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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months ago

Note

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

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monstersholygrail · 1 month ago

Note

Hello there, can I request a dub-con ghost (like an entity) smut? 🥹

(It's absolutely okay if you can't or don't want to 🫶🏽)

This ended up being dub-con for them both and I think that’s hilarious.

When you bought this genie lamp off of that shady vendor, you were sure there had to be something inside of it. He was extremely adamant about you not touching it until after purchase. You were always curious before but now it was downright suspicious. There had to be an actual genie inside.

The minute you got home you were practically tears apart the protective wrapper around the lamp. Inhaling shakily with anticipation you begin to rub at the lamp, brows furrowing when nothing happens. So you keep going, create a tight friction between your hands and the lamp. As the metal grows hotter you figure it’s just your furious rubbing. But moments later when steam shoots out from the spout, you cry out loudly, dropping the lamp and stumbling back onto the ground.

For a second you wait, expecting a genie to appear. But when a translucent Spector removes itself from the belly of the lamp instead of its tip, your brows furrow. The ghost groans loudly, a shiver running through its… body. He rolls his neck and although it makes no sound you see his form grow looser.

A chill spreads through the air, or at least that’s what you tell yourself as the moment your eyes meet his heated ones, a full-body shiver runs through you. His eyes ignite with lust as he looks over your body all splayed out on the ground and ready for him.

“Thanks for helping me rub one out. Let me give you something in return.”

Before you can scramble away in fear or say a word the ghost is on you and your clothes are flying off of you as if whisked away by the wind. You cry out as you can feel the sensation of his touch, his fingers sinking deep inside your wet fat cunt. You have no idea when or how you got so soaked but it makes the ghost grin wickedly, looking beyond satisfied.

“You get turned on from rubbing a lamp, sweetheart? Or was it that you were really jerking my cock that’s got you all drenched for me?” He asks, condescension dripping from his tone as your slick makes a mess of his fingers. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, forcing you to acknowledge who’s going this to you.

You wanna scream, you wanna refuse his words and make him stop. This isn’t what you were expecting out of this lamp. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good. The sensation of his thick fingers fucking into with abandon, curling inside you at just the right spot, and making you see stars.

A part of you knows you should stop this. Stop him. But it’s almost like you can’t as your body sags all the way onto the floor. You feel yourself getting lost in the pleasure, the pressure in your belly growing the more he pumps his way inside you, far deeper than any human fingers could ever reach.

Your back arches off the ground unnaturally, body warping as if possessed when your orgasm crashes into you. A fierce shriek forcefully rips its way out of your throat as the pleasure courses through you like a tidal wave, breaking eye-contact as you throw your head back. The sensation continues to build, growing so overwhelming that for a moment your vision flashes white and you reach a plane you’ve never gone to before.

When your climax slowly begins to ebb, you can feel your release pooling beneath you and you know you’ve just cum harder than you ever have in your life. The ghost’s dark chuckles have your attention snapping back to him and your eyes widen to see him sucking your essence off his fingers.

“That was fun, kitten. Jerk me off again if you ever wanna go another round,” he says, so casually and nonchalantly you can’t help but gape at him.

Then without waiting for a response you watch as he moves back into the lamp. The silence that follows stretches on painfully. Your limp body still quivering with aftershocks and your labored breath the only sound in the room.

When you feel like you can finally stand on your own trembling legs, you slowly make your way over to the lamp. Hesitantly picking it up. Not sure what might trigger him to come out again. You think about returning it or maybe throwing it away so he can be trapped in the lamp forever.

But the more you think about what to do with it, the more your pussy starts to tingle again. Your body remembering what just happened much more pleasantly than your brain.

Perhaps you need to keep it for a little while longer. Just to figure out what to do with him, of course. Who knows, he may still have some use…

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fishermanshook · 8 months ago

Text

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole.

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 9 months ago

Note

What about the moment Vox realizes he's head over heels in love with the reader? What made him fall for them, too? I'm such a sucker for moments like that. 😫

Short little drabble from bed! This is pre-hotel! (God, we need more visuals of him. I crave more gif options)

Unread Notification [Vox x Reader]

It snuck up on him.

Vox liked to think he was a self-aware guy. He knew his temper was easily triggered, and he spent years crafting charisma and charm to compensate. He knew he overworked, and though he'd never admit it out loud, he knew his weaknesses. So there was no reason his feelings for you should have caught him off guard.

Vox had a type. Or at least, he thought he did. He was attracted to power. To cutting edge personalities full of ambition. He thought he loved the rush of excitement that came with the more cutthroat personalities, even though more often than not, the repercussions of playing with fire was getting burned.

It was after getting burned once again by the careless hands of Valentino that Vox met you. The two of you crossed paths at a club where Valentino had dragged Vox in the name of blowing off some steam. Vox didn't feel up to the loud and busy scene, but he'd been desperate for Valentino's affection and was hoping his needs would finally be satiated. He should have known better. Because of fucking course Angel Dust had to be there.

It would matter if Vox just cut his losses and went home to angrily jerk off, but it didn't matter if he stayed. He'd never hear the end of it from Valentino if he left. The moth would just complain about Vox being needy. It had happened before.

So Vox was stuck sitting at a bar in a club that he didn't even want to be at in the first place while Valentino doted on his favorite collared pet. When Vox noticed you sitting beside him at the bar, watching Valentino and Angel Dust with similar disdain to his own.

At first, he thought you were just some random fangirl, but he quickly learned you had actually shown up because Angel had asked for a night on the town to recover from a porn shoot. You clearly weren't a fan of how things had developed, but the memory of how poorly things went the last time you tried to intervine in his addiction to Valentino's poison was fresh in your mind.

So despite how badly you wanted to leave the crowded place and just go home, you stayed. Just in case. You couldn't abandon him even if it was clear he was too far gone from Valentino's aphrodisiacs to be aware of your presence any longer.

At first, you were hesitant to voice your own frustrations about the reoccurring patterns to Vox. He was the overlord in a fucked up situationship with Valentino, after all. However, after a couple of drinks, Vox had gone off on several of his own rants and by the end of the night you had both let out all of your frustrations in a tipsy moment of relief. And no, not in the way you're thinking.

Eventually, the two of you left the club. It was late, and to both of your disdain, you'd lost track of the company you'd arrived with. It didn't seem to matter to the warm hell night, as you found an empty park bench to sit at and started shooting the shit. It was the start of an unexpected friendship that somehow grew into more without Vox realizing.

He'd come to look forward to the stupid memes you'd text him while he was at work. He liked coming over to your shitty apartment and despite how much he bitched about getting fur on his suits, Vox had passed out on the couch with you and your hellcat several times during movie nights. Unlike with the Vees, if you came to him to vent about your day, he genuinely listened. He wanted to provide the relief you gave him when he'd vent to you.

The realization of his feelings hit him like a freight train. As blaringly obvious the loud horns and bright lights may have been to any outside observer, Vox had blindly tied himself to the track without even knowing where he found the rope.

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after the two of you spent the night marathoning some old, poorly written romcom series. There was popcorn on the floor from where you had thrown the pieces at the horribly stupid couple on the screen while Vox yelled at them for their emotional constipation. Your hair was messily framing your face as the tiniest little snores escape you on occasion. There was a small train of drool running down your chin, and Vox couldn't help but chuckle at how gracelessly you slept.

Without thinking, he tossed a blanket over you and leaned back, so he held you against him where he now lay on the couch. His arms draped over your back, and he smiled softly as your cat noticed the new position and hopped up to lay between your legs. Vox closed his eyes, content as he slowly rubbed your back and let himself relax.

He loved the smell of your shampoo. He loved how he had to use lint rollers after cuddling with you, as stupid and annoying as it could be to keep up the habit. It was worth it, just to remember your smile when he'd find a strand of fur he missed. He loved your stupid sense of humor, and he loved how at peace he felt when he was with you.

For as much as he loved his power and business, he loved getting to let his walls down with you more. He loved getting to just be the dorky guy with a bow tie and vest you poked fun at. He loved the time you tried to make him wear one of your hoodies, only for his head to get stuck. He loved you.

Vox's eyes snapped open as the peaceful sleep he'd almost slipped into was snatched away by the reality of his feelings. His heart was beating so loud, he was surprised you didn't wake up. If anything, you just wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest and it took everything in Vox not to explode there and then.

For the entire night, Vox screamed internally as his body shook, and he repressed the shocks and jolts that threatened to spark and wake you from your peaceful slumber. The overlord looked like exhausted shit by the time you rose with the sun, but he couldn't be damned to care. Not when you sleepily rubbed your eyes and laughed like that. Not when your hair was sticking to your face and you said good morning to him like you were meant to start the mornings in his arms just as naturally as you would breathe.

No. Vox couldn't care less about how worn out he was from the realization if he tried. Just like always, the second he saw your smile, everything else just washed away into background static. He cupped your face and said some sort of sassy quip about your bed head, to which you immediately started freaking out over.

He watched as you started to pat your hair down frantically and smiled softly. Oh yeah, he was fucking whipped.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #SORRY IF ITS MESSY #IM IN BED AND V TIRED #BUT SOMEONE WAS IN NEED OF FLUFF AND I AM PROVIDER IN THIS HOUSEHOLD

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souliebird · 1 year ago

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[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man.

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis.

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands.

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life.

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name.

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner.

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in.

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you.

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours.

It scares you so much it's not your choice.

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that.

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information.

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter.

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take?

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices.

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running.

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases.

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering.

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner?

"All done?"

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left.

You turn your head to follow her gaze.

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up.

The cameras don't do him justice.

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's.

The realization shakes your entire world.

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world.

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer.

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you."

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest.

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that.

Your throat gets tight again.

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat.

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment.

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it.

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office.

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father.

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office.

This isn't about you or your fears.

This is for Minnie.

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you.

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart.

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain.

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him.

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it.

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before.

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic.

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen.

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party."

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up.

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille."

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe.

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face.

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well.

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy.

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention.

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger.

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper.

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe.

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up.

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times.

Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you.

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

"She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good.

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him.

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying.

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there."

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes.

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me."

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan.

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea."

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?"

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting."

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?"

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes."

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office.

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?"

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to��I want to do this right."

"I do, too."

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie.

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over.

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice.

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?"

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you."

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please."

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect."

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man.

You really hope he's a good father too.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fanfiction #soulie writes

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izzabela · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request bi han x fem reader.

Reader is sent on a mission in Russia and bi han misses her,sektor tells him to get a phone so it'll be easy to communicate and y/n introduces him to phone sex and they have phone sex.

New Things - Bi Han x fem!reader

in which you introduce Bi Han to something new while away on a mission

a/n: Bi Han with a phone is a crazy idea- i like it

ship[s]: bi han x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI, porn with semi-plot, phone sex, f!reader = f!genitalia, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, post-kanon story

"He- Hel- Hello? Bi Han?" you voice called, breaking slightly over the phone.

Bi Han put the device close to his ear, your voice finally patching through his phone. He smiles, the only witnesses of this soft act being the walls of his bedroom. He coughs before answering you.

"I can hear you, darling," he responds. "How do you find Russia? Have you eaten yet? Is the mission going well?"

You chuckle at the onslaught of questions, "Cold, but not as cold as home, yes I ate already, and the mission is going decent."

Bi Han sighs, "Good, I am glad you are alright."

Bi Han originally didn't have a phone, hell he was opposed to such devices. He caved after you were gone for a mission a couple months back, and the letter he wrote you was intercepted by the enemy. It was also Sektor's idea, he even accompanied Bi Han in choosing one.

Now, here he was, talking to you over the phone while you were oceans away. Elder gods, what a sight to behold, the grandmaster using technology.

"And you, my dear, is there anything to note back home?" you ask. Bi Han groans as he relays the struggles you were missing out on.

From setbacks to the coding of the cyber-ninjas, to even more dreadful losses with this brotherly war, Bi Han was having a hard time dealing with these setbacks. It was uncharacteristic of him, since he's usually more calculated and put together.

"You sound stressed, my dear," you mention, twirling your hair as get in the bed of the hotel you were staying in. You hear Bi Han sigh over your end of the phone.

"You are greatly missed here, none more so than by me," Bi Han says softly, and you coo at the vulnerability he displayed.

"I also wish I were home," you respond solemnly. It's quiet over the line, the light breathing filling the silence.

That is, until a light bulb is lit in your mind. It's a little risky, but it isn't entirely a bad thing. Just to blow off some steam.

"Darling, would you like to relax?" you ask, but Bi Han is perplexed as he answers you.

"I am unwinding just fine with you on the phone."

You tut him, clicking your tongue as you clarify yourself. Apparently, subtly in words was not his strongest trait.

"Would you like try phone sex?" you blurt out. It's quiet on your end, Bi Han not saying a thing for a couple of beats.

"...What exactly is that?" he asks, his voice sounding lost and confused. You then explain that it would just be them on the phone, whispering dirty things about themselves as they touched themselves rather inappropriately.

TLDR, a horny way to unwind the stress of missing each other.

"I see," is all Bi Han says. "I do not know how to start, though."

You chuckle, "Remaining ever so honest, grandmaster. Do not be worried, though, I can lead us."

You strip down into nothing, putting your phone on speaker as you lay comfortably in your bed. Bi Han still remains in his sleepwear, but he can see that his member is growing erect as the minutes pass.

"For starters, it must feel rather lonely in bed without me," you begin, your voice a little breathy. Bi Han sighs, palming his growing erection as he responds.

"It is, it pains me that you are so far. I cannot hold nor touch you." Bi Han sets his phone down after indulging you, on speaker mode as well so he has... a better range of motion.

"I have only my thoughts to keep me company," you admit, slowly rolling your breasts in your hands.

"Do tell me what you think about when I am not present," Bi Han eggs you with a teasing voice.

"I, uh," you stutter. "I think of how you tease nipples. Your fingers always squeeze them the way I like." Bi Han groans a bit.

"Touch them as I do, then," he tells you, palming his rock-hard dick. "To let you know, I miss the way you stroke me, my dear."

Bi Han gave up on his pants and boxers. His dick was hard and free from its fabric prison, and he was going in constant strokes to mimic the way you did. Bi Han grunts as he touches himself, pumping his dick in his fist as he heard your breath over the phone.

If the wetness between your legs were relayed to a leaky pipe, you were practically bursting at this point. You moan at the though of his hand pumping his cock, trying to emulate your touch. It filled you with pride knowing you left such an impression on him.

You reach down in between your legs, rubbing the wet folds as you imagine your fingers as Bi Han's length. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips through and Bi Han catches your poor attempt of hiding your voice.

"Do not be shy, my darling," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Let me hear you. Touching yourself as you think of me, in and out of your tightness."

Bi Han was getting into it now. Still keeping his constant strokes, he imagines your body on top of him. Visages of your perky nips in his face, your voice bouncing off the walls of the shared room. He can imagine the marks on his back, a great side effect on how well he dicks you down.

For you, you stuck a finger in your wet cunt. Just like Bi Han, you pump the digit in and out of you at a good speed. It hits your good spot perfectly, and the moans you had been so desperate to hide come through and enter Bi Han's ear. He's smirking, and he pumps a little faster.

"Can you hear that? Though you are so far, you still manage to please me," Bi Han's voice is sultry and deep, praising you a job well done (so far).

"Are you this degenerate when you are away?" Bi Han's tone shifts, and it shocks you a little bit. "Touching yourself, desperate to relieve yourself- disgusting."

By the elder gods, he was really leaning into this phone sex business. As much as you want to deny it, you can't help but moan and agree with his degradation of you. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you touched yourself on those occasions where the longing was too much.

You stop yourself and add another finger inside yourself, curling it slightly to hit your g-spot even better. You moan louder, and Bi Han takes it as a sign to go faster in his fist. He's grunting a little louder, and through your ecstasy you can hear a couple of shaky exhales of his breath.

"By the gods, I can just imagine it," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Your fingers won't be enough, not when I have marked you, molded you... made you mine."

You gasp at how dirty his words have become. Gods, he was immersed, and your bodily response was to get even more wet. Practically soaking the sheets underneath you, you respond to the claims Bi Han was acclaiming.

"Yes grandmaster! You've molded me so well- I am yours wholly!"

As you keep pumping yourself, your hand that was previously on your tit is on your pleasuring yourself two-fold as you focus on reaching your high. Bi Han is huffing and puffing now, his hand going up and down as he also chases his peak.

"Very good. Keep the thought of my length as you come," Bi Han says. "Your warmth is all I can think about- I even squeeze my fist to think of how you squeeze around me."

The mention of it makes you squeeze around your fingers, and that was the last sensory necessity for you to zone in on cumming. The feeling of your fingers rubbing your clit, your other fingers going in and out of your tight cunt, and the gentle squeeze to give you more friction, it's sending you over the edge.

Bi Han has a gentle tightness around his cock. He's trying to imagine you squeezing around him, and it works as he can feel his high coming. The thoughts of your body bouncing up and down his cock, your moans ringing in his ears, and the little squelches he can hear from the speaker, send Bi Han into overdrive.

"B-Bi Han!" you cry out. "I- oh gods, I'm close!" Bi Han just grunts in response, muttering under his breath as he's about to peak.

"Bi Han!" you cry out, literally squeaking as your legs twitch and shake as your body begins to relax from your climax. You're breathless, hands damp with your slick, and your body dripping with sweat.

Bi Han also climaxes, calling your name as strings of translucent white coming out. They land on his lower stomach and thighs. His chest heaves up and down, yearning for air as he comes down from his high. He's sticky with sweat, extra sticky near his penile area, and his hand has a bit of his own slickness too.

He reaches for a tissue on his nightstand, and you do the same on the other side of the world. Over the phone, Bi Han can hear you shift on the bed, putting your clothes on and shuffling around the room to clean up. Bi Han is wrapping up his own clean-up operations, putting his clothes on before settling into bed.

"Bi Han darling?" you call for him through the phone. "Are you there?"

Bi Han grabs his phone, "Yes I am." It's a bit quiet before he speaks again. "Did you enjoy?"

You laugh heartily, "Of course! Who knew you were really good at this, my darling~" you drag out the "ing" sound, and he chuckles at your antics.

"Thank you for introducing this to me," he says, calling your name softly. Your face warms, and you can't tell if it's from the warmth of your phone.

"You're welcome, Bi Han. Perhaps we can do this again when I have more time," you offer.

"Finish up the mission, and we won't need to do this over the phone." That's all Bi Han says before he drops an "I love you" and hangs up.

The call drops, and you sleep with motivation to come home.

=====================

phone sex is... odd, but i did finish it. i hope you liked it anon!

still finishing up all my reqs, let's see if i can do it before school starts for me

see yall in the next fic!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 smut #bi han #bi han x you #bi han x reader #sub zero x you #sub zero x reader #mk sub zero #bi han sub zero

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sleepy-steve · 3 months ago

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@steddieangstyaugust 09/08 // upside down

wc: 2.6k // rating: M // cw: excessive description of injury/blood/wounds // tags: previous first kiss, canon divergence, post-s4, steve harrington whump, this man is so injured it’s crazy, so injured and so self-sacrificing

part two to day 8 but can be read alone ♡

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Steve drops down into the unfortunately familiar grey-blue atmosphere of the Upside Down. His feet hit the ground, and despite the bandana covering his nose and mouth, he feels the death and decay enter his lungs as he surveys his surroundings. It’s much worse than before. It’s heavier, like inhaling steam, but sits cold in his chest. A sign that he shouldn’t have returned. A reminder of how dangerous this was. The ground shakes with tremors as Steve pulls on the rope, testing its stability before tying it to the nearby destroyed remains of a trailer. In this state, he couldn’t be sure whose it was. The giant crack in the earth had all but destroyed the trailer park, but it was close enough to where they’d exited those days before, panicked and rushed, Dustin near inconsolable about having lost Eddie.

“Buddy, buddy, look at me,” Steve had said, grasping his shoulders. “We’ll come back for him, okay? I will come back for him.”

“No!” Dustin cried. “No, Steve! I can’t lose you too!”

Steve wouldn’t promise it, but he let the matter go at the time. He waited until after he’d been admitted to the hospital, receiving treatment for an infection in the bat bites. Bringing it back up once they’d all received medical attention only had several people yelling at him. He was warned, commanded, begged—repeatedly and earnestly—to not go back into the Upside Down. That it wasn’t safe. That he needed time to heal. That there would be no point. That Eddie was gone, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want Steve to risk his life going back in to find him.

“Steve, you’re literally in a hospital bed,” Nancy had said, her steely tone covering her concern. “You can’t be serious.”

“Listen, Harrington,” Hopper had sat beside him, voice stern. “You are not to go back there. Do you understand me? We can’t lose any more people.”

But Steve wouldn’t be swayed. And so he was alone. Searching the Upside Down for a man that was believed to be dead.

His flashlight swung in an arc, illuminating the destruction around him. Deep, cavernous fissures in the ground are lit up by the flashlight. Eddie couldn’t have gotten far, with how seriously he was injured. Once the earthquakes started, Dustin said he tried to drag his body out of the wreckage, but it was almost impossible. He took cover until the shaking ground settled enough for him to walk. When he went back, Eddie’s body was gone. Steve pulls debris aside, the movement tugging on his barely healed scars, searching areas that someone could hide in. The scar around his neck burns. Steve had to find him.

Mike, Will, and Eleven were looking for Dustin, after having visited Max, when they showed up at Steve’s hospital room. As Dustin readied to walk them out, Steve asked Eleven to stay back to ask her a question—earning some distinctive looks from the others—and once the boys were gone, handed her one of the Missing Person posters that Wayne Munson had hung up around the relief centre.

“Can you look for him?” Steve had asked, desperate at that point. “If he’s still… if he’s down there, will you know?”

Eleven gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. “If he is there, I can find him.”

He’d waited patiently—tried not to fidget, to keep quiet—while she put a blindfold on, the small radio Dustin had brought to Steve set to static. The seconds ticked into minutes as Steve watched intently, waiting for an answer.

“I see him,” she finally said. “He’s… hurt. Lost.”

Steve’s heart was in his throat. “Is he… alive?”

Eleven nodded. “Alive,” she confirmed.

Feeling like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, Steve’s hands went to his hair. He’d hoped, god, he’d prayed, that it was true. That they hadn’t lost Eddie. But that meant he’d been stuck down there for almost a week now.

“D’you—can you see where he is?” Steve asked.

She was still for several moments, mouth pulled into a frown, before she shook her head. Trying not to be disappointed, he focused on the important part. Eddie was alive. For now, at least. But he had to work fast.

“Okay, uh, listen,” Steve said. “Can you please, uh, not tell anyone else? That you know this.”

When she pulled her blindfold off, she gave him a look that was far too knowing. “Friends don’t lie, Steve.”

“I’m not asking you to lie,” He quickly clarified. “But this is to keep everyone else safe. If the others find out that he’s alive, they’ll try to go back in to find him.” He takes a breath. “It has to be me, no one else.”

“Steve, it is not safe there.” Eleven looked over him. “You are still sick. It will get worse.”

“I know, kid,” Steve sighed. “But I have to save him.”

In the end, Steve convinced her to promise to keep it to herself—unless someone asked directly, and unless he hadn’t returned within six hours of going back—with the added compromise that he would tell Robin where he was going. He checked himself out of the hospital that afternoon, signing multiple forms that indicated he knew he was going against medical advice.

Telling Robin of his plan was never in question. He couldn’t lie to her. Sitting her down at his house, he asked her to please not tell anyone, to only involve anyone else if he hadn’t returned in six hours, as he promised Eleven. Robin begged him not to go through with it, reaching an almost panicked state as she tried to convince him to stay. He can still hear her tearful voice in his mind, looping over and over, a reminder of what he’s sacrificing.

“Steve, please, you can’t do this, at least not without someone to help you!” She’d held onto his arm, stopping him from loading items into a backpack.

Steve turned to her. “I’m not going to drag anyone else into this with me, Robin. This is my decision. Everyone’s already made it clear they don’t think it’s a good idea. I gotta go alone.”

“At least let me come with you!” Robin tried, following him as he searched for a flashlight. “At least you wouldn’t be alone.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “I can’t let you do that for me. It’s too dangerous.”

Robin shrugged him off, tone growing angry. “So what are you doing then?! Going alone when it’s too dangerous for me to come with you? You’re not even fully healed yet, Steve! You could die down there!”

“I have to try, Rob,” Steve sighed. “I have to. He’s trapped down there.”

“We could organise a rescue, just don’t do this alone!” Robin yelled, reaching the end of her patience.

He took her hands in his. “No one else needs to put themselves in danger. Hopper was right, we can’t lose any more people, but I can’t just leave him down there. I can’t, Robin.”

Steve knew Robin would understand, at least, why he needed to do this. The kiss. The one that haunts him. The one he and Eddie shared behind the RV, right before they marched back into hell and they lost him. Robin knew—more than anyone—what Steve would do, that his mind wouldn’t be changed. Not for something like this. Because Steve was self-sacrificing to the point of harm for anyone important to him. And this was bigger. There was more at stake—she could tell by the way he spoke about it, with how serious his tone was. She cried and held him tight, finally demanding that he come back at the first sign of danger, and promising him that they could regroup and try again. Just as long as he came back.

Heart aching as the conversation replayed in his mind, Steve shook himself. He needed to focus. The increasing pain of his scars was distracting enough, and he couldn’t afford to lose time. Already having searched for what felt like hours, Steve’s strength was starting to waver. The crimson storm clouds rolled overhead. The weight of his emotions—the guilt, the wish that he’d handled things differently—was starting to feel impossible to carry.

It ate him alive, the way it all went down. The connection between them had been undeniable, Steve constantly finding himself drawn to Eddie, and Eddie endlessly getting back up in his space. It all culminated in a shared moment that turned into a timid kiss, which quickly turned desperate and heavy. It all became too much, too fast, too real—

Steve had panicked and asked him to stop, but it just came out wrong, and Eddie wouldn’t hear him out. He’d wanted to keep going, god, he’d never been kissed like that. Not with so much heat and desire and need. But he also didn’t want it to just be that. He felt something between them that was magnetic and electric and set his heart ablaze in a way he hadn’t felt before. He just couldn’t get the words out. Left speechless by the feeling of Eddie’s tongue in his mouth and his body pressed up against him. He wished he’d just been able to verbalise what he felt. I don’t want this to be meaningless. I’m not just trying to get a quick lay at the end of the world. I think this could be something special. I want it to be.

If only his mouth had cooperated with him. But Eddie had misunderstood his faltering for rejection, and ran away… And they had more important issues to deal with. Despite wanting to approach, to explain himself and set the record straight, Steve knew it would have to wait. Except Eddie had done the very thing Steve told him not to do. Ran right into danger, played the hero, and sacrificed himself. Yes, it meant Dustin was saved, and for that, Steve would always be grateful. But Eddie was gone—lost.

Lost but alive. This is the thought that keeps him moving. Keeps him searching despite his body screaming in agony. Some of the wounds feel open, the sickly cold seeping under the bandages and mingling with his blood. His back burns and aches—the abrasions from being dragged on the ground, dry and splitting—the pain of it sinking deep into his muscles. Making it harder for him to move. Every breath is laborious, he feels like he’s drowning. Steve pulls down the bandana, coughing heavily. The strange particles in the air get sucked into his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. The wounds around his stomach bite into him, feeling worse than when he arrived at the hospital, where infection was starting to take hold. He can’t give up.

Every second feels precarious. Steve hasn’t heard the chittering or hissing of any creatures down here, thankfully, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. The atmosphere alone is dangerous enough. Like the Upside Down was rejecting his presence, and the longer he stays, the more it tries to destroy him. How could Eddie be alive in this place?

It’s been hours now. The flashlight illuminates another chasm in the ground, reminding him of how unachievable his task is. Steve drops his backpack to the ground and leans against a more solid looking destroyed trailer, the back of his head hitting it as he looks to the red-clouded sky. His legs ache from walking. Daring to look down, he notices dark spots starting to stain his shirt. He swallows heavily, mouth dry, the taste of rot on his tongue. A wave of nausea rolls over him. He wills it down, knowing that if he vomited now, the pain in his wounds would only grow, and he’s not sure he can handle that.

Dread starts to seep in, and for the first time since he arrived back here, Steve starts to think that maybe he can’t do this. Maybe he can’t rescue Eddie. Not on his own. Not in his current state. Even if he found Eddie now, how would he be able to help? He can barely support his own weight right now.

Steve slides down the side of the trailer, hissing in pain as it drags against the scars on his back. The ground trembles beneath him. Another reminder of the impossibility of what he’s trying to do. He checks his watch. Three hours since he left, half of his time is already up.

“Fuck…” Steve breathes, trying to keep his cool. He could do this. He had to do this. He reaches into the backpack, pulling out a bottle of water. The plastic cracks as he twists the lid off. The water does little to ease his nausea. It’s with his eyes closed, praying for some strength to return, when he hears it.

A… gasp?

Steve’s head turns sharply toward the echoing sound. He drops the water bottle back into his bag, pulling out his nail bat and scrambling to his feet. The sound comes again from his right. He steps slowly, bat raised. His heart hammers in his chest. Following the sound, pain temporarily forgotten, Steve makes his way carefully around the destroyed trailer, avoiding debris.

The sound gets louder. Steve approaches a chasm in the earth, two half destroyed trailers on either side. Shattered glass and half melted metal litter the ground. With the bat in his hands, the flashlight is tucked under his arm, shakily brightening the space ahead of him. He leans over the edge, feet planted wide, and looks down into the darkness. It’s shallower than he thought, cracked with blocks of earth jutting out of the walls.

With no immediate danger in his eyeline, he lowers the bat and aims the flashlight down into the cavern. As the light shines over, he sees dark splatters over the rocks, and Steve hopes it’s not blood. He looks lower, brows pulling together as he follows the splatters deeper into the rift. He hears what sounds like a rattling inhale, head snapping up, a few feet ahead of where he currently stands. Taking a couple tentative steps, he scans the depths carefully, searching for the source of the sound.

The splatters are larger, darker, decorating the earth as he follows the light. An odd shape catches his eye, and he directs the flashlight at it. Steve squints, trying to make out the object, as the light barely illuminates that far down. It takes a moment before he recognises the familiar pair of boots, anything else hidden by another overhanging piece of earth.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, shoving the flashlight between his teeth, and sliding down the edge of the chasm. He shakily drops to a set of rocks a little ways down, looking for a safe enough spot to move down again. Leaning against the rough walls, he shifts another step lower, pain in his back and sides screaming at him. It’s a precarious descent, but he manages to reach the bottom. Steve shines the flashlight ahead, brightening the space. When his eyes adjust, he takes a few cautious steps before dropping to his knees, bat falling to the ground with an echoing clunk.

Eddie lays on his side. He’s covered in dried blood, clothes torn, curled defensively with his knees up to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. Unable to see any sign of movement, Steve’s chest tightens, fearing the worst. Was he too late?

He reaches out with a trembling hand. “Eddie?” he breathes.

Eddie jolts, eyes snapping open, taking in a deep, rasping breath. His breathing settles. He focuses on the man above him. “…Steve?”

#oooo to be continued!!!#FINALLY got this one done omg #i just had a really busy weekend and i wanted to spend time with this now that it's become a continuation #went full whump mode for this one #and that will probably continue into the next part too :~)#cira writes #cira writes steddieangstyaugust #steddieangstyaugust #freaky friday #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic

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gingersnap-17 · 4 months ago

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Life After War (Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader)

Authors Note: Hi everyone! I am so sorry it has been such a long time! I recently got married, and me and my husband have been working full time, so I have not really had any time to write! But, my goal is to write at least one to two stories per week! I know I usually write JJK stuff, but today I am going to write a short story around the Attack on Titan world!

Summary: After the battle of Heaven and Earth, Levi has been having a hard time adjusting to life. But, thanks to Y/N, post war life has been easier.

Word Count: 1276

In the aftermath of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, the world had changed drastically. The titans were gone, and the remnants of humanity began to rebuild their lives in a world free from the fear that had oppressed them for so long. However, for Levi Ackerman, the struggle was far from over. The battle had left him with severe injuries, both visible and hidden deep within his soul.

Levi’s body was a testament to the brutality of war. His once agile and powerful frame was now marred with scars and stiffened by the lingering pain of his wounds. His right hand, a vital tool for his blade work, was damaged beyond repair. The bandages that covered his injuries were a constant reminder of his limitations, a bitter pill for someone who had always relied on his physical prowess. The stoic captain found himself in an unfamiliar place: vulnerable and dependent.

Levi spent most of his days in a small, modest apartment in a city that was untouched by the rumbling, far from the small island he once called home. The apartment was a gift from Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. A place where he could find solace and recover at his own pace. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Levi was restless. He felt caged by his injuries, haunted by the faces of those he had lost, and burdened by a future that seemed uncertain.

Luckily though, Levi still had you in his life. Out of all the friends and comrades he has had over the years, you were the one who managed to survive and stick by his side. The two of you had been in a romantic relationship only two months after the discovery of the Ocean and lands beyond Paridis.

Despite the tranquil setting, Levi's restlessness was palpable. Each day, the battle replayed in his mind, a relentless loop of bloodshed and loss. The faces of fallen comrades haunted him, their sacrifices etched deeply into his memory. He often found himself staring at the bandages on his hand, a grim reminder of his altered reality.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, you entered the apartment. You had been out getting some groceries, hoping to lift Levi’s spirits with some of his favorite foods and of course his favorite tea. The moment you walked in, you could sense his unease. His eyes, though still sharp, held a distant look, as if he were lost in a world of his own making.

"Levi," you called softly, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. "I brought some tea. Thought it might help you relax."

He turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "You always know what I need."

You approached him, taking a seat beside him on the small sofa. "How are you feeling today?" you asked, gently placing your hand on his.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "It's...difficult," he admitted. "Being like this, unable to do the things I used to...it’s frustrating."

You only nod your head, standing up to prepare some tea for him. Over the years, you learned how to make tea to his liking. “I know how this has been hard on you, but you have my love and support, and the love and support of other people who care deeply for you.”

Levi watched as you prepared the tea, the familiar routine providing a small measure of comfort. He appreciated your unwavering support, though he struggled to express it in words. As you handed him the steaming cup, he took it gratefully, savoring the aroma.

"Thank you," he said again, this time with a bit more strength. "I don't say it enough, but I’m grateful for you every day."

You smiled warmly, giving him a kiss before sitting back down beside him. "And I'm grateful for you too. We'll find a way to move forward together. It has been hard and it has taken some time, but we are all figuring out this new life."

He only gave a quiet nod in response, which was something you had expected and grown quite used to over the years. The rest of the evening, the two of you sat together in the peace of your apartment, sharing positive memories of life before the war.

—————————————————————————

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Levi began to find solace in the small, simple pleasures of life. One day, while you were out for a walk together, Levi stopped in front of a quaint, abandoned shop. The building was worn and dusty, but it had a certain charm to it.

"This place," Levi said, looking at it with a contemplative expression. "It could be something...something good."

You held onto his arm to help support him as you followed his gaze, seeing the potential in the old shop. "What do you have in mind?" you asked, already having an idea of what he was thinking. This was something he would bring up quite often when you first started your relationship.

"A tea shop," he replied. "A place where people can come and find a moment of peace. I’ve always found comfort in tea...maybe others will too."

You smiled, making a mental note to yourself that you just knew what he was going to say. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Levi. We can make it happen."

With determination set on making this space something new, the two of you set to work on transforming the old shop. It was a labor of love, one that brought you both closer together. Levi, despite his injuries, poured his heart into the project. You handled the heavy lifting and intricate tasks, while Levi directed and contributed with his keen eye for detail.

The shop slowly came to life, the walls adorned with simple, elegant decorations and shelves lined with a variety of teas. Levi's favorite blends were prominently displayed, along with some new ones you had discovered together. The space was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the changed world outside.

“In all honesty, I think this place is going to be pretty popular.” You said, putting some books on a bookshelf to give the tea shop more character.

Levi was currently organizing the stock of teas, agreeing to what you had said. “I only hope it does. We spent a lot of our money on this place.”

You smile, heading over to Levi as you gently rubbed his shoulders. “Trust me, everyone will love it here. Besides, this is the first tea shop in town, so I’d expect people to be drawn into our place.” You knelt down next to where Levi was, helping him get a proper stock of each blend. “….What if once a month we can do story time and have the children in this town come with their parents? You could read to them!”

Levi looked at you, giving an unamused look. “I don’t know about that. Kids just pick their nose and make things all dirty.”

You fondly roll your eyes, knowing that your stubborn lover will eventually come around to the idea. “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————

On the day of the grand opening, a small crowd gathered outside the shop. Among them were Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon, their faces beaming with pride and excitement. As Levi and you stood at the entrance, ready to welcome the first customers, he took your hand in his, a rare but cherished gesture of affection he made in public.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking into your eyes. "For believing in me, and for helping me find a new purpose."

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love and admiration. "Always, Levi. This is just the beginning."

The doors opened, and people began to fill the shop, their faces lighting up as they took in the serene atmosphere. Levi moved among them with a quiet grace, offering recommendations and sharing stories behind the different teas. You watched him, seeing the man you loved finding joy in bringing comfort to others.

The tea shop quickly became a beloved fixture in the community. It was a place where people could escape the chaos of the world and find a moment of peace. Levi's reputation as a skilled and compassionate host grew, and so did the bonds he formed with the people who visited.

As the sun set on the shop’s first day, you and Levi sat together, sipping tea and reflecting on the journey that had brought you here. The future still held uncertainties, but you faced them together.

In the aftermath of the battle, the world had indeed changed drastically. But amid the ruins, you and Levi had built something beautiful—something that honored the past while embracing the future. And in that small tea shop, you found a haven where love, resilience, and the simple pleasure of a well-brewed cup of tea could heal even the deepest wounds.

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munchmemes · 1 year ago

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hozier lyrics, unreal unearth edition

❛ your reflection can't offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. ❜ ❛ no closer could i be to god or why he would do what he's done. ❜ ❛ what you live in, it finds a way to live in you. ❜ ❛ your heart has such darkness. ❜ ❛ i wanna be gone. i wanna run so far, i'd beat the morning. ❜ ❛ before the dawn has come, i'd block the sun if you want it done. ❜ ❛ let all time slow. let all light go. ❜ ❛ i don't need to know where we begin and end. ❜ ❛ i'd still know you, not being shown you. ❜ ❛ the first time that you kissed me, i drank dry the river lethe. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same. ❜ ❛ some part of me must have died the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ these days, i think, i owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. ain't that like them? gifting life to you again. ❜ ❛ oh, to share the space with simple living things infinitely suffering but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself ... but anyway. ❜ ❛ some part of me stayed alive each time that you called. ❜ ❛ whatever keeps you around, it keeps you around. ❜ ❛ when i was young i used to guess, are there limits to any emptiness? ❜ ❛ how could you think i'd scare so easily? ❜ ❛ my life was a storm since i was born. how could i fear any hurricane? ❜ ❛ i would do it again if i could hold you for a minute. ❜ ❛ what good would it be on the far side of things? ❜ ❛ i would not change it each time. ❜ ❛ heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i. ❜ ❛ i feel lighter than i have in so much time. ❜ ❛ how could i fall when i am lifted by every word you say to me? ❜ ❛ if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me. ❜ ❛ if you need to, lean your weight to me. ❜ ❛ if we fall, i only pray, don't fall away from me. ❜ ❛ i'm starving, darling. let me put my lips to something. ❜ ❛ you can't buy this fineness. ❜ ❛ we can celebrate the good that we've done. ❜

❛ we had nowhere to go and every desire for going there. ❜ ❛ i heard once, it's the comforts that make us feel numb. ❜ ❛ it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in. ❜ ❛ i haven't felt it since then. i don't know how the feeling ended. ❜ ❛ i know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done. ❜ ❛ we knew what our love was worth when we had nothing. ❜ ❛ i miss when we did not need much. ❜ ❛ you were steering my heart like a wheel in your hands. ❜ ❛ all i needed was someone when the whole wide world felt young. ❜ ❛ hold me like water or hold me like a knife. ❜ ❛ you and i burned out our steam chasing someone else's dream. ❜ ❛ how can something be so much heavier but so much less than what it seems? ❜ ❛ you only feel it when it's lost. getting through still has its cost. ❜ ❛ if there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right. ❜ ❛ we didn't get it right but we did our best. ❜ ❛ knowing that everything will end should not change our plans. ❜ ❛ all things end. ❜ ❛ there are some things that no one teaches you that come natural as a dream you didn't know that you were in. ❜ ❛ the awful things we do to make the head go quiet. ❜ ❛ you may never know your fortune until the distance has been shown between what is lost forever and what can still be known. ❜ ❛ i don't wanna be anything but i would do anything just to run away. ❜ ❛ go look another way. ❜ ❛ look, i wanna be loud. so loud, i'm talking seismic. ❜ ❛ i will not be great but i'm grateful to get through. ❜ ❛ the memory hurts but does me no harm. ❜ ❛ the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you. ❜ ❛ there's a part of me, i'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life. ❜ ❛ you know, the distance never made a difference to me. ❜ ❛ so, i thought you were like an angel to me. ❜ ❛ it ain't the being alone. it ain't the empty home. you know i'm good on my own. ❜ ❛ so much of the living is the being unknown. ❜ ❛ do you know i could break beneath the weight of the goodness i still carry for you? ❜ ❛ there are some people who are better unknown. ❜ ❛ darkness always finds you either way. ❜ ❛ after this, i'm never gonna be the same and i am never going back again. ❜

#lyrics rp starters #rp starters #rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #lyrics rp meme

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fanfoolishness · 7 months ago

Text

the waves flowing, the dawn blooming

Hunter and Crosshair have a heart-to-heart, after their girl takes wing. Set directly after the epilogue, stuffed full of soft Dad Batch feels, lots of healing, and Hunter and Crosshair being close again <3. I cried all through the back half, sorry not sorry. ~1900 words.

Beach-crickets shivered the last of their evening songs as Hunter and Batcher wended their way back to Lower Pabu. The house wasn’t far from the cove, and a brisk walk would have done it in ten minutes, but they took their time. Batcher was eager to follow her favorite smells along the beach, and Hunter waited patiently for her. His back and knees had warmed up with the walk, but there was plenty to think about.

Their kid was gone.

He didn’t know what to call this feeling in his chest: a deep and full-bodied sorrow, mingled with the fierce pride he always felt every time he looked at Omega, tangled with joy and worry and the longing for more time. He grappled with it as they followed the familiar path back to their little home, as the stars shimmered among the slowly lightening sky.

Batcher whuffed softly as they approached the gate. Light from the kitchen glowed gently through the side window, and Hunter smiled, catching a faint scent of caf. Batcher scampered up to the door, morning stiffness long forgotten, and trotted inside as it opened. Hunter followed, slipping off his boots and heading to the kitchen.

“I wondered when you’d be back,” said Crosshair, raising his eyebrows at Hunter. He sat at the kitchen table with a pitcher of caf and two mugs. One steamed merrily before him, and he cradled it in his left hand to take a sip. He never wore his prosthetic first thing in the morning.

“Well… she’s off.” Hunter drew up a chair and sat down at the table.

A small smile creased Crosshair’s face. “You caught her?”

“You knew?” he asked. “Ahhh, of course you did.” He waved an annoyed hand at his little brother.

“Said her goodbyes to Wrecker and me last night. Swore us to secrecy.” Crosshair shrugged, taking a sip of his caf. “I can’t say no to her. Never could.”

Hunter chuckled. He remembered a time, long ago, that that hadn’t been the case; it felt like another lifetime. “She let me catch her. She acted like I’d found her out, but she could have hidden her tracks if she’d wanted.” He sighed. “I know I was hard on her.”

”You’ve always protected her. She knows that’s all it was. Though she did complain about it.” Crosshair smirked, wearing the same punchable little half-grin he’d perfected in their brief cadet years. “‘Doesn’t he know I’m not a kid anymore?’”

Hunter groaned, rubbing his face. He reached for the pot of caf and poured himself a cup. “I deserve that.”

”Mm-hm.”

He took a sip of caf. It was bracing, strong, just how Crosshair always brewed it. He savored it, letting it swirl over his tongue, so much richer and fuller than the stim drinks they used to have in their rations. He closed his eyes, lost in thought.

The war had never ended. It just took on a new name.

This is my fight, Hunter.

Why did she have to have one, when she’d already fought so hard? Didn’t she deserve the peace they’d won so dearly?

”Are you all right?” Crosshair said in a quiet voice, breaking his reverie.

Hunter blinked, glancing over at his brother. Crosshair regarded him with that cool, observant gaze, the weight of it familiar and steady.

It was the same look he used to give him in the Marauder on missions during the Clone Wars; but the face giving it was older, softer. Crosshair’s narrow cheeks had filled in somewhat with the years, rounding the sharp angles he’d once carried. His gray hair had grown out and gone fully white, curling gently at his forehead and the nape of his neck, except at the old scar at his temple where it had never regrown. His short white beard held a hint of the same curl.

You can wear it how you like, you know. We’re defective. Nobody cares as long as we complete the mission.

Grow it long like yours? I don’t think so. These blasted curls are a nightmare. Give me that trimmer, I don’t know how you stand it.

It’s the headband, obviously.

Sure it isn’t cutting off circulation to your brain?

Hunter stifled a laugh. They’d been so young. Things had changed so much since those days, and Crosshair was different now… yet still the same as ever.

They all were, he supposed.

“Just feeling thoughtful,” Hunter said. He sighed. “I don't know where the time went.”

“We’re clones. We never had very much of it to begin with.” Crosshair’s eyes softened. “Tech should have had more.”

Hunter nodded slowly. “He should have.”

He thought of Tech’s goggles, safely stowed on Omega’s little ship, where she could see them with every pitched turn or hyperspace leap. It was the right place for them, a testament to all he’d taught her. His breath caught in his throat.

“She told me this was her fight,” Hunter said. “But she shouldn’t have to have one. Not again.” Tantiss was a victory -- and a cruelty -- that should have been enough for one lifetime. It tore at him, thinking of her taking on another brutal fight, one with no guarantee of victory. They hadn’t been blind, these years on Pabu; he knew what she was up against. He rubbed at his chest, taking a deep breath.

Crosshair poured himself another cup of caf. “It’s not the galaxy we live in, Hunter. It never has been.”

”When did you get so wise?”

Crosshair ducked his head in one of his rare guffaws, the laugh echoing sharply in the kitchen. “That’s not wisdom. That’s just living.”

”I’m not sure the two aren’t the same.” Hunter took another drink of his caf, but it had cooled significantly. How long had he been musing?

“You’re worried about her.”

”And you aren’t?” Hunter asked skeptically.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow. “Of course I am.” He gazed down into his mug, tracing his thumb over the top of the cup. He rubbed thoughtfully at the side of his face with his stump. “Of course I am,” he said again. “But — I trust her, Hunter. If she has to do this, I have to let her.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright. He blinked rapidly.

Hunter reached out, taking him by the shoulder and nodding. For a moment, it was hard for either of them to speak.

Crosshair cleared his throat, and Hunter let his hand fall. Crosshair tilted his head towards the back door. “Maybe you should join us.”

”You and Batcher?” Hunter asked. He did, sometimes. When memories of Eriadu, Kamino, Tantiss crept in; when his senses jangled, when it was hard to sleep or think. It wasn’t often that he needed it, but it did help, he’d had to admit. And he’d seen the changes meditation had wrought in Crosshair through the years, a calm held deep within, so different from the twisted guilt and painful memories that had once defined him.

“An open invitation,” said Crosshair. He swallowed, and Hunter could tell he was thinking of Omega, sunny and centered, always happy to join him when she wasn’t sleeping in or off with friends.

”All right, then,” Hunter agreed. “If there’s room on that patio for another old man.”

”Who are you calling old?” Crosshair snarked, getting to his feet with an audible creak. Now it was Hunter’s turn for a sharp, short laugh.

”Both of us, brother,” Hunter said fondly.

They shuffled out to the back patio, Batcher at Crosshair’s heels. She curled up in her comfy bed on the patio, knowing the routine. Crosshair pulled out the stack of pillows piled against the side of the house, tossing two down. The ground had somehow gotten a lot harder in recent years than it used to be, and the pillows helped.

They settled down beside each other, their folded knees brushing. The dawn was rising, blushes of faint pink and orange and gold nipping at the edges of the deep inky blue. The beach-crickets had quieted their songs, only to be replaced by the sweet tittering music of the saltbush sparrows and the sandcatchers and the buzzing starthroats.

Hunter gazed out at the lightening sky, eyes straining as if to catch the glimmer of a ship’s lights. But there was nothing out there besides the glow of pre-dawn, no lights making their way home. Omega was gone, and he knew she’d had to go, knew she had to follow what was right just as she always had, and he hung his head, his breath stuttering.

What were they going to do without her? Her laughter echoing through the house with Wrecker’s booming joy, her tinkering with Gonky or parts from her little ship at the kitchen table so like what Tech used to do, her wicked banter and her kind understanding with Crosshair --

The soft, trusting way she’d look up at him, when she was small?

Cut had tried to warn him, once. Tried to tell him what it meant to love a child, to give everything for them, to do what was best for them even when it was so, so hard. Hunter had thought he’d be able to figure it out. Turned out he’d had no idea.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to master his breath, and looked out at the sea. The dawn was in full bloom now, gold lining the flowers along their patio and glittering in the suncatcher standing at the east boundary. Hunter relaxed as the light danced around him, reflecting off the mirrors twirling slowly in the morning breeze. He remembered when Crosshair had shyly shown him what he’d made, his old mirror pucks strung together with shells and colorful stones, shimmering beacons of art instead of cold devices of war.

He glanced at Crosshair out of the corners of his eyes. His brother sat with his eyes closed, head slightly bowed, his hand and his stump resting atop his knees. The lines in his face had softened, his expression calm, grounded. Peaceful. His breath flowed in Hunter’s ears like waves on the shore, in and out, in… and out.

Tears pricked his eyes again, and Hunter smiled, nodded, bowed his head, and let his eyes fall closed.

His brother was right. If she has to do this, I have to let her.

He knew it, as much as he knew anything.

She knows what to do. Of course she did; they’d taught her, hadn’t they, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, all of them. She’d come through floods and fire, destruction and capture and all-out war, and she’d never stopped hoping, never given up, never stopped loving all of them through everything. Part of them would always be with her in the emblems on her jacket, in her treasured Lula-doll, in Tech’s goggles, in Hunter’s old headband. And after that, she’d have the memories, long after they’d breathed their last and gone to join their brother.

Tears dampened his face, but he didn’t mind: a small price to pay for a love this fierce and good. He breathed in, and breathed out, his breath matching Crosshair’s, melding with the sounds of the waves below.

She’d be brave, just like they’d taught her, just like she’d always been.

He hoped the galaxy was ready for her.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch finale #tbb spoilers #hunter bad batch #crosshair bad batch #omega bad batch #the dad batch #my batcher fic #seriously tears just dripping down my face writing this #not in a sad angsty hurty way #but in a soft my heart a splode way #hope y'all like it <3

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babygirlbenji · 2 months ago

Text

Daylight - Ben Chilwell

A/N: phewwwww this one's a big one!!!!! this is definitely going to be a series and i can't wait to get the next one written

Wordcount: 3.1k (she a big gorl)

If there was one thing in life that you could be certain of, it would be that you loved your routine. Doing shift work probably wasn’t what most people would associate with a routine, but your shifts were regular enough that you had your own little routine that you went through every week.

You woke up. You went to work. You worked out. You went home. You made dinner. You lounged in bed watching Below Deck or Selling Sunset or some other variation of trashy yet entertaining TV. You showered. You scrolled on TikTok (and sent a few funny videos to your friends). You went to bed. Repeat the next day.

You would insert a little day trip somewhere or a meet up with friends when applicable, but for the most part, you had your routine and you stuck with it.

All of that changed, however, when a certain footballer made his way into your life.

It was a Thursday. You remember it was a Thursday, because your favourite regular wasn’t in - she didn’t come in on Thursdays as she volunteered at a food bank every week. So you mooched around, made small talk with colleagues and made your little coffees, trying to improve your latte art. So far, you’d managed a heart, a flower, and some sort of questionable circular formation of foam that you swore looked like a dog if you looked at it the right way while squinting. Your colleague, Kendall, who was probably your closest friend at the coffee shop, was laughing when the aforementioned footballer strode his way into the coffee shop.

You noticed straightaway that he was new. Your coffee shop was small, boutique and tucked away in a corner of Cobham you really had to look for it. The majority of customers came from word of mouth, having been recommended a panini or muffin by a friend. It was no Starbucks or Costa, but all your colleagues swore that it was the best coffee in town (you couldn’t really tell, as you didn’t drink coffee). The second thing you noticed was that he was cute. Oh, god was he cute. He had a bit of scruff around his chin that made its way down a bit of his neck, rosy cheeks that suggested he’d been out for a run, and when he made eye contact with you, you saw the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. You tried to ignore the way your heart thudded when you saw him.

‘Uh, hi,’ the young man started. ‘What’s the best thing on the menu here? A mate recommended this shop to me, said the paninis were the best he’s ever had.’ You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish, struggling for words. Kendall had mysteriously disappeared to the back room, leaving you on the till by yourself.

‘Um, probably the mozzarella and tomato panini. I have it most days on my break, so it’s probably lost a bit of the novelty for me. It’s good, though.’ He sauntered over to the display cabinet to have a look at the goods on offer. You tried not to stare at him, but you couldn’t help but feel like you recognised him from somewhere.

‘I will try one of those, please. Oh, and an Americano with hot milk, please.’ You nodded and rang his order up on the till. He tapped his card on the card reader, which beeped to signify that the payment had gone through.

Your eyes travelled down to his clothes, and you noticed a familiar logo. Now, you didn’t necessarily follow football, but most of the guys you worked with supported Chelsea Football Club (kind of a necessity, given the training grounds were just a mile or so away from the small town), and you’d seen the logo dozens of times on the water bottles or coffee flasks they brought in.

‘No worries, I’ll get those started for you.’ And so, your routine of getting the food started. The coffee machine whirred in the background, while the steam wand sputtered into life to heat up the milk.

‘It’s a nice place, how long have you worked here?’ The man’s question took you by surprise. You tried not to let it show as you answered.

‘About three years now. This job was initially to get me through uni, but I enjoy it and it’s easy, so I guess I just haven’t left.’ You put his panini into a takeaway box and passed him the cardboard coffee cup. ‘Oh, here’s a cup holder as it’s hot, don’t want you burning yourself.’ You nestled the coffee cup into the holder, before passing him a couple of napkins to take away with him.

‘Thanks. What did you study at uni?’

‘I studied English literature with communications, ideally wanted to go into journalism or something but the job market is awful right now. I barely make enough to live on my own but I like the independence. Are you local?’ If his question took you by surprise, yours to him definitely did. His eyebrows raised, before he seemed to check himself and recovered.

‘Oh, I grew up in Milton Keynes and worked up in Leicester for a bit. Moved down here a few years ago and love it.’ Your head nodded towards his jacket with the Chelsea logo.

‘Working for the football club, I take it?’ He smiled bashfully.

‘Actually I’m a player for the first team. Got a game this weekend, but I’m likely on the bench so I don’t need to take the diet too seriously.’ Your jaw dropped. You knew you’d seen him somewhere. ‘My name’s Ben, by the way, Ben Chilwell. What’s yours?’

‘Y/N. Great to meet you, Ben, be sure to come back soon, and good luck for the game.’ He paused in the middle of putting his backpack on, and looked you straight in the eye.

‘Oh believe me, Y/N, I’ll definitely be coming back.’ And with that, he smiled at you before strolling out of the coffee shop. You were momentarily frozen; did he mean coming back to have another coffee? Or to try another panini? What on earth just happened?

‘Girl, you have to tell me what just happened between you and that cute footballer.’ Kendall’s voice made you jump, as she reappeared from the back room.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ you responded, pretending to wipe the coffee machine steam wand. You didn’t want to believe it, but you secretly hoped that he meant he was coming back to see you.

‘It’s supposed to mean that the chemistry between you two was comparable to the chemistry between Glen Powell and Zoey Deutch in Set It Up. He didn’t take a single bite of his panini so he had no idea how good it was, and he ordered the most basic coffee on the menu. And, he didn’t take his eyes off you for more than a second while you were making the coffee. Furthermore, he made small talk with you. He is mega into you, trust me.’

‘I make small talk with baristas and waitresses all the time! I bet he was just being friendly.’ You and Kendall went back and forth a bit more, and then the lunch rush hit, so you couldn’t really talk again. As you closed up the shop and drove home, though, you couldn’t help but think… maybe Kendall was right?

----

The next couple of weeks came and went. Ben came in every now and then, and the two of you made further small talk and got to know each other more and more. You’d taken the time the day you met him to stalk his Instagram profile. He was Chelsea’s vice-captain, loved dogs, family seemed important to him and he seemed to be incredibly valued by his teammates.

September turned to October. The leaves fell, the temperature dropped and the nights were rapidly drawing in. Pumpkin spice was back on the menu, which prompted a daily rush from the students in the area in the morning and mid-afternoon.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you always looked at the door when the bell dinged to notify you that someone had entered the shop. You’d finally admitted to yourself that in between you and Ben’s getting to know each other, you had developed a little bit of a crush on him. His coffee was more often than not ‘on the house’, and you took a bit more time than needed to prep and make his panini. He’d now gone through most of the options of the paninis, but he regularly returned to the mozzarella and tomato panini that you’d recommended - ‘it really is as good as you said’, he’d said on one occasion.

You opened up to each other about life, your stories, what brought him to Cobham, what countries you wanted to visit, his dream dog (‘I love Oscar, but I would love a Bernese mountain dog’), and all manner of other things. Kendall was sure that he liked you, but it had been nearly two months since he first came in, and he hadn’t made the move to ask you out or even ask for your number.

You stuck to your routine. Work, gym, dinner, shower, bed. It hadn’t wronged you once, and you were definitely starting to see the results of your gym sessions.

One morning, a particularly cold and windy November morning, you locked your car in the car park and walked briskly towards the coffee shop. Before you could reach it, however, a voice calling your name made you stop.

‘Y/N! Y/N!’ You turned around, and nearly crashed straight into…

‘Ben! Hi, how are you? How did the last game go?’ Ben looked - ugh - particularly gorgeous this morning. His hair had grown, he’d trimmed his stubble, his cheeks were as rosy as ever and his dimples were on full show as he smiled warmly at you.

‘I’m good, thanks, yeah the game was alright. We’re getting there.’ You nodded; you couldn’t say you watched games, but you’d watched a couple of highlight videos on YouTube and could potentially be persuaded to watch a game. Your personal favourite video was Chelsea’s Champions League win. Ben had clearly played magnificently, having stopped several goals from materialising. ‘How, um, how are you?’ You nodded and returned his smile.

‘I’m good, just on my way to open up.’ You were struck with a sudden idea. ‘If you’re not in a rush to get anywhere, you could wait for me to open and get the first coffee of the day?’ He smiled.

‘I don’t have anywhere to be today. Lead the way.’

The two of you started to make your way to the coffee shop, making friendly conversation on the way. He told you that he was being rested for the weekend, so he was training but wasn’t on the team for the weekend.

‘It’s frustrating, but I know I’m still not quite full fitness just yet,’ he’d admitted.

‘Full fitness? Why, what happened?’ You asked, curious. He ran a hand through his windswept hair.

‘I was tackled by a Juventus player back in November of 2021. It was a bad tackle, and it tore my ACL, and I’ve struggled with injuries since then. Hamstring, calf, knee… it’s been never ending. I try to tell myself that I’m still a good footballer, it’s just a shame that I’ve been plagued by injury, but still… I’m vice captain and I’ve had barely any minutes this season.’

You were quiet as he basically vented to you.

‘Oh Ben, I’m sorry to hear that. That sounds awful. How is your knee now?’ He sighed.

‘It’s okay. I get regular physio and scans, to keep track of progress. I’m just scared it will happen again, I guess. It’s a miracle I’ve come back to playing at all, a lot of players suffer so much damage they can never play again. It was scary for a while, I didn’t know whether I’d be playing again.’ You let him vent. You were never one of many words, but all your friends and colleagues said that you were one of the best listeners they knew, and this was something that Ben noticed straightaway. The way you just let him talk, even though you barely knew him, and showed genuine empathy and concern in his injury… it made him even more sure that he wanted to get to know you more, wanted to get to the bottom of who you were.

The two of you chatted more, and before long, you’d reached the coffee shop.

‘Take a seat, I’ll get things set up and bring you out a coffee. Did you want a panini?’ Your offer was simply too much for him to ignore, and he took a gentle hold of your arm as you made to walk away. ‘Why don’t you make two and have breakfast with me?’ Your breath hitched in your throat. Was he really asking what you thought he was asking?

You had to replay what he said to you a couple times in your head to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating. ‘Uh, yeah, sure that sounds great. I do need to get things done, like checks and things…’

‘I won’t keep you long, I promise. I just want to get to know you better.’ Despite the cold temperature (the heating hadn’t come on yet), your heart melted and your cheeks flushed. After making sure that everything in the shop was ready (in record time, you took heart in noticing), you prepared Ben’s usual panini and rang through a muffin for yourself. You had about an hour before the shop opened, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Ben sat down at a table close to the window, with you following shortly after.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask - how did you find this place? We’re hardly a major chain or on the main street.’ Ben took a sip of his coffee and smiled fondly.

‘Do you know Mason Mount?’ You shook your head, feeling slightly guilty for your football ignorance showing itself once again. ‘Well, he used to play for Chelsea, he’s up in Manchester now, but he used to come here regularly. Here’s a picture.’ He opened up Instagram and showed you a picture of Mason, and your jaw dropped immediately.

‘Oh! Him! He was always so lovely, he was here all the time. I had no idea he was a footballer! He never came across as one.’ You realised immediately what you’d said, and internally face-palmed, hoping that Ben hadn’t caught on. Unfortunately, he had.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ His face was lit up with a bright smile as he teased you. You were sure that your cheeks were a vibrant red.

‘Well - I - um… that didn’t come out well at all… if it’s any consolation you didn’t come across as a footballer at all… it’s just… when I think of footballers I don’t necessarily think of lovely polite young men who always say please and thank you.’

Ben wiggled his eyebrows.

‘So I’m a lovely young man then?’ He teased further, gently knocking your foot with his. You both dissolved into giggles; you couldn’t help it. Ben was sweet, curious and just downright funny.

‘Yes, you are a very lovely young man.’ Your eyes met his, and you knew then and there that this was the man for you.

Although you’d had your routine in life, it had always felt dull. Grey. Cloudy. Being around Ben, it felt like the clouds had parted and you were seeing in colour for the first time. It was comparable to that first fine sunny day after a long winter. You and Ben chatted back and forth for the next hour, finding out things about each other; favourite songs (his was Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen), favourite artists (yours was Niall Horan), biggest fears (his: not being good enough for Chelsea, yours: bridges, which prompted a teasingly heated discussion which ended in you showing the videos of the Baltimore bridge collapsing and how it had given you nightmares).

The clock showed 9:55, which meant you had five minutes to open the coffee shop.

‘I should get my apron on and get this party started,’ you sighed, getting up from your chair. Ben jumped up to stand next to you.

‘Thank you for sitting with me, I had a lot of fun.’ He smiled that beautiful dimpled smile of his.

‘I did too.’ He took a big breath. ‘And I would love to take you out for dinner sometime.’ The world stopped turning for the briefest of moments, during which you made a mental note to send Kendall a message saying that she was right all along.

‘I would like that a lot, Ben.’ He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you.

‘If I have your number I’ll message you the day and time. Dress nicely.’ God, this man was just a walking green flag - planning the date, funny, in touch with his emotions?

You added yourself to his phone as a new contact, before giving his phone back to him. As you did so, your fingers brushed slightly. Electricity coursed through you; it was almost like being given an electric shock, but this felt much more pleasant. In a wild instant, your body craved more physical contact with him. What did hugging him feel like? What did kissing him feel like? If just one small touch felt like this, what would more feel like? You were desperate to feel more, but you knew you had to wait.

‘I’ll see you soon, Ben.’ He swooped in and brushed the lightest of kisses on your cheek.

‘You too, Y/N.’ And with that, he was gone. You watched him walk down the road towards his car, which you presumed was parked in the multi-storey car park down the road. Your phone buzzed with a message:

From: Unknown number Hey it’s Ben, I’ll message you details of our date later today :) just need to plan it ;)

You screenshotted it and sent the photo to Kendall.

To: Kenny❤️ You were right all along…

From: Kenny❤️ WTF DETAILS NOW!!!!

You shut your phone off, grinning. For the time being, you were going to keep the details to yourself. Kendall would know in time, of course, but you had a coffee shop to open and a routine to keep to.

For now, at least. You had a funny feeling that your routine was going to change very soon, and instead of feeling scared, you opened up the shop feeling at peace with the changes that would be happening in your life.

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