#anyway he knows know and I’m so happy for him and Tommy <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[theotherbuckley]

Another reason Buck just thought he was a really good Ally is that Eddie literally took him on a whole ass romantic date but like as friends so how was he supposed to know.

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 3)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 3 A tragedy 

So enraptured with Alastor, you forgot how you left work on Saturday. Tommy didn’t forget. And he made sure you remembered. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, your paramour made a habit of helping quicken karma’s balancing act.

「warnings/promises: immediate physical assault (let’s be up front about that), allusions to sexual assaults having happened in the past to non-reader characters, HumanAlastor x FemReader, penetrative sex, Protective Alastor, bruises, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, mentions to coerced prostitution, sex near a corpse (words that have the FBI watching me), stabbing, knife, bad burlesque names, gambling, my own new HC for the Radio Demon’s origins, another deer reference thanks to @n-after-me , chin quivering, Tommy doesn’t know French and it shows, posted early for @jazzmasternot, wrath」

Minors DNI 🤺

You walked into the theatre for rehearsals with a pep in your step, body still humming. It was like the usual adrenaline rush Alastor brought couldn't fade this time.

But it did, when Tommy grabbed you by the hair out of your makeup chair and threw you into the wall. 

You couldn’t react, head ringing after it left a small indent in the drywall. Unlike before, you didn’t try to stand. Make him work for his second hit. And he did. Leaning down he yanked you off the ground by your arm and dragged you to your feet. 

“Do you think you’re funny?” He shook you, you were sure you could feel your brain jostle. It was rhetorical, but you replied anyway.

“No, Tommy.”

“No. Exactly.” He backed you up onto the make up table, head pressed into the mirror. “Mr. Wilson was not happy. He pulled his contribution. I know you don’t have that kind of money. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

His fingers dug into your cheeks, “No.” You genuinely didn’t. He was talking to you like you had been in the loop on whatever it was he had been doing on the side. All of this was as shocking to you as your actions were, apparently, to him. 

“You’re gonna take whatever meetings I make until that money is back.” He let go of you and turned to leave but changed his mind. Coming back, he swung his fist and clocked you on the left side of your face.

You didn’t see it, but you heard the other girls running and pulling Tommy off of you, yelling and pleading for him to calm down.

“I worked really hard for you!” He shouted, jerking his shoulders out from under the hands of the other performers. What was he talking about? You hadn’t discussed any of this, asked for any thing from him. “I waited for a high roller for you. Real classy guy. Just wanted a private show! That was it!” He spit, “No, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is welcome now to ask for your time.”

You just held your face, unsure if you had the right makeup to hide the bruise before stage call. 

“Well?! Say you’re sorry.”

You considered not saying anything. No response. When you looked at him, you could see the half a dozen other girls staring back at you, just say it. We have to rehearse.

“I’m sorry.” Eyes cast to the floor.

“For what?”

It hurt when you rolled your eyes, “For being ungrateful?” 

He shoulder checked a few girls on the way out. A couple came to you.

“He’s got some gambling debt, he’s just using us to get ahead.”

“I have some stuff to cover that up for tonight.”

“He usually cuts us in.”

Tears stung your eyes, you were angry and humiliated. You could work elsewhere, with a little luck. Take a job at a diner out of the area where no regulars would stir up trouble. Maybe leave until Tommy got his debts paid off or whatever was motivating this recent streak of cruelty. But you didn’t want to run away. No one applauded waitresses. Maybe if you made yourself as unattractive as possible, no one would request you. Dirty your teeth, talk about other men, speak crudely. 

“What exactly was he talking about?” you asked no one in particular. The girls were quiet for a beat.

“Well ya know, private shows for clients who can afford it.” High pitched and nasal, Florence spoke as she searched her make up station.

“That’s it?” Incredulous.

“Sometimes. You know how it is… woman left alone in a room with a man who has too much money or ego or drink. Doesn’t always stop at a dance.” Minnie had much more experience than you, “It isn’t our jobs. It isn’t normal. But, well, ya heard about New York right? They’re trying to make burlesque outright illegal…”

“Gotta enjoy the art while it’s just misunderstood.” Florence wiped down your mirror before setting her supplies down for you. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

By the time patrons began to stream in, you had blood staining the white of your left eye. Nothing you could do, but maybe at a distance it wouldn’t be noticeable. The bruise under your eye from his fist was easy enough to cover. The contusion from where your right cheek hit the wall was a little harder. 

Luckily, the stage offered a buffer of space and the rest of the room was dark. 

During your show, you tried to keep your eyes moving so the red sclera never stayed in one place too long. For the first time, the cheers did nothing for you. You felt your chin quiver, fighting back tears. You wanted to scream, to tell them to hate you and leave. Stop fucking clapping.

Ruth was naturally the first to come to you after your performance, “Want me to do the tour with you? Arm in arm around the hall.”

You took her up on the offer. It lightened the load, her taking charge of the conversation when people approached or bought you drinks. Luckily the bartender always poured the performers weak cocktails and watered down liquor to keep their heads on straight. 

Ruth’s companionship afforded you precious time to plan, to consider how quickly you could find new work or at least a way out of this.

“What a treat. Two for one. Can I buy you both a drink?” 

Ruth turned first to greet the customer, “Ooh yes sir! Gin and tonic, please and thank you. Autumn?” Your stage name drew your attention back to the world, turning finally.

“Alastor.” It fell from your mouth like a lead balloon.

He smiled down at you, his hand offering a little wave, “Hello. Surprise.” 

Your face fell, a frown pulling down your chin. It took you too long to recover, batting your eyelashes and turning the corners of your lips up unnaturally. 

“So you do have a beau!” Ruth slapped your arm, “I’m Skye, Skye Scraper. Pleasure to meet you, Alastor.” She extended her hand, Alastor planting a kiss on the back of it, concealing his smile at the name.

You tried to keep your eyes on the floor, head turned slightly away from him to obscure the neon sign of an eye shouting, ‘Weak!’

Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t an oblivious man. Unless he was dancing or drunk. “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alastor asked Ruth. Ruth looked to you for your okay, and you just nodded. She gave a little nod of her own to Alastor and slinked away. 

“Are you unhappy to see me, dear? Did I overstep by coming by unannounced?” You hadn’t heard him worried before, it pained you. 

“No, no! I am… so happy to see you. I just had a long day.” You scanned the room for the darkest area to bring him. A booth would be best, you could keep him on one side of you. You gestured with a nod of your head.

“Ah, I kept you out too late.” Alastor didn’t move.

“Not at all, come on let’s sit down.” You reached back for his hand without looking at him, but when you pulled he still didn’t move. He remembered the way you pulled at the hand of that man in the alley the first night you met. Desperate to escape somewhere. 

“Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”

Lie. 

“Uh, no, I’m just embarrassed about this heavy stage makeup.” 

Alastor paused, hand slipping from yours to adjust his sleeves. It was a nervous action, an attempt to self soothe, but you didn’t know that. “I should have asked before coming.”

“Alastor, it’s not…,” you kept your eyes down at your hands.

“Then look at me.”

Would he think you were incapable of protecting yourself? His pity would kill you. Perhaps he would decide a second rate burlesquer wasn’t worth making time for anymore.

You could intentionally wound him, say you don’t want to see him so he leaves. But that sword was double edged and you weren’t sure you’d survive that either. You weren’t making it out of this.

You finally looked at him. He leaned in, “What happened to your eye?” A slender finger gently tilting your chin upward.

Lie. 

You thought too long for an answer. Why were you getting worse at lying? It used to be one of your best shields and swords but now you were so slow on the draw you were left defenseless. Vulnerable. His hand took yours, gently pulling you into the lobby and through the glass doors of the theatre.

Under the bright lights of the marquee and the street lamps, Alastor inspected your face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, wetting it in his mouth before wiping the makeup off of your under eye.

“Alastor, people are staring.” 

His eyes fell down, soft hands lifting your arm where a bruise was already formed. You hadn’t noticed that one.

“What happened?” He wasn't looking at you when he said it, instead cautiously wiping the makeup off your cheeks in search of more marks.

“The truth or wh-“

“Always. Never give me anything else.”

You sighed, and explained, “Tommy, the manager, he’s been shifting tactics for bringing in money because he owes some big bads a lot of debt. Private shows with performers that sometimes get hands on…,” his hands stopped moving but his eyes didn’t meet yours, “I never asked to be included in it. I wouldn’t do it. I was rude to a man Tommy introduced me to and I ran off Saturday. Yada Yada. He got me as soon as I got to work.”

Alastor didn’t reply, just turned on his heels and marched back into the theater. You chased after him, “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” You tried to get in front of him but he walked right past you.

“Not about what you need, dear, it's about what he deserves.” 

Alastor asked the bartender for Tommy, who pointed to the short but stocky man talking to a group of guests. Alastor approached so quickly Tommy didn’t have time to greet him, instead just backing up until he fell ass first into a booth. Alastor boxed him in, one hand on the wall and one on the table, towering over Tommy as he sat.

“I hear you sell dancers by the night.”

You paced the lobby nervously. Would you be fired? What would Alastor say? Would Tommy hit him, too?

He re-emerged, “Come to my car, please.” He didn't stop walking as he said it. 

You followed a few blocks down to his car, parked on the street. He opened the passenger door for you and closed it behind you. You wanted to ask if you were going somewhere, but thought better of it. A tight u-turn, he pulled the car into the side street where you’d first met each other.

Wordlessly he got out of the car, you opening your door before he could. Popping the trunk, he set the folded canvas inside a paper bag. Checking first, he placed it inside one of the tin trash cans. 

You stood, waiting for an explanation.

Finally he stopped and made eye contact with you. “You have a date tomorrow, with me. Bring this to the apartment above the theater before Tommy and I arrive.” Opening your mouth to speak, he didn’t stop to let you add anything. “Preferably near the bed.” He closed the trunk, “Wear red, please.”

You searched his face for some kind of discernible emotion but found none. Those constricted pupils again, an animal staring back at you from behind a pair of glasses. There was no reason to ask him, it was obvious what was going to happen. Did you want to stop it? 

Did you want to see it? Alastor at work?

“Okay. On all the points.” You looked back at the trashcan, “Canvas hidden near the bed. Wear red.”

“The extra clothes can go anywhere out of sight.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your voice cracked a little, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

He nodded, “I can’t stay here.” Before getting into his car he turned and added, “Don’t cover the bruises tomorrow. He should see them.”

You nodded in return, “Are you doing this for me?” So quiet you almost hoped he didn’t hear it.

He paused, one leg already in the car and his back to you, “No. I’m doing it for everyone.”

You watched his car light up and leave the alley.

It’s not that you felt abandoned, you felt…. Stranded. You had to go back in there, alone, and put on the normal act but under abnormal conditions. 

So it was happening. You hadn’t seen the first time. Just felt it. You didn’t see the second. You were going to actually see a man die. Not just a man, someone you knew. Someone you used to consider a friend of sorts. Before he got into whatever trouble was driving him to act like a flesh peddler. Could you do it? Could you watch a man be killed? Was that even what Alastor had planned?

Tommy found you the second you were back in the room, hand pressing too hard on the bruises he left on your arm. “You have a meeting tomorrow after your show. If you don’t show up,” he yanked you close, putrid breath of dead teeth you’d never been bothered by before this moment and bad booze assaulting your senses, “I will fucking kill you.”

You almost started laughing, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your smile. “Okay Tommy.” 

Fuck it. He was going to die anyway, might as well make it a date. 

Ruth saddled up beside you as soon as Tommy was out of earshot, “Look at that smile. Quickie in the alley?”

Disgust, “Jesus, Skye, I was gone like, 5 minutes.” She shrugged. “Why does everyone think — is everyone fucking their daddies* in the side street?” She nodded. “Well, I’m not.”

“Prude.” She joshed before linking your arm in hers again, “We’ve got at least another hour of schmoozing. Tits up!”

Your smile came effortlessly that night, a thrum of excitement keeping you light on your feet. Not excitement for death, but for the very concept of being closer to Alastor. Would you see it happen, in front of you? Or would he have you leave? Either way, you were an active participant with a task list.

He trusted you, even if in a small way. Trust was so rarely given from the people who mattered. Men trusted you often; to be sweet when they tell you they were embarrassed about something, to lie when they ask if you orgasmed, to not steal their cash when they blacked out with their pants still on. Pulling it from strangers was one of your greatest pleasures. But it was easy. You were skilled. 

Yet again, like so often now, Alastor was the exception. He didn’t toss himself at your feet. He stood tall in front of you and on his own terms offered you the things you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure, you didn’t have sit on his lap in silence and nod and laugh. Just yourself, as much as you could allow yourself to exist in the world. No tricks. If his trust was presented wrapped in a bloodied bow, well, you would thank him dearly and wear the ribbon round your neck like a trophy.

Many men spoke to you, but luckily your participation in conversation wasn’t something they really cared about. As they spoke, your eyes were looking past them and into the future. 

However there was a sense of dread when you lied in bed that night. The excitement of getting closer to Alastor had melted into the fear there was no going back from this. 

Something in your chest stung, a thorn growing from somewhere unknown. Three encounters (that he knew of) and already it seemed your thoughts were more Alastor than yourself. No person had ever made such an impression before. You didn’t like it, but it made you happy. Which is why you didn’t like it. Tying your happiness to another person was a reckless thing to do. You’d seen your mother and half sister both use a man’s attention as a replacement for being happy with themselves and it made them brittle and hollow.

Thinking of what would happen the following night, oddly, you were reminded of losing your virginity. You were a “late bloomer” and were terrified you’d never be you again after. Like something would be taken from you. You fell asleep to that thought, of what you’d lose.

Then you woke, uncharacteristically early, feeling none the bit rested. No dreams. No nightmares. A few seconds of darkness and suddenly it was morning. With the extra time you had you wandered into a department store before going to the theater.

When a sales woman approached you, asking what you were looking for, you were too tired lie.

“A red dress.” You didn’t have the makeup at home to cover your marks, and gave up being worried about it. 

Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t so odd of a sight; a woman with a black eye.

“What’s the occasion? Apology dinner?” The woman fidgeted with the hangers while looking at you.

You grimaced, “No, a murder.”

She howled, “You are a hoot! Don’t we wish, huh? Let me pull you some options.”

You put the dress on the top of the paper bag, having hidden it under your make up table the previous night. Your fingers were trembling, applying your makeup needing deep breaths and concentration.

“Ruth, can you do my lips?” You turned and handed her the brush. 

“The eye looks better.” She took your chin in her hand and painted your mouth a pretty shade of red.

“Thank you.” You offered her a smile but she didn't let go, “What?”

“You ever seen a cornered raccoon? Like one got in the house and your mom boxed it into a corner with a broom?”

A nod, yes, actually, you had.

“Who’s got the broom?” She asked. You knitted your brow, not understanding. “Who’s got you in a corner? Is it Tommy?”

You took your chin back, deep breaths. “No brooms. No corners. Just rattled still from last night.” Not a lie, surprisingly. “You thought of a raccoon? Really? Is it because of the eye?”

When you took your bow for the evening and turned to escape the stage lights for the darkness of backstage, you found Tommy leaning just outside the dressing room.

“Get changed, doors unlocked upstairs. Room 504.” 

Grabbing the paper bag you ran through your mental checklist. Wear red, take off your make up, hide the canvas by the bed. An odd to-do list for murder.

The theater had two floors of modest apartments above it, the owners keeping two of the open for the theater’s use. One was for the owners should they ever visit New Orleans, and the other was multi use. Storage and a crash pad for performers or Tommy when he worked late.

The bag crinkled as you hugged it, looking over the small apartment. Boxes, decorations, a modest kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was quite large, a tub and shower head. Was this where the other performers went?  

Why hadn’t anyone said anything sooner? Why didn’t anyone leave yet?

Taking a second, you got to work. You opened the canvas and slid it under the bed, the smallest bit of edge sticking out for easy retrieval. Dizzy with the quickly settling reality of what you were doing, you sat on the floor for a moment. Trying to calm your breathing, you closed your eyes.

The fear of the unknown was suffocating you. There was a possibility Alastor failed and ended up hurt. Or, that he changed his mind and Tommy left you two to just hold hands on the bed for a sex-appropriate amount of time.

You patted your thighs and stood up. No time now for a panic attack. Alastor had a change of clothes in the bag, neatly folded and tied in twine. They were set onto the shelf above the closet.

And finally, yourself. Your dress was on and you stopped to wipe the make up off your face in the bathroom mirror. Still bruised, still nasty. The dress was nice though, carrying some of the weight for your battered mug. Red cotton, sailor neck and little gold buttons down the front. Flashy, brighter than the dark number you usually wore.

Would he like it? Most men looked for how a dress accentuated your curves (or hid them) but you had a feeling Alastor didn’t care so much about that.

You took your seat at the edge of the bed, thin mattress sagging from your weight.

The clock ticked, until finally the door opened and you saw something you hadn’t seen before and knew you’d never see again. Tommy and Alastor.

“Here she is. Autumn, this is Mr. Cerf. He's asked I stay in the apartment, apparently word of your attitude already spread among the upperclass.” Tommy wagged his finger at you in a playful way that was entirely out of place.

“Look at her. Pouting. Not very excited, is she?” Alastor smiled at you, softly. You felt for a second that maybe you entirely misunderstood. He looked calm, normal. Even peaceful.

“It’s always nice when they fight a little. But she won’t cause you any trouble.” Tommy patted Alastor’s back, who immediately shirked away.

“Do you like it when women try to fight you off, Tommy?”

A dry laugh, “Ya know how it is. They gotta act like they don’t like it so people still respect ‘em.”

A hum. Alastor’s smile falling entirely. A shadow settled over his face. “I see. That does make things easier.” He slipped on his short black gloves. “I always tell her she looks lovely in red. She rarely listens to me, but I’m happy to see she did tonight. It’s a special occasion.” 

Once, you thought. You didn’t listen once. 

Tommy nervously chuckled, looking from Alastor then to you, “What?” Alastor grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground and onto his knees. Hand fisted in his hair, knife pressing across his throat. 

Alastor dug his knee into the small of Tommy’s back, “Tommy, I think you owe the lady an apology.” You let your feet find the edge of the canvas and slid it out with a kick. It glided across the wood and stopped where his knees met the floor. 

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tommy was staring at the waxed fabric in front of him. 

You felt your eyes sting with tears, a smile breaking out against your will. “For what?”

“I—,” his eyes searched the room for an answer, your words bringing a pulse of Deja Vu, “It’s about yesterday?” He seemed to relax a little, “Come on. I said sorry. ” Looking back to Alastor. “I didn’t know she had a guy.”

Alastor yanked his head back to look him squarely in his eyes, “Wrong answer.” He pushed him down onto his stomach, “Come on Tommy. I like when my victims fight a little, too.” Sensing the taller man towering over him with the knife, Tommy scrambled onto his back to look at Alastor. Tommy started shouting, “Hey!! Someone!” But there was no one to hear him. That was the beauty of the space he always brought his dates to; it was too loud to hear anyone scream. 

Funny how that works both ways.

Alastor shrugged, “Well that didn’t last long.” As Tommy backed up, trying to get traction on the slippery canvas and failing, Alastor straddled him. Tommy’s hands came up, one pushing against Alastor’s face, the other against the arm holding the knife. Alastor put both hands onto the knife’s handle, staring down into Tommy’s eyes as he inched closer to the man’s neck. “You look scared, Tommy. Are you scared?” 

The other man shouted, eyes trembling as he watched the knife come down.

Alastor pushed through, metal sinking into Tommy’s throat. No pause, he withdrew and sank it again and again. Tommy’s hands fell from Alastor’s face, flailing slightly at his neck before slumping down. He was frenzied, stabbing at his chest and upward with wide eyes. You recognized those constricted pupils. They made sense in this setting. Alastor was panting, taking a second to split the skin from ear to ear in the middle of his melee. 

You brought your knees to your chest, watching the crime unfold. Was this anger for you or truly for everyone? No one ever got so angry for you before, if you could be so conceited as to say this was for you. Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, no filter. “You look like an angry God. A jazz demon of wrath.” You smiled, the morbidity not lost on you.

Alastor stopped, frozen as he stared at you. For a second, he had forgotten you were there. He was always alone during these hobbies of his. Until recently. You looked like an angel in red and gold. Had he dyed your heavenly robes crimson? Or had you been made that way?

He dropped the knife, peeling his gloves off and stepping over Tommy’s decimated torso before kicking off his shoes.

You scooted back onto the bed and opened your arms, welcoming a strange after-kill cuddle. Your reward.

Alastor took off his bowtie, then his shirt. It took you a second, not realizing what was happening until he began to unbuckle his belt. “Now?!” 

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“What the fuc— okay,” your hands flew to unclasp your stockings and roll down your panties. You mumbled to yourself, “Jesus Christ.”

As he crawled over you, warm gloveless hands tracing along your legs, hips, waist, you looked at up him with your now dilated pupils, “It’s murder? You need murder?”

He laughed, embarrassing you a little, “No it isn’t that.” His face nuzzled into your neck, “You’d go to hell? For me?” 

You froze, you hadn’t really seen it like that.

“You’d damn your eternal soul,” his hips pressed into you, an unfamiliar hardness there that made you gulp, “just to spend time with me?”

How were you so heated over an erection? A dime a dozen, men practically threw them at women who offered them the slightest smile. Yet feeling him so hard against you, something you had been practically praying for, made you weak. A trembling virgin all over again. 

Don’t lie, he always told you to be honest so you decided to try it out even if it made you feel at risk of harm. Your hands slid up and into his hair, gripping gently, enough to elicit a groan from him, “Well I was worried heaven wouldn’t have jazz, so… yeah.” You had to always say something a little in jest, to hide from the vulnerability of honesty, “This seemed like a better option.” The truth was, if you had to state it plainly, you would dive head first into hell in exchange for his smile. To hear his laugh. To feel his breath over your mouth. You were quite sure hell was more your scene, anyway.

“I’ll be sure to fill your afterlife with jazz every day, dear.” 

How could he make hell sound so sweet?

“It’s a deal.” Fingers playing with his hair, basking in the warmth of skin on skin. 

He leaned up, eyes scanning your face as he always seemed to do in these intimate moments. The feeling spreading down his chest was one wholly foreign to him, one he was struggling to put into his own words. You hadn’t run away. You opened your arms for him even still, welcoming your own damnation in exchange for… affection? Attention? Him? The reason didn’t matter, not to Alastor, and not now to his growing need. You didn’t even push him for more than he wanted to give, not yet needled him for details, secrets, sex. Could you really just be there for Alastor? Take him for what he was and what he wasn’t?

His mouth was salivating at the thought you’d give him anything. Reality was, you already had. His finger caressed the purple welt on your cheek. You were given pain and he returned it ten fold to its owner. A demon of wrath. He felt his cock twitching, underwear tented around him. 

You smiled up at him, wiping a little streak of blood from his jawline, “You look quite pretty in red yourself.”

His head came to rest on your collarbone with a shaky sigh.

Had you said something wrong? 

“Please, you’re already pushing me to my limit.”

Making a show of it, you zipped your mouth and pretended to toss the key. You wanted to reach down and pull off his remaining bit of clothing, to rub yourself against his manhood. But, you weren’t sure if that was something he would appreciate. You didn’t want to ruin his experience, to make him regret offering you something he so clearly didn’t need to give.

He removed his underwear, watching you unbutton your dress and pulling your arms free. Your bra, garter, and stockings were still on. Somehow he found it more scandalous than if you were completely naked.

Your breath was shaking, uneven as the excitement took control of you. There was a not totally unfounded fear you'd black out from hyperventilating.

Alastor lined himself up with your heat and pressed in, making a hard to decipher face as his brow knit up and he bit his lip. You were already so wet, not a hand or mouth needed from him. He wondered if you shared more than an acceptance of justified homicide; your body so relaxed and welcoming to him. 

With a few shallow thrusts, he was fully sunk into you. You may have let out a cry. An emptiness you hadn’t clocked was suddenly gone. Was this what Zeus meant when he said the two souled humans were too powerful and tore them apart to weaken them? 

Was this sex, or love? The word made you nervous. But—- if he offered it to you in both palms, you’d suffocate yourself in his hands.

He began to move in earnest, thrusting in and out slowly. You had expected the frantic moves of a horny virgin. Instead he was moving with control, hips rolling into you like waves gentle and steady where the lake met land, not slamming like many men before him. 

Had it been any other dick, you’d whine and begin moving yourself against it for that needed speed. This was Alastor. Dripping pleasure into your open mouth like a drought-breaking summer shower.

You didn’t recognize your own sounds, already panting and moaning as a warmth spread from the place where his cock was sliding around inside you.

Alastor tried to keep calm. Even when his body was sensitive, he wasn’t used to the mental work needed to fight off his orgasm. Usually he had the opposite issue, struggling to stay focused enough to finish. Mind wandering to more productive chores. 

But you were so wet, so accepting in body and mind. He watched your eyes close, one hand gently clawing at the blankets, the other reaching down to touch his lower stomach every time he thrust back in. For the first time in a very long time you really truly wanted to remember who was at the other end of the dick you were enjoying.

Languid moves. Swollen cockhead hitting the bottom of your walls, the top, the end, pushing still a little further.

“I’m sorry,” Alastor leaned down over you, kissing at your jawline, “For making you wait so long for so little.”

His rhythm picked up then, burying himself deeper into your sopping cunt and dragging out enough to pull back that quiver of his release.

You shook your head, lips tingling. “Nothing little here.”

He attempted a laugh, losing his breath. He wanted to last longer, to make the experience worth your while but he could feel you dripping down his balls and it weakened him with alarming efficiency. Finally the frenzied speed you witnessed earlier was turned to you, you brought your legs up, holding at his sides. “Darling I need to-,” he moaned into your ear.

“Please stay.” You clung to his neck, nails grazing at his shoulders.

Alastor’s voice was soft and sweet, a small moan and a gentle grunt. His legs spread more, trying to get every centimeter of himself into you. Hips now grinding in a small circle, but not losing any of the comfort of your warmth. You felt him still pumping that welcomed heat into you, and you tightened around him, drawing out your own moan. He hissed, “Sensitive.” Your legs were shaking like leaves in a storm, no orgasm but the pleasure nonetheless intoxicating.

The front of your brain felt like static, perhaps from the lack of oxygen as you had uncharacteristically lost your breath under Alastor. 

Like losing your virginity, after the fear faded and you were able to find a moment for introspection, you found yourself larger than before. The edges of your canvas expanded out, new parts of yourself unfurling for you to explore. Nothing had been lost, only gained.

Alastor kissed at the dark circle under your eye, at the bruise of your cheek, he lifted your arm and kissed gently at the purple and blue spots there too. He had lied, and he wasn’t sure why, but maybe he’d find the will to admit it to you someday.

He had left yesterday to keep from strangling Tommy in the center of the theater, finding himself in a rage. He rarely felt anger. His killings always about retribution, about karma, about righting the scales. He needed to leave to keep from losing his composure.

He lied to you in the alley, unable to look you in the eye when he did it for fear you’d see it. You always seemed to see him with a clarity others didn’t despite such a short time together. He struggled to hide from you and it was as exciting as it was frightening. A testament to your similarities.

He hadn’t done it for everyone. No. His personal moral code fell to pieces when he saw your bloodied eye and bruised skin. He would have killed Tommy even if he had been a good man, even if you’d been the instigator. None of his murderous rules mattered. And it scared him. 

(Next Part Next Week, orz)

*slang for boyfriend, often a rich one

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Ghosts in the family

Synopsis - aka all the times The Riley siblings have talked about eachother, and all the times Soap should’ve connected the dots but didn’t see the constellation.

cw/tags - MDNI 18+ making out, grinding, no piv or smut guys sorry, swearing, mentions of female anatomy, military inaccuracies, fanon versions of cod characters, threats, mild violence, mentions of guns, innuendos, etc. you’re dealing with grown men in the military that is your warning

Pairing - Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Afab!Riley!Reader, John Price x Riley!Reader (Platonic)

Author's note - Soap is about 26, Reader is 24, Tommy is the name of Simon’s canon younger brother who later scares him with masks and anyways, just beware of that background. Pt.2 of this au, just this just shits and giggles background for later bc I dont know how to flesh out that cliffhanger I left in my Drabble, see you at the bottom! - Moon

Requests are open!

© moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

1. Simon knew that Johnny’s intention wasn’t to piss him off, but yet he still managed to feel a migraine pool behind his eyes. All day, every mission just asking question after question. Simon wondered if this is what it was like to have a stable home. All he had was you from day one his baby sister. His lips jerk upward before he cuts off the muscle reflex of what we know as a smile. He’d rather keel over and die than let Johnny see his eyes krinkle.

“I have a sister.” He grumbles. Everyone in the truck goes silent. Johnny’s jokes stop, Gaz smirks to himself, even Price manages to watch through the rearview mirror.

“Really? And you waited so long to tell me. Oh my god what’s the like. Oh is she pretty- wait don’t answer that, that’s weird if you agree…” Simon sighs to himself as he tunes out Johnny again. Oh he wishes holiday would come faster.

2. Holiday was tough. Even worse was being stuck alone over holiday break because your only family was stuck in an operation. Especially since you just got the news after putting up Christmas decoration.

“Really Simon? I got football on the telly, your presents are all wrapped” you whined. Simon grinned under his balaclava, oh how he wished he could be there to receive your annual gag gift.

“I know I know I know, assignment came late and everyone else has families to go home to so I just suggested myself-“ he tried to calm you down knowing this would only add gasoline.

“Dammit Si, I’m your family too! Im gonna give you a new buzz cut when you get home at the rate you’re going with all these sudden plans.” Your voice cracked at his name, you know he didn’t mean to break your heart. But Simon couldn’t bare to see Johnny, Price, or Gaz not go home to their big happy families.

“Yeah I know. Im yer brother. No getting out of that one.” He said. “Why don’t you stay with Price again this year. You know he loves you around”

“Because he is the only friend of yours that I’ve met-“

“Yeah you’ll meet the guys someday. promise.”

“Maybe for this holiday present?”

“Maybe.“

“yeah yeah yeah. I love you Si”

“Love you too, and I hope that second date of yours goes well this Friday” oh if only he knew how well that date went with your mysterious Scottish man.

3. “I thought you said you don’t kiss on the second date” Johnny grinned into your lips. Your hands all in his hair.

“Only if they don’t show promise” you remarked back. You could feel his bulge grinding through your pants in the back of this telephone booth. A soft groan leaving his lips as Johnny responded

“Oh so I show promise.” You could practically hear the grin as his lips trailed down your jaw and neck, the slight friction of his scruff following as he moved aside your dogtags.

“Yeah promise that if you don’t hush up, you won’t be getting anything” you quipped back as equally as smug

“Thought you were gonna call that brother of yers” he slurred back as he smelled your perfume. The man practically drooling as your nails trailed down his neck scratching. If he had a tail it’d be whipping the air. A whimper passing through the air as his bulge caught the right part of your fabric rubbing your clit in a delightful direction

“he can wait, I have something else to call for now” you said as you opened the door of the telephone booth and whistled (or yelled if you can’t) as loud as you could do to call a taxi. Johnny had a light in his eye that he never thought would spark until he met you.

Soon you would find out later that Simon actually COULD wait and he did, 12 whole hours he stayed up staring at your apartment door to be let in - fresh on holiday too. Maybe being motormouth’d by Johnny into the window of a hummer didn’t sound so bad now

4. Simon kept a photo of you and him in his pocket everywhere that you went. I mean everywhere. No matter the place. And a lighter too incase he was captured by enemies so as to not compromise his location. But it was a photo from a holiday in France. You were both pillow fighting in the bed. Messy hair, toothless grins, back when Mummy was alive and Daddy hadn’t shown his true colors. Tommy took that picture,. Simon holds it to remind him what he’s fighting for.

“Oh is that yer little sister, she’s missin a few teeth there” Johnny grins looking over the sniper’s shoulder.

“You’re about to miss some bones if you ask about my sister again” Simon growls. fuck. Johnny is the last person he needs around his sister. It’s not like Johnny was a womanizer - he was the opposite. Johnny was perfection. He was from a happy home, a stable home, a place where you wouldn’t have to remember what happened at that old house. It scared Simon to death imagining you forgetting about him. Then he’d really be alone.

“She must’ve gotten the good genes.” Gaz pipes into the coms, what an instigator.

“Wonder what she looks like in jeans” Soap hummed as he cleaned out his gun.

Ghost hummed to himself as he secretly folded up the photo and put it right back in the pocket over his heart. Maybe you could wait another year before meeting them.

Authors note - I made a part 2, this is unedited. Im so tired. I will flesh more of this out before I take another break I promise!! Xoxo - Moon

[cassatelle]

Three Times Buck Was a Little Brat and One Time Tommy Kissed Him Anyways

written for @bucktommypositivityweek Bingo prompts/squares: brat buck, buck's boils, s8 missing moments 500+ words, 3+1 things, fluff, G

1.

The door had barely clicked shut when Buck turned, giving Tommy a once-over before letting out a dramatic sigh.

“That shirt looks really good on you,” he said, voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer. “Reminds me of that date... you know, the one where I kissed you against the truck?”

His gaze lingered on Tommy’s lips, then shifted away, his pout perfectly exaggerated. “Too bad you think I’m gross now, you won’t kiss me anymore.”

Tommy frowned. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that, you're adorable.”

Buck huffed. “Right, sure,” he mumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as he bite back a grin.

2.

Buck was halfway through vacuuming when he spotted them on top of the shelf: the red and blue cones they’d snagged from Christopher’s birthday party. They were a bit squished, but Buck picked them up anyway, studying it for a second before turning his head toward the kitchen, where Tommy was washing their breakfast dishes.

“I miss when you used to think I was a vision in a cone,” he called, raising his voice just enough to catch his boyfriend’s attention. His smirk grew when he heard the clinking of dishes pause. “You probably think I’m disgusting now.”

Tommy sighed, glancing over his shoulder with a shake of his head. “No, I don’t. I still think you’re gorgeous.”

Buck just giving Tommy a look, tossing the party cones aside as he fought back a smile, watching Tommy roll his eyes with a fond smile of his own.

3.

“It’s almost done,” Tommy said, stirring the pot on the stove one last time. “Can you help set the plates, Ev?”

“You sure you want to eat with me? I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite,” Buck leaned back against the counter, folding his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “I can eat on the balcony, you know, keep my face out of your sight.”

Tommy turned around, eyebrows furrowed, wooden spoon still in hand. “Evan,” he sighed. “Really? We're still going with this?”

Buck shrugged, lips pressing into a full-fledged pout.

He might’ve thought he was getting away with it, too, until Tommy set the spoon down, closing the distance between them.

+1

Tommy stepped in close, eyes narrowing in that fond way that usually had Buck dropping the act. Only, this time, Buck held his ground, refusing to let go of his pout. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Oh, so now I’m gross and ridiculous.” Buck muttered, his tone dripping with wounded pride. “Guess it’s—”

He didn’t get to finish, because Tommy’s one hand slipping to Buck’s hip, the other coming up to his chin—tilting his head up with the gentlest touch, careful to not disturb the boils.

Tommy’s thumb traced along his jaw, and his lips curved into a soft smile before he leaned in, pressing his lips to Buck’s pouty lips, lingering just long enough to make his point.

When Tommy pulled back, Buck’s pout was gone, replaced by a smug little smile.

“There. Happy now?”

“Well, that would do for now.”

“Good. Say I think you’re gross one more time, and I’ll kiss you until we’re both out of breath.”

Buck’s grin spread wider, his gaze daring. “You think that’ll stop me?”

Tommy cracked a laugh, pulling him a little closer.

They both knew it wouldn’t.

congratulations for the #1 on fandom metrics bucktommy nations!🎉

[typicalopposite]

inspiration saturday <3

THANK YOU 3000 to the beautiful talented amazing @bidisasterevankinard for the tag :) now lets take it back to more

take me back - tommy amnesia fic - from ch 2

They release him a few hours later, and he orders an Uber to take him home— he can go get his truck later; he supposes he should take a couple days off anyway given… everything, anyway. He pushes his front door open and walks into the cold dark… empty house. Even though he hadn’t felt it in the moments between waking up in the garage and leaving for Evan's, the loneliness and heartbreak that has accumulated over the past year is felt as soon as his foot crosses the threshold. In the foyer, the framed 8x10 picture Evan took of them on his porch swing that used to be the first thing you see entering his house… is gone. 

Evan’s extra pair of running shoes are gone from the shoe rack. His Kiss The Chef apron is gone from the kitchen. His homemade almond milk is gone from the fridge. His toothbrush, and his drawers of clothes— plural because he often left his clothes and wore Tommy’s home— and his ‘your sheets suck, so I’m buying you a new set’, bed in a bag, early birthday gift is gone from his room… It is as if they never existed, just like Evan predicted. 

Except in Tommy’s head they just existed yesterday. In his head, yesterday they spent hours on the phone when they should have been resting between calls. They were making plans for what they planned to do to each other after their date. Tommy was dropping the box with the Lakers tickets off at the restaurant and making sure they were brought to the table before they arrived, so Evan wouldn’t see. Yesterday— only it was actually a year ago— Tommy was so fucking happy it sometimes overwhelmed him.  

He crawls into his bed, under the stiff sheets that smell like Tommy, and only him; he tangles himself within them and he allows himself to cry. He allows himself just this moment to grieve, to wallow, and to writhe from the sheer weight of it all until he feels like he is about to throw up… Then he allows the anger to seep in. He screams until his voice is hoarse and the wound in the back of his head is throbbing so strong a horse tranquilizer wouldn’t help him. He punches his pillow over and over until he misses a swing and catches the hard wood of the headboard. Then he reels his hand back and punches at that same spot until his knuckles bleed. 

He draws his hand up to his chest, skin broken and aching just like his heart, and finally allows himself to go numb. He lays on his side and zones out, staring at nothing until darkness creeps into his vision and he falls asleep… 

“Yesterday” he was hopeful this time just might be different. Today he knows he was wrong. 

no pressure tags! @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @judymarch15 @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction

@lavenderleahy @kinardsevan @onthewaytosomewhere

and for those following along @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @marvelousbuckley @leashybebes @saibowtie

@portinastorm @beanarie @hyperfocusthusly @ladyeyrewrites @theotherbuckley @unhingedangstaddict

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @sierrarreads @fenrirscarsback

(lemme know if you want to be taken off or added <3)

[louisferrignojr]

*deep breath*

the thing is. the fucking thing is.

it's not unrealistic for someone to not dig deeper into their queer identity beyond what they know to be true, which might be "yeah i might be attracted to people of the same gender but i dont have time to get into that right now 'cause life is complicated and i'm in a relationship/i'm not interested in dating right now anyway so what does it matter"

(same goes for figuring out your gender identity. exhibit A:

[image description: a tweet by shaka (@/ScaredAsian) that says, “im probably nonbinary but i have a job so idrc about that rn”. In plain text, it says, “I’m probably nonbinary but I have a job so I don’t really care about that right now.” /end id])

but this doesn't work for evan buckley

who had his little freakout on his first date with tommy and went to talk to his sister who literally told him "now you're more than an ally" and that maybe he's not sure of his feelings but he'll figure them out. (sidenote: she should have said identity instead of feelings. but whatever.)

who has been in a relationship with his boyfriend for six months

who has been known to go on research binges because he has a curious mind and loves learning. tommy's sarcastic "oh good, you found a substack" tells us everything we need to know, y'all.

who has at least one very close queer friend and co-worker, hen fucking wilson; and one friend/acquaintance who is a queer man (we don't know how much he sees josh outside of visiting maddie at dispatch, and like, that one time he hang out with him and maddie and chimney, so it's a little bit up to fanon to decide if they're friend-friends but at the end of the day it is a trusted person and an openly gay man. i mean, we saw how josh stood up for tommy, and schooled the fuck out of buck. finally, a conversation about being queer between two canonically queer characters! only took 8 seasons, huh! i digress.)

and have i mentioned he's been dating his boyfriend for six months? like, if he was ever to have a conversation about being queer... tommy is right there. tommy opened up about his own experience figuring out his sexuality and coming out on their very first date and moreover reassured buck it's okay if he's feeling a little tense about them being out on a date in a public place.

point being: there are people in his life who would be more than happy to talk to him about his newfound identity outside of his relationship with tommy.

taking all of these things into consideration: it's not only inconsistent with the character they have established, but the timeline of it is also really fucking messed up.

and more than that: any faith i may have had in this show to handle a delicate matter like a character exploring their newfound sexuality has flown out the window. they broke the audience's trust with 8x06. i'm not interested in seeing how they're going to move this story forward, because 8x06 was such a particular fuck up, beginning to end, wrt the bucktommy storyline.

and honestly? knowing the format 911 follows, as a network procedural: this is not the right medium to tell this story, at this point in the timeline, because it has become way more complicated than it would have been in s7, immediately following buck's bisexual awakening.

tldr: the premise is sound but the execution is so bad it's practically unsalvageable within the scope of the show (but very manageable in fanfiction, where you can dwell in the character's headspace and dig into what goes on beyond the things they say and do. godspeed, everyone <3)

partly inspired by @firehose118's tags on their post and partly like, being queer. source: dude trust me

[newtkive]

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

[bucktommyscones]

Family Meeting

@bucktommypositivityweek Day 3-Meeting the friends and family. I kind of twisted it a bit, but I still hope you guys like it. It's another addition to the girl dad's Buck and Tommy and their daughter Alex universe.

bucktommy - Words: 1,055 - Rating: General - Complete

Tommy stares down at the little person in his arms, runs a light finger down her cheek, and marvels at this little person they made with the help of their surrogate.

Evan comes into the room with a bottle and stops, blinking slowly.

“Hey,” Tommy prompts. “You okay?”

Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, I just…you two are so gorgeous,” he says softly. “I had a husband, which wow, okay? And now I have this daughter that I get to raise with said husband. It’s a little…”

“Crazy?” Tommy supplies with a grin and Evan smiles back.

“A little bit,” Evan admits. “But in a good way. If you told 26 year old me that I’d be 35, married and a parent, I would have you committed.”

Tommy laughs just as there’s a knock on the door.

“Oh, they’re here,” Evan says. He hands the bottle to Tommy. “It’s too bad she wouldn’t eat earlier. No one will be able to hold her until she’s finished.”

“It’s okay.” Tommy looks down at her little face sucking on the nipple of the bottle. “They’ll be happy to wait.”

Evan’s grin is soft as he watches them and there’s another knock on the door.

“Right! I’ll go let everyone in,” Evan says. He leans down and kisses Tommy gently, then Alex’s forehead.

They’d decided to wait until they got home with her before introducing her to everyone. The only people who have met her so far are Maddie and Eddie and though they’d felt bad making everyone else wait, they’d wanted to make sure their surrogate, Ashley, was comfortable and Alex was out of the hospital before introducing her to the rest of the 118 family, as well as Lucy Donato, who has been a fixture in helping Tommy feel better about the prospect of raising a girl when his nerves got to be too much.

The first one in the living room is Maddie, who holds her hands to her chest and coos. “Hi little niece,” she says and Tommy grins as she bends down to give the baby a kiss on the cheek. “It’s auntie Maddie. You’re just as gorgeous as you were a few days ago.”

“Isn’t she?” Evan says, trailing behind the rest of the group as they make their way into the living room. Like he always does when the whole group is together, Tommy is glad they bought a bigger house before they got married, if only to fit everyone inside it.

“She’s really beautiful,” Lucy says, coming and wrapping her arm around Tommy’s shoulders, squeezing him in a gentle side hug.

“My goodness,” Bobby says, holding Athena’s hand. “You guys are very lucky. I’m proud of you.”

Tommy looks at Evan, who looks like he might cry.

“Thank you, Bobby,” Evan says and glances at the bottle Alex is still working on. “She’s almost done eating. Does anyone want to burp her?”

“I will!” Hen and Karen both say at the same time. Everyone laughs and Hen and Karen do a quick round of rock, paper, scissors, with Hen winning.

“Yes!” she cheers and Karen nudges her with an elbow good-naturedly.

“Have you guys gotten much sleep?” Chimney asks knowingly and Tommy snorts.

“What do you think?”

Chimney grins. “Sounds right for a Buckley-Kinard baby.”

“I know right?” Evan says. They’d done a mix of both of their sperm for the surrogacy so they don’t know for sure who the biological father is, not that either of them cares. That was the whole point anyway, though Tommy can’t help but think he sees Evan in her, around the eyes. He wonders if Evan thinks the same.

Alex finishes her bottle and Tommy kisses her head and passes her off to Hen, giving her a little burp cloth to put over her shoulder.

“Oh hello, sweet girl,” Hen coos as she begins burping her. Karen runs her fingers over the sparse hair on Alex’s head and smiles when she lets out a little burp.

“Ah, burping should not be so cute,” she says with a laugh.

“Everything about her is cute,” Evan says dreamily.

“Even two am diaper changes?” Eddie asks, amused.

“Yes, even those,” Evan insists and Tommy grins at him. As Alex finishes her burping, she’s gently passed around their family, and Evan settles next to Tommy on the couch, a hand on Tommy’s thigh. They listen to everyone coo over her and Tommy looks at his husband, marvels at this man he’s still building a life with over and over again.

Evan notices him staring and looks at him, eyes glinting with amusement and affection. “What?”

“I just really love you, Evan Kinard. Thank you for doing this with me,” he answers. He cups his face and kisses him softly and no one notices the PDA because everyone is still enamored with Alex, as they should be honestly.

“I love you too,” Evan says. “Thank you. I still can’t believe it’s real.”

“Me neither,” Tommy admits. “Want to spend the rest of our lives staring at how real it is in the face?”

Evan’s grin is incandescent. “Oh yeah. Everything with you, you know that."

Tommy does know that. He's about to kiss his husband again when a familiar cry rings out and Evan gets up to take her from Lucy.

"I didn't do it!" Lucy says, a little panicked, and Tommy can't help but laugh at his normally calm, capable friend being afraid of a tiny baby.

"She's a newborn," Maddie says knowingly. "It happens."

Tommy watches Evan cradle their little girl in his arms, swaying back and forth and cooing at her.

Eddie plops down beside him on the couch. "Your face looks ridiculous right now."

Tommy snorts. "I'm sure it does. Can you blame me?"

"Not at all." Eddie looks toward Evan and Alex, the latter having calmed down to gentle baby noises.

"All right, Buck," Eddie says, standing up again. "My turn. Hand her over."

Evan does, and then he turns to the group. "Hey, Tommy and I want to thank you for everything. You guys have kept us sane during this whole process and we really appreciate it."

"Of course, Buck," Bobby says. "We're all here when you need us."

Evan smiles, walks over, and takes the hand Tommy's holding out for him. "We know."

[marvelobsessed134]

oh please do a part 3 of sneaking around

Where Tommy starts to catch on

Finding his daughter's clothing in Nikki's truck when him and Nikki go to town to get food

And then a few weeks later the crüe are having a concert in LA

Tommy's daughter and Nikki hook up again backstage in Nikki's dressing room

She gives him a bj for the first time and he eats her out before bending her over fucking her and just as he cums inside her

Tommy walks in the dressing room catching them. He's like WTF bro that's my daughter I'm going to kick your ass

Nikki takes off running butt naked down the hallway backstage Tommy not far behind after him 😂

Sneaking around part three: final part

Pairings: current!Nikki Sixx x fem!reader, current!Tommy Lee x fem!daughter!reader

A/n: last part of this little series. Read part one here and part two here

Warnings: brief smut, age gap, protective dad Tommy, chaotic as hell, kinda crack fic? Wholesome father-daughter moment in the end.

So far your father has not found out about the passionate love affair you have with his best friend and band mate.

Or so you thought.

Without you or Nikki knowing (obviously), Tommy found your panties in Nikki’s truck. He had starts to catch on. But he was also in a state of disbelief and decided to wait and see if the two of you were really fucking.

And then Motley had a show in LA and of course you were there. And of course you were in Nikki’s dressing room sucking him off.

“Ah fuck, such a good girl. Good little cocksucker.” He groaned as he watched you bob your head up and down along his shaft.

“Shit! Gonna cum!” The bassist hissed. And just when he sent his release down your throat your father walked in.

Your eyes widened and stood up immediately running to the corner of the room as if that was going to do anything.

“What the fuck? I knew it. I fucking knew it! I knew you were fucking my daughter behind my back!” Your dad was pissed.

Nikki tried to explain the situation as best he could but as Tommy started to walk towards him to-presumably-fight, the other older man ran out the door butt naked. Now in any other situation you’d be laughing your ass off but right now it wasn’t so funny. Tommy ran after him after pointing at you and said, “You and I are gonna talk about this later.”

You stood there, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. It was only a couple minutes before Nikki came back in the room you literally had no idea what happened.

He put his stage gear back on and walked up to you, “Don’t worry I didn’t kill him.” And you laughed a bit.

“I am so confused. What just happened?” You asked.

“I can say the same. But I think he’s calmed down now since Brittany pulled him in the dressing room to talk some sense into him.”

“I know she knew about us but she never said anything and was silently supportive. Hopefully she’ll be able to make him see our side.”

“Hopefully.”

After the show you were alone in the dressing room since Nikki was talking to the venue owners when your dad came in.

You turned around quickly with wide eyes and he put his hands up in defense.

“Hey, I’m only wanting to talk.” The drummer explained and you calmed a bit.

The two of you sat down on the couch and he let you explain what was going on. And you reminded him that you’re an adult now and can make your own decisions and that he’s a hypocrite because he’s definitely fucked some of his friends 19 year old daughters before he met your step mom.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “If he makes you happy then…I guess I don’t have any say in it. And if I say not to hook up with him you’re gonna do it anyway aren’t you?”

You gave a sly chuckle, “You know it dad.”

“If he hurts you let me know so I can beat his ass. Now come here.” He opened his arms up and you hugged him tightly.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too dad.”

[theotherbuckley]

Im in love with this fic and i need more

🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵

You're an amazing writer btw 🩷🪱

Thank you! I'm glad people are liking this fic 🥰

Here's 900 more words just for you <3

🦵 - Buck and Tommy meet at physio after the truck bombing

Tommy isn’t there at his next physio appointment — now only seeing his physiotherapist once every two weeks, unlike Buck who still has to see her every week. The session feels slower than normal; it always does when he’s alone. Bobby promised him that next time he would be able to come with, but today, there’s no one, not even Tommy, to chat with afterwards. 

Dr Mistry seems to sense his subdued mood and has taken to being far more cheerful than he can ever recall.

“Why are you so happy?” he asks, slumping down into his chair after she had given his leg a deep and rather unpleasant massage. 

Dr Mistry turns to him, shooting him a look which he doesn’t care to decipher. “You are quiet. It’s unsettling.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, staring at his doctor. “Hey, I don’t talk that much.”

“You haven’t even complained one time.”

And okay, that’s fair, but still. 

“I’m just tired,” Buck tells her. It’s not even a lie. He is tired. He’s always tired. He’s just a little spacey today. He’s been feeling quite defeated lately. Sometimes, it feels like all of his hard work is for nothing. His leg still aches like bitch whenever the weather changes, and he only just managed to complete the full length of the bar unaided last session, far behind where he should have been at this point. He’s trying so hard to get better, to work again, but it doesn’t matter how much effort he puts in, it’s never enough. He’s never enough. 

And when there’s nobody with him to tell his brain to shut up, he gets stuck inside his head, and he doesn’t quite know how to get out of it. 

It’s exhausting. 

So he’s tired. He really, really is. 

It’s just a type of tiredness that he doesn’t think he can recover from. Not until his leg is recovered, at least. 

Dr Mistry looks at him for a moment, her eyes scanning over his face, hyperanalysing his expressions as though she can see right down into his soul, see all of those helpless thoughts running around in his head. “There’s doctors for that,” she says, and Buck doesn’t have to ask what she means. 

“I don’t need therapy,” Buck says back, a little too defensively. He’s probably lying, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s fine. He will be. It just takes time, isn’t that what everyone keeps saying?

“It’s not healthy to keep everything stuck inside. Sometimes it is good to let it all out,” she continues, ignoring his slight outburst. 

“I have people. It’s just— It’s hard when they’re not around.”

She nods in understanding but hands him a card anyway. “Just think about it.”

He takes the card begrudgingly and sticks it in his wallet, where he knows he’s not going to touch it again. He doesn’t need help. He just needs to be able to walk— to work. He’ll be fine after that. 

As soon as he gets home, he takes the card out of his wallet and stares at it. 

And then he texts Tommy. 

Buck: Have you ever seen a therapist?

Tommy: Hi Tommy how are you

I’m great thank you for asking

Buck: Yeah yeah

Answer the question

Tommy: I have

Buck: And? 

My doctor wants me to see one

But I don’t want to

Especially not after last time

I’m not that guy anymore

Tommy: Not what guy?

Buck: Not the guy who sleeps with his therapist

Tommy: I’m not sure if I should ask

Buck: Probably best

So..?

Tommy: Therapy helped me

I wasn’t a great guy before

Buck almost scoffs at his phone. Tommy the guy who drove him home and helped him up multiple flights of stairs, whilst injured, on their first meeting, wasn’t a good guy?

Buck: You? Be honest

Tommy: I wasn’t

Turns out repressing my sexuality and listening to what my father taught me is not a good combination

Hurt a lot of people because of it

But therapy helped

I’m comfortable being myself now

Buck has to pause at that. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it, he just didn’t really expect it. Maybe that’s not a good thing to say. He’s an ally, actually. The rainbow flag in his bio every June proves that. 

Buck: Wait

You’re gay?

Tommy: I am, yeah. Is that a problem?

Buck: No of course not! Men are hot.

Tommy: Mmhmm  

Buck: So you think I should do it?

Tommy: Do what?

Buck: See a therapist

Tommy: I don’t know, Evan

That’s up to you

But if your doctor suggested it, maybe you should listen

Buck: And I don’t need to sleep with them?

Tommy: You definitely do not.

Even after the conversation, Buck can’t bring himself to dial the number on the card. His stomach rumbles after a while, and Buck looks at his watch, mildly surprised to find it past 3 pm. He drops the card on the coffee table, and hobbles to the kitchen with his cane to make himself some food. 

When he sits back down, his mind is focused on queer history, and he finds himself googling pride and forgetting all about therapy. It wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

[absolutewhore101]

Should've Said No - Chapter 4

A/N: sorry this one is so late! last week got busy very quickly, and i just didn't have the time to sit down and write this. i hadn't originally planned on writing this chapter, but the idea hit me in the car while i was driving earlier, so here we are. (hint at next chapter at the very end!)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Listen to 'Should've Said No' by Taylor Swift

Warnings: swearing, assholery

Word Count: 733 words

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

MINORS DNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joel’s head slowly turned back to face you, a fire in his eyes you’d never seen directed at you.

Before he could open his mouth, you started talking again. 

“Can you believe Joel? Everything we used to have - the songs, the smiles, the flowers - it’s all gone! All because you couldn’t keep it in your pants!”

“Is that all?”

“God, ugh! I just… I can’t even look at you.”

“Look, I’d take it back if I could. It was a moment of weakness and we both know that. Hell, what was I supposed to do?!”

“You should’ve said no! You should’ve thought twice, maybe with more than just your dick! I should’ve been there, right in the back of your mind, and I shouldn’t be standing here asking myself why the fuck you’d do this!”

Joel took a step forward, but Tommy stepped in the middle of you two.

“I wouldn’t get much closer to her.” He said, voice low. 

“Oh for the love of god, Tommy. You knew, too! Don’t stand here and try to play hero when you knew damn well what was going on.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Tommy said, turning to face you, “but it wasn’t my place to say anything. That was between you and Joel, not me. I’m sorry.”

“No. No you don’t get to be sorry. Joel might’ve done this to me, but you didn’t even try to help. You could’ve tried talking to him, you could’ve stopped him, you could’ve just told me! But instead you let this go on, knowing how much it would hurt me.”

Tommy’s eyes landed on the ground in front of your feet, his hands on his hips.

When he looked up again, tears were streaming down your cheeks. 

“Baby, c’mon…” Joel trailed off. 

You shook your head, taking a step back from the two of them. 

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that we could ever be the same? After everything you put me through?” 

Joel shook his head. “We don’t gotta be the same, we just gotta work through this and come out better on the other side. We can do that, can’t we?”

“No. You should’ve known that I would’ve found out eventually. I’m not stupid, y’know. Even if you hadn’t been so obvious about it, someone would’ve told me eventually.” 

“Was she worth it?” Tommy said, breaking the tense silence that had settled between the three of you.

“Excuse me?” Joel answered. 

“Tommy.” You said sternly. “This isn’t your place, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

“Might not be my place, but that doesn't mean I can’t ask him what the hell he was thinking.” Tommy turned around to face Joel, stepping into his space. 

Joel held his eye, bringing his arms up to cross his arms over his chest. 

“You wanna do this right now? Right in front of her?” 

“I don’t think I’m the one who deserves an apology.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, slowly nodding his head. 

“I don’t think she wants to hear my apology. Do you?”

You thought about it. An apology wouldn’t undo what he did, but wouldn’t it give you some kind of closure? Or was your closure the end of your relationship?

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

You gave him a smug smirk, watching him shake his head. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. Happy?”

“No. But as long as you don’t step foot in my house again I will be.”

Tommy nodded his head. 

“You can move into a new house tomorrow. Why don’t you stay with Carly tonight? I’m sure she’d love it.” Tommy gave him a smirk, watching Joel’s hands clenched into fists by his side.

Joel stalked off without another word, heading for the house just a few down from your own. 

“Motherfucker.” You muttered, and Tommy chuckled. 

Tommy looked over his shoulder at you, something akin to sympathy in his eyes. 

“Can I walk you home?”

“Absolutely not. You’re not off the hook just because you made a stand against Joel. It’s gonna take a lot more than that if you ever want to be friends again.” You told him, pushing past him and walking towards your house. 

As you closed your front door behind you, you couldn’t help but ask yourself - why couldn’t he just be a better man?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@callmecath1

@kikaaauu

@orcasoul

@hiddenbabynyc

@elliaze

@o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[bekolxeram]

I had an idea of Buck finding out who Maurice was through Athena months ago. No one gave me that fic, I guess I'd better feed myself. I've never written any fic before, (You read that right, I don't mean for this fandom, I've never written any fic in my life) so I was planning for a short little humorous piece. Well, I'm around 2/3 of the way done, and it's already over 2.5k words long. I don't think I'll able to finish it in the very near future, and I still don't have an AO3 account, so I decide to share the first half of it with you? To give myself the motivation to keep writing?

I just want to get my ideas out there, I'll probably correct the grammar and refine the word choices when I finish the whole thing. Please enjoy and give me feedback. (Gently, it's my first time writing anything fictional outside of high school English exam)

The first time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at Chimney and Maddie’s hospital wedding.

Neither his sister nor his now brother-in-law had much luck in love. Murderous ex, surprise pregnancy, all sorts of trauma, mental health struggle, break up, make up, you name it, they had been through it all. Even on their wedding day, the universe decided to sprinkle in a little viral encephalitis as a last minute wedding gift. Any other couple would have taken all this as a sign of destiny’s disapproval of their relationship, but not Chimney and Maddie. Life kept trying to set them apart, but they chose to get back together, time and time again. Even when they were deep in delirium, when they had lost all sense of self, they always instinctively crawled back to one another, like it was in their very nature to love each other.

Buck agreed with his mother, getting married at a hospital was indeed appropriate. Plenty of newlyweds said their vows just for the sake of traditions, but when Maddie and Chimney pledged to their lives to each other, in sickness and in health, they had their entire relationship to back it up.

Buck was ecstatic, when Bobby pronounced them officially married. He envisioned how the day would be panning out quite differently, but he could not complain. Sure, he would prefer to have his date by his side, but as a firefighter himself, he understood the safety of the city was more important than his own feelings. If anything, on that day, he learned that life would not always let you have your dream wedding, or your dream date, but as long as you treasure and prioritize each other, everything would work out in the end.

Then Tommy walked into the hospital, still in his turnout gear, covered in soot, all apologetic.

Buck just knew he had to close their distance, taste the alluring flavor of smoke straight from his lips.

Tommy came, without stopping by to get changed or to wash up, because the wedding was important to Buck, because he promised to come. Buck once thought duty and romance was a question of either/or, but Tommy made enough of an effort to make them both work.

Buck knew very well how dirty his face must have been after making out aggressively with his date, but he did not care one bit. He had not been this happy for so long, he wanted everyone in the room to see how elated he was. He wanted to wear his happiness on his face.

He briefly congratulated the newlyweds. His sister, like the caretaker she was, pulled out a baby wipe for him to clean up his lower face. He tried his best to wipe off all the soot, then he took a piece a cake and started looking around the room for his date. He found Tommy having a conversation with the Wilsons.

“Hey,” Buck put his hand on Tommy’s lower back, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just what an entrance you two have made,” Hen said with a smirk. Karen was struggling to hide her chuckle.

“Look at him, can you blame me?” Buck gazed adoringly at Tommy, “I was planning to show him off on the dancefloor anyway.”

“You’re full of surprise, Evan, you know that?” Tommy smiled, the ocean blue in his eyes filled Buck’s heart with affection.

“I’m sure it went a lot better than the last time you tried kissing someone in front of me,” Hen interrupted, with a devilish grin.

“Huh?” Tommy reacted, puzzled.

“Maurice.” The Wilsons were fully giggling at this point.

“Oh no.” Tommy covered half of his face with one of his hands, seemingly embarrassed by Hen’s teasing, “You guys are never going to let me live this down, aren’t you?”

The conversation kept flowing, but Buck was deafened by the thousands of questions in his head.

Who’s Maurice? Why have I never heard of him? Why was Tommy trying to kiss him? In front of Hen too? Was he Tommy’s crush? Who rejected him? No, were they… together?

“Evan?” Tommy noticed Buck’s lapse in focus.

“Uh… yes… yes, Tommy?”

“The cake?” Tommy pointed at the piece of dessert in Buck’s hand.

“Sure… Of course.” Buck handed the plate over. He really wanted to find out more about this Maurice, but at the same time, he recognized the recency of his budding romance with Tommy. Tommy would get around to mentioning this mysterious figure from his past eventually, Buck thought, so he decided to let it go for now.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m starving.” Tommy explained, while shoving a sizable chunk of wedding cake into his mouth. “Mmm, this is so good. This is everything I’ve been waiting for.” This man loved his cake, even the soot and fatigue on his face could not hide the genuine joy radiating from his face, in all its crinkly, wrinkly glory.

“The cake huh? Is that all?” Buck asked, flirtatiously.

Tommy flirted back, with his signature deadpan expression but burning lust in his eyes, “Well, I have to refuel my body before engaging in whatever activities await us tonight.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat, probably from the sudden rush of blood down south. Yeah, Maurice could wait.

The second time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at the medal ceremony.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

Not only did none of them get fired, they were all given medals for borrowing LAFD property and leading a pre-authorized rescue mission off the coast of Mexico. None of that would have been possible without the pilot. Yes, all of them played their part in saving Bobby and Athena from the sinking cruise ship, but Tommy in particular put his career, even his own life at risk just to help a few old colleagues he had not seen for years, just because there might be people in need. Judge him all you want, but seeing Tommy on that stage, being awarded for his skills and heroism, Buck simply could not conceal the fondness and enamorment written all over his face. Bobby and Athena being alive and well, looking like a classic Hollywood power couple, was obviously the most important part, Buck told himself. Although, Tommy being appreciated for the absolute ace he was, while in his dress blue, came as a close second.

The way the rigid fabric splayed across the pilot’s strong muscular body, buttons holding on for dear life against his bulging pecs, pants just tight enough to accentuate the curvature of his glutes, a feature Buck found enticing in all genders. Buck was not alone in ogling the real life erotic fantasy in front of him, about that he was sure, but he took comfort in knowing he was the only one there who got to touch this body, to worship it, to savor every inch of it, to feel it against his own. He might have almost missed his own call to the stage because he was too busy gawking at his boyfriend.

He was looking forward to celebrate this moment with his loved ones, maybe a little foreplay in costume with Tommy too, until Gerrard showed up and ruined everything.

Upon spotting the former 118 captain, Tommy looked as if he had seen a ghost.

The second Gerrard made a limp wrist gesture at Tommy, insinuating a homophobic slur, Buck realized he was more than an ignorant old man. He barely skirted the edge of blatant bigotry just to abuse his targets while staying on the side of possible deniability. If he used merely 10% of his brain power allocated for creative insults, Los Angeles would be a much safer place.

Tommy was clearly upset after their unexpected encounter with Gerrard. He was forking the food on his plate, without eating any, then abruptly, he stood up, “I don’t feel like eating these right now. I’m gonna get some cake, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Buck gave him a forced smile and a small peck to his temple, then he sent his boyfriend to his beloved sweet treat.

“I’m worried about him,” Buck turned to Chimney, “I’ve never seen him like this before, being so… small.”

“Working under Gerrard was not exactly a fun time worth keeping in your memory” Chimney sighed. “Like most of us, it took Tommy a long time and a lot of soul searching to become who he is right now. He did have a fat head back in the days, but I can’t say I blame the guy. Sometimes you do things you’ll regret further down the road just to survive at the moment.”

“Yeah… he told me the 118 was a regressive place back then.”

“Gerrard isn’t just another asshole, he’s an asshole with power, particularly power over his people’s safety. Tommy almost died because of him.”

“I know… Gas explosion, right? He said you saved his life.”

“I guess I did, but hey, Gerrard only gave me one month of KP duty as a reward, so that was a plus,” Chimney snickered, sarcastically.

“He punished you for saving Tommy’s life?” Buck never fully grasped the injustice, mistreatment, and suffering his loved ones faced under Gerrard’s reign of terror. He made a mental note to thank Bobby later for his gentle fatherly guidance.

“That’s who he is, Buck. All power trip, no leadership. I’ve never seen Tommy so scared of somebody,” Chimney continues, “except maybe... Maurice.”

Maurice, this name again. Buck still knew close to nothing about this cryptic individual.

Tommy was very upfront about how abrasive his was in his youth. Having to desperately hide his true self from his abusive father, then intolerant military policy, and finally his homophobic superior, he had learned very early on that the best defense was a solid offense. He was cold, distant, downright rude to anyone and everyone who tried getting too close, to the truth, to his desire, to his heart. So if Tommy was reluctant to share the parts of his life that he was less than proud of, Buck would not try to pry… At least until Chimney told him how fearful Tommy was of Maurice.

“Who…” Just as Buck opened his mouth, his brother in law rose from his seat, grabbing the red wine filled glass with him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this wine to my wife.”

As soon as Chimney left, Tommy returned with a piece of cake in his hand and a subtle smile on his face.

“Heyy-” Tommy greeted Buck in his usual playful tone.

“Hey, feeling better?” Buck was relieved, sensing Tommy’s change of mood.

“Um…” Tommy looked down, seemingly pondering. Then he retook the seat he previously occupied, the one right next to Buck, and hooked one of his feet under his boyfriend’s chair. He gave the chair a swift, firm tug, and in the blink of an eye, the physical distance between them vanished.

“Now I am,” Tommy murmured with his deep, gravelly voice.

Just like that, the rest of the room ceased to exist for Buck. No Gerrard, no Maurice, only Tommy. Buck’s fingers slowly slid towards the strong, burly thigh leaning against his own, but Tommy stopped him on his track, by grabbing his inquisitive hand.

“This is not exactly... appropriate for work, don’t you think?”, Tommy said, without letting go of Buck. “People may have questions if they see us.” His grip tightened, just enough to reignite the fervent desire building up between them since the start of the day. “Hen and Karen asked me just now about my intentions with you, if they are…” He looked down at the shinny medal currently decorating his boyfriend’s chest, and used his free hand to adjust the ribbon, “honorable.”

“And what did you say?” Buck asked breathlessly, almost panting.

“I told them, we’re taking it very slow…” Tommy inched closer and closer. “You’re taking the lead, I’m just trying to keep up…” His lips ghosted over Buck’s cheek, then he whispered into his ear, “Where should we go now?”

Buck responded by simply dragging Tommy onto the station rooftop. With the “no visitors” sign blocking the stairs, it was the perfect place for some private pastime.

[joviepog]

EEE HI JOVIE again i love love your writing and im so glad youve been enjoying my stuff!! anyway, sweet and simple request-- wilbur and reader having an at home dinner night :)) (if u wanna make it silly tommy could be their "waiter" LMAO)

much love !!

EEK I LOVEE THIS IDEA! ITS SO SIMPLE BUT SO GOOD AHHHHHH

-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡—♡-♡-♡-♡-

Lovely night

Who: Wilbur x f!reader

Warnings: i dont think there is anything but if there is just let me know!

Pronouns: She / they

Word count: I have no clue

Requests: @poraphia

Anything’s else: I actually liked how this turned out! thanks for the idea lovely requester!

This story is NOT proofread

Listen to this while you read! <3

Both you and Wilbur aren’t the richest people around. For you, this was absolutely fine. But for Wilbur?

Well, Wilbur is just a bit disappointed about not being able to spoil you as much as he wants. Since you both have met, he’s been obsessed with getting you little gifts and taking you to cute dates. But what he really wants to do is to be able to take you to the fancy restaurant down the street from your guy’s apartment.

He’s told you about this little problem of his and you cant help but giggle every time he mentions it. The conversation always ends with a kiss on the cheek and the same six words. “Wil, i dont need all that!” But lately he wont stop talking about it. He’s been daydreaming about you in a fancy dress and him in a fancy tux. Not the old cheep one he has for all those dumb occasions. No, he wants to be able to give you a bouquet of roses and a ring that means forever. But most of all, he wants to make you happy.

You’ve noticed that this was starting to get to him. Every time you got home he would give you a kiss and a hug -per usual- then he would start talking about this dress he saw on twitter and how beautiful it would look on you. “And that dress would be perfect for that restaurant!” And every time you say that you dont need all that, he looks like a kid being rejected of a puppy.

And so, you set up a plan. While he was gone on tour, you saved up, took cooking classes, and learned how to do your best makeup possible. You called him up one night, “Hi Wil! Are you busy?” There was a slight pause and he spoke quietly, “No, i just have to be quiet.” You gave a soft laugh and spoke quietly. “I just wanted to make sure i have the right day for when your coming back.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Why?” You pouted, “Why? What, I can’t miss my boyfriend?”

He apologized at least 100 times before he woke Joe up. You said hi to Joe and hung up. “I love you Wil. See you soon?” You asked with a smile. “See you soon.” You hung up and silence fell on the room. You had 1 more week. You bought the dress he had mentioned 1,000 times, you made sure Tommy was free, and you made sure the house was clean. You were ready.

-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

“I’m two hours away.” he spoke and you could hear the boys in the back teasing him.

you fake sighed, “I guess i’ll just wait here. all alone, and sad, and-“

he stopped you, “Yeah i’ll try to hurry up.”

“No take your time, darling.”

he sighed, “All i want to do is get home and hug you.”

“Aweeee.” you put another fake eyelash on, “I miss you too baby.”

“Wilbur! The taxy is here!”

you laughed and he scoffed, “I’ll see you soon darling.”

“See you soon.” you hung up and looked at yourself in the mirror. you looked amazing. you hair was fixed, and the dress fit nicely just like wilbur said it would. everything was perfect.

2 hours: Tommy got there with a suit and a tie that was ties badly

1 hour 30 minutes: You and tommy set the table and clean the house. you fail to figure out how to tie tommy’s tie

1 hour: you start dinner and Tommy calls phil to help him tie his tie.

30 mins: you finish up dinner and you get out wilbur’s favorite wine

20 mins: you double check everything for 10 minutes

10 mins: you wake up Tommy from his nap and cehck to make sure you look good.

5 mins: you triple check that you look okay and you serve the food.

1 minute: You light the candles

0 mins: You hear a knock.

“Is that him?!?” you say with a cheerful smile. Tommy smiles, “No it’s the mailman.” he jokes. you roll your eyes and open the door. Wilbur has the biggest smile on his face and he’s holding flowers. You close the door behind you, not wanting to ruin the surprise, and jump into his arms. he gives you small kisses all around your face and neck; your giggling at his touch. he finally lets you go and you were so excited to see his reaction.

His eyes widen at the sight of you in the dress and he begins to ask questions. “YN? Where did you-“ you stopped him and grabbed his arm, interlocking your arm in his. you yelled out to tommy, “Ready!” tommy opens the door and the smell of delicious food swept through the door.

The sight of warm lighting and wine glasses were shows on the small table. Warm jazz music was playing and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of Wilbur. His mouth was agape and his eyes completely widened. He turned to look at Tommy, who had his hair slicked back and a napkin on his arm (still holding the door open he cleared his throat.) “Welcome Mr. Gold and Ms. LN. I have your table ready right over there. He nudged his head towards the table and you and Wilbur walked in. Tommy quickly close the door and pulled out the chairs for both you and Wilbur.

Wilbur sat down, still in shock, and looked at his plate. Tommy spoke up, “You see, we already served you food because your girlfriend here, preordered. Wilbur laughed and Tommy grabbed the wine glass. “Tell me when to stop.” He started to pour the wine and Wilbur told him to stop about halfway, you did the same.

“Anything else?” Tommy asked.

“That’ll be all. Thank you.” Tommy winked at you and nodded his head. As he walked away you turned back to Wilbur. “So?” His mouth is still slightly open but soon enough, his cheeky smile appeared back on his face.

“Well, i feel like I’m a bit underdressed.” You both laughed and spent the rest of the night talking while Tommy took photos of both of you.

What a lovely night.

[lemonzestywrites]

late tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by - @hippolotamus @devirnis

hi besties! wasn’t able to get to post a tease tidbit yesterday so i’m taking this instead as a chance to post today for a wip wednesday :) just cause!

anyways i’ve been in my 🪻buddietommy🪻feels again so here’s a little treat of that in the meantime!!

(nsfw beneath the cut!!)

=====

“He was practically rutting against my thigh this morning thinking about it,” Buck murmurs.

Something leaps inside Eddie’s throat. So close to being shame, but this sensation feels so much more than that. That sweet trickle cascading down his spine of pure want and need. The way Eddie craved and desired so badly.

That’s why they even put this into motion in the first place. Cause every inch and fiber of Eddie’s being couldn’t help but just want more.

And thankfully, the two most attractive men he knows in the greater Los Angeles area are both more than happy to fuck him senseless about it.

Tommy's eyes glint in a soft darkly way. “Yeah?” he asks, his thumb brushing along Eddie’s bottom lip. Fuck, Eddie’s so close to just leaning in and taking it between his lips.

Above him, Buck hums. “Mhmm.”

“You let him come?”

A fire erupts beneath Eddie’s skin at the thought of it now, taking in the syrupy delight that floods his veins. Buck was very pointed on not letting him get off, telling Eddie to save it for Tommy.

Hot arousal screams in his body from just how much he likes this passé humiliation. Of being used so shamelessly. Everything from his mouth to his own release decided on by someone else entirely. Hell, of just being talked about like he’s not even in the fucking room. Like Eddie’s just some toy.

Oh fuck, he’s so hard.

“Of course not,” Buck smiles as he looks down at Eddie, his tone casual like if someone has asked if he forgot to get groceries or something. Simple. Dismissive. And Eddie wants more of it so fucking badly. Buck turns back to Tommy with nothing but pure dark lust in his eyes. “That first one is ours.”

====

no pressure tagging some moots!! @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @shyaudacity @hotshotsxyz @hippolotamus @devirnis :3 and anyone else who would want to join!!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

How many children would each of the Salieri men have? -Anon

A/N: Okay this is a response to a inbox request. For some reason I cannot find it anymore?? Sometimes my inbox eats up y’all’s messages. I’m so sorry!! ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS!! I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam

I know I’ve written before that he wants kids with his wife but that’s delusional ¡Yandere! Sam who’s only doing that to baby trap you.

I think he truly doesn’t wants kids and would be perfectly fine if you couldn’t bear any. I think the true reason why he goes through with it is because of the time that he’s in.

Hotshot mob-boss Sam would need to have children because he’d eventually need to have a successor for the family.

Needs come before wants😪

Plus it’d look so weird if he willingly chose not to have any when he can. During that time if you were married with absolutely no kids by like the second year…*side eyed* (exaggeration but y’know)

Please no more than 2 tho. Only wants a son but would be okay with having daughter if he also had a son.

Would be an okay father tho so don’t worry too much. He’s like a dad that swears he hates dogs and if his family gets one he won’t take care of it but once the dog is around he switches up.

Yeah that’s him, he loves his kids a lot. He doesn’t always know how to show it and he’s kind of both physically and emotionally absent.

He does provide them with everything and if they are giving you a hard time he will defend you.

Paulie

You cannot change my mind on this. He wants the most kids and has the strongest desire for them.

This man is a hopeless romantic and he reeeeallly wants to have a perfect large family. I read a headcannon once that said Paulie had a very abusive father and the Mob was his ticket out of that. I believe that too and he wants to become the father he never had.

He fantasizes about being the best dad ever and having the whole family work together in his pizza joint. How beautiful his wife would look carrying his kids.

He wants 6-12 kids…3 boys and 3 girls if it’s 6 or 7boys and 5 girls if it’s 12.

Have you seen that scene in shameless where the guy goes “I HAVE A MAGICAL DICK” after finding out his wife is having twins…yeah that’s Paulie

Seriously this is his dream and if he ever becomes a father he’d never shut up about it. #1 PTA dad. He’s extremely involved with his children’s life. He’ll go through insane lengths to protect his children from a horrible childhood.

Tommy

The original “whatever my wife wants, I’m happy with” man.

I think he’s indifferent about the whole concept of having kids..? Like having kids would be nice….so is not having kids. Doesn’t really care about the societal pressure to have them at all.

He cares about his wife more than any of that junk. If having children would be too much of a strain on your life then don’t worry about it.

To be honest he’s kind of worried to have children because any day he could be gone and now his partner would be left as a single mother. :/

So I’m going to say while he’s actively in the mob he’d be leaning towards a no. But if this is after he’s escaped and you’ve settled down, Tommy is down for it.

Maybe 1-4 kids. Keeping it rather light and traditional. I don’t think this man would handle more than that tbh. Hes certified tired™️ and the more kids the less sleep.

I have a feeling though that he’d have all girls. He’s actually okay with that though. Mobster in a tutu to make his girls smile🤣

I’d say he’d be a normal suburban dad but I think he’s slightly too reserved and dangerous for that.

The family dynamic is super normal. He goes out to work to provide for y’all and when he gets home he’ll help the kids with homework.

We all know Tom is extremely loyal and loving so his kids are his world. They mean absolutely everything to him and he’ll do whatever it takes to help guide them through life.