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traumatrios · 9 months ago

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the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely.

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged.

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town.

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment).

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine.

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him.

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy.

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends.

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever.

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer.

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.”

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular.

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip.

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes.

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back.

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more.

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming.

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade.

Were you opposed? Not entirely.

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips.

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face.

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose.

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road.

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk.

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

#dodge mason x reader #dodge mason #panic tv show #josie writes!

826 notes · View notes

honnelander · 4 months ago

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go fish! finale part 1

here we are... the beginning of the end! crazy to say, even crazier to actually put in a post!! lol here is part 1 of the finale (sorry i'm splitting up the finale into parts but... it's going to be so massive i'd rather put something out there) thank you to everyone who has loved this story, supported it, and supported me. just know that i appreciate it all more than you know, and i hope that this delivers... sorry if i missed anyone who wanted to be tagged :(

WARNINGS: none

word count: 2.3k

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: things are finally coming to a crux for Sanji and reader....

prequel part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

@mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @abracarabbit @commanderfreethatdust @lordbugs @sweet-little-nothings @geisterfvhrer @kenkenmaaa @dazaisfavgf @fan-goddess @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @sapphireonline @dory-98 @redskull199987@teenyforestfairy @acupnoodle@strwberryii @luna0713hunter @tinydonkeysforlife @rand0m--fangirl @stevenknightmarc@asianfrustration13 @simp-sentral @dankchikorita @jollysemroger @gaslysainz @oh-worm-yee-haw @browneyedhufflepuff @randomgurl2326 @witchofremnants @browneyedhufflepuff @gothicuwusposts @alitaar @mylovelyreblogs @witchofremnants @feelinmatcha

@taro-gabi @silkflwr @justalittleweirdsometimes-deact @daydreamer-in-training @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @dark-academia-slut @olliesoxenfree @svnwcn @christinaatyourservice92 @andystweets @ohsilk @raythecomputerart @hyeon-yi @mugiwarasoul19 @atanukileaf @deserticwren @shidoumari-chan @writing-fanics @emmbny @gothsquash @lotus-sukimono @slytherinambitious @moreover-clover @inthemoonway @wonuskie @rebeccawinters @maybe-a-bi-witch @aaubin @queen-of-elves @plastichearts @onebatch--twobatch @callsignwidow @nixtape-foryou @nervousmumbling @basicallyabot @tr4shygrrl @decadenthumanalienranch-blog @lexingtoon @always-anything-but-ordinary @alphaash99 @mossy-mika @nehkookie @spaceface25 @thehighlordishere @certain-tragedies

Sanji was getting desperate.

The longer he went without telling you he loved you, that he was completely enamored with every part of your entire soul and being, that your existence gave him a reason to live and keep on breathing, the more he felt himself go absolutely insane.

He felt like a little kid on Christmas morning, sitting in front a mountain of presents but not being able to open them because it ‘wasn’t time to open them yet’, and that’s exactly how he felt with his situation with you: there was nothing more he wanted to do than to tell you he was in love with you, but he knew that it wasn’t the right time just yet. He didn’t want to just flat out say ‘I love you’ while you both were doing some rudimentary task or chore, or offhandedly one night while you both were doing the dishes after supper. He wanted something more than that, something special and extravagant.

You were the love of his life, and you deserved everything under the sun and more, so he wanted to make this very intimate and private moment between you two as special as he could, and that required some serious planning and patience on his part.

So, after his conversation with Nami a few days ago, her letting him vent out all of his frustrations and apprehensions he had with her, practicing saying those three special words numerous times so when the moment was right with you, they would just roll off the tongue, and some planning, he was ready to confess his feelings to you.

But something was wrong.

You were avoiding him and he had absolutely no idea why.

At first, he thought he was imagining things, that it was all in his head, but he should’ve known something was up when you didn’t come to dinner the first night.

Sanji had finished putting the last plate of food on the table, the rest of the crew already sitting down, ready to dig in, when he cast another glance at your empty spot at the table. It was weird, you were always the first one to show up to dinner too, always arriving early to lend him a helping hand or to help set up the table, and you were always the last one to leave, either due to being a slow eater or to help him clean up and do the dishes together. The unofficial dinner time routine you both shared was something he cherished and never took for granted; it was his favorite part of the day because he knew he always got to spend that time with you regardless of the day’s events.

But that daily routine had been broken. That first night, which was coincidentally on the same day where he had his big talk with Nami, you were missing, and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Where’s y/n?” He asked aloud to no one in particular, still standing, one hand on the back of his chair and a perplexed look on his face.

“Oh, she’s not coming,” Luffy said casually as he started eating, like you missing dinner was a normal thing.

It was, in fact, not normal. Not to Sanji. “What?” he asked, his eyes widening slightly. “Why? Is she ok?” he asked quickly, his mind starting to race at the idea that something was wrong with you.

“I guess so,” Luffy said, shrugging. “She seemed fine to me.”

Sanji exhaled a resigning sigh through his nose as he begrudgingly sat down. He didn’t really like Luffy’s answer, since the guy had a habit of missing important social nuances in conversations, but he had no choice. So, he ate his dinner halfheartedly, suddenly losing his appetite.

After dinner, when he was cleaning up the kitchen solo, he made sure to put together a plate of leftovers for you and placed it in the oven so it would be warm for whenever you were ready to eat.

But the next morning, when he checked the oven and saw the now overcooked and burnt plate of food still in there, untouched, Sanji felt his chest tighten... and not in a good way. Maybe you didn’t know the food was in there?

So, when you didn’t show up to dinner on the second night, Sanji followed the same routine as he did the night before, but this time he left a note on the counter with your name on it, detailing instructions on how to reheat the food he had lovingly prepared for you so it wouldn’t burn just in case you were having a midnight meal.

That following morning, he felt a bit better when he went into the kitchen, figuring that his plan worked, but when he saw his note in the exact same position where he had left it, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. His suspicions were confirmed when he opened the oven door and saw the now cold and ruined plate of leftovers just sitting there again, untouched, he let out a small breath of disbelief.

He hated wasting food, it was one of his core principles as a person and a chef, but he hated the thought of you not eating even more.

On the third night of you not showing up to dinner, Sanji had enough.

“Alright, where is she?” he asked standing before the dinner table holding the main dish of the evening, not moving to put it down, his voice devoted of his usual good humor and pleasant attitude and replaced with a sterner tone, like a parent who’s had enough of their child’s antics and just wanted the truth. “Where’s y/n?”

Unfortunately, Zoro was the one to speak up. “She’s fine.”

Sanji scoffed, letting out a humorless, disbelieving breath as he shook his head once. He could barely believe what he was hearing- that you missing dinner more than once was anything but normal. “Oh, really, mosshead? ‘She’s fine’?” He looked back at the swordsman, an edge to his voice, sharp like one of his many kitchen knives, as he asked, “You think her missing dinner for three nights in a row is her ‘being fine’?”

“Whoa, keep your pants on, waiter,” Zoro bit back. “I’m just telling you what she told me. What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” the chef started, his voice rising slightly as his mouth twisted into a cynical smile, “is that y/n has missed dinner for three days now, and none of you seem to care.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, we care!” Usopp said defensively. “But ever since she started writing her book, she’s been so busy-”

In hearing that, Sanji immediately felt all of his anger and annoyance evaporate, instantly feeling empty, his insides turning into ice. He felt his body go rigid, feeling like he just got kicked in the stomach, the air knocked out of his lungs. A beat passed as he tried his hardest to control his face and contain his emotions. The last thing he wanted was the crew commenting on his body language, he was already dealing with enough. His hands gripped the dish in his hand harder, his knuckles going white. Sanji felt another wave of pain stab itself in his chest. He swallowed thickly, trying to push down his emotions as he slowly asked, “She’s... writing a book?”

At once, the room became awkward as the rest of the straw hats exchanged looks with each other. It was pretty obvious to everyone that you and Sanji were close to (in love with) each other, so for you not to tell him something as monumental as this was incredibly weird and out of character.

“Yeah, man...” Usopp answered slowly, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “She started it a couple of days ago... she didn’t tell you?” he asked tentatively, looking up at the crestfallen cook.

Sanji felt the knife in his chest twist at Usopp’s question as he looked down at the dinner plate in his hands, pursing his lips momentarily. “Uh... no. No, she, uh...didn’t.” He breathed out a light, dejected laugh, looking back up at the rest of the crew with a small, fake smile, trying to pretend that everything was alright and normal between you two, when it was far from it. “I guess she forgot to tell me.”

But Zoro was never one to beat around the bush. “Or maybe she’s just avoiding you.”

Immediately, the room became silent. It was like all the air got sucked out of the room and no one dared to say a thing.

Well, except for Luffy. “What?” the straw-hat captain started, shaking his head once with a slight disbelieving smile. “What do you mean Zoro?” he asked as he looked to his left at his first mate. “Why would y/n be avoiding Sanji?”

"Well,” Zoro started, picking up his drink. “It’s pretty obvious that those two are basically joined at the hip,” he said, taking a quick swing of his beer, “so it’s just weird that she wouldn’t tell him something like this.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s avoiding him exactly,” Nami reasoned on Sanji’s behalf, flashing a sympathetic look towards the chef before looking back at her green-haired crewmate.

“Exactly,” the cook nearly ground out, an edge to his words as he continued, “you have no idea what you’re talking about mosshead.”

But Zoro was unconvinced. “Oh yeah?” He turned his attention to Sanji and with a quirked brow asked, “When’s the last time you spoke to her?” When Sanji opened his mouth to reply, Zoro cut him off. “And I mean a real conversation. Something that lasted more than five seconds.”

Sanji just stood there, closing his mouth as he felt the ice in his veins spread. He swallowed. “Thursday.”

The swordsman tipped his beer towards him. “And today’s Sunday,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “That’s three whole days of her avoiding you.”

“Ok but, why would y/n be avoiding Sanji?” Usopp asked, looking around at his fellow straw hats, his face twisted in confusion. When nearly all of them shrugged, he looked over at Sanji. “Did something happen between you two?”

The former line cook shrugged, letting out a small breath of frustration and helplessness as he looked down at the full plate in his hands again, a sardonic smile on his face. Since when did his private relationship with you turn into an open aired discussion? “I don’t think that’s any of your business-”

“Wait,” Zoro spoke up, cutting Sanji off. He looked at Usopp. “They were weird before. Remember that poker game the other day and she blew him off?”

Immediately, Usopp’s eyes widened in remembrance as he snapped his fingers. “OH yeah! You’re right! Now that was weird.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it all,” Zoro said, lifting his beer up to his mouth to hide his ghost of a smile. “I think this all started happening after that night at the bar.”

“Yeahhhh,” Usopp drawled, nodding in agreement with Zoro’s assessment. “I think you’re onto something swordsman.” He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze looking off to the side like he was deep in thought. “I don’t remember much from that night, because you know, Captain Usopp likes to party, but weren’t they going to kiss or something?”

Nami’s eyes widened as she shot daggers at the sharpshooter. “Usopp!” she hissed.

But that did nothing to deter or shut this whole conversation down. Instead, Usopp’s brazen comment just fueled the discussion even more like striking a match and dropping into a bunch of dry kindling.

Sanji felt his body stiffen. He suddenly felt like his soul was disassociating from his body as he watched and heard the crew continue to talk about the most intimate moment of his life in front of him like it was just another successful pirate raid or rescue attempt gone wrong.

“Yeahhh,” Zoro agreed, nodding slightly as a sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I remember that,” he added before taking another swing of his drink.

“Wait- what? Sanji and y/n kissed?” Luffy asked, his brows knitted together as he looked between his first mate and sharpshooter quizzically.

“No, they didn’t,” Usopp replied. Suddenly, Usopp sat up, his eyes bright like he had just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “Unless,” he started, waggling a finger at Sanji. “Unless... you guys did kiss, never talked about it, and now it’s like- super weird between you two!”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zoro commented.

“Guys,” Nami warned loudly. “Just drop it. You both have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But before anyone could say anything else, Sanji slammed dropped the main dish for the evening in the middle of the table unceremoniously, with a lot more force than necessary, immediately silencing the table.

“No, please continue,” Sanji bitterly encouraged as he straightened up and put his hands in his pockets, eyes trained at the table. “I would love for everyone to just- keep discussing a private relationship that has absolutely nothing to do with them, and to keep putting their two cents in.” When the table kept quiet, Sanji looked up, glancing at each of the members sitting there with eyes full of venom, daring them to say something else, but their eyes looked down or away from him in silent shame. Sanji scoffed. “Oh, what happened? Lost your nerve? Suddenly we’re all silent and have nothing to say?”

Usopp shifted in his chair slightly as he tentatively looked over at the enraged chef, his voice somber. “Sanji, we didn’t-”

But Sanji didn’t want to hear it. “Save it,” he spat, effectively silencing Usopp. “Enoy your fucking meal.” He shoved his chair into the table, causing everyone to flinch except for Zoro, rattling everything before making his way towards the deck to have a smoke. “And clean up everything yourselves tonight,” he called out as he pulled out his cigarette tin and lighter. “I’m done.”

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starminzoo · 3 months ago

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╭──────────────────✎

╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 cowboy!yunho

꒰ risa's note ꒱ ever since these pics dropped... i haven't been the same 😭 the urge to write cowboy!yunho was eating me up but I only know yee-haw 😭 and nothing else man welp hope you all like wtv this is + this is poorly written guys.

warnings: cursing, choking, humping, bitting, marking, boob sucking, lil perv behavior, fingering, dirty talk, creampie, yunho as a cowboy.

cowboy!yunho who lives in the town, but was here to help your grandparents out like a good kid he claims to be :D

cowboy!yunho who left you speechless by his sweet smile and polite manners at first.

cowboy!yunho who is adored more by your grandparents than you are :)

cowboy!yunho who picks at you for making little mistakes here and there

cowboy!yunho who lovesss to tease you just to see the cute annoyed pout on your lips

cowboy!yunho who once made you run a mile as he left the animals run around freely 😭

cowboy!yunho who wakes you up with the rooster singing above your head (yeh the rooster pecked your forehead leaving behind an ugly bruise)

cowboy!yunho who follows you like a sad puppy when you give him silent treatment after his pranks

cowboy!yunho who you swore to hate all your life but that damn smile of his and that damn muscles of his and his damn height

cowboy!yunho who teases you regarding your height 🧍🏻‍♀️

cowboy!yunho who starts to work shirtless because of heat (god bless his parents)

cowboy!yunho who was actually nice if he wasn't speaking with his ass.

cowboy!yunho with whom you accidentally got drunk and ended up falling asleep on the table.

cowboy!yunho who helped you get to bed but you dragged him down with you and guys fell asleep with him sleeping besides you.

cowboy!yunho who was awoken rudely by you kicking him down your bed in the morning.

cowboy!yunho who makes you pay for kicking him in the morning by tying your boot lace together when you are busy so you end up falling face first into the mud (mud mask 😻)

cowboy!yunho on whom you took revenge by hiding his farming tools in pigpen.

cowboy!yunho who always gave you princess treatment.

cowboy!yunho who never allowed you to pick up heavy things or work alone.

cowboy!yunho who calls you petal because you wear lots of summer dresses with flowers on them.

cowboy!yunho who brings flowers for you on his way back from the market.

cowboy!yunho who planted your favorite flowers and fruits without you knowing.

cowboy!yunho who started to notice that you became less hostile with him when you started making his favorite foods.

cowboy!yunho who was about to confess his love for you when you made him his favorite pie.

cowboy!yunho whose small gestures you always appreciated such as putting his jacket around your waist whenever you climbed up the horse, picking you up easily as you weighed nothing to place you on mud free space, always tagging along with you to the market to keep the creeps off.

cowboy!yunho whose favorite sound was of your laughter.

cowboy!yunho who always made you feel happy and at peace whether you guys were cooking together, watching the sunset together or even star gazing, you guys were at peace.

cowboy!yunho who drags you out late at night in the fields just so you can run and giggle at fireflies and he can just stare at you with love pouring out of his eyes.

cowboy!yunho who fell in love first and harder.

cowboy!yunho who asked you out under a starry night and when you said 'yes' he placed a crown made out of your favorite flowers (those that he grew himself)

cowboy!yunho who loves to back hug you when you both are riding 'his' horse yes he owns one named thunder :)

cowboy!yunho who gets all pouty and whiny when you pay more attention to thunder than him.

cowboy!yunho who loves back hugging you when guys cook together.

cowboy!yunho who asks for pecks after every chore he completes.

cowboy!yunho who also loves messy make outs with you like we are talking about saliva, teeth and all.

cowboy!yunho who loves taking sneak peeks at your ass whenever you wear short summer dresses.

cowboy!yunho who loves the way your panties stick to your core all cute and cozy (????).

cowboy!yunho who also loves your dresses for another reason, easy access to pussy whenever he wants.

cowboy!yunho who just puts his fingers inside whenever you are around him, skillfully drawing you closer to your high, "ahh ahh yunhoo~ am cumming hah".

cowboy!yunho who loves you with his whole heart but your thigh are his drugs.

cowboy!yunho who treats your thighs as his stress pillows biting, sucking and smacking them but he also loves to relieve his stress by spending hours between your thighs.

cowboy!yunho who loves your pretty pink pussy, always wet and warm for him, "ahh yuyu, fuck fuck fuck 's good 's good".

cowboy!yunho who eats you out like his last meal every.damn.time.

cowboy!yunho who loves to creampie you, the sight of your creamy cunt covered with both of your juices is his obsession.

cowboy!yunho who loves littering your neck,chest and thighs and even your ass with love bites, "mine, mine, mine".

cowboy!yunho who knows it drives you crazy that when he fucks you wearing his cowboy hat.

cowboy!yunho who goes crazy when you hump his leather clad thigh, he holds your waist guiding you as you shiver from the intensity of your high.

cowboy!yunho who chokes you on his leather clad fingers, "good girl just like that".

cowboy!yunho who heard you singing the lyrics "save a horse and ride a cowboy" he made sure you did that.

cowboy!yunho who was on the verge of passing out when you kept riding the life out of his dick, "fuckkk petal 's good mhmmm".

cowboy!yunho who loves cock warming with you after a tired day in fields.

cowboy!yunho who loves to bury his face in your chest, always melting away in your boobs.

cowboy!yunho who loves to suck on your nipples like a child, "*pop* so good baby hmmm".

cowboy!yunho whose mind goes hazy when you give him "worlds best head", "mhmm yes just like that petal deep and warm mhmmm fuck".

cowboy!yunho whose favorite sex position is doggystyle or reverse cowgirl.

cowboy!yunho who loves breeding your needy cunt, "fuck look at this pussy taking me so well holy fuck yes yes".

cowboy!yunho who loves to fuck you in the fields at night under the starry sky, "yuyu someone is gonna seeeee fuckk ahhh" "let them petal, let them see how good I fuck you".

cowboy!yunho who loves staring at his scratched up back in the mirror, proudly smiling as it's the way you mark him as yours.

cowboy!yunho who loves when you wear his clothes be it his vests or just his hats, he loves fucking you in them.

THIS IS SHITTT CAN U BELIEVE IT WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS SINCE HE POSTED THOSE PICS, i wouldn't be even mad if this flops like yeh :) I am sorry guys.

#ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez headcanons #jeong yunho #yunho ateez #yunho imagines #yunho oneshot #yunho headcanons #yunho x y/n #yunho drabble #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho fluff #ateez yunho

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afictionaladventure16 · 10 months ago

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Safe & Sound (Tim Bradford x Adopted!Teen!Reader)

The Rookie Masterlist

Summary: While Tim and Lucy are on their first date, Y/N and Tamara face some challenges that ends with the realization that Y/N's past has come back to her new life.

Author's Note: I know Tamara technically doesn't find out that Tim and Lucy are dating until later on but uhhh this is fiction so yee. All requests are open!

Warnings: Mentions of fights and stabbing

Word Count: 4,630

You watched from the distance as your dad tried on different dress shirts in his bedroom. You had seen your father go on many first dates… maybe ‘many’ is an exaggeration, but that was beside the point, the point was that you had never seen him this nervous. He looked like a girl trying to find the right dress for the school dance, you couldn’t help but smile. He was in love.

You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Tamara

He’s a mess, you sent.

A few seconds later your phone buzzed in your hands,

So is she lol.

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “What’s so funny?” Your dad asked as he gave you a quick glance.

You shook your head, “you guys have no idea how nervous you both are.”

He sighed, “Should I call her?” You gave him a nod. Tim gave you a smile, “First, what do you think?” he raised up a dark grey shirt next to a light gray one.

You rolled your eyes, “Does it even matter?”

“What if it clashes with her outfit?” He asked. After the two years you had lived with the man, this was the first time you had heard him say that phrase.

“I think all that matters is that you both are enjoying the date,” you suggested.

Tim looked at you with a smile on his face. After Isobel, he felt so lost within himself and somehow he found himself becoming a foster father to a young ten-year-old. It was only a year later that he began the adoption process. It was a long one, especially with the history with Isobel, he had waited a year and a half until the adoption was finalized. It was the best day of his life and he knows that there will be other days in his future that will try to complete, but he will always hold that day close to his heart. It was the day he learned how to be himself again, the day he learned that family didn’t always have to be by blood.

Now you were fourteen, looking forward to your fifteenth birthday coming up soon. A day that Angela was so busy preparing for because she knew as a Latina that you had to have a quinceanera, and Tim always tried his best to help you grow within your culture. It was one of the main reasons why he learned Spanish.

He let out a sigh as he reached for his phone, “do you-”

“If you don’t call her right now, I will call her myself, but I will video call her so she can see-”

“Alright, alright!” Tim chuckled as he dialed Lucy’s number.

You walked out of the room, sending Tamara another text.

I’m assuming you’re coming over with pizza? You sent.

You know me too well.

Ever since you met Tamara, she has been like an older sister. Maybe it was because the two of you were in the system and bonded over the traumatic shit both went through. Or because you both lived with cops that took you in and, although Chen is technically just her roommate, they were now your family.

Tim walked out of his room minutes later, “Alright, I am just a phone call away. Don’t forget to let Kojo out and please tell Tamara I said hi. Um- Am I forgetting anything?” He asked as he began patting his pants pockets.

“Keys and they’re in the key bowl by the door,” you stated as you scrolled through Netflix, Tim walked over to the key bowl, rolling his eyes as he grabbed his keys, “Bold of you to assume Tamara is coming over.”

“Is she not?” He asked.

“No, she is,” you smiled.

“That’s what I thought,” he sighed, “Don’t open the door for anyone but Tamara. You know the drill, make sure it’s her before you even op-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Can you go already so we can get this whole Lucy and Tim being continuously nervous over with?”

Tim took in a small breath, he couldn’t help but catch that you had called him by his first name. It had been two years already and you were still calling him Tim. Of course, he didn’t know how to tell you that calling him dad was okay with him and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to do so; but just hearing it would mean everything to him.

He gave you a small nod, “Call me if anything, alright? And make sure to turn on the alarm when I leave.”

“Yes, sir,” you watched as he walked out of the house, you waited for the sound of the lock before turning back around to continue your scrolling.

Twenty minutes later, you heard the doorbell ring, which was then followed by a phone call.

You quickly answered, “I assume you’re outside,” you said as you got up from the couch.

“Your assumptions are correct,” Tamara said. You opened the door to let Tamara in. She had been carrying a bag, of what you assumed is junk food, along with a box of pizza. “Alright, so I found this new candy that you just have to try!”

You locked the door behind Tamara, “Alright, but first I need a slice of pizza because I am starving!” You followed Tamara as she walked into the kitchen to put down the box of pizza. You instantly opened it and grabbed a slice, “I can’t believe I watched Tim go through every single nice shirt in his closet like he didn’t even do that on his first date with Asley!”

“Oh, you think that’s bad? Lucy’s whole closet is now on her bed,” Tamara commented as she unpacked the bag of junk food. “Do you guys have sodas?”

“Yeah, in the fridge,” you gestured towards the fridge. Tamara helped herself, as she always does when she comes over, and she came over quite a bit. “Why do you call your dad by your first name?” Tamara blurted out.

You shrugged, “I dunno, I guess… I guess I just feel like I am not allowed to call him dad.”

“But he adopted you”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I’ve wanted to, I just feel like I lost the moment to do so since it’s been two years since the adoption.” Tamara opened the box for a slice of pizza, “Has he talked to you about it? Or Lucy?”

Tamara looked down, “I know Lucy’s mentioned it. Something about he feels like he’s doing something wrong.”

You sighed, “What do you think?”

“I’m the last person you want to ask that.” You gave her a pleading look, and she let out a sigh, “Look, if it were me, the timing wouldn’t matter. He gave you a family, a home, he made you feel loved after everything you had been through in life… in a way, he gave you a second chance that not a lot of us get.”

She was right and you knew that. It had meant a lot coming from Tamara since she never got the opportunity to get this chance. She would argue that she did when Lucy took her in, but in a way it was different.

“Should I just do it randomly? Like just ‘Good morning, dad,’ just nonchalant about it?” You asked.

“Something like that,” Tamara smiled, “You’ll know how to do it when you feel ready and I think you know that you are.”

The two of you ate pizza and watched Game of Thrones for the next hour. At some point, you had gotten up and let Kojo out to the backyard, he had been whining by the door for a while. Tamara had taken that opportunity to get up to grab some snacks when all the lights went out, you looked over at Tamara.

“Whoa,” She exclaimed.

“This is fine,” you stated as you got up from the couch. “Tim usually keeps a flashlight in a drawer in the kitchen,” you walked over to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. It didn’t take you long to find the flashlight. You shined it at Tamara who had her phone flashlight on.

Tamara sighed as she walked over to the window, “That’s weird.”

“What?” you walked over to her. You were quick to notice that the houses across the street still had power.

“Looks like the neighbors next door also have power,” Tamara pointed out. You looked over at the neighbors to your left, she was right, “Did Tim forget to pay something?”

You scoffed, “No, he’s pretty good at paying the bills on time.”

The sound of the floorboard creaking caused the two of you to quickly turn your heads, “I didn’t move,” Tamara whispered.

“Neither did I,” you whispered back. You felt your heart leap into your throat, “Maybe I should call Tim,” you whispered as you took your phone out of your pocket. As soon as you had unlocked it you noticed the no bar signal on the top right corner. “Fuck,” you whispered. Kojo was scratching at the door, whining to get back in.

“What?”

You showed her your phone, “I have no signal.”

“W-what? How?”

You looked around for something to use as a weapon, “I’ve heard Tim mentioned this before. Some people use jammers in order to block a phone’s signal.”

“You think someone is-” You held up your finger, Tamara stopped talking. The two of you fell silent, listening to the floorboards creaking increasingly.

“We need to get out of here,” you whispered. You glanced over at the door, “I’m gonna grab kojo-”

“No, if Tim were here he’d want you out, Kojo can fend for himself,” Tamara stated. Tamara quietly walked over to the kitchen grabbing a pan that was on the stove. You slowly walked through the living room, you knew Tim had a bat lying around somewhere for emergencies.

What happened next was a blur. One second you were looking over at Tamara as she inched closer to the front door and the next you were on the ground and you heard yelling. You fought back as the person who was attacking you pulled out a knife. You were trying your best to use the techniques Tim had shown you, but this man was tougher than you had ever imagined. You knew that it wasn’t an excuse, that even if he was tougher and bigger than you, you had to find a way to defend yourself.

“I got the other one,” you heard another voice yell out. You hadn’t realized there were two of them.

You looked over at where Tamara was, “Tamara, run!” You yelled out. You could see the hesitation in her, “Go!”

Tamara felt like running would be the biggest mistake, but she knew there was no way of getting help by staying here. The second man inched closer to her, she swung the pan that she had in her hands, hitting the man in the head, it was enough to stun him so she could get a running start. She ran out of the house and into the neighbor's front yard, running up to the door; she began banging on it, “Help!”

You, on the other hand, were trying to get out of the man's grip. You sucked in a breath knowing that you had to do something you never wanted to do. You opened your mouth and bit the man's arm as hard as you could, he let out a loud yell and let go of you.

“You bitch!” he yelled out as he lunged towards you with his knife.

You lunged away from him, trying to dodge the knife, but he was bigger than you and still quicker than you. You felt a sharp pain in your side, “What the fuck did you do, Rick?!” The other guy asked as he came back inside. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to us if we bring her in like this?” You reached down to where you felt the pain coming from, feeling something sticky. The more you touched it, the more pain you felt. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground.

“Fuck,” the man named Rick, looked at the knife and then at you. “I-I can fix this.”

“No! Forget it! It’s been compromised! We have to go, the other girl ratted us out!” The man began to make his way to the back door. “Let’s go!” he yelled out again. You lay on the ground, watching as the blurry image of them ran out of the house.

Tim couldn’t help but look towards the door every other second. Was part of him worried someone from the station would see him? Yes. But also, he had a habit of looking at the door every time someone walked in, especially when he was nervous.

“Are you worried someone from the station is gonna walk in?” Lucy asked.

“What?”

“You are,” Lucy said in disbelief.

“No, I-”

“Wow.”

“What are the odds?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “It’s likely.” She cleared her throat, she didn’t want to have this discussion right now. “So, Y/N’s quince is coming up, how is that coming?”

“Good, good. I um probably going to be in debt for the next year so you can expect a nice Christmas card from us rather than nothing but emptiness inside.”

Lucy chuckled, “Angela is running you dry with this quince.”

“That she is. Anything Y/N wants, she gets. I swear she spoils her like she's her own kid.”

Lucy smiled, “I’ve noticed.” Lucy’s phone began to ring, she took it out, letting out a small chuckle at the sight of the name. “It’s Tamara, the girls are probably trying to check in on us,” she rolled her eyes. “Should I let it go to voicemail?”

Tim wanted to say yes let it go to voicemail, but there was a voice in the back of his head telling him not to. “Answer it,” he smiled, “Two can play this game,” he teased.

Lucy placed the phone on speaker, “Before you even ask, yes we are still at the restaurant and no I am not bringing you leftovers, I know you guys had pizza,” Lucy said with a hint of laughter behind her voice.

“Lucy,” Tamara cried out.

Lucy and Tim’s facial expressions changed, “Tamara, what’s wrong?” Tim spoke up.

“It all happened so quickly,” Tamara began.

“Just take a deep breath, Tamara,” Lucy began, “What happened?”

Tamara let out a soft sob, “Someone broke in the house. They cut the power and we had no way to call anyone. I-I ran to the neighbors for help, but Y/N was still inside, I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t get to her.”

Tim felt his chest tightened, suddenly this world no longer felt safe. In all his years working as an officer, he never imagined this to happen. Yes, he was prepared for it, or so he thought he was, but now, this world was more of a menacing place than he had realized.

Tim wanted to tell Tamara that it was okay, but he couldn’t, because to him, nothing was okay at the moment. He had failed the one promise he had kept to himself the day he took you in and that was to keep you safe. Now the one day he decided to be vulnerable and comfortable, it all came crashing down.

Tim got up from his seat, “Where are you?” Lucy asked.

“St. Vincents,” He heard Tamara say as he left a few bills on the table and began walking away. Lucy told Tamara that they’d be there in a few before catching up with Tim.

“Tim,” Lucy began, you could hear the pain within her voice. “Tim,” Lucy pleaded. Tim quickly turned around as they got outside. “I’m driving,” Lucy stated as the exited the restaurant.

“No-”

“No,” Lucy exclaimed as she got in front of Tim, “you’re not in the right mindset to be driving right now.” Tim opened his mouth to argue with her, “I’m driving.”

Tim closed his mouth and gave her a nod. They got into Lucy’s car and drove off to the hospital. Lucy broke a few laws that day, but Tim probably would’ve broken a hundred just to get there sooner. Tim didn’t wait for the car to be fully parked to hop out, he was already inside the emergency room making his way to the receptionist when Lucy made her way into the hospital.

“My daughter was just brought in, her name is-”

“Tim,” Lucy choked out, her eyes had landed on a horrific sight in front of her.

“Lucy!” Tamara called out, Tim turned around just in time to see Tamara running over to Lucy. He looked around for you, hoping to see you running up to him, but his heart sank deeper every second that passed. He walked over to the girls, his eyes landed on what Lucy was focusing on.

“Oh God,” he let out a shaky breath, as he watched nurses surrounding work on your wounds. He ran up to you, one hand grabbing yours and the other brushing the hair out of your face. “Y/N, sweetie, it’s me,” Tim began, “I'm here, okay?” he brought your hand up to his lips and placed a small kiss on them. He felt the tears begin to stream down his cheeks. “Is she going to be okay?”

One of the nurses let out a deep sigh, “The stab wound barely missed one of her aorta’s by an inch, it did knick her one of her lungs causing her to loose a significant amount of blood.” one of the other nurses began to lift the handles on the side.

“We’ll be needing to take her up to surgery now, to repair the damages,” another nurse said.

Tim couldn’t find the strength to let go, but he knew he had to. “Tim,” Lucy began, “they need to take her.” She placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

Tim felt tears begin to well up in his eyes, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, “We’ll get through this okay? You can’t leave me.”

Lucy felt like the villain as she pulled Tim away from you, but she knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own.

Tim looked over at Tamara, “What happened?”

Tamara let out a small sob, “I-I don’t know. One second we were watching Game of Thrones and the next the power goes off.” She took in a deep breath, “We decided it was safer to be outside of the house once we realized we had no signal, she wanted to get Kojo but I told her to just leave him outside and that’s when they attacked her. I should’ve stayed with her,” she looked at Tim with remorseful eyes, “I’m so sorry, she told me to run, but I should’ve stayed.”

Tim shook his head, “No, you got help, if it weren’t for you, you both would’ve probably been worse off.”

“Tim,” Lucy called as she spotted Sgt. Grey walks towards them.

“Sir,” Tim began.

“I came as fast as I could, How is she?” he asked.

Tim sighed, shaking his head, “She’s in surgery, the stab wound hit one of her lungs.”

Sgt. Grey shook his head, before turning to Tamara, “We’re going to need your statement if you’re up to it, if not we can always wait for tomorrow.”

“I think after all they’ve been through, I think it’s best if we wait for tomorrow,” Lucy chimed in.

Tamara gave him a nod, “Tomorrow it is.” Sgt. Grey stated. He looked over at Tim, he noticed he hadn’t said much. His eyes were focused on the double doors where they had just wheeled you through. He walked closer to Tim as Lucy and Tamara walked over to some nearby chairs to sit down. “How are you holding up?” Sgt. Grey asked.

Tim shook his head, “I wasn’t there.”

“And you won’t always be there,” Sgt. Grey confirmed. “You can’t always be there, it’s one of the things we have to get used to when being a parent. We have to hope we raise them with enough knowledge so they know what to do in situations like this.” He let out a sigh, “trust me, it isn’t easy.”

Tim nodded, “I’ve noticed.”

“You let me know if you need anything,” Sgt. Grey gave Tim a soft smile before walking over to the nurse's station. Tim walked over to Lucy, sitting down beside her. No words were exchanged and somehow he preferred it this way. Lucy held his hand, squeezing it every once in a while as if she were checking in on him and he would squeeze back.

Tim felt like he had been waiting for days when in reality it had only been an hour. His eyes never left the double doors that were ahead of them, his body would jump every time someone would walk through them.

Eventually, a man in scrubs walked through them, his eyes scanning the lobby of people waiting to be seen or waiting for a patient. “Family of Y/N Bradford?” He called out.

Tim quickly got up from his seat, “I’m her father,” he quickly stated as he walked up to the man. “How is she?”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Avery, I was the lead surgeon. I am happy to say that the surgery was a success,” Tim let out a relieved sigh. “We’ll need to keep her for a few days for observation of course, but she’ll be good to go home after.”

Tim smiled at the man, “Thank you, when can I see her?”

“She’s in recovery right now, I can only allow one visitor,” The doctor stated.

Tim looked at Lucy, “Go, we’ll come back in the morning,” Lucy said.

“Do you mind stopping by my place and picking up Kojo? I think Y/N would kill me if she knew he stayed the night outside.”

Lucy let out a small chuckle, “Yeah, we’ll pick him up.”

“I’ll have you follow me,” the doctor gestured for Tim to follow him.

Tim followed Dr. Avery to the recovery room, he knew this hospital too well to know where he was going, but he never thought he would have to be here for a reason like this and he never wanted to be in this hospital again unless it was for work. Once he got to the room, the doctor left to finish up some paperwork.

Tim sat beside the bed, he gently held your hand. You looked so fragile to him as if you were a newborn, he was scared that one wrong move would hurt you. He waited by your bedside throughout the night. The morning sunlight began to peak through the windows, causing him to wake up. He gave you a small glance, sighing once he realized you were still asleep.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes once again, hoping to get some extra sleep.

You began to stir, you could feel the pain in your abdomen and you heard beeping. Slowly opening your eyes, beginning to realize that you were now in the hospital, the last thing you remember was watching the two men run out of the house. “Dad?” you called out with panic in your voice.

Tim’s eyes darted open, “Hey,” he said as he sat up in his chair. He grabbed your hand, he was overjoyed that you were awake, but also overjoyed of the fact that you had just called him dad for the first time. Although he was trying to hide his excitement because he didn’t know how to react to it, he had been waiting for this moment for so long and now it was here but the situation was overshadowing it.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Like shit,” you stated.

You winced as you tried to sit up, “Let’s try not to do that for now, alright? I know you’re uncomfortable, but I can get the nurses in-”

You waved your hand to stop him, “No, I’m fine.”

“You want to talk about what happened?” He asked.

You shrugged, “It all happened so quickly. The lights went out and Tamara noticed that the neighbors had electricity and that’s when we tried to call you, but our phones had no signal.”

“Looks like they used a jammer,” Tim speculated.

“That’s what I thought, we decided to leave but I wanted to get Kojo-”

“Kojo can take care of himself,” he stated.

“Tamara said you would say that, but someone attacked me as I got into the living room. Tamra was already at the door and she hit the other guy with a pan before running to the neighbors. I used all the techniques you taught me,” you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You fought back and you’re alive. That’s what matters right now,” Tim placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I remember one more thing,” you began. “When the guy that attacked me stabbed me, the other guy got mad. He said ‘Do you have any idea what he’ll do to us if we bring her in like this?’ in those exact words.”

Tim felt the panic rush through his body, if his gut was right, he knew what these men were talking about. “Do you think they were planning on taking me?” You asked.

Tim didn’t want you panicking, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t be safe because someone was looking for you. “I don’t think so,” he began, “But Angela is on the case, you’ll tell her what you told me and we’ll get this straightened out.” You nodded, “Now, how about we talk about the elephant in the room.”

You looked at him with a confused expression “What elephant?”

“You called me dad,” he smiled.

You rolled your eyes, “I can go back to calling you Tim.”

He chuckled, “No, no, it’s about time you called me dad. I was starting to worry you weren’t going to.”

“I felt like I lost my chance to do so,” you confessed.

“Honestly, if you had waited twenty years to call me dad, I would probably be sad that you waited twenty years but, overjoyed that you did,” he smiled.

“Be honest with me,” You began. “There isn’t anyone from my past that’s looking for me right?” You hadn’t spoken about your past in a few years, it was something you wanted to leave behind. “The last thing I need is these fantasmas (ghosts) coming back,” you added.

Tim sighed, “I don’t know, but you have me there and I can promise that from here on out–”

You shook your head, “You can promise to keep me safe but let’s face it, you’re not there with me when I’m at school or when you’re at work.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But I’m a cop. I have my ways and I know you too well.”

You smiled, “Yeah, I think you do.”

“Plus, if anyone does kidnap you, they’ll return you in two minutes.”

Your face turned into shock, “Wh-what?”

“Trust me, I don’t think they’ll be able to stand the twenty questions they’ll be getting from you or even the karaoke. I give them two minutes before they return you,” you let out a small laugh before you winced in pain. Tim sighed, he knew no matter what that he was going to protect you, and if he failed to do so, he was going to do everything he possibly could do, to get you back.

#The rookie fanfic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #the rookie #tim bradford x teen!reader #tim bradford x adopted #tim bradford angs #tim bradford angst #tim bradford x adopted!teen!reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x lucy chen #tim bradfor x you #tim bradford #dad!tim bradford x teen!reader #tim bradford x teen!reader angst #tim bradford the rookie

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dilemmars · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈.⠀( some mysteries are better left unresolved , 9.6k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this second chapter, there's going to be an explicit scene of bullying and violence towards reader, and mentions of prostitution. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀second chapter out! i don't know why, but i found it kind of difficult to finish it because it took me a while to decide how i was going to approach the first part. and i also feel like it's super repetitive, so i hope you don't find it boring (an di'm sorry if you do! i'll try to write better) :(( then we have more arcane episode 2 content, and a bittersweet end. next chapter will be the end of the first act (and we all know how it goes), i would advice to prepare yourself for some angst. meanwhile, just enjoy 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

The whisper of the name of Vander, the hound of the underworld, and his fearsome reputation, had drifted through the gaunt streets of Zaun like a famished viper aching for nourishment, but it had also reverberated within the glassed walls of the brothel in which you had grown up. You had first heard it from your mother's lips, like the caress of a feather brushing your skin, when you were too young to remember what had been of the city before him. In your blurred memories, only a chaos of violence and children's games, and then just peace. Like so many secrets huddled under the beds and behind the wardrobes of The Gilded Lily, it was a mystery how Vander had managed to keep that invisible line between the two worlds intact for so long. The only important thing, however, was that it worked.

At the age of twelve, you had come to think that he could be your father. Like many children of prostitutes, you had never met yours. Like many unwanted results of endless nights of work, you hadn't been much more than a mouth to feed that couldn't monetise your stay at the brothel. At least, until you got older. You had spent your days wandering the city in search of mechanisms to fix, wanting to spend as little time as possible under the brothel roof, knowing that your presence was not welcome. Profiting from the rare tastes of the men and women who frequented the many decorated rooms downstairs —and the even wilder fantasies they paid for in the rooms upstairs— your mother had decided to keep you when she learned of the unexpected pregnancy, against the madam's insistent advice and the usual procedure on such occasions.

During your childhood you had heard too many names whispered in the perpetual night of Zaun, always hidden in the poorly lit corridors of the place, but Vander's had never been one of the feigned moans that used to echo in your head even when you covered your ears. Only once, while your mother was getting ready for one of The Gilded Lily's most important clients, your nimble hands braiding and winding strands of her hair, had she muttered those six letters, in a hurried ‘If you ever find yourself in danger, call on Vander’. She had always become wary, anxiety creeping like a terrifying shiver up her spine, when you had to leave the building without a place to shelter. And on those occasions, after forcing herself to ask you not to return until after the early hours of the morning, you would lose yourself in the alleys of Zaun.

You still remembered that night, when her lips had left a quick kiss on your forehead, a carmine shadow that had remained on your skin until she had smudged it with her thumb, and then you had disappeared from her room, carrying that unknown name in your heart like a secret. It had been no accident that your mother had confided those words to you after seeing you come home with more than one bruise on your face, some nights even more, because she knew he could help you. And her instinct had not failed, because you had remembered his name precisely until you had needed to pronounce it.

Life in the brothel hadn't been so bad once you had familiarised to the overpowering scent of all the perfumes, the chaos of the attic rooms —with clothes of all kinds scattered on the beds, make-up products everywhere— and the unclassifiable noises behind closed doors that became a background melody once you got used to them. Still, and despite the fact that all the women and men who worked there had found it hard to consider you as one of their own, sometimes even treating you more like a pet than a child, you valued your independence too much to waste time getting annoyed looks for being in the way. You had often slipped into the alleyways adjoining the big building, after looking for the moment when the Madam locked herself in her office, and you had walked the dirty streets of the undercity with your head down under your hood.

That had been how you had discovered the tattered shop of the gentle Benzo, the owner of a cave full of treasures, who had grown fond of you. He had given you your first screwdriver, and taught you how to build any mechanism from scratch. He always kept useless pieces of machinery in a box with your name on it, ready for you to pick them up as soon as you could. At first it had been in exchange for you looking after the little boy who had been left outside his door years ago, who was only slightly younger than you, but it had ended up becoming a problem, even if he hadn't been aware of it at the time.

In Zaun people didn't need a reason to sin. It was as easy as breathing the foul oxygen that clung to your skin and poisoned you from the inside, urging you to steal, to fight for money, to kill if you had to. The need made you unpredictable, desperate. And that culture of poverty, applied to children, was lethal to those with fewer possibilities. Applied to you, well, let's just say it had meant a big target painted on your forehead that screamed you were too easy a prey for the most despicable ones.

It had not been the first time you had been attacked thinking you could have something of value in your pockets. You had heard the comments of adults passing by, whispering about the blood that ran through your veins, speculating about the amount of money you would have under your name just because you lived in The Gilded Lily. They had assumed you were the brothel's heiress, always messing around in the city streets with no sense of direction, ignoring the consequences, and you had dressed up in the mask they had woven for you, lifting your chin proudly as you listened to them, wanting to believe that fantasy. Until the first punch had come. Merciless, silent, followed by a low laugh and a threat. You had curled up as overly bold hands roamed your body in search of diamonds, when you could only offer nuts and bolts.

But they had grown even bolder, taking everything you had on you no matter how little it was worth, leaving you with less and less material and more than bruises.

That night they had simply gone overboard, for the fun of it.

You had tried to stifle a chuckle at almost bumping into a customer, too busy making a funny face at Ekko as a goodbye, while sneaking out of the shop door. No sooner had you set foot in the street, the cold air outside invading your lungs almost painfully, than you had received the habitual punch. Swift and heavy against your windpipe, knocking the breath out of you, bending your body forward. One of your attackers had laughed to your right when the bag you had been holding had fallen to the floor, spilling screws and metal pieces onto the cobbled floor, and hadn't even bothered to pick them up. They had finally decided to stop pretending that mugging you was not their goal.

You had held your hands to your chest, your eyes following a screw rolling a few centimetres, before a second punch landed, straight in your face. A twinge of pain had coursed through you as you felt their fist hit a wound on your cheekbone that hadn't quite healed, and you had frowned, stumbling back. The third, aimed at your jaw, had been the one that had knocked you to the ground.

You had collapsed, gasping for air, curling into yourself on the cold floor, dazed. Your body had pulsed, your heart pounding, and you could only think that if you stayed still long enough, they would leave you alone. With your back pressed against the wall of Benzo's building, your ragged breaths had hit your forearms with every inhale, your arms protecting your face. But far from hearing their laughter fade down the alley, the silence had granted you a moment's peace before you were kicked in the pit of your stomach, a breathy and quiet pant spilling from between your lips.

You had drawn your knees even tighter to your chest, sobbing, and tensed your muscles, fighting against the weakening pain. You hadn't been able to tell if you were crying, thick tears sliding down your face, or if it was blood, but after a few seconds you hadn't cared. You had wanted it to be over as soon as possible, even if it meant being knocked unconscious. You'd had no idea how many there were, their voices, distorted by your fear and their amusement, shimmering in a mocking tone. You had closed your eyes as you had felt another kick to your ribs, and had cowered against the wall, wishing you were dead.

But then you had remembered your mother's words. Soft and crystalline in your memory, just as fearful as your voice when they gushed from your chest like salt water desperate to leave your lungs after a shipwreck, ‘I know Vander!’

The hand of one of them had paused against your shoulder at the broken sound, and you had frowned, praying that his name was threat enough to make them go away.

‘Do you?’ they had asked you, the poorly disguised fear in their voice feeling like a breath of fresh air.

‘Yes!’ you had replied, glancing out from behind your arms, breathing heavily. ‘And he's going to go after you if you don't stop!’

You hadn't let doubt creep into your gaze, even though you knew you hadn't offered a very confident view of yourself, cornered by three boys older than you in the middle of the street. The one who had prepared to unleash another kick had taken a step back, clenching his hands into tight fists, as if afraid of the consequences. But before you could even begin to get up, ready to run away, the one who had positioned himself on the opposite wall had slowly approached you, a crooked smile painting his face.

‘Do you actually believe her?’ he had muttered, crouching down in front of you, his venomous breath slipping fear into your bones, grabbing your hair so he could pull you face to face with him.

‘Why would Vander waste his time with someone like you?’ he had uttered, his eyes flashing with rage. You had dropped your gaze, trying to look away from him, wondering if you were paying for a crime someone else had committed, if the hatred in his eyes was really directed at you, who hadn't done anything, or if you were just the wrong person at the worst time.

‘I,’ you had stuttered, and the curve in his lips had widened, ’I'm not...’

‘Do you genuinely think he would come to save you?’ he had insisted, tightening his grip on your hair, forcing you to look at him, and you had closed your eyes angrily, the emptiness in your chest cracking at his words, seeping doubt into your heart. ‘I don't think so.’

You had held your breath, expecting to receive a final strike, for the three of them to retaliate against you, but his crouching body had tensed over yours as the shop door had burst open, his blonde hair caressing his neck. Your chest had deflated, knowing that a stranger would not prevent the attack from getting worse, and you had simply waited for him to leave.

‘Well, I do,’ the man had murmured, and you had turned your head to look at him, surprised that he had intervened. The light from Benzo's had spilled onto the cobblestone floor above his large figure, his shadow lengthening over when he had stepped forward. ‘Leave the girl alone, Deck.’

The breath had caught in your throat, shooting a flash of pain into your ribs. No one had ever stood up for you. You had narrowed your eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but had only been able to hear the disbelieving snort of the boy in front of you as he addressed the stranger.

‘Do you really know her, Vander?’

You had then opened your eyes wide, Deck's annoyance a reflection of the surprise in your gaze, but you had remained silent. Whatever happened would be your fault, simply for tempting fate in such a way.

‘Does it really matter?’ he had replied, all darkness and gravelly voice, and you had seen him pull a match from his pocket, lighting it with a quick flick against the wall, the fire illuminating his rugged features. He had rested the pipe between his lips as Deck decided what decision to make, and you had heard him let out a soft hum as the blond had raised his hand in a quick gesture, releasing you to the floor.

You had leaned your head against the wall, protecting yourself, as the boy had hovered over you to get up. You had expected one last punch, a warning for the next time he found you and Vander wasn't around. But he had done nothing, walking away with his friends in the shadows of the streets. Then you had clutched your hands to your chest, letting a faint whimper slide down your throat, sobbing, and you had rested a hand on the cold stones of the ground to try to get up.

But then the pain had shot up through your abdomen like an electrified circuit, your legs failing under your own weight, and you had collapsed to the ground. You had thought it was not worth staying, not when the consequences of daring to involve Vander could be worse than what you had already received, but he had stood beside you, his gaze lost in the distance, waiting for them to be gone for good.

‘Thank you,’ you had murmured, taking a breath of air. Perhaps sweet words would soften him in case he decided to punish you in some way for mentioning his name.

The whisper of your voice had seemed to bring him back to reality, his body turning towards you, and he had made the attempt to move closer, stopping short when he saw the way your body was pressed against the wall behind you, completely tense. He had withdrawn his pipe from his mouth, the smoke spiralling upwards, and frowned. If you hadn't been so busy running away, you would have been able to make out the glint of insecurity in his gaze.

‘Hey, little one,’ he had uttered, advancing towards you in short, painfully slow steps, as if confronting a wounded animal, ’I'm not going to hurt you.’

You had looked up, your cheeks broken in tears, your shoulders shaking, and you had seen the way his eyebrows had risen in a convex curve, his lips pulling into a coy smile that had been intended to soothe you. And then you'd felt his hand on your arm, his palm sliding its rough calluses against your skin, and you'd frozen, pausing for a moment before remembering that it was Vander. Vander. If your mother trusted him —and she trusted very few people— you could afford to put your faith in him until he proved to you that you could trust him too.

‘You don't have to worry,’ you had told him, huddling against the cool surface of the wall, trying to muster a smile that would keep him from asking too many questions.

‘You sound like it's not the first time this happens,’ he had observed, crouching down in front of you, pushing your long hair away from in front of your face so that he could assess your injuries.

The absence of a reply had been your response, and answer enough to his assumptions. Of course it had happened before, hence why they felt so comfortable attacking you in such a public place. It had happened before, to a lesser extent. Before, in dark alleys. Before, maybe starting with a slap. And with each time you had offered no resistance the harassment had continued, more times, more pressure, more pain.

‘Come here,’ he had sighed, leaving the pipe between his lips and sliding his hand down your back, under your knees, to take you in his arms. You had let him lift you up, your hair cascading, and sighed against his chest, resting your cheek with your eyes closed. At least you would have enjoyed a quiet moment before you had to find a place to spend the night, the brothel doors closed to you until your mother finished with all the customers who came in asking for her.

You had been forbidden to disturb her, because if the Madam lost money, no matter how young you were, it would be you who would have to take her place to compensate for the absence of income.

But then you'd realised that Vander had been walking back towards Benzo's shop, and you'd frowned at the dull light of the lamps left on over the counter. You'd felt his flexed arms straining to keep you from falling as you'd started to squirm, ignoring the phantom fists that had pounded all over your body, ‘Easy, easy, kid.’

‘Vander?’ you'd heard Benzo, appearing behind the front desk with a grease-filled cloth in his hands, ‘I thought you'd already left. Who...?’

‘Deck and a couple of boys were harassing this little girl,’ Vander had explained, leaving you sitting on the stained surface of the counter, his hands gentle but firm on your shoulders to keep you from running away, and you'd winced when you'd heard Benzo mutter your name in surprise.

And then Vander had repeated it, looking at you, and you'd felt too vulnerable.

‘’M not little,' you'd muttered, deflating, crossing your arms over your chest with a stubborn snort, “and I'm fine.”

‘You're certainly not okay,’ Vander had replied, and you'd known his heart had decided to protect you against all odds in the way he'd uttered it, as if rage was consuming him. ‘And it's not the first time this has happened.’

‘Does your mother know about this?’ Benzo had asked you, pulling out a clean rag from under the counter, grabbing one of his bottles of alcohol. You had slid your gaze around the shop instead of answering, knowing that Ekko had to be somewhere, eavesdropping. You hadn't wanted him to see you like this.

‘What do you know about her?’ Vander had asked, setting the pipe down next to the bottle before taking the cloth in his hands and wetting it, making an effort to remain calm as he ran the fabric over your bruised skin, the cool air of his gentle breaths soothing the stinging of the wound slightly.

‘She's Raven's daughter,’ the shop owner had replied, and you had shuddered under the weight of his words.

‘Raven,’ Vander had repeated, and you had raised your eyes at the tone of his voice, far from the lust that used to accompany your mother's name every time someone said it. It held a past, just as it had done with Benzo when you had revealed to him who you were.

‘She was the one who told me to call for you if I needed help,’ you had hastened to add, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Vander's gaze had softened as he listened to you, nodding absently, ‘Of course she told you.’

You'd watched him relax his shoulders, his gaze fogged with memories, as he'd bent down to continue cleaning the cuts on your face, his hand resting on your cheek, his rag a caress on your skin, and you caught every movement, wishing you could replicate the care with which he'd treated you if you ever needed to treat someone's wounds. Then he had instructed you to pull your shirt up a little so he could assess the bruises on your ribs, without touching you at any point, and he had remained respectful even as he moved to place a bandage over the injury to your knee, trying not to tear the starred fishnet stockings you had put on that morning.

‘Your mom's right, you know?’ he had announced, once he had finished, his thumb undoing the dry trails your tears had left on your cheeks. ‘If you're ever in danger, you can come to me.’

His eyes had met yours in the grim glow of the room, the shadows on his face heavy on his skin, and you had flashed a mischievous smile, lighting up your dry lips. The whisper of Vander's name, the hound of the underworld, had roamed the filthy streets of your city like a hungry predator, and even reverberated between the sinful mouths of the prostitutes you had grown up with, but it had never sounded better than when it had left your lips that night. Loud, broken, crying out for help. Reflecting a desperation you felt in every bone, knowing it could save you from a doomed fate.

And no one had pronounced yours better than he had, stopping at every letter, giving it the attention you had never received. He had fixed something deeply flawed in you, proving that you weren't alone in that cursed city. After that night, your mother had never feared for you again. Vander had sworn to protect you, inviting you to the back of his bar when his kids weren't home to teach you how to defend yourself. And the next time someone had threatened to try to assault you, you'd been the first to punch.

It had not been hard, because Vander was a great fighter. And his adopted children had helped him develop the patience necessary to be a good teacher. Throughout your time with him, the whispers of his name had become quieter, dimming his legendary reputation and turning him more cautious. Sevika had told you it had been the riots he had led, the suffering he had seen in the eyes of his children for the consequences he had provoked. Perhaps you did not remember what the city had been before him, but the enforcers' apprehension towards the inhabitants of Zaun was proof enough that the fine line that had once existed between Piltover and the underground had begun to dissipate.

Especially after the unsuccessful incursion that Vi and the rest had pulled off the day before.

You had felt guilty, at first, worry lurking in the shadows as soon as they had failed to show up at the appointed time. And the emptiness in your chest had grown by the minute, uncertainty eating you alive, as you tried to keep your hands busy to avoid conjuring up dire possibilities. Then you had been flooded with relief, seeing them appear, all four seemingly well. And after the tense conversation with Vander, before Vi distracted you with her kisses, you had felt confused, a swirl of uneasiness growing inside you.

Even that morning, when you woke up, you were still restless. You had awakened to the soothing weight of Vi's sleeping body draped over yours, Powder finishing one of her projects in absolute silence in the bed next beside you. It had to be late, though it was hard to tell with the permanent ashen sky over the city, but the day before they had returned so full of adrenaline that they hadn't realised how tired they were until they had collapsed onto their mattresses. It was only natural, after such an intense day, that you had woken up at lunchtime.

You had carefully slipped out from under the covers, leaning on the edge of the bed to do a little stretching for your ankle. You'd been doing it for almost three weeks, but that morning was the first time that rolling your foot backwards hadn't made it stutter in pain, and your heart leapt in your chest at the realisation. It probably had something to do with the fact that you'd spent most of the day sitting, not really moving much, though you hated having to agree with Vander on that one.

Nevertheless, when Vi had proposed spending the afternoon in the abandoned basement you had turned into your meeting place, a couple of streets away from The Last Drop, you couldn't help but ask to join them. And Vi couldn't help but agree, giving in to your pout. With the cane Vander had made for you under one arm, and Claggor providing support under the other, you had walked steadily over the cobblestone streets of the undercity, making your way into the large playroom.

Vi had gone straight to her boxing ground, her body restless with pent-up energy and the need to always be ready to defend you all, and the rest of you had scattered around the room, looking for something to entertain yourselves with. You had let Claggor help you practise fencing footwork, slowly and surely, so as not to lose practice while you were injured. At least until you realised that Powder had taken refuge among the cables and mechanisms of the firing field, and then you hopped up on the counter to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Watching Powder shoot was always a delight, especially after a cocky Mylo didn't hit a single one, and you loved to referee. You had considered shooting as a valid method of defence when your first few weeks of boxing training had left your knuckles raw and too slow to heal, so you weren't bad at it. And although you had never stopped boxing —your name was written next to Vi's on the leaderboard— you had eventually developed a taste for sword fighting. Wooden or bronze swords, of course, because no one really trusted a sixteen-year-old girl with a weapon.

Just as the gun you held in your hands, checking that no one had tampered with its mechanism, had blank ammunition, fun enough to practice with but completely harmless. Thanks to Powder's colourful dyes, the only problem was how long it took for the paint stain to come out if you were shot.

‘Remind me why we bother with this dump,’ uttered Mylo, checking the gun as soon as you handed it back to him while curving your lips into an enigmatic smile, knowing that he was wary of your nimble hands.

‘Vander said to lay low,’ Vi replied, and you looked her way at the sound of her voice, swinging your legs from the table that separated the shooting field from the rest of the room. She was at the other end, in front of the boxing machine you had helped her fix a few years ago, and she paused her punches for a moment to respond, wiping the sweat from her brow with the outside of her forearm. ‘Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any.’

You nodded, forming a gesture of concern, but glanced behind the table to check on Powder. Her blue hair was moving to the rhythm of a tune that played only in her head, giving the finishing touches to the machinery that made the dummies on the shooting field move on simple rails, all of them painted menacingly and fluorescently by her, and you didn't bother to stifle a smile as you realised how quickly she was learning all the tricks you were teaching her.

‘Oh, what's the matter, Mylo?’ you heard Claggor say behind you. ‘You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?’

You glanced quickly towards him, wanting to know his answer, a chuckle slipping quietly from your throat, and you widened your smile as you saw him frown, clearly feeling attacked, ‘Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing.’

‘Suure,’ you muttered, scrunching up your nose playfully, resting your hands on the table and leaning back slightly.

‘It's true!’ he tried to defend himself, pointing his threatening finger at you. But before you could answer him, ready to start one of your teasing wars, Powder leapt to his feet, the cables of the mechanism in her hands.

With a sharp gaze fixed on Mylo, a wolfish grin curving her lips, she connected the ends, the lights going out behind her back once the greenish substance that started the game ran along the connected wires. You raised your hand as soon as she slid past you to stand next to Mylo, and Powder high-fived you enthusiastically, letting out a small giggle as you said, ‘That's my girl!

You turned slightly, watching the different figures glow in the shadows, and narrowed your eyes, focusing on all the targets. You weren't sure if Mylo would be able to hit any of them, but it was going to be difficult. Powder had been fiddling with the setup system so she could increase the difficulty level because she was getting better and better at it. Sometimes she would come to you on the rooftop of The Last Drop, where you usually hung out with your girlfriend, to ask your advice when she reached a point where she didn't know how to proceed. And you would always hold her hand and tell her everything you knew.

You had no idea how fast the game was set that afternoon, but you knew you were going to have a good time. You pulled your legs up onto the counter, crossing them so you could massage your ankle absentmindedly, and you didn't see Mylo getting ready to shoot. The first sound caught you by surprise, startling you, and you saw the pink ball of ammunition pass by the target without even brushing it.

‘You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?’ mumbled Vi, and suddenly all your attention was focused on her, who had finished her boxing session and was taking off her gloves in an exasperated gesture.

‘Are you kidding?’ replied Mylo, his eyes riveted on the fluorescent dolls, and you didn't get to witness him continuing to shoot relentlessly, though you did hear him. ‘Maybe just don't take Powder next time.’

You couldn't even roll your eyes at his words, the satisfied hum of Claggor letting you know that, as you'd hoped, Mylo hadn't hit a single one. You stared at Vi, at the way her chest rose and fell after hitting the hard cushions of the boxing machine for so long, the perspiration covering the edges of her shirt, the unsure gleam in her eyes.

You heard Powder take Mylo's position in front of the firing area, you felt the warmth of her body next to yours as she prepared to shoot, and you heard every breathy sound she let escape between her lips before each bullet, but you didn't need to look at her. She wasn't going to miss. She never did. Mylo provided her with enough motivation not to.

What worried you was that the night before Vi hadn't wanted to tell you how she really felt. She never kept anything from you —you were both open books to each other. But you knew that the conversation she'd had with her father had awakened something in her. Something dormant, of course, because Vi had always felt that fire inside her when it came to protecting her people, but something you couldn't quite put your finger on. And that, added to the certain consequences the explosion had been caused in Piltover, kept you anxious about what the future would bring.

You rested a hand on Powder's shoulder as soon as she finished, a proud smile tugging at your lips as she looked up at you with satisfaction shining in her eyes, and you planted a kiss on her forehead under Mylo's bitter gaze, who had to put up with Claggor's teasing remarks. And as soon as Powder ran to the slot machine leaning against the wall, you jumped down, ignoring the two boys to walk slowly towards your girlfriend.

You rested your arms on the banister that separated the area where the boxing machine was located from the rest of the room, smiling softly at her, and reached out a hand to slide it down her forearm. Her eyes turned gentle under your attention, intertwining her fingers with yours, and you fixed your gaze on the bandages around her wrists and knuckles, trying to fix those spots where they had come loose with your other hand. Vi crouched down beside you to make your job easier, and sighed heavily.

‘We'll talk, right?’ you asked, your tone calm and collected. You weren't accusing her, you simply wanted to know that everything was okay.

But her reply was drowned out by the sound of shattering glass, your eyes widening, and you turned hurriedly as the glass that had held up for so many years shattered into pieces, a man's body slamming through it. He ended up unconscious a few steps away from you, while a group of Enforcers glared at you, analysing you with disdain, from the street. You all stood for a few seconds in complete silence, paralysed, until you heard the low, menacing voice of one of the topside cops announce, ‘Search them’.

It took you a heartbeat to cross the room, as fast as your ankle would allow, and position yourself in front of Powder with one hand resting on her arm. They advanced slowly, the glass cracking under their boots, while you raised your hands. They had nothing on your friends, it was impossible. They were simply making a routine round, asking easy questions, in case anyone knew anything about the explosion at Piltover. If you lied, calmly resisting their provocations, they would be gone in no time, and you could go home.

‘Go ahead, idiots,’ said Mylo, looking up and down at the Enforcer in front of him. ‘We got nothing.’

And then it all happened too fast. You didn't see Vi gesture to Claggor, but you knew it was she who had instructed him to pull the lever. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, the fluorescent colours glowing from the shooting range dummies and the monkey doodle Powder had designed years ago and painted in the floor the only illumination, and Powder grabbed your hand to help you slide over the counter, both of you fleeing between the dummies.

You had no idea if the others were following you, to look back being too risky, just that you did your best to grind your teeth every time you stepped on your run and your ankle twitched to the side that hurt the most. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt a hand on your spine, and you stifled a scream, but Powder let go of your hand, sprinting towards the back door, and you let yourself be caught in his arms when you realised it was Claggor at your back.

Mylo was on the other side, running after Powder to get outside, and as you looked back you saw Vi close the door behind her and block it with your cane. You threw your arms around Claggor's shoulders to make yourself as small as possible, easying the task of running with you down the alley, and you all followed Vi, trusting that she would know which way to disappear. But then she stopped dead in her tracks, the suddenness of it causing you to fall to the ground, when she saw two Enforcers attacking a citizen. They stopped too, looking at you, and you felt Mylo's hands on your shoulders, helping you to your feet, as they ran to you. You saw the panic in Vi's eyes as you made eye contact with her.

You had screwed up. Big time.

The silence of the street was interrupted by your quickened breaths, but also by a loud whistling sound that drew your attention upwards. An old metal ladder creaked towards you as you heard Ekko mutter an ‘Over here!’ and you only had time to process his presence when Vi grabbed your hips and propelled you upwards. You clung on as best you could, scrambling upwards, grabbing Ekko's hand to pull yourself onto the wooden bridge that spanned between two houses, and stood beside him to help pull the rest up.

Mylo grabbed your arm, jumping to your side and pulling Ekko by the shoulders to run away, Claggor following soon after. Your heart stopped when you saw one of the Enforcers trying to climb after Powder, and you grabbed Vi at full speed so the kid could get to safety.

You paused for a moment once Vi had broken the ladder, preventing them from following you, taking a deep breath in the great pipes that connected Zaun's poorer neighbourhoods, and you held on to the wall, limping, as Powder walked alongside his sister. They had been discovered. The Piltover police now knew that it was four children from the undercity who had allegedly caused the explosion, and they were not going to stop until they had them punished. You had to tell Vander, and that was perhaps what scared you the most.

If an adult had to know about it, things's were getting way too serious.

The Last Drop was usually packed on any given weeknight, the music playing muffled under the constant murmur of conversation, and Vander always behind the bar, serving beer to all his customers. That night there were many more people, but the walls of the bar wailed in the silence that permeated the atmosphere, broken only by the cold voice of Sevika, who seemed to be holding back her temper.

‘We should hit them back,’ she said, leaving a loud thump on the wooden table. ‘We've got the numbers to beat them.’

Before her words, many of the attendees at the impromptu meeting Vander had organised murmured their approval, ‘Yeah! Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!’

You, leaning in the shadows, always relegated to the sidelines with the rest of the kids, listened with your heart in your mouth, knowing that the tension in the air went far beyond the occasional dispute that Vander had to resolve. Youall had confessed everything that had happened as soon as you arrived at the place, Vander's eyes shadowed by what you said, and he had no choice but to announce it to the rest of the Lanes' inhabitants.

Now he was leaning against the counter, on the wrong side of it, and Benzo was standing next to him, folding his arms, as serious as the bar owner. He pulled a match from his pocket, as you had seen him do countless times since you had met him, and lit his pipe calmly, creating anticipation among those around him.

‘You sure that's what you want?’ he asked, the smoke spiralling through the air, knowing what answer he was going to get. ‘We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended.’

It had been a long time ago, when the streets had whispered his name in awe. Your mother had ended up telling you the story.

‘You're just protecting your kids,’ protested a man you didn't know, frowning. And it hurt you to hear it, because you knew it was partly true.

‘I'm protecting our people,’ he replied, quickly, stoking his pipe as if he meant to attack someone. ‘I'd do the same for any of you,’ he continued, looking around at the rest of those present. ‘We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over, we just need to stand together’.

‘The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground,’ Sevika interjected, anger trembling in her voice, ’would not be afraid to fight.’

Vander took two steps towards her, standing face to face, ‘Do I look afraid?’

‘No,’ she replied, calm but menacing, ‘you look weak.’

Without waiting for an answer, she whistled, the sound attracting the attention of her people, and turned around, her coat floating behind her, some of those beside her following her outside. You sighed, knowing that Sevika was the only one who could dare stand up to Vander, and crossed your arms, leaning against the back wall. The conversation would die once she was no longer willing to fuel it.

‘Why isn't he doing anything?’ muttered Claggor, looking almost apologetic.

‘We kicked the Enforcers‘ butts with just the four of us,’ Powder replied, angrily, her scowl making her look even more adorable than usual. ‘Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do.’

‘Jeez, even Powder wants to fight,’ exclaimed Mylo, opening the door leading down into the hall.

‘So why aren't we?’ protested Vi, exasperated.

You remained silent, as did Ekko, leaning against your arm, and sighed again. Claggor followed Mylo once he went downstairs to lie on the couch. You put your arm around Ekko's shoulders, caressing his hair, and noticed how unusually quiet he had been. Vi also noticed, raising an eyebrow in his direction, ‘Spill it Ekko’.

‘Huh, oh, okay,’ he stammered, and it made you frown. You knew Ekko was an expert at finding out secrets, but often conversations between adults made little sense to you. It was rare that he had any information about Piltover at all. ‘Well, um, Vander's got a deal with the Enforcers.’

‘What deal?’ you asked, exchanging a glance with Vi.

But Ekko shrugged.

You sighed a third time, drawing a smile from both of them, and ended up laughing too, covering your mouth with one hand. It was wrong to look so happy when something so serious had just happened just a few feet away, but it was also a way of dealing with it. Your heart was pounding as if you were on the edge of a cliff, on the verge of an event that could turn out to be catastrophic, but you just wanted a moment of peace.

You pulled your pocket watch out of your waistcoat as Ekko walked past you to meet Powder downstairs, and checked the time. You knew that if no client showed up unannounced, your mother would have a free moment in a few minutes. You hadn't been in the brothel for almost three days, so it could be a good time to stop by and stay for a bit.

You looked at Vi, deciding what to do next.

‘I might sleep over at my Mom's tonight,’ you commented, pouting.

She nodded, taking your hands in hers, ‘We'll be fine.’

‘I know,’ you replied, moving closer to her and leaving a fleeting kiss on her lips. ‘They're always safe with you.’

She kissed you back in the shadows, burying her bandaged hand in your hair, and stifled an annoyed huff when she had to pull away from you. She leaned her forehead against yours, biting her lip, and then let you go, disappearing up the stairs. They could do with a rest, you knew. Better a quiet night, and face the problems the next day.

You walked through the streets of Zaun, hair hastily pulled back in a bun, but at a slow pace, when you left the bar. You tried to rotate your ankle every few steps, grimacing when it hurt but determined to make the effort to walk without limping. When you reached the entrance to The Gilded Lily you dodged some drunken clients, sneaking up the stairs until you reached your mother's room. You kept your ear to the door, listening for any sound that might indicate you couldn't stay there.

When only your mother's sweet voice sounded, humming a made-up melody, and you knew she was alone, you tapped the surface of the door twice before stepping inside. Your mother's gaze lit up as she recognised you, rising from her vanity chair to hug you, ‘Hi, baby!’

‘Hi, Mom,’ you smiled back, taking refuge in her arms.

‘Did you come to get those pieces you left behind last week?’ she asked, after kissing your cheek and sitting back down, taking the lipstick stick between her slender fingers.

‘What pieces?’ you asked, and frowned as you followed the direction she pointed as she continued to prepare herself, wiggling her fingers absently.

Your mother's wardrobe. Raven was one of the prostitutes who got the most clients —the one who made Madam win more money among her girls— and that had earned her some privileges at the brothel. In addition to being able to raise you, to allow you to grow up in her room and not have anyone complain when they had to take care of you, she was also allowed to have the only room with a built-in wardrobe in the building, apart from the owner's. When you were little, you used to hide there quite often. Since you couldn't fit anymore, you only kept your clothes and a big box with projects you were working on.

But you didn't remember leaving any behind the last time you spent the night there.

You opened the heavy doors, and it felt like getting another hug from your mother. All the clothes she had stuffed in there, with exotic silk kimonos, long linen dresses and velvety nightgowns, smelled like the cheap fruity cologne you had once gotten her on the black market in town, and then kept getting because she had loved it. You smiled when you saw the chaos of fabrics jumbled among all the shelves, and bent down to open the drawer where you kept your things.

Inside was a jumble of metal, tools, multiple loose papers with drafts of diagrams and a complex mechanism wrapped in a rag. Your eyes widened in surprise when you remembered that you had indeed left the invention hidden there, and you pulled it out at full speed, sitting cross-legged on the floor and checking what you had left to do the last time. You didn't notice the way your mother was looking at you through the mirror, admiring the way you were working, so focused on the gears in your hands.

You didn't even notice the clock hand ticking, too focused on the artefact you had designed a few months ago, changing parts you thought you had misplaced, modifying data in the designs you had spread out on the floor. You became again the child you had once been, hiding in your mother's wardrobe with heavy headphones that isolated any noise from the outside, oblivious to reality. Since you had met Vander's children, you had kept most of your gadgets in the workshop they had let you keep in their house, but going back to work on the floor of your mother's room felt like coming home.

You remained in that state of abstraction until you felt your mother's lips pressed against your temple in a warm kiss.

‘Imma go downstairs, baby,’ she said, and you just nodded.

She was going to have a quiet night, then. Whenever Raven appeared downstairs it was always to relax and flirt with curious first or second-time visitors to The Gilded Lily, too shy to wander into one of the upstairs rooms. You were glad. As your mother got older she didn't lose beauty, let alone charm, but she got much more tired. She deserved more time to rest.

You remained working on the small portable radio until your back began to complain, and you had to get up to stretch a little.

And then you heard it. A soft, stifled sound coming from the window. You frowned, leaving the device on the cloth it had been wrapped in, and walked across the room. Of the two panes of glazed glass that served as shutters, one could not be opened because you had nailed it against the frame years ago, so that you could place a made up air-purifier box on that side of the sill and allow your mother to get cleaner air from outside.

As you opened the other, however, and looked down, you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend's pink hair camouflaged under her hood, ready to throw another pebble to get your attention. You smiled at the sight of her, motioned for her to wait there, and crossed the carpet as quickly as you could. You paused for a moment as you reached the door, and retraced your steps to pick up the almost finished radio and tuck it into one of the pockets of your cargo trousers, but you headed back out into the hallway, descending the stairs of the brothel by sliding down the banister, as you had done so often when you were younger.

As soon as you stepped onto the street you walked the few metres between the entrance and the alley around the corner, and walked towards Vi with a smile tugging at your lips. She had been leaning against the wall, her hands in the pockets of her slacks, but she pulled them out to wrap them around your hips as soon as she had you close enough.

‘You couldn't wait until tomorrow to see me, couldn't you, pretty girl?’ you asked, grinning against her lips.

‘I wanted to see you before I went to sleep,’ she whispered, her gaze downcast, her fingers playing with your belt buckles.

‘Hey, did something happen?’ you asked, worry swirling in your chest, sliding your hands up to cup her cheeks, your thumbs caressing her freckled skin.

‘The enforcers came,’ she replied, her muffled voice sending shivers down your spine.

‘My God,’ your hands tightened against her face, and you frowned. ‘Are you all okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, nothing bad happened,’ she said, trying to reassure you. ‘Vander managed to warn us in time for us to hide.’

But her explanation failed to calm you in the slightest. Vi looked pale, almost sickly, as if whatever had happened had scared her to death. You felt the nervous twitch of her fingers at the waistband of your trousers, fiddling with the fabric almost anxiously, and a void opened ravenously in your throat. You didn't like seeing her like that. It was unnatural, not being able to enjoy her jokes and her teasing remarks, that the gleam in her eyes didn't greet you when you looked at her, and that her stiff shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of a responsibility that wasn't hers.

‘Listen,’ you began, trying to make eye contact with her, ’we'll be alright, okay?’

‘I know, I promised,’ she replied, leaning against the touch of your palm.

‘I already know we'll be alright,’ you added, stubbornly. ‘What I mean is, it'll all pass. We'll go on with our lives as before, because the enforcers will get tired of looking around, and we'll hide great, yeah? I can promise you that.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Uh-huh,’ you nodded, memorising every detail of her face. ‘I'll find a place to hide Powder, and I'll help her practise to make her little bombs work. I'll show her what I do to make my inventions work. And I'll tie Mylo to a chair so he doesn't screw up anything. I wouldn't worry so much about Claggor. And you can come to the roof of the Lily, and do some boxing with me. We'll steal food from Madam.’

‘Wow, you've got it all figured out, huh?’ she finally smiled, sighing.

‘You know I'll always want you to have the option of stepping back when it all gets too much,’ you whispered to her.

‘I know,’ he replied, leaning her forehead against yours. ‘I'm glad I have you. I'm glad Powder has you.’

‘Don't be silly, I'll never leave you’ you replied, shaking your head slightly, your eyes closed. ‘Besides, Powder has you, she doesn't really need me.’

‘Pow-Pow's my little sister,’ she explained, her breath brushing against your skin, ‘she needs the other girl in the group so she can have some time away from me. She adores you, I'm glad she has that.’

‘Well, I know for a fact she looks up to you a lot, so...’ you replied, sliding your head down to rest on her shoulder, remaining hugged against the brothel wall. ‘She still needs you. She will always need you.’

Silence swirled around you, and you felt a soft hum exhaled between Vi's lips.

‘Besides, I'm working on a radio that will allow us to spy on the enforcers,’ you announced, leaning in.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you confirmed, pulling it out of your pocket. It was a small metal box, which fit in your hand. ‘Wait until I press the button and say something nice.’

You connected the two loose wires, and the radio started up with a soft buzz. You frowned as you tried to remember which was the button that recorded and which was the one that played back, and finally pressed the one you had painted blue. Both were buttons you had taken from your mother's old clothes, and Vi smiled as she realised. You nudged her arm to get her to start talking.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she whispered, and you covered your mouth with your hand so she wouldn't see you blush. ‘You'll always be my girl.’

You stopped recording, shaking your head, but didn't say a word, pressing the second button. Vi's voice echoed between you, somewhat canned, repeating word for word what she had just said. When you looked up, Vi already had her eyes on you, delighted.

‘This is awesome, cupcake,’ she murmured, her voice watery.

‘Oh, don't be like that,’ you reproached, checking the device. ‘It still needs improvement.’

‘You're a genius,’ she attacked again, sliding her hands up and down your back.

You put the radio back in your pocket, embarrassed.

‘You could add it to the mechanical crow you have at home,’ she proposed, clinging to you, ‘so you could spy even more closely, and no one would notice.’’

You opened your eyes wide in amazement, and patted her on the shoulder, ‘That is genius!’

Her giggles echoed through the alley, and you swooned against her body, ‘I need to write that down as soon as possible,’ you said, dead serious, ‘I'll stop by The Last Drop tomorrow to see if it would be possible to implement the radio into the design I have done.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she repeated, and you grabbed her by the the collar of her sleeveless hoodie, bringing your lips together in a kiss.

‘I love you too, pretty girl,’ you replied, pulling away from her. And then you added, a little louder, just to tease, ‘I love youu, Violet!’

You kissed her goodbye with another peck, resting your hand on the wall behind her head, and let her lips move over yours, hungrily, for a few more minutes. But when Vi moved her leg between yours, her mouth sliding down your neck, and your heart began to pound in your throat, you decided to stop once more.

‘You should go get some rest, Vi, baby,’ you whispered, your breath hitching.

‘I love you,’ she whispered again, and you melted against her, ’I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘I love you too, my love,’ you sighed, as she parted her lips from your skin, ’but it's getting late.’

You felt her hand slide down your abdomen, up to your chest, and you held your breath. But she simply pulled your pocket watch out of its pocket, glancing at the time. Her shoulders tensed again, leaving the watch in your hand, and she murmured a soft, ‘Yeah, it's pretty late.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ you whispered, taking a step back.

She made an affirmative noise, peeling away from the wall, and you turned to head back to the brothel. With your girlfriend's voice stored in your radio, you climbed the stairs, adrenaline coursing through your system, barely aware of the pain in your ankle, and dropped to the floor as soon as you reached your mother's room, picking up a blank sheet of paper to begin designing a new model of your robot.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that your heart began to race again, when Raven came in quietly, and you were startled by her stealth.

‘What did you go out for?’ she asked you, taking off her black lace jacket.

‘Oh, Vi came to see me,’ you replied, pausing your pencil over the paper. Your mother knew who she was and what relationship you had, you weren't worried about what she could say.

‘That's weird,’ she uttered, your heartbeat quickening in your mouth, ‘she usually never comes. I thought something bad had happened.’

And then your heart stopped for a moment. Something bad had happened. The enforcers had discovered them. But Vi's gaze had remained opaque the whole time she'd been with you, and though it had seemed to you that she was still frightened by what had happened, perhaps you'd misinterpreted it. You knew those grey eyes better than you knew yourself. She had been scared about what was going to happen.

‘Do you think she would do something foolish to protect her family?’ you asked your mother.

‘Oh, baby,’ she murmured, a drop of sadness spilling over her face, ’she'd do anything to make sure you're okay, just like you would for her.’

You closed your eyes for a moment, frowning, angry that you hadn't noticed sooner.

When you opened them, you stood up and walked out of The Gilded Lily, determined to find Vi.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky

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charles-leclerizz · 10 months ago

Text

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette

🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)

🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic

🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat

“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”

Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”

“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.

You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.

“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”

“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.

“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”

“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”

“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”

You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.

Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.

“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”

You yelped when he bit your neck.

“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.

“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.

Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”

“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.

“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.

You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.

“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.

“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.

You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.

“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.

You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.

“Babe?” he tried once.

“Babe?” He tried again.

“Babe?”

You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.

That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.

“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”

By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”

“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.

Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”

You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”

The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.

“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.

He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”

You ended up taking the pista.

But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.

“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-

“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.

You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”

“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“

You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.

Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.

Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.

Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.

“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.

Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”

You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.

“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.

The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.

Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.

“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.

“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.

Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.

“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.

“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.

A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.

“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”

“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.

After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.

“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.

Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.

“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.

“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.

“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.

“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.

You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”

“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.

“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”

“So, Max?”

The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.

“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”

Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.

A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”

“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”

Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”

Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.

Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?

Geliefde - Love [r]

Heer, red mij - Lord, save me

BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

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