#like they were leaving going like aw since its rush hour i was thinking i would go to the pc lab and watch something...(wanna come with me)

[globodamorte]

why do the chatty ones always find me. why can't I say no I can't help you. holy shit.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified

A.N: So it's been a while my loves 🩷 Thank you so much for your wonderful support while I wasn't active, and here's a fun and flirty Congressman!Bucky oneshot! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think 🩷 Love you! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Working overtime has its surprising moments.

Word Count: 1917 (like his bday:)

There were many things one could say about working in politics.

It consumed your whole life, for starters. It wasn’t the type of work that you could leave at the office and go home to relax, you had to be informed and ready to work at any hour of the day. It was stressful, it was chaotic, it was insane, but God damn it, you loved the adrenaline rush.

You stormed into Bucky’s office, waving your phone in the air like a flag.

“Bedford Avenue!” you exclaimed. “Bedford Avenue!”

Bucky exchanged glances with Sam who looked as clueless as he was, and turned to you. “Hm?”

“Bedford Avenue!”

“I heard what you said, what’s happening there?”

You grinned and held the phone to your eye level.

“After the news article uncovering the CEO’s donations to the city council member, the construction in Bedford Avenue has been halted—”

“Can I see that?”

“I’m not reading anything, this is a video of cute foxes,” you admitted, turning the screen to him. “I just saw the article on my laptop and rushed here like Paul Revere. I figured it would make me look more professional if I pretended to read it from my phone.”

Sam raised his brows. “You could’ve found the website on your way here?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“You could’ve printed the article out, there are like one hundred computers out there,” Bucky said and both you and Sam turned to look at him better.

“Print it out just to show you?” Sam asked as if he wanted to make sure he heard him right and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, why not?”

You heaved a sigh. “No wonder why we have to get phishing training every week if this is the pace you keep up with the technology.”

“I was born in 1917.”

“And I was in a hurry,” you insisted. “Besides, you can’t judge me for my actions in the past, I put that behind me.”

 “The couple of seconds you spent walking here from your desk doesn’t count as the past, and there’s nothing wrong with printing things out, for the record.”

“I’ll just send you the articles as handwritten letters.”

Sam let out a chuckle and stood up.

“Good job on the Bedford Avenue.”

“Why thank you,” you said with a bright smile and he nodded at Bucky.

“And we’ll see you tonight?”

“Absolutely, tell Sarah I said hi.”

“Will do,” Sam said and walked out of the office while you plopped down on the chair across from Bucky’s desk, your eyes glued to your phone before a laugh escaped your lips.

“Another article,” you said. “This feels better than actually having sex, do you know what this means?”

“I know it doesn’t mean anything good for your boyfriend.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“Shut it—this dude is one of the biggest donors for the opposition. If they shut down the construction, they’ll drag him to court.”

“Seems that way.”

“Which means he will be dragged through the mud and then we’re going to win—” You slapped the coffee table. “Bow down bitches!”

Bucky repressed a smile and you took a deep breath, leaning back on the chair.

“People seem to think his wife is also involved,” you said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they got a divorce.”

“Are you always this delighted at others’ misfortune?”

“When they’re pouring money to our opposition, yes I am,” you said. “I’ve been competitive ever since I lost that first grade spelling bee.”

“No wonder you didn’t put that on your resume.”

“My point about not being judged for my past,” you told him, making him chuckle.

“Fair.”

“So you’re meeting Sam and Sarah tonight?”

“For dinner, yeah. It’s been a while since I saw Cass and AJ.”

“Aw, they’re the cutest!”

“How about you?” he asked. “Any plans with the uh-with the boyfriend?”

 You pursed your lips, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I did, but he’s too busy for tonight so we postponed it.”

He tilted his head, frowning in confusion and you sat up straighter.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “It’s just, one of the senior partners at the firm he works at, apparently he’s dating an ex-employee so it’s a shit show.”

“Why?”

“Boss and employee. Doesn’t matter how in love they are.”

“You said an ex-employee.”

“Oh yeah, she started working somewhere else a while ago, but it doesn’t matter,” you said. “Ex or not, dating an employee or your boss is like, the worst thing anyone could ever do. It’s business suicide.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” he said. “Yeah that makes sense. Because who would—I mean you’d never.”

You grimaced, thinking about Bucky’s campaign manager who happened to be your boss at the moment.

“I’d start screaming,” you said. “And also, apparently he’s older than her? Which, don’t get me wrong, I love listening to Lana Del Rey as much as anyone but a ten-year age gap?”

Bucky blinked a couple of times, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “That’s a lot. That’s a decade.”

“Exactly.” You crossed your fingers and looked up at the ceiling. “I keep Pedro Pascal out of that generalization, universe. I do not care how old he is, he is the exception, send him my way.”

“Do I want to know who he is?”

“Everyone should know who he is,” you told him and checked your phone again. “I need to get to the bottom of this CEO thing, doesn’t hurt to be well-informed.”

“Have you taken a break today?”

“I’ll take a break in DC—” you started but turned your head when the campaign manager knocked on the door, and peeked his head in.

“Hey, got a minute?”

Bucky looked at you as if asking for permission and you jumped on your feet.

“I was just leaving,” you said. “But hey, you owe me one.”

“I owe you plenty,” Bucky said with a small smile that made your heart skip a happy beat and you lingered there for a moment before making your way out of the office, biting back a grin.

*

 Fine, maybe you were a bit of a workaholic but in your defense, the campaign was going so well, so this was the least you could do to make sure Bucky would win.

You repressed a yawn, stealing a look at the city lights shining in the night before turning your attention to the screen, but your head shot up when you noticed someone entering the bullpen. Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you sat up straighter, taking your earbuds out.

“Hey.”

“You’re not going to listen to me if I tell you to go home, are you?” Bucky asked and you stretched out your arms, making a face.

“Nope,” you said. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

“I did, but I forgot something in my office,” he said, leaning back to the empty desk across from yours and you hummed.

“You do realize you could’ve asked someone to bring it to you?”

“I’m not gonna do that,” he said as if the idea was ridiculous before looking around the empty bullpen. It was mostly dark, illuminated by only the light of the screens and the city outside, and you couldn’t help but notice just how handsome—

Objectively, that was.

He was objectively a handsome man.

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daze when you realized he had asked you a question and he shot you a look.

“Did you take a break today?”

“Yeah I stepped outside for five minutes,” you said. “It’s plenty.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “I’m begging you to go home.”

“I will after I’m finished with this.” You gestured at the screen and then snapped your fingers. “Before I forget…”

You grabbed the printed out news article on your desk and handed it to him, making him let out a chuckle.

“Seriously?”

“Mm hm.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“And your speech for tomorrow—the edited version, I printed that out and Caleb took it to your place so that you can go over it after dinner, I know you like adding stuff in the margins,” you said. “You sent a fruit basket and a personal get well soon card to Commissioner Michaels, he had a small accident, nothing important, and also you sent flowers to Ellen Cooper, she wrote that nice article about you and apparently her daughter just graduated college.”

Bucky tilted his head. “I did all that?”

“Well no, I did all that,” you said. “But I can fake your signature and your handwriting, so as far as they’re concerned, it’s from you.”

“How do you do all this?” he asked and you wiggled your brows.

“I’m a genius,” you said and paused for a moment. “My psychiatrist has a different theory but I like mine better.”

 The smile on Bucky’s face was soft, a gentle gleam playing in his piercing blue eyes as he stared at you, then frowned to himself.

“I uh—I got you something.”

You could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage. “I’m sorry?”

He reached into his jacket to pull a tiny fox figure out of his inner pocket, a burst of laughter bubbling in your chest before it spilled from your lips and he put the figure on your desk while you covered your mouth, a warmth dripping in your chest.

“You mentioned you like foxes so…”

You pressed a hand on your chest, smiling wide as you took it to your hand to see it better.

“Aw, thank you!” you said. “You know, I’m gonna adopt a fox one day.”

“I don’t think you can do that.”

“I work in politics, I’ll just bribe a politician or something,” you brushed him off and put the figure on the desk again. “He is so sweet! I’ll call him Bucky.”

 “Please don’t.”

“Buchanan.”

“Also no.”

“I do not take constructive criticism at this point in my life, shut it,” you said, pointing a finger at him and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Fine, fine…” he said and you let out a giggle.

“But seriously, thank you,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said with a shrug of his shoulders and you nibbled on your lip, still staring up at him. He held your gaze in his before he took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

“I should—I should go,” he said and you tried to ignore the disappointment at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh right, tell Sarah and Sam I said hi,” you said. “And kiss Cass and AJ for me.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll send Dave here, he can drive you home when you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Bucky, I can just—”

“You’re not going home by yourself at this hour.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“I won’t because I’ll be worried about you,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “Please?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Sure,” you said. “See you tomorrow.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked out of the bullpen and you heaved a sigh before taking the fox figure into your hand again, a smile warming your face. You stared at it, then swallowed thickly and put the figure on the desk again.

“Get your shit together,” you muttered to yourself, brushing a hand over your face. “You have stuff to do.”

Chapter 2

[sophsbookstore]

New Beginnings

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 3225

A/N: HE'S HERE!! Shout out to the anon who gave the name idea, and thank you to everyone who sent ideas (I wrote them down for future use, don't worry!)

also I wanted to get this out fast so apologies for no banner, but enjoy this gif!

Masterlist can be found here!

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of the hospital room. The small room, once sterile and impersonal, had transformed into something so much warmer in the hours since your son had arrived. The windows let in a gentle stream of moonlight, casting a calming glow over the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the small bottle of essential oil you’d brought from home, a small comfort in this strange, sterile place. The bed, with its crisp white linens and worn quilted blanket, was a far cry from the chaos of labor, but now it was filled with love.

Quinn sat beside you, his large frame almost swallowing the space beside you as he held your newborn son in his arms. His baby boy. His son. The words still felt surreal, even hours after the birth. The emotions that coursed through you—the love, the overwhelming sense of joy, the tender affection for the little being Quinn was gently cradling in his arms—were beyond words.

Quinn looked down at his son with such tenderness, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms. His son, with a head of soft, dark hair and tiny hands that seemed too small to belong to such a big world. Quinn couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest as you watched him.

"He's perfect," Quinn whispered, his voice barely more than a soft breath. His fingers gently stroked the baby’s cheek, a movement so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to touch him too much, as if he were afraid of breaking something so precious.

You could only nod, your eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight of your family—your little family—finally together. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this. You thought you understood love, you thought you understood what it meant to have someone in your life who mattered more than anything else. But this? This was something else entirely. Your son was here, and with him, a whole new world had opened up.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. The pain of labor still a distant memory now that your son was in your arms, but the rush of feelings that came with becoming a mother, of seeing Quinn as a father, was all-consuming.

Quinn’s eyes flickered toward you, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He shifted, making sure your son was safe in his arms as he leaned closer to you. “He’s so small. I can’t believe we made him.”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm, the touch gentle and comforting. “He’s perfect, Quinn. Just like you.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in the sound. Instead, there was awe. “You really think so?”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. “I do. He looks just like you, you know.”

Quinn let out a soft laugh, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders relax even more as the moment between the three of you felt almost too perfect to be real. “I don’t know about that. He’s so small, I don’t know if he even has a chance of looking like me. But I hope he gets your smile.” He paused, his eyes falling to the baby in his arms. “I hope he gets your kindness too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you turned your head to look at Quinn. “You’re going to be such an amazing dad.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “We’re in this together, right? I know I’m gonna screw up sometimes, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has the best life possible. Just like you’re gonna be the best mom.” He paused, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The lump in your throat returned, but you swallowed it down, wanting to savor this moment. “He’s lucky to have both of us.” You looked back at your son, his tiny face scrunched up as he slept peacefully in Quinn’s arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to disappear. It was just the three of you, tucked away in this quiet, safe place. The bond between the two of you had always been strong, but now it felt like it had deepened in a way neither of you had expected. Your love for each other, for this little life you’d created, was unlike anything you’d ever known.

“I’m just so happy he’s here,” Quinn whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “So happy we’re finally parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.”

And in that moment, as you all huddled together in the soft glow of the hospital room, surrounded by the love you’d created, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a whole new chapter in your life—one that would be filled with challenges, but also so much joy. Because, as Quinn had said, this little one was yours. Your family. And nothing would ever be the same again.

The peaceful calm of the hospital room was disrupted by the sudden buzz of Quinn's phone vibrating on the bedside table. He glanced down at the screen, a small frown of concentration crossing his face as he saw the name flashing across it.

"It's Jack," Quinn murmured, his thumb swiping the screen to answer the text.

You watched as Quinn quickly read the message, his eyes scanning the words before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the excitement in his eyes. "Jack says everyone’s on their way. My parents, your parents, and Luke. They’re all coming to meet him."

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad they can be here.”

Quinn nodded, still smiling as he typed back a quick response, then placed his phone back down. He turned to look at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I’ll let them in when they get here, but we need to put him down for a second, okay? You need to rest for a bit.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to let go of your baby, even for a moment. But you understood. Quinn had been so gentle, so attentive with him since he was born, and you knew he’d want to be the one to greet everyone and show them the little one.

Carefully, Quinn shifted the baby from his arms, cradling him gently as he placed him in the small bassinet beside your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the momentary separation, but it was fleeting. You could already feel the warmth of your little family growing stronger with every passing second.

Quinn leaned down and kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure everyone’s settled and they don’t overwhelm you.” He gave you one last reassuring smile before walking to the door, opening it just as your parents and his came into the room.

The air in the room shifted as soon as the door opened, the sound of footsteps and the low hum of excited conversation filling the small space. You watched as Quinn's parents, your parents, Jack, and Luke all filed into the room all carrying various blue balloons and baby toys, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of the two of you. It was like a wave of warmth washing over you—this was your family, all here to celebrate the new life you had just welcomed into the world.

Quinn’s mom was the first to reach the bed, her arms open wide as she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes, “I’m so proud of you. He’s beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, hugging her back as she ran a hand over your hair. "Thank you," you replied softly, “we’re so happy he’s finally here.”

Quinn’s dad, standing behind her, stepped forward next, a proud smile plastered across his face as he leaned down to give you a hug. “You both did great. He’s lucky to have parents like you.”

Your own parents were close behind, both of them visibly overwhelmed with emotion as they approached. Your mom was already tearing up as she gave you a gentle hug, holding you a little longer than usual. “He’s so perfect. I can’t believe I’m a grandmother now.”

You giggled softly, feeling a surge of happiness in your chest. “I know, it’s so surreal, but in the best way.”

Your dad, who had been standing back a bit, gave Quinn a hearty slap on the back before coming over to give you a warm hug. “You’re gonna be amazing parents, both of you. We’re so proud.”

Quinn gave his parents a brief hug as well, before turning to Jack and Luke. Jack, who had been practically jumping up and down, immediately pulled Quinn into a bear hug. “Congrats, man,” he said excitedly, clapping his brother’s back. “You’re a dad. Holy crap, I can’t believe it.”

Luke, standing behind Jack, offered a knowing smile and gave you a nod of approval. "Congrats," he added, his voice low but warm.

Jack, after finally letting go of Quinn, immediately moved toward the bassinet where their son lay, his eyes locked on the tiny figure. “Let me see him!” he said, his excitement clear in his voice. The rest of the group followed suit, gathering around the bed, their eyes on the little boy.

“Everyone, this is our son,” you said softly, your voice full of love as you gestured to the baby in the bassinet. “This is Casey Jack Hughes.”

There was a brief pause as everyone took in the name, the soft sounds of admiration filling the room. Then, Jack’s face lit up in pure delight, his eyes wide with happiness as he leaned closer to the baby. “Casey Jack?” He practically shouted. “Oh my God, that’s awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s excitement. Quinn, standing beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes warm as he shared a quiet smile with you. You both had kept the name a secret for so long, but now, hearing Jack’s reaction, you couldn’t be more happy with your choice.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Like it?” Jack repeated, beaming. “I love it! I’m so honored. Casey Jack—CJ. That’s what I’m gonna call him. CJ, what do you think of that, buddy?” Jack looked down at the baby with a huge grin, his voice turning soft as he spoke to the tiny life in front of him. “Yeah, CJ’s got a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, the warmth in the room filling your heart. “You’re gonna spoil him, aren’t you?”

Jack winked at you, his excitement palpable. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. You’re both lucky to have me around.” He looked down at CJ again, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand. “What do you think, little guy? You gonna remember me as the coolest uncle when you grow up?”

Quinn, his own heart swelling with joy, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before giving his brother a side-eye. “Easy there, Jack. We’re gonna have to make sure he gets some sleep, too, you know?”

Jack just grinned, completely undeterred. “I’ll be gentle, promise. But CJ’s gonna know who his favorite uncle is, right?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes fondly. “But let’s give him a minute. He’s still brand new.”

Your parents smiled, their eyes filled with warmth as they took a step back to let Jack have his moment. “You’ve got a great name, little Casey,” your dad added softly, his voice full of pride. “We can’t wait to watch you grow.”

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible—the amount of love that surrounded you and your new family. The world outside felt distant now, as if everything had fallen into place in this tiny hospital room. There would be challenges ahead, but in this moment, you felt at peace. You were surrounded by family, you had the love of Quinn, and your son, Casey, was already so deeply cherished by everyone.

Quinn squeezed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Our family, it’s perfect.”

—

The morning light filtered through the windows of your home, casting a soft glow over the living room as Quinn carefully stepped inside, carrying the baby carrier in one hand. Your heart swelled as you watched him—your strong, gentle Quinn—carrying your son into the house for the first time. It felt so surreal, but in the best possible way.

After a long night in the hospital, full of excitement and happy tears, you’d finally arrived home. Your legs were still a little unsteady, but the warmth and comfort of being in your own space made everything feel a little easier. There was something so peaceful about being home with your family—your new family—and you couldn’t wait to settle into this new chapter of your life.

Quinn glanced over at you, his eyes soft as he set the carrier down on the couch. “Alright, babe. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything with Casey while you recharge.”

You smiled tiredly, nodding. “I’m not that tired, I promise. I just need a minute.”

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll handle this part, you take the time you need.”

Your eyes softened as you looked up at him. You could see the quiet pride in his face as he looked at your son in the carrier, his hands hovering over the little one as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. It was still amazing to see Quinn, the man you’d loved for so long, now in this role—the role of a father. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

You nodded, though you didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, you stayed where you were, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Quinn carefully lifted the baby carrier, cradling it with one arm while the other held onto the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the baby.

The way he looked at Casey, so full of awe and tenderness, made your heart ache with love. It was as if, in those moments, the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only Quinn, only your little boy, and only the home you’d created together.

He turned toward the hallway and glanced over his shoulder, catching your eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “I’m going to show Casey his new room.”

With a small sigh, you pushed off the counter and walked toward him. The sight of Quinn gently carrying the carrier through your house, as if he was guiding his son into the world, was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. And as much as you wanted to rest, you couldn’t help but want to be there, to be a part of this moment.

You followed him quietly down the hallway, your steps light as you took in the sight of your home. The walls you had carefully chosen, the pictures you’d hung together, the quiet space you’d made for this family of three. It all felt so much more real now.

Quinn reached the nursery door and stopped just outside, holding the baby carrier steady. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. “This is it. His room.”

You peered inside, your eyes scanning the soft blue walls, the crib tucked in the corner, and the shelves lined with tiny stuffed animals. Everything about the room felt peaceful and full of love, just like the rest of the house. It had been a labor of love, carefully decorated with the anticipation of this very moment.

“He’s going to love it here,” you said, your voice a little thick with emotion. It felt like this room was made just for him, and somehow, seeing it all come together made the reality of being parents feel even more overwhelming.

“I think so, too,” Quinn murmured, gently setting the carrier down on the changing table. “I can’t wait to watch him grow up here. I can’t wait to see all the milestones—his first steps, his first words…everything.” He turned back toward you, a little sheepish. “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m ready for it. I want to be there for every little thing.”

You walked into the room, standing next to him as you both looked down at the carrier, the tiny figure of your son peacefully asleep inside. The sight of him, so small and perfect in his new world, made your heart swell with pride.

“We’re going to be great parents,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “We’re doing this together.”

Quinn smiled, his expression softening. “I’m so glad you’re with me through all of this. We’ve got this, right?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Together. Always.”

Carefully, Quinn unbuckled the straps of the baby carrier, lifting Casey gently into his arms. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body relaxing against Quinn’s chest. You couldn’t help but admire how natural it all looked, how Quinn seemed so comfortable in this new role, how Casey fit perfectly in his arms as though he had always belonged there.

You stepped forward, guiding Quinn toward the crib. As he gently lowered Casey into the soft blankets, you watched in awe, your heart overflowing. Quinn stood there for a moment, just gazing down at their son, his expression full of love and admiration.

“He’s perfect,” Quinn murmured quietly, almost to himself, as he stood beside the crib, his hand resting on the edge.

You smiled, your hand finding Quinn’s as you joined him by the crib. “He really is.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, just looking at your son, feeling the weight of this beautiful new chapter in your lives. Everything had changed in an instant—your world now revolved around Casey, and in so many ways, it felt like you were living in a dream.

But as you stood there, hand in hand, watching your little boy peacefully sleep in his new room, you knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.

And with Quinn by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment. 

[vroomvroommbtch]

That you are - MM x fem!reader

Summary: The only thing Mason wanted after a long day at the office was to be with his girl.

Warnings: Mostly angst and some fluff and comfort.

Words: 2.7k

A/N: I have had this one for weeks, thinking it was shit to post, but after tonight? All I want is to read angst while I curse everything and everyone. Anyone. Its short and probably shitty. But never as shitty as losing a final against the ugly birds.🙃

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

By the time he finally pulled his car up to the house's entrance, he didn't care about the time. He knew it was late. It was almost midnight, and that was enough for him. The only thing he could think about at the end of a long day—a trip to Newcastle, a match, another trip back to Carrington, and a drive home—was getting to bed. Being honest to himself, he also needed a burger and a whole batch of chocolate chip cookies baked by his girl, but that was something he couldn't have, not with his diet. Knowing she was probably asleep made his night even worse. She didn't answer his text letting her know when he was back in Manchester and heading home, so it could only mean she was already in bed. When he got into his car and began driving, all he could think about was her in their bed, making him crave it more than ever.

Not getting her 'Drive safe! See you in a minute. Love you!' normal text made him somehow feel guilty. He loved his job. His whole life he knew he wanted to be a footballer, but the most difficult thing about it was all the hours and even days away. He had been used to being apart from his family since he was a teenager. After leaving home at such a young age, Mason learned how to deal with the distance and the awful feeling of homesickness. But while he learned how to be away from everyone, he never figured out how to be apart from her.

Mason knew the distance between them was always temporary. That's how it has been since he left home. It didn't matter if it was only for a couple of hours and how he knew he would always run back to her arms in the end, Mason felt like his heart was always left home with her. Mason knew how lucky he was to do what he loved, but guilt was constantly there. That guilt only became stronger since their first kiss. He didn't like the idea of her arriving in an empty house, especially when he was away or coming home late. He was heartbroken to think of his girl going to sleep in an empty, cold bed. He hated it as much as he hated not being able to go to bed at the same time as her.

That night I t didn't do much, but he felt some sort of relief as he finally reached their street and finally their house. He didn't think of the chilling air as he ran out of the car and into the house. He didn't care much about his things as he left them at the entrance and locked the door. All he wanted was to find her, so he ran straight into the living room. Mason knew she might not be there, but too many times she fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, resulting in him carrying her upstairs or them cuddling there all night. This time, however, the couch was completely empty. Her favorite blanket was thrown to the side and the cushions were scattered, so he knew she was there not so long ago.

He didn't bother to look around the kitchen since the lights were off, so he rushed upstairs straight to their room to finally see his girl. If he was lucky, Mason might find her still awake, either watching something on TV or nose buried in a book that she was eager to finish. He wasn't in the mood to talk, but he just wanted to spend some time with her. He just wanted to hear about her day, knowing her soft voice and her fingers stroking his face would work wonders to help him relax. But as soon as he opened the door, Mason realized it wouldn't happen. He wasn't surprised when he saw the book lying on her chest, probably trying her very best to stay awake for him. She looked like an angel, tucked under the covers, sleeping the night ignoring momentarily any problems.

His favorite thing was seeing Ace sleep at the end of the bed, keeping her company and not moving from her side. It wasn't anything new, though. She was the first one to allow the dog onto their bed, letting him sleep in the space under her feet, especially when Mason wasn't at home. Ace was a protection dog, but he was also trained not to make a mess of a welcome home party full of excited barking whenever Mason came home. Despite being trained to protect them, he would become puppy-like whenever he saw them, so he waddled his tail as soon as he recognized one of his favorites people was back home.

Mason wasn't surprised to see the light on his side of the bed turned on when he opened the door. It was something she'd done since day one, not wanting him to walk around in the dark, knowing he wouldn't turn on the light if she was already asleep. She was right tho. She looked peaceful and he wouldn't want to disrupt that. Mason needed a peaceful night, so he wouldn't ruin it for her.

After kissing Ace's head and sorting himself out quicker than normal, he headed back to the bedroom, leaving his used clothes in the bathroom laundry basket. Mason tiptoed around the bed to reach his side, and after slipping under the covers, he felt a wave of tears come to him, but he didn't let them out. He couldn't let it happen. He knew she would wake up the second Mason got close to her body. She always woke up when he got home, her hands automatically searching for his warmth and comfort. There was always a sweet kiss, a comforting hug, a sweet ‘Missed you’ and a 'How was your day?'. Normally she would stay awake to hear the answer, but that night Mason was relieved that this was not the case.

Mason was not wrong and like he imagined, she stirred the moment he lay down, her eyes barely open as she reached for him with her hand. After twenty years side-by-side, she always knew what Mason needed. She has always made things feel light, and that night was no exception. This time, instead of snuggling beside him as she usually did, she opened her arms to him. Words weren't needed. There were no questions asked.

Like a small scared boy, Mason moved closer, wrapping himself around her, a mess of legs tangled together. His arms weren’t any different, holding her waist for dear life, not planning to leave her until he had to in the morning. He knew Carrington was about to become a nightmare the next day. He knew the yelling was coming to them, and it was likely to be more unpleasant than the silence in the changing room after the match. A terrible 4-1 that was humiliating. It was painful. It was tragic. It was a punch in the face. 

One of his biggest fears was believing that one day her faith in him would disappear. He was terrified of disappointing the little girl who told him to fight for it when Chelsea offered him the opportunity to move to London all those years ago, as well as the woman who had promised to marry him and be with him forever. He just wanted to make her feel proud of him, but he felt it was an impossible task. Mason knew her, the constant ‘You could never disappoint me’ was always there, but on bad days he couldn’t help but feel all his doubts taking over. 

He didn't want to admit that she had been the only positive thing Manchester had given him so far. Yes, he won an FA Cup in his first year at the club, but nothing could be compared to them finally living together and being a couple. There were too many reasons why he chose United, but he couldn't pretend it wasn't for her. Putting her in the position of being the sole reason he was there originally would make her feel guilty, but he signed his contract so he could be with her as he had promised. Even when everything went wrong, he didn't regret it. Mason knew that was the one chance he had to be with his girl, but he didn't expect the rest of the journey.

Mason knew that it was his mess, but what hurt him the most was witnessing how it affected her too. He could see the constant worry on her face. He could see the pain in her eyes because he was suffering. For every injury, every difficult match, every bad training session, and every setback, she was there, arms open to hold him close until he felt better. It always worried her. Since the beginning of their friendship she has been concerned about him, but it has gotten worse since they got together. She was far more preoccupied than she would ever admit, and Mason knew it well. There was a constant fear in her heart that the man she loved would be hurt and come back heartbroken. The feeling that she wasn't good enough because she didn't know what to say to make things better for him. The pressure of outside comments even though they shouldn't matter. The heaviness in her chest for not wanting to talk about it all with Mason because she didn't want to make him feel worse. 

She was the one who looked after him every day. The one loving him. The one putting a pause on her career to be there for him on terrible injury days. The one reminding him to stop overthinking things when what he needed to do was play football like he knew how because that's what he was born to do. The one offering her shoulder to cry and her arms to hide. The one putting a smile on his face and making life funnier. The one who changed her very organized and normal life in Manchester to let him into her tiny apartment and routine. The one who welcomed him to the new city, held his hand, and assured him everything would be okay. The one who made their house a home, the one they were always meant to have together. She was the one who made Mason feel things he had never felt before. Never so much. Never so deeply. Never so good.

She had been dealing with everything he brought with him. The baggage, the tears, the bad days, the injuries, the fear of losing her favorite person in the world for so many reasons, the ups and downs, the heartbreak, and the distance. That long list was why Mason still believed she deserved better. He knew she deserved better. It didn't matter that he put a ring on her finger, and she said yes, or that their wedding was mostly planned, he still believed she deserved someone better. Like he said the day they finally got together, she deserved someone who got it together, not someone who was barely hanging and holding on for dear life. She should have someone smarter and stronger. A person without a camera on his back. The kind of person who could take her out on a date in complete peace at any time. She deserves someone who can put her first and not just have half his attention.

Despite knowing his girl deserved better, Mason couldn't imagine being without her. It would be easier to stop breathing. It would be easier to stop playing football. They made a promise, and he wouldn't break it. They said forever, so Mason could only strive to be better. She deserved it, so he was going to do it because he loved her with everything he had. He loved her so much. So strongly. So fully. So deeply. So beautifully.

The only thing they wanted was to protect each other. Mason sometimes wished they could go back to when they were kids and didn't have any responsibilities or pressure. He wished they could get back to simpler times. Back when he was a kid playing football and no one wanted to get into his life, especially his relationship. When no one would look at his fiancée and say something simply because they thought it was allowed.

A shaky breath left his body, and even half asleep, she understood what he needed. She knew without words. She knew everything she needed from a hug and the feeling of his body against hers. It was no different that night. A soft kiss on his forehead, one hand stroking his head and the other on his chest. She placed it there, her palm against his heart as she slowly moved it in circles. It was what Mason always did when her chest felt tight and her anguish was too much, so it wasn't news to him when she did it for him as well. 

He let it all take over him. Her soft hands against his skin, the smell of her shampoo mixed with her shower gel and laundry soap, the softness of the sheets, the calm of the night, the silence of their room only interrupted by their breaths, Ace’s soft snoring and her heartbeat against his ear. It was an every single day thing, but especially in nights like that, Mason regretted all the time he wasted, wishing he had made the move sooner. If he wasn’t a coward-or a complete blind idiot like his siblings called him- they could have been like that for years, but instead he pretended he wasn't in love with his best friend before he could even write the word 'Love'.

Mason stayed still whenever her hand stopped moving. He thought she was finally back asleep, and if he was lucky, he would be following her in no time. There was nothing he wanted more than pretend the world outside didn’t exist, but he needed to get up early for training. He had to wake up with the awful alarm noise when all he wished for was to wake up with her kisses on his forehead to have a lazy day in bed. He was so exhausted that he could cry that night, but he took another deep breath to ignore it.

Mason was sure she was asleep, but he couldn’t be more wrong about it. He felt her lips on his forehead one more time, just another reminder of her love and support. He closed his eyes and in the middle of the silence he heard a whispered “Love you” that came out of the blue from her as she buried her face in his hair.

Two words that went straight to his heart, taking his mind off his misery and the endless things he could have done better on the match. It made him disconnect from everything and focus on her. On them.

She said she loved him even when he was a sad, grumpy mess. When he didn’t want to leave the bed on bad days. When he was a complete pain in the ass. When he'd crash at night and they couldn't talk for five minutes because he was exhausted. When weekends as a couple were nonexistent. She loved him since he was a teen boy who couldn’t grow a beard and had no idea if he would ever make it. His Cookie had loved him since the beginning, and he couldn’t be more grateful. Mason was thankful for her and them, but more importantly, because when he knew it was hard to love him, she did it anyway.

His girl. His sunshine. His lifeline. His lighthouse. His love. His best friend. His rock. His future wife. His air. His whole universe. His miracle. His northern star. His whole heart.

As Mason hugged her tighter, he took a deep breath. He let the words wash over him. It hugged him lovingly in the same way as her arms did. It healed. Another breath in sync with hers, and when the air left the lungs, life seemed simpler. Suddenly, it felt lighter. She loved him. Forever. Always. More than anyone. She loved him and if she did, then he might have been doing something right. 

[fantasynsuch]

Adam Stanheight SFW + NSFW headcanons

REQUESTS FOR SAW OPEN!

2.3k words

Sfw

How you meet!

you two meet probably in the hallway of your crappy apartment complex.

you run into him from the corner, he had his headphones in and was listening to it on full volume, and you were running late for work

crashing head first into neighbor? you dick he probably thinks to himself as he realizes he just ran into his neighbor.

he'd seen you around before: mostly rushing to whatever crappy retail job of the month you had

he had thought you were really beautiful, but he was a coward at heart, so never did anything about it

this time he didn't have the choice to not interact with you: well, without looking like a dick

"I am SO sorry. I'm such a dumbass." He rushes out before he can think

Youre still kinda in a little bit of shock, so you just look up at this incredibly handsome man who just face planted into you for a long while

he thinks your silence is you rejecting his apologies and he quietly apologizes and runs off

but you just were so enamored by him that you couldn't say anything

at work all you can think about is how you didn't accept his apologies and probably made him feel horrible

you were determined to make things right so after work you grab a couple packs of the smokes you always saw him with from the store and rush to his apartment

you timidly knock on his door and wait with bated breath

he sees you through the peephole and momentarily considers not answering it

but he sees the bag you have in your hand and is curious

he opens it, fully expecting to be yelled at for running into you

but all that happens is you raise the bag up quickly and say "i'm so sorry i didn't say anything, i feel so bad. i just was in shock because you're s-" you stop and say nothing after realizing your rambling

he looks in the bag and notices the smokes

you smile at him shyly

and that starts a beautiful relation

how you are as friends

you stay over ALOT

he tends to not eat the best so you make him alot of dinners and lunches to make sure he's eating regularly

his work as a professional stalker keeps him up at odd hours so those pre made meals are rlly a life saver

buying each other candy and snacks alot

when the other was having a rough month fiancially, you would try to pick up the slack andhelp them

that means buying the other small groceries and items to get them through till the next check

you stay over sm the other has toiletries like tooth brushes n soap at the others place

going to parties together but only talking to one another bc ur both not super extroverted

you just go for the free alcohol

speaking of which,,, taking care of each other when the other is drunk

he holds ur hair when ur sick in the toilet,

you rub his back when he's sick

when the other is actually ill as in cold or the flu, bringing each other soup n montioring each others temp

making sure the other takes their meds to get better

inevitably the other gets sick with the same thing, but it just ends up the same way with the other taking care of u

leaving notes in his mail slot when he's busy, and since its 2004, no fast messaging so "coming over at 5!! xoxo" in his mail slot

he lives kinda like a typical man with basically only a chair and essentials , bare ass living room

taking him to the thrift store to get like a decent couch n maybe an arm chair

helping him expand his wardrope to something beyond crappy second hand flannel n white shirt (preferably without blood on it)

helping him get through his trauma over the trap

you cant exactly help him get over it, but ur there when he has bad moments

holding him while he sobs in ur lap

just stroking his hair n reminding him hes here n not at the god awful bathroom

it really calms him down and reminds him he is present in this moment, not that one

he sometimes gets insecure about his scar on his shoulder and tries to hid it but you remind him that he shouldnt be embarassed for being strong enough to survive

helping him get back into normal non stalkery photographer- his need to make money to live kinda outweighed his desire to just take pics of birds

speaking of which: he def loves nature photography

he lives in new jersey, so its rare he gets to do that, but its a nice treat

road trips with him n he spends the whole time as a passenger princess asking you to stop n take pics of a dead tree that has a rlllly nice backdrop

ur crappy car probably breaks down once or twice but its part of the adventure

In a relationship

kisses. lot of f'ing kisses

neck kisses, forehead kisses, navel kisses. any types!

probably is the little spoon lbr

follows ur lead for the most part

want to go to the theatre? it may take out half his money but he WILL pay for the date

probably gets u sweet treats alot n writes a little note that says "love you babe!"

he def clings to you everywhere u go

got to go to the kitche? catch him hugging u from behind n not letting go

can't fall asleep without each other anymore

he used to have a twin sized mattress but he decided to buy a full after u moved intogether

speaking of which, he definitely moved into your apartment

you have a two bedroom n that allows him to have a red room for his photography and a bedroom

he probably only had a redroom and slept on the couch at his apartment tbh

typical man

very clean n likes to take showers with you

his fav thing is his hair being washed by you

the scraping on his scalp is incredibily grounding

he loves washing you as well, and not in a sexual way.

theres something so domestic about cleaning each other that he loves.

ultimately i think his interactions with cheating rich men has spoiled a bit of his view of marriage, but with you he really can see himself settling down and being a forever thing. beyond everything, he trusts you

he craves domesticity so he will enjoy providing for you and helping with the house

loves to cook, his mom probably taught him

doesn't really have a jealousy problem, though he can get jealous from time to time

very rare, but if he does, there might actually be a substantiated reason

doesn't want kids atm, as he can barely support himself and you.

waiting up for you to get home no matter how tired he is

wants to make sure you're home safe

rlly co dependent directly following the trap. can't be in the bathroom by myself, it reminds him too much of the trap. he needs you to be in the room with you while you speak to him through the curtain, or even better, being in the shower with you.

needs constant reassurance he isnt a burden on you

he feels like you don't deserve to be with a man who has so many problems

you tell him constantly that you will be there no matter what

holding hands just to remind him of your presence.

calms him down alot more than you expect

if you happen to be late getting home from work, he may partially freak out: thinking you left him finally

you'll find him sobbing on the couch curled in on himself

he's so vulnerable after lawrence left him there

he doesn't know that lawrence didn't break his promise intentionally so he holds alot of resentment for him

kissing his cheeks and telling him you'll never leave

onto more happy things:

MOVIE NIGHTS!!! you religiously watch movies together and spend most of the time talking about the stupidity of the characters or something.

never meeting his parents bc he's not on good terms with them

LOVES THAT YOURE ABOUT HIS HEIGHT, he's not a tall man and has never been insecure about his height, but the fact he's eye level with you makes it extremely intimate in his opinion

or if you're taller than him, his man brain goes ooga booga and thinks "tall woman/man" and all bets are off

NSFW

okay, to go ahead and put this glaringly obvious thing out there: HE HAS A THING FOR BEING A SUB!!!

He needs you to take control and tell him what to do

grab him by his hair and shove him in between your legs? yes ma'am

ask him to kneel and eat you out on a hardwood floor? done

he absolutely would do anything for you

he needs reassurance what he's doing is good: and rest assured, it is

he probably is a bit messy, and not very controlled

sloppy licks and desperate sucks are common

same thing for when he's inside you

ragged thrusts and a desperate pace

hes probably desperate bc you havent let him cum the whole session

his cock is probably a bit under average length wise, but good god is his girth something to marvel at

everytime he takes you he stretches you

very skinny man, and once you get your claws into him, he probably gains weight which gives him a cute bit of chub that you love to grab onto while he's thrusting into your hole haphazardly.

its almost like a leash

he absolutely needs direction the first couple times, hes so nervous he's shaking

you ask if he wants to keep going and he nods quickly n says theres nothing he's ever wanted more, but assuming this is following the trap, he absolutely needs someone to tell him what to do

could definitely get off from watching you cum (it's def happened before, his poor red cock hadn't been touched all night beyond the grinding on the bed he's hidden from you while eating you out and seeing your intense pleasure just,, he couldn't hold on anymore)

probably circumcised with a tasteful amount of hair, enough to be cute but not enough to be annoying

his nipples are probably so sensitive and he doesnt even know it, he's never thought to play with them

the first time you brush them he gasps and leaks precum

from then on they become a regular part of your routine when playing with him

PLEASE CALL HIM A GOOD BOY!!!

the first time you do, his head is thrown back in ecstasy from your mouth on his cock, and when you pull up, you tell him to look at you while still stroking his cock, and you say "youre my good boy. cum for me my baby boy."

he immediately cums and is embarrassed for weeks, even with your reassurance that it was the hottest thing you've ever seen

speaking of head, he loves getting it but he absolutely enjoys giving it more

theres something so sexy about being able to lick you to completion

when he gets head, he's so lost in his own pleasure that he forgets to breathe and when he remembers, he takes deep breaths

is so in love with your body

he thinks your the hottest person he's ever seen

would probably want to call you mistress or momma. i dont make the rules

RIDE HIM RN

he loves when you're on top, it makes him feel so helpless

alright so: he definitely wants you to peg him

grip his hands and place them above his head, and shove his head into the mattress

anything

his fav position is with his ass up in the air with his head shoved in a pillow and his cock hanging pitifully untouched. shove your strap into his ass while he begs you to make him cum

grab his face and kiss him while he wails out from the pleasure

shove your tongue down his throat,,, something!!

IN THE ODD OCCASION HE IS FEELING DOMINANT!!

rare

but it happens

he isn't some hard dom who leaves you bruised up

he will take care of you just like he does when he's subbing, but he won't let you order him around

grabs your neck and just holds. not enough to prevent you breathing, but enough for you to know its there

still sloppy either way

with him, aftercare is a must

thing is: you can't leave him alone after he's finished subbing, as it sparks some trigger that brings him back to the bathroom, where, in his mind, lawrence left him to die

you have to take him with you

you found out after he cries out and practically tackles you begging you to not leave and to stay with him and to not abandon him

its alot of rambling, but once you get him to calm down, he is pretty embarrassed, but you understand

you tell him to get up and hold his hand, or hug, while walking to the bathroom

wiping a rag on his oversensitive cock to clean it and seeing his face scrunch up is ur fav thing

you might make him eat his cum out of you to clean you up, but it just depends on how he feels. and it might start up a whole nother round so its a gamble

he probably doesn't fall asleep immediately afterward, and will stay there stroking your hair while you sleep to remind himself you're there, you aren't leaving and you love him

LOTS OF LOVE YOU'S DURING AND AFTER!!

something about you telling him you love him does something: it might be from him feeling useless and like a burden

when he finally sleeps, he's the little spoon and he whispers a quick,"thank you"before nodding off

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!! I LOVE ADAM AND SAW AND AND pLS REQUEST SOMETHING!!

[buckevanley]

any other bodily sense.

you can also read it here on ao3

The second Eddie steps into the dark, muggy parking lot at the end of his first twenty-four hour shift since a ladder truck blew up his best friend’s life, Maddie is calling him. 

This strikes Eddie as odd for two reasons. One, he didn’t even know he had Maddie’s actual number in his phone. He’s gotten so used to hearing her calm, steady timbre over the radio during calls that her voice has more or less become synonymous with imminent emergency incoming in his head. 

Two, he and Maddie have never really actively spoken on the phone before outside of that bubble of imminent emergency incoming, which leaves Eddie to assume that there’s only one thing she could be calling about. 

He picks up on the third ring. “Maddie?” 

“Eddie, hi,” Maddie’s voice rushes out on a sigh, relief staticky down the phone line. “Sorry, I know it’s late. Or, God–really, really early. I hope I didn’t wake you. Did I wake you?”

“Uh, no. No, you caught me at the perfect time, actually,” he says, looking around the slowly emptying parking lot as the rest of the shift shuffles off to their cars. The rain, which has been an endless droll on the station roof all day, finally petered off, leaving every surface shiny and slick in the streetlights starting to come to life. The heat is already starting to bake it off, filling his nose with the smell of wet, hot asphalt and steam. 

He sniffs, staving off the tickle of a sneeze. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just–,” she takes a breath, and it’s so different from her usual steadiness that the muscles in his shoulders pull tense, like his body knows the answer before she even says it. “It’s Buck.”  

Eddie grimaces, suspicions confirmed, and immediately kicks into gear. He takes long, wide strides across the parking lot to get to his truck, pinching the phone between his cheek and shoulder to dig for his keys in his pocket. “What happened?” 

“We just got back from the ER. He’s fine,” Maddie adds immediately, like she can hear the way Eddie’s stomach shoves its way up into his lungs. “He’s okay, it’s just a bad cold. But he’s running a pretty high fever, and with it coming on so recently after his surgery,” her voice trails off, and Eddie puts two and two together easily. 

“You were worried it could be something worse,” he finishes for her. Postoperative fevers aren’t unusual—Eddie had his own rough go of it after the surgeon pulled three bullets out of him overseas. He remembers the shivering, the pins and needles, the misery of his body stuck in overdrive while it slowly tried to pull itself back together—but it must be a bad one if it’s got Maddie worried enough for an ER trip. His mind helpfully fills in the blanks on potential complications, all of them scary, none of them pleasant.  

“Yeah,” she replies softly. He hears a little sniff, and he can almost see the way her brows pull together as she tries to stave off the tears, nodding.“Yeah, he just spooked me, is all.” 

Eddie doesn’t waste any time. He hauls himself into the truck in one, swift movement, the handle wet beneath his fingers. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Come over? To the loft,” she asks, then laughs a little. The sound is tired, but helplessly fond. “He wants to sleep in bed, and I can’t carry him up the stairs.” 

Well, okay. Neither can Eddie. But somehow he doesn’t think she would appreciate that sentiment right now, when she’s so clearly trying to make her little brother less miserable in an already pretty fucking miserable situation. A tight knot, hidden and tucked snugly against the underside of his sternum gives a ferocious little tug when he realizes that he was the person she thought to call to make that happen. 

And he would try, if it really came down to it. He would carry Buck up those god awful stairs, leg cast and all, if it meant that his best friend was just a little less miserable. 

Eddie would’ve picked that ladder truck up and thrown it down the street for Buck, if it was within his power. 

“Curse of being short,” he jokes instead of saying any of that, and it earns him a scoff of protest, light with surprise. It’s a genuine thing, though, and helps that knot in his chest loosen, just a little. “Give me a few minutes to pick up some things. I’ll be over in ten.” 

On the drive over he calls Pepa, explaining the situation and letting her know that he’s going to have to pick up Christopher in the morning instead of tonight. He feels bad that she had to stay up so late waiting only for him to call off at the last minute, but she swiftly assuages his guilt, citing that she’s happy to let the little boy sleep. 

“We’re fine here, Edmundo. Don’t worry about us,” she says, tone steady and patient, and he feels like he can breathe a little easier for it. “In the morning I will have some caldo de pollo for you to bring to your boy. It will help him feel much better.” 

At first Eddie thinks she means Christopher. But before he can open his mouth to correct her on the fact that Buck is not his boy, just a good friend and work partner, Pepa is wishing him goodnight and ending the call with a long, overexaggerated yawn. Eddie snorts, wishing her a good night and ending the call with a press of his thumb. 

In the following silence, he can’t help the sound of disbelief that huffs out of his lungs, shaking his head. 

Buck. His boy. 

He sits with that thought as he drives, tires swirling through the steam drifting listlessly off the sleepy, wet streets of LA. A slow seeping warmth begins to spread from where that knot is pulling loose in his chest, making its way into his limbs, buzzing and heavy. Grip on the wheel tightening, he feels the muscle jump in his jaw.  

Despite the fact that it feels like sinking, it’s not claustrophobic. If anything, it feels snug, like stability. Like being held. 

He doesn’t know why that scares him so much.

By the time he parks and is walking up to the loft, he’s literally shaking out his arms to get rid of the feeling. He stops as soon as he realizes, feeling silly. Eddie takes the stairs two at a time to get to Buck’s floor, his gym bag bumping against his hip where it’s swinging from his shoulder. He manages to wrestle the feeling back down by the time he makes it to the door. 

He knocks, even though he has a key, but with Maddie inside it just feels better to knock. Like he’s offering her some control in a situation she already has very little over. Her brother is sick and hurting, and she’s the one who has the power to open the door and let Eddie in to help. He can give her that, at least.

He doesn’t have to wait for long. He’s barely lifted his knuckles from the wood when the door is swinging open to reveal Maddie on the other side, looking both so elated and so deeply tired that Eddie’s heart aches a little at the sight of her. 

“Thank you for coming,” she says the second she opens the door, stepping back to let him inside. “Really, Eddie. I mean it.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, aiming for joking as he steps carefully inside while she shuts the door behind him. Setting his bag down by the island counter, he turns back to her, running his palms down and back up his thighs to stop himself from wringing them together. “Not until he’s up those stairs. How’s he doing?”

“Better now with the Tylenol I just gave him,” Maddie says, keeping her voice soft. She runs a hand through her hair, holding it back out of her face as she fills him in with a sigh. “They said everything looked okay with his stitches, no signs of infection or bad drainage. We’ve been really careful about keeping the cast dry when he showers, so there’s no irritation from water damage. It’s terrible timing, but it really is just a bad cold. There’s not much else we can do but fill him up with cough medicine and hope he doesn’t chew his own leg off from boredom.”

“Easier said than done,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter. After a moment his brows draw together. “You said we?”

“Me and Evan, yeah,” Maddie nods. Her cheeks color a little, but she smiles as she tells him, “Chimney’s been helping me out with bringing meals over, too. Oh, and sometimes Josh comes by after work and we play cards.” 

“What happened to Ali?” It’s out of his mouth before he can think about it, and he watches something in Maddie’s eyes shutter closed like a steel grate. She opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of snuffling from around the loft stairs. 

He exchanges a quick glance with Maddie, eyebrows raised. She only shakes her head, mouth pressed into a thin line, and that’s all Eddie needs to confirm his suspicions about the noticeable lack of girlfriend in Buck’s apartment at the moment. He’s a little relieved, if he’s honest. Ali was nice enough, but Eddie always quietly thought there really wasn’t a lot that she and Buck had in common, besides surviving a 7.1 earthquake.  

It’s easy to push up off the counter and give in to gravitational pull in his chest, the one that pulls him around the loft stairs like a needle compass to true north, to see his best friend bundled up on the couch, groggily sitting up and blinking awake, slowly emerging from underneath a fuzzy purple throw blanket that’s tucked underneath his chin. 

Buck looks, to put it nicely, like warmed up roadkill. It’s only been a week since he left the hospital, and the nasty scrape on his forehead is still healing, purplish green bruising skating down his temple to his chin like an oil spill. The fever is a bright red stain high up on his cheeks, and the soft pink of his mouth, half open already since he can’t breathe through his nose, drops a little further in surprise. He blinks up at Eddie, eyes owlish and blue. “Eddie?” 

It’s more of a croak than his name, but Eddie thinks it might be one of his favorite sounds in the world. 

“Hey, bud,” he says, way softer than he means to, and moves to sit down on the coffee table. He feels a smile pull across his face, and a real one at that. It’s the first time that he hasn’t had to force one in days. “How are you feeling?” 

“‘M fine,” Buck manages, and Eddie winces internally at how congested he sounds. Sniffing uselessly, Buck shuffles a little under his blanket. He swallows before finding his voice again. “What–what’re you doing here?” 

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing.” At Buck’s somewhat glazed, disbelieving stare, Eddie relents. “Maddie called me. Said you weren’t feeling great, and that you needed some help getting up those stairs.” 

At that, Buck frowns, brows drawing in. It looks like it might sting, the way the scab by his eyebrow pulls. “You're not gonna be able to carry me.” 

“Why not?” 

“You’re too short,” Buck states, like it’s obvious. Eddie’s unable to muffle the miffed noise that kicks out of the back of his throat. 

“I am not,” he protests, and it only sounds a little like he’s whining. “I’m six foot!”

“An’ I’m six two,” Buck replies, like that somehow trumps all of Eddie’s firefighting and military experience. He opens his mouth to say as much, but Buck is busy shimmying the blanket back to reveal the awkward, clunky cast that will be chaining him down to that couch for the next three months. “‘Sides,” he says, “can’t carry me with this thing. Too heavy.” 

“Your cast does not weigh a ton, Buck,” Maddie says, crossing over from the kitchen to come perch on the armchair. From her tone it sounds like they’ve had this conversation before. 

“Does too,” Buck mumbles back, so sullen that Eddie has to bite back a smile. “Weighs two tons, probably. No way we make it up the stairs.” 

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you begged me to call Eddie to come carry you, then,” she replies, and Eddie’s brain trips over itself as every thought comes to a screeching halt like a comically long record scratch. 

“Maddie,” Buck whines. “You’re not s’pposed to listen to me. I was loopy on cough medicine.” 

“You’re still loopy on cough medicine,” she reminds him, sounding not sorry at all as she leans over and presses a kiss to the side of his temple that isn’t scraped to shit. Buck turns into it like a flower towards the sun, letting his sister card her fingers gently through his hair. “But look, Eddie’s here now, see? You’re welcome.” 

“Thank you,” Buck grumbles out, and Maddie rolls her eyes in a way that is both long-suffering and inexplicably fond. She leans back, and Buck peeks over at Eddie, almost like he’s shy. “Hi, Eddie.” 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie hears himself say, faintly, because his body is currently trying to manually reboot from the blue screen Maddie just caused.

Buck asked for him. Buck could’ve asked for anybody. Any one of the 118 would’ve picked up Maddie’s call and come running, but Buck didn’t ask for that. 

He asked for Eddie.  

Eddie is not going to lie. It’s no secret that he hasn’t exactly been the most present, lately. He never, ever lets it interfere with his job, because he loves being a firefighter and he cares about the people he works with too much to not give them his everything. He trusts them implicitly to have his back out in the field, and Eddie would rather walk on hot coals in bare feet than let any of his team think he doesn’t have theirs. 

But outside of the job—when he’s not Firefighter Diaz, and all the adrenaline and focus drains out of him, and the only thing he can manage is a threadbare goodbye in the locker rooms before he’s shuffling off at the end of a shift like a goddamn zombie, limbs still moving despite the fact that his skull feels heavy and hollow—when he’s just Eddie? 

Who would ever want just Eddie? 

“Right,” he says, swiftly cutting off that train of thought at the knees. He sits up a little from where he was leaning on his elbows and points at Buck, who blinks at his finger. “We need to get you in bed.”

“I already told you,” Buck groans in a way that sounds suspiciously like Christopher, slumping down to burrow deeper underneath his blanket. It might be Maddie’s, actually, because Eddie doesn’t think Buck has ever owned a single throw blanket in his entire life. Eddie plans on rectifying that immediately. “There’s no way you guys can carry me. You’re—” 

“Too short. Trust us, Buck, we know,” Maddie cuts him off. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie, eyes narrowing pointedly. “Some of us have been told twice.” 

And yeah, okay, Eddie deserves that one. 

He’s surrounded by Buckley sass on all sides tonight, Dios help him. 

“Alright, then,” Eddie says, standing up. Thinking quick on his feet, his eyes dart around as he takes in the shape of the living room. After a moment, he gets an idea. “Here. Maddie, help me move the coffee table?” 

“Oh! Uh, sure,” Maddie’s quick to hop up and help Eddie move the table out of the way in the kitchen. The side table quickly follows that too.   

“Okay, what’s happening?” Buck asks, shuffling to sit back up as Eddie takes the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. He calls, voice strained and craggy,“Why are we tearing apart my living room?” 

“Well, I figure if we can’t bring you to your bed,” Eddie reasons as he comes back downstairs to plop Buck’s comforter and obnoxiously big pillow that he insists helps support his neck right onto his lap. Buck stares, eyes wide and bewildered, and Eddie smiles at him, shrugging. “Then we can bring your bed to you.” 

A few minutes later—with some surprisingly efficient coordination between the two of them and a very good demonstration of geometry skills on Maddie’s part—Eddie and Maddie manage to drag Buck’s king size mattress, sheets and pillows and all, down the stairs and situate it so it’s pressed right up against the couch. Now all Buck has to do is carefully slip down and shimmy a little to get in the center of the mattress, just how he likes. 

Which he does, almost immediately. The second his head hits the pillow Buck is conked out, mouth open and snoring even before Maddie is finished making sure his cast is properly elevated with some more pillows stolen from the couch. 

“Wow,” she says, sounding genuinely impressed a few minutes later when she and Eddie settle at the kitchen island. “I think that’s the fastest he’s gone to sleep since he got home.” 

Eddie just finished turning the lights down low to let Buck sleep, and she presses a warm mug into his hands the moment he sits down. He cradles it gratefully, the sweet warmth of cider filling up his nose a pleasant surprise. There’s a specific kind that Eddie likes from a small farmer’s market that pops up by the firehouse every so often. He didn’t know Buck still had some. 

“Seriously?” he asks, surprised, and she nods around a slow sip from her own mug. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Buck doesn’t exactly know how to sit still,” she says, and he can’t help the laugh he lets out, air leaving his nose in a soft huff. Maddie smiles at him. “That hasn’t changed much since he was a kid. God, he used to toss and turn for hours. Especially when he was sick.” 

“That’s a little harder to do with a full leg cast,” Eddie points out, and she hums in agreement. 

“The only way I could get him to sleep is if I let him sleep in bed with me,” she admits, gaze drifting over to where Buck is starfished out on his mattress. Her eyes are warm, if not a little sad. “Then at least he would stay still, otherwise I threatened to kick him out if he kept wiggling around. But he’d go right to sleep, curled up next to me.” 

Eddie can picture it. The two of them, small and young, huddled together beneath a blanket, Maddie’s arm curled around Buck’s shoulders, his nose pressed into her hair. Offering the delicate heat of their own bodies to create a bigger, better warmth together. 

“He always got me sick afterwards, too. But I didn’t mind,” Maddie says, smiling a little. She adds, quieter, almost to herself, “I think he always sleeps better, knowing somebody he loves is close.” 

Unbidden, Eddie thinks of all the times he’s watched Buck drop into bed in the bunkroom and not move an inch. Stretched out on his stomach in a way that is sure to give him back problems later on, sheets pulled haphazardly up around his waist, clinging to his pillow. 

He thinks about how many times he’s watched Hen pause to adjust the sheets until they were pulled up to Buck’s ears as she passed by to go to her own bunk. How many times he’s watched Bobby turn off the lamp by Buck’s head if he forgot to before he fell asleep. How many times Eddie himself has absentmindedly straightened out Buck’s boots while he unties the laces of his own, watching his friend’s back rise and fall every time he breathes. 

Not once, during any of those moments, did Buck ever stir. 

“My mom would quarantine us as kids. My sisters and I,” Eddie says. He doesn’t even mean to, but then Maddie’s turning those big, brown eyes on him, attentive and open and listening, and he just keeps going. “Five people in one house like that, no way was she dealing with three sick kids at once. Four, actually, if my dad caught it too.” 

Maddie laughs at that, and Eddie smiles at her. He tells her, “Problem was, there were only two kids' bedrooms, right? Mine, and the room my sisters shared. So whoever got sick got stuck in my room, and the other two would have to share Sophia and Adriana’s. And my mom—she treated any illness like it was the worst thing to ever happen. Even if it was just a cold, it might as well have been la plaga de la muerte. We weren’t allowed anyone near that bedroom, and whoever was stuck inside wasn’t allowed out until their temperature was back below a hundred degrees.” 

“What about eating? Like breakfast and dinner?” Maddie asks, and Eddie shrugs. 

“She’d leave a tray at the door. Food, water, meds, she’d drop it off and knock.” 

“And what about going to the bathroom?” 

“Alright, she wasn’t that crazy,” Eddie laughs, and Maddie holds up her hands in mock surrender. 

“Okay! Okay, just making sure,” she says, and watches him while he takes a slow sip from his mug for a few beats. The cider warming his belly, he almost misses it when she asks, “Did your parents really just let you deal with being sick alone like that?” 

“Not always,” he says. “My dad had this trick, to help with congestion. He’d take a washcloth, soak it in hot water, and then drape it over your face so you could breathe in the steam and alleviate some of the pressure. It worked, at least for a few minutes anyway. He didn’t do it a lot, didn’t want to get caught by my mom, I think. But I remember him sitting with me, sometimes. Just holding my hand.” 

He thinks about being six, and seven, and nine years old, alone in his bedroom, shivering ferociously while his body fought off the illness. He thinks about the relief he felt, blindly clutching at a big, calloused hand in that warm darkness where he could finally breathe again. He thinks about dreading the moment when the washcloth went cold, and his father’s touch would slip away.

“I don’t remember when he stopped doing it,” he says, and knows it’s a lie the second it’s out of his mouth. He knows exactly when. It was the same time Ramon sat him down and told him it was time for him to step up, to become a real man. “I was ten, I think.”  

“That’s—” Maddie starts, then stops, and something about her tone makes him look up. She’s already looking at him when their eyes meet. There’s no pity, in her gaze. Just heaviness, and a profound sense of understanding. 

“That sounds really lonely, Eddie,” she says gently, and Eddie thinks it should feel it like a punch to the gut. If it was anyone else saying it, he's pretty sure the gravity of that statement would have him doubling over in his seat. 

“It was,” he admits quietly, surprising himself. 

Eyes hot, Eddie blinks, suddenly finding it very difficult to continue meeting her gaze. He looks over at where Buck is sleeping, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the comforter. He finds himself trying to match his own breathing to that steady rhythm, seamless and slow. 

“The truth is I would’ve given anything to have someone stay with me, like you did for him,” he says, looking back at her, and Maddie’s whole expression crumples in on itself, her lip wobbling a little as she nods. She reaches out across the counter, palm up, fingers open. Offering her own warmth out to him. 

Eddie slides his hand into hers without a second thought, squeezing tight. She squeezes back, and the heat created between their palms makes Eddie feel steadier than he has in months. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, just holding on to one another, until Maddie’s phone chirps from the kitchen counter. Sniffing a little, she pulls back and reaches for it, not without giving his fingers one last squeeze. Eddie does her the courtesy of not pointing out the stray tear that’s running down her chin, too busy wiping at his own. 

“Shit,” Maddie says succinctly, and Eddie looks over at her in alarm. 

“What?” 

“Chimney just texted,” she says, grimacing at her phone like it just personally insulted her. “He’s asking if he should bring over breakfast tomorrow. I completely forgot to tell him I have a shift in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” he repeats, and she nods, expression turning sheepish. She looks a whole awful lot like Buck, when she’s smiling like that. He checks the time on his phone. “Maddie, you need to go home and sleep.” 

“I was going to!” She stresses, just barely catching herself from raising her voice. Her eyes dart over to where her brother is still sleeping soundly before she turns back to him, leaning in with a half stage whisper. “I was going to. But then everything with Buck came up, and I—” 

She cuts herself off with a huff, running a hand through her hair as she shakes her head. “You didn’t see him earlier when I got back. He was so sick, Eddie. His fever was so bad he couldn’t even get up to get to the medicine cabinet. I can’t just leave him here alone. What if—” 

“I’ll stay,” Eddie offers, automatically. Easily. “I can stay with him tonight.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Maddie says. “What about Christopher? Don’t you need to pick him up?” 

“You’re not asking. I’m happy to do it,” he says, already waving away her concerns as gently as he can. “And tomorrow’s Saturday anyway. Pepa will be happy to hold on to Chris for a little longer. She and my tío Paco will make him migas for breakfast and ruin my chance of ever getting him to eat my omelets again.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, worrying at her bottom lip. Carefully, Eddie reaches out across the counter and holds out his hand just like she had before, palm up. She interlaces their fingers without a moment of hesitation, and he squeezes tightly. 

“I’m sure,” he promises, and after a moment she nods, squeezing back. 

Maddie leaves shortly after that. Eddie helps her gather up her purse and other things while she tiptoes around the mattress in the living room to kiss Buck’s forehead and whisper goodbye. He snuffles a little in his sleep, turning towards her voice, but otherwise doesn’t stir. 

She hugs him tight before she goes, which stuns Eddie for all of two seconds before he’s folding his arms around her, her hair tickling his chin. She makes him promise to call her if they need anything, even if it’s in the middle of the night, and then she’s gone out the door, leaving only the warmth of her embrace in her wake. 

And then it’s just Eddie, standing in the entryway of the loft, his best friend sleeping soundly behind him.

The first thing Eddie does is text Pepa that he’ll be a little later in picking up Chris in the morning. It’s late enough now that she’ll have gone to sleep at this point, but he trusts she’ll see it when she wakes up, and that’s enough for him. He also asks her to send him her migas con huevos recipe, which he’ll no doubt butcher the shit out of, but it’s something he and Chris can do over the weekend together. Maybe they can bring Buck over the leftovers, if they’re not burnt.

The second thing he does is shower. Maddie was polite enough not to say anything when they hugged, but he knows he’s more than a little ripe after coming off a twenty-four hour shift. He uses the upstairs bathroom in an attempt to keep the noise down. Buck, who’s currently snorting like a war horse in his sleep, doesn’t seem to mind. 

Rinsing off the sweat and worry of the day, he only feels a little bad about using Buck’s body wash. It’s a nice smell—sandalwood, and something that kind of reminds Eddie of orange zest and fresh oatmeal. 

Stepping out of the bathroom in a towel, it dawns on him that he doesn’t have a change of clothes. He has his street clothes that he could change back into, but he’s not exactly thrilled at the idea of sleeping in jeans tonight. 

So instead, he just digs out a pair of sleep shorts from Buck’s dresser and a T-shirt that he doesn’t think Buck will mind him wearing. It’s a little big in the shoulders—with a faded image of Bruce Springsteen’s fingers curled around the neck of his guitar plastered on the front, a silver bracelet drooping over the back of his hand—but it’ll do. 

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, for a moment. He can’t turn on the TV with Buck sleeping in the living room, not that there’s much of anything he’d be interested in watching at this hour. Plus, Buck doesn’t have Hulu so he can’t put on old baseball reruns on ESPN. 

He briefly considers making himself a cup of coffee, or some more of that cider, but ultimately decides against it. The day has been long, and only made longer by Maddie’s sudden call, so Eddie decides to follow Buck’s lead and crash. 

He fishes around in his gym bag until he finds his earbuds, then moseys over to the couch after turning off the lights, using the dim glow of his phone screen to lead the way. Taking up the throw blanket Buck abandoned for his comforter, Eddie gets himself situated on the couch, tucking one earbud into his ear. There’s a mystery podcast that Buck has been raving about for a while, and Eddie thinks it’ll make the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. 

Turning on his side to get comfortable while the host starts up a lulling, ominous monologue about strange weather phenomena in his ear, Eddie takes a minute to catalogue Buck’s sleeping form below him, slack jawed and snoring. His head is turned away from Eddie, so he can just make out the light stubble on Buck’s jaw. His hair is going to be a wild mess come morning, and Eddie smiles a little at the perfect little curl he can see resting against Buck’s pillow above his head. 

Because he’s unable to flip flop around like a restless pancake, Buck’s taken to fidgeting with his arms. He’s got one hand up by his head on the pillow, the other arm is stretched completely out across the mattress by Eddie’s head on the couch. His palm is up, fingers splayed out. Reaching, even in sleep.

There’s a small, white scar that curls around the bone of Buck’s wrist. A biking accident, from when he was young. He can’t see it well, but Eddie knows it’s there. He remembers watching Buck thumb at it when he told him, during a slow moment between calls at the firehouse. 

Carefully, so carefully, Eddie reaches out and traces his fingertips over that line, following it to the delicate, paper thin skin over the vein of his wrist, and then up to the life lines of Buck’s palm. Reflexively, Buck’s nerves react to the touch, his fingers curling around Eddie’s in a lax hold. Strangely, Eddie feels his face flood with heat, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. 

For some reason, he doesn’t let go. He ghosts his thumb over the warm skin of Buck’s knuckles, eyelids starting to get heavy as he keeps up the slow, hypnotic motion. 

Maybe Buck’s not the only one who sleeps better, knowing that his loved ones are close by. 

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Eddie is pulled out of his doze by the faint feeling of a warmth pulling away, leaving his fingers cold. Half awake, he reaches for it, but only finds more empty space. 

That gets him awake. Blinking open his eyes—it’s harder to orient himself with the podcast host talking about frogs raining from the sky somewhere over Serbia in his ear—it takes his sleep-addled brain a minute to understand what he’s looking at. 

Buck, who has so far been sleeping like the dead, is sitting up ramrod straight in the dark, not moving. 

“Buck?” Eddie rasps. “You okay?” 

Buck doesn’t answer, which has Eddie’s pulse spiking oddly up into his throat. He rips out the earbud and sits up, straining to turn the lamp on behind the couch so he can see what’s wrong. He twists back around to see that Buck’s eyes are open, staring off into the middle distance with his eyebrows raised, like he’s waiting for something to happen. 

Eddie’s just about to ask again when Buck’s whole face contorts, and suddenly he’s letting out the most ear piercing, earth shattering sneeze that Eddie has ever heard in his life. It has him startling like a horse at the sight of a snake—he nearly jumps half a foot in the air from the sheer power of it alone. 

And Christopher thought Eddie’s dad sneezes were bad. 

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” he gasps, unpeeling himself from the back of the couch, one hand clutched over his chest to calm his racing heart. He laughs, a little strangled by the unnecessary adrenaline. “You couldn’t warn a guy first?”  

“S’rry,” Buck slurs out, so muffled by his hands that Eddie can barely hear him. “My bad.”

“Hey.” Eddie moves forward immediately, setting a hand on Buck’s shoulder when he leans forward, hand cupped around his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Need a tissue,” Buck kind of gurgles, pulling his hands back a little and oh, yep. Yes he does. Eddie quickly throws off his blanket and hops up, hurrying over with the box off the coffee table and plopping it into Buck’s lap. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks after nearly half the tissue box has been demolished, the evidence filling up the bathroom garbage can that Eddie quickly grabbed once the post-snot eruption nose blowing tornado started.

“Guh,” Buck replies eloquently, flopping back down onto his pillow. He lifts his head back up a little after a moment, looking muzzy but more alert. “What time is it?” 

Eddie gives a cursory glance at his phone. “It’s half past eleven.”  

Buck groans, flopping back down with more conviction. “Where’d Maddie go?” 

“She went back home to sleep before her shift tomorrow morning.” Eddie perches on the arm of the couch to look down at Buck, crossing one arm over the other. “You’re stuck with me for the night.” 

“Oh,” is all Buck says to that for a beat. “You don’t–you don’t have to do that. Isn’t it your day off with Chris tomorrow?” 

“Chris is with Pepa,” Eddie says, pointedly ignoring the way the genuine care in Buck’s voice makes his stomach do a complicated somersault maneuver. “And I do have to, actually. I’m under strict orders to keep an eye on you, otherwise your sister will skin me. Probably turn me into a rug or something.”

Buck is quiet for a long moment, absorbing this. Eddie watches him worry at his lip, a little chapped from being sick and dehydrated. He thinks that Buck and Maddie’s habits are practically interchangeable, at this point. 

“She wouldn’t make you into a rug,” Buck says eventually, expression surprisingly serious when he looks up at Eddie again. 

“Oh no?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “What would she make me into, then?”  

“She’d make you into something useful, like a blanket or–or a petticoat,” he says, then honest to god giggles at his own joke. “An Eddie-coat.” 

“A what?” 

“An Eddie-coat,” Buck reiterates, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face like butter. “She’d make you into an Eddie-coat.” 

There’s a moment where neither of them says anything. Eddie stares at him, and Buck immediately breaks first, devolves into nasally, semi-delirious laughter. 

Valiantly fighting off a smile on his own face, Eddie rolls his eyes skyward. “Proud of yourself for that one, huh?” 

“You are too. Don’t act like you aren’t,” Buck beams up at him. “You think I’m hilarious.” 

Eddie purses his lips, cheeks warming, unable to fight back the smile this time, and Buck starts laughing all over again. He gets a little wheezy at the end, and Eddie winces when it turns into a wet, ugly sounding cough. 

“Alright, funny guy,” Eddie says, pushing off his perch. “Where’s that thermometer? We’re checking to see how cooked your brains are.” 

“Kitchen drawer. And my brains aren’t cooked,” Buck protests, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches Eddie root around his kitchen drawers. “Just, like–lightly sautéed, I think.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie comes back over, brandishing the thermometer above his head triumphantly. “I’ll be the judge of that. C’mere.” 

It’s easy to drop down onto the mattress and scooch close, careful not to jostle Buck’s cast too much. They’re practically pressed hip to hip, Buck’s shoulder fitting snugly into the crook of Eddie’s collarbone while they both peer down at the little device in Eddie’s hand. He’s hyper aware of Buck’s breathing when the thermometer beeps, declaring that it’s ready for use. 

“Here,” he murmurs, pulling back a little. He misses the contact almost immediately, but then something—happens. 

Buck looks up at him through his long, honey colored lashes, and he’s opening his mouth to let Eddie check his temperature, and Eddie physically feels it when his heart trips over itself and falls flat on its face. 

And just what the fuck is that all about? 

Vaguely feeling like he’s been plunged under water, Eddie tucks the thermometer under Buck’s tongue, who lets him do it without complaint. They wait the few minutes it takes for the thermometer to beep like that, just watching each other.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Buck asks after the thermometer beeps and breaks the silence. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Eddie squints at the number on the tiny screen. “No cooked brains,” he confirms. “Still a little warm, but that’ll go down with some more meds and sleep.”

“Oh thank god,” Buck sighs, sagging against Eddie’s side, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder. He can feel Buck’s smile through the thin shirt sleeve. “I don’t know what I’d do with cooked brains and a broken leg.” 

Barely breathing, he slides his palm up and down the length of Buck’s spine, turning his head to hide his smile in his friend’s hair. “Somehow, I think you’d manage.” 

Eddie feels a little bit like he’s getting away with something, here. 

They don’t do this. Sure, the occasional slap on the back or shoulder squeeze is fine. Normal. Sometimes Buck’s knee will brush Eddie’s in the engine and Eddie won’t pull away. But none of that leaves Eddie’s mouth dry, or like he’s suddenly too big for his skin, or like he weirdly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, keeping up that steady movement of his hand up and down Buck’s back.

Buck sniffs dejectedly, shrugging, and Eddie dutifully hands him another tissue from the box. 

“What can I do?” he asks, pulling back a little to give Buck some space while he blows his nose.

“Unless you can get me some new sinuses, not much.” Buck tosses the tissue in the trash can, his nose already turning a shade of red that let’s Eddie know it probably hurts like a bitch to blow. “Feels like my whole head is a cork in a champagne bottle.” 

Eddie hums, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. His thoughts drift back to the earlier conversation in the kitchen with Maddie, how easy it had been to share those memories with her, as painful as they are. 

Then he remembers Maddie’s hand squeezing his, the earnest understanding on her face as she met his eye, and he thinks that maybe that pain can be useful for something after all. 

“Can we try something?” he asks. 

“Uh.” Buck pauses, tissue half raised to his nose. “Sure?” 

“Great,” Eddie says, patting him on the back before standing up. “Take off your shirt.” 

“What?” Buck startles, staring after Eddie with wide eyes as he pads around the stairs and into the bathroom. His hands press instinctively to the grey zip up he’s wearing. “Wh–what do you mean take off my shirt?”  

“I mean, I’m going to put a wet washcloth on your face, and I don’t want your shirt to get soaked,” Eddie explains, coming back around to lean on the railing of the stairs. “Where are your washcloths, by the way?” 

“In the upstairs bathroom, second drawer down.” 

When Eddie comes back down, washcloth in hand, Buck hasn’t taken off his shirt. In fact, he’s pulling the sleeves of the zip up further down his hands. His mouth is pulled into a tight, small frown. 

“Buck?” Eddie pauses. “You okay?” 

“What is it supposed to do?” Buck asks, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say it sounds a little bit like he’s stalling. “The washcloth, I mean. How–how does it work?” 

“Oh,” Eddie blinks. “I was gonna soak it in hot water and then kind of drape it over your face. The steam is supposed to help with the pressure, I think. So your congestion will clear up and you can breathe better.” 

Buck is quiet for a long moment, nodding as he takes this in. He won’t look at Eddie, picking anxiously at a stray thread on his sleeve, teeth caught on his lower lip. 

“Hey.” Eddie comes to sit down at the edge of the mattress, ducking his head so he can meet his friend’s downcast gaze. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s not pretty,” Buck blurts out. He looks up, his voice pinched with distress. “The road rash, it—it’s pretty much healed up but it’s not gone yet, and I don’t—” he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath. He shrugs mutely, staring down at his hands.  

After a moment, Eddie sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb finding the crook of his collarbone like a magnet clicking into place. Naturally, easily. 

“I’m a paramedic, Buck,” he says, “I’ve seen way worse than a little road rash.” He smiles gently when Buck huffs, shoulder jumping under Eddie’s palm. “And I can take my shirt off too, if it helps,” he offers, teasing, and that’s enough to make Buck crack a smile. It’s small, but it’s real. 

“That’s okay,” he says, cheeks going a little pink, and Eddie’s really going to have to schedule a visit with his cardiologist, if his heart keeps flopping around in his chest like that. “You can keep your—wait. Is that my Bruce Springsteen shirt?” 

“Uhm.” And now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel uncomfortably hot, apparently. He hopes he’s not catching Buck’s cold already. He pulls back, nodding. “Yeah, I didn’t have any clothes to change into after work, so I borrowed one. If that’s okay.” 

“No, no—um,” Buck waves a hand awkwardly, face turning beet red as he gestures at Eddie’s person. “You’re good. It—yeah, it looks good. On you. You’re good.” 

“Thank you.” Now that they’ve both successfully embarrassed the hell out of themselves, Eddie motions with the hand holding the washcloth towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna—go get this wet.”

“Yep,” Buck says, nodding like a bobblehead. “Yeah, go right ahead.” 

“Great,” Eddie says, then all but flees to the bathroom. 

A few deep breaths and a pointed glare at his reflection in the mirror to fucking get it together, Diaz , later, Eddie leaves the washcloth in the sink with the hot water running, letting it soak while he comes back out to help Buck to stand up, careful not to let him twist or bump his cast in an awkward way while he gets his footing, leaning heavily on Eddie’s shoulder. 

He carefully does not react when Buck’s shirt comes off. Just stands steady while Buck shrugs out of his zip up, then keeps a firm hold of Buck’s back, acting as a dutiful crutch while his friend slowly works the black T-shirt off one sleeve at a time, and then pulls it up and over his head. 

There’s a violent roadmap of healing scrapes that starts on the pale skin of Buck’s hip and glides all the way up his torso, just stopping shy of the curve of his armpit before continuing on the soft, vulnerable underside of his arm all the way up to his elbow. If he wanted to, Eddie could trace the exact line of where Buck's body dragged when the truck skidded on its side. 

“Maddie cried, the first time she saw it.” Eddie drags his eyes up to see Buck already watching him. He smiles, sad. “She tried to hide it, but I—I think I scared her pretty good.”  

“She’s your big sister, Buck. She’s always going to worry about you,” Eddie says, carefully helping Buck slide his good arm around his shoulders, hand wrapping around Buck’s wrist, the other securely on Buck’s hip, careful not to press his fingers into any bruises. 

“And you don’t scare me,” he adds, softer, and Buck looks over at him, something so painfully earnest and open in his expression that Eddie wants to fold himself around his friend like a protective layer and shield him from all the awful in the world. 

Maybe Buck was onto something, earlier. Because from where he’s sitting, being made into an Eddie-coat doesn’t sound so bad right about now. 

The shuffle into the bathroom is a slow one, but with the warm line of Buck’s body pressed from hip to shoulder against him, Eddie finds he doesn’t really mind. 

After some debate, they get Buck situated on the bathroom floor with a pillow for him to sit on with Eddie sitting on the lip of the tub, Buck’s back against Eddie’s shins so he can easily tip his head back and rest against his knees. 

“You ready?” Eddie asks, unballing the washcloth carefully after wringing out the excess water in the tub behind him. It’s just a little too warm against his fingertips, steam coming off the fabric in fleeing, wispy curls. 

“Mhm,” Buck nods. He cranes his neck a little to look up at Eddie, squinting a little. “Am I supposed to do anything specific, or–?” 

“Nope,” Eddie replies, smiling down at him. “Just close your eyes and breathe. The steam will do all the work for you.”

“Okay.” Buck wiggles a little more to get comfortable. He lets his eyes slide shut, murmuring, “go ahead.” 

“Alright. Hold still.” 

Very gently, Eddie drapes the washcloth over Buck’s face, making sure that it covers his nose and eyes, smoothing out the edges on Buck’s forehead, just against his hairline. He makes sure it doesn’t sit too heavily over his mouth, just in case Buck starts feeling claustrophobic. 

A few stray water droplets immediately race over the curve of Buck’s chin and down his neck, pooling in the hollow of his throat. Eddie chases after one that slips down his cheek, stopping it from rolling into his ear with a soft swipe of his thumb. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks after a moment. 

Buck shifts, voice a little muffled. “It’s okay.”  

“Okay?” Eddie echoes. “Not too hot, or anything like that?”   

“Mm-mm, it’s good.” Buck takes a deep breath, then lets it go slowly, steam billowing off the fabric like a sleeping dragon lay beneath. After a second, he asks, “Can you shift forward a little? My neck kind of hurts.”

“Sure, here.” Carefully, he cradles Buck’s head in his hands and shifts his legs forward more, so Buck can lean back fully against his shins. Eddie gently starts massaging Buck’s temple with his thumbs, using slow, sweeping motions against the pressure he knows is built up there. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Buck sighs, melting into it. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.” 

They stay like that for a beat, Eddie keeping up his ministrations before Buck’s curiosity is piqued enough for him to ask. “Where’d you even learn this from?” 

“Old Diaz family trick,” Eddie tells him, mouth quirking. “Waterboard your children while they’re ill so they can’t fight back.” 

That earns him a proper laugh, genuine and surprised and endearingly nasal, and the sound is so sweet that it warms Eddie straight through. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Buck sniffs, sounding clearer than he has all night. He takes another deep breath, much easier this time. “Oh, wow,” he says. “It really does work.” 

“See? What’d I tell you?” Eddie smiles, pleased. “You gotta trust me on these things, Buck.” 

Buck curls his arm around Eddie’s leg, fingers warm against the skin of his shin. Not squeezing, just holding on, thumb mirroring the sweeping motion of Eddie’s against Buck’s temple. It’s the same spot, Eddie registers distantly, where Buck’s surgery scar is hidden beneath his cast. 

“It’s you, Eds,” Buck murmurs. “I always trust you.” 

Eddie is suddenly so thankful that Buck cannot see his face, because it feels a little bit like he just got kicked in the chest by a mule. 

If he had been standing up, the force of it would have him bowing over. Instead he just sits there, staring down at his friend’s covered face with equal parts amazement and terror, and that’s when it hits him. 

He’s afraid of it—this implicit trust that Buck is so willingly giving him. Eddie is terrified of it, and the force of it startles him, but he doesn’t shy away. In fact, he welcomes it, feeling almost dizzy with relief. Because for the first time in his life, Eddie is wanted not for what he can give, or what role he can fill, or how well he can provide. 

Buck asked for Eddie because he is exactly that—just Eddie. 

The truth is ever since Shannon passed Eddie has had a hard time with feeling—not needed, but. Something close to it. A word like wanted feels like too much, too selfish. Useful, maybe. 

He couldn’t stop her from getting hit by that car that day, couldn’t even ease her pain, because by the time he got there there was no more pain for her to feel. The best he could do was twine their fingers together, clutching helplessly in a desperate attempt to give her his warmth, even as she grew colder by the minute, and stand there and listen to her tell him how much she wanted to stay, even as she was in the middle of leaving. 

Eddie couldn’t stop the ladder truck from blowing up, either. He could only stand there and watch as Buck came to, blood gushing down his face with grime caught in his fluttering eyelashes. He’d never felt more helpless than when he watched his best friend realize he was crushed under nearly fourteen tons of lifesaving equipment and metal, while Bobby talked down the bomber not even ten feet away. 

He couldn’t stop Buck from needing surgery, or the fever and illness that followed. But Eddie can be here, in the aftermath. He can fetch tissues for his friend’s poor nose, and drag Buck’s bigass mattress down the stairs so he can sleep more comfortably, and he can use the tricks from the rare moments he received his father’s warmth in childhood and make that old, familiar achy pain into something useful, something good. 

Eddie can be good. 

Maybe he always has been. 

Buck certainly seems to think so. Maddie, too. So maybe it’s time Eddie starts believing it himself, if only a little. 

The washcloth has cooled some, in the time it took Eddie to work himself into and back out of his miniature panic spiral, the steam no longer fleeing the fabric as rapidly as before. Eddie decides to relieve Buck of its weight before it can get too uncomfortable. 

“Buck,” Eddie says softly. “I’m going to take off the washcloth now, okay?” 

Buck doesn’t answer, the slow, even rise and fall of his chest telling Eddie that he’s probably dozing under there. Even dragons need their beauty sleep. At least he’s not snoring yet. 

“Buck?” he asks, a little louder. “You with me?” 

Buck’s answer is an incomprehensible, sleepy mumble. Eddie huffs a laugh through his nose, taking that as permission, and gently peels back the lukewarm washcloth from his friend’s face. He leans over and hands it up on the tub spout to dry before taking Buck’s head back up in both his hands, gently scratching at his scalp in apology for jostling him. 

Buck’s head is a heavy weight in his hands, and Eddie takes a few seconds to just take him in. His cheeks are still flush, more from the heat of the steam than the fever, now. Droplets of water have beaded on the sloping bridge of his nose and across the delicate skin below his eyes. It reminds Eddie of the constellations in Christopher’s favorite astronomy book as a kid—the one with holes punched in the pages that you can shine a light through and project them onto the ceiling. 

The proximity to the steam has made the edges of Buck's hair curlier than it already was, and Eddie's heart gets all sorts of warm behind his ribs because it reminds him so much of Chris's hair, too. He cards his fingers through it, and Buck hums, a warm, happy sound, and Eddie wants to be the one responsible for Buck making that noise for the rest of his life. 

He’s not really thinking when he leans down and presses his lips to the unscathed skin on Buck’s temple, checking his temperature the same way he’s done a thousand times with his son whenever he’s sick. Buck’s skin is warm and damp, but no unnatural heat is rising off him. It’s safe to say his fever’s finally broken. Feeling triumphant, Eddie presses a satisfied, lingering kiss to Buck’s hairline, smiling a little to himself. 

“Eddie?” Buck whispers. 

Oh, is the first thought Eddie has as he freezes in place, lips still brushing against Buck’s skin. 

The second, much more important thought he has is, oh no. 

Eddie’s breath stalls out in his lungs. He pulls back, eyes wide, and finds Buck staring right back.

“Hi,” Buck breathes. Up this close, he can see the starburst pattern in the blue of Buck’s irises around his pupil. It almost reminds Eddie of a nebula, or a flower. Light and life, blooming out. Reaching, reaching, reaching. 

Eddie opens his mouth, but his voice is being strangled somewhere beyond his back molars. He shuts it, swallowing. He whispers back, “Hey, Buck.” 

“Sorry I fell asleep on you,” Buck says, and it’s so not what Eddie was expecting that it bursts the bubble of anxiety that was forming inside his lungs, and all the air it was holding back leaves in a rush of relief. 

“That��s okay,” Eddie replies. He thinks he’s going to let Buck fall asleep on him whenever he wants for the rest of his life, forever. “I don’t mind being a pillow.” 

“Um,” Buck blinks a few times, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he finds his voice again, it’s low, a little grainy from his illness. It makes Eddie’s stomach flutter. “Did—did you kiss me, just now?”

Tongue like a balloon in his mouth, Eddie nods. “I was checking your temperature,” he explains, like that excuses anything at all. “Dad habit. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Buck says quickly. His eyes dark down to Eddie’s lips, then back up, lightning quick. He asks, voice soft and small, “Can you check it again?” 

Eddie feels his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. “You want me to?” 

“Yes,” Buck says, nodding frantically. “Yes I want you to.”  

So Eddie does. He checks Buck’s temperature above his left eyebrow, then his right, the bridge of his nose and each eye, both cheeks and even the divot of his chin. He kisses all of those little drops of starlight right off of Buck’s skin, savoring their taste, amazed that he’s even allowed to at all. Even more amazed when Buck chases after him and their nose knock, and then Eddie kisses it again in apology. 

They’re both smiling when he pulls back, giggling like children. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over how brilliant Buck’s smile is, bright and pleased and perfect. He’s pretty sure his own smile makes him look like an idiot. 

“You ready to get off this bathroom floor?” Eddie asks, failing to beat back the giddiness trying to escape his every pore. 

“Actually,” Buck says around a yawn, arching his back in a stretch before turning his nose to nudge against Eddie’s bare knee, eyes sliding shut. “I think I’m good right here.” 

Eddie’s smile only gets bigger. “You don’t want to wait until you’re back in bed?” 

“Can’t hear you. Too busy sleeping.” 

“Oh really?” Eddie muses. “After all that trouble Maddie and I went through to drag that mattress down those stairs?” 

That makes Buck open his eyes again, and then Eddie watches as his best friend’s expression sort of just—melts, lip wobbling for half a second before he catches it, swallowing hard. 

Eddie’s smile starts to slip. “What?” 

It takes Buck a few seconds to find his voice. When he finally does, his expression is so painfully sincere that it looks like it hurts. 

“You made me a couch-bed,” he says simply, staring up at Eddie in such awe that Eddie can’t help it. He laughs, soft and relieved, and feeling infinitely lighter than he has in months. Before Buck can get the wrong idea, he leans down and presses another kiss right against the strawberry pink of Buck’s birthmark. 

“It’s you, Buck,” he says, shrugging, a fond smile growing on his face as he stares down into those big, earnest baby blues. “It’s always you.”

That seems to do it for Buck, because the next thing Eddie knows he’s being pulled down and Buck is surging up and crushing their mouths together in a kiss. The angle is awkward, and their noses bump together hard enough that Eddie’s eyes water, but he doesn’t even care because Buck’s lips are warm against his, and everything about it is goofy and wonderful and perfect but there’s just one problem.

“Oh, no, Buck—come on,” Eddie rips himself away as soon as he remembers, leaning back and wiping at his mouth as Buck laughter fills up the tiny bathroom. He groans, “You’re going to get me sick.” 

“Sorry,” Buck says, not sounding sorry at all, the bastard. “Couldn’t wait.”  

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Eddie shakes his head, pinching Buck’s side playfully till he twists, swatting at Eddie’s hand with a gasped out laugh. “C’mon, let’s get you in that couch-bed.” 

“Only if you be my pillow,” Buck replies, practically beaming, and who is Eddie to deny an injured man what he wants? 

Buck is out like a light the second Eddie gets him back into some warm sleep clothes, and Eddie can’t help but smile at the way his friend sighs like an overworked puppy when he finally settles down into bed, feeling all kinds of gooey and fond at the sight of him. 

In the morning they’ll talk about it. They’ll have to. But for now, Eddie is content to turn off the lights in the loft and crawl into bed beside his best friend, his partner. His boy. 

The second he settles, Buck shifts, turning his head to tuck his snotty nose against the hinge of Eddie’s jaw, and in that moment Eddie doesn’t even care if it gets him sick, so long as he can keep being the warmth that Buck reaches for in sleep.

[lottielov3r]

prom?

summary- you gain the courage to ask your best friend to prom

warnings: yall this is long asf. fluff, its been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS, andd i rushed the end im sorry😔

1000+ word count.

you watched this little blonde girl trip over a rock and scrape her knee when she looked up at you with tears welling in her eyes, you immediately felt like you needed to help. you pushed up your glasses as you walked over to her and took some tissues out of your bag and helped dab the blood before deciding on what to say, "i'm y/n. i'm sorry you scraped your knee but you should be alright. what's your name?" she looked up as you flash small grin her way, "i'm jackie."

ever since that day in kindergarten, you and jackie had been inseparable, you were always there to protect her and she was always there to support you. you started going over to her house after school to play dolls which changed to watching movies, to playing video games, and now to cooking for her, driving her around town, and looking at her with a different type of love in your eyes.

you listen to the smiths as you pull up to her house, texting her that you were there. you push up your glasses and you tap the steering wheel as you watch her strut her way over to your car in a casual "shopping outfit", as she liked to call it. when she gets in she kisses you on the cheek, leaving a small mark of lip gloss which causes you to groan and wipe it off. "um excuse me? since when do you wipe off my kisses?" she says with a slight offended expression. "since jeff pinned me against my locker and asked me why you were kissing me on the cheek but you know i don't actually mind." you smile as you pull out of her driveway, heading towards the mall.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence, tv girl playing in the background, as you navigated the roads towards the mall.

"speaking of jeff, did he ask you to prom yet?" you watch as jackie frowns slightly at your question but tries to keep her composure. "uh no he hasn't, we haven't talked in a while actually, i think we're broken up right now but anyway. i think i'll just go with shauna and lottie, they don't have dates." you frown slightly at her words but you know she doesn't mean any harm when she doesn't bring up going with you, dances aren't really your thing anyway. "oh. yeah that's cool, it's next weekend right? maybe i can help you look for dresses in the mall?" you raise your eyebrows when her face lights up, knowing y'all will be in there for hours. "oh my god! yes totally good idea!"

you pull into the mall, getting out and walking into the nearest store. you help her review many dresses in many, many, many, colors. you turn around for the 19th time as you wait for her to finish trying on a dress. "okay turn around." you sigh as you turn around expecting to see an upset jackie but instead you see the most beautiful dress ever, she looks at you expectantly as you stare in awe, jaw slightly dropped. "i-i mean wow jackie. you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress, jeff missed out." she wraps her arms around your neck, blushing slightly, pushing your glasses up your face slightly. "you really think i look good in this?" she mutters in a slightly shy tone, you know she's just looking for some form of validation. "yeah, that dress will make anyone fall in love with you." you chuckle out, still taken aback from how it looked on her.

"even you?" you stare into her eyes at her words, you know you can't tell her that the dress isn't needed for you to fall in love, that you're already falling, that you've already fallen. "yea jax, even me." she grins at your words and pulls you down into a hug, sighing in your ear when you wrap your arms around her waist. "wanna watch bojack horseman at my place? you pick what we eat." you smile as she shakes her head yes. the two of you head back to your place but not before getting some shitty mall food. y'all watch netflix for hours until shes falling asleep on your shoulder, you shake her slightly in hopes to wake her up. "let me take you home, alright? put your shoes on." she groans as she drags herself to your car, getting in the back and laying down. when you pull into her driveway she mutters a small goodbye and blows a kiss your way when she reaches the front door.

now, you know that you shouldn't even be THINKING about going to prom because dances are not your thing plus jackies the popular team captain. you're just someone who is lucky enough to be her best friend. but when you realize that it's your senior year and you just couldn't miss out on seeing jackie in that dress again, you absolutely had to. you drove to walmart, bought a poster board, a net, a soccer ball, and other supplies. when you get home you get to work, it takes you three hours, and some tears, to finally be satisfied with the poster.

the next day at school you decide that after practice would be a good time to do it, that way the whole school wouldn't see if you got rejected. you know jackie will probably say yes but as you're walking up to the field you feel like bile is collecting in the back of your throat. you watch as she walks into the locker room and take your chance. you grab the poster and ball out of the bleachers, run from across the field and stand in front of the locker room door, praying that jackie walks out first. you hold your breath when the door opens, ready to speak until your eyes widen at the sight of taissa and van. "we're already going together but you can join us if you'd like." van says with a snicker, taissa elbowing her with a laugh. "i'm assuming this is for jackie?" she says as she points a finger at your poster. "yea it is, do you think she'll like it? i kinda rushed it but she doesn't have an official date and i wanted to ask her." you ramble out before you hear a soft gasp. you watch as taissa moves to the side to reveal a teary-eyed jackie. "oh uh.." you push your glasses up and glance down towards the sign thinking about if you should just say it's for someone else to avoid being rejected.

"is that for me?" jackie questions in a breathy tone, looking surprised. "yea, i just noticed that you seemed down about not having a date and honestly i wanted to ask you. dances aren't really my thing but you're my best friend and i just had to take you." you ramble out in a strung together sentences. she looks dumbfounded as she opens her mouth and closes it again, trying to get words out. taissa and van look in between you and jackie expectantly, silently hoping she'll say yes. you gulp as jackie walks up to you and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss on the cheek.

"was that a yes orrr?" you whisper playfully. jackie gives you an award-winning smile before nodding her head and licking her lips subtly. you stare at her lips feeling like it was just the two of you in this moment, like nobody could break the string tying you together. you lean in and kiss her lips, dropping the poster as you go to grasp her hips, you head swimming with love. you hear van let out a wolf-whistle as you pull away after a few seconds, your face heating up. "was that okay?" jackie questions as she looks up at you. "more than okay. still didn't get my yes though." she giggles at you before grabbing the ball you decorated, "if you can score this into the goal then i'll say yes!" she yells as she takes off to the field. "jackie what the hell!" you say as you sprint after her.

you guys were out there for an hour before finally getting her to say "yes."

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

im gonna work on shorter fics yall i swear😭🙏 just let me get a grip first

and thanks to the anon who requested it, i hope it meets your expectations even though it's not exactly what you requested (sorry!)

[212-apricity]

mastermind, part ten

(guys i just realised i’ve had this thing marinating in my drafts for like a day i swear i posted it omg i’m so sorry anyways💀💀💀)

i go back to school on monday im literally gonna cry i cant do this any more like💀💀

anyways i just kind of wanted to say that bc its literally depressing me now but heres part ten of mastermind😍🙌🙌

i hope you guys enjoy it and i kinda hate the ending but i have too man things ti revise for in school so…

anyways love you guys😘😘😘

warnings: kinda gruesome in the beginning (like a tiny bit) and hurt/comfort but i think thats it!!

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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His hands are frantic inside the sheets, trying to find your body. The damp hair falling into his eyes makes it difficult to see and his labored breathing isn’t helping either.

He sits up after feeling the cold side of the bed and shoves his hair back. His nightmares have only gotten worse the closer to Voldemort you get, memories from his father, leaving you, from the manor and fears of losing you plagued his mind every day. You were normally the only one to drag him from this kind of torture, keeping him close to your chest and speaking soothing phrases into his hair as your fingertips traced their own tattoos on his skin. But ever since he left that night he hasn’t felt that warmth and any progress you two had made in helping him get better was quickly washed away. Sometimes he’d be so distracted from the horrors he’d still think you were there; however even when his eyes adjust to the moonlit room you’re still nowhere to be seen, the spot on the bed empty and cold.

He throws off the blankets and grabs his wand on the desk next to the bed, frantic. He shakes the thoughts from his head. This was exactly like his nightmare, he’d awoken to discover you missing from his bed, only to find your bloody body laying on another bed.

He doesn’t even bother calling for help, his focus is on finding you, and quick.

The tent is eerily quiet tonight…or was it early morning? He couldn’t tell. He has a death grip on his wand, clenching so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He goes down the stairs, the cool air of the house causing the hair on his neck to stand and his fear grow. He tries to calm down, assume with a clean mind how and where to find you, but the nightmare was too vibrant, everytime he’d closed his eyes to try to take a chilled breath all he noticed turned into your lifeless eyes.

He can hear the crackling of the fire in the living room when he reaches the lowest of the steps, the warm light drawing him closer.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding while he sees you curled up on the massive sofa under a warm blanket with a book in your hands. You look up on the sound, alarmed, but your eyes quickly soften once they see Theo.

He watches your eyes go from adoring to confused when you notice the wand in his hand, pointing straight at you. 

Something’s wrong. You can immediately tell by his stance, rigid and stiff, not like he always is when hes just woken up, all soft and cuddly. His hair is a mess and from where you’re sitting across the room you can see his chest heaving.

“Theo?” your stomach drops. What’s going on? Was someone hurt? You quickly throw the blanket off, ready to rush over to him when his shoulders drop with relief. He tosses the wand to the armchair next to him as he stalks forward quickly.

You walk toward him as he comes in contact with you, holding you tightly, engulfing you into him as he kisses the top of your head and buries his head in your neck. You can feel his heart racing a million miles an hour as he breathes in deep, trying to calm down before his breathing got worse.

You tuck him into yourself, dropping the book you were reading to the floor beside you as your hand immediately finds his back, beginning your path, soothing circles into the firm muscle, the other carding through his wet and tangled hair. He pulls away for a second, eyes erratically scanning over you like they’re checking for wounds. And maybe they are, maybe he just needs to know that you are unharmed and in one piece, unlike whatever he had witnessed in his sleep.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You murmur when his heart rate has slowed down. His grip on you is still tight, clinging to you. If there was something wrong with Harry, Hermione or Ron or an attack on your tent he would’ve said already. You hadn’t completely forgiven Theo for that night but your heart still pangs with guilt for not being there for him when he tore himself from the nightmare, that while he was in pain, you were sitting here reading comfortably.

He shakes his head. Maybe not now, but tomorrow, when it’s not as fresh he’ll let you know what transpired in his terror, what shook him to his very core.

“It burns,” he says, pointing to his mark. You move your hands from their place on his back and trace the skin around the mark, providing relief that courses through his body.

For now though, on the comfortable sofa in the sitting room, he nestled closer to you, letting your hands soothe him back into a peaceful slumber.

For the first time in months, Theodore Nott had finally found comfort being back in your arms.

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The next day, Hermione and Ron had made milkshakes, chocolate and strawberry. They had also made a massive mess in the kitchen with their incessant arguments.

These were the only times you’d get to enjoy some times with your friends, you’d discover.

You sat on the kitchen counter next to Theo as he made burgers and fries for the two of you, the other three had left after finishing their milkshakes to talk to Mr. Lovegood.

“No add extra cheese on mine, it’ll taste good.” You added from your place up high, sipping the shake as Theo nods and says,

“Yes ma’am,”

Before walking over to the fridge to get extra cheese slices out to put in your burger.

“Do you think things would’ve been different if we hadn’t had this whole war?” You speak up, inturrepting the music in the background.

“In what sense?” Theo asks, plating the food.

“Like…do you think we would’ve still like…” you stall trying to find the polite words as Theo raises his eyebrows, looking confused.

“Hooked up, there I said it.” You say rolling your eyes at his laughter over your choice of words.

“Oh my gosh baby,” He says between laughs as you eventually join in, “Yes! Of course we would’ve. What, do you think it took a war for me to come back to you? I would’ve come anyway, there’s no way I’m letting you go like that. Wouldn’t have left anyways. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you but you’re it for me Y/n. You’re it.”

His watercolour eyes stare deeply into yours as he comes closer, the food and laughter long forgotten as you engulf him in a hug as he apologies again for leaving. His apologies are unending, as are your kisses on his neck in final acceptance.

After what feels like hours, you two finally break away from the hold as Theo brings the plates to the living room where you’ve already set up a movie and picked a place on the sofa.

You both lay next on opposite sides of the sofa, watching the movie as you eat, legs tangled together in comfort as you warm up your body with his.

“Can I have a taste of your burger?” You ask after a few minutes.

He nods and leans over and helps you take a bite of his food, he watches as your eyes light up and you smile at him sheepishly. He rolls his eyes with a grin before trading your plate with his.

“Thanks Teddy, yours tastes a million times better!” You give him a kiss on the cheek as he trades the plates and return to your movie, completely missing the adoration in Theo’s eyes at the nickname.

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It’s a few hours after and you are now comfortably napping in Theo’s arms as the movie plays in the background.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had returned ages ago but thought it’d be best to give you two some time alone.

As always, your comfort is cut short when you hear Hermione’s shrill scream, awaking you with a jolt, doing the same to Theo as he instinctively tightens his grip around you.

“What’s going on?” He asks as Ron runs in, the two of you quickly standing and grabbing your wands, “They’re back. The Snatchers are back, run!” Ron shouts as the three of you run out to help Hermione.

But she’s long gone. As is Harry.

“Ron! Theo!” You shout in panic, turning to your left to find Ron gone as well, only deepening your fear.

You shoot spells at the Snatchers until you hear, “Crucio!” from your right.

Everything’s moving too quickly and you barley have any time to react before something, or rather someone pushes you to the ground.

As you get up off the autumn leaves, wand ready to shoot at anyone in sight you see all the Snatchers disapparating. You shift your eyes down to the ground to see who had saved you from the unforgivable curse.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you quickly stumble to his place on the grounds, shaking and thrashing around in pain, trying to console it best he could as he claws his mark in agony and soft, painful whimpers escape his pink lips.

“No no no no no, Theo what have you done?” You whisper, straddling him and holding his face in your hands to try lessen the pain as tears escape your eyes.

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay Theo, they’re gone now, you’ll be fine.” You try comfort him, bringing his head into your chest, remembering that providing comfort is the only way to ease the cruciatus curse.

His breathing calms down after a while as you try and shield him from the cold air fluttering around you as you both cry into each others arms. Theo pulls away, staring into your eyes with his ever-captivating ones and says determinedly, “I’m not losing you. Not like this, not now, not ever. Never again, you hear me? I’ve already lost you once and I’ll be damned if I ever let you get hurt or lose you again. God baby, I just got you back I can’t let go of you now.”

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part ten done! lmk what you think and maybe repost if you want to it really helps🤡🫶🏽🫶🏽

taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere @ama1a2 @kezibear @randomgurl2326

[rierice8]

Hey bestieee

So I think you should write Soukoku just for me bc u love me sm!!! I’ll leave all the details up to u but it must be SMUTTY AF foreplay to the max, and the rest can be whatever your pretty little heart desires

Merci ❤️anon

(Ps did I mention to make it extra smutty)

I THINK I DID YOU DIRTY BESTIE- I PUT A LOOOOT OF PLOT 😭😭

I’m not that good at writing smutty smut and I don’t wanna let down my bestie 😔

But I DO think I did you dirty…

I started writing this on the plane back home…in late August…SO IT'S BEEN A WHILE

Sorry if it feels a little plot heavy or rushed around the end, I…was not very inspired at all…usually an x reader blog but I made an exception for YOU 🫵 anyways let's say this is in celebration that skk isn’t soukover and they’re still alive!

What did you say?

Dom chuuya x sub dazai

Word count: 1876

Warnings: PLOT (scary scary oh no), drinking, drunk sex, name calling (good boy, slut, etc), size kink

Ever since the port mafia and the detective agency called a temporary truce to fight against Fyodor, to Chuuyas misfortune, Dazai has been showing up more and more often. To the point where sometimes Chuuyas afraid to open his room door in the morning since Dazai could easily be standing right there. Dazai has been purposefully trying to provoke Chuuya as much as possible, simply for the sake of being annoying. Leading us up to this evening, where Chuuya gets a knock on his door at a ridiculously late hour.

“What the fuck…who is it?!” Chuuya yelled from the living room as he stood slowly to go answer the door. The person on the other side just kept knocking too, not even stopping after Chuuya had got up to go to the door.

“Ok! Jesus fucking christ, I’m coming!” Chuuya said clearly annoyed as he groggily walked to the door and unlocked it. He didn’t even have to open the door by a centimetre before the door was flung open by who ither than Dazai.

“Chuuuuuya~ I brought wineee!!” Dazai giggled as he closed Chuuya’s door with his foot. Chuuya gave his unexpected visitor a look of sheer disgust.

“And who the fuck said you could come in?? Who invited you? Its fucking 2 in the morning?!” Chuuya yelled, but not loud enough to go through the walls, as he still had respect for his neighbours. Dazai sighed and placed his free hand on his forehead in a theatrically overdramatic way.

“But Chuuuuuyaaaaa!! I went out to buy the most expensive wine I could get just so we could get wasted together and now you're shunning me?!?! I’m going to throw myself off the roof!” Dazai cried. Chuuya all of a sudden was rather interested. Wine?

“Ooh…what kind did you get? Let me see the bottle.” Chuuya snatched the bottle from Dazai’s hand and grimaced.

“Expensive wine my ass, this might as well be from the fucking dollar store. Did you thrift this wine? Cuz I swear this shit is the cheapest thing on the shelf, fucker.” Chuuya put the bottle down on the kitched counter and got two glasses, and his own bottle of wine. Meanwhile Dazai walked to Chuuya’s living room and saw the tv was paused on a cheesy romance movie.

“Chuuya, what kinda garbage do you watch? I know I spent dirt on that wine but your brain must be dirt to think a movie like this is worth watching,” Dazai teased as he turned the tv off and waited for Chuuya to bring the wine and glasses. As Chuuya walked to the living room he scoffed.

“What do you know about romance, dipshit?” Chuuya said as he opened the bottle and poured the glasses. Dazai laughed.

“Surely I know more about romance than you do. At least I’ve had relationships before,” Chuuya scoffed and rolled his eyes at Dazai.

“Oh yeah, “relationships”. All of your relationships lasted a week or less and were toxic as fuck since I bet you’re not even interested in women,” Chuuya smirked as he took a sip of his wine. Dazai reached to grab his glass too, taking a sip and sighing.

“Aw drat! Caught me red handed again Chuuyaaa,” Dazai said sarcastically as he threw his head back dramatically.

“I guess all I’ve ever wanted was some short ginger man to fuck me dumb~” Dazai teased. Chuuya only sighed in response.

“Yeah? Just say that again when I’m a little more drunk and see where it gets you, whore.” Chuuya took another sip of his wine, while watching Dazais face turn from coy to flustered in seconds.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, now drink up you fucker. By the way this is my own wine, not the dog shit you bought, so every drop you drink is coming out of your pocket,” Chuuya said as he refilled his own glass and went to sit down next to Dazai on the couch. Chuuya grabbed the tv remote and stuck on the movie he was watching before. Dazai laughed and immediately started mocking it

“Oh~~ Alejandro!! Mi amour!! You cannot leave me, wah~~ for look, my legs…they opened automatically!!!” Dazai laughed hysterically as he danced around the room. Chuuya held back a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Bro just watch the movie. The wine is clearly already fucking with you, whatever happened to “I have a high alcohol tolareance” Dazai?” Chuuya laughed. Dazai looked almost offended as he sat down again and watched the movie.

Both of them were slowly sipping their wine glasses, unknowingly going through at least three each. Dazai lets his head slip onto Chuuyas shoulder…Chuuya runs his hand up Dazais thigh…Dazai whispers filth into Chuuya’s drunken ears...Chuuya lifts Dazai’s face by the chin and stares at him, eyes half lidded.

“What was that you said about wanting to get fucked dumb by me again?”

Dazai’s eyes shot wide open before he settled into a smug look.

“I don’t know~ did I ever even say anything?”

Chuuya scoffed as he lent in so closely to Dazai that they were basically kissing.

“Oh…well thats sad,”

Chuuya smirked as he completely pulled away, leaving Dazai sitting there stupidly with his eyes closed, as if he was waiting for Chuuya to kiss him. His eyes snapped open as Chuuya moved away completely

“Woah woah woah wait!! I was just jokinggg, I said something earlier, what, did you want me to repeat myself? I gladly will!!” Dazai chirped, basically begging.

Chuuya just nodded, waiting to see if Dazai really meant it or if he was just joking.

Dazai then lent in close to Chuuya’s ear, pressing himself against chuuya in the process and he whispered.

“I want you to to fuck me, Chuuya.”

Maybe it was pent up desire, or maybe it was just the wine, or whe way Dazai seemingly begged but either way their lips were pressed together. Dazai parting his lips slightly to leave passage for Chuuyas tongue, yet without breaking the kiss, he also stated moving to straddle Chuuya. Once Dazai found his place on Chuuya’s lap he only took a second long breather before going back to kiss the ginger. Bandaged hands running up under Chuuya’s shirt, almost achning to get the thing off. Slowly breaking the heated kiss, Chuuya moved to gently kissing along Dazais jaw before pulling away fully to look at him. Dazai’s eyes were halflidded and clouded with lust…or maybe just alcohol. Dazai steadied himself with a hand against Chuuya’s chest as Chuuya slowly unbuttoned Dazai’s shirt.

“For fucks sake just take it off already!” Dazai sighed, while Chuuya just smirked.

“You we’re the one begging for me to do with you as I want, now you’re gonna be a good boy and be patient, ok?” Dazai just gulped and nodded. Finally Dazai’s shirt was fully unbuttoned and thrown to the floor, where Chuuya then hurriedly takes his own shirt off. He peppered kisses down Dazai’s chest and started gently biting and sucking on the milky skin. Dazai’s already gasping, and tangling his hands in chuuyas hair.

“Shit...Chuuya” Dazai said as he let his head tip back. Chuuya smiled against his skin as he left little hickeys behind, all the way up to his neck, making sure they can’t be covered. He trailed his hands down Dazais chest before reaching the hem of his pants. Dazai’s breath hitched.

“You good?” Chuuya asked, making sure before moving any further. Dazai just nodded.

Bliss. That's what Dazai could describe it as, maybe if he could think. Chuuyas digits roughly fucking in and out of his ass, his head thrown back in pleasure as Chuuya kept leaving little marks all over his neck, pulling his bandages loose so that he has more access. As Chuuya fingered Dazai loose, he started playing with Dazai’s tip too, who only let out pornographic moans in response.

“Shit Chuuya- Ngh!”

Chuuya kissed him, swallowing all his moans in the heated moment.

“You’re such a slut. Letting me use you like this. You even asked for it, and now you're whining and doing absolutely nothing…what if I put you to work,” Chuuya whispered to Dazai as he stopped all his actions. Dazai whined in response

“N-no why, what? Don’t stop, come onn,”

He grumbled, Chuuya just took off his boxers and beckoned Dazai

“Ride me. Bitch.”

And without hesitation, Dazai climbed on top of Chuuya and lined up his hole with Chuuyas cock, slowly sinking down on it with an ecstatic expression, moans spilling out of the both of them.

“Shit…so deep…”

Dazai said breathlessly as he finally sat down fully. Within seconds Dazai started moving, up and down rhythmically. A small bump forming on his stomach. Chuuya just watches as it gets smaller and bigger again, moving his hand to push down on it before leaning in to Dazai’s neck, leaving kisses trailing up to his ear

“You feel that? Thats how fucking deep my cock is in you.”

Dazai moaned at Chuuya’s words. After bouncing for a while though he started slowing down, whining at the loss of sensation

“Chuuya, I can't…I’m tired…please..”

Chuuya thrust his hips up into Dazai, gipping into his hair and pulling on it.

“Please? Please what? What do you want, slut?”

“Fuck- shit Chuuya! Ngh- I just want you to fuck me already! Please-”

Chuuya then flipped Dazai over on the couch, so he was positioned on top. He then started pounding into Dazai, no remorse. As if it had been his one and only desire for years.

“Ngh- shit! Fuck I’m-”

Dazai was trying to grip the couch fabric as he failed to speak from all the sudden pleasure.

“Shit I’m gonna fucking fill you up,”

Chuuya panted out, slamming in and out of Dazai as he just writhes and moans. Dazai’s hands going to lift his legs up so Chuuya could hit deeper.

“Please do, oh fuck- Shit I’m gonna cum- mnfg!”

Chuuya bit his lip as Dazai clenched around his dick.

“Shit, me too…”

Chuuya moved so he was more so laying flush against Dazai, wanting to feel their skin touching as he uses it as leverage to also thrust harder into Dazai. Chuuya reaches down to stroke Dazai’s dick as he keeps pounding him at the same time.

“Ngh shit!! Fuck fuck I���m, Ah! I’m gonna- Mngh!”

Chuuya bit into Dazai’s collar as he only stroked him faster.

“That’s it, cum for me, good boy.”

And like on cue Dazai came just seconds later, clenching down tight around Chuuya, which only made him get closer to that edge. After a couple of thrusts Chuuya came inside Dazai. Basically collapsing on top of him moments after. Both panting and tired.

“I…never thought you were gonna take my joke seriously…very happy you did though,”

Dazai laughed breathily, Chuuya only laughing a bit in return.

“Any day…any time…I’d be more than willing to take your jokes seriously,”

Dazai’s eyes widened a bit

“Did you know I loved you, Chuuya?”

He said. Chuuya smiled and kissed him sweetly.

“Of course I did, dipshit. I’ve loved you for seven years now. That's seven years too many.”

Chuuya said with a smile, Dazai nodded.

“Yeah…seven years too many indeed…”

[mystical-flute]

Checkered: Chapter 9

Also on AO3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi

"Miss Mutou sure left in a hurry, Master Noah. Did she say what the emergency was?"

Noah turned away from the window, the gates closing after Reika's car was down the long stretch of road that led to the manor, and sighed. "Her grandfather was suddenly rushed to the hospital. She didn't have more information than that."

"That's awful news, sir. I'll inform the Big Five of this right away."

He shook his head and reached for his suit coat. "No, don't. I'll inform them. They were still at KaibaCorp, right?"

"Yes Master Noah, they are still in a meeting if I remember correctly. Allow me to drive you there myself."

Noah nodded. "Thank you Kemo."

It wasn't a long drive to KaibaCorp, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut with every passing second. Something was wrong - the Big Five tended to work late, he knew that, but all of them together? Holding a meeting? That was unusual.

No, he couldn't let himself be nervous. He couldn't show weakness, and he wouldn't.

Walking into KaibaCorp after dark was a strange sensation. Unlike his brother, Noah did not like to keep odd hours, instead preferring to leave with the rest of the nine-to-five employees. It felt like a liminal space - everything was where it should be, but there were no people, and the building itself was on power-conservation mode, and it made everything feel off.

Still, Noah's spine was straight as he entered the elevator (mercifully, the elevator felt correct), and ascended to the meeting rooms, taking the familiar path to the largest one, the Big Five's personal favorite, due to its privacy.

The door was closed, which was both not surprising and surprising at once. It was so late - no one else was in the building. Why did they need the door shut?

Steadying his oddly-shaking hand, Noah moved to knock on the door, only to pause when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He ducked out of the way of Kemo's hands, twisting and falling on his ass, causing Kemo to crash through the door.

"Kemo! What the hell are you doing?!"

"My goodness, Noah, are you alright?"

His blood ran cold at the voice.

Pegasus.

No. They weren't, were they? Not after everything…

Noah jumped to his feet and bolted in the direction of the elevator, hand fumbling in his pocket for his phone to call and warn Mokuba. Fuck - fuck! How could he have been so foolish to believe the Big Five wouldn't try something while Seto was gone?

He was too slow - there was a reason Kemo had been hired, for his speed and his strength in the event that something go horribly wrong, but never did Noah think that it would be him trying to outwit him. Noah tried to scratch and kick at the solidly-built man, but his attacks were doing nothing, and Kemo dragged him back to the meeting room, and he met the cold, calculating eyes of the Big Five, and Pegasus lording over all of them from the screen.

"Hello Noah. I must say I wasn't expecting you to be here today. I thought we had more time. But alas, here we are," Pegasus sighed.

"Time for what?"

"Time to plan a new era, of course, since Kaiba-boy is indisposed now."

Noah snarled and tugged against Kemo's grip, earning a foot to the back of the knee and hitting the carpeted floor with a pained groan. "I won't let you take KaibaCorp after everything we've done to bring it into the future!"

Pegasus simply laughed. "And you have done a marvelous job! Truly stunning work considering where your father had the company prior to his untimely demise. Unfortunately for you, the Big Five just don't believe you and Seto are capable at running the company, and have come to me for help. You and Seto are no longer in charge of KaibaCorp. It will be made public after my tournament." Something flashed beneath the curtain of silver hair Pegasus had, and Noah felt a wave of nausea hit him.

"There are seven of them. The Bracelet, the Puzzle, the Rod, the Scales, the Necklace, the Key, and the Eye," Reika had told him years ago.

Noah peered at the book on the table. "You and Yugi have the Bracelet and Puzzle… what about the others? Who owns them?"

She shrugged. "No one knows, but they're all dangerous. Anyone could have their untold dark magic in their possession."

"You did it! You put Solomon in the hospital, didn't you?! What did you do to him you son of a - "

Noah never finished his sentence as a golden light filled the room, and then everything went black.

-----

It was exhausting, having to participate in this charade. They all knew who Pegasus was gunning for. They knew that there was nothing any of them could do to stop him. What they didn't know was if the room was bugged and Pegasus was listening in. Not that it would matter - he could read four of their minds anyway.

It was a nauseating situation, and none of them had wanted to eat much as they sat in their little private viewing area to watch the duels. None of them wanted Noah to come through with a tray of food. Pegasus had been good about not using Noah for their larger meals, but they really didn't want to see him with snacks.

That hadn't stopped Pegasus from sending them in (mercifully not with Noah) though.

"Is anyone else feeling eerily like the Big Five right now?" Hideo asked. "Look at us, huddled around a screen with expensive snacks and drinks. Watching the ants on the island squirm."

Reika groaned and stared up at the ceiling. "Don't call them ants, Hideo, you sound like Crump."

He rubbed his head and took a seat on one of the couches. "Sorry. I think that old man has done more damage to my psyche than I thought. How are the duels going again? I can't even remember what day it is."

"Yugi's got three, but we haven't been able to catch any of his duels today." She had an awful, sinking feeling that Pegasus was keeping the duels from them on purpose, for some twisted reason.

"Mai Valentine seems to be doing good though. No surprise, since she's big in dueling circuits all around the world," Katsuo said. "She puts on a hell of a show too."

"She should have been on Seto's radar. I don't know why he never set up a duel with her before," Mei said.

Sora sighed and sipped at her water. "Hopefully one day he'll be able to."

That one day couldn't come soon enough.

A knock at the door startled them into silence as Croquet poked his head into the room. "Pardon the interruption, but Master Pegasus would like to see you all in the dining room."

They followed, of course, and found Pegasus looking smug at the head of the table.

"I have something grand to show you all," he said, voice taking on an annoying, sing-song tone as he pressed a button on his remote.

On the screen was Kemo holding Mokuba Kaiba in a choke hold off the ground.

"Pegasus… what did you do?" she asked, horror in her voice.

"I told you, a new era is beginning. That means ensuring that all members of the Kaiba family either submit to me or get out of the way. It's really quite simple, Miss Mutou," Pegasus shrugged. "It's just business, after all."

"Mokuba is a child. He shouldn't be involved in this."

"Mokuba, much like Noah, was too nosy for his own good. He's also too smart for his own good seeing as he managed to get out of the room he was staying in."

Anger radiated off of Hideo, though this time he didn't leap from his chair. "How long has he been here? How did we never see him?!"

Pegasus smiled and sipped at his wine. "He got here the night before you did."

When they would have been too busy preparing for the tournament to realize something had gone horribly wrong. Damn it all. Reika thought they knew how to play the game, but it appeared that they were the ones who were ants scurrying around and in way over their heads.

The camera panned, showing a duel arena, with Yugi (no, the Other Yugi, she realized) on one side and Seto on the other.

"Seto?!"

"Oh, no, I can understand why you would make that mistake, but Seto Kaiba is dead. That is his anger and frustration. What Yugi-boy expelled from him after their duel."

Horror filled the room once again, but it was Katsuo who spoke. "What do you mean he's dead?!"

Pegasus shrugged. "It would be a miracle to survive throwing yourself out of a cliff side window, wouldn't it? Though I suppose if anyone would, it would be Seto Kaiba…"

Reika closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No. There was no way Seto would throw himself out a window. He would never mimic Gozaburo, in anything. He had to be okay. He just had to be.

Seto had gone to the countryside. There was a chance he could outwit Pegasus, if his mind had finally gotten itself back together. Between Seto and Yugi, maybe all hope was not lost. Seto could get KaibaCorp back from The Big Five, and Yugi could defeat Pegasus and restore grandpa's soul. Maybe Noah's too, if he was willing.

That was a silly thought. It was Yugi, of course he would get every soul back to its body.

She just had to believe in them, and everything would work out. This… creature was not Seto Kaiba - she knew it. Seto was a man scorned, he would try to get his glory back, and his company. A little thing like a duel loss would never have driven him to the edge of that.

Loath as she was to admit it, the fact that the Seto-creature was able to command the cards as well as he was was rather impressive. The fact that he was able to summon the Blue-Eyes, of all cards, was a feat in itself.

Still, the fact that Pegasus had given an order to murder Seto instead of kidnapping him was alarming. Did that mean he would kill them instead of using his Eye? She thought soul sucking, but at least that could be revered, at the very least.

"Hm? What the - the Blue-Eyes hologram…"

Reika forced herself to open her eyes and look back at the screen, where the Blue-Eyes was indeed fading in and out from view. Strange… they had never encountered that glitch before in the systems.

Or… was it a glitch at all?

Reika sat up a little straighter as the Duel continued, and the Blue-Eyes melted away into nothingness. Pegasus' face began to twist in annoyance, which had to be a good thing.

"Well," Pegasus scoffed as the Blue-Eyes melted away. "It appears Kaiba-boy is more crafty than I gave him credit for. But I can't have him interfere with a sanctioned duel."

"It's a goon using illegally obtained cards and there is a child hostage. Surely that isn't what you wanted from the game!" Sora protested. "Mister Pegasus, please let Mokuba go!"

"I simply cannot do that, Miss Tanaka."

He could, easily. They all knew it. This was his damn show after all. But no, instead, he was enjoying watching them squirm, and enjoying tormenting a child.

"Yugi beat this deck once. He can do it again."

And he did.

Reika let out a heavy breath when the clown Yugi was dueling was finally vanquished, blasted back into the shadows.

Pegasus' wine glass shattered as the Other Yugi's voice filled the room, promising him a defeat, and Reika forced herself not to smile at the confidence coming from the screen as it faded to black. Maybe that wasn't actually Yugi speaking, but she hoped Yugi himself was picking up on some of the confidence the Other Yugi was giving.

"Croquet…" Pegasus said slowly. "Please escort our guests back to their rooms. We will be providing them with room service."

The infliction in his voice was clear: Pegasus was done trying to pretend that they were really honored guests.

"Please Pegasus, do the right thing," Sora implored again as the Young Five rose from their seats and began heading toward the door. "Let all of us go."

"Your pleas will fall on deaf ears, Miss Tanaka."

Croquet paused at the end of the hall, and the five went back into their rooms. Reika kicked off her heels and sighed, trying to loosen the tension in her shoulders. It seemed to be working, until she heard a very distinctive click from the door.

They were prisoners, just like the Kaiba brothers.

The next day was quiet, and she spent most of it confined to the room and worried about what she was missing by not having access to the duels. Pegasus' men were woefully unhelpful when she asked, and Kemo only gave her a toothy, malicious grin.

It wasn't until afternoon when they were summoned to their viewing room.

"What, no Pegasus today?" Hideo asked, eyes narrowing at Kemo. "What gives, Kemo?"

"Mister Pegasus is busy getting ready for the finals," Kemo said with a shrug. "There's one more big duel that he wants you all to see. It's important, for the good of the company, you know. So much so, that the Big Five will be viewing it as well. Their camera is set up right there."

That couldn't have been good at all, and Reika's stomach rolled as she spotted the camera in the corner. It hadn't been there all weekend, which she was hoping meant they hadn't paid any attention to the tournament until now.

The screen blinked on, showing the castle exterior. On the one side, she saw Yugi and his friends (strange, when had Bakura showed up?), and on the other -

"Yes, the real Seto Kaiba showed up last night, believe it or not, but you know the rules - you need ten star chips to gain access to the castle."

"So he's dueling Yugi because Joey isn't at his level."

Joey had ten star chips as well, at least from what she could see, but as Yugi had been the one to beat Seto last time…

No matter who won, she was going to lose.

Her jaw tightened, and she sagged back against the couch, wondering what sort of deity she'd pissed off in a past life to deserve to have to go through this hell. Her grandfather comatose, the company she'd been a part of her whole life having been co-opted by another, and the man she'd looked to for guidance when she wanted to keep things from her parents was a monster who went along with all of it.

Seto looked exhausted, and his pupils were tiny little dots in his eyes indicating his fury. This was going to be so, so bad.

"Kaiba, please, we don't have to do this. There has to be another way!" Yugi was saying.

"You know the rules of Duelist Kingdom, Yugi. You need ten Star Chips. I have five, you have five, and I'm taking them so I can end this ridiculous charade of Pegasus'!"

"We both have someone we're fighting for! Let's just figure out a way to work together!"

"I can't. I won't! This is something I have to do on my own. Not after the betrayals I've already faced."

The Young Five flinched. Surely Seto didn't actually think they were part of this, right?

"How can The Big Five expect us to be okay with this?" Hideo muttered. "Planning a hostile takeover is one thing, but all of these steps and the ancient magic, and forcing us to watch all of this… it's all too extreme."

"They sold their souls, so they expect the same of us," Katsuo replied. "They don't understand that we aren't them."

Sora sighed and ran a hand along her face. "They don't understand that their era is over."

"Or they do understand and they just don't care," Mei added. "My uncle said he would rather die than give up control of the law department completely."

Reika glanced up at the camera in the room. It didn't appear to have any sort of microphone on it, which was good - the last thing she wanted was for them to overhear the Young Five.

"They don't care about anything but themselves," Reika finally said, glancing at the others. "We're pawns. We always have been. We were just there to try and make KaibaCorp look good… and I think we did too good of a job."

The group fell quiet for a moment, and back and forth the duel went, until Hideo spoke again.

"They never really cared about us, did they? What were they even planning for us before Gozaburo died?"

A chill settled over the room. They had been puppets for so many years, it was hard to imagine having to continue to be one had Gozaburo still been alive. But on the other hand, how many more innocent people would have been swept up in Gozaburo's twisted game? How many people would have died or gone missing because of Gozaburo's power and influence?

Reika stared at the screen, watching carefully. The Other Yugi was in control of Yugi's body, she could tell. He seemed reasonably calm, all things considered, but as each turn went on… Seto seemed to be slipping - not in terms of the duel, he kept making excellent plays but emotionally. Reika seriously questioned how much sleep he'd been getting lately.

"I'm not going to let you win, Yugi!" Seto was snarling. "I will crush anyone who gets in my way!"

And she understood that. She really, really did, because Pegasus needed to free Noah and Mokuba, and give KaibaCorp back to its rightful owner but… Seto had to know her grandfather's life was on the line too. To hear him be so callous about that… it hurt.

"It's like Pegasus is doing everything he can to turn Seto into Gozaburo," Hideo said with a frown. "I would be impressed if I wasn't nauseous."

"No kidding."

"Guys, why is Seto backing up?"

Seto was, indeed backing up, until he stood on the ledge of the tower.

The air in the viewing room seemed to go still.

"Yugi, if you attack me now, the ensuing shock wave might make me lose my balance, and I'll fall to my death."

"Don't tempt me!"

Reika winced, heart in her throat. The Other Yugi was different from the cousin she'd grown up with, and she understood that, but to hear those words coming out of Yugi's mouth was difficult.

"It's over," she muttered. "There's no way Yugi's going to - "

"Celtic Guardian! Attack!"

"What? Yugi!" Katsuo barked. "What the hell is wrong with him?!"

"He's possessed," Reika whispered in horror. "It's not him, he would never - "

"Yugi! This isn't like you! Stop the attack!"

She had never been so relieved to hear Anzu's voice, and she could barely summon the courage to keep her eyes open as Yugi seemed to hesitate, but then finally did call the Celtic Guardian back, ending the duel, and Reika let out a shaking, mirthless laugh as she tried to breathe through her urge to scream or vomit, or both while the screen went to black.

She put her head in her hands and took slow, even breaths. A breakdown right now wouldn't be becoming of a Young Five member, no matter how much she desperately wanted to.

It was hard to tell how much time passed before they were called again, this time to sit in the dueling arena's VIP balcony. On the other side of the room, she saw Bandit Keith Howard, Mai Valentine, and Yugi and his friends (where Yugi had managed to find five other star chips she didn't know, nor care).

They were to watch another duel - one that would settle the matter of KaibaCorp once and for all.

Reika knew, as the Young Five took their seats in the VIP balcony, how this duel was going to end. She didn't flinch as Seto entered the arena and glared up at them. None of them had the energy to try and fight back with their eyes - Reika just hoped that Seto would understand the defeated looks they were giving him were looks from people who didn't want the situation they were in, but were powerless to stop it.

She exchanged a glance with Yugi, who looked as tired as she felt. Clearly, this hadn't been an easy weekend for him either.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the creator of Duel Monsters, Mister Maximilian Pegasus!" Croquet said, his gravely voice echoing through the room.

Pegasus entered with a flourish, beaming at those gathered, while Seto continued to bristle.

"Kaiba-boy! I'm so excited to finally be able to duel you. After so many years, and so many tournaments watching you climb your way to the top," Pegasus said. "This duel will be one for the ages!"

"You're going to be sorry for what you did to my brothers and my company! When I win, I'm cleaning house!"

Visible discomfort rippled through the Young Five.

"You're certainly welcome to try, Kaiba-boy. Let's duel."

Seto didn’t stand a chance, and KaibaCorp's last hope fell in a look of fury and a blinding light.

[wireheadbird]

Missing You [3]

previous chapter

(Al-Rawabi) female reader

Note : Hi, damn its been about a month since I posted. This is the most i could write tbh i literally squeezed my brain for this chapter to be written and its short i know BUT its different than the ones before. Warnings : slight mentions of grief, S.A, slut shaming, mentions of a gun, threatening, blood, swearing, slight angst. Summary : Hiba and reader get somewhat closer all because of an incident in their neighborhood.

639

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I walked through the always empty streets admiring how the leaves danced with the afternoon wind. I had woken up on my bed a few hours back which led me to think all the events that had happened the day before were just a bad dream. But the stinging pain and scabbing over red lines under my bangs said otherwise. Judging from the sound of the radio playing old music and no sounds coming from the television I could tell right away it was only my mother and I at home. She had suggested I take advantage of my weekend and go get some fresh air and socialize, and said something about how we’ll talk about what happened later. Which brings me here.

Looking up at the sky I realized the sun was about to set which was my sign to go back home. I was just a few blocks away when I recognized someone crossing the not so busy streets, she had headphones on with her hair fluffed up and a pair of ripped jeans with a brown shirt.

I quickly averted my gaze when I realized it was Hiba, hoping she wouldn't notice me. But in doing so I accidentally made eye contact with a group of teenage boys who were for some strange reason already looking at me. 

I swore under my breath keeping my gaze on the floor and rushed past the boys, which resulted in me bumping straight into someone’s back. “Watch where yo-” the voice paused, “oh, it’s you” Hiba snorted mockingly, turning to me. Her smirk was quickly wiped off of her face when she saw the scared expression on my face, before she could say anything a whistle sounded from behind me.

We both turned to look at where the sound was coming from, and spot the four creepy looking boys approaching us. I instinctively grabbed her hand in fear, which she squeezed in return but not taking her glaring eyes from their smirking faces. “Hey there you two, need a good fuck?” the one in a hoodie, which seemed to be the ‘leader’, taunted “We could share you know”. This caused the others to burst into laughter. A rotten smell coming from them. 

Weed

“Lets just go, please” I pull her back whispering into her ear. She turns deeming the boys not worth it and I followed along not looking back but letting go of her hand. “Oh come on,” one of the other boys whined while reaching out to grab me “It’s very obvious you don’t have an issue slutting around” I feel his disgusting eyes lingering on my neck.

A click is heard from behind me and I freeze, I could see a glint of fear flashing on their face. I looked at her and instantly recognized the small yet vital weapon she held in her hands. The same weapon that killed her. “Aw think we’ll be scared of your toy gun?” another round of laughter rings through the empty streets. 

She points her gun upwards and pulls the trigger making me almost jump out of my skin. Hiba gives me a look of…concern, but doesn’t hesitate to point it back towards the boys who make a cowardly run for it. I watch them carefully from a distance until I feel a hand turn my face to the side from my chin, a pair of worried eyes made contact with mine. Her hands tug mine down away from my ears and wipes my tears. “Let’s get you home, hm?”. 

I glance at her pocket where the, now obvious, pistol pokes out. She notices me looking and I guess she felt my fear. “It’s a toy” she takes it out and shows that the bullets are red paint-balls. “Makes them cower like puppies” she grins then helps me up.

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None of this is real, all but a figment of my imagination put into words.

[ancientwastedlores]

I Can See You!

ASK: Hi can you do the I Can See You from SNTV? The scenario would be like Loki and the reader being in the same mission and secretly liking each other but they can't. THANK U IN ADVANCE🫶

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A/N: It's been a while since FREED BY FATE, which I am thrilled to say did much better than I was expecting. Thank you for continuing to read my stuff, guys :') And thank you for more asks! I hope you enjoy <3

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I Can See You

Under the cloak of the New Moon, the Avengers compound hummed with an eerie energy. Asgardian Spirits danced around Loki, whispering ancient secrets as he channeled his rituals. These ceremonies blessed the compound with a magical shield, an ethereal protection against outside threats.

Yet, this shield bore a vulnerability. Each New Moon, Loki needed an hour to rejuvenate its power, leaving the compound momentarily exposed. The Avengers, ever vigilant, braced themselves during this time, knowing all too well it was when enemies might seize their chance.

You were stationed at the front door, the only entry point your enemies would never think to use. Steve, Sam, and Tony got the more complex entry points AND all the fun.

As you stood there, Chitauri weapons and your own version of the Iron Glove in hand, you paced back and forth, itching for some excitement.

From within the building, Loki's voice surged like a divine chant, causing the very foundations of the compound to quiver. A sense of awe enveloped you, his smooth baritone intoning in a language unknown to you. It swelled, filling the air, drowning out all else, until his voice was the very pulse of your existence. It felt sacred, all-consuming. You yearned to immerse yourself in this overwhelming force, to be one with its profound mysticism.

THWACK!

Snapping out of the religious experience, you turned your head to the right. What the hell was that?

Alarms blared inside the building, but Loki's voice remained strong. You got the excitement you were hoping for, after all!

You rushed inside to where Loki was, hoping nobody had the chance to reach him yet. The voice got louder as you got closer, and the sheer energy surrounding him and the spirits visiting him stopped you dead in your tracks. This is about as far as you could go - which means it's about as far as any enemy can go.

You took a position right outside this forcefield... and waited. Shouts, alarms, and sounds of guns and clanging armors indicated there were at least 50 men to contend with, but if Tony, Steve, and Sam were handling it, it meant the enemies were dropping like flies.

Suddenly, shadows flitted in the periphery. You squinted, spotting a group of infiltrators — mercenaries from the Ten Rings, wielding strange energy blades that pulsed with a sinister glow. Their aim was clear: to break Loki's concentration, shattering the protective shield.

As they advanced, you readied your Iron Glove, releasing a blinding burst of energy that knocked several of them off their feet. Above you, the sound of battle resonated through the hallways — Steve's shield clashing, Tony's repulsors firing, and Sam's wings echoing with swift movements.

In the midst of the chaos, you held your ground, determined to protect Loki. Every so often, you'd catch a glimpse of him through the chaos. Each time your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between you. He continued his incantation, the ethereal spirits swirling around him, a stark contrast to the violence outside their protective circle.

Suddenly, a massive force threw you off balance. One of the Ten Rings, stronger and more formidable than the others, had charged towards you. Just as he was about to strike, a protective green energy barrier emanated from Loki, throwing the assailant off course.

Loki's eyes locked onto yours, a mix of gratitude and something deeper, something neither of you had acknowledged before. The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the realization that you had just risked everything for him, made your heart race.

Not now... focus.

The energy barrier was enough to make the other thugs hesitate to approach you. The leader shouted at them to continue advancing, but some valued their lives more than their jobs and fled outside. Unknown to them, the Hulk was outside waiting for them, but that wasn't your problem.

The leader glared at you, his bloodied face and gleaming sword making you wonder, for a second, how hot Loki would look disheveled and dangerous.

You shook your head to get rid of those sinful thoughts. Focus.

The leader dropped his sword and reached into his pocket. The world around you stopped, and a breath hitched in your throat. He took out a small metallic object, a cube no bigger than the dice you played Monopoly with.

The cube shimmered under the dim light, emanating an aura so potent that even from a distance, its pull was undeniable. Etched runes, eerily reminiscent of the old Asgardian scripts, glowed on its sides. It was an artifact from the realm of Svartálfar, known for its potent disruptions to magic and spells.

The leader sneered, holding the cube high. "You think you're the only ones with ancient weapons?" he barked. With a swift movement, he crushed the cube in his palm, releasing a blinding pulse of energy.

The effect was immediate. Loki's chants faltered, his connection with the spirits weakened, and a violent tremor coursed through the compound. The quake threw many of the Ten Rings off balance, some being buried beneath the fallen debris. The protective barrier around Loki wavered, and he stumbled, the weight of the entire compound's shield on his shoulders proving too much to bear without his full concentration.

Loki's emerald eyes widened in panic as he saw the leader lunging at you. With a swift movement, he summoned his scepter and projected a beam of emerald energy, knocking the leader off his trajectory and away from you.

But the damage was done. The quake grew more violent, causing cracks to appear on the walls and floor of the compound. Alarms blared, warning of structural instability, and the compound risked collapsing on itself.

It was then that you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist. Without a word, Loki teleported both of you to a safer location, away from the chaos of the crumbling compound. You found yourselves on a hill overlooking the Avengers compound. Below, fires raged, and the earth trembled, but you were safe.

Tony and Sam flew above, and you could almost see the look of utter rage and confusion on Tony's face. You hoped the non-flying Avengers were safe, and almost as if she heard you, Wanda flew out, and Steve, Bucky, and Maria Hill floated out with her, enveloped in her red energy.

Loki and you panted heavily, leaning on each other for support. The magnitude of what had just transpired weighed heavily on both your minds. The cube, with its power to disrupt even the most potent of Asgardian spells, was a game-changer.

Loki looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. "That cube… it's an artifact of Svartálfar. I've only heard of its existence."

You nodded, catching your breath. "And now we know what it can do."

It took everything in Loki not to pull you into his arms, and thank Odin you were unharmed. The mystical energy around him lingered, making you feel faint. You could still feel the walls shake as his chants grew louder. But now, with no Loki and no spirits on the compound, the Avengers had never been more vulnerable.

"We need to go back," you said. "I do; you stay here." "That's not happening... Loki, take me back." "Y/N, you're not a god, and you have no powers." "I'm an Avenger!" "Y/N!" "LOKI!"

You glared at him defiantly. "I'll walk there if I have to." "Then I will tie you down here."

The comment made you take a step back - his low voice and intense eyes made that comment so sexually charged you needed a minute to stabilize yourself. As if he heard your thoughts, he blushed a bright red and looked away from you.

"Could you not be so stubborn?" he asked. "The compound is literally falling apart."

Loki, taking a deep breath, realized the futility of arguing. "Very well," he sighed, offering his hand, "Together, then."

----

In a blink, you found yourselves back at the compound. The fires raged more fiercely, and the remnants of the Ten Rings mercenary group had regrouped, exploiting the compound's vulnerabilities.

Tony was in the thick of it, his red and gold suit glowing brightly against the darkness, his repulsor beams shooting enemies down like flies. But it wasn't enough. Wanda, her hands glowing with red energy, was creating barriers and tossing the mercenaries around, but she, too, was outnumbered.

"I'll handle the men," you shouted, drawing two Chitauri weapons from your side. "You get the shield back up!"

Before Loki could object, you dashed into the fray. Tony zoomed by your side, firing blasts at any mercenary that got too close. "Nice of you to join the party," he quipped.

Wanda joined forces with you, her telekinetic abilities perfectly complementing your combat skills. Together, the three of you formed an unbreakable front, pushing the invaders back.

Loki, meanwhile, rushed to the ritual site, attempting to regain his connection with the Asgardian spirits. As he began chanting, another familiar voice joined him. Thor, having sensed the disturbance, had returned. The brothers, their powers combined, created a force to be reckoned with. The chants became louder, and more potent, and the ethereal spirits returned, swirling around them.

You, Tony, and Wanda worked in perfect harmony. Using her powers, Wanda lifted groups of mercenaries into the air while Tony and you, with precision targeting, fired at them, effectively incapacitating them. Once subdued, they were effortlessly thrown into the waiting arms of the Hulk, who gleefully swatted them away like bothersome flies.

As the last of the mercenaries were dealt with, Loki and Thor's combined energies surged, the shield's power restored. The compound's tremors ceased, and an eerie calm settled.

The shield was back, stronger than ever.

-----

"We really need to find another way to charge those magical shields," Tony said, taking a swig from his glass. "An hour under a New Moon? We're practically begging to be invaded."

The party was on in the in-house bar and lounge, but Loki was nowhere to be seen. Not seeing the point in staying too long, you finished the rest of your drink and got up.

"Leaving already?" Tony asked, "Come on, it's 1 in the morning." "Yeah, but emotionally I'm 80, so I would want to be in bed by 8. Sorry."

He laughed and bid you good night, as did the others.

You made your way back to your room when Loki crossed your path.

The dim lighting of the hallway cast dramatic shadows, and Loki's silhouette stood out, his posture both regal and, strangely, vulnerable. His green eyes bore into yours, the same intensity from earlier lingering.

"You're heading to your chambers?" he asked, the question seemingly simple but with layers of emotion underneath.

"I am," you replied, meeting his gaze. "But not before I thank you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Thank me?"

"For everything," you started. "You've been risking your life to shield this compound, putting yourself in the line of fire every New Moon."

He took a step closer, closing the gap between you two. "You risked just as much. Maybe even more," he said softly. "You could have stayed out of it. Yet, you chose to step into the fray, for me."

The air between you two was thick with unsaid words and emotions, neither of you breaking the gaze.

"I couldn't just stand by," you whispered. "Not when you were in danger."

A small smile tugged at Loki's lips. "And I couldn't imagine a world where you were harmed. Even the thought terrifies me."

Heart pounding, you took a bold step, bringing yourself right up to him. "Loki," you breathed, "I realized something tonight. With all the chaos and... watching those men trying to get to you. I-I can't ignore it anymore."

His voice was barely audible, filled with anticipation. "And what is it you can't ignore anymore?"

His maddening, magnetic energy made you feel weak, conveniently giving you an excuse to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him towards you. You ran your hands from the nape of his neck into his hair as you lifted yourself to tiptoes and kissed him deeply. As you tugged his hair gently, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him, nearly crushing you.

------

MASTERLIST

Open for new fic requests! Here are the request guidelines :)

[just-call-mefr1es]

WAITTT THIS IS INTERESTINGGG

so what im guessing by ‘zombie apocalypse starts’ its where you are, correct? You’re in these spaces when zombies start attacking So, from the choices, I personally think a cruise would be pretty terrible, or any tight space far from a safer place (planes, boats, trains and sorta buses) since there’s barely anywhere to go when the outbreak starts, but more on that later.

I feel like the people around you and the quality of your environment also play a big role in this. A hospital situation would be pretty fucking awful if the doctors ditched the patients (even if the action is somewhat justifiable at a time like this) but it could also be a little bit better if they tried to save as much patients as they could. A train situation (yes I just watched Train to Busan, and yes I am still crying about it) could be worse if the doors were unstable and weak, but it could also be much better if the doors were easy to close and durable.

Personally, I think a zombie apocalypse starting in a Denny’s parking lot would be a sort of hilarious, yet interesting concept. Like, imagine you’re just trying to get back to your car after a heated argument with your family while eating out at Denny’s, then you see Amanda getting eaten by a zombie two feet away from your car. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see. But, it’s not exactly the worst, since you still have a car, so you get in as soon as possible and drive the fuck out of there. (Where would you go if the apocalypse spread throughout? No clue man, but they said start, and you got over the starting, so away you go). It would definitely be worse if there were more people, but hey, you got your car, drive out.

Shopping centre is somewhat similar, except while you’re figuring out if you should buy one or two packs of potato chips for movie night later, the guy three aisles down is breathing his last breaths as a zombie feasts on his leg. You try to get out as soon as you can, but people are also rushing, so it’s definitely worse than Denny’s parking lot, but both of these rely on how much people there are. The more people=the more panic and more panic means pushing around and definitely more zombies. I can see a sort of ‘The Mist’ kind of scenario (that one scene where the weird ass pterodactyl things fly in and everyone’s screaming) where everyone is pushing each other around and using whatever they can get to use as a weapon.

I’m not in college, so I don’t know if I can think up a scenario for a college campus, but from what I know, colleges are huge, and have a bunch of places to run around and hide. Problem? There’s probably a shit ton of people, too. So yeah, you can hide, but there’d probably be a zombie for five in every corner. Best bet would be hide somewhere until it clears over a bit so you can get out, or just stay until the zombies leave or something (the outside world is probably just as bad, so not much places to hide). The dorm rooms could be utilized pretty well and hey, if you get the right people on your team you can create some pretty interesting traps, weapons etc. I feel like the library would be a pretty good place to hide, since there’s usually not too much people in there (unless it’s like, finals week, then do not go in there) and it’s a maze with the bookshelves. That could also be a disadvantage, though, so keep your eye out.

Airports are pretty much like the other previous places. (Usually) Crowded spaces filled with people who just want to get somewhere. Airports are also huge as hell, so a ton of places to hide and a ton of places where zombies could lurk. It’d probably feel even worse (especially during holiday season) because people are on edge. People are stressed. The flights are getting delayed and you’ve been waiting for hours then someone down the hall is tearing out the neck of the person closest to them? If the infection got around by more than one passenger on a plane, so a full plane of zombies attack, then you’re good as dead. The planes can’t take everyone to safety, and traffic’s a bitch in airports. You’re definitely fucked if you can’t find a place to hide, a plane to catch, or a taxi to drive away in. The more I think about it, this would be a phenomenal movie/show idea. If y’all know anything with this premise, hmu cause I never see anything with this idea.

Having it happen in YOUR OWN HOME would be more devastating emotionally than survival. You grew up in this place. Or maybe you didn’t, but you spent months and years adorning it to your own liking, free of judgement since it’s your place, your space, your home. You invite some friends over. A birthday or just for the fun of it. Then someone turns and suddenly the place where you found safety and comfort becomes into a battle zone full of fear and devastation. Honestly, it really depends on how big your house is, and if there’s anywhere good to hide. You could just book it for the door and drive off with everyone you can save, but maybe it’s more than one zombie. Maybe everyone but you is a zombie and you have to maneuver around to escape them. I feel like it’d be more stressful if your home is a grand mansion in the middle of nowhere, Saskatchewan, but it’d just be plain devastating if your home was a small little house in the middle of the street filled to the brim with love, but not many hiding places.

Wilderness… You’re on a camping trip with your girlfriend’s family because she insisted you come… you hear something in the forest as you try to sleep… Goddamn. This would be an awesome and terrifying idea. It’s terrifying at nighttime because you have to rely on the noises the zombies make because the light on your flashlight would attract them. It’s terrifying in the daytime because the only place you can really hide is behind tall trees, and you can see every move the zombie makes. Despite all this, if you know how to climb trees, you’re about somewhat safe, and you can stay there until they leave. But, if you’re unable to, then you better pick your feet up because now it’s a deadly game of hide and seek. You lose the game, you lose your life. Or you can go in swinging, but wouldn’t the noise attract other potential zombies lurking nearby?

Now, personally, I’ve teared down each option for this poll from zombie infected flesh and bone, but I’m going to come back to my main idea of the worse place to be in the zombie apocalypse: planes or cruises/boats. I’ve also mentioned trains (‘train to busan reference’ I scream as They ready up the guillotine), but I feel like trains are much safer than being trapped on a boat or in a plane.

Think about it: in Train to Busan (yes I’m mentioning it again, kill me if you dare) they had sliding doors and much room (okay, not that much, but it’s enough) to run to and hide in (the compartments and the bathrooms, even if they were cramped). Plus, they could technically stop at whatever time (even though it’s sorta dumb to, they still can) and get onto land if needed. They might (? I’m not sure, I’ve never been on an actual train before) have some form of snacks, like the planes do, so they could chomp on some of that. Plus, the overhead compartments with the luggages can be extremely useful for whatever reason they might need (wraps, extra protection etc). The overhead spaces could also be used for hiding (just like they did in TRAIN TO BU-) if they ever need too. Plus, they have the fire extinguishers and emergency supplies and stuff they could use.

Now, that’s why I think trains are safer than planes and boats. As we know, planes and trains are pretty similar themselves. They both have those overhead compartments, some of the emergency supplies and they have those compartments separating the seats and stuff, although trains are more sealed off with their doors whilst planes are just,, fabric. Planes are smaller than trains, which already make the whole situation worse (especially if you’re on a cramped plane) since, where are you gonna go when the old man five seats down from you starts to stir??? out the airlock??? So, yeah, that’s a start. I think the airplane scene in World War Z, shows how utterly helpless it would be to be stuck on a plane when there’s zombies around. There’s nowhere to go, the literal fabric separating you and the zombies in the other compartment is NAWT going to help you, and even if you do make a barrier out of suitcases (just like they did in World War Z), somethings bound to screw up (sigh, what also happened in WWZ) and boom now your cover’s blown and you’re all dead. And! If it couldn’t get any worse! What are the pilots supposed to do? I think that being the conductor/pilot/etc in these situations is terribly depressing because you’re trying so hard to save your passengers, but you can’t do anything and in the end, you know you’re doomed too (i love you, conductor from train to busan,, you’re alive in my heart). Going back to the plane, they either crash from everything going out of control, or they just. land somewhere if they really don’t know where to go. You’re dying either way.

Now boats since I didn’t get to talk about them!! I’m gonna go with a cruise for now, since that’s one of the options of the original poll and any boat smaller would definitely lead to everyone on board becoming a zombie, or probably drowning. On a cruise, it’s just like a plane and train situation, but people are typically much happier on cruises since it’s supposed to be a vacation spot, so everyone’s having a good time. Until the zombies break out. What a mood killer. There’s definitely a ton of families on cruises, which means there’s more stress and panic among the people trying to get their children to safety. The captain of the boat is relatively easy to find, so without much protection, that captain is gone and now the survivors are trapped. There’s place to run and hide in cruises, but again, not enough. If you’re being chased by zombies on the deck, you might as well jump off than risk your life going into a room that could very well have other zombies inside. But, with the right amount of skill, I can see people surviving. Not as much, but people nonetheless. They’d eat scraps from the dining room and they’d have all the other essentials. They’d sleep in the sleeping quarters and try to make it all seem better. (Also, you can quickly dispose of zombies by throwing them off the boat, but that may have its own consequences so maybe not the best choice(ZOMBIE MARINE ANIMALS YALL)). But they’re still lost at sea, so your brother picks up a manual and starts reading. He’s always been smart in school, and sometimes rubbed it in your face, but you admit, he is smart. He figures out the mechanics and parts of the ship and visits the control deck five times a day and you barely see him at all. But it doesn’t matter because every night before bed he tells you he’s getting closer to getting it right. To getting you all out of this floating coffin, and you believe his wide smiles and sparkling eyes. The day he reread the manual eight times and plenty of other books he got his hands on, it’s been too long. You’ve forgotten what your grandparents back home look like, and you forget your best friend’s voice, you’ve forgotten what home looks like. But he’s ready, so you, and the other survivors gather on the bridge behind him, watching as he tinkers with the controls and flickers the tiny levers. You have no idea what he’s doing but everyone’s so excited to get to land, they just want to get out of this dump. Then right when we’re about to sail off, he finds out there’s no more fuel. You’re stuck here, with the zombies clawing at the red stained steel right outside the control decl and the unbothered waves hitting the boat. The world keeps spinning while yours just ended.

tl;dr planes are terrifying, don’t go on one if there’s zombies on the news.

yeah, so im super okay slay about zombies anygays nigty night (its 1 am)

[bygiornogiovanna]

Hello, how have you been? I humbly invade your ask yet again for a yandere Giorno request because we crave your content like fuel.We stan your works in here religiously😤 But no rush obviously, and of course only if u wish to do so

Can we have a darling who is in awe with Gold Experience? Not only is darling fond of him but wants to physically show affection like holding hands and hugging? How would Giorno react?

Yandere! Giorno x GN! Reader who likes G.E.R

A/N: Hands down my most loved request I got since I started. It's the second time I write this since tumblr trolled me and didn't save my progress. Anyways I'm extremely tired (only exaggerating, I'm just normally tired) so I hope I can still meet your expectations (this is kinda really crack so enjoy xd) :D

You've been in this mansion for a few months, in which you had multiple (failed) escaping attempts. You honestly didn't hate this place as much as you should, and neither hated its owner.

Your...boyfriend, also known as Giorno Giovanna, you two had a more 'special' relationship. More like he was your kidnapper and you had to deal with him daily because no way in hell he was going to let you go.

Moving on, as a stand user, you tried to attack him once or twice so you could escape, but to no avail. He was stronger than you and had more fighting experience, resulting in Gold Experience Requiem defeating you both times.

To be honest, you were absolutely flabbergasted when you found out he had a stand too. And you were even more shocked when you realized you grew fond of GER. It was something about that stand that attracted you, and not in a love-like way. You just wanted to hug that stand and spend time with him, even if that meant spending time with Giorno.

Actually, you didn't have something against the blonde, he was always nice to you and never hurt you (except when you tried to hurt him or escape), so you couldn't say you hated him. You could say you considered him rather attractive than not. But what you like the most about him was his stand.

"Giornooo, can I see GER again?" you said, clinging onto his arm. "Y/N, amore, you saw my stand two hours ago, why is it necessary to see it so often?" Giorno said, caressing your hair. He honestly didn't know how to feel about this. The man liked that you offered him this much attention and he surely loved that you liked his stand, which was basically him.

But, it really felt weird to watch you want to give physical affection to his stand. "I don't know, I just feel connected to your stand. Can't tell you why exactly, but I want to see him againnn." you shrugged and whined, making Giorno roll his eyes.

"Fine. But you do know that liking my stand means liking me too, don't you?" he raised an eyebrow while revealing his stand and you giggled, taking GER's hand in yours. "It's not the case, I think. I'm not sure if I like you." You joked, making him take a deep breath.

"It doesn't make sense. You can't like the manifestation of my soul but not like me. Doesn't work like that, darling" he stated, making you roll your eyes. You chose to ignore him and play with his stand's hand, making him scrunch his nose in annoyance.

"Can you stop ignoring me and play with my stand like I'm not here? I feel everything you do!" Giorno said angrily and retracted his stand. Was he really jealous of his stand? "Noo, bring him back!" you whined and he nodded his head negatively.

"No, you're not seeing GER until you learn to give me attention too!..." he started rambling and, after a two seconds long pause, "Am I jealous of my own stand? Yes. Is it stupid? Also yes. Do I care? Absolutely not."

Seeing him get so worked up over nothing made you start laughing uncontrollably. "Nah, no way you are jealous of your stand." you say after two minutes of laughing, making him sigh. "Leave me alone, you are the one obsessed with me."

"You are the one that kidnapped me." you replied and he rolled his eyes. "Irrelevant."

"Come here little baby." you rolled your eyes back at him and hugged him.

[wackapedia]

Bella | Bob Floyd x Reader

In which you assumed wrong :p Word count: 400ish Warnings: None, just fluff and kittens :)

  "Hey Bob!" You spoke up rather too loud, grabbing not only the attention of the WSO, but also the rest of the mess hall. He stops in his tracks to look back at you, looking startled at your attention. "Hmm?" He moves closer to your table. "Are you coming with us tonight? You can ride with me since Hangman's so prissy about not overloading his car." You say, side-eying Jake who was already giving you a look. "Hey, we're talking about a vintage Cadillac here, overloading will drag the car down and there will be skid marks on the bumper!" Jake drops his fork to demonstrate with his hands whatever he was trying to prove. Arguing with him would be pointless so you grab Bob's arm to move away from Jake who was still talking about the car. "There's enough space in my car..." You continue to offer. He's looking hesitant. You continue to pile your offer. "and- and Phoenix is coming with!" Bob scratches the back of his head, contemplating your offer. He'd hate to upset you by refusing. "I can catch up with you guys in like two hours? You see, Bella's waiting for me at home..."

Ah. Ow. "Hey, its not a big deal!" Your voice cracks. "uh, sure u go get home to your... Uh... " You couldn't bring yourself to say it. "You go don't have to come i mean what's to see, right?" You're rambling now. "I mean, Hangman's gonna keep talking about his car, and- and Rooster's awful singing-" "I heard that!" Rooster calls out from the table. Bob laughs. He was in quite a hurry when you stopped him. "Thanks for the offer, though. See you tomorrow!" And just like that, Bob leaves you hanging. You rush to leave the mess hall, finding Phoenix attacking a soda machine. You were full on crying at this point. "Hey- Oh my god what's wrong?!" She panics, seeing you ugly-sobbing. "He has a girlfriend" You try to tell her, but your sobs make your language incomprehensible. "Who? Bob? No he doesn't?!" Phoenix steadies you by grabbing at your shoulders. You calm down a little, as the other pilot bends to pick up a cold soda can from the machine. "He said he needs to get home to some Bella" You pout, tears still staining your cheeks. "Bella's his cat." Phoenix says nonchalantly, taking a sip from the soda can. You were confused. "Wha- no?" "OH MY G- DID YOU THINK-" Natasha almost snorts out the soda from her nose. Its nice to think people find your ignorance funny. She pulls out your phone and after a couple taps, she passes it to you. "That, right there, is Miss Bella Floyd. Now quit moping because Bob is actually so in love with you that he panics when you're around."