#and they wouldn't let him think about his answer

[ozzgin]

Keeping the theme of literary yandere characters, I return with this Kafkaesque bizarrerie of a bureaucratic madman. content: gender neutral reader, kidnapping, absurdism

Yandere!Office Worker is a prim and proper young man. He's eloquent, well-mannered, and intelligent, albeit a little stiff in his ways. One can tell he enjoys rules and structure, perhaps to the point of absurdity - otherwise he wouldn't be such a great servant of the bureaucratic machine. Indeed, everything must go according to the established code of conduct; yet, the author of these instructions remains to be determined.

Yandere!Office Worker is convinced you must become his partner at once! Consequently, you wake up in a basement, though it's not the typical basement one would imagine when thinking about basements. The wallpaper is fresh and elegant, the little window bordering the ceiling allows for plenty of natural light, and the furniture is clean, luxurious, with a faint sterile smell to it. Of course, he cleans everything thoroughly every morning at exactly 7:45am, with the exception of your bed, as he does not wish to disturb your slumber.

Yandere!Office Worker listens to your horrified pleas with profound interest in his eyes. You're a tad annoyed by his sympathy. "Hey," you warn him, "you're literally the one who kidnapped me. Don't pretend you're not involved!" He gasps, his pale, slender hand clutching at his chest. Well, pretending to clutch, that is: he wouldn't want to wrinkle his buttoned shirt.

Yandere!Office Worker vehemently denies any kind of wrongdoing. No, no, you were not kidnapped. It's a misunderstanding! He has the paperwork, you see. Everything happened according to the law. If you do insist, he can call the Tribunal. They'll tell you it all happened officially and correctly. "What's this Tribunal you speak of," you ask with a skeptical frown. "Let me call them myself," you demand, "since you can't be trusted."

Yandere!Office Worker hands you the telephone with pompous theatrics. "You're in luck," he says, "they're only open on Thursdays and Tuesdays, but only if it's sunny." You rip the device from his fingers and dial the number. His own phone begins to ring. "Yes," he answers solemnly, "how may we help you?" You stare, bewildered, at the scene unfolding before you. "Are you mocking me? What's the meaning of this," you begin to shout, but he quickly places a finger over your lips. "Not right now, Darling, I have an important work call."

Yandere!Office Worker is a damned lunatic. You march towards the door and urge him to let you go. You have coworkers, friends, and family waiting for you outside. Your partner! This idea seems to upset him greatly, because he stomps his foot into the carpeted floor and gesticulates: "Because he lifted his skirts like this, this giddy goose," he cries out, "you chatted him up, dug your nose into the pretty words like a well-fed pig!" He grabs your hands with desperate urgency. "Won't you understand already? I'm your husband, I ought to know you better than all these strangers you speak of."

Yandere!Office Worker is rather convincing in his ministerial meltdown. You inspect the documents, putting each line under scrutiny. Finally, you click your tongue. The rascal has a point, after all, everything matches the paperwork. "No mistake," you confess, handing him the thick, leather-bound folder. "I suspected you'd come to your senses very soon," he beams. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you a cup of coffee." You follow behind obediently. "I'd like-" you start, but he interrupts you. "Half a teaspoon of sugar, a little milk foam on top. Who do you think you're talking to, (Y/N)?"

[xjcjuis]

ARE YOU COMING HOME?

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: she gets a lovely surprise while on tour

warnings: nothing but FLUFF i love fluff, not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

a/n: very late merry christmas and happy new year!! not my best work but please enjoy! anyways i need to be picked up and spun around plsplspls

long distance relationships are never easy, especially when your girlfriend is one of the most famous singers in the world. she's on tour right now, overseas and so, so far away from you and your empty arms.

or so she thinks.

billie's voice is a little tinny through the phone, crackles from foil heard as she unpacks the snacks she'd bought after her show. you watch in contentment, hugging a pillow to your chest with a leg exaggeratedly thrown over it, arm starting to go numb from holding the device up.

"i bought your favorite sweets too," she says, cutting the silence. "missing you so much, i really wish you could be here to steal from me." she ends her statement with a pout. oh, how you wish you could kiss that pout off of her lips. but soon. all you need right now is patience.

"so your friends- you guys went to a hotel just to watch a movie?" billie asks, a little confused. it was the best excuse you could think of out of nowhere.

"yup," you reply, popping the p. "they're not around right now, though. out shopping. i'm too broke and lazy to go out."

"i told you you could use my card, though."

"i'm not using your card, billie."

"you could if you wanted."

"no."

she frowns, as if she were the one losing something. billie did that a lot: shower you with expensive gifts and treats and dates and refuses to accept anything back. the fact only makes you happier about your plan, knowing she'd ask about the cost but it wouldn't really matter anyway because both of you were benefitting.

"when are you coming home?" a trick question. "i miss you so so bad. and i miss staying home with shark and just cuddling together. our bed is so cold without you."

"oh?" billie grins, eyebrow raising. before she could comment anything inappropriate, the doorbell rings on her end of the line. "ah, that must be room service. i ordered dinner. be back in a minute, love."

you grin to yourself now as she turns away to answer the door, knowing that there was a very big chance that it was, in fact, not room service. your ears prick up at the hint of a gasp, muffled voices exchanging polite conversation, and billie returns in frame holding a huge bouquet of flowers, an even huger smile on her face.

she was practically glowing, outshining the sweat and slight tiredness formerly seen on her face from her performance. "you're kidding me."

"what?!" you ask, laughing. your heart swells with pride.

"you didn't seriously get me this from, what, on the other side of the world?" your girlfriend asks incredulously, admiring the little pink and white petals you'd picked out and reading the note that said nothing but 'i'm proud of you'.

you push yourself up off the bed, casually pulling on a pair of socks before slipping on your shoes, making sure to not let it be seen on camera. "i had to call in a couple of favors from your manager, of course. i'm sorry it's not in my handwriting."

and it wasn't, because you knew that billie would recognize your strokes immediately, and that would blow everything else off.

you make your way to the main hotel door, making sure your face covered the background so that the girl on your phone didn't see its similarities to her own room. "hold on, baby, i'll call you back."

the singer's dark brows furrow at your abrupt dismissal. "okay. don't take too long."

"love you."

she didn't get to reply before you click on the red button and dash to the elevator, pressing her floor in the same hotel (though she didn't know it yet), having memorized the number by heart when she told you yesterday.

you get there, just in time for the room service server to roll his cart of to her door. pushing your nerves aside, you walk right up to him and excuse the interruption. "hi, sorry. my girlfriend is in this room and i was hoping to surprise her, would you mind if i borrowed your hat?"

he agrees, barely hiding a smile. thanking him, you took a deep breath to compose yourself, jamming the hat onto your head. your hand lingers over the bell, glancing nervously at the server, who in turn nods encouragingly at you.

ding.

footsteps can be heard from inside, and you count to five before the door swings open and you drop your head to hide your face, resorting to deepening your voice. "hello ma'am, room service-"

"y/n?" she gasps in recognition, incredulous. billie's hand is frozen on the doorknob, staring in disbelief.

finally, you raise your head and hand the server his hat back, your smile having difficulty in concealing a laugh. "surprise?"

you're unable to do anything more when billie snatches you up by the waist, raises you, and spins you around dramatically, her own lips wide in a grin. the sudden movement messes up your hair, getting it over your shoulder and behind and swept towards the opposite side but she didn't care. your girlfriend pulls you in close in a tight hug, one arm around your waist and the other resting upon your spine.

her happiness can still be felt blind.

she wouldn't let go, not for a second to get inside, not to formally accept the room service food, so you thank the server over her shoulder.

he leaves you and billie to your moment a little awkwardly.

"you didn't tell me you were here!" she whines into your hair.

you laugh. "that's the point of a surprise, bils."

"i can't believe you actually flew here. you hung up on me. i love you so so so much, you know that?"

"yes, i know." another soft smile graces your face. "i love you so so so much too."

[stvrnioloslvt]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

fuck you, christopher sturniolo

✎ t.w.: sexual tension!

you sighed, throwing your books in your bag. what was the point of studying until you felt physically nauseous if the maximum you could get was always a C?

you didn't understand: you did everything you could think of to memorise and understand the stuff you had to study for your exams, yet it wasn't enough. it never was.

"hey! how..." your roommate turned to face you with a big smile on her face, holding proudly her exam sheet with a big red A written on top of it. her smile faded as soon as she saw your disappointed expression, her eyes falling to the piece of paper you had abandoned carelessly on your desk. "oh, baby..." she cooes, her hand rubbing comfortingly your arm. "it's fine, next time it'll go better, yeah?"

you shake your head, the weight of disappointment sitting heavily on your stomach. you sighed before saying, "i need to get some air. i'll see you at the rink, yeah?"

cherry sighed, but she nodded nevertheless. she whispered a soft "okay," then let go of your arm as you got up and left the room.

the halls were, as always, crowded as fuck. normally it wouldn't bother you one bit, but today...yeah, today you were pissed, to say the least. you just couldn't help it, negativity radiating from every cell of your body.

your original plan of going outside to cool your brain quickly changed, your feet bringing you elsewhere, completely out of your jurisdiction. and before you knew it, you stood at the perimeter of the ice rink, watching as a bunch of hockey players glided left and right across the arena.

your eyes caught the jersey of a man sliding right in front of you, the name "STURNIOLO", the number 3 standing proudly below it.

"yo, ice baby" chris took off his helmet right as the coach blew in the whistle, signaling the end of the practice. your friend shook his head left and right, droplets of sweat flying around. you mentally thanked the presence of the thick plastic walls between you two. chris got out of the rink, stomping his feet to reach you without losing balance.

he sat on the bench near you, putting the helmet down. "so? what are you doing here? you don't have lesson for another hour and a half."

you shrugged, sitting down beside him. "just had to get some fresh air."

chris eyed you, analyzing your face. he clearly didn't buy your lie, and he was determined to find out what was going on in your mind. "yeah, no kid, spill the truth or something cause i'm not buying your bullshit."

you groaned annoyed, well aware that he wasn't going to let it go until he had an answer. sighing, you got up, walking back and forth while explaining to him how frustrated you were at yourself cause no matter how hard you studied, nothing seemed to work and you felt like you were just loosing time.

chris didn't speak, letting you ramble on and on about your problem, eventually nodding to signal that he was, in fact, listening. you took a big breath once you finished talking, feeling definitely better. maybe cherry was right when she told you that speaking does, indeed, help.

"you do know that matt took the same exam, right?"

taken aback by his question, you didn't answer him: did he? he probably took it the year before, cause there was no way you never noticed him. you shook your head, sitting down in front of your friend.

he hummed, shrugging before casually saying "he did. passed with a straight A, maybe he can help you."

"i..."

"it's fine, really. i'll talk to him at dinner, yeah? don't worry, baby, you're gonna ace it." and just like that, he got up from the bench, grabbing his helmet before ruffling your hair and heading outside.

"hey! aren't you gonna shower or something?" you called out, watching confused as chris turned around briefly, exclaiming "water's out!" before closing the door behind him.

you furrowed your brows, clearly not expecting it. you decided to check for yourself, walking towards the door that lead to the locker room.

as you entered the room, you didn't notice the lonely gym bag hiding behind the door, its content spilling from the open zipper. you kept walking towards the showers, wanting to check the water pressure from one of the sinks there.

as you opened the door, steam engulfed you whole, blocking your view. from one of the open showers emerged matt, wrapped in a white towel. you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to do, but with one thought in mind: fuck you, christopher sturniolo.

right as you turned around to run away from there, matt's eyes caught yours, freezing you on the spot. you couldn't help but admire the way drops of water dripped from his long hair, falling on his face and neck, running down to his exposed torso. and god, was he well sculpted. your mouth dried at the sight, your heart drumming in your ribcage. your hands itched with the want–no, the need– to touch him, to explore his body with your fingers, drawing every crevice and dip and curve of his abs.

"jesus," you whispered softly, almost inaudible, catching yourself in the act and hoping he didn't hear anything. luckily for you, he didn't. and if he did, he acted like he didn't.

he cleared his throat, smirking as your eyes snapped back to his face. "anything you like, baby?" he asked, stepping closer to you to grab another smaller towel he had placed on the sink earlier. he ran said towel through his hair, trying to absorbe as much water as possible, all while not breaking eye contact. for the first time, you asked yourself if he called you by your name or if he meant it as a pet name. either way, you didn't like how much it affected you.

"i- i'm sorry i didn't know you were here," you stuttered embarrassed, trying to regain some decency back.

he bit back a smile, genuinely amused by the situation. "clearly," he murmured, watching you struggle to not let your eyes fall back on his body. he decided to pull a little trick on you, glancing down quickly at his body knowing that the immediate reaction he would get would be a mirror of his own act. and, indeed, your eyes travelled down his body instinctively, a natural reflex of your own body betraying you. 

you mentally cursed yourself, realising too late what had just happened. however, you couldn’t help but stare, noticing only now the tent hiding beneath his towel. you didn’t know if it was the steam, matt’s presence or your own arousal, but your mind began fogging like crazy, leaving you dizzy and unstable on your legs. matt took a couple steps towards you, your feet moving backwards until your back hit the cold tile wall of the shower room, effectively trapping you.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body clouding your senses, turning your brain in mush.  

“matt-” you gasped, his blue eyes burning holes into your skin from the intensity of his gaze. he slowly raised his hand, caressing so delicately your cheek the same way you would touch a ceramic doll, delicate and careful in fear it might break. you closed your eyes at the contact, so delicate and warm yet so wrong and rushed. you swallowed hard before managing to croak out a soft “what are you…”

at the sound of your voice matt seemed to snap back to reality, his hand dropping by his side. the bubble of tension suddenly bursted, bringing you both back to reality, cold chills running through your arms. “shit, i-” he sighed, running a hand on his face, “you should probably go.”

you stood there paralyzed for a couple more seconds, watching as he turned around and walked away. you nodded slowly to no one in particular before running through the door, leaving the locker room. as soon as the chilled air of the halls hit your face you started breathing again, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

and as you walked towards your room, only one image crossed your mind, repeating on loop: matt sturniolo half naked in front of you, aching to touch you.

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

ও a.n: hi guys, i'm so sorry i haven't posted in a while, i have a shit ton of exams to take and way too little time to write :(

ও anyway, hope you liked the little sexual tension between those two, i sure has hell had fun writing it! as always, you're more than welcome in my comments/inbox to ask questions, requests, etc.

ও also... look how cute this little thing is! it's a fennec fox, and i feel like it embodies 100% baby's personality, cute as fuck but also wild and not too keen on physical contact. in love with it, honestly.

love you all, bree ☾

icy taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn @sofieeeeex @m4ttg1rl @marrykisskilled @thecrawlys @x0x0bunny @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosweets @sturnslutz @user1smvtysturniolo @gabrielaperez11

[bunni-v1]

Bunni that lighter x virgin reader was so GOOD??? YOUR BRAIN SO BIG?? it got me all embarrassed reading it, I had to take breaks in between cause the image of soft dom lighter is just so abgssngausgahstshh???? (I was also blasting ‘Like You Mean’ It by Steven Rodriguez when I was reading ur fic like oh god this song fits lighter so much 😳)

Aaaanyways I was wondering if you have any hcs for the day after lighter takes readers first time or any after care that he’d do? Also bit of a tangent but do you think lighter is the type to have cheesy nicknames for his partner like idk…sugar? Pumpkin? Or would he go the normal babe and doll type

Sorry it’s a bit long, I’m just happy to see lighter writers you all are a blessing thank you for the food 🤲🏼

🍓Hello lovely! Sorry I took so long to get to this, I'm p sure the hype around that fic is over, but this has been on my mind for so long and I just haven't had the motivation. I got some now, though, so here it is! (this is less headcannons and more a whole fic in bulletpoints lol) I hope you enjoy <3

TW: Day after; Alludes to previous sexual intercourse; Grammar Errors

Info: Lighter x Reader; Fluff; Headcannons

-You wake up to sunlight filtering in through the small crack between Lighters blinds, the warmth on your face a kindness that calls you to stir to life. There's a heavy weight across your middle and on your chest, accompanied by a different type of warmth -- human warmth.

-Your eyelids flutter open and, of course, you see your beloved partner Lighter curled up into your chest. He looked so peaceful resting like this, like all his worries had melted away from his mind and into the sheets until he woke up.

-You bring your hands up to play with his fluffy hair, smiling when he huffs a bit in his sleep, burrowing himself further into your chest if that is possible. Even in sleep he was trying to find ways to get you closer to him...

-Though he'd technically gotten you as close as possible last night if the dull ache inside you was telling enough. You could feel the sting in your hips already, and you would certainly limp a little when you got up, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

-His green eyes blink up at you after a while of playing with his hair, foggy and glazed from sleep. He still finds it in himself to smile affectionately at you, and you can't help but smile back.

-"G'morning beautiful," He rumbles out, voice rough from his moaning last night, "Sleep well?"

-You nod at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his puffy lips in appreciation. That was answer enough for him and he lifted his weight off you in favor of leaning over you.

-He asks you if you're aching anywhere, and promptly massages your hips with the calloused pads of his fingers. The friction still surprisingly pleasant, and the ache in your hips eases up a little. It warms your heart, the amount of care he treats you with.

-He'll coo at you sweetly as he tries his best to ease the pain, mumbling about how much he enjoyed last night. How pretty you are. How much he loves you. How grateful he is you trusted him. All the sweet nothings.

-He takes the morning uncharacteristically slow, having been excused by Caesar apparently, or so he claims. He lazes around with you, happy just to have you in his arms for a while. You do, however, have to get up at some point which he grumbles about when you move to roll out of the sheets.

-You were right about the ache in your hips, you end up limping your way to the shower, and standing for the duration of it sucks. Lighter offers to help you out, but you insist on doing it by yourself (you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself if you'd let him).

-Instead, you let him pick out some old clothes of his to wear, since yours don't exactly smell the best at this point. A too big t-shirt and a pair of sweats that no longer fit him find their way to your arms

-He waits for you patiently, like a puppy locked away from its owner during work hours. It's very cute. He's dressed now, cleaned up by himself while you were gone it seems. He practically leaps to greet you, pulling you into a sweet kiss. You hadn't expected him to be so clingy, but it was incredibly charming.

-He guides you carefully through Blazewood to get breakfast from Cheesetopia -- or, brunch more like it. You figured after your first time you would be a bit awkward, but Lighter didn't allow you any room for that. All was as usual, assuring you that nothing major had changed. Which, why would it have?

-Well... there was one thing...

-Caesar sat in a booth as you walked in, and the grin on her face said it all. She waved you over, and Lighter begrudgingly helped you over. You do your best to hide the limp, though it's absolutely futile with Caesars next words.

-"Have fun last night you two?" She teases, and humiliation washes over you -- Lighter's cheeks also turning a deep red, "No need to answer. We all heard you last night."

-Obviously, everyone around here knew of your relationship with Lighter... they didn't need to know the details. When you don't answer in your fluster, Caesar scoffs and waves her hands playfully. "Just kiddin', I stopped by to check up when you two disappeared. Congrats though!"

-She leaves you to eat after nearly giving you a heart attack, and you happily enjoy what you ordered. Feeling incredibly hungry after the night you had. Lighter doesn't seem to interested in his food, though. Just watching you with that same intensity from last night.

-You ask what's wrong, and he smiles wide at you, "Nothing, just admiring what's mine."

-You don't respond to that, because there's nothing you could say that's nearly as smooth as that.

Bonus:

You had me thinking about the nicknames a lot. I think that he definitely uses babe and baby the most. It's simple and easy to say, and people won't bat an eye if he calls you something like that. But he has other nicknames he uses you, some for specific situations, others just because he likes to switch it up sometimes.

Sugar is something he uses almost exclusively during sex. It's his way of coercing you into letting him take care of you, especially when you're acting all shy like it's an inconvenience. Or when you're afraid to make noise, "Lemme hear ya, Sugar~ Don't be shy~"

Darling is one that's more common to hear him throw out at random. However, it does have a specific use: scaring off other people. When someone is getting a little too friendly, he'll watch for a while until he can't bear it anymore and he has to intervene. He'll wrap his arms around you from behind, press a kiss to your temple, and ask "How're you feelin' Darlin'?" With a sharp glare at the offender

Doll is one that he likes to use to get you to squirm, almost always accompanied by a handsome grin. He uses it more to placate you when you're upset at him in a playful way. Like when his fangirls get a little too excited and upset you, he'll take your face in his hands and hum out, "Y'know they're not even half of what you're worth to me, doll. Stop your worrying."

Pumpkin I hadn't considered, but I think he uses it in private when it's just the two of you. It's a soft kind of thing he uses when you're really warming his heart. Curled up into his side half asleep, you'll hear him whisper it into the crown of your head, "I love you, Pumpkin."

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter seven

synopsis: you get into some shenanigans while on the run, reminders of your past coming back to haunt you in the process. and phosphorus comes to a life changing conclusion about you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, this one's a doozy, reader deserves the world, mahalat is just... mahalat.

The sound of soft panting forced you to slowly come to, a faint groan leaving your lips as your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of an irradiated back and the visible spine underneath.

'Phos...'

You attempted to move, but winced, your entire body aching from head to toe, and your strength not yet returned to break free from his hold.

Not to mention your mind was exhausted from the mental battle you fought to regain control over your body.

Healing be damned, you felt like you'd been hit by an eighteen-wheeler...

"Morning, sleepyhead," Phosphorus sang, looking both ways before quickly running across a back-alley street, just barely avoiding a Pokolistani jeep. "Sweet dreams?"

"Where the hell are we?" you grumbled, weakly lifting your head and turning to face him.

"A town, I think," he answered, making a sharp right turn. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's the last one before we reach the castle."

"Where are the others?"

"Couldn't tell ya. After we got split up, and you decided to drop by, I high-tailed it. The police were on my ass."

"Still are," you scoffed with a chuckle, nodding to the faint sirens in the background. "This your first time dodging the cops, princess?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to complain, snoozy. I'm still waiting for when it's time for us to switch."

"Like hell I'm carrying you. By the time I get back to prison, I'll be on chemo for the rest of my life."

"Demons don't get cancer."

"Skeletons don't have dicks."

"You gonna keep bringing that up?"

"I—" "Shush."

Sliding between two houses, he effortlessly hopped a brick wall, dropping the both of you into a bush just as two more jeeps drove past.

Using his hands, he put you down and pulled apart a few branches, peeking to see if the coast was clear.

You, on the other hand, were starting to really wake up, realizing that you seemed to have a fresher injury on your backside.

"Fuck, why does my ass hurt, too?" you groaned, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Well... I may have smacked it once," Phosphorus admitted, suspiciously. "Or twice... possibly three times... a little over four? Honestly, I lost count after tenth or twelfth time."

SMACK!

"You keep doing that. It turns me on more than you think," he chuckled, adjusting his jaw.

"Pervert!" you whisper-yelled, pissed. "We talked about this! Hooker rules!"

"No kissing on the mouth?"

"Stripper rules."

"What was I supposed to do? You've seen your ass, you should be proud I held out as long as I did," he defended, the two of you standing up and pressing against the side of the house, using the roof as cover from the helicopters.

"Oh, yeah? And how long was that?"

"Five minutes."

"You're impossible."

Managing to reach the front door, Phosphorus melted the handle, unlocking it and allowing you both to slip inside before the search-light could catch you.

Panting, the two of you finally took a moment to breathe, looking around to familiarize yourselves with your surroundings.

"Here," you sighed, pulling off his lab coat and tossing it to him as you headed toward the living room. "I'm changing."

'Fuckin' Christ...'

He could practically feel his pants tightening at the sight of you, naked as the day you were born—save for your boots.

You looked so sexy in the moonlight, and your unabashed confidence only added to the appeal.

"Y'know..." he cleared his throat, shoving his arms through the sleeves before rolling them up. "I think now's a good a time as any to take a nice break. Relax... kick up your feet... let off a little steam..."

"Save it," you scoffed, opening the hallway closet and rummaging around until you found a black trash bag. "We've got enough to worry about."

In the bag was a secret stash of clothes, ranging on a scale of scandalous to downright slutty.

'Perfect.'

Fishing around, you managed to pull out a pair of black, open-stitch, boot-cut jeans, a matching jean jacket, and a black, leather bikini top.

"And just my size," you grinned, quickly tugging them on.

"How'd you know that stuff was there?" Phosphorus asked, confused.

"She's a pretty woman in a European country. Nine times out of ten, she was a party girl at some point," you explained, nodding to the photos on the wall as you tied up the pants. "But she grew up. Got a husband... bought a house... had a kid. They can't see this filth, but she doesn't have the heart to throw away the memories along with it. So she shoves it in a garbage bag and stuffs it in the back of the closet."

The man turned, examining the pictures, quite surprised to see that your educated guess was correct.

She was pretty, and she had a husband and daughter.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"M'catchin a few more Zs before we move on," you announced, adjusting the jacket as you plopped yourself down on the couch, closing your eyes.

"Uh huh," he answered, mindlessly, as he continued to stare at the photo.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"Please! Have mercy!" your mother wailed, frantically struggling against her binds as she looked around the room, searching for a kindred face past the velvet hoods. "I'll do anything!... Oh, God! I'll give you anything you want!"

But not a single one of them stopped, the entire room of cultists pressing on like she wasn't even there, continuing to bow in sync around the altar she rested upon.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"M-Money! I have money! Say whatever number, I'll give it to you!" she begged, gasping and choking for air as she attempted to get her words out, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivulets. "My house! Take my house! It's all yours! Please!"

Out from the darkness, the Grand Master emerged—along with his two attendants—a silver tray in hand.

On it were only two things:

A wooden bowl... and a ceremonial dagger.

"Oh, God!" your mother sobbed, pulling violently against the ropes that strapped her pregnant self to the table. "Please! Have mercy!... I haven't done anything wrong!"

But he drew nearer still, one of the attendants taking the tray as they reached the table, the Grand Master taking the dagger.

The handle was made entirely out of human bone, its carvings depicting the souls of the damned and their infinite torture in Hell.

Reverently, he grasped it with both hands, carrying it over until the dagger's pointed tip was aimed directly for your mother's heart.

"Please..." she pleaded for the final time, unable to stop the second wave of tears from flowing down her cheeks. "Not my baby."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, the Master's face stone cold as he plunged the knife into her heart, her screams of pain muffled by the raging thunder and lightning outside.

Quickly taking the bowl, the Master used it to catch her blood as it spilled from her chest, waiting until the woman lost consciousness before pulling away.

"Tekchau ma'at tu na ekk bay pavak!" he bellowed, dipping his two fingers in the blood before drawing an intricate symbol over your mother's pregnant belly.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Suddenly, the satanic markings on the wall began to glow dark red, illuminating the room with a presence that would make any sane person turn tail and run.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"TEKCHAU MA'AT TU NA EKK BAY PAVAK!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Roaring with passion, the Master stabbed your mother in the stomach, violently tearing it open as the followers mimicked the sound.

And with a deafening, other-worldly shriek, a malevolent shadow burst from the wound, instantly slashing the Master's throat before moving on to the others.

Blood-curdling creams of panic and terror echoed throughout the room as the followers were murdered left and right, unable to escape as the being had locked all the doors and windows.

Amidst the chaos, one of the attendants rushed to your mother's side, dodging flying limbs and splattering blood.

Sadly, your mother was long dead, but the attendant was quick to reach her hands inside her stomach, quickly fishing around before grasping onto the reason for this whole ritual.

You.

Carefully, she pulled your tiny body out, a smile breaking out onto her face at the sight of your reddened skin, pointed ears, and tail.

You were beautiful...

But her happiness was short lived, the shadow-being finishing off the last follower before zooming over to you, entering your body through your nostrils and successfully possessing your infant self.

Instantly, your tail whipped up and stabbed the attendant in the neck, forcing her eyes wide.

With a sickening slice, you slashed her throat, dropping her to the ground.

She died almost immediately... but not without uttering two final words.

"Praise Mahalat."

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is my pleasure tonight to show you an act that had never been performed in the history of the world!" the ringmaster announced, his proud statement met with the starry eyes of hundreds of children and parents.

"Tonight... I debut the newest headliner of my show! A marvel by which the likes of you have never seen!"

Nervously, a six year-old you shifted on your feet, waiting patiently on the riser for your cue.

This was going to be your first time performing in front of an audience...

"We've pulled out all the stops tonight! Of course, for the audience, but also for a very special guest we have this evening! Everyone! Please give a big, warm welcome to Mr. Vice President [REDACTED]! And his lovely wife!"

The crowd roared with applause as the spotlight moved to him, the Vice President giving a proud smile and a strong wave before the ringmaster returned to his introduction.

"Now without further ado, I present to you the Hellish Wonder! The Monstrous Spectacle! The Flying Demon of Gotham! (y/n)!"

Quickly, you grabbed your bar, pushing off and swinging directly into the spotlight, earning loud gasps of surprise and wild roars of applause.

Using your momentum, you dismounted, performing three forward flips before Greta—a fellow trapeze artist—caught you by your ankles, swinging in the other direction.

The crowd ooed and ahhed at your display, watching intently as you performed moves that had never been done before—with about as much effort as wiggling your pinky toe.

"You are doing wonderful, (y/n)!" Greta encouraged as she swung over, catching you by your ankles before gravity took her back the way she came.

"Really?!" you asked, eagerly, relieved to hear that you were doing well, and that the crowd was loving the show.

"Ja!" she laughed, warmed by your excitement. "A few more moves and you'll be done! Make me proud!"

As she swung forward again, you let go, doing five backflips in a row before grabbing onto a rope, using it to swing yourself around to the audience.

There, you leaned over, giving high-fives to all the kids as you flew past.

"Cool!"

"Awesome tail!"

"Look at her horns!"

You were over the moon, baffled by all the overwhelming positivity you were greeted with.

In fact, you were so over the moon that you'd failed to pay attention to the last kid, your nail grazing his palm a little too harshly and drawing blood.

"Ouchie!"

The instant you got a whiff... it was all over.

"Time to feed!" Mahalat's voice cackled in your mind, forcing you to gasp and lose focus.

She took over in an instant, launching you at the boy and clamping your fangs down on his arm, tearing it from his socket.

The surrounding crowd let out screams of horror as you began to feast right then and there, tearing into the limb like a feral animal.

But the demon wasn't one to let food go to waste.

Opening your mouth, she flew into the air, spinning around as she blew blazing hellfire in all directions.

The crowds of hundreds trying to escape the big top were immediately set aflame, shrieks of agony and torture bounding through the air.

"(y/n)!" Greta shouted, swinging over and landing on your back, throwing an arm around your neck. "Stop this! You are hurting them!"

But it all went in one ear and out the other, Mahalat grabbing her by her face before effortlessly tearing her head off her shoulders, preventing her from saying anything else.

In a bout of irony, the demon bit her lips off, taking the head as she flew through the roof of the tent, leaving the countless families to burn to death as she soared through the night sky.

Enjoying her midnight snack.

"What the—? Where am—AAAAAAAAAH!" you shrieked, eyes shooting wide as they landed on the sight before you.

An absolute massacre...

Viscera flooded the closed off street, slowly sinking into the city sewers as the rain attempted to wash it away.

Half-eaten, dismembered limbs were strewn everywhere—in the punch bowl, on the buffet table, hell, you had someone's leg in your arms.

Your mouth and hands were covered with blood, the taste of human meat fresh on your tongue.

And all you had done was leave to go to the store...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" you frantically threw away the leg, trembling violently as your hands moved to tightly grasp your hair.

Even the children weren't safe, a tiny hand with a Dora the Explorer watch sitting not too far away.

"These are the consequences of your rebellion, (y/n)..." Mahalat stated, coldly. "You forget your place."

Horrified, you turned around, utterly hysterical as you barfed up a bloody mess.

Eventually, though, you caved, racked with sobs as you crumpled into yourself, wanting nothing more than to be arrested and put to death.

But fate had other plans, the Dark Knight himself swooping in as your angel of mercy.

As he stood over you, surveying the scene, his expression dropped slightly in an uncharacteristic bout of pity.

Especially when you weakly grabbed onto his cape.

"Please..." you begged, voice barely above a whisper. "Kill me."

"Yana!" a voice shouted, snapping you out of your sleep.

Abruptly, you sat up, eyes frantically scanning over the room in search of Phosphorus.

But he was nowhere to be found.

'Shit.'

Jumping off the couch, you used your sense of smell, following his scent all the way to backyard.

The backyard... where he was playing with a little girl.

And the backyard... where her mother and father were less than pleased.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, carefully putting the girl down and letting her run back to her parents. "We were just... pretending to fly."

Sensing the sincerity in his voice, you saved the scolding, deciding not to ask questions.

'We gotta get moving.'

"C'mon," you sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the fence as you turned to the parents. "Thank you for the clothes!"

You let him hop over first before following, waiting until you both got a good distance away from the house before you spoke up.

For the very first time since you'd known him, he was completely silent, not saying a word as you trudged over a grassy hill.

Not one pun.

Not one sex joke.

Not even a single pass at you.

Just... nothing.

It worried you, making an odd string to tug at your heart and force you to get to the bottom of it.

"Phos?" you started, softly, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Lifting his head, he turned to you, eyes widening as—for a split second—your expression morphed into that of his late wife.

Right then and there, it felt as if his whole paradigm shifted, the jigsaw pieces of his life seeming to fall into place right before him.

Taking the shape of you.

Your laugh... your smile... your warmth—they were things he wanted to be in the presence of well-past the end of the mission.

He wanted you, past a friend or a fuck, but as someone to stay by his side, someone to hold.

Someone to care about again...

"Alex..." he blurted, unable to take his eyes away from your face. "Call me Alex."

Surprised, your eyes widened slightly, a familiar burn rising to your cheeks at his intense stare.

But the shock was quick to subside, replaced with understanding as you stopped in your tracks, smoothly taking his hand in yours.

Intently, he watched, your touch singeing his skin as you held his hand, flashing him a coy smile.

"Alright, Alex... let's go kill a princess.

[bbrokenbback]

"My lord."

She bowed low, trying to show her gratitude from the very start. Perturabo wasn't the Primarch who allowed audiences with mortals easily, it was an awfully long and painful process to reach him, and, however dissatisfied she was with the whole ordeal, her goal was worth every single second.

"Make it quick," Perturabo said, glaring at her from his command throne.

Of course he wouldn't make it private. There were a few of his sons standing around, working on some routine at the bridge.

She smiled and raised her eyes to meet his.

"I've come here to humbly ask for your first captain's hand."

For a moment it felt like the whole bridge fell silent. Even the Iron Blood seemed to quieten down, surprised to her nuclear core.

Perturabo's face didn't express anything. But he was silent for a whole minute after hearing her words, and it was an answer in itself.

He turned away from her and placed a finger to his gorget, calling the said captain to the bridge. And until Forrix, confused, blessed the still shocked place with his presence, the Primarch hasn't uttered a word.

Kydomor inherited many of his father's talents, and one of them helped him to keep an indifferent expression as he saw her. The girl, one of the younger serfs of Mechanicum, had the questionable luck of ending up at Iron Warriors' fleet, and, as much as it taught her many interesting things, it distanced her from her rather conservative colleagues.

Soon her status of the serf was unofficially changed. The first captain found pleasure in her company, showing her advanced simulation technologies and introducing her to the Primarch's works on advanced math and engineering.

She stayed just a serf on paper, even a candidate for a servitorisation, which was stated as her possible career perspective. But none of her Mechanicus supervisors dared to distract her from attending the first captain's personal requests.

Since the legion now mostly consisted of olympians, rumors spread among warriors quicker than it was dignified for Astartes. Forrix and his little pet used to get quite a lot of attention until everyone came to peace with the strange routine the strange captain created for himself with his strange human.

And Forrix was sincerely happy those rumors never reached Perturabo's ears. He definitely wasn't ready for everything that would consequently come after this.

"So, my honorable first captain, Kydomor Forrix the Breaker, named Kaidomo at birth..." Perturabo began listing Forrix' titles, and his malevolent grin grew exponentially as he did so.

Forrix was glancing at him and at his "pet" with his one good eye, his worry growing in tact with Perturabo's somehow evil and mocking joy.

"...I see you now have a mistress, who's rather... dedicated."

Perturabo was looking at his son, waiting for an answer. But Forrix was silent, a lump in his throat.

"Answer me when I talk to you, captain!" Perturabo slammed his fist onto the iron armrest of his throne.

"That is correct, my lord," Kydomor said quickly.

"Good."

Forrix' mind was storming. He thought about his... talented assistant, with whom he had an exclusively platonic relationship, he thought about how humiliated he felt when his friendship was described by Perturabo with that tone and those words, and he thought about his position and reputation, crumbling in front of him. He hated himself for allowing a liability to appear in his life, he hated himself for not being strong enough to push her away. And he hated himself for worrying about her fate more than he worried about his own fate.

He hated that he convinced himself it was just platonic. That she was just a very talented, very gifted girl, who helped him with minor tasks and gave him food for thoughts. He hated that he spent hours, days and weeks thinking about her and never let any of his true feelings show.

He hated that he did so little to protect her and that he didn't have neither time nor courage to talk to her sincerely.

He didn't even edit her personal file to delete the possibility of servitorisation. And now... it seemed like it was too late.

She must've read it in his gaze. Because all of her bravado disappeared, and Forrix saw how her body tensed, ready to run towards him in a foolish attempt to protect... both of them.

Perturabo sighed tiredly, and the sound filled the room.

"Why exactly have you two decided to spend my time for such a reason? Are we the order of ancient chivalry? Or, maybe, girl, you messed up the numbers and think you're on the third's ship?"

Forrix turned to Perturabo confused.

"My lord-"

"Listen to me carefully, Kydomor Forrix. Whatever you do with your serfs, whether you kill, fuck or marry them, is none of my concern until you fulfill your duties. You two can do whatever you want, and if you want to get married, you don't need my permission. And I definitely do not need to know what kind of relationship my sons have with mortals."

Forrix blinked. Married? Wasn't he called here to be disciplined? He noticed how the girl's face lit up, and felt even more lost.

"Now get out of here and, please, don't make me see any of those scenes in the future."

Forrix was frozen and silent, while the girl spoke:

"So we have your blessing, my lord?"

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BRIDGE!"

Forrix practically stormed out of the doors with his talented serf friend in his hands.

***

When they left, Perturabo sighed deeply and shook his head.

"Romantics... As if my blessing is going to bring anything good upon you..."

Consider:

Asking a primarch for his blessing to propose to one of his sons. Or depending on the primarch just for his son's hand.

Asking Guilliman permission to propose to Cato, then after laughing a few minutes, realizing you're serious, trying to talk you down like "but WHY", eventually relenting because he thinks its going to be so so funny when Cato finds out they asked him and treated him like a planet governors eligable daughter.

[sylver-star]

⭑.ᐟ

You unlock the door with your spare key, the one he had given you just for emergency. It struck you the wrong way to come to his apartment unannounced at first, but you had your reasons. Loneliness should count as an emergency, right? The door clicks open and you walk in, immediately you're hit with a luxurious smell of something floral that you can't quite place - but it's refreshing nevertheless.

After putting your shoes away on the welcome mat, you finally put your feet on the shiny wooden floors. You can't help but to compare his apartment to yours, which hasn't been this clean since you first got it.

"Minghao?" you call out, but not loud enough so as to accidentally wake him if he happens to be asleep.

There's no answer, so you shrug off your coat and hang it beside his. You carefully smooth out your skirt and look at yourself in the mirror. He might not be home. It wouldn't be strange if he wasn't, he was probably out at a fancy bar somewhere with some important client. Your brain kind of turns off when he starts talking about his work, and you think he's started to notice from the way that he always pauses and smiles before asking about your day. It's not that you don't care, you want to see him happy and well off, but at times the way that he talks about his work just sounds like the grown-ups in the Peanuts cartoons.

You walk into the kitchen, which is just as clean as the rest of the house. Except, there's a pot soaking in the sink. It's been there for long enough to not be able to guess what's been in there. You roll up your sleeves and start washing up. It should feel weird to do his dishes, but you can't help but to feel a little giddy. It feels so domestic. Coming home from a long days work, making dinner for each other while the other one does the dishes. He hasn't actually made dinner for you, but you let yourself daydream.

You shift to stand on one leg, letting the other foot lightly kick up before balancing it on your toe - a flustered tick. With the hot water running, and the scrubbing sounding out loud, you don't hear the soft footsteps coming up behind you. It's only when you feel Minghao's arms wrap around you that you realize that he's there.

"Are you doing my dishes, honey?" he asks in a gentle yet teasing tone.

"You're home!" You turn your chin to look at him over his shoulder.

From what you can see, he has his glasses on and his hair's a mess. It's not what you were expecting, but the look is greatly appreciated. You lean into his warmth, and his arms squeeze your waist.

"This is my apartment," he says.

"I thought you were out on business..." You sigh and turn off the sink to lean further into him. "Are you always this warm?"

He chuckles, and it vibrates through his chest. "You're just cold, honey."

Minghao grabs your hands in his, not caring that they're still wet. His hands are warm and soft, making you smile at the touch. He lets go of you with one hand, spinning you around slowly to face him with the other. You notice he's already in his pajamas. Both of his hands encapsulate yours again.

"I was going to take care of that in the morning." His gaze is focused on your hands as he tries to cover them with his.

"You ate at home tonight?"

"Well, you said you had other plans." He looks at you up and down with a fond look in his eyes. "It certainly looks like you had other plans. Hope you didn't skip them for me, pretty."

"I didn't. I went... I just wanted to see you. Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your day off." You try to take your hands away but he won't let you.

"You didn't. I'm glad you're here." He pulls you in for a hug, and it's your turn to wrap your arms around his waist. "I wish you would've notified me... I'd give you the other half of my ramyun, you know?"

You let out a soft giggle, the way you only did when your walls are down - when you're with him. "Missed opportunity."

Minghao hums and presses a kiss to the side of your neck. It's chaste. Sweet. And you feel a wave of the domesticity you felt before. Your hands cling tighter to his shirt as he starts rubbing your back in slow circles.

"Come to bed with me?" he asks, as if there's any other answer than yes.

You hum and nod against his chest. While you want to stay like this forever, Minghao seems eager to go back to bed. He loosens his arms around you, bringing one hand to the small of your back to lead you to his bedroom. And it's all worth it when you're laying down in his bed, newly showered and in the comfy pajamas he bought for you, as his arms are wrapped around you once again. To think that your friends had made fun of you for wanting to leave the party early to go back to "your old man", when this is the most blissful you've been all day.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Let's talk about how BingQiu grieve each other

Shen Qingqiu knew Luo Binghe was not dead, even if life in the Abyss could be arguably considered worse than death - yet he still erected a small grave for the gentleness and innocence Luo Binghe lost. He knew Luo Binghe was alive and waited for him to return, well aware that he would do so regardless of the hell he endured down in the demon realm. Yes, he wouldn't be the same when he emerged - now overpowered, angry, resentful - but breathing. Alive. Still here.

Yet Shen Qingqiu still found it hard to eat, sometimes called a name that didn't have an answer, missed a weight at his side that would never be there anymore the same it used to, acted so different everybody else noticed it.

Luo Binghe didn't know that Shen Qingqiu would return, but he obstinately refused to think he was dead. Kept his body in perfect condition, talked to it, cooked for it, held it and cried, fought bloody battles to keep it. Luo Binghe didn't want to accept his shizun was gone and treated his corpse as if it was dormant, rather than dead.

Luo Binghe grieved hoping Shen Qingqiu would somehow return.

Shen Qingqiu grieved knowing Luo Binghe would never return the same.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

I am a slut for Hurt/comfort first “I love you” 🥺🫶🏼

Hope you’re having a fantastic day 🥰

Sorry this took FOREVER, but I hope you like it!

(I’ll post on AO3 after I've had some sleep)

----

"You could always come along. Half naked men are relevant to your interests these days." Eddie teased and Buck rolled his eyes.

"There is only one man I'm interested in, and I prefer him completely naked." he grinned at Tommy who leaned over the table to kiss him.

"Likewise."

"Can someone please remind me why I'm friends with you two again?" Eddie complained.

The three of them were sat at Buck's kitchen table, grabbing a bite to eat together before Eddie and Tommy were going to another fight in Vegas.

"I saved your life." Buck reminded him around a bite of food.

"I've saved your life." Eddie shot back.

"Free babysitting."

"Well with Chris still in El Paso, I don't think I'm going to be asking for your services in that department any time soon. If ever again..."

"Chris will come around." Tommy started sincerely, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And I get you free tickets to fights and free helicopter flights to exclusive fights in Vegas and back. Which you could be more grateful for."

"I'm beginning to wonder if that means getting all the details on your sex life is really worth it."

"Hey, you don't have to come. I can always go with Evan and get my buddy to set us up with a nice hotel room on the strip." Tommy said turning to Buck. "The two of us, a king size bed, maybe a jacuzzi... Not leaving the room for an entire weekend..."

"And then you'll complain about about having missed the fight of the century when we get back." Buck reminded him but happily let Tommy kiss him.

"There will be other fights. A weekend in Vegas with you sounds pretty good. We could hit up the casinos. I'm pretty good at poker."

"I beat you the other day." Buck smirked.

"That was intentional." Tommy said with a wink.

"Why would you let him win?" Eddie asked, downing the last of his beer. "Why would you play with him in the first place? Mister over competitive."

"Hey!" Buck protested while Tommy just shrugged.

"I had my reasons."

Eddie narrowed his eyes.

"This is another sex thing, isn't it?" he held up his hands. "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Tommy laughed and finished the last of his food.

"We should get going soon. We need to still drive over to Harbor from here."

Eddie nodded.

"But no more details about your sex life or you can go alone."

"Noted." Tommy said, getting up and putting their dirty dishes in the sink. "Don't bother with those ok? We can do them together tomorrow." he told Buck.

"Sure. You coming back here after then?"

Tommy smiled.

"If you want me to."

Buck stood up and wrapped his arms around Tommy's neck.

"I want you to. I don't care how late it gets, I want you here. And you better wake me up if I'm asleep."

"I'm not making any promises in that department. But I'll promise I'll be there when you wake up. Deal?"

Buck pretended to think it over.

"I guess I can live with that." he joked and the two of them shared another kiss, getting lost in the moment until Eddie loudly cleared his throat.

"Come on Tomás, we have a flight to catch."

Tommy reluctantly stepped out of Buck's embrace.

"The flight is me." he glanced at his watch. "But yeah we should get going." he shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his phone and keys, and with one more quick kiss and a promise to see Buck later, he followed Eddie out the door.

Buck sighed.

As much as he liked the fact that his boyfriend and best friend got on so well, he wouldn't have exactly hated it to spend his night off with said boyfriend instead of watching TV on his own.

He'd only known Tommy for a couple of months but it was getting harder and harder to remember what his life was like without him in it. He didn't particularly want to either.

Just thinking about Tommy made him smile like a teenager with a crush, but lately he was starting to feel like this thing between them was getting more serious. A deeper connection. Not just sex or romantic dates but also being content to just exist in each other's space.

Like spending the night watching the latest movie Tommy insisted he had to watch or trying out a new recipe with Tommy sitting at his kitchen table, keeping him company and being his guinea pig.

It felt a lot like love.

He was pretty sure Tommy felt the same, even if they hadn't actually said it yet.

He really wanted to though, but he was still waiting for that perfect moment. Maybe he'd tell him when they woke up together in the morning.

He smiled to himself as he scrolled through his DVR to find the documentary on bees he'd recorded earlier that week and got comfortable on the sofa as he hit play.

The documentary was interesting enough but still his mind kept wandering. He tried to remember the names of the guys fighting so he could check the score, when his phone suddenly rang in his hand.

He frowned at the screen, not recognising the number. He debated letting it go to voicemail but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Evan Buckley?"

"Yes, this is Evan Buckley... Who is this?"

"My name is Laura Greenwood, I'm a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre, and I'm calling you on behalf of Edmundo Diaz. I have you listed as his emergency contact, is that correct?"

"Yes, yes that is correct. What's going on? Is Eddie in hospital?"

"Mister Diaz has just been brought in following a car accident."

"A what?! Is he ok?"

"His injuries are non life threatening as far as I've been told." the nurse told him in a practised calm voice. "Are you able to come to the hospital?"

"Uh yes, yes I'm on my way." Buck told her, rushing around his loft to grab his stuff and put his shoes on. "Wait... Was there anyone else brought in with him? Is there a Thomas Kinard with him? Was he admitted too?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that sir. When you get here you can go straight to the ER and they'll take you to see mister Diaz. Perhaps he will be able to tell you more about any other passengers involved in the accident."

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Eddie was in a car accident... but he'd been in a car with Tommy. They'd taken his truck. So what did that mean for Tommy? Had someone crashed into them? Was Tommy alright? Was he even still alive?

He all but threw his Jeep in the first available parking space he came across, and only just remembered to take the keys out of the ignition and lock it.

The hospital was outside the 118's jurisdiction, so he wasn't as familiar with it as some of the others in the city, but he found the ER with ease after making himself follow the signs.

"But was there a Thomas Kinard brought in too?" he tried with the nurse who was taking him to see Eddie.

"Are you next of kin?"

"He's my boyfriend."

The nurse nodded.

"And are you his emergency contact as well? Or listed as next of kin anywhere?"

"I... I'm... No... We've only been together a couple of months... we haven't had that conversation yet."

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and Buck knew what she was about to say.

"I'm very sorry, but I can't give you any information if you're not next of kin."

"Right... yeah... I understand..."

"If you know who his emergency contact is, they can update you... or tell us it's ok to tell you."

"C-can... I know you're not allowed to give me any details but... is he here? Is he alive?" Buck tried. "Please. I just need to know he's alive."

The nurse looked at him for a minute, weighing her options, then started typing on a tablet.

"Kinard? K-I-N-A-R-D?"

"That's right."

"He's here." She confirmed. "He's alive. They're working on him. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry." She started walking again, and Buck had to jog a few steps to catch up with her when his brain had managed to process the information she'd given him.

The nurse pulled open a curtain around a bed and Eddie looked up from the magazine he was flicking through. He looked a little banged up but mostly in one piece.

"Mister Diaz, there's someone here to see you." she stepped aside and Buck made himself walk up to the bed and greet his best friend.

"What happened?" he asked after the nurse had left them to it.

"We got t-boned by some drunk idiot in an expensive sports car." Eddie told him. "Tommy got the worst of it. Have you seen him yet? I figured he'd be higher on your list of priorities."

Buck bit his lip. He was happy to see his best friend was ok, but he couldn't help but worry about his boyfriend.

"They won't let me see him. I'm not family, I'm not his emergency contact, I'm nothing. They called me because of you... All that nurse told me is that he's alive."

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look.

"Do you know who his emergency contact is? Does he have family in LA? Siblings?"

"He was born in LA. His dad still lives in the house he grew up in... But they hate each other."

"Ok so not his dad then."

Buck shook his head.

"He also has a brother but I don't even know his name." he rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't even know the name of my boyfriend's brother." he said dejected. "What if he dies? I don't know his family, I've only met a few of his work friends at Harbor, and I don't know any of his friends outside of work. Nobody would even let me know when the funeral is. I don't even know if he would want a funeral. I barely know my own boyfriend!"

He was spiralling and well on his way to a panic attack.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Eddie did his best to snap him out of it by squeezing his shoulder and making him look at him. "Tommy is not going to die ok? He's the one that called 911 after the accident. He had a head wound and they had to cut him out of the car because his leg got pinned. But he was bitching about his truck getting ruined and how it would take him ages to get it back in working order so he was definitely conscious when they got him out. "

Buck made himself take a few deep breaths to compose himself. Tommy worrying about his car was good. That meant he was awake and conscious enough to know what was happening.

"What kind of head wound? Was it bad?"

"Not as bad as it could have been." Eddie told him after a beat and Buck knew he was choosing his words carefully so he wouldn't freak him out. A move straight from the LAFD handbook.

"What does that even mean? There was no brain matter on the airbag?"

Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics.

"The idiot hit Tommy's side pretty hard. Almost flipped us over. We got knocked around the car pretty bad and he hit his head on... something. I don't know, it all happened really fast."

Buck nodded and just about managed to stop himself from shaking Eddie to give him more details.

"I think I passed out for a few minutes... because the next thing I remember is Tommy asking for my phone, well... more like demanding, because he couldn't find his." Eddie continued, scrunching up his face trying to remember more details. "I think he used my phone to call 911... but I don't know what happened to it." He looked around. "They haven't given me my stuff yet."

"I'll go find someone..." Buck moved to stand up but Eddie stopped him.

"The phone can wait. We need to figure out what we're going to do about Tommy."

"What do you mean what we're going to do about Tommy? I'm not family, they won't let me see him."

"I know... but maybe we can figure out a way around that. That nurse from before likes me... maybe if I flirt with her a little she'll tell me what room he's in? Or how he's doing?"

"Just how hard did you hit your head in the crash? I think you have a concussion. That's never going to work."

"Hey, I'm charming and sexy! I'm hot!"

"I've seen you puking up your guts after bad sushi and hungover and praying in Spanish on my bathroom floor after you decided to mix beer and tequila. You are neither charming or sexy."

"Well you try it then! Or maybe one of the male nurses will be easier to persuade."

"I'm not going to flirt with a guy to get info on my boyfriend!" Buck said exasperated and stood up. "I'm just going to calmly talk to the nurses again and explain the situation... maybe they can tell me who his emergency contact is. Maybe it's his brother and I can introduce myself and he can tell me how Tommy is doing."

Eddie mumbled something under his breath but Buck ignored him and went in search for someone who could tell him more about Tommy.

He was almost at the nurses station when he heard a familiar name.

"I'm here for Thomas Kinard. I got a call he was in an accident."

"Are you family?"

"I might as well be." Buck had a clear view of the man now but he didn't recognise him. "I'm his emergency contact. You called me."

"Name?"

"Sal Deluca. Salvatore."

The nurse typed something on her computer.

"He was in a car accident. Suspected fractured pelvis, head laceration, suspected broken ribs and open tibia fracture, as well as suspected ruptured spleen. He's in surgery now." She told the man. "You can take a seat here and someone will come update you when they can."

The man looked like he wanted to argue with the nurse but apparently decided it wasn't worth it and just sat down on a nearby chair and took his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, it's me." he paused to listen. "No I haven't seen him yet. He's in surgery. Pretty banged up. He's gonna need help when he gets out. We can't let him go back to his place on his own." Another pause. "I don't know, Gina." A slight irritation in his voice. "We'll figure it out when the time comes." another pause and a sigh. "Yeah. I'll call you when I know more. Yeah. Love you too. Bye."

Buck watched him put his phone away and sit back in the chair. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked up to the man.

"Hi... uhm... you don't know me but...-"

"Look, man, let me stop you there. If you're the one that hit my buddy and want to clear your conscience now or something, don't bother, I'm not interested. He'll probably forgive you when he's awake, because he's an idiot like that, but don't come to me with that shit."

"What? No. Tha-that's not... I'm Evan Buckley. Tommy is my boyfriend."

The man sat up.

"You're Evan?"

"Yes... Has Tommy mentioned me?"

"Yeah. Hasn't stopped talking about you for the past few months. I feel like I know you better than my own wife by now."

"Oh... I uh... h-he hasn't told me a-about you..." Buck stammered.

"Of course not." The man rolled his eyes. "We've been friends for over 20 years, he's my both daughters' godfather, but he won't tell his new boyfriend about me." he continued sarcastically. "I guess he just wanted to make sure you're not an asshole like the last idiot he dated. Andrew really fucked him up."

"Y-yeah..." Buck agreed, not wanting to let on he didn't have a clue who Andrew was.

The man stood up and offered Buck his hand.

"I'm Sal. Were you in there with him?"

"No, my best friend was. They were going to Vegas to watch a fight." Buck explained and filled him in on the details.

Sal turned out to be easy enough to talk to once he'd decided Buck was alright, and the two of them talked about Tommy, the job, the 118, and the grudge Sal still held against Bobby.

After some time, a tired looking doctor came to update them on Tommy's condition and a nurse took them up to the floor so they could see him.

"One visitor at a time." she warned them.

"You go first." Buck told Sal who shook his head and pushed him towards the door.

"He's not going to want to see me, trust me. You go sit with him, I'll go update my wife."

Buck wanted to protest but Sal was already walking away and tapping his phone screen. He looked through the little window in the door and saw Tommy, looking way too small and frail for a man his size.

His leg was in a cast and there were various bandages around his head and body. He glanced at the monitor beside the bed and watched the lines move with Tommy's heartbeat before gently opening the door and going in.

He grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and sat down as close to the bed he could get. He watched Tommy's chest rise and fall with each breath and carefully took his hand in his.

"Hey... You scared the shit out of me..." he said softly. "I got the call about Eddie and I jumped in my car right away... And Eddie's fine, he'll be alright... But they wouldn't tell me anything about you. I didn't even know if you were alive." He brought Tommy's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. "When you get out of here, we need to talk." he said and winced at how it sounded. "Not... not like that. I'm not breaking up with you. I just... our jobs are dangerous you know. And next time you get injured on the job... or just... anything happens to you... I want to know what happened. I want to be able to come see you without Eddie thinking he can flirt with a nurse and convince her to let me." He laughed a little. "You know that would never have worked."

The next few hours went by in a blur. Tommy woke up a few times but was way too out of it to have anything resembling a conversation, Sal dipped in and out of the room, and even Eddie had come by to check on Tommy.

The hours turned into days, and the days turned into a week. Tommy's condition had improved enough for him to be moved onto a regular ward and for the dose of the heavy painkillers to be lowered so he was awake for longer periods of time and more aware of what was happening around him.

And also getting more and more annoyed by the fact he couldn't move around as freely as he'd like, practically begging the nurses to get him a pair of crutches even if he was nowhere near well enough for that.

"Hey there sleeping beauty, welcome back to the land of the living. If you wanted to see me that badly, you could have just picked up the phone, you know? You didn't have to crash your car." Sal joked when he walked back into Tommy's room after updating his wife and checking in at work on day 8.

"You know me, always had a flair for the dramatic." Tommy replied and gave him a tired smile. "How are the girls? Evan said you went to call Gina."

"They're fine. Torey wants to come see her uncle T but we talked her down to facetime when you're feeling better."

"Yeah... when these bruises clear up... and the stitches come out. Or can be covered up somehow. I don't want to scare her." Tommy said, gesturing to his head. He was looking a whole lot better than when he'd first been brought in but the bruises were only just starting to fade.

"She's seen you first thing in the morning before you've had your coffee, she can handle a couple of bruises."

Buck sat back and let the two of them talk. He'd gotten to know Sal a little over the past week or so and he liked the guy. Even if he was still kind of intimidated by him.

But it was clear he cared about Tommy and Buck was happy Tommy had a best friend like him. Someone who would drop everything to be there for him. Someone who would always have his back.

Though it was also frustrating that between Sal, the hospital staff, Tommy's crew from Harbor, and various members of the 118, Buck had barely had a moment alone with him.

And he didn't need an audience for what he wanted to tell him.

"I promised Torey I'd take her up to see the lights."

"So save it for her next birthday." Sal argued and Buck realised he'd zoned out and didn't have a clue what they were talking about. "Or wait until she turns 21 and take her to Vegas."

"Oh sure. 'happy birthday sweetheart, you'll get your present in 11 years' I'm sure she'll understand." Tommy said sarcastically and Sal laughed.

"You know she'll remember. And then Bella will want to go too when she turns 21. So you better make sure you get back in that chopper so you can take my girls to Vegas when they're old enough."

Tommy groaned.

"When Isabella is 21, I'll be..." he shook his head. "I don't want to think about that."

Sal sat back in his chair.

"They grow up way too fast." he settled on. "Feels like only yesterday that she couldn't even wrap her little hand all the way around my finger, and now she's talking about inviting boys to her birthday party."

Buck did his best to focus on the conversation, even if he didn't know Sal's family, but he kept zoning out and his eyelids were getting heavy. He hadn't exactly had a good night's sleep at Tommy's bedside, and now the worst seemed to be behind them, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him.

"Evan." someone squeezed his hand. "Evan, hey, wake up."

"Wha-what?" he blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up straighter. "I'm here, I'm awake. I'm here. Are you ok?" he searched Tommy's face for any sign of discomfort or even pain."

"I'm ok. But you just fell asleep sitting up. Why don't you go home to get some rest. in an actual bed."

Buck frowned.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm fine. I just... closed my eyes for a second. I'm fine now, I promise."

"You sound like my daughter when she doesn't want to go to bed." Sal cut in. "She's 8. And I usually pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed anyway. So don't try me, Buckley."

Tommy laughed a little but then turned serious.

"Evan, you're exhausted. Why don't you call Howie to take you home. Just for a couple of hours." he pleaded. "I've got Sal here to keep me company, and all these wires stuck to me so they can make sure I'm alright... I'm ok now, I promise. It's your turn to rest now."

"I'm fine." Buck insisted. "I'll get a coffee from the machine later. I'm fine."

"Evan..."

"Tommy, I love you, but please stop trying to get me to leave. I'm not leaving until you are." Buck told him, and brushed a kiss over Tommy's knuckles to emphasise his point.

"Ev... I... You... Did you... mean... that...?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Not that... the... other thing..."

"The other thing?" Buck mumbled and tried to replay the last part of their conversation in his mind. Tommy, I love you. "Oh... t-that... I..."

"It's ok. You don't have to explain. You're exhausted, I get it. It's fine." Tommy rambled.

"No, I... I... did.. do... mean it. I just... didn't... realise?"

"I'm going to... go buy some cigarettes." Sal said and got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"You don't smoke." Tommy pointed out.

"I'll start." Sal replied and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two men alone.

"Are you cold? Do you want me to fluff up your pillow? Do you want some water? Do you want me to go so you can sleep?" Buck rambled, fussing with Tommy's blanket.

"Evan... tell me... did you mean it? It's fine if you didn't. I can handle it. Just tell me. It's alright. We're just having fun, right? You didn't sign up for all of this. It's fine. You can just go. I'll call you when I'm better. Maybe we can go to that club you found online the other day. I mean, it's gonna be a while before I can dance again but... -"

"Tommy!" Buck interrupted. "Shut up. Please." he carefully sat down on the bed next to Tommy's hip and put his hand on his uninjured leg. "I did mean it. I just... didn't mean to just blurt it out like that. I wanted to make it romantic. Maybe a candlelit meal at home. Some music playing in the background, maybe a nice glass of wine... and then I'd take your hand..." he paused to do just that. "And I'd look into your eyes. And I'd tell you that these past few months have been amazing, That you have been amazing. That you make me happier than I ever thought I could be." he carefully leaned in to press a kiss to Tommy's lips. "And then I'd tell you I love you. I love you so much. And then in a perfect world, you'd say it back and we'd have the best night of our lives."

Tommy smiled.

"That sounds amazing. And I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's kind of scary... I've never felt this way about anyone before... and definitely not this quickly... but yeah, yes I do love you Evan."

Buck leaned in for another kiss.

"I really wish we could do more right now. I wish I could hold you." he gently ran his hand up and down Tommy's good arm.

"I know... Me too."

"When you get out of here, I'm going to cook for you. All of your favourite foods. I even found a recipe for spumoni online and I'm going to make it for you." Buck promised. "It probably won't be as good as your grandma's, though, but I’ll settle for second place." he joked.

"I'm sure I'll love it. Because I love you."

"I love you too." Buck replied. "And I could really get used to hearing you say that."

"Good thing I'm planning on saying it a lot then."

[writingwisterias]

Hey hey!!

You can ignore this if you aren't comfortable but I was wondering if you have any ideas for how different eras Leon would react or handle drunk gf? Smth like been out with the girlies or asking him for a ride home? Go crazy!

Low key started thinking about it after a minor drunken injury weeks ago (all good!)

Hi Anon!

I'm sorry this late, I hope you are okay lmao! We have all been there at some point 👀...I've never fallen down some stairs or whatever

Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Fluff, Drunk!Reader,

Fem!Reader

RE2:

You went to a house party, Leon didn't feel like going though so he stayed behind

He trusted you not to do anything stupid and find your own way back.

That was until he got a call from you that you had been left by your friends and needed him to come and pick you up

He left immediately, pulling up to the location in his jeep with a smile at your state

Had to catch you as he helped you into the car as you tripped on the pavement

The entire ride you are chatting to him about all the gossip. He doesn't care who kissed who that night. Your smile and adorable giggles made his night

Caved when you asked for fast food - with the idea it will sober you up a little bit at least.

RE4R:

I feel like he would like a quieter life but when he meets you and you drag him around everywhere.

He doesn't complain he just goes with the flow, he'll have a few drinks etc to make the time more bearable but never as much as you.

It's cute though, how you'll go out onto the dance floor with a bunch of your friends all stumbling about together

Then you will stumble back over to him, placing a kiss that tasted like whatever you were drinking. A hug that was more you leaning on him than an actual hug

He never prompted you to come back, he was content observing you from the bar, his ass going numb from the bar stool.

When it is time to go home, he's dragging you to a cab. Your leaning on him chattering about whatever was on your mind

Thoughts going by so fast he can barely keep up with you. Changing topics like every 5 seconds

Infinite Darkness:

Encourages you to drink more, he's the type that's willing to be the sober one if he needs to be or at least only limiting himself to a few drinks to make sure you get back safely

He has to drag you out the bar towards the end of the night, your goodbye with the girls is dragging on far too long

The walk back is painful, your stumbling everywhere and so slow to the point he just beds his back and braces his knees

You're hard to carry on his back only because you find it so funny but eventually you pass out

When you do you are like dead weight but don't worry he can take it, he's fought things that are heavier than you

Damnation:

He's drunk with you lets be honest, you are both as bad as each other

Prefers to stay at home and drink so you will too

If you host a girls night he'll happily leave the room and sit in your bedroom so you have the space

The girls don't mind him being there they understand you barely see each other so they are fine with him joining in

When he does, he'll suggest things like board games or card games

For Christmas he'll get you loads of drinking games to play either together or with your friends

Finds it funny when you get the couple drinking games

RE6:

You woke him up from sleeping on the sofa when you called him to pick you up

He's fighting you for an answer as to where you are.

Eventually he just drives to the usual bars not hanging up of course

Finds you just aimlessly wandering down the streets. Pulls over and has to gently guide you into the car

Your moaning about how you have your boyfriend on the phone and he's coming to get you until you realize it's him

He'll give you his jacket in the car so you stay warm, after all the outfit your wearing wouldn't have kept you warm

Loves the gossip you collect and will let you ramble about. There's just something distracting about who kissed who compared to his usual thoughts or conversations with his friends

Vendetta:

The guy would be drunk with you, out and about with your friends whatever. He's with you

And considering he's drank a lot in the film before he starts doing anything I would say he's the type of drunk that you can't actually tell he is until you see the drink

So he's more helpful than you in going home

He's dragging you down the street, pulling you into his side so you stay close

If you fall over he's just sighing and laughing at you

It's almost like two toddlers walking down a street together, they don't know where they are going or how to get there but they do eventually

If you ask for his jacket he'll give it to you but he won't just do it on his own will. He's not really thinking straight

Death Island:

He's smart enough to turn on your phone location before you go out so when you do call him, he's there like instantly

He will sit you down on the bathroom counter and force you to tell him what your skin care routine is as he knows you'll be upset you didn't do it

Will eventually get you to write a step by step process and pin it to his bathroom mirror so he knows in advance

Probably just throws on one of his t shirts instead of finding your own clothes

Listens to your drunken talks until eventually you fall asleep cuddles into him

[astheskycries]

Twisted Games- Meetings

Growing up with a hitman for a father, Andy Barber has never wanted to go near the mafia and used the money from the family to go to law school. When Steve Rogers offered him help after a hit on his family, he was more than happy to ensure no more unnecessary hits were made. As long as everyone is at arms’ length, he can keep them safe.

I want to take the time to give a MASSIVE shout out to @stargazingfangirl18 , who not only read this over for me but also has listened to me ramble and brainstorm over this AU and gave me amazing advice. This series wouldn't exist without her ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! If your name is not tagged it means I physically can't tag you, but I will be redoing my Tags soon so please keep an eye out for that!

Masterlist Buy Me a Coffee

The sun sparkles over the water of the Harbor, starting to set over the horizon as I review the documents for the umpteenth time. Though the hours are long, it’s been well worth the investment. Taking out money from a waitressing job was a huge risk, especially for someone who can’t afford college or a car that ran without being patchworked together, but somehow I turned a small business worked in the little time between jobs into a booming construction company, expanding into design and even buying out several companies in the greater Boston area.

“Ma’am? Your appointment is here.”

Speaking of.

I relax back a bit as I watch the lawyer slip inside, my assistant nodding once before shutting the door behind her. In other circumstances he would be a welcome distraction- short but soft brown hair styled up, a full beard with just the slight hints of grey, and the most beautiful baby blues I’ve ever seen. Tall and well-built, it’s no wonder Andy Barber has the reputation he does.

“Good Afternoon,” He greets smoothly, relaxing in his chair as he grabs his file folder. “I’m assuming you’ve reviewed everything?”

“Of course,” I lock the computer and move to my own paper copy, lazily opening it with a finger. “You’re nothing if not thorough, Mr. Barber.”

He hums, a slight smirk on his lips. “Well, it’s part of the job. Mr. Rogers wanted to make sure everything was covered.”

Yes. That.

“I saw that,” I flip through to a specific section, humming once. “Unfortunately, I’m still not interested in selling.”

Mr. Barber raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully. “Mr. Rogers has offered an unusually high payout for this company. If it’s stability you’re concerned about, he’s clearly stated money is no object.”

“It’s no object for me either, the answer is no.” I let the file close with a little smack, relaxing against my chair. “Will that be all?”

Mr. Barber shifts to lean closer, toying with a pen. “On a personal level, I think you may want to reconsider. Mr. Rogers has hired me for all of his business dealings; I know how he works. He’ll wait as long as it takes to acquire the company.”

I mirror his movements, leaning closer and crossing my hands on the desk. “I’ve done my own research, Mr. Barber. I’m fully confident that I will not be signing any deal that hands my company over to him.”

He makes a noise, putting away the file and slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll inform Mr. Rogers of your response. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again shortly.”

I hum, watching him until the door shuts before sagging against the chair with a breath, glancing over at the clock and seeing how late it is. I turn to look out at the skyline again, biting my lips as I let my mind wander.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can plan for the next one.

…

“I assume it didn’t go as planned?” Steve muses, pouring a glass of bourbon as he watches Andy pace the floor of his private office. Though the leader of the group, the blonde looks innocent, almost angelic with his bright blue eyes and clean shaven appearance. He's a walking Greek god, a perfect covering for the horns holding up the halo.

“She turned the offer down. Again.” Andy fumes loosening his tie as he continues to pace, flipping through the file for the hundredth time.

“Is this the third time? Or second?” Steve leans against his desk, eyebrows raised as he looks over his drink, downing it in one swig.

“Third offer. Second refusal- no one ever refuses your deals.” Andy turns, unamused by Steve’s expression. “I even warned her you wanted to continue negotiations. She said money wasn’t an object and sent me packing.” He sighs, accepting the new glass Steve offers. “I told her I’d let you know and be in touch.”

Steve smirks, hiding it behind another drink. “See if you can find what she wants, come up with an agreement. Take her to one of our best restaurants.” He lets his shoulders relax, taking a moment to observe how ruffled the lawyer is. “I have to admit, this is refreshing.”

“Fuck off,” Andy mutters, finishing the glass. “I’ll get to work tomorrow.”

Steve hums, taking a slow drink. “I mean it. I haven’t seen you this animated in a while.”

Andy hums, rolling the ice in his glass. “I can’t get a read on her. It’s frustrating, you know how long I've worked on our offers being airtight? We’re more than generous when we buy out.”

“Well, it’s good for you. Something different.” Steve takes his friends’ empty glass, setting them aside. “I trust you to handle it. I’m not sparing any expenses, this would give us control over the other side of town. More leverage.”

Andy nods, glancing at his watch. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Andy?” Steve waits for the man to pause and look back, hand still on the handle. “Take her to that high rise restaurant.”

“I’m not taking her on a date.” Andy swiftly leaves, leaving a new voice to laugh from their place lounged on the sofa.

“You’re setting up the hard ass?” Lloyd muses, smirking over his drink as his rings gently tap against the glass. His loafers are shining in the light as he crosses his ankles, thick mustache doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You really think this is a good idea?”

Steve hums, moving back to his seat. “You’re complaining?”

“Fuck no.” Lloyd grins, continuing to spin his knife in his fingers, enjoying the way it glints from the lamp light. “Just determines whether I plant those cameras in his office.”

“No.” Steve focuses on his computer. “But send him my black card. I’ll cover his ‘dinner’.”

Tags: @janeyboo @mylittlefandomfanfictions @palaiasaurus64 @averyrogers83 @guera31 @soulmates8 @coffeebooksandfandom @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @pegasusdragontiger @mizzzpink @onetwo3000 @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars @sleepylunarwolf @wheresmyplums @smoothdogsgirl @marvelouslyme96 @esoltis280 @jtargaryen18 @k-evans-writes @rainbowkisses31 @buchanansebba @katiew1973 @patzammit @time-for-a-lullaby @openup-yourmind

Twisted Games: @hangmanscoming

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Can you please do young hayden coming home to you after meeting some "fans" but lots of them just gave him hate (Since he got hate when he was acting in SW) and he just cries in your arms needing to be comforted and assured.

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN stepped into the apartment quietly, clearly not wanting you to notice him. His steps were slow, feet barely lifting from the floor, just gliding against the wooden panels. Yet, what he didn't know was that you were curled on the couch, already glancing up at him from your book. Your eyes noticed the slouched set of his shoulders and the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, as if not knowing what to do to them filly.

He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Hayden?" you called gently, setting your book aside.

He didn't answer right away, and you already wanted to stand up from the soft cushion, but he was faster, getting on the couch you were on, using your chest as his personal space to lay down. His cheek squished against your chest, one hand wrapping around your waist and the other falling by his side

"Hey," you mumbled softly, hands coming up to his tousled curls "What happened?"

His lip trembled, and he tried to shake his head, but the moment your hand touched his hair, he broke. A sharp, shuddering breath escaped him as he pulled you into a desperate hug, burying his face in your cleavage.

"I--" His voice cracked. "Just a bad day."

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, one hand gently stroking the back of his head, twirling the curl around your finger. "What was bad, baby? Tell me."

He stayed quiet for a moment, breathing shaky. "The event," he mumbled "Some of them... they just wouldn't stop. Kept saying shit about me, about my acting, about the movies, straight to my fucking face. It was... loud. And mean. Really mean."

Your heart squeezed painfully. "Oh, Hayden."

"I tried to ignore it," he went on, voice muffled against your skin. "But it was just... I don't know. It felt like they weren't there to meet me. They were there to tear me apart. It was so fucking exhausting."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. You squished his cheeks in your palms, his eyes glassy and too full of doubt. "You listen to me now," you said firmly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "None of that shit matters. Not a word of it. They don't know you, Hay. They don't know how hard you work, how much you care, how... amazing you are."

His brows pulled together, and he let out a shaky laugh. "You have to say that. You're biased."

"I'm not biased," tone serious. "I'm honest. You're talented as hell, and anyone who says otherwise is just... I don't know, bitter or jealous or a miserable asshole. Take your pick."

A weak smile tugged at his lips. "You think I'm talented, huh?"

"I know you're talented," you corrected, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "And I know you're also way too good to let a bunch of jerks get to you. They don't deserve you."

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. "Why does it feel so heavy, though? Like... like they're right, and I'm just..." He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Hey," you said softly, fingers sliding back into his hair. "They're not right. Not even close. You're incredible, Hayden. And if you ever doubt that, I'll remind you. Every damn day if I have to."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[homosexual-canine]

Been thinking about it for a while, but chosen and victim are like, opposites they both "grew up" in the same situation but one had powers and the other didn't and this made all the difference, victim was a powerless victim that couldn't fight back and so he learnt to run instead of fight and chosen could fight back, and so he did, so one learnt to plan and hide while the other learnt to fight and destroy and this reflects how they both are when they escape, vitcim is skiddish but helpful, building things for people, while chosen is argessive and destructive and destroys things. Now that is not all because we got mitsi and dark to talk about because they both played a similar role just with mitsi being a partner and dark being a brother, vitcim got mitsi, soft caring, she made him comfortable enough for him to grow and be who he wants to be and he suffers and degrades in her absence. Chosen got dark, our favorite war criminal!!! Dark actually helped chosen in a werid way, by being extreme, chosen is fine going and destroying yahoo answers with his bro, angry birds? Well they are just birds, stick page, those are sticks like him, he is unsure about his rage fueled rampage now, new grounds? Near his limit, he uses dark to see what his path is and fights it like always and with dark out of the picture, he cleans up and improves. Victim and chosen are both the same but different because one could fight alan and the other couldn't

Onto the other hollows

Dark, he is just evil, born to destroy, and by god he is going to, now i see dark and chosen's relationship as unintentionally manipulative. Let me explain, i think dark was using chosen's rage and power subconsciously, dark seems to care for his brother but subconsciously there is a voice he wouldn't ever deny that tells him to destroy and that goal mattered to him more subconsciously then chosen did and he had what was coming for him.

Now, second is really the golden child, a mix of the past 3, creative and helpful like victim, strong like chosen, favored by alan like dark was, it started out rough with a fight but, that didn't matter because the fight is a spec in his and alans relationship, he has friends, a good relationship with his creator, games to play, outlits for his creativity, he got everything the other 3 needed but never got from alan, and i think all 3 of them could have been like second if alan was more kind.

[khaopybara]

I think Kant would have gotten far less criticism or hatred if KantBison were not being shoved into our throat. Like, clearly the showmakers want us to root for KB, everyone from Style to Cop Chris saying how Kant has fallen for Bison yada yada but at the same time Kant casually talks about Bison, the supposed love of his life, getting shot dead or spending his entire life in prison....without any sign of pain in his voice or face...like he's talking about mildly uncomfy weather.

This is clearly a narrative problem but it does make viewers frustrated and Kant's character has to bear the brunt of this narrative folly. I am very sure if the narrative made it clear from the start that KB are not, under any condition ending up together, the situation would have been different....but of course gmmtv has to sell their cp (by which I mean cp merch and stuff). The showmakers already have a pair (FadelStyle) that are hitting all the right spots for how a romantic pair should be and they can be easily shown to be having a happily ever after. Ideally they should have kept KantBison 'lovers to enemies' actually ending up as enemies...but well....cp 😒

i'll start this by saying this is the one and only ask with hate for kant/kantbison that i will answer because from your oh so many words, i can already tell you fit into the exact category of people who already made up your mind about the character and nothing i say will change your perception. but bc i'm not feeling like being the bigger person, sure, you wanna talk about this, let's talk about this.

first of all, i wanna talk about your apparent hatred for cps (or maybe it's just fk, we never know) and gmmtv's system, and you know, that's so funny because that's, and i know it'll shock you, their thing😯. so maybe if you didn't want to see that, you shouldn't have started watching the show, even after knowing that the two couples would end up together in the end because guess what, this was advertised as a romcom. and we what do we get with romcoms? exactly, happy endings. a travesty.

i find it so funny when people say fadelstyle are hitting all the spots for a romantic pairing, because that's what's supposed to be (again, a romcom), they are the more traditional romantic storyline (or as traditional as you can get with a killer and a guy who only started hitting on him and continued to do so because he wanted a car) so they are supposed to be hitting those spots. it's their storyline.

see, kantbison hooked up that very first night they met, clear attraction, kant was besotted by his one night stand and was calling him a ghost because bison up and ran before they could wake up together. their first interaction together and it had nothing to do with the police, or lying or manipulating, so maybe it's not a narrative problem that kantbison are "being shoved down our throats" maybe it's just a you problem if you didn't notice what they were being set up to.

and many people have talked about this already, and if you cared to read either liz's or lauren's meta about kant, you wouldn't have come to my inbox complaining about kant not being expressive when he clearly can't let himself feel the things he wants because his priority will always be his brother (just like fadel will prioritize bison always) in contrast to style who doesn't have to carry the responsibility of raising and caring for a younger brother on his shoulders.

and darling, if you started this show thinking at any point, from the trailers, pilot or official, promotional photos, osts, novel, press, anything, that kantbison would not be a thing, again, it's not on them, it's on you and your poor observation skills. there are plenty of people way more qualified than me to talk about this and how kant actually cares for bison, and how he's torn between his heart and his brain, but you don't really care, so why bother.

[bunni-v1]

sunday x m reader who wont shut up while hes working so he makes reader cockwarm him to shut him up

Cockwarming With Sunday

🍓Dom Sunday makes my skin crawl. Anyway, I went for a softer take than what you wanted, sorry lol. Even when Sunday tops I can't see him as all that mean, at least, not in the way this was worded lol. Anyway, I'm very well Sunday's biggest hater (I love him more than life itself), so I hope you enjoy this. I want him dead.

Tw: NSFW; Implied power dynamics; Mean(?) Sunday; Grammar Errors; ts kinda ass

Info: Dom!Sunday x M!Reader (it's hard to tell lol); Cockwarming; pre ae sunday; Nsfw

Word Count: 1.5k

Sunday was always considered to be a patient man, especially with those he considered important to him. He had put up with plenty of Robin's silly plans and humored her with delight -- he loved her after all, and any plan she had wasn't truly all that silly so long as it came from her. He even enjoyed her endless conversations when he was meant to be finishing up paperwork. His time with her was sparse, he could afford extra time away from his duties for her. She never kept him for long anyway, understanding his position better than anyone else.

You, however, did not have the excuse of being his darling sister. You spent a significant amount of time with him, both in and out of work, and he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Which meant you knew better than most others how much he needed to fill out this report today. Yet... you kept running those stupidly pretty lips of yours.

He wasn't even sure what you were talking about, he'd tuned you out about ten minutes into your talking. Nearly an hour had passed, and you were still going on and on about something or another -- he catches that it's about an up-and-coming artist you'd seen, not that he cares for any musician that isn't his sister. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just talking, he'd mastered the technique of ignoring things that seemed to get under his skin, but you needed assurance that he was listening.

He would occasionally have to pause and answer questions without much context, or hum in acknowledgement of your words. Your incessant rambling is normally incredibly endearing to him, but with the deadline looming over his head, and the ache stinging between his brows it was enough to make it vexing.

He lets out a sigh, hands pressing the pen to the desk just a bit too harshly. You silence yourself, flinching back a little in surprise. He nearly coos, he hadn't meant to scare you, but you were very cute when frightened. (Perhaps he shouldn't be thinking such things...)

"My love," He hums, meeting your gaze with a calm smile, "you know I love having you around, don't you?"

You nod, nervousness shining in your eyes, giving you away despite the brave front you put on. You were always too easy for him to read, a bit concerning considering the enemies he has, but he'd prefer you pliant than hardened -- at least, in that way.

He gestures to the papers on his desk, "You also know how important it is that I get this done today, yes?"

"Of course," You answer immediately, and he can see the realization of why he was scolding you across your face. So very cute. "Was I talking too much?"

He hums an affectionate smile on his face, and gestures for you to come to his side. You do so with no arguments, as expected. He turns in his chair, grabbing you by your hips to situate you between his legs. You flush a bit at the contact, predictable as always, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"I need to get this done, angel," He asserts again, and you frown shamefully.

"Would you like me to leave?" You offer, but the idea sours something in his chest.

He shakes his head adamantly, "Of course not. I love having you here, but you'll have to behave for me."

There is a spark behind your eyes at his words that makes him ache a bit, his member coming to life much too fast for his liking. The effect seems to be mutual, as far as he can tell from his position near your crotch. His placid smile morphs into a slight smirk, and his eyes meet yours again, "You can behave for me, can't you?"

You nod adamantly, "Of course, s-sir." The title is stuttered, somehow unsure despite your knowing very well what he wanted from you now. It was so adorable how concerned you were with overstepping with him. You truly could do no wrong in his eyes, even when you were getting in the way of his work.

"Then," he pushes you to step back, leaning back in his chair, "Take your pants and underwear off for me. Quickly, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

You nod again, doing as he says like a well-trained pet, pretty eyes looking to him for approval as you shove the clothes to the side. He rewards you with a smile, leaning forward to run a finger along the bottom of your hard cock. You hiss at the sensation, drawing a chuckle from his chest.

He eases himself out of his pants as he tugs on your sensitive member a few times, enjoying the little whimpers you give him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach. He leans back again as it does, telling you what to do with his eyes alone. You follow along like in a trance -- he'd almost believed you were under the influence Harmony, if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t using it in the moment.

You hiss lowly as he slides into you. Going raw must've been painful for you, but it felt heavenly for him. Your ass squeezed him so well like it was meant to hold him deep within. He smiles reassuringly at you as you finally sit fully on his lap, taking your chin in his hand to settle a kiss to your lips.

"Very good," He compliments.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze, "Thank you, sir."

He tuts at you, drawing your gaze back just as quickly as it left, "You can sit still and wait like a good boy, can't you? If you can't well..."

"Of course I can!" You respond with a desperation that surprises both of you, quickly adding, "Sir."

"Good, good," he hums, pressing a warm hand against the back of your neck. Your chin rests against his shoulder on instinct, getting comfortable against him. Once he's satisfied with you behaving, he leans forward and starts back to working on the document you'd been distracting him from.

The scratching of his pen is one of the only things keeping you grounded in reality. The stretch of his thick cock in your ass is almost too much for your brain to handle. You shouldn't have been talking so much, honestly, this is no one's fault but your own. Still, the torture of not being allowed to move for fear of worse punishment is enough to make you want to cry.

You sit there pretty on his dick like a good boy, though. Always so obedient for him, if only he didn't have to tell you to behave. No one is perfect, so this was a sacrifice Sunday had to make to keep things as he liked.

His fingers climb up your spine, tingling across your body right to your achingly hard cock. You almost hear Sunday chuckle when it twitches between the two of you, but it's so quiet you believe you might've made it up in your fucked out brain. You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some friction, but all Sunday has to do is place his hand on it and you cease all movements.

Sunday seems, on the outside, entirely unaffected by everything. For the most part, he really is. He's blasting through his work faster than before, but that was because he couldn't wait much longer to bend you over the papers and reward you for good behavior. Each squeeze around him has him swallowing down groans, determined to not give into your temptations -- no matter how wonderful that sounded.

When he signs the last dotted line and closes the stack of papers back to the front page he lets out a sigh that resembles more of a moan than anything as you clench anticipatorily around him yet again. His pen is set on the desk with a little 'click', and he finally looks at you after agonizing minutes of your squirming. Lust has clouded over his gaze, and he looks positively angelic nearly lost to his own sin.

You are no better, pleading with your eyes for him to fuck you like the sweet thing you were. Tears pricked at the corners of your lashes, a picture of absolute beauty. He smiles at you, wiping them away from your cheeks as they spill over.

"You were very good, my sweet angel," He hums, moving his hands to your hips, "you deserve a reward for behaving, don't you?"

You nod adamantly, your heart picking up in excitement. He raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, and you know what you're meant to do next without the need for words. Standing from his lap, hissing as he leaves your tight hole, and bending over his desk like the good pet you were.

"Very good..." He hums, and your spine tingles in excitement as you hear his pants and belt hit the floor around his feet.

[stupidlittlespirit]

You asked for some cute fun asks, so I've appeared to help!

If you've ever played (or watched someone else play) the Swooning Over Stans game, there's a scene in Stan's route where you go to a 70s dance night with him. It's very fun and flirty~

Ever since then, I've wondered if Ford would enjoy going for a dance like that with his s/o. I can definitely see him getting SUPER nervous about it beforehand because he's having flashbacks of his prom night disaster and thinking he's going to totally bomb it. But maybe his date would coax him to just have a little fun, let loose.

I agree with your thought that he'd be the kind of guy to like old classic crooner music (and now I'm swooning for real just thinking abt it), but maybe some 70s funk can get him going, too. Now every time I listen to that stuff, I can't help but picture Ford trying to teach his date how the dances really went (and possibly failing miserably but laughing over it)

GOD yes, I played Swooning when it first released and it was wonderful. I've played it through on both routes about 10 times each lol. I still can't believe we were gifted such a gorgeous game by all of those talented people for free.

I know exactly what scene you mean. That was such a nice touch.

I daydream about this fucking scenario with Ford a lot. It's so silly but I do it when I listen to that kind of music and it's really nice haha Very normal of me, I know, so expect a long answer to this under the cut:

I'm going to set this within GF, but at a function beyond the town he might struggle a little more unless he knew the people there.

I think Ford would be (naturally) nervous beforehand for the reasons you mentioned. He's not very fond of social interaction that isn't super necessary, though post portal he is definitely better at that than he was, and the thought of doing something that holds bad memories would be very daunting for him, to the point that he'd probably refuse at first. More so with the excuse that he doesn't have time or doesn't care about stuff like that than admitting he's nervous.

Mabel would definitely encourage him to go and Reader would mention that they'd enjoy having some fun/seeing him have fun as well, plus they'd certainly miss Ford if he stayed at home. They would understand his hesitation around the event but a little gentle comforting from them around the knowledge that they'd be there to support him would go a long way, I think.

"There's no pressure to stay if you get there and don't like it," and "We can just go home, you're in control of the situation and I'll be by your side no matter what," kind of thing. I think he'd find that very soothing and helpful, just to be reminded that no one will force him. Eventually, he'd give a little and agree on those terms. Plus, Mabel would guilt him a bit because she wants to see him to be included haha.

Once he got there, he'd be a wallflower to begin with. That's fine, obviously. He needs time to settle in. Maybe a drink or two, as well (I know how he feels LMAO) before he can really get comfortable. He'd look to Reader for comfort but he'd also not want to prevent them from enjoying themselves, so he wouldn't insist they stay with him all the time.

I don't think he'd refuse to engage with other people; he'd be reasonably accustomed with the townsfolk anyway so he'd know them and their demeanours a bit more than if he was at a totally new function or with people he had never met. He wouldn't start general conversation (unless it was with Fiddleford), though.

He'd definitely be more inclined to hover around the edge of the party rather than step straight in like Stan would, but if people came up to see him and say hi (and they would because the family is known and liked) then he'd be able to hold good conversation. Post-Portal!Ford is going to have developed his social skills a great deal from his time away and I think he'd be more willing to hear what other people have to say and engage with them.

When he was younger, I think he might have only really been interested in talking about the topics he knew about because they felt safer for him, they were something he was good at talking about, but obviously when you're that smart it's nigh on impossible to find that level of conversation with others so he would have considered himself a failure in terms of social ability purely because he struggled to connect on that aspect, when really he'd just be expecting a bit too much from the general populous. That, combined with general awkwardness and a lack of knowledge on how to make menial conversation would have made it really hard for him. He does talk about that in TBoB, actually, with the joke he makes about pie in the diner. It doesn't land because the waitress doesn't have that level of understanding. It's a funny joke though! He is good at talking to people, he just comes at it from a unique angle.

So, anyway, I digress. He'd be a bit shy but he'd be open to chatting to others, and eventually he'd warm up. He'd realise he's been overthinking everything a bit too much and getting in his own way, and then start to ease up without even realising.

Reader, meanwhile, would have to strike a balance on making sure he was okay and also giving him the space to bloom on his own. Maybe making eye contact with him from across the room and giving him a little thumbs up-thumbs down gesture to check in, only for him to return a thumbs up and big, warm smile, much to their relief. They'd have known he was capable of it, he just needed to remember his capability himself.

So after a bit of time and a bit of space to find his feet, he might overhear that they're playing the kind of music he used to listen to in his youth. I'm going to project here (because you guys know my affinity for 70's music) and say maybe some Baccara (Yes Sir, I can Boogie is a banger), some Bee Gees (duh), just anything fun.

Ford would know the words by heart and once you'd returned to his side, he'd be singing them under his breath or tapping his foot or whatever, and you'd ask him if he wanted to dance. He'd say no because dancing requires a level of self-humiliation and he'd be too self conscious initially, but again, you would coax him a little.

I think you could ease him into it (I think that's the trick with Ford generally anyway). Maybe Reader would take one of his hands and he'd twirl them around, just indulging them a bit because he'd think it's endearing even if he won't do it himself.

I think seeing someone else be a bit silly puts other people at ease and makes them a bit more willing to be silly themselves, so he'd kind of get a little more into it as the music went on and once things changed to those slower, crooning songs, he might just take Reader's other hand and (much to their absolute joy) slow dance with them a bit. He'd prefer to stay tucked into a corner rather than make a show of being out on the dance floor like his brother, but I think he'd be inclined to sing a little bit, just quietly, privately, and lead Reader in a dance.

He wouldn't be a practised dancer but he'd be able to keep time and count beats (it's math!) and although he'd still fuck it up, as would Reader because I doubt many of us are classically trained dancers, he'd be able to laugh along with you and have fun. He'd forget the room, as would you, and you'd be able to really have an intimate, joyful moment together.

God fuck I am so normal about this old man. This is the kind of shit they put you on medication for if you tell the therapist too much LMAO

Also shameless self plug but here is my playlist for this exact scenario. 'Misty' by Lesley Gore is my personal favourite Ford song. Don't judge me, I beg.