#actually speaking of i bet house would do that to some patients too if it proved his diagnosis of whatever

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) wilson in pre-rut and still working but it being more and more obvious to the ducklings (who are not in tune with his cycle like that freak house is, thanks) because he starts following house around more than usual, sometimes even getting physically closer to him when it's not necessary (and house lets him most of the time too. not all the time though. if he gets especially annoyed he'll snip at him and wilson backs off with his head ducked which is..... atypical pre-rut alpha behavior but also their friendship is atypical so whatever)

it's so bad sometimes they even catch wilson smiling while he pretends not to notice while house steals his wallet so he can empty out the vending machine for his favorite snacks. later when they're alone in house's office, house pulls out a couple bags of wilson's favorites he got while he was raiding the machine and tosses them over. the look on wilson's face is so dopey that house can't help but snicker and tell him to put in his notice of leave for his cycle soon because he is really swimming in it now

[luis-serra-kennedy]

homewrecker Luis preview (the "home" he's wrecking was already a toxic dumpster fire before he got involved)

Luis starts leaving, but something makes him stop dead in his tracks and spin around to stride right up to Leon's desk.

“I have to try,” Luis mutters, under his breath. Then he puts his hands on the desk and looks right into Leon's eyes as he speaks louder. “Fais l'amour avec moi.”

“I don't speak Spanish.”

“That was actually French,” Luis seems a little amused by Leon's mistake, but doesn't laugh in his face. “Spanish is my native tongue, but I spent some time in France, it's good to mix things up sometimes.”

“Whatever. Just speak English or get out of here so I can do my job.”

“Fais l'amour avec moi,” Luis repeats. “Make love with me.”

“Oh my god,” This is far from the most forward anyone's been with him, but for some reason it still makes his whole face heat up and he looks down at the desk, away from Luis's warm gray eyes. But then he's looking at Luis's nice hands, staring at the rings decorating a couple of his fingers. “My boyfriend wouldn't like that.”

“Well, where is he? Your boyfriend. I don't see him, he home, in a back room..?”

“He's in South America on some stupid boy's trip with his friends,” Why isn't Leon just telling Luis he doesn't want to sleep with him? “I wasn't allowed to go because apparently it's just for boys, not ‘pretty boys’ and I would ruin their manly vibe.”

“That's stupid, pretty boys are the best, you're beautiful, it's crazy to make you stay home. But I suppose I shouldn't complain, you're here and he isn't, so… What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I bet I can get you off better than he ever has,” Leon's resolve is crumbling, and unfortunately it seems like Luis noticed. “Please. Your boyfriend is having fun in South America without you, don't you think it's only fair for you to have some fun without him?”

Maybe there is a god looking out for him, because the phone rings and saves him from trying to answer Luis. He hoped Luis would just get bored and give up and go find someone else to hit on, but he's unfortunately persistent. He stands back and patiently waits while Leon takes the call and writes down the time slot the caller wanted.

As soon as he puts the phone down, Luis is back at his desk. “If you don't want this, just tell me. Tell me no. But I need to hear it from you. All you've said is that your boyfriend wouldn't like this, but what about you? Does Leon want to have some fun?”

“I can't just sleep with you right now, I have a job. Maybe if you're still here in a couple hours when my shift ends.”

“I have all the time in the world for you.”

Luis sits down on the couch and makes it 15 minutes, fidgeting and bouncing his leg, before getting impatient and getting up and leaving. Leon finds himself oddly offended. The guy was clearly desperate to sleep with Leon and claimed to have all the time in the world, but couldn't even make it 20 minutes? He's also disappointed and relieved in equal measures. He was into the concept of sex with someone who wasn't strong enough to leave him covered in bruises the next morning, but Krauser will kill him if he gets back and finds out Leon was cheating on him.

Nope. Luis comes right back in and gets back on the couch, now with a book to read while he waits. Luis never struck him as all that intellectual, but apparently there is more to him than meets the eye. He looks up occasionally to check on the clock and, when he catches Leon's eye, winks. The second Leon's shift ends, Luis jumps back up and rushes back to Leon's desk, grinning.

“So where are we doing this?” Luis asks, way too casually for someone who's asking a person to cheat on their long-term partner. “My car? Recording booth?”

Leon almost yells at him to try to be a little discreet, but everyone has left, so there's no real reason to. “Have you ever heard of these cool things called houses that are private and have beds?”

“I don't have a house or a bed, I have a couch. A couch in the living room that belongs to the girl I broke up with three days ago. She's been nice enough to not kick me out thus far, but if I bring home a man to sleep with, I'll be getting thrown out.”

“Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm about to cheat on my boyfriend with a bum,” And yet he has no desire to back out of this, even after learning Luis Serra is an even bigger loser than he suspected. “I guess we can go back to my place… But you're doing laundry and vacuuming the whole place after. I'm dead if he gets home from his trip and finds dark hair in my bed.”

[easy-revenge]

hey!! idk if tumblr ate my ask, the himeno brainrot has faded or if you just didn’t feel like it (which is so valid lmao no worries) but i would love to hear your headcanons for her!! xx

hiii so sorry !! i actually started answering ur ask when i was on vacation a couple weeks back and then i didnt have enough ideas and put it in my drafts....and to no one's surprise i forgot about it lmao so thank u for reminding me !!

also i can't NOT have himeno brainrot atp don't worry heheh

however im afraid I won't deliver too much on this bc instead of like individual headcanons ive mostly just filled in the blanks that canon left with my own things (often self-indulgent) and made up a life for himeno which i now basically treat as canon lmao (yes this is delusion central)

i will attempt this though but fair warning that a lot of the behaviors and things i associate with her aren't very wholesome or a jolly good time (i suffer daily with this brain)

(cw for mentions of addiction and a lil bit of drugs, i promise it gets more lighthearted after the first few ones lmao)

so, starting off strong, I don't think himeno spends a lot of her time sober. namely, i headcanon her almost always running on some kind of buzz. i think it's established that she handles her liquor well so i dont think it would be noticeable at work, but considering she trained under kishibe for a long time, i can see her having a flask of her own and sipping at it throughout the day.

in the same spirit, i think she would also take any opportunity to properly get wasted. friday nights with aki at her apartment, outings with the people from work etc, especially if she doesn't have work in the morning. i think maybe she believes she's more fun to be around when drunk.

i don't think these behaviors are about entertainment, but rather a way she's found to be more "functional" and able to keep doing what she does and uphold the carefree persona she's established, hence incorporating them into her life to the point of very rarely being stone cold sober.

i think she also doesn't like the idea of her family knowing about how she copes. maybe she doesn't answer her father's phonecalls sometimes, scared of sounding too noticeably drunk at noon on a tuesday. or she's often stressed about her sister's occasional surprise visits in case she comes over and finds himeno's place in disarray and her in a similar state.

apart from alcohol, which is basically canon, i once had a thought about himeno occasionally abusing pills. pain meds prescribed for recovering from a work injury hitting just right paired with some beer on the side one evening and boom yk. i bet it wouldn't be too hard for her, considering her line of work, to get her hands on opioids regularly enough, especially since the story is set in the 90s and doctors used to prescribe them left and right before the amount of patients getting dependent skyrocketed.

to complete the holy trinity of vices, again based on things mentioned in canon, i think himeno is also the type of person to sleep around a lot with distraction being the objective. she has a reputation for getting flirty and handsy with ppl from public safety when drunk and i think that speaks for itself. this is not inherently a vice ofc, but in her case I don't think she engages in this behavior being sound of mind. it almost never happens when she's sober and i headcanon her often regretting it at least briefly the next day.

oof that was a lot lmao. um chill anyways, on a lighter note i have a couple thoughts about her relationship with aki !!

i think it's a habit for them to take care of each other's injuries after missions. im actually writing a fic about aki showing up at himeno's doorstep, bleeding and expecting to be taken care of in his own begrudging, stuck up way lmao. i think himeno is less likely to straight up go to his house for that, but i see them leaving public safety and going home together to shower and bandage their wounds in companionable silence.

additionally to that whole thing, i personally do believe that their relationship could've had a non-platonic side to it, albeit still casual in its nature. leaving that aside, i think they share quite a bit of affection and physical touch regardless, considering how casually we see them invading each other's personal space in canon. so i think they sleep in the same bed a lot, after tending to each other's wounds, or getting too drunk in himeno's living room. i think it took a while for aki to stop being tense and relax into it, but they settled into a comfortable zone and it was sth they both needed more than they would ever admit.

fujimoto once talked about himeno and said that she is the type to leave a lot of her stuff behind at aki's place and u better believe i ran with it. clothes, hair brushes, a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, you can't change my mind. i also think that to some extent it goes both ways. himeno has a shitload of aki's tupperware at her place, from all the food he brings her weekly, and she never washes them unless aki comes over to do it himself and by the time he decides to take some back, there's always more. black hair ties are often littered in her bathroom cabinets and on one of her night stands. a book on her windowsill that aki brought to read before bed once and then never took home.

not to get dark again, but talking about them is bound to make me sad sooner or later :) based on the way she thinks about aki's death in canon, i think she would often panic when thinking about aki's shrivelling lifespan, especially at the beginning when aki had a lot of years to spare and surely used the sword more freely. i imagine her being restless in her bed with aki sleeping next to her, feeling compelled to check on his breathing or his pulse. reach over and touch his hand to feel him alive and warm, hoping it would soothe her to sleep.

i also think she's there a lot of the times aki cries. i bet the first time she saw him was accidental, or at least not a conscious decision on aki's part. i also bet himeno didn't really know what to think of it initially, but soon looked at aki under a different light bc of it. i think aki finds comfort in himeno being in the same room as the tears spill from his eyes after a day of watching people die. and i think himeno loves giving him that, even though it tugs at her chest in uncomfortable ways she can't quite point out.

i feel compelled to but i won't go into the whole being in love with aki situation, because first of all its not even a headcanon but very much there and secondly i will ramble indefinitely about how i think her pining for him would manifest and this is already a huge post god bless

on a slightly different note before i bring this to a close, i like thinking about her bond with kishibe a lot as well. it's not shown enough in the anime or manga, but i imagine them being friends. i think they would go out for drinks but more to talk than get wasted. i think they'd have the capacity to talk about very real things but also nothing at all. kishibe might be the only person himeno talks to properly about aki, aside from her letters to her sister, because he shares the same life as her and inevitably has more space tl understand. maybe kishibe gets to talk a bit about quanxi too.

haha oh well :D that's all i have for now. if u read this far thank you and also im sorry lmao. hadn't sat down to microwave himeno like this in a hot minute i loved getting the opportunity to do it so thanks for the ask anon !! till next time ~

[moemoemammon]

Ok. I need to get this idea out to someone. Solomon and mc are messing with potions for class and he accidentally gives mc a “youth” potion that makes you look younger. It turns mc into like a 4 year old for like a couple of days. What do you think would be the demon brothers (any) reaction to babysitting their master? What would they do? Idk i think it would be a little funny.

You’ve Gotta Be KIDding me, MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

He'll be exchanging words with that sorcerer bastard later. You can bet on that.

Lucifer doesn't take kindly to the idea of MC having run ins with magic in general, but at least this seems to be on the tamer side of the magical spectrum. And he had to admit, it's sort of amusing.

He intentionally watches you try to handle things on your own. Be it reaching for things too high up, stubbornly carrying things too heavy for your tiny arms, or making messes when you try to tidy up, Lucifer waits patiently until you ask for help (or until he can't take it anymore).

Treats you like he always does, despite your size. He doesn't talk to you like a child, or try to force toys and nap times onto you, but may or may not tease you when it's only the two of you. After all, you may look like a child, but that doesn't mean you are one. It's still funny to harass you a little, though.

"As independent as you may be, please refrain from trying to climb up onto the counter. If you need something, ask one of my brothers, or myself. If that isn't obvious enough, perhaps a 'time-out' is in order?"

Mammon

When Mammon recovers from laughing for twenty minutes, (and also making threats on Solomon's life) he then decides to take a billion pictures of you. Now calls you 'munchkin' and variations of it.

And if you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he is now. You're ACTUALLY helpless and vulnerable. I mean, you'd hardly make an appetizer for a random demon! So Mammon's gotta keep an eye on you. Maybe even a toddler leash-

Unintentionally treats you like an actual child. His older brother mode kicks in, and he finds himself taking care of you as naturally as breathing. Mammon? Being responsible?? It's more likely than you think.

He hands you a cup of juice before you can say 'I'm thirsty'. He'll slide over some sliced up fruits before your stomach has a chance to growl. You're tired? No kidding. That's why he's got a blanket and pillow on the sofa for you.

"Where do ya think you're goin', short stack? Nowhere without ME, that's where! I already told ya, if there's somethin' ya need, just tell me!" "Huh? I'm spoilin' ya too much? S-so what if I am?!"

Levi

Solomon came in with a child in tow that looked a hell of a lot like MC, and this man nearly had a heart attack. There's no way... did those two have a secret love child?! Th-that's just-!! Oh, it's only MC.

WAIT A MINUTE...TH-THIS IS....! ISNT THIS JUST LIKE 'DETECTIVE C*NAN'? Uwaaah... Just look at you! You're still just as smart as before, but you've become super small! Talk about the ultimate gap moe!!!

Levi isn't a big fan of the idea of tiny, sticky hands touching his things, so he's glad you've still got your normal brainpower. That being said, he finds himself talking to you normally. Maybe even easier than before!

It kinda throws him off that you guys can't do the things you'd normally do together. Your fingers don't have their usual dexterity so playing games is a challenge, and your attention span is a little shorter so these TSL marathons are killing you. But have no fear, Levi knows a ton of other things you could do together! He won't let something like this spoil his time with his dear Henry!

"If you can't use the controller, let's try something that doesn't need one! I've got a new Ruri Hana VR game with REAL motion and voice tracking! If you say the spells out loud, you'll cast them in game! Ah, and it auto-adjusts to the player's height, so there's nothing to worry about!"

Satan

HES DOING HIS BEST NOT TO LAUGH. SATAN WILL HANDLE THIS WITH POISE AND GRACE, BUT MAN....

Watching you struggle to enter the House of Lamentation in your oversized RAD uniform nearly sent him to the stratosphere. He inhaled tea when you almost tripped over your blazer and had to get a couple of slaps on the back from Asmo.

Does his best to find a cure for your 'little' problem, but the most that can be done is waiting it out. In the meantime, would you like him to read you a story? Large books are probably difficult on your tiny hands.

Constantly catches himself treating you like a tot. He's not trying to, but he can't help himself when he sees your round eyes staring up at him, or when he watches you try to climb up onto an armchair.

"Up we go- There. It must be hard for you, having to climb up into the chairs like that. I've got a stool if you'd like to use it? Though, I don't mind if you sit on my lap, too." "Hm? I'm embarrassing you? I-I didn't realize how overzealous I was being. Ehem...."

Asmo

Oh that Solomon and his silly spells and potions, always making trouble! It's just one of his many charm points! And seeing as there are no permanent consequences from this harmless mishap, Asmo's enjoying it to the fullest.

Can you blame him? You're SOOOO cute~! So tiny and adorable! Why would've know that was possible?? Look this way, MC! He wants to take some pictures of you! Lowkey uses you as a photo op prop

He used to work part time at a daycare, you know? Asmo's great with kids! But that also means he's treating you like one. There's personalized snacks, cute little nicknames, and he's already gone and bought you a week's worth of clothes. Nobody tell him it'll only last a day-

He can be a little annoying with the baby talk and all the little activities he's planned for you, but you can tell he's enjoying himself.

"MC, look~! I've got plenty of ribbons to decorate your hair with! I'll let you choose your favorites, and then we can set out in town!" "Hm? Where are we going? To the playground, silly! You must be dying for a play date after being stuck in this dreary house all day, right?"

Beel

He was kinda teetering between whether or not he should throw Solomon across the yard like a football when he saw him carrying a teeny MC, but all was forgiven when he learned it was an accident.

Has now designated himself the permanent MC carrier. Your feet will never touch the ground so long as you're a child. And it's no problem for the likes of Beel, when you're as light as a feather! That makes him a little more conscious about being careful with you though-

Be it piggybacking or carrying you in his arms, he hasn't released you since he's spotted you. And don't think he's forgotten about feeding you. Beel's also taken your meal prep upon himself. You'll prefer things that've easy to eat, right? Though it kills gum to give you smaller portions than usual.... it feels cruel...

Somewhere between babying you and treating you as usual. He speaks normally to you as he always does, but prioritizes your needs over everything else. He wants to make sure you're well taken care of until this potion wears off.

"You're sure you've had enough to eat? I know I gave you a snack earlier, but... to think you really can't eat as much as before.. I'll talk to Solomon again. It must be torture to have such a tiny stomach, I'll do my best to get you back to normal."

Belphie

There's obvious opportunity here, and Belphegor won't let it go to waste. (No not for murder)

He's getting a kick about your new mini mode. How's the weather down there? Do you need him to pick you up so you can reach the high shelves? Don't worry, he'll get you a sippy cup.

When the teasing has settled down, he pays attention to a more pressing matter: you're now the perfect side for cuddling. You're a living hot water bottle, not too big, not too small, tiny and soft and adorable. Er, he won't mention that last part though.

Anyway, Belphie thinks a little kid like you should go on and take a nap now. It's exhausting having such short legs and wandering around the house all day, right? He gets it. You look tired and he knows the solution.

"Ah, you're just as cozy as I thought you'd be... Though, it feels kind of weird holding you like this. It's like holding a stuffed animal, but you're not nearly as cute." "Pfft, what's that face for? Sorry, sorry, I was only teasing."

[wordsfromthesol]

The Interview: The Sequel

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @togasbetch @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Requested: @the-house-of-auditore-frye Word Count: 1,378

Part One

The reality of the situation slowly began to set in. Everything seemed to hit you at once, just as you slung your leg over his motorcycle. Your entire body went stiff as you sat in silence for the entire ride. You didn't even question where you were going. The haze cleared from your eyes just as Dick pulled into the familiar building. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed where you were.

**

Dick could tell the kidnapping jolted you more than you wanted to admit. He didn't bother going to your apartment, and you didn't say a word as he led you inside his. Almost an hour had gone by, the two of you sat on the couch watching some mindless tv show. Dick was beginning to worry.

"Y/N, are you sure you're okay? They didn't hurt you?" His eyes desperately searched yours.

"I just…I don't want to be alone tonight." You mumbled as you buried your head into his shoulder.

Dick acknowledged your request by pulling you further into his arms. It was there you fell asleep.

**

This nonsense had been going on for three months. Every time you met up with Dick, there seemed to be swarms of paparazzi. Why did they even care about some Gotham playboy? Wasn't there a better celebrity to stalk? You let out a frustrated sigh as you saw someone photographing you walking into your office building. As if on cue, your phone began to ring.

"Dick, what a surprise…"

"Uh…did I do something?" Dick was clearly not expecting to hear the agitation in your voice so early in the morning.

"Yeah, an interview." You couldn't hold back the sarcasm.

"Right, about that. Bruce is having a charity gala this weekend. Can you make it?"

A smirk spread across your face, "One condition. You gotta tell your family about this little ruse."

"What? Why?" Dick seemed almost disheartened at your request.

"I may have made a bet. With Tim. And this situation is going to make it seem like I've lost. When I totally have not." You tried not to get into the specifics of the bet. It didn’t matter.

"You made a bet that you wouldn't date me?!" Dick figured it out anyways. Guess it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"Do we have a deal or not?" This was not a conversation you wanted to have right now.

"Fine…" Dick huffed out, clearly annoyed.

**

Everything appeared to be going smoothly, you were making your rounds and talking to everyone of importance. Yet something was gnawing at you. All these girls, they just threw themselves at Dick. You were pretty sure you even saw one of them trip another just so they would get there first. Watching the show, you lost track of just exactly how many glasses of wine you had drunk.

"Shit" you mumbled to yourself. Stumbling over to a table, you sat in the corner brooding over the whole ordeal. Thankfully, Tim soon joined you.

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could you blurted out, "I didn't lose! Dick told you, right?!"

Tim burst into a fit of laughter, "Don't worry, he told me. But may I remind you, there's still 6 months left before that 3-year mark." He looked you up and down before turning his gaze towards his older brother, "I'm not worried."

Your mouth hung open. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh nothing…" Tim hummed to himself. Before he could tease you further Dick walked up and enveloped your hand with his.  

"Let's get out of here." His eyes were locked onto yours, not even acknowledging Tim's presence. All you could do was nod. As you rose from your seat, Dick wrapped his arm around you.

"Thanks," you whispered in his ear as he led the two of you to safety.

**

Only two months left, you thought as you walked into the office. You didn't understand why, but you knew this fake dating thing needed to end. After all, how were you actually supposed to date someone? Dick had to understand, right? It’s not like he actually wanted to date you after all.

However, all your thoughts of ending this fake relationship were gone by the end of the day. The office drama was absolutely abhorrent and to top it off you were reprimanded for not meeting a project deadline.  Needless to say, it had been a long day and you needed your best friend. So once the clock struck 5, you headed out towards Dick's apartment. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he swung the door open to greet you.

"You aren't allowed to be this happy if I'm in a shitty mood." You retorted as you pushed past him and sat on the couch. "Wine please," you pleaded with a huff.

"Aw, and why are you so grumpy my little sunshine?" Dick questioned as he sauntered into the kitchen to oblige your request. Dick listened patiently as you ranted about your day until it was time for him to go on patrol. "Alright, I'm headed out. Don't leave too late and don't forget to lock the doors."

"Okay dad…" The sarcasm dripped from your words as you rolled your eyes.

Dick’s eyes narrowed as he turned back towards you, "Don't act like I didn't see you leave here at 3 am last week." You simply stuck your tongue out in response.

It was just past 4 when Dick crawled in through the window. Beaten and battered, his face lit up when he saw you asleep on the couch. He carefully scooped you up and placed you in the bed before he hopped in the shower.

You awoke to the sound of the water turning off. Shit. I fell asleep. Quietly, you pulled the covers back and slung your legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't you fucking dare." The stern words had come from the bathroom. "It's 4:30 in the morning. You can sleep here, I'll take the couch."

You knew protesting would get you nowhere and frankly you were too tired to go home. "Fine. But don't be ridiculous, there's plenty of room." You curled up in the comfort of the blankets. "Besides," a yawn interrupted the thought, "you're exhausted and probably bruised."  

**

"Tim, I don't think I can keep doing this…" Dick thought about you fast asleep in the next room.

"I told you it was a stupid idea to begin with." Tim scoffed at his brother's easily avoidable dilemma.

"It just slipped out, what was I supposed to do?!"

"How many alternatives you want?"

"Okay well I couldn't think of any at the time." Dick unsuccessfully tried to validate the decision once again.

"That's because you want it to be true. I saw how you looked at her at the gala last month."

"You just want to win your bet." Even Dick knew that wasn't true, but he continued grasping at straws.

"If that's what you think. Either way, you can't keep this up forever you need to tell --" Dick quickly hung up the phone as he saw you standing in the doorway.

"Was that Tim?" You tried to remember the bits of the conversation you had just overheard.

"Uh…yeah. Just talking about…a case."

"You know, given your alter ego, I feel like you should be better at lying. First the interview, now this."

"Wha--lying?" Dick was clamming up. It was as if you had some imaginary hold on him.

"Dick?" You raised your eyebrows and waited for the truth to grace his lips.

"Fine. I can't. I can't do this anymore. This fake shit." Dick ran his hand through his hair as he collapsed on the couch. "I don't want it to be fake." The sentence knocked the wind from your lungs. You never thought that was an option.

"How long?" Those were the only words you could get your mouth to form.

"Since the day I met you." Dick tried to bury his head in his hands, but you forced his gaze to meet yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of deception. It felt like time had stopped. Finally, the world sped up again as your lips crashed into his. 

[hoodieofholland]

Prove you something // Mob!Tom Smut

Summary: you get jealous over a meeting Tom have with another woman without your knowledge, and he has to prove you something.

Pairing: mob!tom x reader

Word count: ~4.5K

Warnings: smut (18+), fingering (f.), oral (f.), language.

A/n: I’m a sucker for mob!Tom, judge me, but these last contents we’ve been receiving for the past month are the blame. here we go again, enjoy.

Masterlist

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

As a mob, Tom had to deal with a lot of different people throughout his busy day. You were used to the meetings all the time, even when it was past afternoon, hiting the midnight. Patiently, you'd wait your turn to share some good time with your boyfriend, unless he wanted you to stay for the day, besides him, in the conference room.

Today was slightly different. Tom was held for hours in the conference room, talking business, while you distracted yourself with some other work. But by the time it was around 7p.m., you were bored enough to walk up the place, wanting to know when he'd be over.

Wearing your favorite pyjamas, you walked through the silent house, and just as approaching the conference room, you heard an unusual type of voice.

"Listen, Tom, I'm not here to discuss the shitty situation..."

It got your attention, made you stop in your tracks to hear better, all because it was a female voice. Normally, Tom would always meet with men, them being the mob leaders around London. Not a woman.

You tried to sneak around and see if there were another voice in the room, but as soon as you put your ear to the door's thick wood, Harrison came up behind your figure, making you jump.

"Holy shit!" You screamed in whispers. "Jesus, Harrison, you scared the hell out of me!"

Harrison didn't make any effort to cover his laughter, making you shush him.

"Sneaking around, uh?" He teased through laughters. "You know what Tom says about listening behind closed doors. Someday it might come back to you".

Trying to contain your madness, you cross your arms around your chest and snort. "It's meant for you guys, you idiot. He's not talking about his girlfriend".

"Are you really sure?", still holding his teasing smile, he tilts his head a little. Eyeing the door again, he pouted. "Why didn't he invite you tonight, then?"

"Said it was some small business and wouldn't take that long". You shrugged, though you knew it was bullshit. Tom had already been inside that fucking room for what seemed forever. It wasn't any small business talk, for what it matters.

"I can tell you that there's not small talking inside there" he pointed his chin in the room's direction. "Melissa is right there".

A little confused, but still not wanting to give your feelings away, you stay cool with your voice. "Who is Melissa?"

Harrison’s eyes narrowed and you can tell he had no idea you didn’t know about a single thing that was going on inside there.

“Melissa. The majoriest woman in this whole fucking city. She’s, like, the only female mobster leader in England”. The emphasis in his voice made you feel the message he wanted to deliver. You felt even somewhat a little weak, as if the weight of the presence of that woman could be sensed in your lungs.

Harrison quirked a brow, waiting for your answer, but you didn’t say nothing. Why was Tom lying to you? Why he didn’t want you to know that this woman was right inside the room with him?

“Is he alone there?” You questioned Haz, who shakes his head negatively.

“No, I was there a couple of minutes ago. Just grabbing a cup of tea”. He lifted the mug on his hand. “There’s also her guard or something. The chick is a bit... ugh”

You felt the weight again. “What the fuck does ugh means?!”

Harrison was about to explain, but seeing your exasperated reaction, he just smiled teasingly again. “I think someone is jealous”.

You puffed your cheeks out in frustration, wanting to tug on your hair, or maybe on Harrison’s.

“You’re being ridiculous” you tried your best to sound neutral about the fact that your boyfriend was inside a not very large room with a woman you didn’t know nothing about, but it was getting harder as Harrison seemed like having some fun torturing you.

“Don’t worry, y/n, that’s not what I meant” he chuckled softly and gave you a apologetic smile. “It’s just business, that’s all. You know Tom is far from being suspicious”.

You knew that very well, and if you were being honest, that was not your concern. That didn’t make you less jealous, though. Tom was the most faithful man you knew, not only with you, but with his mates. He could do anything for you and he surely had already proved that you’re the only woman in his life.

Anyways, the thought of that powerful woman inside the fucking room was driving you mad.

“I wanna go inside”, you stated, already turning on your heels. Harrison was quick to grab your wrist, trying to stop you from entering the room.

“Y/n, what the fuck, he doesn’t want to-“

But you were too fast. Yanking the door open, you hear a slight gasp coming from Harrison and the entire room goes silent.

The first thing you notice is Tom, who were crudely interrupted by you. He looked tense with the conversation, eyes heavy, shoulders rigid. His elbow was supported by the large desk in front of his chair, while he seemed to gesticulate with his hand whilst talking to the woman, Melissa. His gaze was directed on you, a questioning look on his features, which didn’t softened like it always did when he talked to you.

“Sorry, I told her-“ Harrison was quick to say, but Tom interrupted him.

“What took you so long?” Ignoring your presence, without changing a single word with you, Tom averted his eyes to Harrison, who came out behind you and sat back at his chair.

“She wanted to come” he answered quietly, unsure of what to say.

Tom looked at you once more, face serious, as he seemed to calculate what say next.

“Why don’t you go wait in the living room, y/n?”

You open your mouth, just to close it again immediately. You didn’t recognize the way Tom was talking to you, almost harshly.

"What, Thomas? You don't enjoy a good woman's company? C'mon, let the girl sit with us" Melissa, who you just had the worry to look at said, putting her long polished nails over her chin. She eyed you up and down before speaking again. "What a beautiful girl you have, by the way. You didn't tell me she was all of that".

Tom closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenching, as he sighed heavily in frustration. You knew he was getting mad, and though you still didn't know why, you made up your mind.

"I'm fine, gonna wait in the room. Sorry for-"

"It's alright", he shook his head and looked back to Melissa. "It was good talking to you, but I need time to figure it out before we decide anything", Tom stood up from his chair and waited until the woman did the same. "I'm going to have a talk with my men and then I call you back".

Melissa smiled, but you could see very clearly that it was nothing but a false smile. "I'll keep in touch".

Tom just nodded once and waited for Melissa to walk out of the room, guided by Harrison, who was equally tense as he made his way to the door. Before she exited the room, Melissa had an eye on you again, a tiny smile making its presence on her face.

You shivered, too aware of the dangerous and power Harrison told you she held, clear in the way she wasn't afraid to show she was staring at you.

When the doors were closed, you couldn't lift your gaze from the floor. However, it was possible to see Tom by the corner of your eyes and the way he was supporting both of his hands on the desk, staring so intently at you that you bet he could see your goosebumps.

"Now that you have my attention", he started, voice deep. "Won't you say what was so important that you couldn't wait 'til I was over?"

You didn't say anything, neither looked at him, frozen on your spot.

"I'm talking to you".

His stern act had you conflicted. He would always use it in bed with you, but never got so mad at something that you did. Something that you didn't even know what was all about.

"You were taking too long, so I wanted to see if everything was alright", you answered, keeping your voice loud and clear enough, not wanting to give him the impression that you were intimidated by his words.

Tom snorted. "That's bullshit. I've already been out until later than this and you stayed in our room".

You roll your eyes, voice cheating you as the irritation consumes your thoughts. "Well, in these nights you weren't with a girl inside here".

Tom's face changed and a brow arched as a trace of a smirk made its way to his face. You had lost your though posture and you knew it.

"Are you jealous?" He chuckles, incredulous, "Really?"

You snort, unfolding your arms. Looking relaxed is the last thing you seem to be able to do right now, but also you didn't want to sound so immature being jealous over nothing.

"No, I am not. I'm just mad that... that you didn't tell me who you were meeting with." You corrected him, though you were too aware it was pretty much a lie. With an unwanted whine, you continue "And why you didn't let me in this time? You see, you just left a whole amount of suspicious things to my imagination."

Tom narrows his eyes, a mix of curiosity and confusion evident on his face.

"You don't actually believe it yourself, do you?" He questioned, a suspicious tone in his voice. A bit ashamed, you glanced down and nodded two times.

"I mean, Harrison just told me she's the biggest woman in London, or some shit like that" you shrugged involuntarily and felt tired, as you started to realise how silly you must be sounding.

It was pretty obvious to you that none of that should matter. Actually, it never did. Tom never turned his head to another woman but you, since you met. He never talked about any other girl than you, and you could tell he bragged about how much of a "lucky motherfucker" he was, as Harrison started complaining about Tom's random rambling just the other day.

Tom had done nothing but adored you since the first time he called you darling. And now you were overreacting because of a common meeting of his.

Tom sighed heavily and offered you his hand. Looking at it for one second, you reach for him, and he brings you closer. "That's probably my fault".

You tilt your head, not understanding his point. Tom sits down back on his chair e mention for you to take a seat on his thigh.

"Don't get me wrong, darling. I let you come to meetings only if I'm one hundred percent sure there's no harm on that. When I'm with friends, not my enemies" he caress two slender fingers through your cheek and you almost close your eyes in please, if it wasn't for his deep stare, full of concern and comprehension. "That woman is nothing but trouble for me and my men. She doesn't like us, I don't like her, but, apparently, one of my man messed up with one of her best one, so I was trying to settle everything down before one of us start a fucking fight about it. Obviously, she hates me and every single one of my mates, and that's why I didn't want you here today. My most important job is to keep you safe, y/n. I've already dragged you too far into this mess, I can't expose you even more."

By the look in his eyes, anyone could tell how Tom meant it. He worried about you and your protection had become a topic of discussions too much for your liking.

He shifts his position, making it more comfortable for you, hand resting in your cheek. His expression earned an even more stern look, almost in pain as he looked deeper in your eyes.

"Do you really think that you should worry about Melissa?" He asks, voice low and soft.

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you tugged at his white plain shirt's collar, breathing slowly as you tried to manifest more of your composure than before.

"A little" you confess, shrugging slightly as if it wasn't that big of a deal. But for Tom, it surely was.

"Darling... why would you be jealous over that woman?" The pad of his index finger touched in the slightest move your bottom lip, tracing delicate paths over it. "Why would you ever be jealous over any woman? You know I love you". He looked up once again, a brow arching as he seemed to doubt his own conviction. "Don't you know?"

You shake your head yes and bite your lip. "Of course I do".

"Then why did you have something in your imagination?"

You sigh quietly. "Yeah, it was silly", taking his free hand and in yours, you play with his fingers, trying to hide your embarrassment. "I'm sorry-"

"It's alright, love", he gives you a small yet sweet smile. "You see, I get jealous all the time. Much more than you do. Think it's fair enough".

You giggle. "Yes, you do. I hate that and did the same. Sorry".

Tom shakes his head and brings his face closer to yours, planting a soft kiss in the corner of your mouth. "What a silly little girl you are. How would you ever think I'd ever have eyes for another girl, when I've got the prettiest with me?"

You release a breathe, your grip at Tom's shirt stronger, pulling him closer. "You'd be really dumb if you did, yeah."

Tom smiles in your mouth and you do as well. "Guess I haven't been showing my girl how much I appreciate her properly lately" he whispers, heading his lips along your jaw, to chase a soft spot on your neck. "Tell me, love, would you like to feel it?" His low and seductive words sent a shiver right through your spine, making you release a quiet moan in anticipation.

"Do you want to feel how much I adore you?" He breaths in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, as carefully grabs your thighs to get you to straddle his lap. "How much I adore your pretty little moans and whines? Those wonderful sounds you make just for me?"

You nod yes, adjusting your position on Tom's lap, rubbing against his crotch on accident and feeling he grunt with the contact.

"Use your words, my love. Need to hear you". He insists, running both his hands to your ass, grabbing each cheek firmly. When you whine a timid 'yes', he smirks against your smooth skin. "Always so eager for me", with precise movements, he guides your hips to meet his, creating a perfect friction between both of you. You could feel his hard against your pulsing center, claiming for more.

Tom lets out a struggled sigh, as if he was holding himself back when feeling your center pressing against him. "See? Only you can make me this hard".

You gulp, trying to catch your breath as your hands make its way to his trousers, but Tom is quick to deny it and stop you. "No, pretty girl. As much as I'm aching to feel you right now, I need to prove you something" he smirks playfully. His right hand releases your bum and goes to your front, making a smooth path in his way to your breast. He put your hard nipples between two fingers, pulling it softly. You moan and move your hips over his lap. Tom's jaw tenses up. "Fuck, darling". He presses his hand firmly on your hip to settle you down, as you smile apologetic.

"Need you, Tom". You whine, arching your back so you were even closer to him.

"Yeah?" He smirks, hand going back to work, sliding inside your pyjamas' short. Tom's brows arch in surprise. "No panties?"

You bite your lip. "When I came down here, I was thinking that maybe we could do something. After you were done".

He chuckled a bit, his cocky smile showing off. "So you were planning on getting fucked in my office?" You only nod once, feeling your center pulse and your cheek heat up. "You dirty, dirty girl".

Tom reaches your pulsing core, a single digit sliding through your wet folds. "God, baby, you're so wet". You moan, letting your weight loose on top of Tom, whose strong arms could handle it. "I barely touched you".

"Stop teasing me, Tom" you claim, eyes closed, as you feel he was threatening to enter two fingers inside you, but collecting them all together again.

"Darling, I think you shouldn't have a word about anything today" he says calmly. "After all, you interrupted my meeting, messed my work up. All because you couldn't wait to get fucked. Do you think you were good, y/n?"

You swallow hard, voice trembling. "N-no".

Tom smiles satisfied. "Yes. Now, though you don't deserve any of that, I'm a man of my word, and I said I was going to show you what my girl is worth of". He gesticulates briefly and you have to take a few seconds to understand he wants you to get up.

You do so, waiting until he gets up too. Confused, you stare at him, who cups your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I want you to sit in my chair". He murmurs and you can't help the surprise in your face.

"Why's that?" You frown and he only gestures his head to the chair again. With no other choice, you find yourself doing as you were told.

It was a strange feeling, the soft material of his chair against the bare skin of your exposed leg, where your thin shorts couldn't reach. Strange, because nobody would ever sit on Tom's chair. It wasn't exactly a rule, but everyone did better than risking taking what was his, and that being the biggest and most imposing chair in the conference room, only he could sit there. And maybe that's what entertained him that moment, the sight of you in a place that held so much power as that chair.

It took a good few seconds for you to relax there, and Tom didn't take his eyes from you the whole time. Staring, he would lick his lips, arms crossed over his chest, making his muscular arms very visible for you.

"You know, you could do this. I can picture you sitting here, making demands", he says, as if he was deep in thoughts moments ago, approaching you with hungry eyes. He puts his hands over the chairs' arm rest and lean in you, smiling.

You feel your heart race and try to correct your breathing. "Really?" You arch a brow incredulously. "Don't think I could be so tough".

"You learn this with time, darling", he reassures you, "But I think we'd have to manage who'd be in charge from time to time. I can share it with you, but not give it all. Would you like that?" You knew that by this time he wasn't talking about the mob.

With a charming smile, Tom gets down on both knees and puts his hands in yours. "Yeah, I think", you say in a whisper, too concentrated in his actions to say otherwise or anything else.

"Mmm. You're such a delicate angel", he opens your legs slowly, grabbing the back of your knee to pull you in to him. You gasp in surprise, holding the arm rest to keep yourself steady. "I imagine how you'd look like taking control. Perfect, I know".

It was a sight to see, a powerful man like Tom on his knees, a position you never thought you'd see him at. He looked like he was at your mercy, under your control, just as if he was there to please you, though he still did take the command.

"Tom, please", you whine, not giving a care about sounding desperate anymore.

"Patient, my love. Wanna take my sweet time with you", he pats your leg so you can lift your hips to help him take off your shorts. "Cause that's what I appreciate doing with you. Take every single part of you, make you mine. Slowly". He brings you closer and you pant when he kisses the inner of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours. "Take care of my girl, as she deserves".

You feel yourself growing anxious as you tried to stay still when he brought his lips up to your core. "You smell so good, love. Can't wait to taste it". His lips make no hurry to reach your folds, hot breath hitting your aching center. He looks up at you, wicked smile, as his mouth hover you, teasing.

By this time, you’re already dripping, walls clenching around nothing for the expectation. Finally, you felt Tom's lips connecting with your pussy lips, skillful tongue smoothly licking your arousal, spreading it all over your core.

He put his tongue inside of you, tasting it, adoring the way you'd roll your eyes back with pleasure. "Sweet as fucking candy". He murmurs with his mouth against you, causing vibrations all over your cunt.

You moan when he flicks his tongue over your bud, and tug at his hair. The reaction comes right away and Tom moans against you, putting one of his fingers inside you, but not deep enough, waiting for you to adjust as your walls stretched deliciously. "Can feel you swallowing my finger, baby. You want me?”

"Tom", you whine, arching your back as Tom pushes his fingers deeper inside you. "Please. Gimme more".

"You want more, sweet girl?" Tom smirks, entering you as much as he could, adding a second finger to your pulsing core. You felt the cold of his silver ring against your hot skin, causing you to have goosebumps. Feeling you clench around him, Tom started fingering you, hands precisely moving to stuff you in the most raving way. He took his pace, fast enough to the sound of your wetness fill up the room.

He laps your bud once again, repeatedly, catching it between his lips once in a while and sucking, making you release a loud moan.

You tugged harder in his curls and that's when he realized you were close. "My beautiful girl is close? Can feel you clenching, baby."

You nod once, trying to catch your breath as your hips rock against his fingers. Tom took them out and you almost pulled his hair for that, but he soon replaced it with his firm tongue. "C'mon, darling, fuck yourself on my tongue".

You did so, not caring about your messed movements or your loud noises. Tom was right there, holding you hip down with one hand to keep you steady and stimulating your clit with his thumb with another. It was the most beautiful sight you could have and you were on the verge of your edge.

"You're- fuck, so fucking hot, Tom" you cry out, head falling back. "Shit! 'M close"

Tom started to fuck his tongue inside you again. Your toes curl, your belly burns and your heart couldn't beat faster. Tom grabbed the back of your legs and abruptly brought you closer to his face, keeping his tongue firm and thumb working on your bud. He replaced it with his two wet fingers for a moment, just to speak to you and coax your orgasm. “Look at you, baby, so, so beautiful when you’re coming. Fuck, wish they all could see what a pretty and dirty girl I’ve got right here, angel”.

You moan and Tom can tell you’re about to lose it, putting his tongue back to work. "That's it, love, cum on my tongue, make a sweet mess on my face".

You couldn't hold back anymore. Your whole body felt like sparkles, as you tightened your grip on Tom's hair, chest panting, muscles rigid, voice coming out as the loudest moan of your night. It’s all about you now, what you feel. Tom is right there, holding you, controlling your body squirming with his strong hands.

Tom helps you ride out your orgasm, tongue and fingers never leaving you. His noise bumped into your clit as he seemed to enjoy licking your juices, face still lost between your legs. But when you finally saw him again, you thought you could have another orgasm just from the look on his face.

"Fuck", you pant, still trying to catch your breath. "You're- you're all covered-"

Before you could even finish, Tom got up from his knees and took your face in between his hands, capturing your lips on his. The kiss was messy, clashing tongues and teeth, but it was all pleasure. You could taste yourself, take what Tom had left on his lips. It was sweet - a mix of both of you.

"You're a fucking mess right now" you tell him, a slight giggle coming out of your dry throat, wiping some of the wetness from his chin.

"I know", he smiles back at you, pecking your lips once more. He catches the fingers you used to clean his face and leads it to him mouth, sucking on them gently. "Proudly. Who else in this fucking world can have the pleasure of being a mess with your cum, eh?"

You shove his shoulders playfully and spin the chair. "Well, I think I could truly run things here. Feel very powerful now".

Tom puts his hand on the back of the chair to stop it from moving. "That's because you had me between your legs just a few seconds ago, love", he smirks "But I think we can manage that".

You get up from the chair and put your hands on the collar of his shirt, gripping it between your fingers. "Good", you look up at him, smiling devilishly. "First thing, though, I remember you were here to prove me something".

"Oh, darling" he chuckled darkly. "We surely are not finished yet".

[tenthgrove]

Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

[lxngbottom]

Can we get a part 2 to pretty flower? my soul depends on it

Pretty Flower | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville finds himself being absolutely attached to the reader after their time together.

warnings: nsfw, light clit play, mentions of sex, but nev being adorable

my soul depends on this too don’t worry

—

ever since that night with neville, everything seemed to be blurring together and changing for you. it had only been a couple of weeks, and you made no attempt to even speak to him. you were so embarrassed at what happened, and even more ashamed at the fact that you enjoyed it. after neville pleaded with you to stay, you just walked out on him, giving him no rhyme or reason.

after everything, neville felt so guilty. did he over step? oh god... what if you didn’t really want that to happen? what if he was too invasive? he wasn’t too sure, but it made him burn with sadness every time he saw you, hiding your face from him in the halls.

you definitely weren’t angry with him, you just were too shy. you felt like you had committed some sort of unforgivable act.

when you told ginny, she almost flipped the whole table over in the great hall. she wasn’t shocked at the fact that it had happened, as she assumed that neville had always fancied you, but all at the same time... you had actually agreed to it. you were no longer “innocent”. and that on its own was what got to ginny. maybe the ginger was just... baffled?

“down there?” hermione asked, skimming the row of seats in the quidditch pitch. you nodded you head as people filled in the rows.

you were at a quidditch game, more than ready to support ginny in her first real match of the year. hermione and luna had escorted you, as you were terrified to get in trouble for not sitting in your house placement. when you admitted that fact, hermione just giggled and said, “and they say i’m afraid to break the rules...”

as you three settled into the stands, you saw a familiar figure walking in your direction. your body tensed, and you quickly turned your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you.

but of course, he did notice you. he always noticed you.

“you guys saving these seats for anyone else?” neville asked politely. hermione shook her head, and he adjusted his scarf as he glanced over at you, just simply waiting for you to look back. but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you were too ashamed.

—

the quidditch match had gone great. gryffindor had taken a victory, and for some god awful reason, you had agreed to let hermione to sneak you into the gryffindor common room to celebrate.

unusual things had happened as people cheered ron on, including lavendar brown practically forcing her tongue down the ginger’s throat. this elicited a terrible reaction from hermione, and you watched as she exited the common room with teary eyes, harry following behind her. you wanted to go check on her, but honestly, you knew that harry could probably make her feel better than you could. after all, you weren’t great with handling people’s emotions.

for merlin’s sake, you couldn’t even figure out your own emotions.

here you were now, awkwardly standing in the front as students cheered lavendar and ron on for snogging. luckily, they exited soon, probably trying to find some privacy you assumed.

you knew how that went.

you gulped as the whole time you could feel neville’s lingering presence beside you, and you could hear the sound of his voice every time seamus spoke a word to him beside you.

“want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

“i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

the statements came back in flashbacks every single time you heard his voice. it made your hands shake, and your thighs press together.

“y/n?”

the voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked over to see seamus with furrowed eyebrows looking over at you,

“are you alright?”

you nodded your head awkwardly, feeling neville’s chest slightly pressing up against your back from how packed it was in the common room at the moment.

“yes... um—sorry... what did you say?”

oh god. this was so embarrassing.

“i asked if you placed your bet on weasley, today... if you didn’t, you’re probably regretting that now, huh?” he teased, shooting a playful grin your way. you laughed awkwardly, as you could still feel neville right behind you.

then, you heard dean and ginny called seamus’s name, and he shot them a questioning look.

“oi! leave y/n alone, finnigan!” ginny demanded, walking over towards you, “dean needs a word with you, seamus...”

he rolled his eyes and walked over to his best friend, and patted your shoulder as she returned to the boys.

you were now alone again, and people started to spread out in the common room, chatter of triumph still occurring. but, that feeling behind you still hadn’t faded.

“meet me in my dorm...” you heard in your ear, and you jumped slightly from the voice. he sounded so... angelic. “bunny...”

your thighs clenched from the nickname, and the fact that you could feel neville’s breath against your neck. but you didn’t dare to look back, even when his finger grazed the back of your thigh slightly. and suddenly, he was gone.

for a moment, you panicked thinking about what you should do. you still felt utterly embarrassed due to what happened just a couple weeks prior, but, you couldn’t ignore that familiar fluttery sensation in your stomach as you thought about it.

fuck it.

you waited for a few minutes before walking away, and ginny shot you a wink as you went towards the boy’s dormitory.

“just stay calm... it’s fine—it’s just neville...” you kept telling yourself as you walked up the stairs, also hoping that no one was following you.

the trip to the dorm was unfortunately much shorter than you hoped it would be, and you trembled as you knocked on the door. neville opened it automatically, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. you yelped at this, and he slammed the door behind you. he let go of you, and you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

he loomed over your figure as he approached slowly, looking you up and down.

“hi, petal...” he whispered, sending a shock through your spine,

“hi...” you replied shyly, gulping a bit. he couldn’t help but smile hearing your fragile voice again, as he had missed the simple sound of it these past two weeks.

he noticed your nervousness, and let his fingertip graze across your cheek in an attempt to soothe you, “i’ve missed you...” he cooed, “you left with no reason, darling. i’ve been worried. you haven’t spoken to me, either...”

you felt guilty at his words, but even more guilty for the reasoning.

“s-s-sorry...” you stuttered out, already knowing that he was about to ask you why, “e-embarrassed...”

embarrassed? why?

“why are you embarrassed, love?”

you didn’t know if you should exactly tell him, but you knew he deserved some sort of explanation. you could tell that he was pleading for one just by the look in his eyes.

“what—what we did...”

he frowned a bit at your reply,

“why is that embarrassing?”

you shrugged your shoulders, honestly not understanding the shame.

“it—it was bad...” you muttered, but noticed the shift in neville’s facial features, “not—not bad like that... just—i—well... i don’t know...”

he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle from you innocence, as it was somehow still in tact.

“well... is there anything i could do to make you feel less embarrassed? cause—there’s no reason to be, petal. you did—amazing.” he paused before he continued, letting his hand trail down your hip, rubbing small circles into it. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, petal.”

you looked up at him finally, your sparkling, shy eyes burning into his. your cheeks were on fire from his touch, and you knew that he knew that he had an affect on him.

“i-i-i’m sorry... i’ve just been scared to—bring it up, i suppose. d-d-don’t want to—embarrass you in front of your friends...”

neville didn’t even respond, he simply placed a small kiss on your forehead, and he sent you a small smile.

“you could never do that, petal... you’re too sweet.”

his words made you somehow blush even more, and it was getting to the point where you broke out in a sweat from how heated you were.

“but... i couldn’t help but notice that you were clenching those pretty little thighs of yours together in the common room, earlier...” now, his eyes were dark once more, that sweet boy gone within an instant, “what were you thinking about, bunny?” that’s when those same fingers that rested on your hips came trailing down, and were going up your skirt, making your breath hitch.

“y-y-you...” you responded sheepishly, only wanting to be honest with him. he chuckled, and finally, he pressed his finger up against your clothed bundle of nerves.

you gasped as he did so, “bunny... you’re soaked... how long have you been like this?” he asked teasingly, but the tone in his voice came off as if he was just pitying you.

“i-i’ve been thinking about—you... a lot... ever since—you know...” he hummed in response, letting you know that he wanted you to keep speaking, “i—i tried to—t-t-touch myself the other day... but—i don’t know. it felt... weird...”

even after everything, you were still so innocent. it drove neville absolutely mad.

“petal... you should’ve just came to me. you know i’ll take care of you.” he stated with a smirk etched across his face. his fingers kept rubbing small circles into your panties, making your breath turn shaky and uneven. “do you know how much i’ve missed you?”

you whimpered as moved your panties aside, and ran his finger through your slit,

“please...”

“please what, bunny?”

you were tired of the teasing. you had missed him so fucking much, and you just wanted him to make you feel good again. plus, you simply missed just being around him.

“touch me again. please.”

he kissed your lips softly, but still only continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

“be patient, petal. i want you to be mine before i make you feel good again...” he admitted, stroking your cheek with his free hand. “would you want that?”

you looked up at him, and could see the pure honestly and adoration in his green eyes. you had never had a boyfriend before, but you didn’t even have to give it a second thought before you nodded your head.

he sent you a genuine smile,

“good. now you’re mine and i can make you feel good whenever you want...”

[toosicktoocare]

emergency contact

pt 1 of 2 and also found on ao3!

(i promise i’m not ignoring my prompts- this idea just kinda popped into my head)

“Hi, may I speak with Mr. Evan Buckley?”

Frowning, Buck pulls the phone away from his ear. He doesn’t know the number; however, the area code is local, so he can probably rule out a scam call. At least, he thinks, the woman on the other line sounds very much real and not a robotic recording about to lead in with a cruise ship he didn’t sign up for.

“Uh, yeah. This is Buck—I mean Evan. This is Evan Buckley.” He clears his throat. He can hear a lot of background noise—a lot of muffled speaking, intercoms crackling. He’s heard it before, but he’s struggling to equate the noise to a particular memory, only having a small rock of dread burrowing low in his stomach to go by.

“Hi, Mr. Buckley. I’m Nurse Johns at LA General. I have you listed as the second emergency contact for Christopher Diaz.”

Buck’s stomach bottoms out, leaving him nauseous, weightless, and far too cold despite the LA sun beating in through his window and warming his bed. He shivers and forces himself upright in bed, muscles rigid, jaw a tense, jutted line.

“His father,” Buck starts into the phone, shaky, “Eddie—Edmundo Diaz—”

“—didn’t answer. You’re next on the list. Sir, if this is incorrect, I’ll need to move on to the next person—”

“—no!” Buck jerks to his feet, nudging abandoned clothes around with his foot until he finds a pair of gym shorts. “I’m… His father’s on a shift with the LAFD. Is Chris okay? What’s going on?” Composure, he thinks, is out the window. Then again, he’s never been capable of the whole ‘cool, calm, and collected’ thing when it comes to Chris. He snags the same shirt he tossed to the floor when he climbed into bed this morning after his 24-hour, a short-sleeved, blue shirt, and slips it over of his head, careful of his phone.

“Sir, I can’t disclose that over the phone.”

“Right,” Buck mutters, nodding more to himself. “I’m on my way now. Tell Chris—tell him Bucky’s on the way, okay?” He ends the call, taking the steps down from his loft two at a time. He’s only faintly aware that he’s shaking, and the rock of dread’s grown triple in size and sits heavily against his gut. He fumbles with his keys, pockets his wallet, and just remembers to slip on a pair of sandals. If he weren’t moving against a rush of fear, he’d take the time to give a mental ‘look who’s laughing now’ to everyone who’s made fun of the sandals in the last two months since he purchased them, but, the fear is a cold hand that’s pulling on him, disrupting his thoughts, chiseling against his composure.

He doesn’t dwell. He races out of his apartment, and in seconds, he’s in his jeep and whipping out of his parking spot. He knows LA well, knows the traffic patterns, and he’s unfortunately hitting lunch rush, which, he thinks, is probably similar to some twisted second layer of hell. He wishes, more than anything in this second, that he had an engine, that he could dominate the road with the power of a siren, but his jeep will have to suffice. Still, his grip on his steering wheel is tight, his knuckles fading white, when he hits the first of many red lights.

He uses hands-free to call Eddie, not surprised to get his voicemail after only two rings.

“Eddie! Chris is in the hospital—They didn’t give me any details, and I’m on my way now. They called you first. I’m next on the list?” Buck pauses briefly on that, gets lost in that fact, but then he shakes his head. “Look, he’s at LA General—just get there when you can, okay?”

He ends the calls, somehow feeling even worse, and then he tries Bobby. Logically, he knows that if Eddie’s not answering, Bobby probably won’t either. Still, when he’s teetering on the edge of panic, Bobby can talk him down, can ease him safely back to the present.  

“Buck?”

Buck’s foot slips a little too hard on the gas, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Bobby? Bobby! Where’s Eddie?”

“Currently? He’s probably making his way back to a second story window, hopefully with one of the victims of an expansive house fire.” A pause. “What’s going on, Buck?”

Buck peers around, swallows back a groan at the cars on every side of him. “Look, can you get Eddie to LA General ASAP?”

“You’re at LA General? Are you hurt?”

“No! I mean, I will be, but it’s not me—it’s Christopher. Bobby, I don’t…” Buck sighs, drags a free hand down his face. He can feel his lungs constricting. The pressure of panic’s a bitch.

“They didn’t say anything over the phone. They tried Eddie first, and then they called me. I’m—”

“—Buck, take a breath. I’ll get Eddie there as soon as possible. You be careful driving there, okay? Keep us updated.”

Buck comes back down to earth with a low breath that’s been trapped in his lungs. “Thanks, Bobby,” he says, and he means it, pushing his gratitude hard into the two words. The call ends, and Buck forces his focus onto the road, onto making it to the hospital in one piece because Christopher needs him.

***

Concussion.

It’s the only word Buck keeps coming back to. He’s being led down hallways that are too bright, too loud, and annoyingly familiar, and the nurse is explaining that Christopher took a tumble at school and is currently being monitored for a possible concussion. Buck nods when appropriate, offers a few non-verbal affirmatives, and then he’s stopping before two large, glass windows, and behind them, Chris is sitting in bed chatting with another nurse. His hand finds the glass, fingers spread out, anxiety spread even to his palms.

“You’re welcome to go in. We’ve told him you’re coming.”

Buck nods absently. He’s going to go in—of course, he’s going to go in. He just needs to take a single second to fully capture the image of Christopher alive and breathing in his mind, an image that can break through the muddle, clear his head, bring breath back to his lungs.

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, nodding. He turns when the nurse opens the door for him, and he wills away any and all fear etched deep in his face the second he crosses over into the room.

“Bucky!”

“Chris!” Buck’s no stranger to concussions, so though animated, he keeps his voice soft, and he walks toward the end of the bed, glancing at the clipboard. “How’re you feeling, bud?” He asks, satisfied to see that the doctor’s notes are promising.

“My head hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Buck mutters, sympathetic, and he drops onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting atop Christopher’s covered knee. “What happened?”

“Me and Caleb were playing firefighter, and I fell down a step.”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath, holds it in his lungs to brace for the familiar wave of guilt that’s soon to tangle in his breath, jab past his rib cage to his lungs. “Is that so?” He settles for, breathless, and Christopher’s face falls, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Don’t tell dad. He’ll get mad.”

“Chris—”

“—Mr. Buckley, I presume?”

Buck’s never been more thankful for a doctor to walk in for he wasn’t sure how to unpackage Christopher’s quiet plea in a way that wouldn’t be considered as overstepping Eddie’s parental authority but also in a way that wouldn’t have Christopher demanding he leave.

“Uh, yeah—It’s Buck.”

“Okay, Buck. Want the good news?”

“Will it be followed by bad news?” Buck asks, one brow arched, stomach twisting. “Because his father—”

“—no bad news today,” the doctor interrupts, and Buck huffs out a quiet sigh of relief and gives Christopher’s knee a squeeze. He gives a nod, and the doctor plucks the clipboard up.

“Christopher’s been cleared of a concussion. He’s got a few scrapes and bruises, and his head will probably hurt for a few more hours, but otherwise, he’s fine. I’ll leave a note at the front desk to begin the discharge papers. He should be out within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Buck mutters, and he nods when the doctor and nurses exit, giving him space to breathe; though, he’s not sure how much he can actually breath encompassed in four, blinding walls that bring back a pressing dark cloud of memories.

“Buck?”

Buck blinks slowly, peels his gaze from the door to see Christopher smiling softly at him, poking at his side.

“Can you lay with me?”

Buck eyes the small bed, mentally works round the best way to squeeze in, to maximize Christopher’s comfort, and he slips his sandals off and climbs onto the bed, impossibly gentle when he adjusts Chris. When he’s got Christopher against his chest, he sighs, and Christopher sighs with him, content, safe.

***

“That’s the last of them, Cap,” Eddie coughs lightly, tugs his helmet off. His lungs burn faintly from smoke inhalation. It’s not bad by any means, but he’s dabbling with the idea of having Hen look him over anyway.  

“Should I help with fire…” Eddie’s words trail off when the 122 pulls up onto the scene, their members already hopping out of the engine and working the hose. “Was backup necessary?” He glances back over his shoulder. Sure, the fire’s large, but he doesn’t think it’s classified as a level high enough to warrant local support.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie whips back around, squints at Bobby. “Yeah, why?”

“Let me clarify: are you okay to leave the scene right this second, or do you need to a look-over now?”

Eddie’s still struggling to read Bobby’s tone for it’s always frighteningly composed, even in the face of emergency. “I’m okay now.” He nods slowly, and then Bobby’s turning on his heel and wordlessly gesturing him toward the engine.

He slips into the back, pausing to see Bobby sitting in the back with him, stationed across from him.

“Cap, what—”

“—have a seat.”

Eddie sits slowly, slips his headphones on, and then the engine’s roaring to life beneath him and pulling away from the scene. He’s alone with Bobby because Hen and Chimney left earlier with a patient, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s in trouble for something. He replays his actions at the house fire, yet he can’t find an error that would warrant a private conversation with Bobby.

“Buck called,” Bobby finally says, and Eddie drags his gaze from the cars moving onto the road shoulders, now finally tuning in to the fact that the sirens are wailing overhead still, the engine demanding the street with the shrill sounds and flashing lights. The sirens shouldn’t be on unless…

“Is he okay?”

“Buck’s fine. The hospital called him because Christopher was brought in. They tried you, and he was next on the emergency contact list.”

There’s dread, Eddie thinks. Dread when he rides up to a call and gathers the first, initial assessment of the situation. And then there’s bone-deep, crippling fear—fear that twists in his gut, pools into his lungs, walls around his heart. It drains the blood from his face, freezes his muscles, steals his breath, and buries his mind in a series of what if scenarios that range from grim to downright terrifying.

“Eddie, breathe.”

He does, but only because his mind is trained to respond on command to Bobby’s voice. The breath he sucks in his short and cold, and he finally reaches in his pocket for his phone. He’s got four missed calls, three voicemails, and a series of texts from Buck, all fairly close in time to the other.

He goes through the texts—he won’t be able to hear the voicemails right now, and he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach Buck’s panicked, broken voice.

[From: Buck] Chris is okay. He fell at school and hit his head

[From: Buck] no concussion. Doc said he can be discharged within the hour

[From: Buck] I’ve checked him over. There’s a bruise on his side I want to keep an eye on but otherwise he’s okay

[From: Buck] we should talk about why he fell

[From: Buck] but not until later! Sorry that last text sounded weird…

[From: Buck] discharge in 20 minutes. I’ll bring him back to yours if you aren’t able to come yet. I still have the spare key you gave me

He’s blinks around the tears pooling in his eyes, swallows thickly. “Buck said he’s okay. He fell at school.” He’s aware his voice is shaking, and then Bobby claps him on the knee.

“That’s a good thing.”

It is, Eddie thinks, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. He works on his breathing, controlling it, counting breaths, but when they pull up to the hospital, the fear comes back, muted now, but still there, always there.

He hops out of the engine, Bobby not far behind, and in just seconds, a nurse is guiding them back. When he reaches the door and looks beyond the glass to see Christopher curled up against Buck’s chest, he breathes, deeply and fully, for the first time since he pulled himself up into the engine. Relief, he thinks, is the singular image of the two most important people in his life safe and together.

***

“Christopher!”

Buck whips his gaze from his phone where he’s got a story pulled up to read to Christopher, and he slowly turns Chris over just as Eddie rounds the bed and pulls Chris to his chest tightly. He notes, to himself, that Eddie’s in full turnout gear, that he’s got soot smudges on his face, that his jaw is a set, unwavering line jutting against his skin.

“Daddy!”

“¿Estás bien, hijo?”

“Sí.”

Buck wordlessly slips from the bed, toes his feet into his sandals. He crosses his arms and backs away from the scene, feeling all too overwhelmed, suddenly suffocated despite the brush of relief before him, and then Eddie’s looking toward him, frowning, eyes unreadable, and Buck offers a small smile.

“The discharge papers,” he motions toward a stack of papers on the end of the hospital bed. “I’ll bring my jeep around.”

“Wait, Buck—”

Buck slips out of the room, eyes cast to the ground, and he bumps right into someone, his hand coming up to fist around the turnout jacket and his head dropping against a shoulder.

“You okay, Buck?”

There are so many ways Buck wants to say no, but the one that’s most alarming, one that’s been a nagging twinge in his lungs, is the one he opts for. “I don’t think I can breathe.” His voice is breathless, and then Bobby’s guiding him with a hand to his back toward the nearest exit. The second he bursts through the double doors, he sucks in a sharp gasp that breaks way to a few coughs, and he’s being gently eased onto the edge of the sidewalk.

“Easy, Buck. Breathe with me, okay?”

Buck meets Bobby’s eyes, nods, and drags his gaze down to Bobby’s chest, watching the steady rise and fall, mimicking it, until the fog clouding his brain breaks, leaving him far too tired. His shoulders slump, and Bobby claps a hand to his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know…” Buck sighs, dropping his face into his palms. He can hear his therapist’s voice reminding him that he’ll feel better if he’s more open with others. “I’m really overwhelmed right now.” He can feel Bobby’s hand tighten around his shoulder, a wordless sign to continue. “Just… Getting that call that Chris is in the hospital really freaked me out. I know he’s fine, but just… He’s the last person I ever want to see in a hospital bed.”

“Now you know how I feel every time I get a call that you’re in the hospital.”

“Bobby,” Buck groans, lifting his head to match Bobby’s smile.

“You look tired—I don’t imagine you got much sleep before the call?”

“A few hours,” Buck admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Not sure I’ll get back to sleep anytime soon. I’m exhausted, but it’s definitely going to take some time for the adrenaline to die down.”

“Do you need me to take Eddie and Chris back?”

“Nah,” Buck drags himself up to his feet, yawning. “I’m going to need to physically see Christopher safe in bed before I can even think about unwinding.” He can see one of the engines not far off in the parking lot, and he laughs quietly. “Though, I bet Chris would love to be back in the truck.” He frowns at Bobby’s turnover gear. “Did you leave right after a call?”

“I requested the 122 to come in for backup.”

Nodding absently, Buck looks back toward the doors they came from, and he crosses his arms, fingers digging into the skin. He knows that he’s taken all necessary steps when faced with an abrupt situation, yet he can’t shake the underlining burn in his stomach that he overstepped, that he didn’t get here fast enough, that he should have added a step, or even removed one, when getting here.

“You did good today, Buck.”

His shoulders slump, tension falling with them, and he huffs out a low sigh.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

***

“You keep looking at him like he’s going to disappear.”

Buck jumps; he didn’t hear the shower cut off, nor did he hear Eddie slip into Christopher’s room behind him.

“I keep thinking he might,” Buck whispers, and Eddie tugs at his arm, urging him up from the chair he’s got pulled up to Christopher’s bed. He lets Eddie guide him from the room, but when Eddie tries to ease him onto the couch, he digs his heels into the floor, and Eddie turns to him, brows furrowed.

“Buck—”

“—when were you planning on telling me I’m second on Christopher’s list of emergency contacts?”

Buck doesn’t miss the deep, calculated sigh Eddie breathes, and he opts to remain standing when Eddie sinks down onto the couch, only watching wordlessly as Eddie runs fingers through his damp hair.

“It was Chris’s idea.”

Buck blinks slowly. “What?”

“After the tsunami. When we were leaving the hospital, he mentioned how you saved him. He said he wanted you to be the person who comes to save him again.” Eddie pauses, rubs smally at the shirt fabric just above his chest. “I resisted at first—I told Christopher we couldn’t ask something that big of you, but I’ve seen countless times since then how far you’ll go for him, so I called and had you added second on the list.”

Eddie takes in a low breath, and Buck’s mutely envious because he can’t do the same.

“If I can’t get to him, it needs to be you.”

Buck’s struggling to pick something to focus on. His heart wants to chase the heat of Eddie’s words, yet the guilt, as it always is, is an overpowering force that leaves him shaking his head, backing up until the back of his leg hits the coffee table.

“It can’t be me.” He watches Eddie’s face fall, but Eddie still nods, understanding even now.

“I get it. I should have asked first. I know it’s a big responsibility—”

“—what?” Buck shakes his head again, crosses his arms. “It’s not the responsibility. You know I would do absolutely anything for that kid. It’s the fact that it’s my fault he ended up in the hospital today.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, lips in a firm line, and Buck knows this look well—it’s Eddie’s way of signaling for Buck to continue, knowing well that Buck will finish on his own, that he doesn’t need verbal prompts to guide him toward his point.

“He was playing firefighter with one of his friends at school, and he fell down a step.”

The silence that follows feels thick enough to clog Buck’s lungs. He wants to sit—his legs are shaking, but if he sits, he can’t flee as fast, and he just knows Eddie’s going to ask him to leave, to not come back. And, Buck thinks, Eddie should. Eddie should yell at him for filling Christopher’s mind with stories from work, for encouraging this imaginative behavior that dropped him onto a hospital bed.

“Is that it?” Eddie says instead, calm, and Buck frowns, jaw opening and closing, struggling for words.

“I mean, I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how this is your fault,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck sinks onto the coffee table at this, not trusting his legs to hold him upright.

“Eddie, I’m constantly telling him stories from work, glorifying the job, painting all of these verbal, detailed images that fill his mind and plant ideas.”

“And you think I don’t?”

“Eddie—”

“—Buck, we have the same job. If Chris asks me what I did at work, I tell him. I spare him the calls that don’t go in our favor, but otherwise, I tell him.”

Buck blinks slowly, mind operating around 30% capacity, and Eddie leans forward, cupping a hand to Buck’s knee.

“No one’s at fault. Kid’s got one hell of an imagination.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re not mad?” Buck expected yelling. He expected to get kicked out of Eddie’s house, and yet, Eddie’s calm before him, relaxed, a little tired around the edges, but he’s showing no signs that he’s seconds from blowing up.

“There’s nothing to be mad about.”

Buck can only blink at Eddie. He’s faintly aware that his eyes are watering, and then Eddie’s pulling him back up by the arm.

“Okay, we all know by now that you get sappy when you’re tired.”

Buck stops in the doorway when Eddie steps into the bedroom, watching as Eddie pulls back the covers and motions toward the bed. He shakes his head, one hand gripping tightly at the doorframe.

“Eddie, I’m not taking your bed. You should be with Chris. I’ll go—”

“—Chris will want you here when he wakes up. Plus, it doesn’t take but basic math to realize you’re working on only four hours of sleep after a 24, so you’d be doing everyone a favor by shutting up and getting in the damn bed.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck.”

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze, breaking it after a few, heavy moments with a weighted sigh. He shuffles toward the bed, kicking off his sandals and climbing in on the side farthest from the door, knowing that the side closest to the door is reserved for Eddie, to accommodate Eddie’s needs to be the first to act if something happens.

The bed is heaven against his sore body, and the second his head hits the pillow, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The adrenaline is fully fleeing now, leaving him exhausted to the core in more ways than one. He blinks slowly, watching as Eddie climbs into the other side of the bed, sighing loudly, and he rolls toward Eddie, studying the way Eddie gingerly rubs at his chest for the second time.

“You give your oxygen mask to someone during the house fire?” Buck asks around a yawn, and Eddie nods.

“It wasn’t for long.”

“You didn’t get checked over.” It’s not a question; Buck knows, based on the sight of Eddie arriving at the hospital looking rough for wear and donned in full gear, but Eddie still responds.

“No, but I’m fine.”

Buck forces himself up on one elbow, frown deep, brows furrowed. “You should get checked out now. I can call Hen—”

“—did you forget I was a field medic?” Eddie arches a brow, and Buck sinks back against the pillow.

“No, you always find a time to remind me. You can’t check yourself over, though.”

“And how many times have you ignored a fractured rib because you ‘checked yourself over?’” Eddie fires back, and Buck groans, draping an arm over his eyes.

They fall silent, and Buck’s body is urging him to give in to the fatigue draping over him. Still, he can’t fully settle. The adrenaline of the last hour and a half is a flame that’s almost completely burned out. Still, it flickers smally, and he rolls onto his side, watching Eddie.

“The bruise on Christopher’s side. We should—”

“—I looked, and we iced it until he fell asleep. Now, please shut up and sleep.”

[jjkyaoi]

i’m surprised there’s not more ghost hunter!sbi au’s or just general paranormal!sbi au’s. anyway, take this.

(yes this is because i’ve been watching buzzfeed unsolved again recently, what about it)

wilbur’s the one with the main youtube channel, and before they started really doing paranormal shit it was mostly,,...,,, like his actual channel? just him doing dumb shit w/ his friends— yes he does play minecraft in this au. don’t ask me how he went from minecraft from hunting ghosts, it is something that none of us know.

techno’s the one who actually came up w/ the idea, because in the family he’s always been the one who’s been most obsessed w/ paranormal things, for a skeptic. he’s always constantly wanting to push the limits of things people aren’t sure actually  exists— he always wants to see how fast he can die when he fucks w/ things that are potentially dangerous, so he’s a dumbass, and he brought up the idea of ghosthunting to wilbur, who’s also  a dumbass & always accepts dumb ideas and plays them out, so of course  he says yes.

the first ever paranormal video they did was a livestream! it was basically just wilbur and techno exploring this old abandoned house in their neighborhood that had rumors of paranormal experiences, and trying (and failing) to find ghosts. it was mostly just them fucking around; just techno calling out and taunting the air, daring it do something, and wilbur laughing nervously and telling him to “shut the fuck up”  most of the time, but then eventually he’d get roped in and then it’d just end in w/ these dumbass twins just taunting the open air. ,,,,it didn’t go successfully. they didn’t find anything worth while, and they’d thought that’d be the end of it— that’d be the last paranormal video they’d ever make, but  it turned out that their viewers really  liked the concept & their general dynamic—the majority of them just liked techno, but shh—so they were like; “ykw,,,,why not. turn this into a thing” & then they did.

none of them are professionals. they’re sort of just taking the paranormal places they’d hear about at face-value and going there just to,,, scream and yell at open air?? eventually  they do get more ‘professional’ and actually get the correct equipment and they do  end up finding actual ghosts, but at first it’s laughable. take the whole ‘ghost hunters’ thing with fucking gallons  of salt

before the paranormal videos started coming out, wilbur only ever really told stories about his family to the viewers— wilbur’s fans hadn’t met the sleepy boi’s yet, so these entire series is just wilbur’s fans getting to know ‘em, basically. ,,,,techno is a fan-favorite

at first it’s just wilbur and techno doing the ghost hunting, and the fandom had gotten used to those two and their general,,, shenanigans?? but for awhile, there was this conspiracy about who was the camera guy, in their videos? there were these theory videos, circling phil’s blurry image holding the camera in mirrors that they passed by in the places they went, “#CameraManConspiracy” was trending for like,,,. so  long until wilbur and techno made a whole video revealing it and just went “oh yeah btw this is phil; he’s our dad and he records the videos so we don’t like. burn the places we go to down or somethin’”. everyone on the internet lost their fucking minds . phil actually showing up in one of their videos and talking was a pretty big demand for awhile until it actually happened, and ever since then he’s been known as dadza; the man who brings the camera and the common sense. (half the time, though, he’s just egging his son’s mischief on, but shh he’s the common sense).

tommy didn’t join their little group until like way, way later? in the paranormal videos he was just spoken about by phil, techno, and wilbur? he was more just an afterthought— just mentioned like ‘oh i bet tommy would hate this’ or ‘should i bring this home and show it to tommy?’ and everyone on the internet was like; ‘who the fuck is tommy’. he was one of the family members who’s arrival was like,,, really dragged out? the sleepy boi’s kept teasing him coming on, kept saying ‘well, he’ll come on eventually, when he wants to, be patient’ and for like months he did not ever show up, and the fandom theorized that tommy wasn’t even fucking real  for a decent amount of time until, finally, he showed up.

it was a Q&A video, actually, where he showed up— their first and their last. they’d gotten a question about tommy—well, they’d gotten millions, but they just answered one—and they did this whole dramatic pause, looking solemn and saying ‘yeah, you got us, tommy isn’t real —’ and then tommy immediately burst into the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, and ran at the camera. that’s where the video ended. on twitter for days there were blurry screenshots of tommy’s form and the hashtag “#HE’SREAL???” was number 3 for days. he’s been apart of their group ever since

out of all of ‘em, techno’s the one who’s constantly at the forefront of taunting the ghosts. amongst the fandom, he’s known as the one who isn’t human, because of the fact the motherfucker always does shit that would kill the regular person, but he always comes out unscathed— half of the fandom thinks he’s possessed. he’s either taunting the ghosts or pranking tommy just to scare the shit out of him—who, always falls for it, despite how much he denies it—either that or he’s just in the background making jokes— motherfucker never takes it seriously.

wilbur’s the one who tries to take it seriously, but because he’s w/ these fools it always backfires on him. he’s always the one who’s asking the ghosts questions abt their personal life or doing theories about how they could’ve died, but in the end he’s always roped into some stupid shenanigans by his brothers and then just ends up taunting the ghosts. he’s known as the fandom’s conspiracy theorist— also, no one fucking knows if he actually believes in the ghosts or not??? man just makes theories. he’s more of the common sense than fucking phil is sometimes

phil is the camera man, as he’s established, but as well as wilbur he’s the one who communicates w/ the ghosts more often, and by that i mean the motherfucker is a ghost magnet. when the activity by techno and wilbur is always stagnant, on phil’s camera’s there’s always orbs caught by him, there’s always voices heard whispering by him— the ghosts seem to like him. half the time he’s just laughing behind the camera, but also the other time he’s trying to converse w/ the ghosts; he’s the only one who actually gets ‘em to speak and he’s never phased by any of it.

tommy is the one who’s the most scared out of all of ‘em, of course. motherfucker is always yelling, regardless if there’s something going on or not. he’s the type that thinks his increase in volume hides the fact that he’s scared, and he’s always challenging the ghosts to a duel or yelling ‘IM NOT SCARED’ only to piss his pants a second later. either that, or he’s wandering off ‘cause he got bored— there’s been more scenarios than the sleepy boi’s would like where they’ve lost tommy in the places they visit to. and, he ends up scaring himself even more when he gets lost. he’s also always the target for wilbur and techno’s pranks because he’s just that easy w/ paranormal shit

tubbo is also a pretty reoccurring character in the paranormal videos, but he doesn’t ever stay. he was first introduced by tommy, of course, coming onto the video as the ‘family friend’ (which is deadass just a roundabout way of saying he’s the unofficially adopted kid), and whenever he’s on their videos he’s also one of the most scared ones, but simultaneously,,, man constantly tries to talk to the ghosts? he gets scared by a too sudden sound or gets freaked out by the ghost stories, but a second later he’s in the corner fucking talking to,,, thin air? man’s known as the cryptid of the group. he constantly makes friends w/ the ghosts but it just looks like he’s talking to himself. (,,,, perhaps.,,,, tubbo can see,,,,, a little bit more of the paranormal world than we can? but that’s just spoilers)

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

Okay but imagine Stevie [accidentally] interrupting Harry’s zoom interview !! She would literally steal the show

i love this concept SO much :) hope you like!

ALSO: i need ideas for what Harry would want to name his son! send in your ideas, i’d love any input!

stole the show

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k

Stevie knew. You had told her, multiple times. Never go in daddy’s office when his door is closed. This didn’t happen often; Harry usually left everything wide open. He said it helped his creative process, being able to see his favorite girls. He only closed the door when he had an important meeting that couldn’t be interrupted.

So you told her, over and over again. You were very patient with her. She was only two, after all. You reminded her every time you saw Harry closing his door, just in case.

Of course, two year olds often have a very selective memory. There had been more than one occasion when you had scooped her up just before she turned the doorknob. You wondered if she did it on purpose to get a reaction out of you, or if she really just wanted to see her dad. It was probably a mixture of both. It wasn’t like Harry deprived her of attention. She got to be with him almost all the time, playing and giggling and singing. Apparently, she didn’t like when he wasn’t immediately at her disposal. To be fair, neither did you, so you had a guess where she got that from.

Still, she was usually pretty good about it. You usually managed to keep her distracted with other things while Harry was locked away, doing interviews and whatnot. For some reason, though, she was extra fidgety today.

“Where’s daddy?” She whined, pulling on your shirt.

“He’s working, bug,” you leaned down to pick her up, settling her on your hip. “He can come play soon.”

“Play now,” she pouted.

“He can’t play right now, but he can soon! Why don’t we make some pizza for supper while we wait?”

“No,” she said stubbornly. “I want daddy.”

“I know, but he can’t come out right now,” you said, trying to think of some way to entertain her.

“How bout this, bug? Let’s make some Mac ‘n Cheese!”

She kept the stubborn pout on her face, not wanting to give in too soon.

“Ok,” she finally agreed, squirming for you to let her down.

“Can you find the strainer for me?”

She nodded excitedly, running to the kitchen. You followed quickly when you heard her clanging things around, not wanting her to make too big of a mess.

“Here it is!” She held the strainer up above her head, looking very proud of herself.

“Thank you very much!”

“You’re welcome very much!”

You laughed, lifting her up to set the bowl in the sink. She climbed up on her step stool, turning on the tap to fill the pot with water and spilling it all over herself in the process.

“Oh, lovely,” you sighed, looking at her now soaking shirt. “How about we go get a new shirt so you don’t have to wear that wet one?”

“The noodles!” She protested, wanting to help with every step.

“You can help with the noodles, I promise. We have to wait for the water to boil first, remember? We have to see the bubbles before the noodles can go in.”

“First the bubbles, then the noodles,” she nodded.

“Exactly! I bet if we go really fast, we can get you a dry shirt before the bubbles come.”

“No, I do it by myself,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Ok, you can do it by yourself,” you agreed. “If you need help-“

“I don’t!” She called, already running across the room.

You smiled, shaking your head at how independent she was.

-----

Harry nodded, leaning toward his laptop as the interviewer spoke.

“Yeah, so I think that was one of the biggest things about this. We were so focused about getting everything-“ he cut himself off when he heard Stevie’s footsteps pattering quickly down the hall. He smiled to himself before continuing. “Uh, sorry, getting everything perfect. We actually scrapped quite a lot of material, just because I kind of had that “it’s good, but it could be better” feeling. My team’s probably really annoyed with me right now,” he laughed.

“No, they would never!” The interviewer, John, said in mock surprise, laughing with him. “What do you think was your favorite part of this process?”

“Honestly? I really loved showing it to Y/N and my daughter. Their reactions are always so beautiful to see, even though Stevie usually has no idea what’s going on,” he laughed. “She’s excited because I’m excited.”

“Aw, and that’s always so precious to see! What did Y/N think?”

“She was really great about it, as always. She’s been incredibly supportive through this entire experience, even though it’s been a little bit hard for us, with raising a two year old and all. She’s truly too good to me,” he smiled, blushing a bit. “I just really love having something I’m so proud of, that I’ve put so much work into, and getting to show that to two people I love. It’s an incredible experience.”

“I’m sure! So what would you say was the most difficult part of this whole thing?”

“Oh boy,” he said, sighing jokingly. “How much time do you have?” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “But more seriously, I think the worst thing for me was having to spend so much time away from my family. There are days when nothing is working, stuff just isn’t flowing, and you just want to go home and see the people you love. It’s very frustrating, not being able to be with them whenever you want.”

He looked up again when he heard crashing noises coming from Stevie’s room, but focused his attention back on the screen when John spoke again.

“Speaking of family, how are they doing? Your daughter just had a birthday, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did,” he said, beaming. “She’s two now.”

“Oh, and that’s always a fun age!” John said, laughing. “Good luck with that.”

“No, she’s an angel,” Harry said, still smiling. “We’re a little-“

He was interrupted when the door slammed open and his little angel burst into the room. She ran straight to him, not hesitating to jump right into his lap.

“Hello there,” he said, laughing in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I want to play,” she said, whining into his shoulder. “Mommy’s cooking.”

“Well, doesn’t she need help?” Harry said, noticing her shirt was soaked through. Maybe Stevie had done enough helping already.

“No,” she said stubbornly, latching her arms around his neck. “I stay here.”

“Alright then,” he laughed, turning his chair around to face his laptop again. “Sorry for the interruption, I’m back now. And this is Stevie,” he turned her around to sit against him, looking shyly at the interviewer. “Can you say hi, Stevie?”

She smiled, waving her small hand.

“Hi Stevie! It’s nice to meet you!” John said, smiling.

“Hi,” she said in a small voice, tiling her head to look up at Harry. “Daddy, who is that?” she whispered loudly.

“His name is John, love,” he laughed.

“So Stevie, I heard you just turned two?” John asked.

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, warming up to him already. “With balloons!”

“You had balloons? That’s so cool!” He said, instantly matching her energy and striking up a conversation.

-----

It was quiet. Maybe... too quiet. It was never good when a two year old was silent. You started getting worried about what Stevie had gotten into and decided to go find her.

You didn’t find her in her room, meaning she was probably somewhere else in the house, making a huge mess.

“Stevie!” You called. “Where’d you go?”

Then you heard her, chatting excitedly. This wasn’t too strange; she frequently talked to her stuffed animals and dolls like they were real people. You didn’t, however, usually hear someone talking back to her. You sighed when you pinpointed where her voice was coming from.

You turned around, making your way to Harry’s office. You cautiously opened the door, looking in to see Stevie perched on his lap and talking animatedly to his laptop.

“Sorry about that, she slipped away from me,” you said, smiling as you lifted her off of him.

“Not a problem, love, we were having a great time,” he laughed. “Stevie made a new friend!”

“Yeah?” You looked at her. She nodded happily.

“Bye John!” She yelled, waving at the screen as you carried her out of the room.

-----

Harry came up behind you, putting his arms around you as you stirred the pasta in the pot.

“Sorry again she interrupted you, she’s very sneaky,” you laughed.

“Yeah, she totally stole the show,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m going to lose my job if she keeps this up.”

“Yeah, totally, I mean, who wants to talk to you when they could have Stevie?”

“Precisely,” he smiled. “I think she’s cuter than me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It’s pretty close. I think it’s a tie.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Moral Insanity - Andy Barber smut

The one where you’re Jacob’s friend and Andy fucks you on a balcony.

Warnings: this is divorced! Andy and college! Jacob, so while there’s a definite age gap there, reader is legal. So other warnings go: semi-public sex, a lot of dirty talking, no daddy kink on this one, which came as a surprise even to me, curse words and really rough sex. p in v, porn with little plot, masturbation (f). A/N: Kinktober Day 27 prompts were sex on a balcony or window + “Don’t cum yet”. Hope you guys like this one, I feel like it was a good one, but if I had more time, I could probably make it better. I think that’s kind of the sentiment behind the whole kinktober, actually.

Andy’s P.O.V.

Even the strongest of wills caved when faced with a sweet enough temptation. All it took was one look and I knew she was mine.

Perhaps I should have known better than to let Jacob invite his friends to our beach house, but I was recently divorced and in desperate need to feel cool again, even if I knew that trying to be seen like that by my own kid would only lead me to the opposite direction. And maybe I also forgot just how old he was, ignored that he was now in college and saw the image of his teenage years when I looked at him, because the truth was, when I saw her walking in, I was frozen in my spot. 

I didn’t even consider that my son was old enough to have sleepovers with girls now. And when I had to confront my own desire for the much younger girl who he introduced as a friend, in my own eyes, he grew up too.

But I still had to face the reality that she was undeniably young enough to be my daughter.

“Good morning, Mr. B.” My head automatically whipped around to look at the ray of sunshine personified in the body of Jacob’s college best friend. I’d heard about her before, obviously, and even teased him about being embarrassed to admit that he was dating her, but now that I knew the girl I could only acknowledge the fact that she was way out of his league.

Maybe I shouldn’t retroactively feel relieved about their relationship being so innocent, but I was way past denying the attraction I felt for her. My goal now was to keep it hidden, despite just how enticing she was.

“Good morning, Y/N. You do know you’re on spring break, right? There’s no need to keep waking up so early.” I chanced a glance up at her, to find her looking out at the balcony, towards the sea. 

“I know,” she nodded, her eyes still focused on a distant point before they suddenly met mine. “I just like to keep you company.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just resumed my previous activity of frying bacon, letting the silence of the morning fill the space between us. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Maybe because in the last few days I’d had the chance of striking up many conversations with her - which only added to my attraction, since she was an incredibly intelligent woman - so I felt like I knew her enough, by now. Enough for what, I didn’t know.

“Well, the eggs are ready. Will you accompany me to breakfast?” We made idle chit chat before two of her friends made their way downstairs, my signal to leave them alone. As much as I liked to view myself as young at heart, I remembered just how weird it was when adults tried to force their presence into a group, and I wasn’t about to do that.

Just before I left, her eyes met mine in a longing stare, and it felt like she wanted to say something, but refrained from doing so. But perhaps it was just my hopeful imagination, wanting her to like my company as much as I enjoyed hers.

The next time I saw her, it was lunch already. Jacob and his friends had spent the day between the beach and the pool, while I remained in the bedroom returning some calls from the office. When I finally joined them downstairs, I was once again shocked by the view of her glistening wet body in what could only be described as a barely there bikini.

She caught me staring, that much I knew and I couldn’t really admonish myself for my lack of restraint, not when I hadn’t seen that much of her body yet and it was driving me crazy. Besides, I definitely wasn’t the only one staring, perhaps just the only who really shouldn’t be doing it.

“Why are you pouting?” Was the first thing I asked her when she approached the kitchen island where I fixed myself a sandwich, making sure to keep my eyes on the bread slices in my hands, instead of on her chest.

“You left me alone with dumb and dumber! In the middle of a conversation about the Supreme Court! You really know how to make a girl feel interesting, Mr. B.” My heartbeat sped up in my chest, my mind racing with the possibility that she was flirting with me. Was she? How could I know? 

From my experience being single, I knew the only way was to slowly reciprocate it and hope for the best. Hopefully I’d be able to get out of it if she ever called me out on it. “You are interesting, Y/N. I’m the one who’s a boring old man. Say, what happened to the bathing suits you were wearing until today?”

My question made her look down to her own body, like she didn’t remember what she was wearing until I asked. When she did return her eyes to mine, she was biting her lip, though it was hard to assess if it was due to embarrassment or excitement for my acknowledgement.

“I lost a bet to the other girls. They gave me one of their bikinis to wear for the day, knowing I don’t usually wear them because they make me uncomfortable.” She looked downright adorable, the pout back on her lips at the memory, and I had to shake my head to swipe away the thought of leaning over and kissing it away.

“Well, I think you look great.” That was all I considered safe to say, but I did throw a wink in her direction before picking up my plate and moving to my bedroom, where I still had some work to go through while I ate. I didn’t look back to witness her reaction, but hoped she’d be at least a little intrigued by my sudden expression of interest.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“You sure you don’t wanna go with us?” I nodded patiently, confirming for the upteenth time that I did in fact desired to stay back at Jacob’s huge beach house instead of following my friends to a noisy, sweaty club. I’d never really liked those environments, so it wasn’t that weird that I ditched them for whatever crime show was on tv for tonight, but in the back of my mind, I knew it was more than that. 

I wanted to see Andy again. I wanted to have the opportunity to talk to him without the fear of being interrupted or judged. So really, it wasn’t any surprise to me that after everyone left for the night, I could barely sit still in front of the television, quickly deciding to turn it off and go look for the man that had been plaguing my thoughts for the last few days.

I paced in front of the door to his room for a while before finally gathering the courage to knock, expecting him to open it and follow me downstairs so we could talk. So I was beyond surprised when he simply ordered me to get in without even asking who was there, but I hesitated only for a few seconds before complying.

It was clear by Andy’s expression that he wasn’t expecting to see me, and all at once I realized he must have thought it was Jacob that wanted to speak with him, after all, no one else had probably ventured to this part of the house besides his son and himself. So I was beyond sheepish as I remained by the door when he lifted an eyebrow to ask me what I was doing there. “I thought you guys had gone out to a club or something.”

“I-I decided to stay back here and I was wondering if you wanted to chat.” Now both of his eyebrows were lifted, like he couldn’t believe what he had heard. In the seconds of silence that followed, my mind finally processed the fact that what Andy was wearing weren’t swimsuits, but boxers, and there wasn’t anything else covering his body from my wandering gaze. His hair was wet, too, like he’d just gotten out of a shower, but none of that distracted me from the fact that in those few seconds of silence, his expression changed from incredulous to something entirely different, something I couldn’t really pinpoint, but made my body feel hotter than the sun.

“You wanted to chat?” The question sounded more like an accusation and I found myself giving a step back when I realized that Andy had crossed the room to stand right in front of me, his eyes taking in every inch of skin the bikini exposed. “You wanted to chat,” he repeated, and I gulped before opening my mouth to explain myself, even though I wasn’t entirely sure of what I should be explaining, when his hands found their way to the door behind me and he closed it before settling them in the dark wood, caging me between my escape and himself. “You come into my room when your friends are out and we’re the only two people in the house, dressed like that after spending the last few days driving me absolutely insane, and you tell me you want to chat?”

Andy’s P.O.V.

God fucking damn. This girl had to be completely unaware of her effect over me or absolutely intent on having me going crazy over how badly I wanted her, because it was impossible for her to have waltzed into my room without knowing that this was how I would react.

Still, I had to admit it came half as a surprise even to myself, so maybe I shouldn’t judge her too harshly. Maybe if I hadn’t just tugged one out to the thoughts of her and spilled over myself so badly I had to take a shower, I would be able to ignore the temptation. But as it were, she’d just incited the beast within me, and all I needed was the confirmation that she wanted this just as badly as I did so I could take her exactly like I’d been dreaming about for the last few days.

She heaved as she looked up at me with unmistakable lust-filled eyes, and I felt an insurmountable amount of pride spread through my chest at the knowledge that this desirable young woman was affected by me.

“Well, now that you’re offering me an option, I’ve been wanting your cock in my mouth.” The surprise that hit me over hearing those words fall out of her innocent lips was soon overtook by my desperate need to have her, and with a growl, I pulled her by the back of her head to meet my lips in a furious kiss.

Completely immersed in the taste of cinnamon on her lips, I bit on the lower one to beg her for entrance so I could graze my tongue on hers, taking up the opportunity to finally feel her body against mine. I pressed her up against the door, running my hands over her body before I reached the back of her thighs, pulling her to wrap her legs around my body.

In a few quick strides, we were through the open doors that led to the balcony from where I had a perfect view of the sea, and when I let her go to stand on her own legs, she looked around, clearly confused about my choice of place.

“Did you think you could tease me like that and not get punished? Oh no, you tempted me publicly, I’ll fuck you right here.” It was easy to see that the shiver that ran through her body wasn’t completely due to the wind that was caressing our bodies, she was aroused by the idea. Still, I knew she had a fight in her, so the second she opened her mouth to argue, I lunged at her, capturing her lips with mine again.

The beauty of a bikini. One simple movement and the top piece was on the floor and my hands were full with her breasts, my fingers occupied with circling her hardened nipples as I kept kissing her with all that I had.

“Now, princess…” Leaving her lips to kiss down her jaw, my fingers found their way inside her little bottom piece before they teased her, testing her wetness to find her dripping for me. “I know you said you wanted my cock in your mouth, but I think we can leave that for later, huh? Right now, I really need to have you. So you’re gonna cum real quick, with my fingers deep inside this tight pussy, before I bend you over the rail and rail you.”

I fucked her quickly and harshly, making sure to hit her sweet spot every time when I managed to find her, while I distracted myself from my throbbing cock by nibbling on her earlobe and imprinting her scent in my memory. When she did cum, it was with a breathless gasp as she held tightly onto my biceps, and I groaned just from the feeling of her tightness squeezing my digits.

“I gotta have you now.” That was all the warning I gave before I did just what I promised, bending her over before pushing her bikini bottoms and sliding home. Our moans echoed each other, only fueling my arousal to a point where I couldn’t really wait for her to adjust to my size. So I just started pounding into her, keeping a grip on her hip and another on her hair as I watched her ass slap back against me, her breasts bouncing with the force of my thrusts.

“So fucking tight.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted metal in an effort not to cum too quickly, but it only made me hornier. “C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love being ruined by me. Don’t you wish your friends would get back sooner, so they’d see just how great you are at taking my cock?”

She cried out at my words, her legs shaking with the effort to keep herself up, but the sight before me was too fucking pretty to let her go. “Been dreaming about my cock deep inside this pretty pussy, haven’t you? Just like I’ve been jerking off to the thought of these pretty little lips wrapped around it.” Having pulled her against my chest by her hair, I rubbed her lower lip before pushing my thumb inside her mouth, where she eagerly started to suck just like I imagined. 

“Won’t have to think about it anymore, will I? Because you’ll let me fuck you any time I want. Every time I get hard thinking about you, you’ll bend over for me to take you and I won’t have to say a single word.” I could feel her pussy clenching periodically because of my words, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I still needed a few more minutes of fucking this tight young pussy and I wanted her to cum with me, so I ordered, “Don’t cum yet,” giving a quick slap over her clit before holding her by her throat so I could kiss her cheek.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how badly you wanted my cock, how much you want my cum and I’ll let you have it. I’ll let you milk me dry inside this pretty little pussy until it’s dripping out of you.” 

I knew she was having a hard time trying to contain her orgasm, but she still managed to beg me while holding the hand that was pawing at her breast. “Please, Andy, Mr. Barber. I need your cum inside of me, sir. ‘Ve been thinking about it for so long. Please, let me cum with you.”

The sir did it for me. With one last command for her to cum, I allowed myself to release deep inside of her, sliding my hand to her lower stomach so I could feel myself and making her clench again at the feeling.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, catching our breath while staring out into the ocean, until my softened cock slipped out of her, and I gave her a quick kiss on the shoulder. “It’s a pretty view,” she murmured, and I chuckled before turning her to look at me.

“Not as pretty as you. And hey, as great as this was, I want you to know that I really want to get to know you better, Y/N. Talking to you every morning has been the highlight of my day and I’m in desperate need of something like that.”

She smiled before standing up on her tiptoes to deposit a quick kiss on my lips. “Sounds good to me, Mr. Barber. Now, have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

[beatleszeppelin]

You're A … Inexperienced

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol' time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 2.1k

Chapter 1: Truth

The night was off to a slow start since you and Daryl had taken watch. The sound of the chain link fence rattling in the wind served as a pendulum in the back of your mind. A chill in the late summer air made the concrete you used as a backrest cool to the touch. Both of you sat against the base of the watchtower on lookout, since the two with the regular shift were on a run.

“Know any games to play to stay awake?” You asked, slumped against a wall, and turning to look at Daryl, who was sitting cross legged, head rested in his hands.

“No,” he replied, “should get some cards or somethin’.”

“Yeah, next time we go into town.”

The night had become dark, no moonlight deciphered the sky from the inside of your eyelids. Time ticked on and before you knew it both of you had fallen asleep.

The rattle of the fence shocked you out of your sleep, and you saw an arm reaching through the fence trying to grab at you. Although a decent distance away, you could still see it’s skin peeled back up to it’s bicep; raw meat dangling behind the wires, so it could fit the exposed bone deeper through the fence.

The growling must have woken Daryl up, because by the time you were standing to go and kill the bloody thing, he had handed you his knife to use. You took it graciously and tiredly walked over to kill it, looking much like a zombie yourself.

Stabbing it through the eye, you could feel the pop of penetration to the skull, and with that it fell to the ground dead, fully dead. With all of its weight moving downwards, the force must have been too much, causing it’s limb to stay on the side of the fence opposite to it’s corpse. You hoped backwards as the appendage reached for your ankle, then shriveled up like the rest of its body.

Returning to your space adjacent to Daryl, you handed his knife back, and sat down breathing heavily.

“You rest, I won’t go back to sleep,” he said leaning on his hip to pull his red rag out from his back pocket. The knife you had used was laying on the ground next to him, beaded with blood.

“No way I’m getting back to sleep, I can hear my blood pounding in my ears.”

“Tell me if you need ta though, ‘cause I’m good,” He said, reassuring you.

You just shook your head and leaned against the wall, propping yourself up with a gun by your side.

You rolled your shoulders back every once in a while to stretch your back. Daryl mindlessly fiddled with a rock that he picked up off the ground. The sky was now dark and all of the stars in the night could be seen. Nothing like this would have ever been possible before. As the stars moved and passed with the coming hours, your tiredness from before seemed to return.

Neither of you had spoken in quite some time, which wasn't weird for you now that you have been taking shifts with Daryl for sometime. At first it was weird doing nothing with him, it was like he wasn't comfortable enough with you to converse, but now you know it's quite the opposite. You guys can communicate by means other than just talking. However, silence needed to be broken if you were going to keep him company until sunrise.

“I miss coffee,” you broke silence, plucking some grass and throwing it past your outstretched feet.

“Huh,” he snickered.

"I don't think I appreciated it before, I don't even remember drinking it that often."

"Don't even remember the last time I had it." He said and spun the little shiny rock he had in his grasp.

“I do,” you said.

He readjusted his position to be facing you holding his knees up to his chest with his chin rested on top. His head tilted down, but his eyes looked up at you to continue.

"Was a date, or not a date, but a meeting. I was out at a cafe, with the TA, for the psych class I was in. And he ordered for us, and after I explicitly told him to get almond milk, he didn't."

"Why?" Daryl asked with conviction.

"Because I'm lactose intolerant and I had to kick him out that night because my stomach hurt so bad." You picked a few sticks up from the ground and broke them into tiny pieces. The stick sprinkled across the ground, and disappeared in the surrounding weeds.

"Didn't mean why are you lactose intolerant, I meant why didn’t he get ya what ya wanted?" He furrowed his brow for a second.

“I don’t know, never thought about it, maybe he’d just forgotten or something. Doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even that good in bed.”

Daryl threw his special rock in the air and caught it swiftly. For just a second it had sparkled in the air, before he held it in his fist like he would never let it go.

“I bet you’ve been on bad dates, too.”

“Nah,” He said and threw his rock across the land and wrapped both his arms around his legs.

“What!? Okay, I guess your fucking perfect,” you said scoffing in a half joking manner.

“No, just didn’t go with too many people.” He mumbled.

“And all of them just happened to be great?” You questioned.

“Never said that,” He tucked his chin under his arms, that still rested on his knees, “I never went on any good ones neither.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe you didn’t date much, I mean, look at you,” you joked, but also couldn’t deny the genuine admiration that he evoked from the people that surrounded him.

“Nah, forget I ever said anythin’. Let’s just go back to sittin’ here.” He turned his head to the side in which the sun would eventually rise.

“No, please, I just came up with a game idea,” you begged.

“Hmm?” He glanced over.

“Truth or dare!” You exclaimed, failing your attempt of hiding your excitement.

“Nuh uh. Not subjecting myself to that shit,” he said tersely.

“Come on, I wanna know about these dates you didn’t go on, and you could dare me to do stupid shit in the mean time,” you said with your shoulders sagging.

“Ain’t gonna ask you nothin’,” he said stubbornly.

“Okay, then it’ll be one-sided truth.” You had as much enthusiasm as a little girl at a sleepover as you asked, “Truth or da…”

“Fine.”

“Okay, when was the last time you got drunk?” you started him off easy.

“Uh… CDC.”

“Wait, the CDC? Like the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta? How have I not heard about this before?” You asked. If this was the easy question,then this game may be more fun than you had previously thought.

“Yeah, stopped there, it’s gone now though,” he said nonchalantly.

“It’s gone? You would think it’d be better guarded or something.” You were astonished by the first question, and immediately got excited for the night to come.

“Blew up. My turn,” he said and pondered for a second, resting his chin on his palms like a winsome child. “What was his name?”

“Who’s name?” You wondered if this was what he was wasting his first question on.

“Coffee date guy,” he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“I don’t remember,” you shrugged.

“That ain’t how this game works,” he argued back with a pout.

“Okay fine, I think his name was Bryce,” you gave up.

“‘S a douchey name.”

“He was a douche… probably dead now.” You looked down at the weeds growing, plucking a few and tying them together, waiting for someone to speak. You looked over at Daryl, who was patiently waiting for his question. He actually looked like he wasn't completely hating this game.

You thought for a minute, wondering how you could crack the boy in front of you. After some thought you said, “What was your first date like?” It was the perfect question, because really you could not imagine what he’d say.

“I told you, never did that type of thing.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth and started rubbing his lip as he talked.

“Okay then, who was the first person you ever did anything romantic with?” you asked.

“‘S not romantic, but there was this one girl that Merle’d bring out drinking with us sometimes. Name was Candy or something.” He mumbled around his thumb.

“Aww, little 20 something Daryl going out with a girl named Candy,” you teased.

“Wasn’t 20, I musta been ‘bout 13 or 14,” he recalled.

“I thought you said you’d go out drinking together?”

“Yeah, we’d go to this bowling alley, ‘cause they don’t card, and they had a pool table and a back room, I used to pay Merle t’ get me drinks.”

“He have to buy her drinks too?” You questioned.

“Nah, she was ‘bout his age I think, and he’d never buy something for someone else,'' he looked off.

“Wait, she was his age, and they let you drink when you were just a kid?” You tried not to chide.

“Hey, ain’t it supposed to be my turn?”

“Sorry,” you stopped.

“You said you were in a psych class, was that what you were gonna be?” He looked interested, as he inquired, studying your face as he awaited your response.

You explained “That’s what I went to school for, but who knows, I minored in fine arts. Truth is I hated psychology, but my parents needed me to make money for myself, otherwise I could have lived happily as a broke artist. Doesn’t really matter now though,” you trailed off. “Speaking of, what were your parents like?”

“Mean, drunk, dead.” He put it bluntly.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t know. How old were you?"

"With my mom, I’s 9. I was out playing with kids from around where I lived. They were all on bikes and wanted to chase this fire engine trying to see somethin’ exciting. I ran behind, and when I caught up I realized it was my house that was on fire. My mom had been smoking in bed."

"I'm really sorry about that, I didn't know about your mom or anything." You looked at him genuinely, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Was a long time ago,” he shrugged off. “Now for you. What art did you do?"

“I drew, painted, took pictures, everything really.” You added kindly.

He tilted his head back until it hit the wall, he stretched out his legs, and looked up at the stars as he said, “I’ll have to see that sometime.” “It’s not like I still have any of them,” you said, perplexed at his interest.

“Oooh, who was your celebrity crush as a kid,” you asked, “like who did you have posters of above your bed?” “Ya’ know Blondie,” he looked over to get your reaction. As he saw you nod, he said “Yeah, had a Debbie Harry poster, ripped out from a magazine.”

You laughed, and the questions continued; some questions resulted in stories others sat in stillness. The morning was short to come as the warm glow of the sun peered over the trees, and chirping birds made themselves present.

“Okay, what was your first time like?” you pestered.

You were met with a second of awkward silence, before he stumbled over the phrases “ I never, I mean… I did, it wasn’t like that though.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth again.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re a…” he dipped his head down, and looked up at you through his hair. A sickly puppy could make your heart hurt any more, so you danced around your initial wording and asked “uhh, inexperienced?”

“Morning!” sang through the fields, and Daryl had been saved by the bell. Carol stood alongside Carl to take over for the morning shift, and relieve Daryl of his painted flush. She extended her hand out first to you, helping you up. Then to Daryl, letting the hand holding linger as she instructed for you guys to go get some rest.

The walk up was silent, but just before parting you joked with him “If you ever need some more experience, you know where my cell is.” You had said it quiet enough where he could ignore it, but you knew he heard it, because he silently split, seconds after you said it.

[bobafetts-princess]

Hunt Me

Summary: You and Mando are struggling to catch a bounty which makes you wonder how long you could stay hidden from the notorious bounty hunter. What happens when he catches you?

Pairings: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: smut, fingering, smartass reader, slight bondage, dirty talk, Din Djarin using pet names, predator/prey dynamic. Reader is definitely bisexual as am I

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS so go easy on me 🤣 I hope you guys like this, it was inspired by @tibbietibbs fic called The Bet so please enjoy! Also we support sex workers in this house thx

“Mando.” You prodded, legs crossed in the passenger seat of the Razor Crest as the Child slept next to you in his pod. A bowl of soup sat on your lap, remnants of your dinner you shared with the kid before he crashed out. “Mando.” You asked again, because he ignored you the first time. His helmet turned towards you slightly and you knew that it was the go ahead to ask your question.

“Why can’t we find this guy?”

“He’s smarter than I anticipated.”

“Are we leaving in the morning?”

“If someone will fuel the ship.”

“Do you think we’ll catch him? He seems pretty crafty.”

“Why do you have so many questions?” He snapped and you took the cue to shut your mouth. You were marooned on the planet of Takodana with no fuel and no help, until a fueling center opened in the morning. There was a town near where you’d landed, full of seedy places and bars and you’d heard that your bounty was here, only to find he’d disappeared the moment you arrived on the planet. The Mandolorian was frustrated with being unable to catch his bounty, temper shorter than usual. A thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t help but say his name again.

“Mando.” You prodded once more, wishing you knew his real name. You’d asked him one time, and he didn’t speak to you for three days unless it was regarding the welfare of the Child. He didn’t acknowledge you and you weren’t surprised, but you were discouraged. Your relationship with the Mandalorian had been improving, with you acting as a nanny to the child. The two of you shared evenings together and even the occasional laugh.

Recently you’d even shared some flirtations and you wondered what the Mandalorian would be like in bed. It was inappropriate thoughts of course, but you couldn’t help but have them. His gruff voice and thick thighs haunted your dreams and often you woke soaked through with a sweat that required a few minutes to yourself. You started to wonder if he felt the same way, but with how short he’d been with you this evening, you were certain he didn’t.

“Mando.” You prodded again and he turned his whole body in his chair to give you a look that you’d be willing to bet money on was a glare.

“So obviously we can’t catch this guy.” You started and he started to turn his body away from you with an irritated grunt. “Do you think I’d be this difficult to catch?” You asked him, words rushing from your lips and the Mandalorian sat back in his captains chair with a huff.

“No.” Came the answer a minute later.

“Okay that’s fair.” You nodded to yourself. You’d heard tales from Greef Karga and Cara Dune the one time you met them about the Mandolorians tracking and hunting abilities. And not for the first time, you wondered what it would be like to be tracked by him, and how long you could stay hidden. The thought had you clenching your thighs together and you carefully chose your next words.

“So, how long do you think it would take you to catch me?” You asked and you saw his body seize, as if that was the last thing he expected you to ask. He didn’t even turn towards you when he answered, gravelly voice crackling through the vocoder.

“One hour. Maybe an extra half hour if I gave you a head start.”

“An hour? You cannot be serious! There’s no way I would be that easy to catch.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest in indignation.

“It’s not that you’d be easy, it’s that I know what you’d do.” He told you, body finally turning to face yours.

“What makes you think that? You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I think I’d know how you’d think if you were on the run.”

“I’d like to test your theory. I’ll bet it takes you at least two hours to get me back on the ship.”

“I’ll take that bet.” He told you, moving to stand over you and put the cover on the Child’s pram. He leaned down, his beskar helmet leaning close to your ear. “I’ll even give you the head start.” He told you. You took a hard swallow, shifting in your chair, and had to put effort into speaking your next words.

“Fine. But we need a couple rules. One, no guns. I don’t think you’d actually shoot me, but stun guns aren’t fair either.” He cocked his head to the side as if that was obvious. “Two, I want the full experience, I would like to know if I would survive if I was actually being hunted. And three, we need to keep a com in the pram so we know if the Child wakes. If he wakes, the whole thing is off.” You finished.

“Fine. What do you want if you manage to win?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t think that would happen.

“I want to pilot the Crest one time.” You told him.

“No.” Came the short answer you expected.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Afraid you’ll lose?” You taunted, knowing he couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Fine. But don’t be shocked when I have you back on this ship in less than an hour. You have 20 minutes before I start hunting. Better hurry.” His voice was so rough, so gravelly, that you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together at the sound. You lept from your chair, leaving the Child for Mando and brushed past him. Your chest brushed over his arm on your way out and he reached over, wrapping his fingers around your elbow.

“Be careful. There are lots of creatures who would like to get their hands on you. Take something for protection and signal the coms if you get into trouble. I’ll find you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly at the close proximity and his dark promise. “And if at any point it gets to be too much for you to handle, say aaray. It means pain in Mando’a. I’ll know to stop.” You nodded again, and he released you so you could dash to your quarters.

You dressed quickly, pulling out a black robe with thigh high slits and a black hood, with a low plunging neckline. You knew Mando had never seen you in it, so you were hoping it would confuse him enough to let you win. You strapped on two thigh holsters, one with a knife and the other with a stun gun and pulled your hair back out of your face. You grabbed thick, heavy, black boots and you were out the door of the Crest in under 5 minutes. You sped down the nearest pathway leading towards the town, stopping only when the Crest was out of view to put on your boots.

You pulled up the hood of your robe and hurried quickly through town before realizing you needed to stop and put together a plan. You thought that Mando would be expecting you to hide, laying low and avoiding large crowds so you didn’t make a scene. So you decided to do the opposite and made your way to a bar that was loud and rowdy.

You were shocked when you walked in, knowing that Mando would never expect to find you in a place like this. It was a topless bar, with servers and bartenders not wearing any tops and dancers completely in the nude, spinning expertly on poles. There were men everywhere and you were worried that they might also take you for a dancer and proposition you as such. You didn’t see anything wrong with it, but you held eyes for only one man and that man was currently hunting you. But thankfully for you, there were so many women in the place that no one noticed one more.

You quickly got a drink at the bar, tossing a few credits down for the drink and a few more as a tip to the pretty girl who passed it to you. There was a small booth next to a side entrance, perfect for one person to sit alone and observe. You sat, simultaneously watching the door for a glint of silver and watching the dancers routines. They were truly experts of their craft and you marveled the strength of their bodies.

Also women are pretty.

Your drink was almost finished and you knew your head start time had run out, so you patiently waited to see a flash of the beskar armor at the front entrance. It took Mando longer to appear than you’d expected and as time on the clock ticked by, you got more and more hopeful for a win.

You knew Mando would find you regardless, it was just a matter of getting you back to the ship before the time limit and you were willing to wait that out. After what felt like ages, Mando entered the club, and you knew the second he did. The air left the room and a pathway parted as he made his way in. You smiled, knowing this was only the beginning, and waited until he noticed you.

You smirked at him, watching his body freeze as he tried to decipher your next move, and you were off like a shot into the night. You darted down pathways, taking turns at random until you thought you might have lost him. You crouched down next to a barrel, struggling to catch your breath when you heard footsteps. Taking off in the direction opposite them, you sprinted along the cobblestones until you hit a problem. A dead end. You wedged yourself into the corner, back turned to the ally, hoping your black cloak would blend you into the darkness.

Only when you felt a hard beskar chest plate against your back did you realize what a terrible idea it had been.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” His voice crackled in your ear and something hard pressed up against your backside. You thought it was his codpiece, until you remembered that he didn’t wear one. The realization as to what was pressing against you had you gasping and it took almost too many seconds for you to realize he had the binders in one hand and your right wrist in the other.

But unfortunately for him, he didn’t know all your secrets. Your father had been a clone trooper deserter during the Clone Wars, and had stressed upon you the importance of self-defense. He taught you extensive hand to hand combat and the appropriate way to use a blaster, knife, and spear. So you wiggled your shoulders, trying to find the best angle to get out of Mando’s grasp and he stopped.

“We can stop if you want. I don’t want to hurt you.” After a brief tug in your chest that he didn’t want to hurt you, you used his momentary hesitation against him. Twisting out from under his grasp with a sharp elbow to his side between plates of armor, you freed your hands. His answering grunt made you feel successful as you slid your feet, trying to best gauge your options. His beskar would hurt if you made contact, which only left a few options open for you to attack.

He began to stalk towards you, a low growl in his throat that had you clenching. He was irritated that you managed to get free and he didn’t see it coming. Your best option was to try and land shots between his plates of armor, so that was your goal. The two of you engaged in some hand to hand before you managed to sweep the leg. He went down hard, but managed an arm around your waist, pulling you down on his hips and straining erection.

“Is that a blaster in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” You taunted, and you had no clue where this bravado was coming from. He rolled your bodies, smashing your smaller frame beneath his larger one. You breathed heavily, gathering all your strength and landing a shot on the inside of the elbow supporting his weight and knocking him off balance. You rolled your bodies again, grunting with the effort. Scrambling to get off him before he recovered, you had one foot on the pavement and the other in the air when he managed to get ahold of you. You fell in a huff, hands taking the brunt of your fall as the Mandalorian crawled his way up your body, dragging his hard, heavy, cock along your body as he did.

“You won’t manage that twice.” He said, and you were pleased to hear him breathing heavy with the effort.

“Do you get hard catching all your bounties, Mandalorian?” You taunted as he stretched your hands above your head. He attached binders to one wrist and you wriggled underneath him, feeling the weight of him rest against you.

“Keep quiet.” He warned, but you were enjoying yourself. You were definitely soaked with arousal and his was plain as day.

“Do you fuck any of your bounties, Mando? Claim them with your cock before you turn them over? Or am I special?” You asked, voice filled with arousal at the idea of him fucking you after tracking and catching you. He’d gotten the other binder on while you were speaking and his fingers lingered over your wrists.

“That mouth will get you into trouble one day.” He said, fingers trailing down your cheek and rubbing over your lower lip.

“Good. That was my goal.” You told him and he hauled you up by the arm. “What’re you gonna do with me now, bounty hunter? Fuck me against a wall?” You asked, not quite ready to give up the ruse. Your words annoyed him, you could sense the tension rolling off of his shoulders as he pulled something from his belt and slapped it on the wall above your head. You didn’t know what it was until he hit a button on the binders and they magnetized themselves to the small square. The force with which you hit the wall knocked all the breath out of you and the Mandolorian took advantage of your silence.

“Not so chatty now, are you?” He said, his hard body pressing up against yours as his fingers gripped your chin. “I’ll bet this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Dirty girl.” He said and you blushed because he was right. You’d hoped this would be the thing that broke the sexual tension the two of you had, and judging by the way he was rutting against your thigh, you hadn’t been wrong. His hands bunched in the fabric of your robe, pulling it to the side and brushing his fingers along your core. “No underclothes??” He asked, incredulous. Shaking your head, you answered.

“They would show.”

“Even through my gloves, I can tell how wet you are.” He said, dipping his fingers through your wetness and then pulling them out to examine them. They were soaked, your slick sticking to the leather of the gloves like a second skin. He brought those fingers to your mouth, and uttered one word.

“Suck.”

So you did.

The taste of yourself, combined with the fact that you were bound and in public had you moaning against his fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” He praised you, the leather rough against your tongue. He had three of them in your mouth, slipping slowly in and out of your mouth just like if it was your cunt.

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked you, the hand that wasn’t in your mouth palming your breast. Mouth full, you couldn’t answer, so you just nodded. You whimpered when his finger left your mouth, only to groan when they slipped the V of your robe to the sides and exposed your breasts to the cool night air.

“You like it too. Don’t try to tell me you don’t.” You snapped, inhaling sharply when he pinched a nipple in response. “I’ll bet you were hard against your armor the second I suggested you hunt me.” You told him, knowing you needed to shut your mouth but for some reason you just couldn’t.

“You talk too fucking much.” He told you, pulling his gloves off and tucking one in his utility belt. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was planning on doing with the other, when he seized the opportunity to shove it in your mouth. Startled, you let out a noise deep in your throat that ended as a moan as you tasted yourself again, a sweet and salty taste mixed with the tang of the leather.

“That’s better.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “So wet for me.” He whispered, dragging his fingers back through your folds. They found your nub, circling it in a way that had you bucking your hips. “I’d like to see you suck my cock, but I don’t think we have the time.” His words hit a spot deep inside your core, and you needed more. One arm hooked under your knee, lifting it and opening you up for him as he raised your robes.

“What’s this?” He asked, fingering the holsters and the self-protection items you had hidden there. You shrugged, unable to speak, and he moved his fingers north, finally sinking one into your dripping wet core. Your head slammed back into the stone wall at the feeling but you still needed more. He entered a second finger, pumping slowly. “Do you like keeping weapons on you?” He asked, visor trained where you kept the small knife. You nodded, it made you feel dangerous. His fingers set a punishing pace and you were clenching around him sooner than he anticipated.

“I don’t think so, pretty girl. You’ll come when I tell you to.” You groaned around the leather of the gloves and fought off your orgasm. He pulled his fingers from you, dropping your thigh and taking the glove out of your mouth.

“Suck.” He instructed and shoved his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue tasted your own arousal, salty and sweet at the same time. “I’ll bet you suck a good cock baby girl. One of these days I’ll bury myself down that pretty throat.” He mumbled, second hand stroking lovingly along the hollow of your throat. The pads of his fingers drug along your tongue and you moaned at the feeling. He pulled them out, gagging you with the glove again. His other hand dipped to circle your clit, causing you to buck your hips against him. You ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and dig your fingernails in.

“Think you can take my cock, pretty girl?” And you nodded enthusiastically. Your body was aching to be filled and were thrilled when he hooked your leg again and opened you up to him. He tossed your robes over your hip, leaving you bare and exposed, as he rubbed himself along your folds. Your hips bucked at the feeling and he pulled your other leg up to wrap around his middle, effectively trapping his length between your bodies.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see what you feel like.” He said, hand situating himself so he was right at your entrance. He started the push in, the burn of the stretch making you moan. He pulled the glove out with a compromise.

“If you talk too much, I’ll gag you again. But I want to hear you moan.” Your breath came out in whimpers as he stretched you until he bottomed out, resting his helmet against your forehead. “Ready?”

“Fuck. Mando. Yes.” Was your answer. He started a brutal pace that pushed you up the wall as he entered and slid you down the wall as he pulled out. His fingers pinched your nipples, hands kneading your breasts and you cried out.

“Quiet, girl. Don’t want us to get caught, do you?” He asked but you were too buried in pleasure to answer. “Unless you want that. Want everyone to see how good you take my cock?” He grunted in your ear and all you could do was whimper in response. His fingers circled your clit harshly, making you clench around him.

“Mando. Mando. Mando. Please let me cum Mando please.” You begged, chest heaving from fighting off your impending orgasm.

“Din. Call me Din.” He whispered and your chest seized at the fact that he told you his name. “You’re going to say that name when you cum, pretty girl.”

“Yes Din.” You breathed.

“Now cum.” He instructed and you did, hard. You panted his name, mouth open as he continued to pound into you.

“I’m gonna cum in this sweet pussy.” He told you, thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his end.

“Please cum in me Din. I want to feel you fill me up.” You begged for his cum like a common slut but seconds later he was burying himself in you as thick ropes of cum coated your walls. His helmet rested on the wall by your arms as you both came down from your high, chests heaving.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” You shook your head as he gently lowered you to the ground and de-magnetized your binders. You reached out for him to take them off but he didn’t, instead hoisting you over his shoulder and adjusting your robes so your pussy wasn’t hanging out.

“What the fuck?” You exclaimed as his hand gripped your inner thighs, stained with your combined arousal.

“This is how I take in all my bounties. You’re no different.” He told you and you could feel the chuckle in his voice. You huffed a noise of indignation and smacked his back as best you could with your bound hands. You could feel his cum leaking out of you as he walked and were almost thankful that he was carrying you.

“So what do you want? Since you won?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” He responded and your cheeks flushed with the knowledge that fucking you was his prize. You were quiet the rest of the walk through town, only speaking again when he slid you over his shoulder when you reached the ship.

“How did you find me?” He fixed you with a look that made you feel like the answer should be obvious, but it wasn’t. At your curious glance, he responded.

“I told you. I know how you’d play it.”

“And how did I play it?”

“Well, I assumed your first instinct would be to find somewhere quiet to hide, but you were planning on fighting that instinct because you wanted me to be off balance. I knew you’d find the loudest and most obnoxious place to hide and I wasn’t wrong. The disguise was good, the fighting was better. I didn’t expect you to know how to fight. If it had been someone besides me, you’d have gotten away.” You preened at his praise as he unlocked the binders, and you moved immediately to check on the child. He was fine, obviously, snoring in his pod like nothing had happened. You sighed, heading towards your quarters to freshen up and change but a strong arm on your forearm stopped you.

“Keep that robe on. I’m not done with you yet.”

Masterlist | Taglist

[rostovs-lover]

roy rogers

brian may x reader | cursing, some suggestive language, a little bit of anxiety, alcohol consumption | she/her pronouns | fluffy? slow-burn?? | wc.3667

i’m low key tempted to make a part two,, 

anon : Can I request a super cute fic where Bri needs more money for uni, so he starts offering guitar lessons and the reader has a little brother who really wants to learn how to play, so she signs him up. Maybe her brother is extremely good with a guitar and he has a lot of lessons with Bri. He also sees the reader a lot and he catches feelings HARD. Maybe the reader’s little brother spills something to both of them with the help of the rest of the band and they end of together. I just need major FLUFF

your younger brother thinks his guitar teacher is perfect for you and he’s adamant about getting you together. requests open!!

     A Roy Roger’s is a nonalcoholic drink made of cola and cherry grenadine and topped with a maraschino cherry.

     Your younger brother, David, practically lived in your apartment. For a fourteen year old he was brilliant and very, very sneaky. Sneaky enough to creep out of your mother’s house in the dead of night and crawl up to the fire escape of your second story apartment.

    When you’d stumbled to the kitchen, half asleep, he’d been at the table thumbing through a cookbook. He’d also had the audacity to laugh when you screamed, thinking he was an intruder. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last either.

    “One of these days something is going to be thrown at your head,” You hissed, setting a bowl of cereal in front of David, who looked at it with the utmost disgust.

    “What is this?”

    “Quisp, either eat it or starve.”

    He glowered at you, “I like Waffelos,”

    “That's so sad, I have no money, its Quisp or nothing.” It was quiet for a while as you both ate, David still looking through your cookbook.

    He closed the book, examining the cover as he spoke, “Mum said you have to sign me up for guitar lessons,”

    “Mum said what?”

    “You have to sign me up for guitar lessons, she’ll pay. I have a well of untapped potential in the musical realm. That's according to her coworker, Deirdre.” He sighed, exasperated, “Mum trusts Deirdre apparently because now I have to learn guitar.”

    “Where on earth does mum expect me to sign you up, I mean did she give you any specifics, like a price range? Do you even have a guitar?”

    “First, I have mum’s old guitar. Second, she just said lessons. I think she trusts your judgment.”

    Despite how much you appreciated your mother trusting your judgment, finding reasonably priced guitar lessons with someone who wasn’t a creep was harder than anticipated. You had collected a handful of flyers and business cards, all offering said lessons. The first call you placed was to a nice old lady looking to take up some spare time by providing lessons but she lived too far away for your mother to drive every week. The next was almost promising until you told Robert MacIntere that the lesson was for your brother, not you and he hung up the phone. One woman had too many cats, another man asked for your shoe size, someone else cursed you out when you said you couldn’t do their outlandish prices. The only promising thing you had gotten was a History professor, a very nice man too. You were thrilled when the lessons had finally been scheduled until he bowed out at the last minute and you were back at square one. 

    You had almost given up when, one rainy Thursday evening, you found an advert pinned outside of the auditorium. Guitar lessons, not too far away, open every Tuesday and Wednesday after three o’clock. The document was typed, all except a phone number scrawled on the bottom, almost as if an afterthought. You scratched the number on the palm of your hand and called straight away when you got home.

    The line wrung for several seconds, “Yo?”

    “Hi. Hi, yes I’m calling about a flyer I saw posted at Imperial College? It was an advert for bi-weekly guitar lessons, and your number was on the paper. I was wondering about booking a couple of weeks?”

    The person on the line snorted, “Sorry dear, that’s not me. I assume you’re looking for my mate, just one moment and I’ll gather him-” You heard his hand cover the receiver as she called for someone, “Just one sec’ lovie,”

    The phone was audibly handed off, “Hello?”

    “Hi, um I’m calling about the guitar lessons?”

    “Oh!” His voice, “Yes, of course! That's me, are you looking to schedule one?”

    You had scheduled for the following Tuesday at four, to meet at his apartment. In the car on the way there, David rambled on about everything he wanted to learn and exactly how ecstatic he was for this. He had named his guitar George, after George Harison, who he admired. On the elevator ride up to Brian’s apartment, David was practically vibrating and he bounced on the balls of his feet as you waited at the door.

    The door was opened by a blond, clad in a bathrobe and flannel pyjama pants who puffed at his cigarette as he stared at you, “What brings you here?”

    Before you could speak David, who the blond hadn’t noticed until just then, piped up, “The guitar lessons. I’m the one being taught, [Name] is just sitting in.”

    “Oh, well come in then, I’ll go and get Brian.” He tucked his cigarette behind him and lead you inside, “Um, make yourselves at home, couch is all yours.” He howled Brian’s name and ducked into the kitchen, snuffing out the smoke in an ashtray.

    David got settled on the couch, tugging out his guitar, and you set into a chair. From around the corner rushed a very frantic body, clutching his own guitar. He was very tall, and the black pants he wore made his legs seem unproportionate to his body. What caught your eye the most though was his hair, he had a thick mane of tightly wound black curls, which also added to his height.

    “Hi, I’m very sorry about this, I got a touch caught up in a bit of school work.” He settled onto the couch next to your brother, “You must be David, I’m Brian.” He gestured a hand to your brother.

    David, ever the charmer, shook firmly as he spoke, “Its pleasure meeting you. I wasn’t quite sure that lessons were even going to happen, no one seemed right, according to mum, but you seem nice! Your guitar is neat. Oh! That's my sister, [Name], I believe you spoke on the phone.”

    “We did,” Brian leaned forwards to shake your hand as well, “Its nice to meet you,”

    A better teacher would have been hard to come by. Brian was patient and soft spoken, he worked at your brother’s pace, never rushing past anything he didn’t fully understand. The lesson was only an hour long but it seemed much shorter, with a book in tow you didn’t pay much mind to anything else. That was until you caught yourself glancing over the cover to watch the lesson. Brian was attractive and he had very nice hands. You were somewhat aghast you’d never seen him on campus, he seemed hard to miss.

    The lessons became weekly, and despite trusting Brian and his roommate, Roger, you still opted to stay for every one. It was always pleasant, the apartment was nice, Brian was nice, and you had begun to get acquainted with his friends. During the third week, Roger had let it slip that they were in a band. Brian’s face had flushed scarlet and he’d played with his fingers as he explained that it wasn’t anything serious. On that same visit, you’d had a conversation with Roger in the kitchen while he got you a glass of water. He was nice, only half awake at the time, but you’d realized you had an evolution class together at school. He had also given you his number, and David would absolutely not let you hear the end of it.

    “Please-” Your brother cried as he threw himself onto your sofa, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in ages. The last one was, what was his name?”

    You rolled your eyes, “Chet?”

    “Chet Robbins! Chet the safe bet!”

    “Chet the safe bet? Did you make that up?”

    David smiled, very proudly, “I did! Just now actually, because it's true! Chet, the business student, trust fund child, frat boy. Why not date a drummer?”

    “Because I like stability David,”

    “[Name] date the drummer. I beg, I plead. He was so into you, he gave you his number!”

    “If you will recall, I have his number. Because his number is the apartment number and that's what I called for the lessons. I also refuse to date your teacher’s best friend. How would I approach that, ‘Hi Brian! You’re teaching my brother an instrument, I did your friend last night. How have you been?’”

    David gasped in mock disgust, “I never said a word about doing him. You foul wench, I simply implied dinner. Maybe seeing one of his shows.”

    “Oh my dear, when you date a drummer it's never just dinner.” You snorted.

    “Well, when I date a drummer it will be. Only dinner, no foul play.”

    “Please, please keep that attitude for the rest of your life.”

    It was quiet as he mulled over your words. You started off, putting away your bag and coat when he abruptly sat up, “You don’t dislike the drummer, in fact, it has nothing to do with him. You don’t like my teacher’s best friend, you like my teacher.” He grinned when your face lit up, “Oh you do, you absolutely do! I’ve never seen you blush that hard.”

    “You little twit,” You hissed, “If you say a word about this I will have your head. This stays between us and us only.”

    David was sneaky, very sneaky. Your conversation had planted an idea in his head like a seed and every brief glance and soft smile you shared with his teacher was water. He was growing a downright devious plan, with you directly at the center of it.

    David, after quietly looking over the house and picking up on Brian’s affinity for science fiction, had been the one to recommend you start reading George Orwell’s 1984. He had also purposely disappeared to the restroom when he caught sight of Brian eyeing the cover.

    Brian carefully cleared his throat, “Do you read much Orwell?”

    “Oh, Orwell? No, not really. I, um- I read The Road to Wigan Pier for a book club a while ago. Are you a fan?”

    “Oh yes,” He smiled, leaning forwards, “I’ve read that, actually. I was in a band a few years back by the same name,”

    You cocked your head, closing the book against your finger, “1984?”

    “Yes, quite silly, I know. Never was much good at naming.”

    “Roger said you’re in a band now, what's that called?”

    His cheeks were beginning to pick up a soft pink again, “Um, Queen. Our singer named it-”

    David sat back down, “Did I miss anything important?”

    Brian looked away and you went back to your book. The only noise became the guitar residing between the two boys on the couch. David had learned enough to start on a song, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash. It was recognizable enough to draw your attention, and it was lovely at first until it was all David played. When you returned home, when you visited your mother, he played it so much you had memorized the fingering to it.

    It was at another lesson, several weeks later, when you had been left by your lonesome. David had gone to get a drink and Brian had run to retrieve something from his room. All alone and with nothing to tell you not to you settled into the couch with the guitar and tried at the song. It was choppy, a bit off-key, but mostly there.

    “I didn’t know you played?” Brian’s voice was soft but you still jumped, shooting around to find him. Leaned against the back of the sofa he twirled a coin between his fingers, grinning down at you.

    You swallowed, “I don’t, no, not really. Dave’s just played this so much I remembered how it looked.” 

    He propped his chin in his hand, “I think you could be quite good. Just, here-” He slipped the coin between his teeth to reach down, softly grasping your wrist, adjusting your placement on the neck. His hands were warm and it sent a shiver up your spine as he carefully moved your fingers, “That should do nicely, I trust you’ll do well with the right placement.” He was quiet for a moment, silently pondering something, “Friday night we have a show at about ten o’clock, say you come and maybe I could show you something on the guitar afterwards.”

    You considered, “Where is it?”

    “The Cameo, downtown London.”

    “It sounds lovely, very, but I have to admit I’m not big on the downtown London clubs. I actually don’t know where that is. Although I do have a friend whos well versed with the scene, I could ask her to show me there?”

    “Wonderful,” He grinned, “It's a date!” Something else David wouldn’t let go of. Usually, all he talked about was the music he learned but now he was enthralled with the prospect of a new romantic venture. You had been informed on exactly how to dress, what makeup to wear, what drink to order. He also picked the exact shade of blue for you to paint your nails.

    You called Marilla after your mother picked David up and she had agreed, enthusiastically, to show you to the club. When she arrived you had been called ‘prudish’ and were forbidden to dress yourself. In the very back of your closet was a floral dress you’d bought for a wedding reception that never happened. It was supposed to be returned but you just hadn’t gotten around to it.

    “It doesn’t scream rock n’ roll,” She inspected the green fabric under the kitchen light, “But anyone can look like Twiggy with enough eyeshadow so it’ll have to do. You should invest in club clothes, you might have to if anything goes with this guitar player.” Her eyebrows wagged.

    You rolled your eyes, taking the dress from her, “Hush, you’re just as bad as David.”

    “Your brother?” Marilla snorted, “What's he got to do with this?”

    “He's an insufferable little shit, that's what-” You pushed off your top, “At first he tried to get me with the guitar player’s flatmate but when that didn’t work he really pushed Brian and I,”

    Marilla was amused, far more amused than you, “He's a cunning thing, I’ve always liked him. Oh boy, now I really want to see your guitarist, Brian was it?”

    The club pulsed, dull lights glaring down against everything. It was smokey and smelled of weed and whiskey. The band onstage was far too loud and you clung to Marilla’s hand as she pulled you up to the bar.

    “What do you want?” She practically had to yell for you to hear but it went through you, you couldn’t think with all the noise and lights. She sighed and patted your hand, “A Moscow mule and a Roy Roger’s please.” She shouted at the bartender, “It's alright babes, no alcohol, just fancy cherry coke.” You nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip as you scanned the crowd. The band onstage had seemed to conclude their set but it didn’t make things any quieter. It was overwhelming really, moreso as Marilla started to pull you up to the front.

    “Come on, it's almost ten. Your boy’ll be up next!” She settled in front of the stage, rooting you to the spot next to her.

    Brian’s flatmate came out, twirling a drumstick between his fingers and he was met with loud cheers. Marilla whooped, waving big up at him. He was followed by the bass player, Brian, and the singer. They were all enthralling, and you were enraptured. The boys on stage looked ethereal, in flowy tops and sparkly makeup. The frontman was clad in glittery jewelry and the bass player wore platform boots. Their music drew you in and eased your nerves about how crowded the club was. The last song had a guitar solo and as he played Brian’s eyes met yours. A rose of warmth bloomed into your cheeks and he grinned, fingering at the chords.

    Marilla, immune to none, elbowed you in the ribs, “That's him?!”

    You nodded, “It is,”

    “Damn girlie! Good for you! But for the record, I think I like the drummer,”

    “His name is Roger. If you come backstage with me you can meet him.”

    She grinned, “I’m so proud of you, getting connections!” As they finished Roger flung one of his drumsticks into the crowd. You flinched as Marilla’s hand shot out. She squawked as she caught it, quickly tucking it into her pants and taking your hand, pulling you towards the back lounge. She pushed at the thin curtain to the side, slipping in.

    It was quieter and you watched people in glamorous outfits dally about. A redhead in hot pants dropped onto the shabby leather sofa, passing glass bottles of something to both the drummer and bassist. The singer was swirling what you could only assume to be a cosmopolitan. He looked up, catching sight of you and Marilla, both looking a bit lost.

    “Hello, come come!” The singer waved you over and Marilla practically dragged you.

    “You are spectacular!” She raved, “All of you, magical!” She tugged the stick out of her waistband and made her way to the drummer.

    You cleared your throat, “You really are amazing, you have a lovely voice.”

    The brunette smiled, “Thank you! I’m Freddie by the way, our charming drummer is Roger. The lovely John plays bass and Brian should be around here somewhere, he plays the guitar.”

    “It's nice to meet you, Freddie, I’m [Name]. I was actually looking for Brian,” You twiddled with your fingers, looking down, “He asked to meet here tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is would you?”

    “You know, he may have popped to the kitchen. I’ll show you,” Freddie stood up. He seemed to catch your hesitation, glancing back to Marilla, “I’ll keep an eye on her. Roggie really is no harm, he plays much bigger than he actually is, I don’t think he could hurt a soul. Not an undeserving one at least.” He started towards the kitchen with you in tow.

    Aforementioned kitchen was small and shockingly clean. Your guitarist sat on the counter with a glass of water.

    Brian seemed to be in his own world until Freddie caught his attention, “Someone’s been looking for you, my dear,”

    Brian looked up, “[Name]! Hello, I’m so glad you came!” He slid off the counter setting his drink down, “Did you bring your friend?”

    “I did, she’s become infatuated with Roger though.”

    He grinned, “Oh Rog seems to do that to some people.”

    “Well, I'll leave you to it!” Freddie called, waving and walking back to the lounge.

    When the door shut Brian began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, “I left my guitar in the other room, I could go and grab it if you’d still like to learn that song.” He studied your face, “But you don’t look comfortable, are you alright?”

    “Yes, this just isn’t really my scene. I’m not used to the noise and everything, there's a lot of people here.”

    He smiled sympathetically, “I know, it's crowded. There's a nice little diner just down the road, we could walk there and talk if you’d like.”

    You nodded, “Sure, that would be lovely.”

    The air was crisp and it brought you back to reality from the club. Brian had lent you an extra sweater he had brought, it was warm but you had to roll the sleeves a few times. It was quiet as you walked, the occasional car rushing past. The sidewalk narrowed as you got closer to the strip of restaurants and you felt the back of Brian’s hand brush yours. You caught his fingers, lacing yours into them and nervously looking up. His expression mimicked yours, jittery and shy and totally taken.

    “You look very pretty,” He murmured, thumbing over your knuckles, “That green looks very nice on you.”

    You smiled, “Thank you, you look lovely as well.”

    “Oh pish posh, this is just stage wear. But I’m glad you think it looks okay, Rog said I looked frumpy.”

    You giggled, “Marilla, the one who brought me, called me prudish earlier.”

    His laugh was soft, “Well, we can be fashion disappointments to our friends together,” He pulled open the door to MaryAnne’s Diner, holding it for you.

    You were settled in a booth waiting for your order when Brian spoke, “David really has potential,”

    “With the guitar? I’m not surprised, he's always been good at everything he tries. It's really quite annoying, how brilliant he is.”

    “He seems so, a very nice kid. Does he live with you?”

    “No no,” You smiled, “No he lives with our mum, he just sneaks out to see me more than he should. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for letting me sit in, I know it's not common practice. I just worry about him, he seems so much older than he actually is and I’m worried it’ll get him in trouble one day.”

    Brian patted your hand, “Oh darling, I understand. I really don’t mind at all, I’m glad I met you.”

    “I’m glad I’ve met you as well.”

    He had walked you home, contently explaining the story behind one of the constellations he saw.

    He stalled at the door, keeping your hand in his, “So I suppose I’ll see you next week?”

    “Absolutely,”

    He moved one hand to push a piece of hair out of your face, “Well until then I suppose,”

    You leaned up, closing in on him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks, “Is this okay?”

    He nodded, “More than,” And pulled you into him. 

     He was as gentle in kissing you as he was in everything else, carefully nudging his nose against yours. His mouth was warm and he stroked your mandible, easing deeper into the kiss. He relished in the taste of maraschino cherry from the Roy Roger’s you’d had earlier. You gasped softly as he nipped at your bottom lip, pulling away. The lipgloss he had been wearing was smeared against the corner of your mouth and he carefully wiped at it with his thumb.

    David would never let you hear the end of this either.

[dearest-kibble]

yan kenma who has you locked up in his apartment- it’s been some time and you’ve given up escaping but you know he live-streams so you kind of start living small clues that you’re there in hope someone will figure it out? but instead of a viewer kenma finds out; and instead of stopping you he just decides to taunt you and play along to the point his viewers make it an inside joke- the emotional rollercoaster that would be? he wouldn’t have to punish you- the crushing despair is enough alone

This is so deliciously fucked up I love it,,, thank you anon, Kenma hits so different. I love him thank you so so so much. i am working on so much,,, thank you for being patient with all my uhhh lateness? this kinda became something a little different than the prompt but hopefully thats good?

Kenma Kozume x Fem reader

tw: Typical yandere-ness, humiliation? Sexism? Mentioned stalking, (If im missing anything please let me know my brain isn’t functioning rn)

You’re sitting on his lap, camera angled so that no one’s view is obstructed by your body, but so that all his views can clearly see you. You’ve been here so long, any hope of leaving, ironically, has left you. But, the thought crept slowly, surely, deeply into your brain and hasn’t left. You turn around on Kenma’s lap, straddling him and you’re sure the live chat is going a little crazy at the thought of Kodzuken having someone in his lap while he streams and he’s probably going to tell you to get off soon, but you’ve got the chat’s attention, and you are going to work with it. You tap Kenma’s cheeks, slight squish on them and you know he hates that it’s on camera all the same, you drum three fingers on his cheek, smiling at him for the camera as your fingertips meet his clammy skin. He doesn’t tell you to stop so across his cheek you swipe your thumb three times as tenderly as possible. As you stand from his lap, you pat his cheeks, three times delicately. You look into his eyes, still as calculating as when you met him, a deceptively warm amber with the tiniest hint of frustration (and somewhere inside, you know it’s probably with you but you can’t care.)

“I’m gonna sit on the couch, ‘kay?” You call softly, hoping you were subtle enough with your plea.

“Oh, okay,” And you think you’re free before he calls a “Wait! Come back for a little.” You’re even halfway to the couch before the words rope you back in. He beckons you to lean down, and whispers into your ear. “I noticed you trying to sign to get out. Morse code isn’t as subtle as you think, you might as well just ask them to get you out,” You chance a quick look towards chat.

“Was that morse code?”

“Holy shit! Yeah, I think that was SOS.”

“You think they actually need to get out or it’s one of those ‘my bfs terrible’ jokes?”

“You see the way they were straddling? Def not a hate my bf sorta thing.”

“See?” He’s still whispering into your ear, game forgotten in lieu of what might be called humiliation.  “They won’t believe you because you want to be here. Regardless of what you say, you would’ve left already if you didn’t.” He smiles at you and affectionately pats your head. Like he’d pet a cat. The idea is still in your mind, though perhaps a little shallower. You glance at the chat once more, someone is still talking about it, but Kenma pushes you away with a “I’ll get you when I’m done, okay?” You end your night on the couch with Kenma. He smiles at you and puts your legs on his lap.

The next livestream is two days after the last one. You have something planned once more, hopefully more effective.

“I’m playing minecraft today, I could set up your computer, and we could play together?” His small smile is back. And though a kind gesture, all you can think about is how easily you could make a point.

“Okay!” The earlier plan is immediately forgotten, and thoughts of what you could do in a game, fills your mind. “Will I have a mic?”

“No, I can’t have you telling them can I?” And it clicks, because of course he’d taunt you. But it’s like your brain grew claws that cannot lose their hold.

“Will I have a camera?” And you know the answer, but Kenma might still surprise you. You’ve already had one shock tonight, maybe you’ll get another.

“No. Sorry. You have chat though.” He pats your head again, ruffling your hair. “I’ve already got you set up, c’mon.” He tugs at your hand, pulling gently.

“Thanks Kenma.” He’s put another computer across from his desk on a much smaller table made for playing cards.

“You’re all set up.”

“Yeah.” He clicks the mouse a few times, waves at the camera to his right. “Can everybody hear me?” He waits a few seconds for chat’s response. “Chat is saying yes, so let’s get right in?” He smiles sheepishly to his camera.

“Hi everyone, I’ m Kodzuken and today we are,” He pauses to look at you with honeyed amber eyes. “Playing Minecraft with my partner.” He nods in your direction. You just open the minecraft tab, the only shortcut that seems to be on the computer.

“It’s a LAN server, click that, okay?” So you click it and say nothing. You start to go through the motions of chopping a tree, making sticks, making a crafting table. Kennma is narrating what he does, and you’re not even sure where he is in game until you're knocked back and turn your mouse to look at him.

“Yeah, I know - she should be relying on me.” He’s responding to something in chat, he’s gotta be. You type a quick,

“What’re they saying?”

“Oh, that my girlfriend shouldn’t be so independent, you rely on me - I'm your boyfriend.” Kenma says it so casually, so acerbically that you immediately take off sprinting from the forest in game.  

“She has these bouts - you saw them last stream - where she likes to try and ‘get away’.” Kenma laughs softly; little glockenspiel notes falling from his mouth. “It’s a really cute joke honestly! Anyway, I’ll put my minecraft bed next to hers later, right now...” You stop paying attention and start planning how you’d try to get your point across more clearly. You could make signs, say “Get me out!” Like Kenma suggested.

“Hey! He looks over the screen at you, piercing eyes staring right through you. “Don’t go off on your own, we’re staying together alright?”

“No.” He’ll have to deal with chatting, possibly hearing you by himself. And you continue through the coded forest. It goes pretty smoothly, though you’re sure Kenma is trying to find you, you’ve already created a mine for yourself, and made a little sign with instructions that reads: “Get me out!”

“Her voice is quite cute, isn’t it? I’ll get to hear it for the rest of my life.” He continues humming out yes’s and no’s to his audience that sit captivated in a land of blocks and pixels.

“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom, is it alright if my girlfriend takes over for me?” He stands, and waves you over into his chair that’s been made for gaming and padded with red accents. He watches you with his cat-like eyes as you sit down and pats your head. “I’ll be right back Kitty, behave.” And you hear his soft footsteps get farther away and the creak of the door twice before you finally look at chat.

Woa, Kudzu got lucky huh?

“Please,” You don’t sound nearly as someone might think you would. You’ve been here too long. “Get me out of here?”

Sure sweetheart, just come over to my place first.

“Just - get me away from him please!”

Girls are so whiny huh?

Hey man, its funny at least amiright?

“It’s not a joke -”

She’s really committed to this bit huh

Damn iim staartin to feel bad for ken

Me to :(

“I’ve been here for year and I don’t want to-”

Wow. what an ungrateful bitch.

Ikr? She’s got a bf and everything and she wants to get out?

“No- it’s not like that - he stalked me for months I-” And the familiar desperation you thought hoped beyond all hope that you had lost bleeds back into your voice all repression surfaces like the tide in your eyes.

Oh fuxxx we made her cry.

relax bet she’s just on her period or smth

“I am not!” A bubble of snot pops from your nose and mucus drips uncomfortably to your lips. “I just-”

What could you want that you don’t have.

“My house! My job! My friends!” And your voice breaks

She wants to go back to a job?

Crazy lady huh.

She wants friends when all she really needs is a man? smh.

“Kitten, what-”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” It’s an outburst that you’ll regret later, for one reason or another. But for now it’s a small comfort to speak your mind. With your voice wavering and congested, you choke out a “Let me go home.” Kenma’s eyebrows furrow but his eyes are still the calculating, cold amber they always are.

“Shh shh, it’s okay.” Instead of the quick pats he’s so fond of, he strokes your hair and massages the nape of your neck like he’s picking up a kitten who's gotten into a fight. “I’m going to cut the stream, okay?”

Who’d want to leave Ken, he’s cutting the stream short to help his gf.

…….yeah

I feel bad.

“You should. Please don’t make her cry.” A few clicks later and the stream cuts. “Do you want me to upload that one?” To get your message out? You’d do anything.

“Yes please…” Someone will have to see it. How miserable you are.

“Then it’ll go up, okay?” He pats your back twice, and he stands again to sit at the computer. Out of the blue he speaks again. “They’re right.” No no no no no. “I’m lucky, i’m so glad you're here with me and that you won’t leave.”

“I will get out!” The proof of your white hot anger is breaking the dam built in your throat.

“Where will you go? Your friends don’t know where you’ve gone, they won’t be happy with you coming back unannounced.”

“My parents-”

“You can rely on me, you don’t need anyone else.”

“But I-”

“Shhh kitty, you’re overreacting let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a stressful day.” And so he walks you back to the room you share that's covered in pictures, and he tucks you under the covers and dries your tears with a blanket. He whispers words to you, faint little nothings about games he’s going to play that you’ll enjoy watching and little bits of trivia about what “Kuroo” is up to. Eventually you fall asleep, with his hand in your hair and a chair pulled up close so he can stare. You both know it but no one will admit, some part of him will always enjoy how you lose hope so quickly.

--

once again! This should not’ve taken so long,,,, and it kinda deviates from request but! there we are! also,,,, you can’t tell me that like,,,,,,, kenma hasn’t been at least exposed to incels and or like,,,, really sexist guys he streams on twitch or youtube or something so- also thank you anon,,, i really like this one