotel, after Dan and Kieran’s sendoff, Mitchell and Larissa gathered their things and met in the hotel lobby.

“How tired are you, baby?” Mitchell asked. “Do you want to walk or should we take an Uber?”

“It’s a beautiful night. We just have these two bags…” Larissa looked over at him. “Are you okay to walk? I have my sneakers, but you’re still in dress shoes.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s less than a mile. Or right at a mile. These shoes really aren’t so bad.” Mitchell held out his arm. “I know I said this before, baby, but you look absolutely gorgeous.”

Larissa took his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “A very handsome man such as yourself needs some arm candy.”

“Want to stop at the fountain in the courtyard on our way out?”

“Please, I bet it’s beautiful at night.”

They walked together slowly, arm in arm. Mitchell had tucked his tux jacket into his backpack along with his bowtie. Larissa was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, but she’d slipped on a brand new pair of running shoes, gifted to her by Kieran. Aside from the shoes and her backpack slung over one shoulder, Mitchell thought she looked just as perfect as she had when he’d first seen her at the ceremony.

The south exit took them into the courtyard, where a large fountain splashed quietly in the center. The lighting along the edge of the building was bright enough for safety, but there were no lamps around the fountain. Instead, the fountain itself was illuminated. This night, the LEDs were rainbow hued, almost pastel through the water.

“Oh!” Larissa exclaimed, squeezing his arm. “That’s right, it’s June first in a couple of hours! Happy Pride, honey!”

“Thank you, baby.” Mitchell smiled, watching the colors ripple as they approached. “Thank you for that.”

“You didn’t stop being bi just because we got married.” Larissa sighed. “I really love how this looks. It’s so happy!”

“I wonder if a selfie would come out,” Mitchell mused. “We could try!”

“I have an idea! I can light us with my phone and you’ll take the picture. Your arms are longer.”

They dropped their bags on the pavers and sat on the lip of the basin, one arm wrapped around the other’s back. Larissa blinded them with the flashlight on her phone, giggling until she got it positioned where she wanted it. 

“Alright, honey!”

Mitchell took several shots. For the last one they kissed, Mitchell clumsily pressing the shutter button and hoping for the best.

“How are they?” Larissa asked, hastily turning her flashlight off. “That was fun either way. Other than when I scarred our retinas.”

“Let’s lo—”

“Larissa!” A man’s voice interrupted them. Mitchell blinked away the remaining spots in his vision, confused as Larissa stiffened beside him. She lurched to her feet, pulling herself out of his grasp before he could register what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Larissa’s voice hissed out of her, a tone Mitchell had never heard before. Then he was on his feet, part of his brain reacting to the man approaching them before the rest of his consciousness caught up.

Ben Miller.

“Get out of here,” Mitchell snarled. “Unless you’re staying at the hotel or attending an event here, you’re trespassing.”

Ben looked much older than Mitchell remembered. His hair was shaggy, growing over his ears and onto his collar. He’d also grown a salt-and-pepper beard since they’d last seen him in court.

Larissa gestured toward their bags. “We’ll go. I don’t care what the fuck you do.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Ben said. Mitchell realized the other man had one of his hands in his pockets.

“Larissa—” he started, but Ben cut him off.

“I’m not here to hurt her! I realize now my anger was misplaced.” Ben laughed. “I did a lot of reading. Did you know how unethical it was for you to come on to your subordinate like that, Mitchell? And you got away with it. I haven’t heard shit from the media about how you used your power to seduce one of your employees. And then I took it out on HER when I should have gone after YOU!”

“Let’s just go, Mitchell.” Larissa took another step forward toward their bags. Mitchell’s phone was in his hand, and he wondered if he’d be able to call 9-1-1 before anything happened.

Ben pulled his hand out of his pocket and dragged out a handgun.

Everything began to move at rain pace, faster than Mitchell could process. Ben lunged forward. Mitchell reached for Larissa, only for her to throw herself in front of him. He heard a terrible crack, then a second. Larissa twisted violently. Another crack. Mitchell heard a splash, and then he registered a white hot pain across his side.

“I didn’t want to hurt her!” Ben groaned. “FUCK! Why did she do that?!”

Mitchell dropped his phone and clapped his hand to his side. Ben shot again, but he was on the move and the bullet whizzed past Mitchell’s head. Mitchell flinched and tripped over his own feet, limbs sprawling and his head bouncing off the pavers.

His vision filled with stars.

Get up!

He couldn’t seem to gather his wits enough to move.

Get up!

Larissa…

The night fell silent.

Mitchell pushed himself up onto his hands and knees with a groan. The right side of his face throbbed and stung, and pain knifed down the left side of his ribcage. His mind screamed at him that there was danger, but when he looked around, he didn’t see Ben anywhere. 

“Larissa!” he shouted, turning toward the fountain.

Larissa lay on her back in the basin, submerged and unmoving, eyes unfocused and open. A dark cloud of blood surrounded her. One foot was propped up out of the water, her sneaker caught on the edge.

“NO!” Mitchell crawled into the fountain and thrashed over to her, the pain in his head and his side fading as pure, undiluted panic flooded him.

Dead dead dead dead dead—

Mitchell grabbed her shoulders and heaved her upper body out of the water. The weight of her sodden updo pulled her head back at a sharp angle, and he could see the whites of her eyes below her irises. He cradled her against his arm and tried to get hold of himself, sucking in a deep breath and screaming: “HELP!” before he dragged in another.

He didn’t bother listening or feeling for breath. Instead, he closed her mouth with his free hand and hunched over her, his mouth sealing over her nose.

Mitchell had been learning more about CPR and first aid, no longer content with what they taught at the annual CPR refresher. He gave Larissa a breath through her nose, watching for her still chest to rise. The breath was difficult to get in, but he kept trying, four more times, while her chest barely rose and his lips spluttered from the force.

You weren’t in there long enough to pull much water in, baby! What the fuck?!

Mitchell tried to lift her, one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. Weakened from his injuries and weighed down by their wet clothing, he tipped over on top of her, briefly submerging them both.

Mitchell reared back, jerking her torso up with him. He spat to clear his mouth and then shouted again: “HELP, GOD DAMMIT!”

Mitchell slipped in behind her, bringing his arms around her limp body and just under her breasts, clenching his hands into a fist. His fist found her sternum, and he pulled his hands in sharply. Pain blossomed down his side, but he ignored it, pulling hard and at the same pace as prone chest compressions. Larissa made a watery, wheezing sound with each thrust of his fist.

“…seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…” Mitchell compressed her body back against his chest, feeling her ribcage flex beneath his fist. Her arms swung limp, and her head hung forward and slightly to the side, pulled by the weight of her hair. When he glanced down, he realized one or both of them still bled profusely; Larissa’s dress was soaked down the left side and the stain in the water had grown.

“Thirty!” Mitchell shifted her again in his arms, draping her over his knees and letting her head fall back. There was blood on her chest, and when he looked closer, he realized it was coming from a wound near her ICD. Mitchell clapped a shaking hand over the bloody tear, pressing hard. Then he wrapped his other arm around her head, holding her mouth closed as he leaned in to give her another breath. This time, he felt her breasts rise against his arm. A small amount of water gushed up into his mouth and he spat to the side before giving her another breath.

 That’s when he saw her arm. Limp as it was, he could still see it hung at an awkward angle. And the blood… he’d never seen someone bleed like that in real life. It was streaming from her arm, pulsing slightly as it exited her body.

“FUCK!” Mitchell moved his hand from her chest to her arm, clenching his hand tightly around the wound. “HELP! IN THE COURTYARD!”

Blood oozed between his fingers, and he stared at it, realizing that the pulsing meant that her heart was still beating. For now. If she bled out or didn’t start breathing again, her heart would stop.

Mitchell hunched over her awkwardly, sealing his lips over her nose again. He gave her a breath and felt her chest rise. Breathing for her, even through her nose, was noticeably easier now, her breasts swelling with each breath. He blew into her every three seconds, his eyes darting back and forth from her face to her arm to her chest. Her skin felt cool to the touch despite the warm night air; he assumed it was due to blood loss and the fountain water.

Every tenth breath, Mitchell tipped her head to the side, letting water and a small amount of froth trickle from her nose and mouth. Then he tipped her head back again, sealed her mouth, and blew into her nostrils. 

As he was giving her breath, Larissa jerked in his arms, her chest heaving and water coming up out of her nose. Mitchell pulled her as upright as he could, watching in relief when her lips parted and she coughed up a small amount of fountain water. She gagged and opened her eyes, staring wildly out at the night sky.

“I’ve got you, baby. Larissa, I’ve got you. He’s gone—”

“Hello?” A man’s voice called out from somewhere outside of Mitchell’s range of vision. Mitchell froze for several seconds until he realized the voice didn’t belong to Ben Miller.

Larissa let out a low moan, stirring against him. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but the movement just made her back bow from the pain. She gasped and started coughing again. The coughs were weak and wet, her shoulders jerking.

“IN THE FOUNTAIN!” Mitchell bellowed. “WE’VE BEEN SHOT! CALL 9-1-1!”

“Mitchell…” Larissa gasped his name, her head sagging back and then rolling to the side. “Mitch…ell… You…”

Her eyelids fluttered. She coughed between rapid breaths, and what he could see of her face and lips looked chalky.

“Shh, baby. You don’t have to talk!” A frightening amount of blood was still leaking out around his fingers. Mitchell took his other hand and wrapped both of them around the bleeding wounds in her arm, just above her elbow. Then he squeezed with all of his strength.

Larissa made a noise, a shriek so forceful it was actually silent, her mouth gaping and her body shuddering in his arms. 

“I’m sorry!” he gasped, her pain wracking his own body with a wave of anguish. “Shh, baby, it’s… I’m so sorry! FUCK!”

She shuddered in his arms, her teeth chattering and her breaths coming faster.

“In the fountain!” a woman shouted. “Looks like two people!”

“We need an ambulance! My wife is bleeding to death!” Mitchell regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth; he needed someone to help them, but saying such a thing made his own body tremble.

“Mmm…” Larissa moaned, her head lolling against his chest. “Mmmm… Mitch… Mitch… M-Mitchell…”

“Larissa, shh, baby.”

“C-cold…”

Mitchell heard shoes on the concrete and then people splashed into the fountain with them. A man and a woman that he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place.

“Someone from the hotel called 9-1-1. Everyone was afraid to come out after the shots,” the woman said. “But staff’s bringing blankets. They’ll be out in a minute!”

“Gunman’s gone?” asked the man. “I hear sirens…”

“You… o… k-kay?” Larissa asked, her voice high-pitched and shaky.

“I’m okay, Larissa!” Mitchell pressed a kiss to her wet hair. “Please, please don’t worry…”

“We need to put something on her arm as a tourniquet,” the man said. He looked around wildly, as though something useful might materialize in the fountain.

“What about your belt?” the woman asked. Mitchell realized where he knew them from. Kieran’s wedding. He’d seen this woman in the bridal party.

“M-Maeve,” Larissa stammered. She was sagging heavily against Mitchell, unable to hold herself upright. 

“That’s right, Larissa,” the woman said, kneeling in the water. “Christ, what happened?”

Maeve’s husband stripped off his belt. “This isn’t ideal, but it’s the best we’ve got. I’m going to put it above your hands!”

The man looped his belt around her arm and threaded the end through the buckle.

“Stop…” Larissa squeaked out, weakly writhing in his arms. “D-don’t…”

“Deep breath, baby—”

The man jerked the belt tight, and Larissa made a wheezing noise and went limp against Mitchell’s chest. Mitchell released her arm, his hands hovering there in case the belt didn’t do the job. The wound oozed, black with blood, but it wasn’t pumping out blood at the rate it had before. Mitchell hoped this was because of the belt.

“Larissa!” Mitchell dropped his bloody hands into the water, scrubbing them against his pants legs before reaching up to lift her chin. Maeve reached out and held the back of her hand in front of Larissa’s mouth.

“She’s breathing!” Maeve exclaimed. “We need to get her out of the water!”

“I have to hold this belt tight,” her husband said. “But here comes hotel staff! And cops!”

The courtyard flooded with people. Mitchell couldn’t concentrate on anything except Larissa. He pressed his fingers to her carotid artery, wanting to monitor her pulse while she was unconscious. He was vaguely aware that his body shook with cold and shock. He heard some shouting, but it wasn’t until Maeve put her lips near his ear that he caught the words.

“Mitchell! Mitchell!” Maeve grabbed his arm. “This man is a doctor. The cops are going to help us get her out of the water. You need to get out, too. You’re shaking!”

Then they took her from him, a man in plain clothes and a uniformed cop, one carrying her shoulders and the other her legs, all while Maeve’s husband held tight to the belt. 

“Come on, you need to get out, too.” Maeve stood, reaching down with an outstretched hand. “I’m Kieran’s cousin. As soon as you’re out of the fountain I’m going to call her and let her know what happened.”

“Tell her to call M-Mark…”

“I will. Come on, I think the cop has a real tourniquet for her arm.”

Mitchell reached up and took her hand. She stepped close to him, grabbing his elbow with her other hand. Mitchell managed to struggle to his feet, though he swayed once he was upright.

“Ooh, don’t fall! I can’t catch you!” She turned him toward the side of the fountain, where he could see that the men had laid Larissa out on a blanket and draped a second over her legs. Mitchell sat on the side of the fountain and swung his legs around. Maeve climbed out beside him, then reached toward his side with a gasp. “Oh! That’s not just her blood. Hey, he’s bleeding, too!”

“I’m f-fine…” Mitchell pressed his hand to the bleeding wound across his ribs. “I think I was just grazed…”

A uniform cop jogged up with extra gloves and something in her hand that turned out to be an actual tourniquet. Mitchell eased himself down onto his knees, reaching for Larissa’s right hand, laying limp on the blanket. 

“…above the belt,” the doctor said. Mitchell didn’t know what kind of doctor he was, but he’d already checked her pulse and seemed confident in his directions. Someone draped a blanket across Mitchell’s shoulders as the doctor applied the tourniquet to Larissa’s injured arm, turning the windlass.

Larissa groaned, her fingers moving in Mitchell’s grasp. Her hand felt cold.

“Shh, baby.” He squeezed her hand and watched as her eyelids fluttered open. “Larissa, it’s Mitchell. There’s a doctor here and an ambulance will be here soon.”

She moved restlessly, legs working underneath the blanket. Her eyes roved the sky above them. “Thirsty…”

“I’m sorry, baby, but—”

“Where did he… go?” Larissa gasped.

“Ben ran off. He’s not here—”

“He was… g-gonna…” She stopped, talking for several seconds, eyes unfocused. Then she wheezed: “Thirsty��”

“Ma’am,” the doctor cut in. He had his hand pressed to the wound in her chest. “You’ll need surgery. I can’t give you water, but when the ambulance arrives, they will give you IV fluids and that will help.”

“We’ve got one ambulance pulling in now,” a cop said. “The second one is delayed.”

“She’s breathing very fast,” Mitchell said. “Is that from the blood loss?”

Her full lips looked bloodless, and they were slightly parted. He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. Mitchell lifted his hand from his wounded side and turned her wrist over in his hand, pressing his fingertips to the pulse there. Or he tried to; even though Larissa’s heart was obviously beating, he couldn’t find the pulse in her wrist.

“I believe so,” the doctor said. “Here come the medics.”

“M-Mitchell…” Larissa whispered.

Mitchell leaned in with difficulty, the pain in his side making him stiff. Still, he knew the paramedics would likely make him move away from her, and he wanted to talk to her while he could. “What is it, baby?”

She briefly made eye contact with him. This close, he smelled the thick scent of iron on her. “Sell.”

“Yes… Anything you want, baby. And then we’ll buy that house in Hawaii.” A lump formed in his throat and he squeezed her hand again.

“Take… c-care of… yourself…” Larissa closed her eyes, but he could still see her chest rising and falling.

“You’re going to be okay, Larissa. I love you!” His eyes burned, and he swallowed hard.

“Love… you…” she whispered, and her fingers twitched in his hand.

“What have we got?” A medic crouched at Larissa’s head, reaching in to take her pulse. “Ma’am?”

“Dr. Ahmad Jones, GP with Sutter Regional Healthcare. Two victims,” the doctor said. “Her name is Larissa. Two apparent gunshot wounds, one to her chest and one in her arm. This tourniquet has been on for three minutes. Prior to that, they had a belt on her arm. I haven’t examined him yet.”

“Okay, sir, we just need you to move back so we can take care of—Oh! This is our other victim.” A medic crouched next to him. “I’m just going to take her radial pulse, sir. If you could scoot back just a bit.”

“I’ll take a look at him,” the doctor said.

Mitchell squeezed her hand, then lowered it carefully to the blanket. Someone helped him move a few feet away onto another blanket, holding him up when he nearly tipped over.

“No palpable radial pulse. I’m going to get her blood pressure.” 

Dr. Jones kneeled next to Mitchell. “I’m going to look at your side if that’s okay, sir.”

“Keep pressure on the chest wound, officer.”

The voices and lights were beginning to blend and blur together. Mitchell coughed, a technique he’d learned from Larissa to raise the blood pressure. 

“She just stopped breathing!”

His ears started ringing.

“No pulse.”

“Do you want me to do chest compressions, or should I keep pressure—”

“I’m on it,” another cop said.

“One, two, three…”

Mitchell was vaguely aware of the doctor touching him, pulling his dress shirt out of the waistband of his pants. But his eyes were on Larissa. A cop leaned over Larissa, hands pumping between her breasts. Her head was tipped to the side, eyes cracked open to glinting slits. Her face looked bloodless, chin bobbing in time with the compressions.

A medic suddenly turned her face toward the sky and tipped her head back, thumbing open her mouth and slipping an oral airway between her teeth. Then he turned the plastic piece and let it rest on her teeth. By the time the cop reached the thirtieth compression, the medic had a bag-valve mask pressed to her face and squeezed the bulb twice.

The other medic was inserting an IV. It took her three tries, but before long, she had a bag connected, which she handed to another cop.

They worked between them to cut Larissa’s gown open to her navel before applying big white defibrillator pads above her right breast and below her left. They also covered her chest wound with a bandage.

“That’s not very deep, but it appears to have damaged this implanted device—”

Larissa’s stomach popped, and her shoulders shrugged with each compression. They’d cut off her strapless bra. Her breasts wobbled, her nipples stiff in the night air.

The doctor was no longer at his side; Mitchell spotted him over by the paramedics’ bags. Then his eyes dropped back to Larissa. Guilt was beginning to sink into his bones; he kept seeing the moment where she’d stepped in front of him, taking bullets meant for him.

“…get her on a pump for a norepinephrine infusion.”

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

The doctor was at his side again. “I’m just going to bandage you up quickly. You’ll need an X-ray and stitches…”

“One, two, three, four…” The cop’s shoulders bobbed sharply over Larissa’s chest.

“How’s the husband?”

“He needs to be monitored for shock.”

Mitchell’s brain seemed to crawl. It ticked back to the comment about the implanted device. “Her ICD. It’s damaged?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dr. Jones replied. “But it did appear to be damaged to me. It was visible inside the wound. They’ve given her medications to bring up her blood pressure, and with chest compressions—”

“Pause compressions to analyze.”

Mitchell watched her chest rise and fall as the medic squeezed the bag. To his surprise, he heard someone say: “Sinus brady. Is she breathing on her own?”

He closed his eyes and slouched. He was shivering harder again, but he didn’t have the energy to pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“No, I’m continuing ventilations.” The medic reached over and dragged a bag closer. “I’m going to suction her.”

“I’m pushing one milligram atropine. Go ahead and intubate after you suction, I don’t like her oxygen saturation.”

“Mitchell, how are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

“She’s B negative,” Mitchell whispered.

The voices continued around him.

“What happened to their other bus?”

“They just happened to be around the corner from an apparent 10-56. White male subject with a gun.”

“We’ll take him with us.”

“Mitchell? Mitchell? Hey, do you have another blood pressure cuff?”

“—our White male subject?”

“…administered. She—”

Underneath Mitchell’s eyelids, everything turned white.

“Mitch—”

“—goes!”

Hands laid him flat on his back and opened his airway.

“Is he breathing?”

“He going too, or—wait for—”

Everything dissolved. His surroundings, the blanket and concrete beneath him. His clothing. His body. Larissa and the medics working on her. His company. His family. His name. All that remained was emotion. Love, hatred, hope, despair.

Then there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Mitchell woke to the sensation of movement and the smell of a medical facility.

“ETA is four minutes.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for bringing us along?”

“Probably, but they should have dispatched another ambulance.”

“He’s waking up. Sir? Mitchell?” Someone touched his arm. Mitchell peeled open his eyes and gazed bleary-eyed up at the doctor from before. The man was seated on a bench near his head. “Mitchell?”

“Something’s wrong,” Mitchell muttered. He was laying flat, and when he tried to move he realized he was strapped to a backboard.

“You’re in an ambulance,”

Mitchell looked to the side. 

Larissa lay beside him, strapped to a gurney. She was partially covered with a sheet, her gruesome wounds hidden from sight. A paramedic sat at her head. She looked drained of blood. Her long neck had been extended to open her airway, and a tube jutted out from between her teeth, held in place by a plastic tube holder. The paramedic squeezed the attached bulb every five or six seconds, making her chest rise.

As he watched, an alarm started bleeping.

The medic leaned forward to look, then quickly detached the bag and set it on the gurney. 

“Tell them we have a code!” he called out toward the front. “Female patient!”

As Mitchell watched, the medic stood and moved in between Mitchell and Larissa. He yanked the sheet down to her waist and then reached up for the grab bar with one hand. Then he pressed the heel of his other hand between Larissa’s breasts. Mitchell jerked his head and shoulders up, trying to see what was going on as the medic started one-handed compressions.

“One, two, three…” To the medic’s credit, Mitchell thought the compressions looked good despite being one-handed in a moving vehicle. Larissa’s breasts shook and her stomach bulged with each pump of her sternum. Mitchell could hear the gurney rattle in time with the compressions. “…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

“Mitchell, if you’re okay, I’m going to help with CPR,” the doctor said.

“Go!” Mitchell croaked out beneath his mask. Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to blink them away to clear his vision. The doctor moved from one seat to the other and somewhat clumsily reattached the bag.

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

“Don’t pause!” the doctor said. “I’ve got it!”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two, three, four…”

Mitchell’s shoulders shook with tension and he was forced to drop his head back onto the backboard. He could still see the side of Larissa’s face. There was blood in her hair, dried in the short hairs along her temple and dotted inside the shell of her ear. Her head rocked gently from side to side until the doctor reached out to steady it.

“Two minutes. They’re ready for us.”

The medic switched hands, turning slightly and opening up Mitchell’s view. The breast nearest to Mitchell wobbled, her skin there frighteningly pale aside from her dusky nipple and scattering of freckles.

His hearing was going again, fireflies moved across his line of sight. He coughed hard, winced in pain.

“-ell? Are you—Mitchell?”

“—ten. One—three, four, five—”

“I’m fine,” Mitchell muttered. He bent his hand into a shaky thumbs up. “Fine… fine… Help her. Help Larissa…”

His ears suddenly latched onto the alarm screaming, to the thumping and rattling sound of the gurney. To the slightly out of breath counting of the medic. To the whoosh of the bag-valve mask. To the tires of the ambulance, thudding over a speed bump.

“Please, baby…” he whispered.

Then he closed his eyes and drifted.

He opened them in a long, ivory hallway lined down one side with open windows. A steady breeze blew gauzy curtains into the space, periodically obscuring his view. Sometimes, if the timing was right, he spotted Larissa. She walked away from him, nude, her long hair blowing in the breeze. At the far end of the hall, flickering in and out of sight, was a staticky black hole.

“Larissa!” he called out.

She didn’t stop walking; in fact, the next time she got a good look at her, he realized she was running. Away from him and toward the desolate blackness ahead.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “Larissa, don’t!”

She stopped, and the vision glitched. He found himself standing in front of a window. Larissa stood outside, naked and bleeding from an uncountable number of wounds. Behind her, he could see the ocean.

“It hurts,” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m selfish. Please, don’t leave,” he begged. “Trust me. It gets better.”

Mitchell woke with a start. A bright light blinded him, and when he reached up to shield his eyes, he found himself dragging IV tubing and a pulse oximeter.

“…PEA arrest. Administer one milligram epinephrine. Helen, take over compressions.” The voice came from the other side of a room-dividing curtain.

“Larissa…” Mitchell whispered.

“Sir? Mitchell?” A young man stepped into Mitchell’s line of sight. “I’m Raymond. How are you feeling?”

“My wife…”

“She’s in good hands, Mitchell. You were unconscious when they brought you in. Can you follow my finger?”

Mitchell watched the nurse move his finger from side to side.

“I’m told there are some people in the waiting room for you. Your brother?”

“How…” Mitchell suddenly remembered Maeve, Kieran’s cousin. She was going to call Kieran, and Kieran would have called Mark.

“You’re going to have to go for a few scans, and then your brother can come in, okay?”

“My wife…”

“I promise, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.” The nurse glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back soon, or someone will be in to take you for an X-ray, okay?”

Mitchell waited until he was sure he was gone, then he reached up and removed his oxygen mask, dropping it to the side. He pushed the sheet back, kicking it off with difficulty. They’d cut his shirt off and applied a large bandage to his side. He pressed his hand there, groaning involuntarily as he sat up. Then he swung his feet over the side of the bed and grasped hold of his IV tree.

When he stood, the room canted dangerously around him. He gritted his teeth and tensed his legs until his vision cleared. Then he shuffled toward the curtain dividing his bay from Larissa’s. Trembling fingers grasped the edge and pulled it back, just far enough for him to see what was happening.

The sight could have been from his worst nightmare.

Larissa, naked on the hospital bed. A nurse stood on a step facing him, her hands forcing Larissa’s breastbone deep at a rapid clip. Her bloodied breasts wobbled with each pump. A doctor or resident in a white coat stood at Larissa’s head, giving her breaths through her tube. Another tube had been threaded down her left nostril. White pads with a plastic puck in the center covered a large swath of her chest, along with a soiled bandage over the wound above her heart.

To the side, he saw another person in scrubs adjusting a machine. It looked like an IV tree on steroids, with twin bags hanging at the top. Another nurse stood to his side, updating information on a computer. A surprising number of people were in the room, but to Mitchell’s relief, no one noticed his eye trained on the evidently lifeless form of his wife. 

He would never get used to the sight. Air forced in and out of her. Her sternum used to pump her heart. Her shoulders shrugging and her stomach popping up each time her chest was forced down. It was undeniably worse with the blood.

He wasn’t going hurt her.

Or so he said.

He just wanted to hurt me.

I should have grabbed her arm and pulled her behind me. I should have told her to run.

Fuck. She wouldn’t have run.

The knowledge that someone could love him enough to die for him cut deep.

“In thirty seconds we’re going to do a rhythm check, and then Charles will take over compressions.”

Helen bobbed relentlessly over Larissa, unfazed by the alarms or the people bustling around her. Her lips moved, counting in time with the metronome beeping out a morbid rhythm. 

“They’re holding an OR for her if you achieve return of spontaneous circulation.”

“Pause compressions for a rhythm check.”

Helen lifted her hands, breathing hard as she stepped down and to the side. A man replaced her, his eyes moving to the monitor.

“That’s v-fib!”

The man immediately bent over Larissa, rolling his shoulders into place and rocking his weight into her sternum.

“Charge to three-sixty.”

The man pumped her chest ten times and then Mitchell heard someone say: “Clear. Everyone clear.”

The man performing chest compressions lifted his hands and the woman at her head unhooked the bag.

“Administering shock.” Larissa’s chest jerked, her back flinching slightly up off the bed and her damaged arm flopping to the side. Immediately, Charles the nurse began pumping her chest again, his hands forcing the pad in the center of her chest down. 

“Push harder!” A robotic voice commanded. Charles complied, bringing his shoulders over his hands and making Larissa’s stomach bulge.

“What’s her blood pressure?”

Mitchell’s fist came up to his mouth, pressing so hard against his lips that his teeth dug into the inside. 

“Seventy over fifty-five.”

The hospital bed squeaked as Charles thrust his hands down over and over again. Down, sinking her chest and popping her abdomen. Up, her ribcage springing back and her stomach deflating. The whoosh of ventilations several seconds apart and between compressions.

Mitchell leaned against the wall, trying to make sure he didn’t move the curtain and call attention to himself. He felt nauseated; knew he should go lay down. Knew the second a nurse or doctor walked in, he’d be in trouble.

Come back, baby. Please. I don’t want to do it without you.

“Rhythm check in thirty seconds. Helen, you can take over for Jane. Jane, you’ll be on compressions.”

Pump and pump and pump and pump…

Mitchell’s side hurt with each breath he took, so he tried to breathe shallowly. He could feel his heart galloping in his chest.

“Alright. Pause compressions. Rhythm is showing as… sinus tachycardia. Good job, folks. Helen, keep up ventilations. Jane, call the OR and tell them she’s headed their way. Ask about a cooling vest.” The doctor speaking walked through Mitchell’s line of sight. “The husband is next door?”

Shit.

Mitchell cast one more glance at Larissa. She still looked to be at death’s door, and he wished he could talk to her, or at her, before they took her away. Mitchell eased backward, trying subtlely to release the curtain.

“Ah… Looks like the husband is watching us right now.”

Busted.

Mitchell pushed open the curtain. “You’re about to take her for surgery, right?” His voice sounded gravelly.

“Sir—”

“I just want to talk to her before you take her. Is there time?” Mitchell drew himself up to his full height, gritting his teeth against the pain. Then he forced himself to unlock his jaw and quietly asked: “Please?”

The doctor nodded and hurried forward, reaching for Mitchell’s arm. “Yes. You have a short minute, but I want to make sure you don’t fall.”

Mitchell let the doctor escort him to Larissa’s side. The nurse was still squeezing the bag regularly, making Larissa’s chest rise and fall. He’d ended up on her wounded side, so he rested his hand on the top of her head, his thumb falling on her forehead. Mitchell leaned close to her ear. 

“Baby, it’s Mitchell. Stay with us, okay? I don’t want to do all those things without you. Pull through and I promise I will sell and we will do anything you want. I don’t care what it is as long as I can be with you, okay? I love you.” Mitchell pressed his lips to her temple. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at the doctor. “Make sure they take good care of her.”

Days later

Larissa stirred.

She had a talent for waking up after most of her visitors had gone. She’d been in and out for most of the day, mumbling nonsense and crying when she was awake.

Mitchell suspected this time would be no different, but he was still excited to see her move of her own accord. It was much better than the first time he’d seen her after her first surgery, laying so still, pale and cold and on a ventilator. She’d gotten off the ventilator quickly and had two more surgeries. He was looking forward to her being coherent enough for him to be sure his Larissa really had survived.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she grimaced, letting out a quiet cry.

“Hey…” Mitchell squeezed her hand and stood, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He leaned over her as much as he could, wanting to keep hold of her hand but knowing he was on the same side as her bad ear. “Larissa, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital. It’s Mitchell. I’m safe, too.”

Larissa cracked open her eyes, her slightly swollen lids nearly obscuring her irises. 

“Hey, baby.” Mitchell squeezed her hand, speaking loudly. He reached in with his other hand and ran his knuckles down her cheek.

Larissa leaned into his touch, and Mitchell sucked in a sharp breath. It was the first time she’d reacted to anyone’s attempts to comfort her.

“Mitchell…” Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes opened wider. “Mitchell…”

“I’m here! I love you!” He cupped her cheek. “How do you feel?”

She blinked a few times, then let out a huff of air that almost sounded like a groan. “N-not great…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Ben Miller.” Her voice was flat.

Mitchell squeezed her hand again. “We never have to worry about him again, Larissa. He’s dead. He… hurt himself. He’s dead.”

“You’re… okay?” her brow furrowed. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay… You…” Mitchell’s voice went wobbly, and he cleared his throat. “You saved me, Larissa.”

She seemed to ponder this for a long time before she spoke again. “I owed you one.”

Mitchell snorted, and then, to his dismay, he started crying. He hunched over their clasped hands, gasping as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Come… here…” Her hand weakly tugged at his. Mitchell tipped forward, his face pressing into her good shoulder. Larissa whispered: “Ahhh, honey. It’s okay…”

“We’re selling the company,” Mitchell said, his voice muffled.

“What?”

He took a shuddering breath and turned his head so that his lips weren’t pressed into her hospital gown. “We’re selling the company. And we’ll buy that house in Hawaii. Shit, that can be our main home.”

He lifted his head to see if she understood him.

“Good,” she whispered. She looked exhausted, but the ache in his chest was dissipating the more obvious it became that she was still herself.

“Larissa…”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

--

The story continues in: Saving Mitchell

[sultrysirens]

Monstertober 2022: Part 4: Troll

Universe: Original

Characters: Reader, Troll

Rating: Mature

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Being an employee at a gym had two great benefits: first, you got to work out on your off days for free; second, you got to meet and get to know a ton of people, many of whom were really cool. 

But working at a mixed-race gym was even better, because it meant you also got to know orcs, minotaurs, satyrs, werewolves and more. To your surprise, most of them were pretty chill people. They’d chat you up from time to time, share tips, compliment one another and the like. You got to know some of them personally and hung out outside of the gym on occasion. 

There was an orc named Gurn who was one of your best friends, in part because he was a really squishy teddy bear underneath. He recently confessed to you that he had a massive crush on a satyr he’d met a few weeks back, and it was legitimately enjoyable to encourage him to go confess to the other man. 

They were dating now, and it gave you butterflies the first time Gurn brought his new boyfriend to the gym to show him around. They were adorable together. 

But the patron who had your eye most recently was Loran, a troll. He was a new member of the gym, had only shown up a week prior, but he was already becoming a bit of a celebrity. 

His skin was a bright, aquamarine blue, for one thing, his hair thick, long and navy blue. True to form for most trolls, he was tall and lanky, probably stood close to seven feet tall — when he wasn’t slumping, which he usually was. And his tusks were massive, over a foot long each, with tribal designs carved into them. 

Similar to orcs, Loran’s strength was greater than his musculature appeared. While he wasn’t the strongest patron by far, he was still able to use the heavy-duty machines specifically designed for the fey clientele. 

Like a bunch of other gym stars, he garnered a lot of stares while he worked out, and you were a little embarrassed to admit that yours sometimes joined the others — especially when he paused between sets to stretch, showing off (unintentionally or otherwise) how incredibly limber he was. 

Honestly, you hadn’t seen many patrons that flexible. 

But Loran wasn’t much of a talker, you found. In fact, so far you hadn’t heard a word from him; he gave nods and waves in greeting, and sometimes he just waved people off when they got too close, but otherwise he kept to himself and kept quiet. 

Weirdly, you didn’t get the impression he was embarrassed by the attention he got, nor did he come off as arrogant or dickish. He was just quiet. 

It made you ravenously curious. 

You got your answer why a few months into his patronage. Every so often he’d stay late, almost as if he simply didn’t want to be wherever else he was supposed to be, even staying until closing twice before. Today was another such occasion, and it fell to you to call everyone to get off the machines about a half hour till closing. 

Loran was among those who’d been lingering, and at your warning he nodded and headed to the changing rooms with the others. 

You and a coworker cleaned up the floor and the machines, putting misplaced weights back in their places and such. As you did so a particular patron who’d been flirting with you lingered nearby, clearly watching you. 

Marinka was a selkie woman with fine, blonde hair and nearly matching skin tone. Like most selkies you’d met, her skin was slightly glossy all the time and her irises were twice the size of a human’s, giving her an animalistic look. And she was clearly crushing on you, hard. 

You didn’t mind so much. She was sweet and kind of shy sometimes, adorable as could be. She knew better by now than to disrupt your work, so instead she stayed near the entrance and waited for you to be done. This was the umpteenth she’d done so and honestly you liked talking to her, though your gentle declines of her occasional flirts hadn’t done much to dissuade her. 

It didn’t bother you; it seemed like being a little flirty was just in her nature, and she’d never pushed for anything besides. You were starting to think she just liked talking to you, so why not just join her in conversation? 

Once your work was done and you had your personal belongings you waited with her by the door, waiting until all of the patrons had filed out. You were almost instinctively looking for Loran as you waited for them to file out, and he was last in line, allowing a pair of others ahead of him with a nod. 

You nudged Marinka ahead of you, and your coworker left with the others. Once everyone was out, you locked up and strode over to the selkie. 

“So,” you promoted her even as your eyes sought out Loran as he headed out into the parking lot, “what’s the plan?” 

“Why do you mean?” she asked, canting her head at you. 

“You usually ask me to hang out with you somewhere. So what’d you pick for tonight?” you asked her. Given she usually fronted whatever bill you received from these outings, you weren’t particularly opposed to them. 

“Well—” she started, then paused, blinking over your shoulder. 

Curious, you glanced back, your stomach giving an embarrassing flutter as you recognized that Loran had turned back around and was heading back to you. It looked like he was holding something in his four-fingered hand, analyzing it. 

Confused and intrigued, you asked Marinka, “He’s coming back?” 

“Maybe he found something?” she offered, shrugging. “He’s definitely holding something.” 

“Looks like a cup?” you said, squinting at the object. In his large hand, though, it was hard to be certain. And, figuring it was useless to guess, you turned back to your companion, saying, “Well, whatever it is, he—” 

Your voice dried up when you noticed a figure step out of the shadows behind Marinka, lunging at her. Before you could do anything more than give a shout in warning it had her by the neck, a red-tinted arm banding around her throat. 

She shrieked, flailing, and your impulsive move to jump at the assailant stopped when you recognized the glint of metal in the light. Suddenly a knife was at her jaw, and a deep, raspy voice snarled, “Don’t make a move.” 

You slowly lifted your hands, concern for your friend overriding all else. 

Marinka gave a snarl in return, her carnivorous teeth lengthening threateningly. “Jareg, I swear, if that’s you—” she hissed in a guttural tone you’d never heard her use before. 

“Jareg?” you echoed, your heart stuttering with fear. 

“We’re going,” the male told her, tugging her backwards as he started to retreat. 

Anger rose to battle the fear in you. Oh, no — you were not about to stand here and watch a friend of yours get fucking kidnapped. “Let go of her — right now,” you warned harshly. 

“I got this,” Marinka assured you, then promptly chomped down on the arm holding her. 

Blood splurted from the bite, Jareg howling in pain and flinging away from her. Enraged, he swung the blade at her and she went wheeling backwards to avoid it, tripping over the sidewalk and landing sprawled in the street. 

You were so focused on Marinka and Jareg that you hadn’t noticed the heavy, thudding footsteps behind you. When you made a lunge towards Jareg, intending to knock him in the head with all your not-inconsiderate strength, he pivoted and turned the knife towards you. At the same time a sudden yank at the back of your jacket hauled you off your feet, narrowly pulling you out of the range of the knife. 

Loran was stepping past you in the next second, and Jareg — who, you now saw, was an oni with a single horn poking out of his forehead — was in a terrible position, off-balance. 

Loran caught him by the neck, and in one hard thrust, Jareg went soaring through the air. The oni was large, bigger than Loran in every way, and he slammed into a tree, snapping the trunk clean in half and tumbling to the ground. 

Obviously injured, now, Jareg took a moment to get back to his feet, wincing from the pain in his back, unable to stand upright, hacking for air and cradling his injured arm. His knife had vanished at some point in that toss, but he squared off against Loran all the same, assuming a fighting stance. 

You dove for Marinka, hauling her back to her feet and guiding the both of you back. This was about to become a fey battle and the last thing a human like you should do was get involved in it. As for Marinka, you just wanted to keep her safe, away from the bloodbath you could see was about to occur. 

She wiped the blood off her mouth, and you realized too late that she was holding her neck, blood oozing from between her fingers. Shit! 

“Fuck, fuck—” you swore, digging in your pocket for your phone, trying to keep eyes on both Marinka and the troll and oni. The males charged at each other and slammed together as you struggled to dial 9-1-1, and you were working on auto-pilot as you attempted to keep focused on three points at once. 

You let Marinka use your coat to staunch her bleeding, rattled off what information you had to emergency services, and watched in a state of awe as the males scrapped right in front of you. 

Jareg was definitely bigger than Loran, broader and heavier, but it was clear that he didn’t really know how to fight. Loran shifted into some kind of beast as they fought, not physically but in method, and he was clearly trained in his form of battle. He bullied Jareg around, took blows and barely staggered from it, and at one point used his tusks to catch and snap Jareg’s arm. 

It ended as suddenly as it began with Loran seizing Jareg by the back of the head, lifting him off his feet, and then slamming him face-first into the pavement. Jareg didn’t get up again, and soon a puddle of blood was easing out from around his face. 

Loran stepped back at last, heaving with breath, and you realized after the fact that in that entire fight he’d still never once made a sound. He finally backed off from his fallen foe and turned back to you, looking you over with one black eye squeezed shut, then giving Marinka the same once-over. 

He approached where she sat on the ground at the same time that you started to hear sirens in the distance, and he pulled something out of his coat pocket as he crouched down in front of her. It was his phone, you saw, and he opened a text app and typed on it, then turned it towards her. 

Are you okay? 

She read it and nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice tight. 

Absently, you heard the dispatcher on the other end of the line ask you for an update and you informed her that the fight was over, the assailant was knocked out. Then, hanging up, you moved to sit beside Marinka, giving Loran a steady look. 

You couldn’t help asking, “Are you mute?” 

He gave you a look, seeming reluctant, then nodded. 

Oh. Well, that explained a great deal, you thought. No wonder he’d never said anything to his fans or even made a single grunt or snarl that whole fight. 

He literally couldn’t. 

Though a part of you desperately wanted to know more, you held back, saying, “Thank you. For your help. I don’t know what would’ve happened if…” you started, then trailed off, looking past him to where Jareg remained prone on the ground. 

A crowd had gathered during the fight, and now you could see a group of three large men — an orc and two humans, you thought — keeping guard of the knocked-out oni. They were keeping everyone else back, too, not that there were too many stragglers this time of night. 

Wheels squealed as vehicles turned into the parking lot, and immediately the few pedestrians were flagging down the police cars and ambulance. Before you had time to do much more than identify yourself to the officers and help Marinka identify herself, she was loaded up and gone. 

The next hour was a flurry you barely had the cognizance to follow. Two officers spoke to you, and several others questioned the pedestrians and Loran — who was given an interpreter to help him communicate. Jareg was given first aid, woken up, and eventually taken away in another ambulance. 

For a while it looked like Loran might get arrested, but you backed him up and assured the officers that he was just protecting Marinka the entire time. 

In the end, the police left without him but only after you’d both given statements. You needed some time to come to terms with what had happened, though, so after everyone else had already dispersed you remained behind, sitting on the curb and replaying those few minutes that had turned into such a visceral memory to you. 

Loran lingered too; you guessed he was watching over you in a similar way to how he’d defended Marinka. He just quietly sat nearby, close enough that it was obvious he was here for you yet far enough to not crowd you. 

You appreciated that. And, after a little while, you turned to him. 

“Loran?” 

He glanced at you. 

“Why did you come back?” you asked. Curiosity had been plaguing you this entire time. You remember him coming towards you with something in his hand, but you never saw what it was, and after the circus that had followed the attack you hadn’t had a second to gather your thoughts enough to ask. 

He gave a silent laugh, then scooted over closer to you, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew his phone and typed on it, then showed you. 

Found a cup. Figured it belonged to someone from the gym. Dropped it. 

Then he pointed past you to where he’d come from, and when you looked, you saw splinters of plastic in the road. One of the vehicles must have run it over, you guessed. 

You chuckled. “Well,” you offered, giving him a wry smile, “if someone comes over asking for it, I can tell them it got crushed.” 

He typed on his phone again. 

Maybe. 

“Maybe,” you agreed. 

You fell into silence again, and it was strangely comfortable and warm despite the cold night. Maybe it was because you had such a fine companion to chase away the chill? 

You stretched your legs out, sighing up at the sky. Then, unable to stem your curiosity, you prompted, “Loran? …This might sound weird,” you hedged, “but during that fight…I saw you use — um — use your tusks to break that guy’s arm. Is that, like…common?” 

He looked amused, and this close you realized for the first time that his eyes were an even lighter blue than his skin. He took a moment to type out a reply, then showed you again. 

Too hard to explain this way. Takes time. 

You nodded, accepting that, and made a silent promise to learn sign language. You’d always had the inclination to learn anyway, but now you had a reason. 

“Don’t worry about it, then,” you said, smiling at him. “I’m just glad you came back when you did. The way things were going…I mean, I know it’s not healthy to envision it, but Marinka…she’d probably be kidnapped by now, and I’d just be…bleeding,” you finished, morose. You couldn’t help rubbing at your chest where you recall Jareg’s knife had been aimed, wondering which — if any — of your vital organs it would’ve pierced. 

There was a chance that, had Loran not yanked you out of the way, you could be dead right now. 

Suddenly a heavy weight thumped on your head, and you found Loran giving you an affectionate kind of smile as he tousled your hair. 

Before you knew it you were grinning and laughing, shoving his hand away. “Don’t patronize me,” you chided, and he grinned down at you. 

You found yourself enraptured by that smile, feeling lighter and brighter than before. 

[lifefitindiaa]

Olympic Incline Bench: The Key to Enhanced Strength Training

When it comes to building upper body strength and targeting specific muscle groups, the Olympic incline bench is a game-changer. This versatile piece of equipment plays a crucial role in strength training, allowing you to perform a variety of exercises that emphasize different angles and parts of your chest, shoulders, and triceps. In this article, we will explore the benefits and features of the Olympic Incline Bench for strength training and why it should be an essential part of your strength training arsenal.

1. Optimized Angle for Targeted Muscle Activation

The Olympic incline bench is designed with an adjustable backrest that allows you to set the bench at various angles, typically ranging from 15 to 45 degrees. This adjustability is key for targeting different parts of the upper body:

Upper Chest: An incline angle effectively isolates the upper portion of the pectoral muscles, which is often challenging to target with flat bench presses alone.

Shoulders: By adjusting the angle, you can also focus on different shoulder muscles, particularly the anterior deltoids.

Triceps: Incline presses engage the triceps more intensely, contributing to balanced arm development.

This versatility makes the Olympic incline bench a valuable tool for achieving comprehensive upper body strength.

2. Superior Build Quality for Heavy Lifting

Built to withstand intense workouts, the Olympic incline bench is typically constructed from heavy-duty steel. Its robust frame provides excellent stability, ensuring that the bench remains secure even under substantial loads. This durability allows for safe and effective lifting, accommodating both beginner and advanced lifters who are pushing their limits.

3. Adjustable and Customizable

One of the standout features of the Olympic incline bench is its adjustability. The bench’s backrest can be set to various incline positions, enabling you to customize your workout according to your specific training goals. Whether you prefer a steeper incline for greater shoulder activation or a more moderate angle for a balanced chest workout, the Olympic incline bench allows for precise adjustments.

4. Versatility in Exercise Selection

The Olympic incline bench is not limited to just bench presses. It supports a wide range of exercises that enhance upper body strength and muscle definition:

Incline Bench Press: Focuses on the upper chest and shoulders.

Incline Dumbbell Press: Provides a greater range of motion and activates stabilizing muscles.

Incline Flyes: Targets the chest with a different angle, promoting overall muscle growth.

Incline Shoulder Press: Engages the deltoids and triceps.

This versatility ensures that you can vary your routine and prevent plateaus, contributing to continuous progress.

5. Enhanced Safety Features

Safety is a top priority when performing heavy lifts, and the Olympic incline bench is designed with this in mind. Features such as non-slip footrests and secure, easy-to-adjust backrests help maintain stability during exercises. Additionally, the bench often includes a sturdy rack for barbell storage, ensuring that weights are safely placed when not in use.

6. Space-Efficient Design

Despite its robust construction, the Olympic incline bench is designed to be space-efficient. Its compact footprint fits well in home gyms and commercial fitness spaces, providing a range of exercise options without occupying excessive floor space.

7. Value for Investment

The Olympic incline bench offers exceptional value for its cost. Given its durability, versatility, and the range of exercises it supports, it represents a worthwhile investment for anyone serious about strength training. Its high-quality build ensures long-term performance, making it a reliable addition to any gym setup.

Conclusion

The Olympic incline bench is a cornerstone for effective upper body strength training. Its ability to target different muscle groups, coupled with its robust construction and versatility, makes it an essential piece of equipment for achieving comprehensive strength and muscle development. Whether you’re aiming to build upper chest strength, enhance shoulder definition, or improve overall arm power, the Olympic incline bench provides the tools you need to reach your fitness goals. Invest in this versatile piece of equipment and

 experience the benefits of a well-rounded strength training regimen.

[thexptcom]

Maximize Your Gym Experience with Foldable Gym Benches and Commercial Treadmills from TheXPT.com

When it comes to building a fully equipped gym, either at home or commercially, two essential pieces of equipment stand out: the foldable gym bench and the **commercial treadmill**. These versatile machines not only save space but also offer functionality and durability that help you meet your fitness goals. At **TheXPT.com**, we pride ourselves on offering the best gym equipment for both personal and professional use. Whether you're outfitting a small home gym or a bustling commercial fitness center, investing in quality equipment is crucial for both performance and safety.

### Why Choose a Foldable Gym Bench?

A **foldable gym bench** is one of the most practical and space-efficient pieces of equipment you can add to any gym setup. It offers the perfect balance between strength training and ease of storage, making it ideal for anyone with limited space. But the benefits don’t stop there. Here’s why a foldable gym bench should be at the top of your list:

1. **Space-Saving Design**  

   One of the primary advantages of a foldable gym bench is its space-saving nature. Whether you’re working with a small home gym or a large commercial facility, being able to fold and store your bench when it’s not in use is incredibly convenient. This feature ensures that you can maximize floor space for other exercises and equipment.

2. **Versatility for Full-Body Workouts**  

   A foldable gym bench allows you to perform a variety of exercises, from bench presses to dumbbell rows, and even bodyweight movements like step-ups and tricep dips. You can adjust the bench to different angles (flat, incline, or decline) to target various muscle groups, ensuring a complete full-body workout.

3. **Stability and Durability**  

   At **TheXPT.com**, we understand that quality is key when it comes to gym equipment. That’s why we offer foldable gym benches that are sturdy, durable, and built to withstand the wear and tear of regular use. You don’t have to sacrifice stability for convenience. Our benches provide solid support whether you’re lifting heavy weights or doing bodyweight exercises.

4. **Easy Storage**  

   Home gym enthusiasts, in particular, will appreciate the easy storage options that a foldable bench offers. Once your workout is over, simply fold the bench and tuck it away under a bed, in a closet, or against a wall. This makes it ideal for people living in apartments or homes with limited space.

### Best Commercial Treadmill for Gym Owners

If you're a gym owner, selecting the best commercial treadmill  for your facility can be a daunting task. Treadmills are among the most popular cardio machines, and offering high-quality, reliable treadmills is a must for attracting and retaining clients. At **TheXPT.com**, we specialize in providing the best commercial-grade treadmills designed to withstand heavy usage, while offering a smooth, enjoyable workout experience for your customers.

Here’s why choosing the right commercial treadmill is crucial for your gym's success:

1. **Durability and Heavy-Duty Construction**  

   Commercial treadmills need to endure hours of use each day without compromising performance. The best commercial treadmills, like those offered by **TheXPT.com**, are built with heavy-duty frames, high-quality motors, and durable belts that can handle constant usage. These machines are designed for longevity, so you won’t have to worry about constant repairs or replacements.

2. **Advanced Features for User Experience**  

   Today’s fitness enthusiasts expect more than just a running belt and speed control. The best commercial treadmills come equipped with advanced features such as heart rate monitors, pre-set workout programs, interactive screens, and incline/decline settings. At **TheXPT.com**, our treadmills also offer connectivity with fitness apps and Bluetooth, allowing users to track their progress and stay motivated.

3. **Safety and Comfort**  

   Safety is a top priority, especially in a commercial gym environment where multiple users will be working out throughout the day. The treadmills from **TheXPT.com** include essential safety features like emergency stop buttons, cushioned decks to minimize impact on joints, and wide running belts for added comfort. These features not only protect your clients but also ensure a more enjoyable workout experience.

4. **Cost-Effectiveness**  

   When selecting the best commercial treadmill, it’s essential to balance quality and cost. While cheap treadmills may seem like a good idea initially, they often come with hidden costs in the form of repairs and replacements. At TheXPT.com, we offer top-tier commercial treadmills that are not only affordable but also cost-effective in the long run due to their durability and minimal maintenance requirements.

5. **Brand Reputation**  

   Buying from a trusted supplier is critical to ensuring that you're investing in a reliable product. At TheXPT.com, we’ve built a reputation for offering high-quality gym equipment that stands the test of time. Our commercial treadmills come with warranties, and our customer service team is always on hand to assist with any questions or issues that may arise.

### TheXPT.com: Your Go-To for Gym Equipment

At TheXPT.com we are committed to helping you create the best fitness experience, whether it's in your home or a large commercial gym. Our foldable gym benches and commercial treadmills are designed with your needs in mind—offering flexibility, durability, and innovation. With a focus on quality and customer satisfaction, we ensure that our products meet the highest standards.

If you’re looking to outfit your gym with the best equipment on the market, visit  TheXPT.com today to browse our wide selection of foldable gym benches, commercial treadmills, and more. Let us help you take your fitness experience to the next level!

[unitedflooring]

Why Rubber Flooring Tiles Are Perfect for High-Traffic Commercial Areas

Introduction

In commercial spaces where foot traffic is constant and heavy, choosing the right flooring is essential. Rubber flooring tiles have become a go-to solution for businesses looking to combine durability with ease of maintenance. In this blog, we’ll explore why rubber flooring tiles are an excellent choice for high-traffic commercial areas, highlighting their benefits as heavy-duty flooring tiles and a long-lasting commercial flooring option.

1. Built to Handle Heavy Traffic

One of the most significant advantages of rubber flooring tiles is their ability to endure heavy foot traffic. In busy environments like retail stores, office buildings, airports, and gyms, floors need to withstand the wear and tear of hundreds or even thousands of footsteps every day. Rubber flooring tiles are designed as heavy-duty flooring tiles that can handle the constant pressure without wearing down, cracking, or showing significant signs of wear.

2. Long-Lasting Durability

When investing in commercial flooring, longevity is a key consideration. Rubber flooring tiles are known for their incredible durability, making them a long-lasting commercial flooring option. Unlike other flooring materials that may require frequent replacement or repair, rubber tiles maintain their integrity over time, even under the stress of heavy usage. This durability translates into cost savings, as businesses won’t need to replace their flooring as often.

3. Comfort Underfoot

In addition to being tough, rubber flooring tiles offer a level of comfort that is not always found in other heavy-duty flooring options. These tiles have a natural elasticity that provides a cushioned surface, reducing fatigue for employees who spend long hours on their feet. This added comfort is particularly beneficial in environments like hospitals, warehouses, and kitchens, where standing for extended periods is common.

4. Low Maintenance and Easy Cleaning

Maintaining a clean and professional appearance is crucial in any commercial space. Rubber flooring tiles make this task easier. They are resistant to stains, spills, and dirt, and their smooth surface makes them easy to clean. Regular sweeping and mopping are usually sufficient to keep rubber floors looking their best. The long-lasting commercial flooring nature of rubber tiles also means they don’t require frequent refinishing or repairs, reducing maintenance costs over time.

5. Eco-Friendly Choice

Many businesses today are looking for sustainable solutions, and rubber flooring tiles fit the bill. Often made from recycled materials, these tiles are an eco-friendly option that contributes to reducing environmental impact. Choosing rubber flooring tiles can help businesses achieve their sustainability goals while still providing a high-performance flooring solution.

6. Versatile Design Options

Rubber flooring tiles are available in a wide range of colors, patterns, and textures, allowing businesses to choose a design that complements their brand and interior decor. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, modern look or a more traditional style, rubber tiles can be customized to fit the aesthetic of any commercial space.

7. Resistant to Wear and Tear

High-traffic areas often face challenges like scuffs, scratches, and dents. Rubber flooring tiles are naturally resistant to these common forms of damage. Their tough surface can handle the impact of heavy objects, rolling carts, and other equipment, making them ideal for spaces where wear and tear is a concern.

Conclusion

Rubber flooring tiles offer the perfect blend of durability, safety, and aesthetics for high-traffic commercial areas. As heavy-duty flooring tiles with long-lasting commercial flooring benefits, they are an investment that pays off in both performance and longevity. Whether you’re outfitting a retail space, office, or gym, rubber flooring tiles are a smart, sustainable choice that will serve your business well for years to come.

[evawillyspage]

Garage Flooring

Garages are no longer just a place to park your car or store tools—they've become an extension of the home. Whether you use your garage for parking, as a workshop, or even as an additional living space, choosing the right flooring can make a significant difference in its functionality, durability, and aesthetics. In this guide, we'll explore the different types of garage flooring options available, their benefits, and what to consider when making your choice. Our specialty is simple garage floor coverings, such as interlocking garage tiles composed of flexible PVC or high-impact polymer. Our best-selling high-impact polymer tiles are available in nine distinct colors and three distinct patterns. Any kind of automobile, truck, or SUV can be loaded onto flexible PVC tiles or high-impact polymer tiles. The interlocking tiles will not come apart as a car wheel turns because they employ a special loop-to-peg connection mechanism.

Epoxy Coating Pros:

Durability: Epoxy coatings are highly resistant to stains, chemicals, and abrasions, making them ideal for garages. Aesthetics: Available in various colors and finishes (such as metallic or flake), epoxy can provide a sleek, polished look. Ease of Maintenance: The non-porous surface is easy to clean with a mop or a pressure washer. Cons:

Installation: The process can be labor-intensive and time-consuming, often requiring professional installation. Temperature Sensitivity: Epoxy can crack or peel in extreme temperature conditions if not installed correctly. Best For: Homeowners looking for a long-lasting, low-maintenance solution that offers both durability and style.

Garage Floor Tiles Types of Tiles:

Rigid Plastic (PVC or Polypropylene): Durable, easy to clean, and resistant to most chemicals. Rubber Tiles: Soft underfoot, providing cushioning for workshops or home gyms. Peel-and-Stick Vinyl Tiles: Budget-friendly and easy to install but less durable than other options. Pros:

Easy Installation: Most tiles can be installed without adhesives, making it a DIY-friendly option. Customization: Available in various colors, patterns, and materials, allowing for custom designs. Resilience: Resistant to stains, chemicals, and moisture, depending on the type. Cons:

Cost: Higher-quality tiles can be expensive. Moisture Issues: Some tiles, especially rubber, can trap moisture underneath, leading to mold or mildew. Best For: Those who want a customizable, easy-to-install option that provides flexibility in design.

Concrete Sealer Pros:

Protection: Seals the concrete surface, protecting it from moisture, stains, and chemicals. Cost-Effective: A more affordable option compared to epoxy or tiles. Natural Look: Enhances the natural look of concrete, ideal for those who prefer a minimalist aesthetic. Cons:

Maintenance: Requires reapplication every few years. Limited Aesthetic Appeal: Does not provide as many design options as epoxy or tiles. Best For: Homeowners who want to protect their concrete floors while maintaining a natural look at a lower cost.

Garage Floor Mats Types of Mats:

Roll-Out Mats: Easy to install by simply rolling them out on the floor. Interlocking Mats: Made of heavy-duty rubber or vinyl, these mats snap together for a secure fit. Pros:

Ease of Installation: No adhesives or special tools are required. Portable: Mats can be easily removed or replaced. Versatility: Ideal for temporary setups or areas with heavy foot traffic. Cons:

Durability: May wear down faster than more permanent options like epoxy or tiles. Aesthetic Limitations: Limited color and design options. Best For: Renters or those looking for a temporary, portable solution that provides comfort and protection.

Polished Concrete Pros:

Low Maintenance: Requires minimal upkeep and is resistant to most stains and chemicals. High Durability: Can withstand heavy foot and vehicle traffic. Aesthetic Appeal: Offers a sleek, modern look. Cons:

Initial Cost: Polishing concrete can be expensive due to the labor-intensive process. Slippery When Wet: The polished surface can become slick, especially if it gets wet. Best For: Those looking for a modern, durable, and low-maintenance garage floor.

Key Considerations When Choosing Garage Flooring Purpose of the Garage: Consider whether the space will be used strictly for parking, as a workshop, gym, or an additional living area.

Budget: Flooring options range from cost-effective sealers to high-end epoxy coatings or tiles.

Climate: Some materials are more sensitive to temperature changes and moisture levels, affecting durability.

Ease of Installation: DIY options like mats and tiles are more manageable for the average homeowner, while epoxy and polished concrete may require professional installation.

Aesthetics: Choose a flooring option that complements the overall look of your home and meets your personal preferences.

Conclusion The best garage flooring depends on your needs, budget, and style. Whether you prefer the durability of epoxy, the versatility of tiles, the simplicity of concrete sealers, or the convenience of mats, there is an option that will transform your garage into a more functional and attractive space.

By carefully considering the pros and cons of each type of flooring, you can select the one that best suits your needs and enhances your garage's overall value and appeal.

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The Ultimate Guide to Commercial Gym Equipment Setup

Setting up a commercial gym is a rewarding venture that requires careful planning and a solid understanding of the necessary equipment. Whether you're opening a new facility or upgrading an existing one, the success of your gym largely depends on the quality and variety of the equipment you offer. In this guide, we’ll explore everything you need to know about commercial gym equipment setup to create a space that attracts fitness enthusiasts and supports their health goals.

1. Understanding Your Audience

Before diving into the specifics of the equipment, it's crucial to understand your target audience. Are you catering to serious bodybuilders, casual fitness enthusiasts, or a mix of both? Your audience will determine the type of equipment you'll need. For instance, a gym focused on strength training will require a variety of heavy-duty machines and free weights, while a facility geared towards general fitness may need more cardio equipment and functional training spaces.

2. Essential Equipment for Commercial Gyms

A well-rounded commercial gym equipment setup should include a balance of machines and free weights to accommodate different types of workouts. Here’s a breakdown of essential equipment categories:

Cardio Machines: Treadmills, ellipticals, stationary bikes, and rowing machines are the backbone of any gym. These machines are essential for cardiovascular training, which is a staple in most fitness routines.

Strength Training Equipment: This includes a variety of machines like leg presses, chest presses, and lat pulldown machines, along with free weights such as dumbbells, barbells, and kettlebells. Having a range of weights and resistance levels will cater to users of all fitness levels.

Functional Training Gear: Functional training has gained popularity, and having equipment like resistance bands, medicine balls, and kettlebells can set your gym apart. Additionally, consider installing rigs and racks for activities like CrossFit or HIIT (High-Intensity Interval Training).

Flexibility and Recovery Tools: Don't overlook the importance of flexibility and recovery. Incorporating stretching areas with mats, foam rollers, and yoga accessories can help your clients prevent injuries and improve overall fitness.

3. Maximizing Space Efficiency

Space is a premium in any commercial gym. The layout should ensure that the gym floor is not overcrowded while providing enough space for each activity. Here are some tips for space planning:

Zoning: Divide the gym into zones for different activities, such as cardio, strength training, and functional fitness. This not only helps in organizing the equipment but also in guiding the flow of traffic.

Multifunctional Equipment: Invest in multifunctional machines that allow for a variety of exercises, saving space and offering more value to your clients.

Storage Solutions: Proper storage for free weights, kettlebells, and other small equipment is essential to maintain a clean and safe environment.

4. Choosing Quality Over Quantity

When setting up a commercial gym, it’s tempting to fill your space with as much equipment as possible. However, focusing on the quality of your equipment rather than the quantity will serve you better in the long run. High-quality machines are more durable, require less maintenance, and provide a better experience for your clients, which can lead to higher retention rates.

5. Budgeting for Your Setup

A successful commercial gym setup requires a significant investment, but budgeting wisely can help you maximize your resources. Consider the following:

Initial Costs: Include the cost of equipment, delivery, and installation. It’s also wise to allocate funds for any necessary renovations or customizations to your space.

Ongoing Expenses: Plan for ongoing costs such as maintenance, repairs, and equipment upgrades. Some machines may require regular servicing, so factor this into your budget.

Financing Options: Explore financing options if upfront costs are prohibitive. Many suppliers offer leasing plans that can ease the financial burden of a large equipment purchase.

6. Partnering with Reliable Suppliers

Your choice of supplier can make or break your commercial gym equipment setup. Partner with suppliers who have a solid reputation for quality and reliability. Look for suppliers who offer comprehensive warranties, customer support, and maintenance services. This will ensure that your equipment remains in top condition, providing a better experience for your clients and reducing downtime.

7. Staying Up-to-Date with Trends

The fitness industry is constantly evolving, with new trends and technologies emerging regularly. Keep an eye on industry trends, such as smart equipment with integrated fitness tracking, or sustainable gym practices, to keep your facility modern and attractive to new clients.

Conclusion

Setting up a commercial gym is a complex but rewarding process. By focusing on a well-planned commercial gym equipment setup, you can create a space that not only meets the needs of your target audience but also stands out in a competitive market. Whether you're starting from scratch or revamping an existing gym, the right equipment, layout, and supplier partnerships will pave the way for your success.

For more insights and to explore high-quality gym equipment, visit Energie Fitness today!