#no beta we die like my will to write apparently

[neon-kazoo]

Boo!

The lights flickered, and Hero froze.

A subtle chill crept into the alley. A stray breeze…perhaps.

Perhaps not.

As subtly as they could, Hero shifted one foot behind the other, turning back in the direction from which they had come.

In October? No way they were sticking around when electricity starts going haywire and the hairs on the back of their neck stand up.

Before they could advance halfway down the backstreet, a ghastly moan sounded from what seemed like around the corner.

Hell no.

Hero fought villains, not the paranormal.

They took off on light feet, skittering to a stop only when they saw a shadow looming at the end of the alley.

That was no normal shadow. It was slowly growing larger.

Afraid of turning their back to the approaching…whatever was lurking there, Hero slowly shuffled backwards. They took one step, then another, their heart barely contained by the rib cage it was beating fiercely against.

On the third step, they backed right into a solid chest.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” Hero screamed. They fell backwards in their attempt to scramble away faster than they had ever moved before.

The figure they soon recognized as the villain simply peered down at them with a lazy and amused smile.

Upon realizing that the person in front of them was, in fact, not a soul-sucking specter, Hero scoffed in annoyance.

“You.”

Villain chucked, then asked innocently, “What’s wrong Hero? Scared of ghosts?”

The hero picked themselves up and brushed themselves off as casually as they could, which wasn’t very casual at all.

“Scared of the undead’s restless spirits with potentially vengeful intentions?” Hero questioned, tilting their head. “Why yes, yes I am.”

“Seems childish to me.” The villain crossed their arms, knowing eyes still managing to look down on the Hero that was now standing tall in front of them.

“The veil is thin, Villain. There is no harm in watching out,” They stated ominously.

The villain blinked, their smirk faltering for only a second before returning to its full force with their next comment.

“Nice scream, by the way.”

The pride was written clear enough on their face that the hero had no doubt they had indeed orchestrated this whole ordeal.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Hero warned confidently, producing a small smirk of their own.

It was ok to give the villain a warning, they’d still never see it coming.

“Good luck,” their nemesis taunted.

Villain must have unfortunately forgotten about a certain eight-legged phobia of theirs. Hero sure hadn’t, and they knew as certain as they believed they could sense otherworldly presences that the villain would be getting a visit real soon.

[kiaxet]

Sooooo y’all see the latest @somerandomdudelmao comic update? Because once again it is living in my head, which means once again my brain has generated fic. This one’s ~1200 words and slightly less tragic, depending on whether or not you take dramatic irony into account.

~~~~~~~

It starts fairly innocuously.

One of the surviving technicians monitors a computer as it finally, finally boots up successfully, whooping when the Genius Tech loading screen pops up. He grins and pats the power cable. "Thanks, Raph!"

It catches on.

A water purifier, disconnected to save a struggling power supply, gets plugged back in. It chugs back to life, and the kids responsible for its upkeep cheer and high five. One of them waves at the ceiling, where a power conduit runs overhead. "Thanks, Mister Raph!"

And it spreads like wildfire.

Every time something works the way it's supposed to - every time a much-needed device pops back to life, or the emergency doors close correctly, or a dying lightbulb flickers on one more time - they thank Raph. In gleeful shouts and careful whispers, they show gratitude for the person who gave up his life - and his second chance at life, at that - to keep them safe. It makes the emergency base, ramshackle and barely held together as it is, feel a little more like a home. A little more alive.

It doesn't take long for a few unspoken rules to develop.

They never say it in front of the metal shell. It's one thing to say it to the walls, the cables, the electricity; it's something else to say it to a figure with a face, seated against the wall like a sentinel that will awaken and protect them when danger arises.

(Nevermind that they've been in danger, constant and unending, for decades, and that this sentinel is already protecting them in smaller, everyday ways.)

They learn very quickly never to say it in front of Raph's surviving family, either. Master Leonardo gets angry when he hears it. It's an anger born of grief and loss, painful but not dangerous to allies, but given how terrifying Master Leonardo can be on the battlefield or a bad day, nobody really wants that anger directed at them. Master Michaelangelo just stops when he hears it, lips curling up in an expression too devoid of life to truly be called a smile. It's almost worse to witness than Master Leonardo's anger. No, they learn to watch themselves in front of the family, carefully taking their gratitude towards a dead man elsewhere.

Until the day someone forgets and says it in front of Casey Junior.

The kid looks up at Roger with wide, almost hopeful eyes. "Why did you- is he here? Can you feel him?"

Roger stares back at him with equally wide eyes. He'd just been grateful the computer had booted correctly for his monitor shift, and he hadn't been looking, and now he has to try to explain this to a kid who's never known a life outside the apocalypse. Oh boy. "No, uh- I mean- I don't have magic like your dads do, Casey, I couldn't-" He sighs. "It's just...a thing people do, when things work. Before the Krang, we had all sorts of machines that made life easier, and...we'd talk to 'em. Thank 'em when they worked, yell or beg when they didn't...I remember threatening a fax machine once, not that that made any difference. I think that just...kinda carried over here." Wait. "Not that your uncle was a machine or anything-"

"His body was a machine," Casey says simply, with a pragmatism that Roger hadn't been expecting. Apocalypse-raised kid. Right. "That wasn't what made him Uncle Raph. He was- it's-" Casey falters, expression starting to crumble. Pragmatism be damned, the kid is still grieving-

Rem, just coming off her shift, steps in smoothly. It's not the first time she's saved Roger's ass, both on and off the battlefield, and it won't be the last. "We know," she says gently, putting an arm around Casey's shoulders. "What Roger means is that we're grateful he's keeping us going, and that people like to bond with machines even when they're too simple to bond back. We all used to name our cars - can you believe it?"

"I named mine Red Rider," Roger says wistfully. He still misses that car.

"And I used to sneak out of the Hidden City with my cloaking brooch and go joyriding outside of human cities," Rem says, a grin splitting her feline muzzle. "I named every car I stole Phantom, like I thought I was cool."

Casey smiles - small and watery, but there nonetheless - and Roger breathes a sigh of relief. "What else did you name?"

"I mean, it was mostly cars, but some people named their computers."

"I had a friend who named her phone and just kept adding numbers when she had to replace it. It was Duchess O'Brien the eighth last I'd heard."

"I know some Yokai named their weapons, but I never really kept track of those. It was more of a Battle Nexus fandom thing."

Another Yokai leans in - a four eyed lizard whose name Roger could never remember no matter how hard he tried - and Roger shuts up. She's in charge of security now, and honestly she intimidates him. She looks around - at him, at Rem, at Casey - and then intones seriously, "I once named a kitchen appliance Toasty McToastFace."

There's a beat of silence. Casey has a lopsided grin growing on his face, like he doesn't get the joke but he knows it is one, and that's enough to lift his mood.

And then Rem doubles over, cracking up, and Bob smiles carefully. "Really loved that toaster, huh?"

"It was my closest friend," the lizard Yokai replies, deadpan as hell, before leaving the conversation.

Casey turns that confused grin on Roger. "Was she serious?"

"Kid, I have no idea. Some people are just really into this kinda thing."

Rem finally straightens up, wiping a tear from her eye with a paw. "Ohhhh boy. Oh, I needed that." She turns her smile back on Casey. "Point being, naming something makes it a little more real, and makes you a little more likely to take care of it. The system here...already has a name. We're just saying thank you, you know?"

The grin on Casey's face settles down into consideration. "Yeah, I think I do. I- Thanks. I'm gonna-" He waves at the door to finish his sentence.

"Go for it, kid." Roger waves him off as he departs, then sighs once he's gone. "God, that kid is just hemmhorraging family, isn't he."

"We all are, Roger, it's the fucking apocalypse." Rem flicks an ear.

"Yeah, but still. It's rough." There's a second or two of silence. "Also, if he says it in front of Master Leonardo, I'm denying all knowledge of this conversation."

"Spirits, same."

Roger learns a few days later - from Rem, of course - that Casey has named his chainsaw hockey stick Killer, because it's what his mom used to call him. Well damn, if kids like him are gonna be the future, then maybe they have some hope after all. He raps on a wall lightly, just below where the power conduit is mounted. "I know you didn't have a lot of time with the kid, but you did a good job." He can't help but smile. "Thanks, Raph."

[salliesimpkins]

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: The Marks You Saw

Pairing: Joel x f!reader (formerly Tommy x f!reader). Word Count: 2.1k+ Warning: Alcohol mention. Drugs mention. Emotional word vomit. Author's Note: And you can tell a friend to tell a friend...she's baaaaack. Not really but I have been dealing with some heavy stressors at work and in my personal life that has stunted my writing so it felt good to get something out that I'm actually proud of. I think? Anyway... no beta, we die like men.

“Do you ever see me?”

Leaning back, you assess the man across from you—the scar that’s nicked into his eyebrow, the freckles that are scattered like spray paint across his nose.

The deep brown, almost black, of his eyes that match his brother’s.

Your daughter’s.

“I'm looking at you right now,” you say and it’s immediately apparent that’s not what he meant.

But you knew that.

“No, sweetheart—“

“I asked you not to call me that,” you remind him. “That's not who we are to one another anymore, Tommy.”

A terse nod.

“And no, I do not see you when I’m with him.”

“Did you ever?”

Did you ever?

Did you?

It’s been so long.

Pushing out a breath, you suggest that maybe you did in the beginning. “I was devastated, Tommy,” you say. “I was imagining the worst things possible, I was having waking nightmares which”—you laugh—“says a lot given the state of our world today. Especially in the Zone.”

His eyes take on that glassy look, the one he gets when he thinks too hard or sits for too long. The same way his brother’s do.

Something you hope your daughter will never mirror.

“But never me? Never now?”

He’s so still, you wish he would move or stand—breathe. It’s still so weird to see him breathing, to see him talking. Instead he just sits there on the other side of the small living room where the only thing that seems to rise and fall is his gaze on every part of you not covered by the threadbare fabric of twenty year old clothes.

“Tommy, I saw you dead and then I saw white, hot blinding rage. But I didn’t go to your brother as a replacement for you, I went because you told me to. If you’re still holding a grudge, I suggest you find whatever’s left of a mirror and confront yourself about it because I didn’t do anything wrong and neither did he.”

“But—“

“Tommy,” you cut him off, “I will always love you but I will never again love you like I did.”

Another nod and he finally does move, readjusting himself slightly in the chair as if he’s uncomfortable. But this discomfort is his own fault. You tell him so as soon as he even dares to say it.

“At some point, Tommy, you have to find closure because we cannot keep having these conversations—“

“Because it’ll hurt my brother’s feelings?”

“Because it’s hurting you, it’s hurting me to hurt you like this over and over again. And, yes, it hurts Joel. If I had ran into your arms when you showed up out of nowhere, he would have stepped to the side and remained quiet and let you back into my life. He still would. He is still afraid that I will decide he is too far gone and too fucked up and he will wake up to an empty bed and an empty crib because I went back to you.”

“Because I’m so easy?” He asks. And, somehow, it’s the first time you smell the whiskey stuck so heavily to him.

At no point during the day have you seen him drinking. Not out in the gardens or the community center. He didn’t even smell like this when he showed up here and you didn’t think his presence was due to anything other than not wanting to be alone.

But that’s as far as memory can serve. Because your attention and all your senses have been occupied by other activities.

Like the smell of the stables when Miri wanted to see the horses.

Or the smell in the crook of her neck, the smell that lingers in her hair.

Pulling her sleeping form tight to your chest, you inhale it again—the soft baby smell that’s going away.

“You are far from easy, Thomas Miller,” you say. “An easy man wouldn’t torture himself like this. But that’s what you’ve always wanted, Tommy. You want to be some complicated soul who saves the day. You already did. Me, Joel, Miri… we’re all here.”

Tommy inhales, deep, and stands to his full height. “I should leave you,” he says, before laughing and pushing both hands through his hair. “I guess I already did that though, huh?”

“Tommy…”

Stopping at the door, he takes another deep breath, his broad back expanding and deflating just as fast as he says, “more and more, I see my brother wearing the same marks you used to give me but it’s different.” A hiccup escapes its way from deep within his chest and he turns until his back is to the door. “He is covered in you in every way I always thought I was.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

His head shakes. “No, I-I think I’m trying to apologize to you.”

Looking down again into Miriam’s fragile, sleeping face, you see all the parts of her father truly starting to take shape across her features. Golden skin with a smattering of freckles; a strong nose set against soft cheeks—perfect, gentle little girl who looks like such an imperfect but gentle man.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you say but when you look back for Tommy, he’s already slipped through the door to make the short walk back across the street to his own home.

Purple blooms beneath the golden skin just below his ear, in that spot that smells most like him. By now, it’s about as permanent as any tattoo ever was because you spend your days and nights putting it there.

But not just there.

He has marks along his collarbone, marks bitten into his chest and shoulders and the side of his hand.

Some happened as a byproduct of stifling your pleasure against his skin. Others because you didn’t catch the moans in time so he had to do it for you. But, if you’re being honest, all of them are a subtle way of saying back off.

Not just to the curious eyes of the horny, lonelier women in the compound but to the world, too.

After all, all these bruises sucked into his flesh are the same purple-red of the knotted scars that have risen like unwelcome mountains across his body.

Your way of saying lust-filled eyes can’t have him and neither can the earth.

Your way of saying mine.

He came home far too late with eyes way too tired. He showered, rubbed mint soap across his body and tried so hard to be quiet on his big, heavy feet. But you were already up, eyes open to stare at the wall while you waited for him to come to bed and the only thing that kept running through your mind is Tommy’s question.

“He asked me if I still saw him,” you whisper across the short distance between where you lay.

“You see him all the time,” Joel says lazily, one arm draped across your body. “Hell, you could go see him right now. Just open the window and throw a rock at his.”

“Joel, you know what he meant,” you say.

“I do,” he affirms. “And I think about the possibility enough already so I don’t need to commiserate it with the target of all my greatest fears.”

A beat passes and his breathing begins to even out and, when you ask him if Tommy is really his biggest fear, you hope he’s already asleep so he doesn’t have to answer it.

So you don’t have to hear it.

Instead, Joel pushes up onto his elbow, body coming to hover over yours as he flips you back into the mattress and says, “he is now.”

“Why?” You ask, circling the edge of one of those darker patches etched into his skin. “Why would Tommy be your biggest fear when you know what’s out there?”

He shrugs and the movement of his body slips your touch further down, over the ridge of the scar to shatter the illusion that it could’ve been just another one of yours. They all look the same in the dark.

In the dark, he was never hurt.

“My brother is always going to love you and he’s always going to think our daughter should be his,” he says. “He's always going to be the first one of us that you loved.”

“That Tommy is gone,” you say. You don’t know how many times you have to say it.

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“It should be the way I look at you that matters,” you tell him. “It should always only ever be the way that I look at you.”

Joel smiles, that lone dimple pocketing his left cheek, as he drops himself down across you and all of his weight from all of this world comes down with him as your arms wrap around his neck with fingers tangled into wild, unkempt curls that have gone so gray.

That’s when his breathing does even out, soft snores overtaking him as you keep lying there and looking at the ceiling.

In the dark, he was never hurt and it hits you then that the dark is the only place Tommy lets himself hurt.

Sunrises aren’t your thing but you’re already up and dressed by the time it comes around. Usually, by the time you wake, most of the compound is up and working—playing in the sun where you don’t like to be.

For so long, night hasn’t been safe. Not even back in Boston. But here? It’s safe for you. He was never hurt in the dark, your face was never gray and bloodshot in the dark. Miri never had to see her parents falling apart in the dark.

That’s where Tommy finds you. Sitting on the rickety old bench outside in his yard, watching your breath swirl through the air in the early morning light, your feet kicking like a little kid’s.

“You're up early,” he drawls. He sounds like shit.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say.

“You want coffee?” He asks.

“That depends,” you say, “you still slipping Seth’s rust bucket”—your nose scrunches—“whatever he has the audacity to call that in there?”

Tommy smiles for the first time in a while. “It's alcohol,” he says.

“It's piss,” you retort. “And no, I don’t want that or the coffee it goes in. I just need to say something to you.”

He moves to sit before you stop him, pulling back further into the old, worn wood as you push your hand out. If he’s hurt about that, he doesn’t let it show.

“I’m giving you until the end of the day to toss every drop of everything you’re hoarding,” you tell him. “The pills, the booze. I find it incredibly disconcerting that we’ve made it this far in a world without everything that you’ve been able to find it.”

“Swee—“

“No,” you cut him off. “I let you do a whole lot of speaking last night, Tommy, and I let you hurt me. I have continued to let you hurt me and hurt my husband and I will not let you do that any longer. I don’t care that you’re a grown man, I don’t care that you blame me for this broken heart of yours, but I do care about you. Because, yeah, I put myself all over him. I dig my nails and my teeth and the heels of my feet into him every chance I get. But I do it because of you.”

“To make me jealous?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

Laughing, your head shakes. “Because I lost you,” you tell him. “All I had was a note that said you wanted better for me and all I thought about was how it really meant you wanted better than me. You pushed yourself out into this world without so much as a goodbye and you had no parts of me stuck to you reminding you to come home. I don’t make that mistake with Joel.”

“He's the better for you.” It’s not a question. Tommy Miller may be a lot of things but he is not a dumb man.

“Yeah,” you affirm, pushing off the bench to stand, “and I need you to get your shit together so you can find the better than me.”

He doesn’t speak, there’s no response even as you step back towards your own house across the street but it doesn’t matter and you won’t hear it.

Quietly, you push the door closed, toeing off your shoes at the entrance and pulling each layer from your body before crawling back into the bed you left an hour ago.

And if Joel noticed, if he woke up, it didn’t keep him that way. He doesn’t stir when you force your cold body back beneath his either. It’s enough to bring a very silent prayer forward from your lips to the same ceiling you stared at for so long last night.

The Tommy that could’ve been died in your heart a long time ago and it’s about time the one who scares Joel does, too.

[theheartbreakprincesss]

red lips and rosy cheeks, a criminal minds imagine

pairings: fem!reader x bau!team (platonically of course) and fem!reader x spencer reid (if you squint a little)

word count: 800ish

warnings: none i think. no use of y/n because i don’t really vibe with that. no angst, a little fluff, maybe? it’s mostly just funny i think. also not beta-read, or like we say in ao3, no beta we die like men.

author’s note: i have been binge-watching criminal minds for a couple weeks now and of course i’m obsessed with it, and this visual of spencer becoming a little flustered over seeing his crush all dressed up popped into my mind. it’s my first time writing an imagine with the reader as the main piece in the story, so idk be gentle with me? i also never wrote for criminal minds and i’m only in season 4. i just wrote this instead of sleeping or actually writing my other fics. sorry if this is terrible anyway. i’m open to feedback! thanks for reading <3

Working for the FBI could be a handful, sometimes, but the job had its benefits. You could catch criminals and help people, make a difference, you know? But something you would never expect to count as a benefit was the possibility of being called in the middle of a date.

You didn’t even want to go on that date, but your long-time friend Emma had insisted she knew a guy that would be perfect for you. Emma knew you since you both were undergraduates working on their degrees, so you had figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a chance.

It wasn’t your best moment.

Not that the guy turned out to be a psychopath or something like that. But the ice of your drink had barely started to melt when it became clear that Sean wasn’t the guy for you, and by the end of your martini, you could see that Sean was too self-centered and trying too hard to be something he was not, with the fake watch and the well-pressed but clearly cheap suit and exaggerated tales of his life. An hour into the date and you were begging to the universe to offer you a way out of that bar.

Thankfully the universe seemed to listen to your plea, and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw Garcia’s name on the screen as the phone rang. Apparently, Hotch wanted everyone at the office right that moment.

That hurry was what prompted you to go into the BAU headquarters straight from your date, thinking that a stop by your apartment to change would take too much time and that you could take the clothes out of your go bag and change out of your outfit once you got there.

“Hey there.” you greeted as you walked into the bullpen. “Is everyone here yet?”

“Rossi and Prentiss are on their way.” Morgan said from his desk. “Wonder boy is getting coffee.”

“Oh, okay.” you mumbled, moving to take off your coat and wondering if you would have time to wipe off the red lipstick before the briefing.

“Damn, pretty girl.” you heard Morgan say, that suggestive tone in his voice that annoyed the life out of you. “Did we interrupt something?”

“Only the most boring date I have ever been on.” you scoffed, nervously fixing your dress. It wasn’t inappropriate or something, just very different from what you used to wear. It had been Emma’s idea, actually, to pair that black sleeveless dress with knee-high boots. “He spent the entire time talking about himself.” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, look at you!” Garcia exclaimed as she got into the bullpen. “You look like a million bucks, darling.”

“Thank you, Pen.” you said. “What’s the case about?”

“A woman went missing in Indiana this morning in the same way three more disappeared in the last month before they were found dead.” JJ told, walking out of her office. “Oh, hot date tonight?” she asked.

“Disappointing, actually.” you laughed. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind Penelope.

“About her date.” Garcia said. Spencer joined them as they all stood near your desk, two coffee mugs in his hands. His messy hair was the first thing you noticed, looking like he had been dragged out of his bed. He handed you the second coffee mug, the one with little cartoon kittens stamped on it, then his eyes really focused on you.

“Oh, thank you.” you mumbled, taking a sip of it.

“I– yeah, I…” he stammered, eyes moving up and down, up and down.

“Are you alright, Doc?” you asked, using the nickname you had given him a few weeks into working together.

“Ooh, I think you broke pretty boy.” Morgan laughed.

“It’s probably the red lipstick.” Garcia pointed out, joining Derek in his laughs. You waited for one of Spencer’s famous info-dumps, where he would talk about how red lipstick used to be made out of crushed beetles in Ancient Egypt or something, but he was still silent, lips parted like he meant to say something but couldn’t figure out what.

“Do you need me to reset you or something?” you were now having a bit of fun with it. It wasn’t like you were trying to be mean, but both of you had been dancing around unspoken feelings for a while now.

“I… you look pretty.” Spencer finally managed to say.

You put the mug to your lips, trying to hide the blood that was rushing to your cheeks as Morgan whistled.

“Go on, wonder boy.”

“Derek? Shut up.” then, you looked at Spencer again, who was timidly smiling at you.“Thanks.” you mumbled.

Spencer looked at the mug on your hands, focusing on the stain of your lipstick on the rim of the mug.

“Uh, did you know that the first known red lipsticks were created by crushing gemstones in Mesopotamia over 5.000 years ago?”

•

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 1: Lost Pet Meet-cute

Divider by:  @cafekitsune

Flufftober prompts are from the wonderful @flufftober page!

Title: Alpine’s Adventure

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Tags: Fluff, Bucky x reader, Meet-cute , Alpine goes exploring,  Alpine is the best wingwoman , cat dad! Bucky, gn!reader, Alpine P.O.V, no beta we die like men, flufftober

warnings: brief mention of a panic attack

Summary: Alpine escapes the apartment and decides to go on an adventure to find Bucky the perfect gift, eventually enlisting the help of a newfound friend to help her plan come to fruition.

Word Count: 3.3k (3365)

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive and I may have missed something (though I try not to) so please read at your own risk.

A/N: Well, hello. This is my first official post of my own on tumblr. I won’t blather too much because there’s a pinned post explaining that this is my first rodeo.

The inspiration for this particular prompt came from the opening scene of 101 Dalmations (clearly). This also inspired another prompt - and maybe even a part three. 👀 (can you tell I loved writing this one?)

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Next

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2

Alpine's day had been pretty exciting, all things considered.

Alpine loved her dad – no doubt between her furry little ears. However, when her dad left for work that morning, curiosity had finally gotten the better of her as she slinked by him and out the door. In his tired state he hadn't noticed her dash for freedom and she hadn’t expected to actually get outside.

But she had.

The street was loud, louder than it was in the apartment and people walked by so briskly they barely noticed her. Alpine dodged multiple shoes and weaved through legs hurriedly. Some humans scorned her but otherwise left her alone.

Alpine's soft paws tittered over the concrete as she took in her surroundings.

Everything smelled the same, just amplified.

She hadn’t been outdoors  - at least, not without her dad– since she was kitten. She couldn’t remember much about her life before she met her dad other than everything was big, it was cold and she had been scared. Bucky had brought a warmth she had only briefly experienced as a kitten. He had taken her in, fed her and comforted her. He had shown a kindness she was unfamiliar with but appreciated all the same. She had attempted to return the favour, on occasion, but apparently dead mice are not appropriate gifts for humans. However, Alpine had found she was better on the nights her dad couldn’t sleep or had a nightmare, sitting on top of his chest and purring gently to help him calm down.

Alpine slipped through an iron fence crunching leaves in her wake and emerged from under a green shrub onto another pathway. This one had strange wooden seats littered along the pathway, looking onto a lake and…

Birds.

There were plenty of shrubs and trees in this area and the humans around seemed to be feeding strange birds on the lake. Alpine hopped onto one of the strange seats and sat down, curling her white tail around her, studying the birds. Perhaps a bird would be a better gift than a mouse. Alpine’s ears flattened as she considered it but eventually decided that her dad would probably scold her and be ungrateful for her efforts as per usual.

Alpine’s tail flicked in annoyance. There had to be something she could gift her dad, without getting into trouble. She eyed the humans who were walking along the pathway with the utmost scrutiny.

Small humans got excited to see her and she had to swat one who was petting her a little too hard. He was tugged away by his mother pretty quickly after that.

Slowly, a pattern began to emerge. There were all sorts of humans, of all ages, but mainly in pairs.Old, young, mother and son, father and daughter, sisters, brothers… they were all coupled in some way. Alpine’s tail tip curled with excitement. She could find her dad a companion. Steve and Sam were okay but she couldn't imagine their hands intertwined with her dad's or doing that strange thing coupled humans were doing with their mouths.

No. Alpine needed to find a new human to be her father's companion. That would be the best gift she could get him.

Alpine leapt from her seat and began her search. The first human she walked by was pretty, but pulled a sour face when Alpine approached and was snapping at someone down the phone. They only stopped to shoo at Alpine.

Too rude.

Alpine huffed, tail flicking is distaste and moving down the path.

The next was a woman who, Alpine assumed, in her prime would have been beautiful. She has feeding some pigeons with a woollen blanket across her lap, large thick framed glasses almost covering her face entirely. Her wrinkled hands shook crumbs onto the floor for the birds, who barely batted an eye at Alpine’s approach.

“Well, now,” The lady cooed as Alpine sat before her. “Aren’t you just darling.”

She held out a knuckle to Alpine, who graciously butted it with her head and allowed herself to be petted ever so gently by the sweet old woman.

Too old. Unfortunately.

After five minutes of fussing, Alpine moved away giving the old woman a small trill of a goodbye.

Much of the next hour around the open area was the same. Some were too young, or too old, were not a good potential match,  didn’t like Alpine or were already coupled. Alpine growled in frustration. Maybe she would have to go elsewhere but for now she wanted to go home. Today’s mission was a failure.

There was a loud noise that tore through the park. It wasn’t human. It was angry, gravelly and approaching rapidly.

A dog.

Alpine’s eyes widened in fear as the dog made a run for her, teeth snapping ferociously. She scampered, clawing her way more than halfway up a tree, turning back to hiss viciously and scratch at the dog’s muzzle when it tried to jump for her. It’s human was taking an idle time in retrieving it.

However, Alpine didn’t have to wait very long when she heard a human yelling at the dog, and it’s human. Alpine’s blue eyes narrowed  as she spotted the human stomping their way over to the tree.

“Keep your damn dog on a leash!” The human yelled as the dog’s owner tugged the collar of his pet away. The dog’s eyes watched Alpine and continued to snarl.

“Christ, it’s a cat –“

“and you’re an irresponsible dickwad.” The human stood tall, hands on hips as they glowered at the owner. “Dogs at the park should always be on a leash, regardless of how well trained they are. There is a reason for that; protecting the dog and the other people. How inconsiderate do you have to be?”

The owner huffed and muttered under his breath, finally managing to get the dog away. After glowering at the owner until he was out of sight, their features softened and they dropped their hands loosely at their side, turning towards Alpine.

“Hey sweetheart,” they spoke gently, giving Alpine space to jump and vanish if she so wished. “it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

Alpine considered the human for a moment, detaching her claws from the bark and elegantly landing on the ground. She sniffed hesitantly. Alpine could smell so many different things from the human; cinnamon, coffee, another scent she couldn’t quite place and... her cat kibble. This human smelled similar to home. The human offered their knuckle and Alpine bumped her head against it with a happy trill, tail high in the air.

The human laughed and rubbed Alpine’s ears as she weaved around their legs. The human’s smile was warm and gentle; just like Alpine’s dad’s.

You are perfect.

Your day had been relatively mundane. Until you saw an asshole with his dog off leash chasing some poor cat up a tree.

Now you had said cat bundled into your hoodie purring happily whilst you rode the subway, the cat’s little white head sticking out the neck hole to hiss at anyone who came too close to you. Probably not the strangest thing New Yorkers had ever seen, but you couldn’t help but smile at the little furball.

The cat’s tag had noted its name as Alpine but no address, only a phone number. You had made a mental note to call later in the safety of your apartment, however, you had more  pressing issues at the forefront of your mind. For example, manoeuvring for your subway tickets whilst holding Alpine in your arms.

“Sweetie, I might have to put you in bath jail.” You tell Alpine, looking down at her tucked away in your hoodie. Alpine looks up at you, as if she’s listening intently to what you’re saying, big blue eyes staring back at you. You melt – she’s so beautiful. Her owner, whoever they may be, clearly adores Alpine; a cute collar and beautifully maintained soft, clean white fur.

“I don’t know if my kitty will like you.” You say apologetically, giving Alpine a small smile. You could’ve sworn she huffed as she looked away from you as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

Unlocking your door awkwardly, leaning back so Alpine doesn’t slip out from your hoodie, you enter your apartment. Once the door shuts into place, before you can even call out that you’re home, Alpine is wriggling from your grip and out of your arms.

“No no no,” you say hurriedly, dropping your keys as Alpine bounds away from you sniffing.

There's a scampering sound, then bolting into the living area, Apollo appears. His green eyes fix onto Alpine, his usually sleek fur prickling like he was charging static. Alpine’s tail fluffs up like a pom-pom and you watch on with baited breath as Alpine growls warningly at Apollo. The last thing you need right now is a literal cat fight.

Apollo’s ears twitch rapidly. Both cats are frozen in mid-step, staring at one another until Apollo chirps, his thin tail twitching as he bounds at Alpine. He bulldozes into her and she flops onto her side with a soft thud. It takes you a moment to realise that your young cat is playing and Alpine doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, shes tolerating it. You sigh with relief watching Alpine pin Apollo’s excitable self under her with ease. Apollo's legs stick comically out from underneath her, his tortoiseshell patterning making Alpine’s elegant self look like she’s wearing crocodile hot pants with white socks.

You chuckle and snap a quick picture before punching the number you’d copied from Alpine’s collar into your dial pad. You hold your phone to your ear, pacing to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. It rings seven times and you almost hang up before a male voice answers.

“Hello?” The voice is gruff and curt, and you're immediately feeling nervous, wondering if you’d typed in the wrong number accidentally. “Look, if you’re selling something I’m in the middle of-“

“I have your cat!” you blurt and at the risk of sounding like a catnapper, hurriedly add, “I found at her at a park near the Central Cafe.”

“Oh thank God,” the voice heaves, sounding a lot less tense now which helps to ease your own nerves. “I’ve been looking for her for the past two hours. I can call off the search party.”

You chuckle, glancing over at Alpine, whose now pinning Apollo by the head with a snowy paw. “She’s got one heck of a personality, I’ll give you that.”

“She sure does,” The voice chuckles. “Uh, when can I come to get her?”

“Oh – whenever. I can text you my address.” You open the fridge with your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, pulling out a soda.  

“Great. I can come now? If that’s not too short notice?” The person on the other end is clearly desperate to be reunited with Alpine and you don’t blame them one bit. The soda in your hand hisses as you pop open the tab.

“No it’s fine. You want your baby back, I get it.”  

“Thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You expect to hear the beep of the call disconnecting, but you’re surprised when the voice speaks again. “And thanks... for finding Alpine.”

You feel a little bashful. You hadn’t exactly found her. More like rescued her and then she’d clambered onto you. “It was nothing. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya.”

You find yourself smiling smugly as the call disconnects and you tap in your address to Alpine’s parents’ number.  When you look up from your phone, both Alpine and Apollo are looking at you.

“What?” You say, raising your arms half heartedly. Strangely, the cat’s are looking like they were plotting something  and you couldn’t put your finger on what. With one last curious glance at them, you shake your head and move to the couch; waiting for Alpine’s owner to arrive.

Bucky’s day had been awful.

He was still tired from his last mission when he got called in to work again. He couldn't wait to return home to Alpine. He imagined her waiting for him by the door as usual, waiting patiently for him to walk in from work and bombard him with pleas for attention and treats. He smiled to himself as he unlocked his door. Alpine was the best thing to have ever happened to him and he spoiled her rotten to prove it. He never thought he would be what Natasha had called a cat dad, but he was, and loved every moment he spent with his furry companion.

So when he entered his apartment, calling out for Alpine and having no response, his mind immediately frog-leaped to the worst conclusions. Bucky tore his apartment apart frantically, calling Alpine’s name. With each shout and each room and nook searched his voice became more desperate. Bucky checked all of the windows to make sure they were closed. He checked Alpine’s usual spots. The cupboards. The washing machine. Under the couch. He almost ripped up a floorboard before he realised he was hyperventilating and collapsed to the floor.

His breathing was laboured, vision blurring from both the lack of air in his lungs and the overwhelming feelings of fear and guilt thar plagued him. His head was in his hands staring at the floor wondering how and where Alpine had vanished to.

He'd almost missed your phone call because he was so upset.

Bucky stands outside your door awkwardly. He's buzzing with desperation to have Alpine back in his arms but doesn't quite know what to expect beyond the door. He raps the wood gently, hearing the butsle of you shift off your sofa with a muted "Coming!"

The first thing you do when you open the door to Bucky is smile. That catches him off guard. You step aside and welcome him in, apologising for a mess that doesn't exist and explaining that Alpine was playing with your cat somewhere in the apartment.

"What did you say his name was?" Bucky asks, eyeing an enormous cat tree you'd placed in a corner. He made a mental note to buy one for Alpine.

"Apollo." You reply. You frown and pace around your sofa, clearly looking for something. "Sorry I... they were right here a second ago."

"That's a nice name." Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets. You hum in response this time. This was painfully awkward.

A meow from one of your rooms echoes through the apartment. It sounds like Alpine. Bucky moves before you do, taking two large steps in the direction of the sound before a flash of fur attaches itself to Bucky’s leg. Bucky looks down excitedly expecting to see Alpine, but his face falls when he realises it's a cat he doesn't recognise. It's Apollo.

Apollo's claws poke through the blue fabric of Bucky's jeans and Bucky could have sworn the cat looked damn smug about it too.

“You little asshole,” You gasp, grabbing Apollo. His back half lifts easily but his claws remain latched in Bucky’s jeans. Even as Apollo is stretched further, his body limply following your hands, he doesn’t retract his claws. He mewls softly and looks back at his pet parent with wide green eyes, that were trying desperately to look as innocent and cute as he could muster.

“I am so sorry.” you grovel apologetically to Bucky, not meeting his gaze. Bucky huffs with a smile. Now he really doesn't know what to do. Your cheeks burn with embarassment as you give Apollo a gentle wiggle. “Let go.”

Apollo refuses and meows in defiance. As if on cue, Alpine trots out from your bedroom rounding on you and jumping onto your back. You yelp, startled by Alpine's sneak attack, and straighten your back to try to shake her off. Alpine perches on your shoulder, sinking her own claws into the thin fabric of your shirt. She definitely wouldn't be moving unless she decided it, and meows triumphantly.

"Alpine!" Bucky gasps, reaching for his own cat. She had never done this before with anyone. He flushes with embarassment as well now. He thought your cat was a smug ass and now his cat was misbehaving too. This day was getting worse and worse.

Alpine mewled in protest when Bucky attempted to tug her away from your shoulder.

"Ow, ow, ow," You mutter, half turning to offer more of your shoulder to Bucky.

"Sorry," Bucky mumbles trying to detach Alpine’s claws; but she'd lift a paw to re-attach it to you shoulder again. What had gotten into her?

With Alpine’s distraction, Apollo sinks his pin-needle teeth into Bucky's leg. Bucky curses and looks down, you fluster and are about to ask what happened when Alpine slinks lower and leaps from your chest; her back legs pushing off you hard enough to send your back into Bucky’s chest. You stumble slightly, and thanks to his training, Bucky catches your hips to steady you. He looks down at you with concern and your head tilts back to look up at him wide eyed and flustered.

The cats have disappeared from beside you both. It's just you and Bucky in the middle of your apartment. The silence is palpable but not uncomfortable. You both are taking in the other's features; truly looking at one another. It isn't until a loud meow snaps you both out of your thoughts.

Bucky releases your hips, blushing and mumbling an apology. You stand up straighter, blushing equally red, also mumbling an apology. Bucky's eyes drift to where the meow came from, only to see Alpine and Apollo sat side by side, watching their parents' interaction.

"I think we've been had," Bucky says, pointing at them. His lips twitch into a small smile and you follow his finger to the cats, whose tails are flicking impatiently.

You sigh, setting your hands on your hips. "I knew they were planning something."

Bucky chuckles. "She's never done that before."

"I wish I could say Apollo hasn't," You smile sheepishly over at Bucky and he can feel himself smiling back.

"He is a little bastard." Bucky glances down at his jeans that have a few small holes from Apollo's teeth and claws.

"But he's my little bastard," you chuckle jokingly and hold out a hand. "I'm Y/N."

Bucky pauses for a moment before shaking your hand delicately with his flesh hand, conscious of the serum and worried about accidentally crushing your hand. "Bucky."

There's another moment of silence as you shake hands, looking at eachother. Bucky watches you swallow thickly and he clears his throat, dropping his hand from yours.

"I don't think the cats want to leave just yet," Bucky says, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so.... bashful.

You glance at the cats, who look like they're trying very hard to be nonchalant.

"No, I don't think they want to leave their play date either." You comment, narrowing your eyes at Apollo before turning back to Bucky. "Would... you like to stay for a coffee?"

"Coffee sounds good, if you don't mind." Bucky smiles again and you smile back. Something inside of his chest twists, and heat creeps up his neck. He watches you move towards the kitchenette, your hand meeting with Alpine’s head as you pass by. Alpine’s eyes close as you scratch her head and she purrs loudly. Your saying something about sugar and milk and apologising for Apollo again but Bucky isn't listening.

There's something about the way Alpine is looking at him, the way her eyes blue blink slowly at him and look over to you, sitting proudly on the counter that reminds him of when she brings him mice. He shakes his head of the thought and rejoins the conversation with you.

Alpine and Apollo share a look; a look of smug triumph that's missed by their parents who are too busy chatting and standing close to on another. Apollo gives a short trill and nudges Alpine with his head. Alpine purrs gently in response. Their plan had succeeded.

You were most definitely better than a mouse.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

*gif is not mine

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win. 

Daryl was not so easily mollified. 

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye. 

You weren’t afraid of him. 

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark  was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you. 

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said. 

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger. 

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes. 

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about. 

Still, you stayed. 

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now. 

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced. 

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you. 

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?” 

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue. 

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot. 

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow. 

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his. 

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll. 

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family. 

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor. 

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety. 

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you. 

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile. 

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?” 

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned. 

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring. 

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse. 

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away. 

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose. 

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides. 

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance. 

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him. 

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you. 

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.” 

“Why the fuck do you even care?!” 

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing. 

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door. 

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you. 

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside. 

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded. 

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder. 

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle. 

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt. 

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you. 

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.” 

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair. 

“Ya do?” 

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment? 

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail. 

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile. 

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy. 

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door. 

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you. 

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder. 

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement. 

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot. 

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently. 

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper. 

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly. 

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back. 

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite. 

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter. 

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.” 

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front. 

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later. 

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat. 

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear. 

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands. 

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!” 

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat. 

“Shit!” 

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen. 

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. 

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark. 

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt. 

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder. 

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it. 

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion. 

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.” 

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone. 

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.” 

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!” 

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg? 

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up. 

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.” 

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again. 

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long.  Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep. 

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse. 

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave. 

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered. 

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?” 

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead. 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?” 

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.” 

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away. 

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him. 

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance. 

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was. 

A confession. 

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this. 

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap. 

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other. 

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you. 

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?” 

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.” 

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it. 

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already. 

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away. 

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair. 

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte @drewharrisonwriter

@missladym1981@amyispxnk@thespookywookies@stevie75@mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@daydream-believer19@survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @gobaaby-blog-blog

[ninnosaurus]

the new professor

i just- i saw @khayalli well dressed donnie drawing and i just wanted to word vomit something that came to mind. I also wanted to practice writing short drabbles.

no beta, no editing, we die like men in here. look out for uh- spelling?

A murmur was buzzing in the lecture hall as you entered. Eyes scanning the room for a free seat that wasn't smack dab in the middle, you were not in the mood for "excuse me"s and "sorry"s and "just coming through"s. Finally, you settled on a seat on the far end of the hall.

Everyone seemed to be vibrating for some... reason you weren't sure about. You'd seen these people before, you've taken the class lots of times. You looked around before resorting to lean over to your right.

"Hey, why... is everyone so worked up? Do we have a test?"

"Hm? Oh, no. You haven't heard?"

You looked at your classmate, head most likely transforming into a question mark right then and there. You shook your head. "No... Heard what?"

"We're getting a new professor, today. Mrs. Larsson passed away in a car accident over the break."

Your entire being deflated like a tire. You liked Mrs. Larsson, you guys always exchanging both recipes and gossip. You made a mental note of sending a card to her family later this week.

Minutes passed. You leaned your cheek on one hand as the other was busy doodling. What broke you out of your zone was how the hall had suddenly gotten quiet. You looked up and saw the door was starting to open. Voices talking in a hushed tone. A chuckle. "Mhm"s. "Yeah"s.

Then he walked in. The door closing with a sssh and hiss at the end. You'd heard about the mutants. Four of them, apparently. Brothers. This must be one of them. He was... Tall. Broad shoulders covered in a knitted, royal purple sweater. Sleeves rolled, ending around the middle of his arms. Arms covered in scars, pinkbrown scars a stark contrast to the green hue that covered him. You tilted your head as you observed him move. Fluent, like water he moved. Long legs carrying him with style and grace. Like he was a human, and not at all bothered by the way people were whispering about him. He stopped by the desk in the front of you all. Leaning against it. Left hand supporting his weight as he sipped out of his mug. A golden watch sliding slightly down his arm. Coffee, probably. He looks like a coffee drinker. You thought to yourself.

Putting the mug down on the desk, he cleared his throat.

He smiled, like he'd been here for years and already knew all of you. "Good morning, class."

His voice, not too dark. If red wine could talk, it would have his voice. You couldn't explain it even if you tried. It just- made sense for you.

"I'm sorry you all have to meet me due to such unfortunate circumstances. I've been called in to... I don't like to use the word "replace", because I'm sure no one can replace Mrs. Larsson. I'm simply here to take over what would have been lost."

He walked to the whiteboard and picked up a marker, that too purple in color. It squeaked in the silence as he wrote. Perfect letters, in a perfect line.

"My name is Donatello Hamato. I'm not personally... big on being called Mr. Hamato, Donatello works just fine."

[so-boredtoday]

Medical appointment

Trafalgar D. Law x fem!reader

Summary: After dealing with menstrual pain for the last few months, you decide to make an appointment with your captain for a check-up.

Word count: 4K almost 5k

Rated: M / NSFW

Tags/warnings: Medical Kink, Doctor/Patient, Dubious consent in the beginning, Sexual health, Fingering, over stimulation, slightly use of pet names, She/Her pronouns, No beta reader we die as cowards, this is not good don’t let the tags fool you.

Author notes: I was thinking about it since forever so here it is ✨ I changed the quotes to hyphens this time and I don't know if it's the best idea but I hope you can understand it. Let me know if it's horrible hahaha… And remember to go to the doctor for a check up at least once a year even if it is not as attractive as Law

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

You had been to the medical wing a couple of times, it had always been simple things like checking some minor battle wounds or for the annual exams, however this was your first time for consultation. Law was sitting at the desk with his white coat on, there were a couple of things that didn't belong to the medical wing: Some half-opened maps, a notepad and a den den mushi, he had brought all those things to keep up with his work while he waited for your arrival for the medical appointment.

– Hello Captain – You said smiling as you approached – I hope I won't take up too much of your time –

He looked at you while shaking his head – That's what I'm here for, I'm the ship's doctor, don't worry about that – His hand went across the desk to point to the chair – Come on, sit down – He continued – How can I help you – He said kindly but without changing his characteristic serious countenance

– I was talking to Ikkaku about my menstrual period... – It wasn't a topic that would embarrass you at all but it was a bit strange to talk about it with Law – I have pain every month and I thought it was something normal you know? But apparently it's not and I wanted to see if you can help me with that –

– You are right, it is not normal however I need more info to be able to determine the cause and give you a treatment – He said while taking notes without looking at you – Does it occur every day of the period? –

– Most of the time yes, however it is stronger on the second and third day – You answered.

– On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain? – He asked looking at you without taking his hand off the paper.

– On a good day... a 6 and on a bad one an 8 – I said grimacing – It's hard to stand up and I feel dizzy, I usually put on some heat and take an analgesic to continue with my tasks – You answered

– It's not very good to self-medicate... – He continued writing without looking at you – That's what I'm here for – He continued as he got up and walked towards the stretcher – Please lie down – You walked, got on the stretcher and looked up at the ceiling.

– I'm going to pull up your blouse to locate the pain zone, are you okay with that? – He said approaching the edge of the gurney.

– Sure – You said without taking your eyes off the ceiling.

– Do you have a regular cycle? – He said as he began to press on your lower stomach.

– Not really... I have spurts of months where it only varies for a couple of days and others where it skipped by almost a month – You answered while his fingers run across your lower belly it was a pleasant feeling – I'd say it's right there – his movements stopped.

– Okay... You can get up – He walked to the desk again – When do you think your period will start? – he asked

– I think in about a week if it's not delayed – you told him as you sat down on the stretcher.

– I need you to record some data for me: The start date, number of days, symptoms such as nausea, night sweats, fatigue but mostly pain and its intensity – He said while opening one of the side drawers to take some gloves – Active sex life?

You blushed a little – Not as active as I would like but yes – You replied automatically regretting your words right after you said them, he gave a small amused laugh in response.

– I'm going to do a little exploration – He said approaching, you looked at him a little alarmed – It may be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn't be too painful... There are gowns in the first drawer of the bureau. I'll prepare the stretcher you can change behind the screen – He pulled one of the stretcher’s levers as you walked to the bureau and took out the gown.

You started to take off your clothes unsure, this definitely had not been your best idea. It was necessary but you weren't ready for Law to check you. You took a breath as you pulled down your underwear and folded it along with your other clothes, put on the medical gown and walked out.

Law was finishing placing the equipment as you walked to the stretcher – You can go seat now, place your legs on the supports... – He said as he took the chair to sit right in front of the stretcher – This test is called cervical cytology – He said as he put on his gloves without looking at you.

Your legs were open in front of him, again you fixed your gaze to the ceiling without saying a word – For the moment it will only be manual since I don't have the necessary equipment but this way we can check things like the position of your uterus, sensitivity or pain... are you ready? – He ask

– Not really – You said, he didn't say anything but looked at you raising his eyebrows. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath - Okay... I'm ready -

The wheels of his chair rattled against the floor as he approached – I'm going to touch – He began to move his hands across your crotch – I'm going to examine the outside.... Normally this is not painful but please let me know if you have any discomfort – His hands ran over your labia majora slowly, after a few seconds he started to move to the minors, you were breathing slowly trying to imagine anything to distract you until his fingers touched your clit. You opened your eyes and moved backwards with the help of your arms making his hand move away from you - Pain? - He said in a totally professional neutral tone.

– No... it's not painful…it was just a reflex... sorry – You said embarrassed.

– No problem, try to relax and we will finish faster – He said kindly, you went back to take the initial position while breathing – I'm going to touch again. Try not to move – His fingers went back to your clit. He ran it in up and down movements and then a couple of circular movements – It seems that everything is fine – He said while he went down a little towards your entrance that was now a little wet and then give a couple of more circles on your clit, your heart was beating fast inside your chest while you felt how his long fingers rubbed your most sensitive spot.

You closed your eyes and tried to stifle any sound that might come out of your mouth, none of this seemed abnormal to him so you calmed yourself everything is fine. He returned to your entrance and moistened his fingertips to give you a couple of more strokes on your clit, you gasped quietly and then he moved his hands away and turned on the chair to take a bottle from the side table – The flow seems normal for this stage of your cycle – he said as you heard the sound of the liquid coming out of the bottle – I will check the inside now… I’m going to press on your pelvis at the same time... if it needs more lubricant feel free to tell me – he continued – If there is any kind of pain please let me know.

– Okay… – You answered as you took a breath, a warm familiar feeling was forming in your lower belly and you began to feel embarrassed to feel that way.

Law is just doing his job You thought I just have to breathe and it will pass soon

It was then when his fingers brushed your entrance, you swallow nervously trying to stay calm. His left hand rolled your pelvis, his fingers entered without difficulty thanks to his lubricant (and your own wetness).

– Very good – He said suddenly – I'm going to press ok? – you felt how the fingers of his right hand began to digit inside you while the left one pressed on your pelvis – I may have to go in and out a couple of times but it's normal – After a few times of pressing inside he pulled his fingers out and went back in in a slow movement and repeated a couple of times more, an involuntary moan came out of your lips when he brushed a sensitive area inside – Is it painful?... I'm going to press again and let me know the intensity – before you could answer he curled his fingers inside you again pressing that sensitive spot and you let out a needy sigh.

– Law... it's not pain... – You said while breathing heavily.

That he knew perfectly well he had been looking for your sweet spot for a while, he smiled to himself as he saw how your body reacted to his touch. Then suddenly the pressure on your pelvis disappeared, without another word he withdrew his fingers and turned the chair around to grab a towel.

– Everything seems to be excellent – He said in a casual tone ignoring how your chest was rising and falling rapidly – I'm going to clean you so you can change – He passed a paper towel over the area in circular movements with special attention on the upper part – We are done now... I think we have all the drugs available… I'll get them while you change, I'll be back in a second – He said getting up.

You lowered your legs from the supports with difficulty and sat; your cheeks were red and your vision blurred. Clearly it was all part of the examination but your body did not agree with the lack of contact and longed for release. You walked over to the screens to put on your clothes trying to ignore the forming wetness between your legs then you sat in the chair in front of the desk while looking at the stretcher and unconsciously squeezed your thighs together, you let out a frustrated gasp as you waited.

He had entered the medical storage closet, a small room inside the medical wing that was normally kept locked; you looked at the maps to distract yourself from the warm feeling that was tenting your cunt. You slightly heard the tinkling of the glass through the closed door while he was looking for the medicines, a few minutes passed and you heard a little frustrated sigh from Law; maybe we didn't have the drugs after all but after about 5 minutes the door opened. Law entered the office again with a frown on his face with a small metal box in his right hand, but something was missing... his white coat was gone and he was just in his usual attire.

– We have two options... – He said taking a seat while running his hand across his forehead – The first one is simple but has some side effects that could be quite strong and annoying – He continued looking at you – It consists of a hormonal treatment, specifically with contraceptive mechanisms there are several options we can review for you – He turned back to his notes – It would be the simplest way out however we also have option number two – He continued and looked at you again.

–We can try with supplements, changes in your diet and rest cycles, besides reducing stress there are some.... exercises that I would like you to try – His look darkened a little on the last sentence – We will give you a 3 month trial period and if that doesn't work we go back to option one, what do you think? –

You blinked a couple of times processing the information – I like the sound of the second one… I don't really lose anything by trying – You pondered

– Very good – He smiled slightly – Let's create a basic regimen – He opened the box and took out a couple of amber glass bottles – The supplements consist of vitamin b and magnesium that will help you with muscle compression during your period.... – He slid them slowly to your side of the table as he wrote on a new note – One pill of each a day and also recommend that you replace coffee with tea especially chamomile or ginger tea and avoid red meat – You took the bottles and watched him write down when he finished he looked up at you – There is something else... – You looked back at him carefully – I need you to touch yourself – You opened your eyes in surprise and looked at him in confusion.

– I beg your pardon captain? – You said while blushing

– At least once or twice a week… you will see… there are some studies on the effectiveness of masturbation as an agent in controlling the intensity and frequency of menstrual pain – His tone was still serious there was no trace of joking in it – If that doesn't work then we will evaluate hormonal treatment – In one motion he tore off the clinical sheet and handed it to you – Do you have any questions? –

– Is there... is there a problem if I don't... if I don't do the exercises – You asked embarrassed – I share a room with Ikkaku and there is not much time when I am alone – Besides you didn't want to talk about it in the future.

– You can do it here – He said lifting his shoulders – No one will bother you here… Just make sure you close the door and keep the area clean – You looked at him in shock. He was treating it as if it was something usual like putting a bandage or a blood pressure measurement – But…– He looked at you with understanding – If you find it uncomfortable you can skip it, however as a medical professional I suggest you consider it –

You looked away from the medical note – I... will think about it... thank you very much Captain – you said getting up from your seat.

– No problem – He said – Don't forget to monitor your period. I will schedule you for a check-up in two weeks to evaluate the effectiveness of the treatment

– Sure... I won't forget – You told him as you quickly left the room. Law let out a sigh as soon as the door closed, normally he wasn't this kind of person, the medical profession was sacred to him; he had promised his father that he would be a good doctor when he was a kid but it was hard to stay professional when it came to you.

When he scheduled you a medical appointment he never imagined he would end up with his fingers inside your pussy, just remembering it made his pants tighten again.

It had been hard to stop touching you when he could hear the little sighs coming out of your mouth or seeing how your body reacted to his touch and it had been even harder to keep quiet inside the medicine cabinet as he cummed in his hand imagining how he would take you on the gurney, hell he had even had to clean up the mess with his medical coat.

In spite of everything the suggested treatment was not a lie… you needed to relax and a couple of orgasms could help you a lot. He knew perfectly well that you hadn't slept with anyone for months and part of it was his fault; he had scared off most of the people who had any intentions with you and those who had escaped him weren't exactly your type, God knows you were a difficult one and you didn't hesitate to kick the ass of anyone who insisted too much. He gave a frustrated grunt and forced himself to get on with his work.

-

Three days passed since your consultation and things were not going as you expected and that had nothing to do with the supplements or the lack of meatballs in the food. It was rather the fact that it was the second night you had woken up in the middle of the night thanks to a dream in which Law's long fingers were sliding over your clit and his mouth over yours kissing you tightly. The first time you woke up so agitated that Ikkaku thought you were going to die, you looked at her embarrassed and lied to her telling her it had been a nightmare and the second time you had woken up suddenly drenched in sweat around 4 am and couldn't fall asleep again.

You definitely had to do something about it or you would end up totally tired in the middle of the day. You had joined the heart pirates about a year ago, since then your only make out had been behind a bar after drinking a lot and it had ended in a not so satisfactory way; you thought that being a pirate would bring you more opportunities with men however there were not many who were interested in you and clearly you had no intention of repeating that experience so you avoided drunks no matter how attractive they were. It seemed pathetic but after a while you began to accept it, there hadn't been any problems so far.

Sure sometimes you felt horny, especially when you ovulated, however it was something you had coped with calmly but now you couldn't stop thinking about it and the situation got worse when the object of your desire was your captain. The metal floor felt cold on your bare feet as you walked to the medical bay, it was 2 am so you were sure you would be alone; you opened the door cautiously and walked in making sure to close the door.

– It's late... – A voice sounded in the darkness, you shivered even with your hands on the door lock.

– Ca... captain I didn't know you were here – Your gaze wandered to the desk to find him sitting there illuminated only by the dim flickering light of the outside light. What was he doing in the middle of the night with the light off anyway? – I’m sorry… I'll... I'll go back to my room – You said turning your gaze to the door.

– It seems wise but… – He said with a smirk – I thought you didn't want to do your exercises but here you are walking in the dark without shoes... I couldn't hear you until you opened the door – Your face felt hot with embarrassment – Have you had any strange symptoms? – His voice that until now had seemed casual changed to a more serious tone like the one you had heard during the medical appointment. You remained quiet still in front of the door – Well? – He insisted, you turned around to meet his gaze.

– I have a little insomnia, that's all – You lied.

– Then what are you doing here? You could go anywhere else – You opened your mouth to answer but he was quicker – It's not good to lie to your doctor… How will you get well that way? – He opened the drawer to pull out a pair of gloves and moved the chair a bit away from the desk and sat again – Come here – His tone still sounded professional yet there was a spark of mandate that hadn't been there before.

You walked hesitantly to the front of the desk as he put his gloves on. You looked at his hands carefully and after a few seconds you looked away, he did not move from his chair just looked you up and down. You felt totally vulnerable: You were not wearing a bra, just a light blouse with thin straps that barely covered your belly button and elastic shorts, you were on their way to a summer island so it was a little hot.

– I said come here – He tapped the desk a couple of times. You looked at him confused for a moment, but his look seemed serious so you circled the desk cautiously, you positioned yourself between his chair and the desk – Perfect, now sit please – He said looking at you from the chair and you bit your lip nervously while you leaned slightly on the table – Ideally we should do this on the stretcher but we don't want to make too much noise.... as I say it's late – He repeated and then his covered hand stretched towards you until it touched the inside of your knee – I suggest you sit or you will fall – You sat up fully and his hand started to move up on your bare thighs – I'm going to show you how to do it properly – Your breathing started to quicken.

His hand caressed your thighs going up slowly until he reached the bottom of the fabric that now it seemed to be too short – Oh pretty cute – He said while he played with the small lace that adorned the edges of the bastille and with a slow movement he began to caress your crotch on the fabric with his right hand while his left hand continued to go up and down on your thighs. After a few seconds a sigh left your mouth as his hands worked masterfully over your clothes, you closed your eyes.

It's not real You thought trying to flooded your mind I am dreaming

His hand went inside your shorts and caressed over your underwear that was starting to get wet – Let's take this off – He said in a neutral tone.

You opened your eyes and met him, there were a couple of things you hadn't noticed: his hair was a little messy and his shirt had all the buttons open. You leaned on your feet and slid the fabric down your hips to the floor, nervously you sat back on the desk with your legs closed – Excellent – He indicated, you hesitated a few seconds until you felt his hand on your knee – I need you to open your legs again – You opened them slowly. He positioned himself again in the center – I want you to watch carefully – His hands went up your thighs cautiously until they reached your pussy, the tip of his fingers began to trace the shape of your labia majora until he went to the a little up where he found your clit – We are going to work your clit today.... I'm going to show you how and then you'll do it for yourself – He made a circular motion over your sensitive skin and then down to your entrance – You're pretty wet so we can work with that – He moistened his fingers at your entrance and returned to your clit just like he had done during the exam.

– Let's play with a medium pressure in a circular way to stimulate you – you let out a sigh when his fingers started to move – Like this... it feels good doesn't it? – You nodded looking at him as his fingers were sliding creating a delicious friction – I prefer the answers to be verbal, let's try, shall we? – He said looking into your eyes

– Yes... yes captain – You said with difficulty.

– Very good girl, you are an excellent patient – He answered pleased – Now we are going to alternate with ascending and descending movements, these are going to be in a faster rhythm – As soon as his movements changed your breathing instantly became agitated, he looked at you and smiled. You started to feel more aroused, you fully open your legs to allowed him to moisten his fingers with your juices making the rhythm accelerate. You began to gasp and suddenly he returned to the initial slow gyrating rhythm causing an electric sensation to rise from your pussy to your lower stomach and you let out a low moan – How was that? Did you feel it? – He loved to watch you fall apart in his hands.

– We... well... yes it was very good – You tried to gather your thoughts but he started to pick up the pace again.

– It's called edging – He said – Let's do it a couple more times – With that you began to feel the pressure build up again – That’s it... very good – His left hand left your thigh and rested in his lap without stopping touching you.

You let out a needy moan – Are you close honey? – the pet name had escaped him as his professional side was beginning to slip. Then just as the knot was about to loosen inside you he pulled his hand away, a sound of frustration left your lips and you began to tremble.

– Please... – you said looking at him imploringly – please captain....–

– Look at this, you're soaking wet darling – he patted a couple of times over pussy and got his fingers wet from your entrance – Alright... let's make you cum – He started touching you again making circular movements in a medium rhythm, at some point the hand in his lap started moving over his length.

Your arms began to give out and you had to lean your elbows on the desk – Captain... damn it – his fingers moved mercilessly over your clit, you could feel the spasms of your orgasm building inside you. Your eyes closed, your hips shook and your breathing became erratic.

– Don't hold back – He told you in a growl, you let out a high pitched scream and then you saw stars. The warm sensation spread through your lower stomach and you flexed your knees trying to close your legs – No... let's spread it – his other hand came back to you to keep your legs open and he looked at you without stopping touching you, you were trembling from the over stimulation you couldn't hold yourself anymore and you leaned back completely on the desk.

One of your hands took his with a weak grip to stop the movements – I can't... I... it's too much – You said pleadingly, his eyes were darker than usual and looked at you hungrily, for a moment you thought he was going to get angry but he just smiled. He lifted his wet hand and put it in your mouth, you moaned into his fingers as you tasted yourself, he pumped a couple of times and pulled them out without further creating a trail of saliva.

– Perfect – He said as he settled back in his chair, took off his gloves and threw them into the trash can – Let's rest for a moment – You tried to understand his words as you regulated your breathing with difficulty – You have to show me that you can do it alone – A few minutes passed and just when the endorphins began to leave your body, reality fell upon you.

Clearly this was not a dream, you were practically naked in the medical bay in front of him, he had touched you and you had the best orgasm of your fucking life. You began to get up gingerly, Law looked up from the chair without saying anything; your feet touched the floor and your trembling legs struggled to support you.

– I'm waiting honey – He said without taking any notice of your attempt to run away – Show me what you learned and you'll be free to go –

The button of his jeans was open and the zipper down, his erection was noticeable – Law… – His name sounded glorious on your lips.

– Be a good girl and show me – He interrupted you. His hand began to move over his boxers revealing his erection, you lost your breath as he began to slowly stroke and it was huge and curved slightly upwards. You feel yourself craving for him.

The heat was starting to build up between your legs again, you licked your lips and closed your eyes to take a breath. You leaned back on the desk and spread your legs, your hand went to your pussy; you started to slowly caress it, feeling small shivers. Two of your fingers were making circular movements over your clit and you opened your eyes… He was watching you from the chair with his hand on his cock, you started to tremble as you accelerated the rhythm – That darling, very nice – His hand was sliding down his shaft following the rhythm of your movements – Now slower... – Your pussy protested with a spasm when you stopped to slow down the rhythm.

– Holy shit... – You said in a low voice while trying to recover your eyes couldn't stop looking at him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were fixed on you, he let out a small sigh when you started again and ran his other hand through his hair to see you clearly.

You speed up the rhythm again at his image, that was all, you didn't intend to make it longer or you were going to faint. With linear movements you traced a fast rhythm over your clit, your legs trembled as the orgasm began to form inside you – Slowly – He said with a grunt, you could see how the pre seminal fluid adorned his tip.

You decided that was enough, your rhythm remained steady until you climaxed closing your eyes. You were a difficult person, he knew that and making you follow instructions sometimes was not easy. However he was also quite close, he stroked faster and after a few moments he cum at the sight of your body sunk in ecstasy, he could punish you later.

Both of you were breathing heavily as you recovered, after a moment you heard him get up but you didn't open your eyes. After a while you felt something soft between your legs: he was cleaning you.

– Not listening to your doctor can have consequences – He said seriously – Especially if he is also your captain –

– It was quite a difficult task… – you answered between breaths.

– You're going to have to put more effort into it tomorrow – he replied as he helped you up.

You looked at him as he lifted your clothes off the floor and helped you put them back on – 02:00 am – He said putting his hands on your hips and looked you in the eyes – Now rest and remember to drink plenty of water to recover fluids – With that he walked away.

[wehangout]

Another @shamelessdvdcommentary requested by the wonderful @suzy-queued with questions made by the amazing @callivich! This one is for Slick back My Hair (You know the Devil's in There)! These are a lot of fun, so hit me up if you want to see this for a different fic 😘

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Wrote it in 2015! It’s a long one-shot, and I think my second ever shameless big bang.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Okay. Took me a minute. I knew this was inspired by a one-shot I wrote for GW2015 that has since been taken down, but I also knew the one-shot was inspired by something and it took forever to go back and figure it out. Anyway, the initial one-shot was inspired by the Day 7 theme of “Imagine Your OTP – go to the website http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/ and choose a prompt!”. I don’t recall what the exact prompt was (I think digging a grave together), BUT apparently I still have the one-shot posted here on tumblr if you wanna read it! So, yeah, the Big Bang fic was inspired by this one-shot which was inspired by GW2015. Phew. That was a novel on its own

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because I am me.

What was your favourite scene to write?

I’m not sure, but reading back, I really like the scenes with side characters as assasins. Sheila, Jimmy, and Angela. Fun stuff.

How did you come up with the title?

Ugh. This was back when iTunes was a thing lmao. I basically went through all my music, picking out songs I thought might fit the fic’s plot, then went through the lyrics.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

Two! I had fake IDs with the names John Foley and Axel McClane which is a reference to John McClane and Axel Foley – Die Hard and Beverly Hills Cop respectively. And I also had this line “Two inches to the right and it would’ve hit your fucking heart, Ian.” "Two inches to the left and it would have missed me completely” which was reference to The Mighty Ducks. Only one reader picked up on these lol.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

The Terry fight scene. And, honestly, I just pushed through it.

Favourite line in the story?

Okay, the “My hero” continuation, but also, back in 2015, I wrote, word for word, “Knew you’d come.” I mean, it’s Ian saying it, but obvi why it’s a fave lmao

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

I wouldn’t call them twists, but the little surprises that turn up along the way – Sheila being a badass, the texter being Mandy.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

At the end, where Mickey goes to save Ian. Ian’s “goodbye” is legit. Dude was sure they (at least he) was going to die.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

It’s very quick. I’d probably add more depth to it. (also the title shh)

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

I’ve considered it, but one half of the dynamic duo gets taken in this one. What other plot could there be?

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

I think I did the big Oh moment in this, along with a few others. I think that’s about it.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

This is definitely not my most popular, lol, but I appreciate the love it’s received!

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Oh, always excited

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

I did! Again, this was back in 2015 when my pal Ella @hubrisandwax was still around. We had similar time zones, so we’d Skype and write at night (poetry, bitch), and have our own little sprints. She was my cheerleader and beta!

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I know this is an Ian and Mickey romance, but I actually preferred the scenes after Ian was taken. Getting into Mickey’s head when he’ll do literally anything to get Ian back? Including torture and murder his own brother? That shit was fun.

[spicywhenspeaking]

Crush Crush Crush : Noah x Reader One Shot FLUFFFFFF

you're Folios sister and you have a crush on Noah and Noah keeps asking you about who you like with no idea its him.

writers block made me do it and no beta. we die like men.

also I apparently don't like writing anyone that's an only child lmao.

The first time It’s when I’m talking to my brother Nick. He’s the drummer in the band. “Oh don’t be such a baby!” Nick has not let this go, “Just tell him how you feel! It’s making you act weird around him and no one likes an awkward freak hanging around” he ruffles my hair for emphasis. “Oh I don’t know big bro they keep you around” I turn to push him lightly back in retaliation. “It’s just a stupid crush,” I tell him. “I’ll get over it and be on to the next one in no time flat” I finish as we exit the bus. “Ooooh, Y/N’s gotta crush? Who’s the lucky guy?” I cringe internally when I see the face that matches the questioning voice. It’s Noah. Of course, it is. I stumble slightly at the last step, he reaches to steady me and Nick laughs at the embarrassment that is my life unfolding in front of us. 

“Oh no one, it’s nothing…no one really, not a person around, my brother is just being stupid” I ramble on for far too long. “Folio you’re holding out on me.” He winks at me with a determined look in his eyes. “I’ll get this figured out, no doubt,” Noah says confidently. I try to subtly elbow my brother but he lets out a quiet “uf.”

“Nothing to figure out! I assure you, no crushes to be had. Not by me at least.” I say and try to sound as convincing as possible. Noah’s eyes meet mine and my insides are quaking as I fight away any reaction “Hmm so it’s not Nicholas?” He asks and I’m a flustered mess. “Rufulio? No way, he’s almost like another brother. Attractive yes, but no. And I already said! I don’t have a crush on anyone! God!” I huff and walk away, leaving the two guys to themselves. 

The second time Noah asks, it’s after a movie night, I’m cleaning up the kitchen and he sneaks up behind me. “It’s Jolly? Isn’t it?” I shriek in surprise at his sudden appearance and soapy foam sprays over us both. “Jesus Christ Noah! Don’t do that” I hold my hand to my heart and feel it beating rapidly. He laughs, lightly wiping some of the soap from his face. “Oops. Sorry….But it is Jolly, isn’t it? That’s who you have a crush on.” He asks again. “You two looked pretty cozy during the movie” he raises his eyebrows to add emphasis to his words only pointing out his already perfect face. Jerk… “No,” I respond. “I don’t have a crush on Jolly.” I roll my eyes.  “And since when is sitting next to someone on the couch “getting cozy.” We weren’t even touching!” I emphasize.

I wish Noah would just drop this little teasing game he’s decided to play. Of course, Nicky is no help. When I talk to him about it he just says “It would be over if you just told him how you felt.” Like it’s that easy. Sure, I’ll tell him how I feel and He’ll tell me he doesn’t see me like that. I’ll die of embarrassment and only see my brother at Christmas. Nick said I was being dumb and walked away back into his room. “Hey, I would get it” Noah starts again raising his hands in defense. “He’s tall, has that cool accent going on, major hottie.” I dry my hands off and huff an annoyed breath. “I don’t have a crush on Jolly,” I repeat to Noah. “I don’t have a crush on anyone.” Liar. Just tell him. He’s right there. Just tell him. Noah’s eyes are piercing into me “I thought we were friends Y/N, you know you can tell me stuff like that. Right?” Placing the kitchen towel back on the counter I think for a moment. “We are friends, Noah, yeah. But this whole crush thing is so middle school. If I did have one, it wouldn’t matter” I turn around and look out the back window into the backyard. “I would hate to risk telling someone and they don’t feel the same way, I would be so mortified.” From behind me, I hear a small “Ah, yeah. I get it.” He moves to get closer and puts his hand on my shoulder pulling me slightly to turn back around. “Any guy would be lucky to have you crushing on them y/n.” I blush and carefully maneuver myself out of his grasp running into the corner of the island. “Ow, Fuck” I yelp and Noah moves closer to check if I’m okay. “Um, thanks but-” I check my watch and notice the late hour. “You know I should really get going, it’s late.” I gather my belongings and Noah follows me to the door. “Thanks for coming to the movies tonight,” he says as I pass through the door. “Yeah, it was fun.” I responded, “Goodnight Noah.” I offer a small wave once I get to my car. 

“Goodnight Y/N. Text me when you get home safe, okay?” His smile is so sweet when he’s saying it. 

“Oh! Um okay!”

Y/N: home!

Noah: Glad to hear it :) goodnight! 

The third time it happens they’re just coming off stage from a show. Sweaty and breathless Noah approaches me when I’m talking casually with one of the backstage crew. He throws his arm around me and pulls me into his sweat-drenched side. “Eww Noah! Stop” I try to wiggle out of his grip. “Oh come on y/n it’s not that bad,” he says shaking his hair, releasing droplets of perspiration all around. “God y’all are gross!” I laugh and the rest of the guys approach, Nicky is yelling “GROUP HUG!” And suddenly I’m surrounded by 4 sweaty men and it’s not even hot because one of them is my brother. “NOOOO!!!! Get offff! You STINK!” I screech. Nicky just rubs his sweaty hair against my face and says “Come on Sis, this is why you’re on tour with us right?! Encompassed by sweaty men? Or is it just one man?” I turn beat red and manage to wiggle my way out of the pile and huff out in annoyance. “Shut up Nicky, god. Y’all are so annoying. I’ll see you back at the hotel.” I wipe the sweat my brother smeared on my cheek and walk away but I hear heavy footsteps following me.

“Hey, y/n wait up” Noah calls. I slow down and turn my head back “What Noah? I’d seriously like to go back to my room now and wash off y’all’s stink.” He catches up, laughing at my comment, and continues walking with me. “Why don’t you wait for us? It’ll be safer than walking alone.” One of the tech guys wheels a giant amp right in front of our path so we’re forced to stop. “I’m walking back with Bryan actually, we talked about getting bubble tea at that shop we saw on the way.” His smile fades slightly and his shoulders fall. “Oh. So you and Bryan.” Noah says softly. “Y’all are like..?” His open-ended question stuns me slightly “We’re like? What? Getting boba?” My face is scrunched in a confused face and I fiddle with the tote bag that’s digging into my shoulder. “I mean…you’re brother mentioned again about your crush and now you’re getting bubble tea with Bryan.” I don’t miss the way his voice adds a sour inflection when he mentions the boba and Bryan. “Bryan and I are getting boba. As friends.” I tell him. “And my brother should learn how to shut his mouth…I don’t have a crush on Bryan.” I get a text at the same time from Bryan telling me he’s ready at the back door when I’m good to go. “Why are you so concerned with who I have a crush on Noah?” I ask him, slightly irritated at his constant harassment on the subject. He tenses and his cheeks flush slightly deeper, already red from performing not even 20 minutes ago. “I just…have a curiosity is all. You never know how someone feels about you sometimes until you lay it all out there. But sometimes it’s hard ya know, lots of factors” he rambles out awkwardly. “Uh huh, factors. I’m gonna go, but I’ll talk to you later.” I wave and continue walking towards the backdoor where Bryan said he would be. 

We make our way out together passing the fans waiting outside the venue with ease and head to the tea shop. As were walking I mentioned to Bryan what Noah said but he just laughed. “Yeah, can’t imagine what factors he could be talking about,” he says, but based on his tone I get the sense he knows more than he’s letting on. “Yeah, okay. I just don’t understand why he’s so stuck on asking me about my crush” I vent as we walk back to the hotel with our teas. Bryan takes a long sip and says “Yeah, I don’t know y/n. Maybe, he’s just genuinely curious. Maybe he’s interested in who his competition is.” I choke on a tapioca pearl and cough “What? Competition? What do you mean by that? What competition?” I cough out again clearing out my throat. “Um, I mean that Noah would probably be curious who you are crushing on considering his massive crush on you” Bryan says and I freeze as we reach the front door of the hotel. “What?” I ask. “What do you mean?” -wait- did Bryan just say that Noah likes me? Bryan just laughs while walking through the sliding glass doors into the lobby and I run to catch up. “I’m sick of hearing him whine about you having a crush on somebody else, like your crush on him isn’t as equally noticeable to everyone but him.” Of course, my crush is obvious, god this is so embarrassing, “but Bryan-“ I start to say but notice I’m standing in the lobby by myself because Bryan already walked to the elevators to head up. Following after him I head into the elevator after him. “Wait, what do you mean about Noah having a crush on me?” The doors close and we head up together. 

The fourth time goes a little differently. It’s been a few hours since the concert and I texted Nick to ask what the boys were doing after the show and he only responded that “Noah was in his room if I wanted to stop being a baby and tell him how I feel.” I rolled my eyes but after my talk with Bryan, I felt better about laying it all on the table. Noah was as nervous to tell me about his feelings as I was. I showered, blow-dried my hair, put on makeup, and put on my black skater dress. Slipping on my black ballet flats I walk down the long hallway to Noah’s room. I follow the red and blue floral pattern on the rug until I reach his room. I softly knock on the door and hear shuffling from inside. “Just a second!” I hear Noah’s muffled voice and a quiet “fuck!” and smack into the wall. He swings the door open and breathes in when he sees me. “Oh, y/n! How’s it going? What brings you this way?” He rambles and looks me up and down, taking in the way my dress hugs my curves and my hair frames my face softly. “I just wanted to stop by before I headed out for the night,” I tell him casually. “The night?” he questions as his eyebrows knit together. “You’re going out?” I nod. “That’s the plan at least.” Noah takes a step out of his room and I can smell his fresh woody scent wafting out. “Like a date?” his voice is in a whisper and I hope this plan works. “I hope so,” I tell him and his mouth forms a frown. “Oh. You’re going on a date. Do I know the guy?” His dejected tone kills me but after all his teasing these last few weeks a little teasing in return is only fair. “Yeah, I’d say you know him pretty well.” I take a step even closer, my head an inch away from his chest and I look up at him through my lashes. “Why do you care Noah?” I ask in a sweet voice and his cheeks warm. “Um, I just worry about you going out with some stranger so late..you should probably just wait until tomorrow,” he tells me. “Oh, but I’m not going out with a stranger, I’ve known him a long time.” I move my hand up to rest on his chest and he freezes. “He’s been my friend for a while but I’ve always felt like there was something more." I pause before continuing. "I’ve always liked him as much more than a friend.” Noah’s hand covers mine on his chest and there’s a small smile forming on his face. “So I know this guy pretty well huh? Can you tell me his name?” He’s leaning down as he asks and our mouths are now just inches away. “Yes, I can tell you.” We move even closer. “But first, can you answer a question for me?” I ask and he laughs. “Of course,” he answers and moves his other hand to cup my cheek. “Who do you have a crush on?” He laughs again and leans his forehead against mine. “It’s always been you Y/N” and his lips finally meet mine in a tender kiss. “Now where are we going on this date?”

divider from here

thanks again for reading <3

ask’s are open for requests or anything really lmao :)

[daemour]

banner by @nixiecreates

Pairing: Hongjoong x f!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

WC: 1009

Summary: You're oblivious to Hongjoong's advances. So he decides to tell you in the most obvious way he can

This took....way too long to write lol. it was supposed to come out like a week ago but I never finished it. atp tho, i just wanna get a fic out for u guys lol so no beta we die like men

-

Hongjoong doesn’t know exactly when he started falling in love with you. And to be honest, he doesn’t want to pinpoint the moment either. That’s just not his style at all. He’s happy loving you without any of the theatrics. You haven’t caught onto his feelings, and Hongjoong is totally okay with that. He wants to see where this will lead naturally, so he does nothing but flirt…rather badly. And yet, you are still oh-so blind. Some days, he even questions if you do it on purpose.

Okay, maybe it bothers Hongjoong just a little bit. How much more obvious does he have to be? He wrote you a goddamn song!

“Seonghwa, I’m going to go mad,” Hongjoong complains to his best friend. “How is (Y/N) so dense?”

Unbothered, Seonghwa continues rearranging his mug cupboard. “Maybe you should talk to her,” he suggests, but Hongjoong physically cringes at the thought.

“Talk to her?” he repeats and Seonghwa sighs, finally turning around to face Hongjoong with a look of exasperation apparent.

“You said it yourself, Joong. (Y/N)’s totally oblivious to your…honestly quite embarrassingadvances. Either you tell her how you feel, or you don’t and just continue wallowing.”

Hongjoong huffs. “Stop being logical,” he grumbles but Seonghwa just smiles and returns to his task.

To be honest, Hongjoong might just follow Seonghwa’s advice. He’s a patient man…but not that patient. He values your friendship but knows that if he leaves it be he’s going to grow to resent himself and even you.

“Seonghwa.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” Hongjoong whines. “I just need your help with one thing!”

One of his mugs slams down on the counter. “Why am I friends with you? Fine, what do you want from me?”

Hongjoong beams. “I owe you! Okay, so I need you to help me convince this old lady to let me on her roof.”

Seonghwa is unimpressed. “Can I go back on my word?”

-

When Hongjoong called you to meet him on your apartment rooftop, you had many questions. One of them was how he even got access to the roof, but that was not too much of a worry. He always knew how to charm people and your landlady was no exception.

“Joong, you better have a good explanation,” you start to playfully scold him but stop dead in your tracks at the sight before you. Flowers, far too many of them decorated…everything. It looked like a flower shop and you were stunned at the sight of it. In the centre of it all stood your very best friend.

“Surprise?” His words come out carefully and you can’t help but smile at his obvious nervousness.

“What is all this?” You can’t keep the wonder out of your voice.

Hongjoong smiles gently. “So…you’re kind of an idiot,” he proclaims, the (not so) baseless accusation making your mouth drop open.

“What?” you question, voice hardening.

Hongjoong backtracks, as he should. “Wait– that didn’t come out properly. I mean…you’re kinda blind?”

You stare at him. “For someone supposedly really good with words, you’re sure doing a shit job, Kim Hongjoong.” The corners of his lips pull down into a slight pout and you can’t hide your smile anymore. As much fun as it is to tease him, you know he didn’t mean it in that way. “What really is it, Joongie?”

Hongjoong is nervous, uncharacteristically so. You’ve seen him like this before, when he was best man at Wooyoung’s wedding and when he was working on important projects with a looming deadline, but never to this extent. “(Y/N), I have an important question.”

You frown, taking a few steps closer. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath before looking at you with such softness in his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

His words hit you like a truck. “You’re in love with me?” you can’t help but repeat his words although he doesn’t mind.

“Yes.” Hongjoong smiles crookedly, his eyes focused on you. “It was a slow process, I will admit. It took me a long time to untangle whether I was just…extra fond of you or if I was in love. In the end, are those two that different?”

You can’t help the smile making its way onto your face. “I suppose not.”

“And when I finally figured it out, I tried to tell you. Honestly, half the stuff I did was so damn embarrassing. But you just never noticed.”

You blink. “That was you trying to flirt?”

Hongjoong blinks, once, twice. “What?”

“What?” You stare back.

“You didn’t know I was flirting?” Hongjoong’s voice rises in pitch. “It was so obvious! I wrote you a song!”

He’s panicking and now so are you. “Which song? Every time you showed me a song all you did was ask my opinion! How was I supposed to know they were for me?”

“It was labelled your name, (Y/N)!” Hongjoong takes another deep breath as he sees that the conversation is not going the way he wanted it to. “Look, despite all that, I just figured you should know.”

You smile gently, and Hongjoong braces himself for the worst. “Well, thank you for letting me know that you’re falling for me too.”

Hongjoong’s brows scrunch at how you phrased that sentence…and then his mouth drops. “Too?” His voice cracks and you giggle, taking a step towards him.

“You heard me right, Joongie. You’re not the only one in love with their friend.”

Hongjoong can’t help his eyes tearing up, he really can’t. He wouldn’t say he’s an emotional guy per se but in this moment it seems all right to let it all out. “I’m glad,” he manages to choke out as he smiles back. “Can I kiss you?”

The question is sudden, but welcome judging from the shine in your eyes. “Please do,” you whisper, and Hongjoong moves to close the gap between you two. As his eyes close, he can’t help but think to himself that this is the life he wants to have forever.

[youareinacomawakeup]

I’m too tired to go too deep into detail on this one but here’s my Kingdom Hearts 4 theory that I want to put out into the world.

The nameless star and the girl we see in the Verum Rex trailer aren’t actually the same person. It’s a red herring.

Yozora takes clear inspiration from Noctis from FFXV (e.g. the scene of Yozora in the car that’s shot-for-shot a scene from an early trailer with Yozora replacing Noctis).

And while many think that’s because Nomura is using ideas he never got to bring to life when he worked on Versus XIII, aka “Beta FFXV”, before the project moved on without him, I think it’s less that and more to do with Nomura’s feelings in letting go of his characters and letting someone else write their story.

I think Yozora is the answer to the question “What if Noctis knew that his story was so far removed from what was originally planned? What if he knew his fate was changed?” (Put a pin in that, because there’s more to this question.)

Anyway, we all saw the nameless star for the first time and... Okay, well, a lot of us thought it was Strelitzia at first and that Square Enix North America (henceforth SENA) had just put romantic dialogue somewhere that wasn’t supposed to be romantic and accidentally made Marluxia sound like Strelitzia’s love interest. (Wouldn’t be the first time that happened in KH3. Thank you SENA.) But once we saw more of her and Yozora in Melody of Memory and Re:Mind respectively, we all realized she was from the same place Yozora was from, and we all thought about the only girl we know who’s from Verum Rex and we all just...

...assumed.

But we haven’t seen the nameless star’s face. And we haven’t heard Verum Rex girl’s voice. So we don’t actually have any confirmation that they’re the same person.

So here’s my suggestion.

Verum Rex girl is Luna in this equation.

And Nameless Star is Stella, the girl who was originally going to be Noct’s love interest back when FFXV was Versus XIII.

We meet Nameless Star in what is essentially Kingdom Hearts Purgatory. But she’s from a fictional world. Fictional characters can’t die. Not in the way we know it. I can pop Into the Spider-Verse into my DVD player, hit play, and boom, there’s Uncle Aaron, alive. You can’t do that with real people.

But if a character is written out of a story, they’re gone forever. That, I propose to you, is true death for a fictional character, which is why Nameless Star is hanging out with dead people. And she’s lost everything. Her whole identity. Her name. And the person she loves doesn’t remember her. Because she’s not part of his story anymore.

Yozora also says that the way he looks isn’t what he really looks like. A lot of people have taken that to be the start of an explanation for why he looks like Riku, and it still might be in some roundabout way, but I propose to you that he’s been redesigned, and he’s aware of it.

So here’s the core of what this all means, why it’s relevant.

Kingdom Hearts loves its parallels, yeah?

So here’s what I propose to you.

Sora’s story is also, as we speak, being rewritten. At least in a sense.

Sora sees Riku’s light, and twenty minutes later, it’s apparently Kairi’s light.

Sora saves seven hearts, including Riku’s, and three hours later, he’s only saved six, and Kairi’s heart is the seventh.

Somehow or another, Yozora found out about what happened to him, and, due to some trial or another, also found out what is currently happening to Sora. And he wants to save Sora from suffering his fate.

I don’t think there’s any hope for Yozora himself. He is, after all, the night sky, what could have happened if Sora’s story got the “bad end”, so to speak.

But I do think he can “save Sora.”

So here’s the rest of that question.

What if Noctis knew that his story was so far removed from what was originally planned? What if he knew his fate was changed?

And what if he saw the same thing happening to Sora, a kid destined to have a queer love story but forced into a romance with a girl by a greater power instead, and refused to let that slide?

[lauronk]

https://www.tumblr.com/lauronk/755126061482835968/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where?source=share Okay so I happen to be the person who has a lot of imagination for fic ideas even tho I don't have the writing skills.

Maybe an Star Wars AU where joel is a mandalorian and he has a mission to find and capture baby ellie for someone because she has some kind of value (like little grogu and his powers) but then he is just this hot man in a space bountyhunter suit that has a little girl hanging on his leg across space to everybody, and he can't get rid of her to his motherfucking clients because she's just so cute and likes to mess around on his spaceship and even has her own little chair and always gives a little peck on his helmet!!! And then when he finally lets her see his face, her little hand just grabs his big ass nose and he laughs because he knows it is too big, and then she finally gives him a little kiss on his nose instead of the helmet and their eyes met for the first time🥹and then when he wants to put the helmet back she makes a sad face and tries to put the helmet down, because now that she knows what her space daddy looks like she just wants to see his pretty eyes and kiss his big ass nose all the time.

okay so a couple of disclaimers before we get started:

i know SO LITTLE about star wars. i've watched mando and boba fett and ahsoka, but that's it. so if there's words or phrases or literally anything i got wrong, i'm very sorry, please be gentle with me. shoutout to my homie @princessofinterest for letting me bombard her with questions

ALSO. i sped-read this prompt, wrote the ficlet, had my friend help me fill in some stuff, and then came back and re-read it and realized...i did not quite do what you requested 😅 so i'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting but hopefully you still enjoy!

ALSO ALSO. i finished, was rereading, and realized i messed up my own timeline. so- yeah. it's been a brain-melty kind of week, so i'm very sorry

a space bound rocket ship (and your heart's the moon)

length: ~2.3k words tags: joel & ellie; star wars au; mandalorianverse au; joel is a mandalorian; din & grogu cameo; the author knows so little about star wars; father-daughter relationship; the cargo-to-babygirl pipeline remains; no beta we die like david

This was definitely not the plan.

Joel stares down at the little girl, eyes roaming over her worriedly through his visor, and she stares defiantly back up at him.

This was not the plan, and now he’s got a whole bunch of Morgan Elsbeth’s minions after him. All because he couldn’t just walk away when they tried to take her, even though it’s what he had been paid to do. Find the girl, transport her to Corvus and hand her over. The why didn’t matter to him so much as the payment. And maybe if everything had gone the way it should have - three days, max, of traveling with her before handing her over - then he wouldn’t be in this situation. But transport had taken nearly two months for an increasingly absurd number of reasons.

Dodging bounty hunters. Damage to the stabilizer on his ship. Two attempted abductions of her.

So naturally, by the time Joel had gotten her to Morgan, she had walked away with this faintly betrayed look on her face that had wormed underneath his beskar and pressed against his heart until he’d caved. He’d damn near blown the place up getting her out of there, and now she was curled up on the front seat of his ship, chin on her knees, scrapes on her hands and a scratch across her face.

Joel sighs, the sound slightly distorted by his helmet. “C’mon, Ellie, let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Ellie’s not speaking to him, it would seem. Even though he went back for her, she apparently wasn’t over the fact that he’d left her to begin with. So she stays completely silent - more quiet than she’s ever been around him - as he wipes down her hands and her face and pulls out clean clothes for her to wear.

Once she reemerges, clean and dressed and still sulking, Joel nudges her gently up to the cockpit of the ship.

“You hurt?”

She doesn’t respond, and when Joel turns back to look at her, she mutely shakes her head.

“Good.” He lowers himself to the seat, tilting his head towards the one to his right. “Buckle up.” They’re sort of just cruising through space at this point, the ship on autopilot while Joel figures out what to do and where to point them, but that won’t be sufficient for long. He’s gonna need a plan, an actual plan. Somewhere safe for them to lay low for a bit.

And he thinks he knows just the guy to help them out.

–

“How old did you say you were?”

Ellie’s arms are crossed over her chest, face turned out the window. “Eight,” she says flatly. She looks younger than it though, probably closer to six if he’d had to guess. He’s got no way of knowing what her genetic makeup is though - and it’d be rude as hell to ask - so maybe she just aged slower, looked younger for longer.

“What did they want with you?”

“How should I know?” She bites out, still not looking at him.

Joel fiddles with the controls a bit, double checks their flight path. “They didn’t say nothin’?”

“Nope.” She pops the end of the word, emphasizing the ‘p’. “Just wheeled me back and started sticking needles in my arms.”

Joel sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them, Ellie has finally turned to look at him, staring at him so hard he thinks she’s trying to see straight through his helmet to his face. He’s never been more glad to not take it off - she’s young, but she’s too goddamn perceptive.

“Y’know,” he says slowly, gloved fingers gripping the sides of the yoke. “You asked me awhile back why I wear the helmet and don’t take it off.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow. “Yeah…”

Joel hadn’t given her an answer then, too focused on keeping a distance between him and the target. She was just a job, he’d reminded himself, even when he caught himself smiling behind his helmet at one of her many - many - ridiculous puns. Just a job. So he’d ignored that question and most of the others she’d asked.

Felt a little like he owed her an answer now, after the events of the last twelve hours.

“It’s part of my religion.” He turns away from her, finds the words flowing easier when he’s looking out at the inky darkness of space and not right into the eyes that no longer look at him so trustfully. “It’s complicated, very long story. But pretty much we wear the helmets at all times, and to remove it with those who are not family, or to have it removed, is a great dishonor. I only take it off when I’m alone. But I do that so rarely that it feels strange when I don’t have it on, like I’m missin’ some part of myself.”

Joel hears Ellie move but doesn’t look over at her, more concerned with the appearance of Nevarro in the distance.

“Cool,” Ellie replies after a pause, and he thinks her voice sounds a little warmer than it had before. “Thanks…thanks for telling me.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

–

The house is right where it should be, and as Joel readjusts his landing gear and angles them carefully down, he sees the glint of a sun off the owner’s helmet.

By the time Joel emerges, Ellie in tow, Din is standing in the doorway. Next to his boot, peeking out with wide obsidian eyes, is the small green - Joel feels bad calling it a creature, but nobody knows what species he is - form of his adopted son.

Joel lifts a hand in greeting, and Din matches the gesture. “I won’t stay long,” he says without preamble. “Ran into some trouble, and thought maybe you could help me out. If not, we’ll be on our way.”

Din’s head tilts to the side and then up, as though scanning for anyone who may have followed them. His son shifts over, and Joel catches Ellie’s whispered whoa from behind him.

“Grogu,” Din says warningly, and Grogu stops from where he’d been inching forward. His head turns back towards the Mandalorian, ears twitching, and Din tilts his head back down. Some sort of wordless message seems to pass between father and son, and then Grogu turns back to look at them, a cooing noise emanating from him. He doesn’t move any closer though.

“What do you need?” Din asks, his attention now back on Joel and Ellie.

“‘S a long story,” Joel replies. “But we need somewhere to hide out for awhile, till the people after her stop lookin’.”

Din’s head shifts minutely, as though he’s looking from Joel to Ellie and then back again. Even with two helmets - neither of their expressions visible to the other - Joel feels like he’s having his measure taken.

“She your foundling?”

“Foundl–” Ellie sputters behind him, but Joel cuts her off.

“Yes,” he says firmly.

Din is quiet for another long moment - Joel gets the sense that the other Mandalorian is a man of very few words - and Grogu coos again, his attention now on a bug crawling through the grass near him. His father looks down at him and…it surprises Joel, the visible way Din’s posture loosens and relaxes, watching Grogu waddle along slowly.

“I know a place,” he says softly, breaking the still air. His helmet is still angled towards Grogu, tracking every small move the child makes. “Safe. Quiet. Shouldn’t have any issues there.”

Relief wraps around Joel like a blanket, a weight he hadn’t even realized was on his chest lifting. “Thank you.”

Din nods. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

–

Joel’s careful as he sets down the ship in the field, already noting the heads emerging from a nearby field to watch him warily. They were a peaceful people, Din had said, but wary of outsiders. But once he found Omera and introduced himself, they’d relax and he and Ellie would be given shelter.

He looks back at Ellie, watches her peering out the window curiously. “Stay close to me,” he orders. “Don’t say anything.”

Ellie just rolls her eyes at him, traipsing along dutifully behind him. “Yeah, yeah.”

A fair number of people have gathered by the time he lowers the ramp and the two of them descend, the looks on their faces ranging from curious to openly hostile. Joel’s careful to keep his hands visible and away from the weapons on his hips, eyes flicking quickly from one person to the next.

“We’re not lookin’ for trouble,” he says loudly when they’re within earshot. “I was sent here by a friend. I’m lookin’ for Omera.”

A quick flurry of whispers passes through the crowd, heads turning and words hidden behind hands. Two people peel off from the group and dart away, and Joel watches them go with narrowed eyes. Nobody else says anything after they leave, all eyes remaining on Joel and Ellie. He can see them examining him from helmet to booted feet, taking in the dents on his armor, the gleam of the beskar on his chest, the gun at his hip.

But they all remain distant and observant until the two return, this time with a willowy woman with brown hair between them.

“Who are you?” She asks without preamble, coming to a halt ten feet away.

“Name’s Joel,” he replies gruffly. “This is Ellie –” he gestures behind him and sees her lift her hand in a wave from the corner of his eye “– and we need your help. Got some people after her, and my friend, another Mandalorian, said this was a safe place, if you’ll let us stay for a bit.”

“Hmm.” Her gaze narrows, lips pursing. “This friend - tell me about them.”

Joel shifts, eyes drifting past her to the still-swelling group of villagers behind her. “He’s a Mandalorian, like me. Travelin’ with his kid, small green child. Helped y’all get some raiders to leave you alone, him and Cara Dune.”

Omera’s face relaxes more and more with each word he utters, something wistful passing through her eyes before she looks away.

“Any friend of his is a friend of mine,” she says softly. “Come with me.”

–

It takes very little time at all for Sorgan to feel like home. The other children in the village take to Ellie almost immediately, and while there’s some lingering wariness towards Joel, it fades more and more each day. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be able to safely stay here, but he’s content in a way he hasn’t been in years.

“Joel!” Ellie yells, the door banging against the wall as she barges in. “Guess what?”

He uncrosses his boots, smiling behind his helmet at the sight of her. Covered in grass and dirt and what looks a bit like slime. “What, kiddo?”

She kicks off her shoes by the door, chest heaving. “I finally - fucking - beat - Visz - racing –” She doubles over, sucking in air to catch her breath.

Joel chuckles. “Nice. How about you celebrate by goin’ to wash up and get ready for dinner?”

Ellie salutes him and turns down the hall towards her room. Joel gets up to check behind her that the door’s shut properly, the curtains drawn over the windows. And then he sets the table, listening all the while for the sounds of Ellie cleaning up and returning.

Carefully, with a measured breath that does nothing to slow the way his pulse is racing, Joel lifts his helmet from his head and sets it on the side table. The breastplate and shoulder pauldrons follow, one piece at a time until he’s left in a simple long-sleeve shirt and the armor covering his legs.

And then he waits.

It’s only a few more minutes before Ellie emerges, water dripping from the ends of her hair. She’s looking down at the ground as she walks, not paying him the slightest bit of attention until she rounds the corner.

“Hey Joel, did we –”

Ellie halts so fast that she nearly over balances, eyes wide and jaw hanging. Joel doesn’t say anything, just sits with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes flick to the helmet and back to him again, raking over his face. “You - you’re not wearing your helmet.” Joel inclines his head. “But you –” she pauses, clearly thinking back months ago, when he’d told her why he wore the helmet all the time. Ellie swallows. “You said you only take it off around…family.”

“I did,” Joel agrees softly.

Ellie clears her throat, takes a few careful steps forward. “So…I’m not just cargo?”

Joel’s throat tightens, jaw grinding, silently cursing himself. “No, baby girl, you’re not.”

“Okay.” A few more steps forward, until her feet are brushing the tips of his boots. “Okay, cool.”

He feels exposed in a way he’s not used to, watching Ellie take in every possible facet of his face - the scars, the wrinkles, the gray peppering his beard and hair. Nothing hidden from her this time around.

“You’re old,” Ellie finally says with a giggle. Her hand lifts, one of her fingers poking gently at his cheek. “How do your bones not collapse with all that armor, don’t they deteriorate at some point?”

“Little shit,” Joel says affectionately, batting her hand away and poking her own cheek in turn. She laughs again, hand falling to her side.

“Old man,” she retorts playfully. And then before Joel can blink - or even register the movement - she’s flung her arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Automatically his own arms come up and wrap around her small frame in turn. She stays there for a minute and Joel lets her, hand rubbing softly between her shoulder blades. He waits for her to detach first, watches carefully as she steps back and scrubs at her cheek. 

“C’mon, kiddo,” Joel nudges her towards the table. “Let’s eat dinner.”

thanks for reading! you can find the full ficlet collection on my ao3.

anon, if this wasn't quite what you were looking for please let me know, and i'll try again!

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast - Sneak Peek!

Rating: 18+ MDNI (no smut in sneak peak)

A/N: For my first Frankie Friday I'm posting a sneak peek to my first fan fic Hold Fast (a one-shot? part one? possibly more?). Thank you to @vyduan for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. Full piece coming Friday, Feb 16th!

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, swearing (I'm new to this so please lmk if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 591 of ~3.9k

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down. 

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over. 

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing. 

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed. 

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!" 

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell. 

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come. 

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed photos. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.