#and i'm willing to go lower if he needs to but still. waiting to hear back from him but i'm very encouraged

[practically-an-x-man]

the best thing for an artist who works mainly in local theatre to hear

'I'm in a position to pay you what your labor is worth'

[revelboo]

Just letting you know because of you and your amazing fics I got a soundwave blokees (I'm so sane and will not need anymore (I'm going dellulu)

But he’ll be lonely…

They’re excited about a road trip

Everything Is Alright Pt 83

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Megatron finding out was inevitable,” he says, deep tonal voice low as his servos flex. Wishes he could reach for you even if it’s just to slide a servo against your hair. But he can feel that molten anger just barely leashed from the Seeker. Knows any move to come closer will be met with violence. You’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Starscream will never trust him again. “Safe under his protection now.” Only because it amuses the warlord to have a way to manipulate Starscream and ensure good behavior. He knows how precarious this is. How dangerous.

• “His protection?” Starscream snarls, wings trembling slightly in fury. Of course, Soundwave thinks you’re safe now. He’s never been on the receiving end of Megatron’s fury, always been favored. You’ll just be a toy he can amuse himself with until he grows bored or breaks you. Toying with you just to hurt him, amusing himself with casual violence just to hear you in pain. “I’ve seen how little his protection is worth.”

• Uncertain, you look between them. Torn between the fear Starscream’s anger is sparking and wanting to believe that Soundwave really did this as a kindness. That he’d been trying to keep you safe. You know them both. Are familiar with them. Megatron’s a complete unknown. He hasn’t harmed you yet, but if Star’s right his temper is too mercurial to trust. But maybe it’s like when you first figured out how starved Star was for validation. You’d manipulated him, feeding his ego to stay alive. Eventually you hadn’t had to lie to him, you’d started actually caring. You can play the same game with Megatron. Figure out how to be what he needs to keep yourself and Star safe until he bores of you. “Okay,” you say tiredly.

• “You can’t possibly believe him,” Starscream growls, looking down at you, wings flaring. Venting tiredly when you lay a hand on his chassis. “Primus.” Your trusting nature is going to be the end of him. Knows it, but still can’t bring himself to crush your trust, because if not for it, he wouldn’t have this. Have you. All because you’d trusted him again and again. Just kept reaching for him. So believe what you need to, and he’ll keep watch, waiting for the next betrayal. “Megatron is dangerous.”

• Spark aching that you’re still willing to take him at his word even though he hurt you, Soundwave’s head lowers. Because the Seeker isn’t wrong. Megatron is unpredictable and his anger all consuming. “We can protect. Keep him in line.” You’re looking up at him, eyes uncertain as the Seeker laughs, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling. Hoping this isn’t a mistake. That he made the right decision even as he’s not sure how to curb the warlord’s worst impulses. This was the only path forward, though. Needs to believe that it won’t cost him everything. Because what he has now? He’s not sure he’d survive losing it without finding out where it will go. Wants to wake up to your warmth against him, feel you drowsing in his cassette compartment, your wild emotions spinning him tight when he touches you. Wants everything.

Previous

Next

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The Dry Spell

It's fairly common knowledge that first responders work long shifts together, often 24 or 48 hours at a time. This kind of togetherness builds strong bonds and makes it nearly impossible to keep secrets. Which was why the entire station seemed to know that Buck and Tommy were in a bit of a dry spell right now.

Buck was in the locker room, changing after a particularly grueling shift. He didn't mean to start venting, but Hen had asked how things were going at home, and before he knew it, he was spilling his guts.

"I mean, it's been over 3 weeks," Buck said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And yes, partially it's been us having opposite schedules, but it hasn't only been that. It's just...3 weeks. I'm starting to go crazy."

Hen nodded sympathetically, leaning against the lockers. "That's rough, Buckaroo. Have you talked to Tommy about it?"

Buck sighed, closing his locker with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I've tried, but every time I bring it up, something comes up. A call, Emmett needs something, one of us is too tired... It's like the universe is conspiring against us."

He lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "And the worst part? I'm turned on like, all the time now. It's getting ridiculous. Yesterday, I got distracted during dinner because Tommy reached across the table for the salt. The salt, Hen!"

Hen tried to suppress a smile, but failed. "Oh, Buck. You've got it bad."

"I know," Buck groaned. "It's like I'm a teenager again. I can't focus. Every little thing Tommy does is suddenly the hottest thing I've ever seen. This morning, he was just getting ready for his shift, putting on his flight suit, and I nearly lost it."

"Maybe you two need to schedule some alone time," Chimney chimed in as he walked into the locker room. "You know, make it a priority."

Buck flushed red. "Chim! How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you're about to combust," Chimney teased. "Seriously though, Buck. Talk to your husband. I'm sure he's feeling it too."

Buck nodded, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping up his neck. "Yeah, you're right. I just... I miss him, you know? Not just the physical stuff, but the intimacy, the connection. Though right now, I wouldn't say no to the physical stuff either." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and a sly grin spread across his face. "Wait a minute, Chim. Does this mean you're offering to babysit Emmett?"

Chimney's eyes widened as he realized the implication of his advice. "I, uh..."

Hen burst out laughing. "Oh, he's got you there, Chim! You can't give advice without being willing to back it up."

Chimney sighed dramatically, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fine, fine. Maddie and I can take Emmett for a night. But I don't want to hear any details, got it?"

Buck's face lit up. "Chim, you're a lifesaver! I promise, no details. Just... thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Chimney waved him off, but he was smiling. Just make it count, Buckaroo."

Buck's blush deepened, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Finally, a chance for some alone time with Tommy. Now he just had to make it through his shift without spontaneously combusting at the thought.

It took everything in Buck's power not to speed home. As soon as he walked through the door, he called out, "Tommy!"

"In the kitchen, babe," Tommy's voice replied.

Buck rushed into the kitchen, his eyes wild with excitement. "Pack Emmett a bag. We gotta go!"

Tommy turned from the stove, spatula in hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Sex," Buck blurted out, his cheeks flushing. "Lots of sex. So much sex."

Tommy's eyebrows shot up, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, but I'm still not sure I follow."

Buck took a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to explain coherently. "Okay, so I may have been venting at work about our... dry spell. And Chimney offered to babysit Emmett for the night so we could have some alone time."

Understanding dawned on Tommy's face, followed quickly by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I see. And you're in such a hurry because...?"

"Because," Buck said, stepping closer to Tommy, his voice dropping low, "I've been going crazy thinking about you all day. Do you know how distracting you are? This morning, watching you put on your flight suit... I nearly lost it right there."

Tommy's eyes darkened with desire. "Is that so?" he murmured, setting down the spatula and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist.

"Mhmm," Buck hummed, leaning in for a kiss. "I've been imagining all the things I want to do to you once we're alone."

Just as their lips were about to meet, they heard the patter of little feet.

"Daddy! Papa!" Emmett's voice called out.

They broke apart, both chuckling but with heat still in their eyes. "I'll go pack his bag," Tommy said, pressing a quick kiss to Buck's cheek. "You go tell him he's having a sleepover with Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim."

As Tommy headed upstairs, Buck called after him, "I'll text Maddie to pick him up. The sooner they get here..."

Tommy paused at the top of the stairs, throwing a smoldering look over his shoulder. "The sooner we can pick up where we left off."

Buck grinned, anticipation coursing through him. "Exactly."

As they separated to prepare for their evening, both men felt a surge of excitement. Buck quickly sent a text to Maddie, asking if they could pick Emmett up as soon as possible. Then he went to find their son, his mind already racing with thoughts of what the night would bring once they were alone.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Buck opened it to find Maddie, Chimney, and Jee-Yun.

"Uncle Buck!" Jee exclaimed, hugging his legs.

"Hey there, munchkin," Buck said, ruffling her hair. "Thanks for coming so quickly, guys."

Chimney raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face. "No problem. Wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

Buck felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, Tommy appeared with Emmett and his overnight bag.

As they said their goodbyes to Emmett, promising to pick him up tomorrow afternoon, Buck and Tommy exchanged heated glances. The moment the door closed behind Maddie, Chimney, and the kids, Tommy turned to Buck, his eyes dark with desire.

"Now," Tommy said, his voice low and full of promise, "where were we?"

Buck lunged forward, capturing Tommy's lips in a searing kiss. Their bodies pressed together, and both men groaned at the contact, feeling the evidence of each other's arousal.

"Tommy," Buck gasped, breaking the kiss. "I need you. It's been too long."

Tommy's hands roamed Buck's back, pulling him even closer. "I know, baby. I've missed you too."

As they stumbled into their bedroom, Buck couldn't take his eyes off Tommy. The need to touch, to feel, to taste was overwhelming. Without breaking eye contact, Buck slowly sank to his knees in front of Tommy, his intentions clear.

Tommy's breath hitched, his eyes dark with desire. "Evan," he breathed, voice rough with want.

Buck's hands trembled as he reached for Tommy's belt. "Please," he murmured, "I need this. Need you."

Tommy cupped Buck's face gently, his touch a stark contrast to the urgency thrumming through both their bodies. "We've got all night, baby. Let's take our time, ok?"

Buck nodded, but didn't move from his position. The anticipation was electric, every nerve ending on fire. As Tommy's fingers carded through his hair, Buck leaned forward, ready to show his husband just how much he'd missed him.

They had hours ahead of them to reconnect, to relearn each other's bodies, to make up for lost time. And they intended to savor every moment.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief suggestive themes, brief discussion about terrorism, minor violence & blood

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Part Twenty-Six of Ink & Needle

Simon tries to move on. An enemy from Simon's past drops in for a chat.

Chapter Twenty-Five // Chapter Twenty-Seven

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Two Months Later

Numbness is an affliction.

It burrows deep like a nesting animal. There it slumbers. Reproduces. Expands.

Simon is full of holes. He oozes apathy.

Life is meaningless. Directionless.

Cracking his neck, Simon rolls his shoulders and adjusts his posture. The woman in the tattoo chair, Rebecca, is leaned back, legs extended as Simon tattoos a floral piece onto her thigh. It's an intricate web of color and shading.

Four hours in and Simon is still hollow. His art was his lifeblood. Every tattoo and piercing felt special no matter how small.

This is just skin rubbed raw.

Broken bones.

Shattered teeth.

Simon switches hands, flexing his fingers to expel the tightness. Every muscle aches with weariness and it's not from being hunched over for hours. There is a deeper chasm and gnawing teeth that chew chew chew away at the folds in his brain.

Maybe he just needs to get laid. A quick, dirty, hard fuck with a stranger that won't mean shit after it's said and done. Maybe, Simon needs to just get you out of his system. To move on.

To fucking move on.

Simon dips back into the ink and thinks of nothing but the lines and the color and the shading. He hears the soft chime of the door, but Simon does not glance up. If he only remains focused, then maybe this will pass.

Footsteps approach. A bit heavy. A man’s stride.

"Be with you in a minute," says Simon, keeping his attention on the tattoo in front of him.

He ignores the footfalls, knowing that if he does, they’ll circle back and pop a seat in the waiting area.

But they do not halt. Nor do they retreat.

Closer they come until the visitor’s body casts a long shadow over Simon, obscuring the light, and fracturing all of his patience. With as much calmness as Simon can muster, he switches off the tattoo gun and places it on the rolling cart next to him.

Sighing, Simon turns, ready to tell this fucker off. "If you'd go have a seat—”

As Simon's gaze sweeps outward, the remainder of his words are snatched from his lungs. A memory stands before him. A distant reality.

This is not love or comfort. This is dark tidings.

A grease fire made worse by adding water.

Whatever numbness lurks in Simon’s bones is quickly giving way to rage—blinding, immovable rage.

Simon stands abruptly, nearly knocking over both the rolling chair and cart. Rebecca jumps, startled by the sudden movement.

“Hello, Simon,” grins Kit Walsh. “Good to see you, mate.”

Simon's vision narrows like a train tunnel. Everything about the man in the same from his crow-like features and black hair to his weight and build. It’s the burn scars on the side of his neck and lower portion of Walsh’s face that are different. Even the smug fucking smile on Walsh’s face is the same.

The instinct to immediately swing on Walsh lurches through Simon’s muscles.

"Careful," murmurs Walsh with a hint of a giggle, as if knowing Simon's impulse. "Don't want any nasty surprises."

Simon straightens his shoulders, willing the rage down down until it resembles nothing more than a controlled burning.

"I'm with a client," replies Simon slowly. "We can do this after."

"Aces," shrugs Walsh, hands in his pockets. "I'm next on the list anyway."

Walsh winks at Rebecca and struts backward toward the sofa. Bravo is on edge, ears perked up, fur standing on end as he carefully observes Walsh’s retreat.

I’m next on the list.

Simon removes his gloves. "Let's take ten," he says to Rebecca, not caring if his tone is sharp.

Tossing the gloves into the nearest rubbish bin, Simon heads for his laptop. Awakening the screen, Simon looks over his client list for the day. After Rebecca’s is a man's name. Generic. Nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, Walsh wouldn't use his actual name. And the appointment has been booked for almost four months.

What the fuck are you up to, Walsh.

As Rebecca drinks some water and taps away at her phone, Simon heads to Walsh, keeping his voice low.

“Are you—”

“The very same,” interrupts Walsh, that smug smile still cleanly in place.

"You're lucky I haven't ripped your goddamn face off," whispers Simon.

Walsh leans back against the couch. "Don't threaten me with a good time," laughs Walsh with a flirtatious bite.

With a slowness that’s almost comical, Walsh opens up the side of his coat, revealing enough explosives to demolish the entire street.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Insurance," shrugs Walsh, closing his coat. "In case the life of your sweetheart isn't enough of an incentive."

Two months and only silence.

"She's alive?"

"Course she is, mate," replies Walsh, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Why would I kill her?"

"Because you're a fucking bastard, Kit,” hisses Simon. “And I don't bloody trust you."

Walsh casually withdraws a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. As he goes to light it, Simon snatches the cigarette right out of Walsh's mouth.

"You're no fun," mutters Walsh, pocketing the lighter.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk," says Walsh. "And to get some of that award winning art on my body." He glances over Simon's shoulder. "Looks like those ten minutes are up."

Simon scowls behind the balaclava. "This isn't over."

Walsh holds up his hands placatingly as Simon steps back and returns to his current client. His focus is scattered—fractured. Each time Simon brings the tattoo gun to skin, he glances over at Walsh, making sure the man hasn't moved.

Walsh remains seated, relaxed, legs spread wide and arms stretched over the back of the couch. Bravo sits between Simon and Walsh, facing the man, licking his chops like he's just waiting for Walsh to act up.

This has to be a fucking joke. A prank.

"What do you think?" Simon asks Rebecca.

She sits up, and then slowly stands, admiring Simon’s work in the full-length mirror. "Better than I imagined. This is amazing."

Payment is exchange, and Rebecca disappears with a light skip in her step. If this were any other day, Simon might feel a bit of joy at a client’s happiness. But not when Kit Walsh is sitting just a few feet away.

"You're talented," says Walsh. "Never took you for the artsy type.”

"There's a lot you don't know about me,” mutters Simon, removing the black disposable gloves and tossing them into the nearby bin.

Walsh sucks his teeth and then stands, removing his coat, revealing the explosives. Simon sprays down the tattooing chair with sanitizer, observing the wiring. All that time with Johnny and you pick up a few things you didn’t before.

From what Simon can tell, there is no detonator in either of Walsh’s hand, but it could be anywhere. If it’s not on him, it’s likely in the hands of one of his cronies. Either they’re watching or listening in, waiting for the cue to blow the entire street.

"I'm think something large,” sighs Walsh, tossing his coat onto the sofa. “To cover up the burns. Just like you did."

Simon pauses, hand hovering for a moment before he continues cleaning the chair. “Most of my scars are blacked out. Solid ink.”

“No fancy designs?” asks Walsh, rolling up his sleeve slowly to reveal his bare arm.

Simon tosses the disposable rag into the bin and then washes his hands. “Wanting something fancy?” he asks over his shoulder, shaking his hands before drying them off. “That’ll cost extra.”

Walsh whistles lowly. “Drive a hard bargain. But you know I’m good for it.”

"Not if it's cash," replies Simon, turning on him. "I have no use for weapons or smack. And don’t even think about offering me a credit card. They’re always fucking stolen."

"Pity," sniffs Walsh. "You were always fond of a good blade."

Simon changes out the needles, opening a fresh set and placing a second on the rolling cart. “How’s that chest wound treating you, Kit?” asks Simon, glancing over at Walsh only to find a sneer. “Sorry, mate. Did I hit a spot?”

"I could give the order, you know,” murmurs Walsh. “Have her strung up. Severed. Delivered in pieces to your front door."

Some of Simon’s fire recedes. At his silence, Walsh chuckles as if he didn’t just threaten your life. “No jokes now, Riley? No death threats?”

"Tell me what you want and then get the fuck out of my shop."

Walsh grins, leaning in. "I want a tattoo."

"Fuck. You."

Walsh leans away, resting the back of his head against the chair, settling in like he’s just another customer. “And to talk.”

Simon doesn’t reply. He continues to set up his cart with everything he needs.

Walsh twiddles his thumbs before breaking the silence. “Missed you.”

“Piss off,” mutters Simon, grabbing two black disposable gloves.

Picking up a purple marker, Simon rolls over to the tattoo chair, observing Walsh's bare arm. It's riddled with burn scars. Though healed, it's clear he never underwent surgery to correct some of it. Simon remembers those surgeries, remembers the skin grafts. Walsh's skin is all puckered and raw but healed. It'll be hell on the needles as much as it'll be on Walsh's skin.

With more gentleness than Walsh deserves, Simon makes two marks with the marker. A start point, and an end.

"Blacking it out?" asks Walsh.

"You don't get anything extra just because you booked under a false name,” retorts Simon. “And with your scars it’ll hurt more. Take a bit more time.”

Walsh’s gaze is assessing, moving over Simon’s upper body. “Will it be like yours?”

“Yes,” answers Simon.

Walsh sighs contentedly. "It'll be just like the old days."

Simon grinds his teeth, swallowing back every nasty thing he wants to say. He clicks on the gun and the familiar buzz fills the air. Dipping the point into the ink, Simon brings it to Walsh's skin. Just before it makes contact, Simon pauses, some of that rising rage returning.

Part of him wants to jam the thing into Walsh’s eye, but Simon has to think of you.

Of your safety.

Simon takes a deep breath, and draws from memory, picturing your face. It comes in pieces. Fractures. There are blank details. He's already forgetting what you look like—and that in and of itself is a crime.

Clenching his jaw, Simon makes contact. A vein in Walsh's neck pulses but he makes no comment about the sting. Depending on the burn scars, tattooing can be difficult but possible. Sometimes they don’t absorb the ink well and multiple sessions are needed. But it’s not like Walsh is ever coming back after day.

After a few minutes of silence, Simon takes the bait. "You came here to talk." He dips the tip back in the ink. "So fucking talk."

Walsh snorts. "Why jump all in? We have hours."

“I’m not one for small talk,” mutters Simon.

“No,” muses Walsh. “You never were.” Walsh turns his head in Simon’s direction. “That’s what I liked about you. Always to the point. Blunt. No one else spoke to me the way you did."

"And why do you think that is?" counters Simon.

Walsh grins. “We're the same. You and I. It's why we got along so well."

We are gardens now. The two of us.

"You're delusional.”

"No,” says Walsh with utter confidence. “I know you. Always have."

Simon’s jaw aches from clenching it. He retrieves more ink, and this time, uses more force than necessary. The rage is building again, becoming thick and potent like molasses.

"We're not the same,” growls Simon.

He’s changing. Fracturing. Shifting.

Walsh laughs, and rubs at his chin with his other hand. "We both care about our country."

"You don't care about anyone but yourself!" Simon turns off the tattoo gun and places it on the cart. "We're fucking done. Get out."

"We're only talking,” says Walsh casually.

His words are fucking sour to Simon. Dead.

Simon leans in. "That's what you always say." The rage becomes cold. Icy. “The first time we met, you had no idea that we had crossed paths before.”

Walsh’s charm fades slightly.

Simon forges ahead, not giving him a chance to speak. “You don’t remember. But I do. I remember every little detail about that night.”

Crossing his arms, Simon rests them on the edge of the tattooing chair, never taking his gaze off the man he’s been hunting for years.

“I tracked you to a little pub in Manchester. For surveillance. You rented out the room upstairs. Stood up on a makeshift stage and addressed a room full of men.” Simon licks his lips, the fabric of the balaclava scratching his tongue. “I knew you were shit then, but I didn’t know just how fucking awful you were until you opened your mouth.”

Walsh’s shell is cracking. Piece by piece.

“You had the biggest smile on your face. Proud of the words coming out of your mouth.” Simon leans in even closer, lowering his voice until it drips with disdain. “The shit you said that night. That red pill bullshit about women. About the queer community. About anyone who didn't fit your idea of superiority.”

That coldness solidifies. Becomes steel.

“I saw how those weak, pathetic men ate up every word. And I’ll wager you don’t remember any of their names. Faces, maybe. But not names.”

“What’s your bloody point?” growls Walsh, all that cheerfulness now gone.

“I remember them,” says Simon. “I remember because your words fueled them. Sent them out into the world only craving violence. They stabbed. Drove cars into crowds.” Simon leans back, but keeps his hands on the chair. “And then you fucked off to America. Said the same shit there because their gun laws are looser.”

“Simon—”

“And you had a fucking blast there, didn’t you?”

“Simon,” warns Walsh.

“A fucking blast!” Simon slams his hand against the leather and Walsh flinches. Fucking flinches. It’s all the fuel Simon needs.

“You feed them your bullshit.  You shat out your manifesto and they worshipped you like God. And then they picked up their guns and walked into shopping malls, and churches, and schools. Fucking schools, Kit.”

The rage is boiling. Every part of Simon is on fire. Screaming.

“And while those same wankers quoted you while in custody, you were across the other side of the world trading drugs for guns. Helping fuel civil wars and moving warheads because you sweettalked some politicians too drenched in cash to care about the consequences.”

A laugh catches in Simon’s throat.

“You’re a terror,” whispers Simon. “The worst kind because you don’t even fucking believe any of it. Do you?”

Walsh is no longer smiling, and for a brief flicker, Simon thinks Walsh might set off those explosives. But no���Walsh likes the long game. If he wants to talk, Simon will fucking talk.

Simon chuckles, and it almost sounds manic. “I was ready to follow you home that night. To crawl in through your window and fucking suffocate you.” He sighs heavily. “I should have. Instead of listening to my orders.”

“How romantic,” sneers Walsh.

“And then after all that chatter in that pub—”

“The pub, Simon? Really? You were just taking the piss about the schools. Now you want to go off about the pub? Tell me how you really feel?”

“We’re only talking,” says Simon, repeating Walsh’s words right back at him.

Walsh shakes his head. “I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“No. You didn’t,” agrees Simon. “But you were the scope. You showed those weak men where to point.”

Walsh’s face is bright red. Simon’s only seen him like this once before. The rain fell that night but a fire raged.

“After your grandstanding you went downstairs with the rest of your lads. You never noticed me. But I noticed you, Walsh. Saw you corner a woman. Saw the fear in her eyes as you didn’t take no for an answer. And when she left and a few of your new friends followed her, I made sure she was the only one who got home safe.”

"Did you kill them?"

"I did,” affirms Simon. “And I enjoyed it."

Walsh sneers. "You're just like me. You follow your impulses.”

"You're pathetic, Kit. A shit stain." Simon gestures at Walsh's arm. "And this is all you're getting from me. Now, get out."

"I could take us out right now.”

"Please. You’d do the world a fucking favor.”

"Finish the tattoo, Riley."

"Choke on my dick, Kit."

Simon shoves away from the tattooing chair, intended to put some distance between them. But just as the wheels on Simon’s stool begin to move, Walsh reaches out, snagging Simon’s forearm in a vice grip. The reflex comes immediately.

The back of Simon’s hand across Walsh’s face is a deafening crack. Walsh’s head snaps to the side. Dark red bursts outward in an arc.

They both hang in the silence. Simon, with his arms still slightly outstretched. Walsh, hanging limply to the side, bloody drool dripping off his face.

This is it. Simon fucked up. Either it’s your body in pieces or this entire street is flattened.

Slowly, Walsh pushes his hair of his eyes, revealing his red-drenched face. His tongue runs over his teeth, and spits. A glob of blood hits the floor followed by a tooth.

Walsh sits up, grinning. Dark red against off-white.

“There he is,” laughs Walsh. “There’s the Simon I know.” He doesn’t wipe away the blood. “And don’t apologize. Knew the blow was coming.” Seemingly unfazed, Walsh hops off the tattooing chair, strolling over to the sofa. Picking up his coat, Walsh shrugs it on. “Thanks for the shit tattoo, Riley.”

Walsh lightly tugs on the coat, smoothing the fabric.

Just like any other customer, Walsh is leaving. Services rendered.

“Oh! Almost forgot.” Walsh turns on his heel. “Keep an eye on the post.” He takes a step back and places his hand on the door. Pushing it open, Walsh pauses just before he’s swallowed up by the chill of early March.

“I’m inviting you to dinner.”

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[coffee-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

➤ first part

➤ here to see the other option

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[chuuyasheaven]

HIYAAA this is my first time sending a request hope I did it right lol

Sub!Chuuya has been causing me absolute brain rot lately sooo...,,, I was thinking sub!chuuya who just came home from a looonngg mission and needs some good ole stress relief with dom!afab!reader with prompt 3 and 7 :3c

♡ Nobody does it like you ♡ (Chuuya Nakahara)

3. "Make me feel good, nobody does it like you." 7. "I'm too sensitive, slow down– ah!"

Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, sub! Chuuya, pet names ("baby" for Reader, "sweetheart" for both), praising, hand job, blow job, slight teasing, some overstimulation? (for Chuuya), porn without plot?, might contain grammar errors, rushed?, etc.

Notes. This is the realest thing ever.. Enjoy!!

Chuuya looked stressed when he came back home, he wasn't complaining, sure, but you could see he wasn't particularly happy. "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?", you asked him to see if your suspicions were true. "Yeah, I'm fine, just had a shitty day at work.", you stood up and walked towards him. "I'm sorry, do you want anything, Chuuya?", he took off his shoes and coat. "You, if it's okay.", you giggled quietly before responding back. "No, it's okay. What exactly do you want me to do?", Chuuya got closer to you now. "I don't care, make me feel good, nobody does it like you.", hearing what you needed to hear, you kissed him and he swiftly carried you to the bedroom.

When you arrived, he let you down again and took off his vest and harness for easier access. "What do you need me to do, baby?", Chuuya sat down onto the bed while waiting for your next move. "Just. . relax for me. Let me do the work, alright, sweetheart?", your sweet tone was probably the reason he got a little excited. "Okay,", he just replied, you walked to him and sat down on his lap. You started kissing him again, he kissed back and leaned into the kiss. Now making out, you let your finger run down his still clothed chest. As you separated from each other, you kisses wandered lower. From his face to his neck, unbuttoning a few buttons from his shirt for more access to his collarbone.

You backed up from his chest a little to unbuckle his belt, then you unzipped his pants and removed his boxers to finally hold his dick in your hand. Slowly, you started to rub it lightly, if Chuuya wasn't hard yet, he definitely was now. Your thumb ran quickly over his tip, giving him slight goosebumps. Chuuya started to breath heavily, the pleasure of you jerking him off taking over him slowly. He got close rather faster than normal, but can you blame him? Something about you and him in these positions turned him on. "Does this feel good, sweetheart?", you asked, toning the 'sweetheart' rather seductively. Chuuya nodded, you smiled at this and kept on going until he came in your hand.

You let him calm down from his first orgasm before kneeling down before him. Again rubbing it a little before taking his tip into your mouth, teasing it a little by kitten licking it. As if this wasn't enough, you then took most of his length in your mouth, he let out a surprised moan at this which amused you. "K–keep going, just like that, sweetheart. .", Chuuya's hands finding their way to your hair to lightly grab it. You started to suck harder and faster, trying to make him cum faster for your next move. Your hand made it's way to the inches left which didn't fit past your lips and started stroking it. This definitely brought him over the edge, as Chuuya's hips twitched he came inside your mouth while moaning your name quietly.

Letting him take a deep breath before continuing, you got up and sat on his lap again. When he finally had his breath in tact again, you asked if he's willing to continue. "Do you want to continue, Chuuya?", he nodded first, finding words to answer with. ". . You didn't get to cum yet, so yeah. Continue, baby.", he was right, you didn't cum yet and were already wet. With Chuuya's consent, you pushed your panties to the side to let his cock in. You teased him a little by rubbing his tip against your folds first, just for fun, now you let it rest inside you to adjust. As soon as it was inside your cunt, it twitched. Chuuya wasn't to blame for this, he was just slightly sensitive at this point. Adjusted to his dick, you started you move, Chuuya could've literally cum right and there.

You found a steady rhythm and stuck to it, bouncing on him so perfectly trying to go slow for Chuuya's sake. You already could feel your first release nearing, as desperation and pleasure got the better of you, you mindlessly got faster to chase it. With the sudden change of rhythm Chuuya got quite vocal, low moans and grunts coming from him now. "F–fuck, sweetheart. . I'm too sensitive, slow down— ah!", his plea fell on deaf ears, you didn't mean to but this felt too good to slow down now. It didn't take long until the both of you came at the same time, trying to recover from your high. Before anything else could be done, you suddenly were flipped on your back with Chuuya now between your legs.

"Thank you, sweetheart. . But now it's my turn to make you feel good. Just keep on being good for me, alright?"

[oddballwriter]

Appetite

Summary: You have a very high and demanding libido and the boys both are willing to and victim of needing to satisfy it.

Warnings: The reader's gender, exact anatomy, and pronouns are never mentioned but they are a power bottom and or are the ones getting penetrated but are very much in control of the situation. Sub!moon boys and dom!reader if you squint. Groping. Ass slapping (Marc's ass). Overstimulation. Riding. Implied creampies/ not pulling out (wrap it before you tap and or get it). Reader giving oral. Edging.  

Author’s Snip: I'm on my freak shit tonight. Never let me listen to S.H.O. by Baby Tate and Sexy Naughty Bitchy by Tata Young while ovulating or else fictional grown men are getting fucked. Submissive bitches, this one is unfortunately not for you.

Notes: I wrote Jake's part three different times and had to write it after getting off my flow so if it sucks (lol) I'm sorry. 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 1,328

The boys love you and everything about you. But one thing that they weren't expecting to come along with you, was your libido. Not that there was anything wrong with you having a huge one. After all, no one who partakes in sex ever complains about it. The problem was what that entails for them and maintaining it.

-

"Baby, please," Marc says under his breath while he feels you hold him from behind and kiss his neck as he washes the dishes from the two of you having finished dinner. Marc wasn't dumb, he knew you were eyeing him up after you came back from work and he had dinner ready for you, and he knows that you know that holding and kissing him like this riles him up.

"What? I'm not doing anything right now," you say as you give the gap between his neck and collarbone another sensual kiss. "Maybe after you're done washing the dishes we can do something if you want." you suggest, teasingly wording it like he's the one who had the dirty idea.

"I would be getting it done faster if you weren't feeling up my waist like that." Marc claps back, making it clear that he can see and feel your hands moving around. "I could be making it worse." you tease as your hands lower a bit and nip at his skin.

Marc stills for a second, trying to keep back a labored breath that would give away that your little touches are getting to him. Well, it's not that good because he knows that if your hands got any lower then you'd feel his hard-on against the fabric of his pants. "Why don't you just take care of it yourself?" Marc suggests, "We were at it last night. Wasn't that good?" Marc mentions.

"But what if I want a second round of last night?" you question as you squeeze him a little tighter. Marc feels cornered, but in a sexy way that really shouldn't be getting him this much. He felt like a fly that was watching itself be rolled up into the spider's silk, or even a mouse getting coiled by a snake. He knew that he had nowhere to run but also didn't hate it either.

"You had plenty of rounds last night-" Marc tries to bring up but the tail end of his sentence is drawn out a bit as he feels your hand travel down his stomach towards the belt of his pants and your pinky finger break through the waistband. He feels his blood rush downwards and also upwards, making his cheeks out in a blush over letting himself slip up. He can sense your smile and doesn't say anything when you reply with "You were saying?" in a smug and snarky tone.

"Just let me finish the fucking dishes first. Please." Marc pleads. "Go to the bedroom or something. I'll wash my hands and be there. Just let me do the damn dishes." Marc says to add to his plea so that you'll stop with the teasing.

Marc almost breathes a sigh of relief when you unsnake your arms form around his body, but you leave with a "I'll be waiting." paired with an extra nip and kiss at his neck and slap on his ass.

-

Hearing the boys moan and overall vocalize their pleasure during sex was something that you loved to hear. But Steven was one of your favorites.

His whines and moans as he came blocked out the sound of the documentary film that you were watching on TV. It was a rerun of something that both you and Steven have watched a few times. So in your mind, you didn't need to hear what they were saying.

Steven let out shakey breaths as he recovered from his high, his third one, to be exact, with you doing the same. He made an attempt to pull away and pull out of you but your grip on his shoulder stopped him from going completely out, making Steven whine.

"Again." you demand as you even out your breath. "But we've already gone three times, love." Steven begs. "Come on. One more time, to make it even." you insist. You sit up just a little from your position on the couch so that you can place your mouth next to his ear and kiss it, knowing full well that that's his own weak spot, and using your free hand to teasingly stroke his stiff cock that's outside of you so that it stays hard.

Steven moans at the touch and feeling on his ear. He knows that you're telling him a lie and that you'll make him keep going till he's nearly passed out, but most of his blood is somewhere else rather than in his brain to help him think clearly. And even then the thoughts that he's having with his other think of head is winning the popular vote.

He's too busy trying to think through his clouded mind that you try to help him out in making the decision for him by pulling him closer to you, making him slowly go back inside of you. Steven shutters and lets out even more small quiet moans as he feels your walls glide along him again. His poor thing is aching from use but he can't seem to get himself to stop wanting to keep going.

Steven makes an attempt to go round four but he can't seem to do it,. So you, again, take the initiative and push him back so that he's now the one lying on the couch and then startle him. Steven gives you a look that shows that he knows you really aren't going to let up any time soon.

-

"Shit~" Jake moans out as you give him head in the backseat of his car.

In the small space, Jake and you can only hear the sound of you bobbing your head and the battered breaths and moans coming from Jake, which is a thing that weirdly gets Jake off more when you two get down in the car.

"Slow down, god." Jake pleads, feeling himself start to come the longer he lets you go on. You look up at him and pop your mouth off but keep him going with your hand stroking him at the same pace. "What's the matter? I thought we were in a spot where no one would see us?" you mention while you glance up at him from your place on the floor of the car.

"We are," Jake repeats as he focuses on not coming just yet, "But if you keep doing it like that I'm gonna...~" he can't finish his own sentence and even think about the last word, or else he will actually lose it. He looked and felt like he was trying to hold in a sneeze.

"I thought you liked it when I made you come fast." you question as you lick the precum from his tip that was leaking out. Jake shivers from the feeling but recollects himself. "I do." he confirms, "You just used me up too much last night and I don't think I've made it back yet." he explains.

"Well then I guess I'll just make you come once." you say before you go back to sucking him off, but this time with a pace that doesn't send him over the edge just yet.

After a while, he starts reaching it again and is more willing to have it happen. Jake starts talking under his breath saying "That's it. Just like that.". Just as he starts reaching his limit and about to get to a point where he can let it all out, you pop your mouth off his cock again. He looks down at you in shock that you suddenly stopped.

"Well, I don't want you to come yet." you smile as you watch Jake lose it and start up again.

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt.3.5

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader ; f1 grid x reader (platonic)

summary : you call for help, and max is the first person that comes to your mind. and to say that max is baffled is an understatement.

warning : unedited, harsh words, maybe ooc driver?, and bad grammars.

a/n : i am girl-bossing through exam today, and i decided to write this as a reward. i also listen to asmr roleplay by gibi asmr and moonlight cottage asmr while writing this and its good KSJNSKDJNAKD SORRY-

masterlist

max was in the middle of doing his daily exercise when his phone suddenly rang. he press the slow down button on his treadmill as he simply answer the call from his earbud.

"good morning to you, ice princess." he happily answer, still walking on his treadmill.

"max, I think I made a big mistake."

hearing your soft whimper he stop the machine.

"y/n, what's wrong?"

"i kiss daniel."

"what?!"

"i kiss him, max. we kissed."

max had to hold himself as he listen to you, leaning his body on the railing of his treadmill. his lips are sealed in thin line, trying to think of a reaction.

he is conflicted about this; in one hand he want to cheer on daniel for finally man up and make a move. on the other hand, you sounds so scared and he understand that this whole territory is foreign to you. so he just keep his mouth sealed.

"max, say something!"

"i–uhh–i don't know, y/n. it was just a kiss right? is it a bad thing?" he answer.

max decided that he is done with workout, so he got off from the treadmill taking his phone with him as he grab a towel. he glance at the clock on the wall. its 5:34 and he wonder why you already wake up this early.

"wait, where are you right now and why you up this early y/n?"

"i'm.. i dunno where i am right now. i was heading back to szeged from budapest but i just stop, i'm not even in highway right now. i dunno where i am, and i need a breather."

"god, okay calm down. are you alone?"

"yes."

"shit, y/n. send me your location so i can check on you. and also, how did you end up in budapest? what happen?"

and after 45 minutes of you rambling in your car, on the side of the road, in the middle of god knows where, you finish your story.

"- and that is how i end up in this shit. just lost me ol' cobber for doing something stupid." you said, a little aussie side of you were showing.

*cobber = a very good friend

max just open his mouth in disbelief or in silence? either way he don't know what to do. yes what you and daniel did are stupid, but from his perspective this is a long-awaited miracle. finally daniel grew a pear and you being smart. but damn, that was something. and he is drunk, so it doesn't count, i guess.

"that's it max, i'm gonna fly my ass back to straya before daniel catch me in my house. i'm running away, maybe move to-i dunno-alaska?" you said.

*straya = australia

"what? y/n, don't do that! you guys had just reconcile, now you want to run away?" max answered as he walk back to his room, straight to his computer as he turn on his simulator.

"well so much for reconciliation! i fucked up!"

he open discord from his phone and quickly type 'sos' to the discord server that he had made few months ago, back when the party-planning were made. lando had call themself 'project y/niel' and there are few drivers there that willing to help daniel and you; lewis, lando, charles, carlos (surprisingly), george, and lastly alex.

"maxie, wil je dat ik met dit ga doen?" maxie, what should i do with this?

"y/n, je zult toch tot kalmte moeten komen, en de enige manier omdat te doen is door te ademen. okay?" y/n, you have to calm down and the only way you're going to do that is to breathe. okay?

"okay."

"alright here's what i want you to do, you're gonna go back to your place and sleep. its almost 7 now, like it or not you will have to sleep. i'll deal with daniel so you don't have to worry." he command you, biting his lower lips as he wait for any reaction on the discord server.

"alright then, i'm gonna drive home first. talk to you later max."

"take care y/n. don't do anything stupid."

"will do maxie."

max today at 06:32 SOS. lewis ham today at 06:32 sos? what happen max? max today at 06:33 y/niel situation. @.landonorris i need you to tell us what the fuck is going on mate, y/n is freaking out. i already heard her side so i need your side of story now. charles_leclerc today at 06:35 mate, its not even 7 a.m, what did lando do? carlitos today at 06:35 plz respon @.max, charles is banging my door. alex albon today at 06:37 if its about daniel being wasted and y/n is with daniel rn, me and george doesn't know abt this. george russell today at 06:37 so true, bestie. carlitos today at 06:38 plz spill the tea @.landonorris, charles is freaking out in my room rn. max today at 06:41 guys, calm down. i just end the call with y/n they apparently kissed each other nothing more, so far. george russell today at 06:42 HELLO?!?! @.landonorris YOU DIDN'T TOLD ME AND ALEX ABOUT THIS PART? carlitos today at 06:42 charles is in shock rn, he just sat down like a statue please just share the whole story @.max @.landonorris lewis ham today at 06:43 oh my god... alex albon today at 06:43 that's it, i'm coming to you @.landonorris landonorris today at 07:01 GUYS I JUST WOKE UP JESUS WHAT and also you don't want to come to me, daniel is basically few rooms apart from me. AND THEY KISSED? MY TACTIC IS WORKING? george russell today at 07:02 mate, y/n is freaking out. your tactic backfired. kudos for trying tho charles_leclerc today at 07:03 lando count your days. landonorris today at 07:03 WHAT WHAT DID I DO? lewis ham today at 07:04 i am too old for this, i'm still stuck at y/n and daniel kissed. landonorris today at 07:04 GUYS DANIEL IS KNOCKING ON MY DOOR WHAT SHOULD I DO? max today at 07:04 let him in, he probably want to ask you about y/n landonorris today at 07:05 idk where she is tho' you're the one who knows max. max today at 07:05 exactly lando why is daniel calling me? lando? you piece of shit.

max let out a heavy sigh as he watch his phone lit up with daniel's name. he brace his body on the counter top as he answer the call. he will have to give lando an earful later.

"hello danny."

"max, i know you know where y/n is. please let me know where she is–or just tell her to answer her phone!"

"daniel, calm down."

max massaging his throbbing temple as he walk to the fridge, taking a bottle of water before opening it.

"max i kiss her! i–she–i can't help it! and now she's freaking out i–"

"mate you're also freaking out, just calm down."

"god i am such a loser..."

he took a chug of the water, emptying the bottle in no time. he chuck the bottle on to the trash bin before reacting to the sad daniel.

"yeah, you are. but it already happen, so you need to calm down."

"what should i do?"

"i'll talk to her dan, don't worry. for now, she need a space okay? and you need to go home. or sleep. either way i need you to, once again, calm down."

"all things aside, i am not regretting this. now that i know what i've been missing, i need her okay? she–god she is going to be the death of me max."

"god, you are such a loser. i'm ending the call."

before daniel even react to that, max already ending the call–shaking his head as he let out a tired sigh. he walk towards his patio as he scrolling through his contact before making another call.

"hello? anna? yes, this is max verstappen. i got your number from y/n. hey listen, i need your help with something."

prev || next

[littleseasiren]

Wait you love me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of language, then fluff

Words: Just over 900 words

A/N: Welcome to day 3 of Flufftober. Prompt: "Wait you love me?" "I always have". Thanks @flufftober for this interesting challenge. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list. Thanks for reading!

The drive home from the restaurant was quiet - too quiet. You had a magical night with Bucky, having fun watching a movie and then a lovely dinner at a sophisticated restaurant that Bucky had chosen. He knew you didn't need anything fancy, but he still went out of his way to spoil you often. The evening was going perfectly until it wasn't anymore.

Your dessert had just been placed in front of you when it started. You were having a slice of cheesecake while Bucky chose a chocolate lava cake when it happened. Bucky was giving you a bite of his dessert when a group of young men walked in and took the table next to you. When they saw Bucky's metal arm, they started whispering between themselves. It had taken you and the others months to get Bucky comfortable without wearing gloves, only for this one moment to ruin all his hard work accepting his metal arm.

At first, Bucky pretended he couldn't hear their whispers, but as their voices grew louder, even you could hear them commenting on Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier. You wanted to kick their ass, but Bucky begged you to ignore them. He didn't want to make a scene and asked you not to either. The two of you quickly finished your desserts, Bucky paid, and now you were stuck in a car so thick with silence, that you felt like you might choke on it.

"Bucky, those guys don't have any idea what they're talking about, don't let it go to your head. You're not him anymore."

"Hmm," Bucky mumbles, eyes focusing on the road ahead. His hands grip the steering wheel so tight that you're afraid he'll snap it right off.

Not knowing what to do, you try to give him space to calm down.

"Bucky, talk to me," you ask as you help him take off his suit jacket.

The two of you are back in your shared room, alone at last. Sometimes it's difficult staying in the tower with the other Avengers, everyone wanted to know how your date went, what you did, things like that. They genuinely wanted to know if you had fun, but you just wanted to get your boyfriend alone.

"There's nothing to talk about, doll. Everything is fine," Bucky says softly as he turns and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He's turned away from you, but you can still hear the hurt in his voice.

"Everything's not fine. I know you, Bucky. I don't want to push you -"

"Then don't! I told you, I'm fine!" Bucky barks out, his brows lowered and lip set in a harsh line as he throws his shirt on the chair. He sits down on the side of the bed and starts removing his shoes.

"The hell you are! I don't know what they said but I know you heard it and that it's going to your head, making you question everything." You stand in front of him, still wearing all your clothes, not willing to back down from this.

Bucky's anger disappears almost instantly. "Exactly, you have no idea what they said." He lowers his head as he takes a deep breath. When his eyes meet yours, they are cold and full of determination.

"This is just becoming a bit much, I thought I was ready for a relationship but I guess not." When your brows narrow in confusion, he looks away instantly.

"This is becoming too much? You mean me?" You feel like your heart is breaking, as moisture gathers on the corners of your eyes.

"I mean this relationship." When he won't look at you, you feel the first tear drop down your cheek. Things had been going great between you two. How could he say that to you now? No, you won't accept this.

"Bullshit!" You lunge for him, hitting him on the chest when he stands up to stop you. "You don't get to decide that! I don't care what those men said, I'm not letting you leave me!"

Bucky grabs your arms, holding them still so you'll stop pounding on his chest. "I care! I'm not good enough for you, you should find someone else to be with. Someone better!"

"There's no one better for me Bucky! Why are you saying this?" Your tears are running freely now, his words hurting more than you can take.

"Because I love you! You deserve the world, not some assassin with seventy years of blood on his hands!"

You still in his arms, his words sinking in slowly. "Wait, you love me?" You meet his tired gaze, daring him to take back his words.

"I always have." He says it so simply, like it's the one truth he is sure of in his life.

"Bucky, I love you too. I don't want to be with anyone else. You are the man I love, this Bucky. I don't care what happened in the past, I just want to be part of your future." When he lets go of your arms, you gently cup his cheek, sighing with relief when he rubs against your hand.

"Say it again? Please?" His arm wraps around your middle, pulling you closer to his strong body.

You gaze deep into his blue eyes, letting him see the truth in your eyes. "I love you, Bucky. And you love me. I'm not going to let anything keep us apart."

"I love you so much, doll. I never meant to hurt you, I'm so sorry," he says as he pulls you onto the bed next to him. You lay beside him, willing to take anything the world throws at you, as long as he keeps loving you.

@morganmofresh

@dottirose

@cjand10

@buggy14

@crazyunsexycool

@tripleoyaa

@mandijo17

@fluffysucker

@moviegurl2002

[littlemissaddict]

No point or plot to this, it's just a silly little idea that my brain would not let me let go of. Shy!Reader falls asleep on the couch and her shirt rides up exposing her ass and Eddie makes sure to cover her up before company arrives.

Word Count: 1148

Eddie let himself into their shared apartment, closely followed by Steve, or he was until he spotted her lying on the couch. It seemed she had fallen asleep in front of the tv watching a long since finished video if the static screen was anything to go by.

"Hey, wait here a second, okay" Eddie spoke, sticking his left arm backwards and stopping Steve in his tracks. Steve gave him a confused look but complied with Eddie's request instead watching him venture further into the apartment albeit a little more quietly this time.

He crossed the room in a few long strides over to her now seeing fully what he'd only glimpsed from the doorway. Her oversized shirt had ridden up her back while she'd slept, leaving her ass exposed to the room as god knows the tiny panties she had on did little to cover her. It was also the reason he'd stopped Steve before he'd crossed the threshold knowing how embarrassed she'd be if she knew anyone other than Eddie had seen her like that because even though he'd managed to get her to admit that nudity wasn't as bad as she'd been made to believe, she still had a hard time with anyone seeing her bare including Eddie occasionally. Reaching for the blanket she always kept over the arm of the couch, mainly because she always seemed to be cold, he laid it over her body to cover her and her modesty before Steve's voice pulled him back to the present.

"Hey man everything good"

"Yeah, yeah you can come in now" he encouraged, crouching beside her and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, smiling when she sighed softly in her sleep. After he straightened back up, he turned to find a bemused looking Steve who looked as if he was going to tease Eddie. "Don't even think about it, I'm just being a good boyfriend and making sure shits not on display that's for my eyes only" he scolds ushering Steve out of the main room and into the spare bedroom that was used instead as their own mini library/recording studio/games room and general storage room for all their belongs that didn't fit anywhere else in the apartment. It wasn’t ideal but it meant that they wouldn't wake the sleeping girl on the couch because Eddie thought she'd been overworking herself lately and was glad she was getting some rest which she clearly needed.

When she awoke, she could hear the muffled voices from elsewhere in the apartment and when she tried to move she felt her legs tangled in fabric. Body still heavy with sleep she reached down clumsily to find the blanket dropped over her lower body. Funny, she thought, she didn't remember pulling that over her and then she realised the tv was now off but that was definitely on, she vividly remembers that Ferris Bueller's Day Off was playing on the now black screen, which means only one thing - Eddie was home.

She mumbles his name as she fumbles with the blanket, finally freeing herself from it and she stands, feeling the shirt fall to her mid thighs as it now registers to her that the muffled voices she can hear belong to Eddie and Steve. Padding her way across the room to the closed door where the voices are coming from, she screws her eyes shut as the brightness of the overhead light hits her eyes especially as it's much brighter than the lamp light in the room she's come from. She says his name again as she rubs her eyes, willing them to adjust to the light quicker than they are.

The voices stop as both boys turn to look at her in the doorway and Eddie smiles, opening his arms towards her as he speaks, "there she is, my sleeping beauty" she lets him wrap her up in a hug as he pulls her into his lap and her head drops to rest on his shoulder.

"How long was I out" she asks, voice quiet and still groggy from sleep.

"Well we've been here, what an hour or so?" He asks, double checking with Steve who confirms Eddie's statement, "and you were flat out then so a while I'd say" he finishes and she nods against his neck as she feels his warm hands pulling the shirt down her thighs, covering the skin where it had ridden up once again, this time from when she'd sat down.

"And you covered me up?" She asked, even though she knew the answer was more than likely going to be a yes and while she was expecting the answer to be from him, Steve answered for him.

"He sure did, had me wait in the hall until he was sure you were decent" Steve nodded, even though she couldn't see it from where her face was still buried in Eddie's neck as she still hadn't adjusted to the brightness of the lights fully.

"Thank you" she mumbled, voice muffled and Eddie felt her words more than heard but he understood anyway.

"Anything for you princess" he reassured, his voice soft as it always was for her as he brought a hand up to brush through her hair, sharing a moment together almost as if they'd forgotten Steve was there. "We didn't wake you did we?" He asked, worried for a second that they had disturbed her much needed sleep.

"Nope, m'hungry is all" she replied with a shake of her head and then as if on cue her stomach rumbled.

"Yeah it seems it, how does pizza sound?" He laughed and she nodded her head eagerly. "Steve?" Eddie inquired, confirming that he hadn't forgotten about him but as he looked over at the other boy he found him glancing at his watch.

"It's getting late, I should be heading out" he said with a shake of his head as he looked up from the watch, "another time though" he added and Eddie nodded in understanding.

"You sure, you can stay" she spoke, a pout on her lips as she finally lifted her head out from the crook of Eddie's neck now that she was a little more accustomed to the light. Steve only nodded in response, a small reassuring smile on his face.

Her focus was pulled away from Steve when Eddie's hands tapped against her thighs, "come on then sweet thing, let's see Steve out and then we'll order pizza" he encouraged, waiting for her to stand before the two boys followed, saying their goodnights before he left which left the two of them alone.

"You want your usual" Eddie laughed as her stomach growled again and she nodded, settling herself on the couch again with the blanket while she waited as Eddie placed their order, hoping that she didn't fall asleep again before it arrived.

[simping-lya]

There is always time for cuddles.

UT!Sans x Sick!Reader

Words: 694

Written while I'm sick and should be asleep. Sorry for errors, I don't have the energy to check for mistakes.

~~~~~~

It was inevitable, you knew, but it still felt weird. The social norms smacked into you since a young age always told you to never let anyone near you while sick, or vice versa. So, when Sans asked to join you in your bed, your answer was a clear “no.” Then he tried to convince you by explaining that monsters can’t catch human colds because monsters are mostly made of magic instead of physical matter. You still said no, because even though you knew it was true, the social norms engraved into you still made it feel weird. Then he told you he bet that you’d feel better after cuddles and you couldn’t deny that… It had been a while since you two had any intimate contact because of your sickness and you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss it.

(Plus, you knew he’d find a loophole in your argument sooner or later and join you in your bed. Might as well say yes than argue with the short skele and tire yourself out.)

So, here you were, laying in your bed in the guest room of the skelebros, waiting for Sans to return with a fresh cup of water for you. You already shifted the pillows and sheets to make room for your skeleton and were currently staring at the ceiling (again…)

After making countless shapes in the pattern of the ceiling, you heard the sound of the doorknob turning and Sans walked in, holding a large cup of water in his hand. Shutting the door behind him, he made his way towards your bed and handed you the cup.

“Thanks,” You croaked out, your throat squeezing as you spoke. An annoying tickle formed from the back of your throat and you quickly took a sip of the water, the warm liquid calming down your upcoming coughing fit.

“you know our deal,” Sans said, shrugging with his usual grin.

You frowned at him, still bothered. “I’m going to cough on you…” Your voice was soft to not bring you into a coughing fit. “And I haven’t showered in three days.”

“it’s fine. no need to worry about spreading your disease to me, and i’m in no place to judge how long ya haven’t showered.”

You knew that was true. Sans wouldn’t judge you for your hygiene, or anything else. You knew it was just you making excuses.

Sighing, you accepted defeat and Sans’s grin widened. You set the cup somewhere in arms reach and Sans climbed into the bed with you. His slippers dropped to the ground and as he shifted underneath the blankets, his feet tickled your legs, making you flinch and shift away.

Never the one to miss details, no matter how small, Sans chuckled and looked at you.

“no cuddles?”

You rolled your eyes and in a swift motion, pulled him into your arms and flopped onto the bed. Sans’s chuckles turned into soft laughter, muffled against your chest as his arms wrapped around your torso. You could feel his phalanges grab onto the back of your shirt as he snuggled into you.

Back into your usual cuddling habits, one of your hands absentmindedly rubbed the back of Sans’s head where his skull and neck joined together, and the other was pressed against his back, keeping him close to you. Despite the hoodie he was wearing, you could feel the bumps of his spine which you also traced.

Sans made a soft, satisfied noise and snuffled closer to you. Seems like you weren’t the only one who missed cuddles. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“thought you were worried about spreading your disease?” Sans said from your chest. Despite his voice being muffled, you could hear his smugness.

Ugh, you didn’t want to leave him all smug, knowing he won against your game of wills. Well, you know how to easily shut him up and you weren’t worried about getting him sick now.

You grabbed his cheeks, lowered your head, and covered his face in kisses. By the time you were satisfied, he was covered in his pretty blue blush.

[dxvxx]

Well, Fuck.. Pt.2

"This is not happening." I whisper as I lean back against the wall, spreading my thighs more, my eyes rolling up as the baby drops lower.

"Mmhm... You hear me, baby? You clung in there for an extra week, you can wait a few more hours." I scold my bump softly, my hands still rubbing the sides.

I can physically feel him slowly dropping lower, and what should feel uncomfortable weirdly feels good.

Too good, all things considered.

I wait it out until he's fully settled, the pressure on my hips and lower belly intensifying tenfold and then take few deep breaths, willing myself not to panic and do something stupid like call William.

It's not like I'm in labor. My water didn't break, it's intact.

I'm fine.

Everything is fine.

And I'm determined to go about my planned day, ignoring the fact that my belly visibly dropped lower, my waddle more pronounced.

~~~

The first sign that should've clued me in that there's no way that's happening should've been when I stopped for gas.

I get out with difficulty, supporting my belly with a hand as I place my credit card and punch in the right kind and amount before grabbing the pump.

As I'm waiting for my car to fill up, I feel my bump tighten painfully, nearly making me double over.

"No, please, no." I whisper breathlessly, my eyes screwed shut tightly.

Once it passes, I straighten up, taking a deep breath.

Maybe this was a one-off.

It has to be.

That's what I repeat to myself a few minutes later when I get another contraction as I'm getting back into my car.

This one does make me double over and I almost knock myself out on the steering wheel.

"Uughh... God, let this be a joke my body's... ooohh... playing on me." I whine softly.

I get a couple more contractions while I'm driving with one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing my hardened belly desperately.

Yeah, this is not a joke. Or drill.

The second and most important sign that I should've listened to was when I waddled my way to one of the on-campus restrooms.

I step into the gender neutral one, not really caring, my mind more laser focused on the feeling of my bladder close to bursting.

I sigh softly once I've relieved myself and to my annoyance, stay on the toilet as I ride out another contraction.

I'm breathing heavily, letting out soft moans. The contraction has been longer than the other. I attempt to stand up and whimper when I feel a gush of water between my thighs.

This time, my moan of frustration is loud, feeling myself close to tears.

This isn't fair. None of this is fucking fair and-

"You okay in there?" Asks a low-pitched voice, knocking on the stall door.

I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to reply, clearing my throat for good measure.

"I-I'm okay, thank-k... Ughh..." The sharpness of the contraction as it peaks cuts me off.

"You don't sound okay. Should I call one of the campus nurses?"

"NO!" I force myself to soften my voice before trying again, "I'm fine, thank you."

I bite back another moan, watching the little stall opening from the bottom as a pair of feet hover for a few seconds as if debating something before they walk away.

Thank fuck.

After that, I managed to make it to the exam hall without anymore alarming hitches.

I take a seat in one of the usual table arm chairs since nothing else is available, in the first row, in case I need to leave early. The table digs into my too big belly, and the seat is too uncomfortable, but I will see this through to the end.

Before I know it, an hour has passed.

An hour full of sweating, my thighs spread discreetly beneath the table, biting my bottom lip hard as my body goes into active labor.

I look up from my exam and to the clock on the wall as I feel yet another contraction rippling through me. I still have almost 2 hours and nowhere near done with the cursed exam.

I think I let out another small sound for the upteenth time, because the girl sitting next to me looks up and gives me a loaded look before she goes back to her exam.

I haven't dared to look at William, although I can feel his eyes burning a whole through the right side of my face.

The only time he's not watching me is when he glares at the two guys in the back row trying to copy off each other.

Before I knew it, another hour had passed, and I'm in a state of pure torture and bliss.

I'm in pain, yes, and all I want to do is spread my legs freely and let my moans free, but I'm also so turned on it's not even funny.

I had read about orgasmic labor, but I never thought I'd experience it personally. And I always thought it'd be a two person job, but nope, this is all me.

I shift in my seat, panting softly, the wooden seat feeling uncomfortably slick as I try to find some relief.

When that doesn't work, I slip my hand discreetly in and slip a finger inside, moaning softly in relief, which catches William's attention.

"Is something the matter, Ms. Hearst?" William's smooth but sharp voice pulls me out of my internal struggle as I snap my head up to him.

"N-no-ooh sir. I'm f-aahh-inee."

"Then stop disrupting your fellow students. If you're done with your exam, present it and leave." His tone has a finality to it, and I know he's pissed off because he can't do anything about the situation I put us in.

He's a little fucker for calling me out though.

I look at the time again, and I think about turning my exam in and leaving but I physically can't get up.

I honestly know that if I do, I'll drop down into a squat and won't get up until my baby is out of me.

And so, I bear it for the next remaining hour.

I clamp my legs, squeezing my fingers for all their worth, trying to hold off.

I can't quite hold back my soft moans even when the girl next to me glares daggers at me and stomps off as soon as time runs out.

William starts collecting the exams, and I don't care how I did or what I wrote as I hand it to him, looking up at him with desperation in my eyes.

He clenches his jaw and continues on, still keeping up the facade, and I stay seated until all the students clear out.

As soon as that happens and the door shuts behind the last student, I push the little table away from my body, spreading my thighs, my hand pushing my lacy underwear and finding my pussy in a second.

"Fuck, Will, he's... ooooofff... cominggg... uggghhh." I moan loudly, everything I've been holding back for the last three hours coming back tenfold.

To his credit, my man doesn't panic as he tries to lift me up.

"It's alright, sweetheart, I'll call your doula once we get to my car and-"

I'm not listening, though, as I shake my head. My legs refuse to cooperate as well, taking on a rhythm of their own as they rock back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the pressure or maybe find some pleasure.

We had arranged a doula for a private birth at the hospital, but without all the nurses and doctors around but the baby is coming NOW.

I tell him as much.

And so, without any more prompt, William runs to both sets of doors and locks each one before he runs to the windows and shuts the blinds.

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (part 12)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Samoa Joe, Gunther, Ludwig Kaiser

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature (18+)

Warnings - Depictions of violence, injury detail

Words - ~3,500 words

Summary - Was it all worth the risk?

Panic!

Terrible, all-consuming panic!

It gripped every piece of Drew and refused to let go. From the moment he heard that voice, he'd lost all feeling in his body, every sense driven right out of him with blinding fear at the arrival of the man who had caged and tortured him relentlessly.

'How very touching,' the General stated, still clapping his hands menacingly. 'The damsel in distress has fallen for his knight in shining armour - how sweet! Cliched, but sweet.'

A sudden movement to his left and Punk was standing between himself and Gunther. Drew's mind screamed at him to grab the cage-fighter and stop him but his limbs refused to move, stuck fast like rusted tin. Unable to do anything but watch Punk straighten his battered body out, chin up and brows furrowed. His feet were planted, cuffed hands raised to shield his face, shoulders slightly stooped and it was then that Drew realised this was Punk's fighting stance.

Despite being bound, beaten and broken, the warrior was still ready for battle. The Scot felt dizzy all of a sudden. This man who had already sacrificed so much for him, who bore bruises and bandages for him, who's tender fingers had been snapped one-by-one for him, and yet, he refused to back down. What little breath he had left in his lungs, he was willing to put on the line for a man he barely knew.

A stabbing pain ached in Drew's chest.

'I hoped you would come back for him,' Gunther's piercing eyes found Drew and he cowered back. There was no hiding from the General - he could see him clearly over the top of Punk's head. His terror took over and he shuffled closer to Punk, curling the tips of his fingers over the waistband of the black briefs and holding on tight. Punk let out a small grunt, as if in pain but did not lower his fists.

'And even if you didn't,' Gunther went on, 'it did not matter. I had a new toy to play with. Isn't that right?' He sneered at Punk who flared his nostrils in reply, fire blazing behind his hazel eyes. 'We've had a lot of fun together, haven't we?'

Punk jerked, about to make a move when a deep voice boomed across the room.

'Hang back, Phil.' Joe appeared at Punk's side, cracking his knuckles. 'I've got this.'

Far from looking threatened, Gunther seemed more perplexed. Tilting his head at the large-set man, he uttered, 'I don't remember inviting you.'

'Get Drew out of here,' Joe ordered his ex.

'Not a chance,' Punk spat back. 'I'm not leaving you, fuck that!'

Joe placed a solid hand on his shoulder. 'For once, don't argue with me. Please?'

Punk hesitated, hopping irritably from foot-to-foot but before he could act, Gunther interrupted the moment.

'Nobody is going anywhere.'

Opening the lapel of his military coat, he unleashed a loaded handgun, pulling back the safety with his thumb. All three men froze, rabbits caught in the headlights of a speeding car. 'At least, not without my saying so' Gunther smiled ruthlessly at his prisoners, aiming the gun directly at Punk. Drew yanked back on his saviour's briefs, trying to pull Punk away, a pitiful attempt to save him from harm but it was useless. Where could they go? What could he do? They were all trapped, cornered deep underground where nobody could hear their screams or the blast of gunfire. Fish in a barrel, waiting for their turn on the chopping block.

'Ludwig?'

The General's lackey appeared behind him, similarly armed. He'd been hidden away, blocking their only exit this whole time. They truly never stood a chance.

'I don't need this one,' Gunther said, pointing at Joe. 'Take him upstairs and... deal with him.' Ludwig gave a sharp nod of his head and advanced towards Joe with his pistol up. The large-set man raised his hands, his face pensive. Calm and cool as he was marched out of the room by the blonde.

Punk on the other hand...

'Hey, wait! What's happening? Where are you taking him?' He lunched forward, tried to grasp Joe's hand before he disappeared from sight but Gunther thrust the gun towards him, forcing him back.

'Don't worry about your friend,' the General sneered, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. 'He won't feel a thing. You should worry more about yourselves.' Punk shoved Drew backwards in order to put some distance between them and their capturer. 'Now, the question is...' Gunther waved the gun between his two prisoners. '...what to do with you both? I'm sure that, with enough persuasion, we could squeeze both of you into that cage. What do you think? You could be together at last?'

The cage-fighter had planted his feet again, fists raised, putting his body on the line to shield Drew. The Scot held tighter onto his waistband, afraid to let go.

'Or should I look at this in a more practical way? Two slaves, two mouths to feed. And with Vinci gone, our numbers are even. No, now that I think about it, two is too many. But the question is; which one do I dispose of? You?' He focused the gun right between Punk's eyes. Before lifting it up to Drew's height. 'Or you...?'

In a flash, Punk was gone, torn free from Drew's grasp. He gaped at the cage-fighter's rippling shoulder blades rushing away, right towards Gunther. His cuffed hands grabbed the larger man's gun hand by the wrist and threw it up to the sky. The gun fired, the whizz and clang of the bullet's ricocheting off the concrete walls screeched in all three men's ears.

'DREW!' The Scot heard Punk's cry and found him tussling with Gunther's arm, fighting to keep it raised up out of harm's way. 'GET OUT OF HERE!' But it was a hopeless battle and before Drew could move a muscle, Gunther wrestled back control. A deafening chop swiped Punk off like an annoying fly. The tattooed man hit the floor hard, landing nastily on his front. He cried out as a boot stamped into his lower back, keeping him down, vaguely aware that he was the target of the handgun's crosshairs again. Closer this time. Dangerously close.

Above him, Gunther snarled at Drew, stuck fast like his feet were embedded in dried concrete. 'Get into your cage. Now!'

'DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, DREW! RUN FOR-' The cold, steel muzzle of the gun pressed into the back of his skull. Punk froze, afraid to even breath, one wrong move away from death.

The horror was mutual. Drew let out a strangled wail of desperation.

'Get in your cage. NOW!'

What could he do but obey? If that's what it would take to save Punk? His vision turned blurry, a film of tears locked tight behind the membrane. He lowered his head, turned and started to shuffle towards the dreaded cage in the corner.

'No... Drew, no...'

'SILENCE!' Gunther rammed his boot into Punk's cheek. A splatter of blood ripped from his splintered lips across the filthy floor. 'You have been fun, little fighter, but you are too much trouble. Why waste my time training you when I already have a good, obedient slave to play with, hmm?' Punk's whole body jerked at a sharp click right beside his ear. The General chuckled viciously; he had only put the safety back on.

'Shooting you is too quick. Too painless. Let's string you back up again and finish what we started yesterday, only this time, your 'lover boy' can watch.' Gunther bent down to grab Punk, Drew turning slightly to spy the huge man ripping the bandages away from Punk's stomach. He nearly threw up when strips of tattered, raw flesh were revealed beneath. Red, wet ribbons where once there had been soft, lightly tanned skin.

And words!

It suddenly dawned on Drew what they had done. He dreaded to think how, but they had scraped away the 'straight edge' tattoo that had arched over his naval.

As soon as Gunther had torn away the last of the bandages he socked Punk right in his flayed abdomen. The cage-fighter crumpled with a cry. The General grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him towards the hook hanging from the ceiling.

'Yes, he can watch,' he said again with a heartless sneer. 'Watch as I strip every last piece of flesh from your bones. Watch his saviour scream and beg, watch him die slowly and painfully right before his-

'NO!'

The room went still.

A look of furious shock twisted Gunther's face as he looked down at his captive.

But Punk had not been the one who'd spoken.

Two pairs of wide, shocked eyes turned to Drew who stood tall in front of his cage. Fists clenched at his side, shoulders heaving. Every inch of him shook but there was a determination in his eyes that would not waver.

Gunther was the one to break the silence. 'Did you just-'

'No!' Drew returned, his voice croaky but firm.

Both Gunther and Punk stared back, stunned with disbelief. 'Drew...' Punk hushed out, his hazel eyes turning watery. But then he was tossed to the ground.

'You will not utter another word,' Gunther's heels clicked as he walked towards Drew, his voice low and threatening like a growl. 'You will do as I say and get back into your cage.'

'No,' Drew shook his head defiantly. Staring down his tormentor, he pawed at his throat. His legs wobbling like jelly as he unfastened the collar and pulled it away from his neck. Brave, quivering hands threw it at Gunther's feet. The General gawked at the discarded collar while Drew lifted a finger and tapped it against his chest, right over his heart. 'N-not... y-yours!'

The General's features darkened at the disobedience of his prisoner and he thumbed the safety back on his pistol again. 'I will not repeat myself a third time. Get. Back. In. Your-'

Drew pounced, shoulder low, tackling Gunther to the floor. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he stumbled up to straddle the man who had tortured him for so long and pulled back his fist. The first punch slammed hard into Gunther's mouth, cracking against his teeth through the soft flesh of his lips, the second's aim was poor and hit his cheekbone. It didn't matter; the seal was broken. Old habits and muscle memory flooding back into the ground-down Scot, and he may as well have been in a seedy warehouse, surrounded by baying men, fighting for his life.

He remembered all the pain and humiliation that he'd been subjected to, first from Regal, then from Gunther and his henchmen. He thought of his beautiful, brave and selfless saint, Punk, who'd shown him nothing but kindness, imagined the horrors they had inflicted on him and the fury exploded out of him like flames finding several canisters of gasoline. Drew attacked his hated foe with a barrage of punches and forearms, breaking skin and teeth and bones until their face turned into a mask of hideous red..

But his target was not just anyone. He was a seasoned fighter too, a champion, a cut-throat killer and he bucked under Drew's hips, using the Scotsman's weight to unbalance him and toppled him onto his back. Suddenly it was Drew pinned down on the floor, the General on top and he beat the Scot mercilessly. Each chop to his chest cracking against his sternum, breaking it apart.

The murderous demolition of his body felt all too familiar to Drew. Brining him back to that time when he'd first thrown his collar at his new master's feet. Back when he had felt the fingers of death briefly grab hold. He could feel them again now, digging their claws in and even though he tried to block the fists pounding down on him, he knew he would not survive a second time.

Two huge hands grabbed the sides of his face, thick thumbs boring against his eyes, gouging their way in. Gunther spat at him in German, harsh, barking words that tore holes in his ear drums. The thumbs dug in deeper and Drew opened his mouth to scream when a large hand squeezed around his tongue and pulled, trying to yank it right out of his mouth.

'GET OFF OF HIM, YOU FUCKER!'

The hands suddenly released him and Drew blinked up to find Punk on Gunther's back, bare legs wrapped tight around his wide waist, and his hands on either side of the larger man's neck. The short chain of his cuffs pressing against his jugular. Punk heaved back with everything he had, holding on tightly with his locked legs as Gunther writhed beneath him like an enraged bull. The cage-fighter grit his teeth, closed his eyes, pulled tighter but it was no use. Gunther was too strong. His hold was slipping-

Drew leapt up and wrapped his huge arms around the behemoth, pinning Gunther's arms to his side in an anaconda grip. His legs went limp, weighing down the large-set man like an anchor to the floor. Gunther squirmed and struggled against his grasp, face turning a heated red with rage. Punk arched his back, every muscle and vein bulging from his forearms as he wrenched on the chain, jamming it deep into Gunther's jugular.

'Go to sleep, you motherfucker. Sleep! Sleep!'

And Drew clung desperately, holding his tormentor down and Punk kept applying the pressure and finally, finally the monster started to weaken. Dry, shallow gasps as his windpipe was cut off, a floppiness setting into his limbs.

His knees buckled, he fell forward. Drew let go and he collapsed against the floor, Punk falling with him, still attached to his back like a spider monkey. But even when his battered body collided with the ground, Punk reset his shoulders and pulled on the chain, not taking any chances. Drew watched as the General's terrible face turned purple, lips going slack, eyes lolling.

'Is he-?' Punk glanced up at him.

Cat paw.

Punk relaxed his arms, left them dangling around Gunther's neck as he tried to will some breath back into his spent body. Bu Drew never once removed his gaze from his tormentor, watching his chest, looking for any signs of life. Once upon a time he would have silently willed his opponent to 'breathe... breathe' but this time he did not care. Did not care if the sadistic man lived or died.

The barrel chest began moving. He lived. Drew fought back the disappointment.

Punk couldn't move. Drew had to help him thread his bound arms over his defeated foe's head and up to his shaky feet. He nearly keeled right over again and Drew held him close, being mindful not to graze the gruesome wounds on his stomach. 'We need to get out of here,' Punk said through his rapid pants. 'We have to find Joe before they-'

'Before they what?'

The two men snapped around at the sound of a welcoming voice and saw Joe walk in with Ludwig's pistol in his hand. Punk huffed out a laugh, smiling wide as he stumbled over to his ex and threw his arms around him. 'You son-of-a-bitch!'

'Oh, come on, you didn't really think that scrawny twink could take me, did you?' Joe looked down at Gunther's unresponsive body. 'Can't believe you two finished that asshole off before I had a chance to kill him myself.'

'You were taking too long,' Punk teased.

'Yeah, about that...' Joe heaved a sigh, catching Punk's worried eye. 'I was calling the cops. They're on their way.' He glanced between the two lovers, catching their collective panic. 'Get Drew out of here.'

'W-what?' Punk gaped at Joe.

'I'll deal with the police. Now go, get Drew out of here while you can.'

But Punk faltered. Looking up, he caught sight of the Scot, trembling from head to foot, a line of fresh blood lining his cheek. He glanced over the scars marring his body, his big blue eyes full of trauma and pain. The unconscious body of the man who'd imprisoned him, tortured him, assaulted him lying at his feet.

'No...' Punk replied, resigned.

'What?' Joe spluttered.

'Those bastards have to be put away,' Punk said, his voice small and pained, 'if not, they'll keep coming for him again and again. They need to pay for what they did to him.' He spread out his tattooed arms, exposing the gruesome wounds covering his body. 'I'm a walking piece of evidence. Drew's their main witness. We need to be here, to talk to the cops.'

'But Phil,' Joe stepped in close, cupping his large hand around the back of Punk's head. An old gesture that comforted the stricken cage-fighter. 'He's an illegal immigrant. They might send him-'

'You were right before,' Punk cut in, scrubbing his tongue backwards and forwards over his lip to stop his emotions bursting free, 'I was being selfish. I have to do what's best for Drew, even if...' he looked up, caught those blue eyes watching him and he nearly broke down, '... even if it tears me apart.'

Drew rushed for him, pulled him in tight and stroked a hand through his hair. It felt good, being the one comforted for a change, being cared for.

From the sidelines, Joe ignored the sinking feeling in his chest. 'Go outside the pair of you,' he said to them. 'Get some fresh air and look out for the cops. I'll keep an eye on this piece of shit.' Waving his stolen gun to emphasise his point, Joe took up position over the fallen General while Drew helped Punk out the door and up the stairs.

Dawn was breaking outside. Not the spectacular kind but the quiet, sullen kind that usually preceded a wet, grey Chicago day. To Punk, however, it was the most welcome, beautiful sight. He breathed in the air of freedom greedily, for even though his capture had only been a matter of hours, he had truly believed he would never make it out of that cold room again.

The wind lifted and Punk began to shiver against its chill. Warm fabric engulfed his shoulders and he discovered the royal blue jacket he'd given to Drew. The tall Scot pulled the lapels in tight and zipped it up, ensuring the embers of his body heat didn't escape and kept the frozen cage-fighter warm.

With some difficulty, Drew helped Punk down the ladder to the ground and the two of them walked to the gates of the compound. There, they found the splayed body of Ludwig, bruised and battered with his hands tied to a metal post with a belt. Joe's handiwork, obviously. The blonde was starting to stir. Punk gave him a fierce kick to the head to put him back under again.

'That's for breaking my fingers, asshole!' Punk spat.

Prompted by his words, Drew reached for the cage-fighter's injured hand and gently lifted it up, placing a kiss on each digit. 'They'll heal,' Punk tried to comfort the Scot but he continued lavishing his affection on both of Punk's tattooed hands. His busted knuckles, his strapped fingers, his chafed wrists. Every part of those wondrous, miraculous hands.

He crossed his own hands over each other, went to place them against his chest but paused. Rapid thoughts whirred behind his blue eyes as he smiled softly and gently grasped Punk's hands again. 'L-lo-v-ve,' he stuttered out, huffing a laugh at the welcoming sound of his long-lost voice. He pointed to the first of Punk's fingers, counting them down as he went, 'love, love, love, love...' each repetition growing more confident and clear. Ten in all, one for each finger until at last, he hesitated. Blue eyes flickered up to catch hazel. 'Love,' he said at last, circling his thumb around his chest in a figure of eight.

Punk gasped, his words failing him.

Drew's brows quirked upwards, questioning, as he pointed a finger at his own chest. '... love?'

He felt numb all of a sudden, on the verge of floating away on the wind itself, as light and as fragile as a feather.

'You know what...' the corner of his mouth curled, '..I think I might. Fuck...'

Drew's perfect pink lips spread wide in a dazzling smile as he grabbed Punk's face, the cage-fighter hopping up onto the tip of toes again and their lips met. No more hesitation, no more doubt. They were taking the chance while they could. Red and blue lights began to flicker around them, the wail of sirens breaking the silence of the night, but the neither of them noticed, too engrossed in their lover's sweet embrace.

And when they finally broke apart, Punk nuzzling against the glow of Drew's hand, his thumb gently stroking back and forth over his swollen lips, he knew he had made the right choice that dark, stormy night.

He had risked it all for Drew.

And he would gladly do it again.

To be continued…

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[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 15

Hello there. I'm here with the new chapter. Enjoy :)

Just because you survive Threshing doesn’t mean you’ll survive the ride to the flight field. Being chosen isn’t the only test, and if you can’t hold your seat, then you’ll fly straight into the ground.

—Page fifty, the Book of Brennan

Air rushes past us and I sit higher in the seat and look out over the landscape, wind ripping tears from the corners of my eyes. No wonder most riders choose to wear goggles. There are at least a dozen dragons in the air, each putting their rider through a trial of dips and turns. Reds, oranges, greens, browns, the sky is speckled with color.

My heart lurches as I see a rider fall from the back of a Red Swordtail and the dragon doesn’t dip to catch the first-year. I look away before the body hits the ground.

It’s not anyone you know. That’s what I tell myself. Violet, Liam, Ethan… They’re all probably safely bonded and already waiting at the field.

“We’re going to have to put on a show.”

“Awesome.” The idea is exciting, but I don’t know if I can hold on correctly.

“You will not fall. And you will trust me.”

Not a question. An order.

“I trust you with my life, Aon!” I shout and grip tighter the pommels and I tighten my legs.

“There’s no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. The entire mountain can probably hear you.”

Oh, yes. He can hear my thoughts.

His wings give a mighty beat, and we lurch upward in what feels like a ninety-degree climb, leaving my stomach back at the lower altitude. He crests the top of the snow-dusted peaks, and we hang there for a breath of a second before he twists, diving back down at the same terrifying angle.

It’s the most exhilarating moment of my life.

Then he twists again, sending us into a spiral.

My body is wrenched this way and that as I hold on as hard as I can when he completes turn after turn, pulling us out of the dive only to bank so hard, I swear the land becomes the sky, then repeats it all until my face splits into a grin, and I laugh out loud in joy.

There is nothing like this.

It’s pure freedom.

In the sky there’s no fear, no hatred, no duty.

It’s just Aon and I.

I have never felt so free in my life.

„I think we made our point.” He pulls us level, then banks right, starting up the valley that leads to the box canyon of the training fields. The sun is close to setting behind the peaks, but there’s still enough to see Tairn and the little golden dragon with him. They stand in the middle of the field. I’m really happy Tairn chose Violet.

„Why did you choose me?” I have to know, because as soon as we land, there are going to be questions. “Professor Kaori showed us the dragons who was willing to bond this year and you weren’t among them.”

“As I said I won’t choose someone who is not worth my time. I watched, then decided. You’re smart. And you’re willing to protect the weaker. Let this be enough for now. You have to gain knowledge about what is beyond the walls of this school.”

Beyond this school? Are they witholding information from us?

Memories flash before my eyes.

The General wants me to observe the marked-ones, as if he can’t ‘see’ them with his signet. This is already suspicious.

Then he shows me a strange dagger and wants me to report him if I see even one. When I asked about it, he became irritated.

“Don’t think about it now, golden one. You have to learn how to shield your mind from others.” He says as we pass over the Gauntlet and crest the narrow entrance to the training fields.

I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of so many dragons. There are hundreds gathered along the rocky edges of the mountain slopes behind the bleachers that were erected overnight. Spectators. And at the bottom of the valley, in the same field I’d walked only a couple of days before, are two lines of dragons facing each other.

“They are divided between those still in the quadrant who chose in years past and those who chose today.” Aon tells me.

The General will be here, on the dais in front of the bleachers. I hope I can avoid him tonight.

A ferocious roar of celebration goes up among the dragons as we fly in, every head swinging our way, and I know it’s in deference to Aon. So is the parting of the dragons at the very center of the field, making room for him to land beside Tairn.

And then we land in the dead center of the field. The impact jars me slightly, but I sit up tall in the seat and even let go of the pommel ridges.

Aon tucks his wings up and looks over his shoulder at me. “You need to dismount, then tell the roll-keeper—”

“I know what to do.” I pull in a shaky breath. I can do it. I just need to go there and avoid eyecontact with the General.

I step over the scales of Aon’s shoulder and, before I can lament the distance I’m about to have to jump I just do it.

I land safely on my feet, bending my knees a little to lessen the impact.

“Don’t foget that you’re mine now, little one. And nobody can harm what it’s mine!” Aon lowers his head and blows at me warm air through his nose.

I walk across the wide field, heading for the small formation directly ahead of me. Behind me, wind sporadically gusts as more dragons land and their riders dismount to have their names recorded, but it’s softer and softer as the line spreads farther down the field. Look like we weren’t that late.

Dusk falls, and a series of mage lights illuminates the crowd in the bleachers and on the dais. In the very center, right above where the redhead from Parapet is recording roll, is General Sorrengail, dressed in all her military finery, medals and all. Though there is an assortment of generals on the dais, each representing their wing, there’s only one more highly decorated than Lilith Sorrengail.

General Melgren, the commanding general of all Navarrian forces.

They stand in a tight circle and they’re shouting. What the hell happened?

I approach the roll-keeper at the base of the dais, who’s recording bonded pairs.

“Aelin Melgren.” She looks up, then writes my name in the Book of Riders. “For the record please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

I lift my chin. “Aonniasach.”

“Pronunciation could use some work.” Aon’s voice rumbles through my head.

“Hey, at least I remembered,” I think back in his general direction, wondering if he’ll hear me across the field. “You said that I will forget it.”

“What is this commotion?” I lean closer and whisper to the roll-keeper.

She quickly looks at the shouting crowd then back at me. “It’s about Violet. She bonded with two dragons.”

What? How is that possible?

I walk toward Aon while I search for Violet.

There she is, between Tairn’s legs.

Should I go and talk to her?

“It’s not a good idea right now, little one.” Aon says in my head. “Come back, for now.”

I sigh and do as he say.

I’m so tiny compared to him. He’s smaller than Tairn, but bigger than anyone else on this field.

I stand in front of his left leg and look around. I hope to spot my friends. I need to know they’re all right.

“Look left.”

I turn in that direction and I see a grinning Liam. He’s in front of a rather big red daggertail.

I step closer to him but still maintain a safe distance. Dragons only allows their rider to approach them.

He too walks closer and hugs me tightly.

“Aelin, I’m so glad you’re here!” He whispers. “I was worried that something happened to you.”

“Well, I ran into a little trouble, but nothing I can’t handle.” I say and pull back to look into his eyes. “And you? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks me over. “Is that your blood?” He asks in a concerned voice.

“No. It’s the ‘troubles’ blood.” I shake my head grinning.

“You have to tell me later.” He sighs then looks up at Aon. “And your dragon is…”

“He’s Aon, a blue morningstartail.” I grin proudly at Aon. “He’s a little bit grumpy but deep down he’s a cutie.”

He looks at me with an expression that’s probably the dragon’s version of an eye roll.

„I’m not a ’cutie’, little one. I am a dragon.” Aon says in my head.

„Grumpy.” reply in my mind.

“See? I told you.” I laugh at Liam.

“Is it just me or he looks a bit like Sgaeyl?” He leans closer and whispers. “I mean it’s not just because he’s a blue dragon. His horns and… I don’t know, maybe I’m mistaken.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I haven’t seen another blue.” I shrug. “What about your dragon?”

“He’s Deigh, a red daggertail.” He stands straighter and looks so proud, I can’t help and smile at him.

“He looks pretty badass.” I say.

“Yes, he…” Liam turns around and looks at Deigh with wide eyes. Then he laughs.

“What did he say?” I ask curiously.

“He saw you.” He says still laughing. “He…saw you in the woods.”

“What? When?” I raise my eybrows.

“You were near to a clearing, and he said you were frozen like a sheep when you saw him, only you didn’t look so edible.”

“A sheep?” I look at Deigh and start laughing. “Yeah, maybe I was intimidated by an unbonded dragon. But thank him for me that he didn’t eat me.” So he was the red I saw. Good to know.

“Stay here, little one. The Empyrean will decide your friend’s fate.”

[exactlycleverpirate]

Tipsy Confession

Continuation of Tipsy Invitation

Spoilers for Tipsy Invitation and a little bit for Ebb and Flow.

This is currently SFW. I might continue it into the NSFW realm if there is enough interest.

I felt like Tipsy Invitation ended on such an intense and vulnerable note, with Rafayel waiting for you to decide how you want things to progress between you. I wanted to explore the response to that.

This is in 1st person with a nameless MC.

Rafayel's eyes focused on me intently. Perched on his lap as I was, his face was only inches from mine. A thick silence blanketed the room, the kind that is unique to snowy evenings.

His words hung in the air as he waited.

“Then you should say…you enjoy my company. And that I can make you happy.”

He waited in uncharacteristic patience for my answer. If I wanted to keep it light, all part of the game, he would play along and that would be that. I knew, though, that he was hoping for something different. And so he waited. The decision was in my hands.

Did I want Rafayel? As more than a playful flirtation on a tipsy winter night? If I said as much, there would be no going back. I knew something was on the brink of shifting between the two of us, if I was willing to take that last step.

I didn't even realize I’d been holding my breath until I sucked in a sharp gasp. It broke the still tension between us. Rafayel’s eyes dropped to the side, and he chuckled bitterly.

“Right, then, shall I get us another drink?” He shifted to move me off his lap so he could get up, and I could feel something precious and fragile slipping away.

Slightly panicked, I pushed him back down into the chair. Surprise flickered on his face for a moment, but he quickly rolled with it with his usual teasing air.

“Oh, are we still playing then, dear customer?”

I shook my head. “No.”

I had to push past the nervousness and take that last step, before he retreated into the play-acting that we had both been using as a shield.

Steeling my resolve, I leaned forward, our chests nearly touching. I could hear his breathing speed up, the sweet wine on his breath warming the air between us.

“Rafayel,” I whispered into his ear, feeling him tense beneath me, “I enjoy your company. And you can make me happy.”

He inhaled a sharp, shaky breath. He grabbed the hand that I had pressed against his chest when I leaned forward, bringing it to his cheek as his eyes met mine. They pierced me through, the longing, desperation, and a hint of fear in them making my heart ache, not unlike that night when I'd learned he was a Lemurian. 

“Do you know what you're saying?” He asked, eyes searching mine. He pressed a kiss to my palm as he whispered, “It won't be a game anymore if you take it this direction.”

“I'm done playing games,” I whispered back, running my thumb over his lower lip. He took the tip of it into his mouth, biting softly on it. A shiver of pleasure raced down my arm, nearly distracting me. But I needed to finish saying this.

“Before, you said there was still time for me to care for someone else.” He'd released my thumb to press another kiss against my palm. His eyes were closed, but it was evident he was listening intently. “Well, I'm afraid you're wrong about that. It's much too late for me to care for anyone else. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.”

His eyes squeezed tight as he took a shuddering breath against my hand. When they opened, the heat behind them set me on fire.

“Silly girl,” he chastised, his lips moving to the inside of my wrist as he pulled me flush against him. “As if I could ever bear to be rid of you.”

He released my hand to cup my face in his warm palms, tangling his fingers in my hair. His lips brushed mine in the gentlest tease, and I leaned forward to chase them. He chuckled in delight, before tipping my head and kissing me in earnest.

His tongue darted across my lips, and they parted for him. I whimpered as his tongue entwined with mine, grabbing his arm to ground myself as I matched his fervor with my own. He groaned as I pressed eagerly into him.

A moment later, he was standing up, his hands now hooked under my thighs as they wrapped around him. I buried my fingers into his smooth, soft hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks, nose, throat, anywhere I could reach, as he carried me into the bedroom. His soft laughter wound around my heart.

The red ribbon still hung loosely from his arms. Clearly, I'd have to test my real knot tying skills on him at some point in the future. While that was a delicious thought, right now I wanted to focus on the new, sweet, uncomplicated desire burning between us.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a NSFW continuation of this.

[mvltisstuff]

Hi hun!!! can I do a request for Evan Buckley where reader is getting really stressed at work (she works in fast food or a restaurant, yes I'm projecting lol) and he visits her at work and helps home her down and get her less stressed? just a really fluffy comfort fic, I've had such a terrible day at work I need comfort lol 🫶🫶

this love - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: i’m so sorry about your day at work ml. i wanted to prioritize this so hopefully it makes your day a little better. <33 sending you the best wishes

y/n could already tell the day wasn’t going to be kind to her. working at a restaurant where the customers think they own the place can be hell, especially when the managers do nothing about it. she tried to walk in with a smile on her face, but some days it was near impossible.

it didn’t help that buck had to leave for work early today, her not being able to spend time with him before. it killed her not being able to see him or just talk to him. he always made her worries disappear and he was the reason good days were good. he knew all she dealt with, almost being grateful that he ran into fires and didn’t deal with snobby people.

y/n just tried to force herself through her long shift thinking about buck waiting for her when she got home. she so badly just wanted him to be there with her. but, he wasn’t there. so, she dealt with it like always and pushed through people complaining.

it wasn’t until one family walked in, four loud kids and parents who pretended they weren’t there. y/n was, of course, blessed with being their waitress for the night. she could visibly see the discomfort of the people around that table, their faces scrunching up after one of the children yelled once again. it came time for them to order drinks, and the smile plastered on y/n’s face was close to breaking.

“hi guys!” she said sweetly. “i’m gonna be helping you today, any drinks i can get you started with?” the kids didn’t even notice her existence, the dad ordering a large beer and the mother trying to order a drink. y/n could barely hear her over her children speaking way too loud. “and for the kids?”

“oh, yeah,” the mom turned to look at her kids. “hey! tell her what you want.”

“uh…” the boy looked at the menu, trying to pick something to drink as y/n tried to be patient with all of them. she should be in the back right now, getting them their beverages but she’s waiting on people who she can’t even hear. “dr. pepper, please.”

“no,” the mom spoke next. “we didn’t come her for soda, get something else.”

the kid rolled his eyes, giving y/n the same stare like it was her fault. she didn’t blame the kid, clearly the parents didn’t teach their children proper manners in a restaurant. “why?” he complained.

“listen to your mother, cameron,” the dad chimed in, snapping back into reality. “he’ll have a water.”

“alright,” y/n replied, keeping her cool still. she painfully takes the rest of the orders. “i’ll be back with those.”

she lines up all the drinks on the tray, walking back out and passing them to the family. she takes an order for any appetizers, and the kids dig in instantly when they come out. when y/n starts walking away, this old woman pulls her away to her table.

“hello, darling,” she begins, and y/n can already sense what she’s saying. “i’m sorry to bother you, i know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but could you maybe ask them to quiet down?” she questions, motioning to the family.

y/n wants to say yes, appreciating the kindness from the woman. however, the thing holding her back is that the family doesn’t look willing to lower their volume. “i’ll try, ma’am. i’m very sorry about all this.”

“no worries,” she smiles and y/n walks away. she figures she has time to form her question to the family incase they twist her words. when she comes back out to get their dinner orders, she decides to ask them.

“ok, are we ready for entrees?”

“yes, finally,” the mom says, adjusting herself in the seat and beginning. “i’ll do just a chicken breast, like, just the breast, and then a side of avocado.”

y/n looks at her confused, knowing that’s not an option on the menu but attempting to continue anyway. “i’m not sure that’s on the menu, is there anything specifically on there that interests you?”

“well, you have chicken and avocado because it’s in the other dishes,” she sighs. “so i can’t just do that?”

“most of our dishes are prepared ahead of time, so the ingredients are for those spec-“

“alright, can’t you just ask the chef?”

“i have had similar requests, and he’s not allowed to switch things up like that,” y/n starts to get more irritated, wishing she could just order a simple thing on the menu and be done with it.

“fine, whatever,” she rolls her eyes just like her child did. “come back to me.”

“ok, and for you?” she moves to the kids, asking them despite their lack of attention to her. the father is still gandering at the menu, neither of them focusing on their kids. her social battery is running out quickly, being physically drained from this family. she desperately looked at the clock, seeing that the time she was done wasn’t any where near. she sighed, looking back at the kids, hoping maybe they’d notice her now. maybe it was just her, but y/n felt like the kids were getting louder and louder by the second, acting like animals in the middle of the restaurant. their voices were ringing in her ears, completely overwhelming her as she said something to the parents. “i’m sorry, can you guys just get your kids to settle down? we’ve had more complaints from other tables and i just need to take your order to get the food for you.”

“i’m sorry,” y/n could tell by the tone in her voice that it was nothing but sarcasm. “isn’t this a family friendly restaurant? i mean, seriously, first it takes forever to order, and once we do, it’s not allowed to be made! like, who is in charge here?”

“miss, i’m sorry it’s been slow, but i’m just trying to make things as smooth as possible,” y/n says. “and family friendly does not mean this is somewhere to shout and mess around.”

“i’m just,” she chuckles, keeping the scrutinizing tone. “i cant believe the treatment we’ve gotten today, it’s completely ridiculous. how you have a job here still is beyond me. this whole place i’m surprised us still in business.”

y/n can feel the anger bubbling up, watching this woman degrade her and her job in front of everyone. it’s part humiliation, trying to figure out why she’s screaming at y/n in front of the other tables. “alright, listen,” y/n breaks. “i cant stop you from being upset, but if you let me try and help you, maybe we can fix it?”

“this is completely unacceptable,” the woman places her napkin on the table. “get me the person who’s running this.”

y/n turns away, going to find her incompetent boss to deal with them. once she looks all over for her, finding her at the entrance, she starts to talk. “hey, i’m sorry, i have a family here, the one with the super loud kids, the mom wants to talk to you. she’s not happy with me because i told her-“

“i don’t need the story, y/n,” her boss groans, looking at her. “i thought you could handle this.”

“she’s refusing to listen, i don’t know what to tell you,” y/n tells as if it’s not completely different as to how both of them are acting.

“go work downstairs at the bar if you can’t handle doing this,” her boss moves out of the way, just making y/n feel even more embarrassed and exhausted. she feels the families eyes burning into the back of her, trying to cover up the burning in her own eyes. the tears sizzle up on her waterline, but refusing to let them fall. she moves downstairs, hoping the people at the bar are more compliant down there. really, she just wants to go home and see buck.

he knows how hard it is. he’s had his fair share of difficult people, and he always knows how to bring y/n down. she imagines he’s here now, but he only is in her head.

she painstakingly takes drink orders from old dudes who think she’s cute, and orders from people who barely look 21. she pushes through anyway, the clock moving slow as ever. someone must be punishing her, screwing up the time and making it turn distinctly sluggish.

the next time the bell on the door rings, she just turns away, not wanting to handle another person today. she just wants her paycheck and to be done with the day, going home to lay with buck and feel his hands on her skin. some angel from above must’ve heard her, because she saw buck and his team walking into the bar. he normally goes to the other bars, but something told him be bad to see y/n.

normally, she answers a few texts in between waiting, sending him a sweet text or replying to one of his. he’s sent her several, apologizing for leaving so early and how excited he is to see her. no response or anything, just a quick read receipt alarmed him.

she looks at him and makes eye contact, letting her shoulders droop at he sits in front of her. “hi, baby.”

“hey,” she replies. “how was work?”

“it was pretty good, you?” he looks into her eyes, small and tired and he can immediately feel somethings wrong. the rest of the team turns away like they’re not listening, but secretly worried for their friends. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” she shakes her head. “what do you guys want tonight?”

“club soda for bobby, old fashioned for me,” she starts to turn away before getting the rest of the drinks, but buck won’t let her. “hey, you ok?”

“i’m fine,” she fake grins. “just let me get started with those.”

“there’s no rush, y/n, don’t worry about it,” buck tries to put his hand on hers, as she just looks down at it. he can see the light sparkling in her eyes, the certain one he never wants to see. “alright, come here.” he leads her behind the counter, pulling her away into the single bathrooms. when the door is finally locked behind them, the tears break in her eyes and they start flowing out. “no, baby, hey,” he swipes a few away, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his chest. “what happened?”

“i’m just doing the best i can and it’s not enough,” she says quietly, muffled by bucks jacket. his heart breaks to hear her sad voice, but he lets her continue. “i’m just trying to pay for my place and for school and it feels impossible right now. like there’s no purpose for me besides letting people get pissed at me at work.”

“listen to me, y/n,” bucks gentle voice starts. he picks his hands up and placed them on the sides of her face. “look at me. you’re always enough. those people aren’t worth any of these tears. i know it’s hard, but i’m here with you no matter what. your best right now is enough. those people are so blind that they can’t see that, and they don’t deserve you one bit.”

his words honestly just make her cry more, relieved to hear his sweet voice and loveliness. “no,” he smiles a bit. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry more.”

“no, no, thank you,” she looks back up at him and his beautiful face, and he looks at hers. even when she cries and looks broken, her beauty isn’t concealed and he’s here to save her. “i really needed you tonight.”

“if you ever, ever need me,” he gets closer to make sure she gets every word. “im here. always.”

“i love you,” she smiles, and he lands his lips on hers. the sweet taste of him on her lips brings her back down, letting herself relax into his hold. she brings down all her senses, allowing it to just be her and buck for now. all of her thoughts from earlier fade away, just knowing that buck thinks she’s enough.

“so fuck whoever made you feel this way,” he jokes, but not really joking. “say it, c’mon!”

“fuck them,” she smiles.

“there’s that smile,” he grins. “you ready? everyone really wanted to see you.”

“just a minute, tell them i’ll be out.” he nods, moving out of the bathroom to let her collect herself.

“she doing ok?” hen asks, curling her lips with a bit of pity.

“she’ll be ok,” he sits. “people just suck.”

“we’re all here for her,” bobby adds. buck nods, seeing her come out of the corner and going behind the counter.

“y/n!” chim excitedly says. buck loves to see the alluring smile on her face as she greets everyone, happy to make her day shine a little more.