#the way she like sighed deeply after i asked and was like ''i mean.....ok....but i don't see him anymore than you do''

[depresseddepot]

me: hey so one of the three cats has diarrhea but I need to figure out who. can you keep an eye on your cat, because he only really comes down here to use the litter box so I can't watch how he's acting like I can the others

my mother: wh.......huh........... .? "keep an eye on him"...........i mean............ill try.......how am i expected to do that......................do i just "look" at him.....?. "pay attention to him..?"......i don't think i can do that.......... .you're being so fucking dramatic actually. this fork becoming dirty after i ate using it is your fault too

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”

[itsokbbygrl]

Just Stay.

- A GN!Reader x Jackson!Joel Miller story

For my wonderful, lovely, kind, hilarious friend, Jo (@morgaussy/@merci-killing), who wants nothing more than to worship that old man. I hope this is to your liking ♡

Tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit content, BODY WORSHIP, slight size difference (reader is described as shorter than Joel), reader is generally able bodied and has hair but is otherwise not described, oral sex (M receiving), heavy petting, lots and lots of kisses, body hair appreciation, domestic fluffy smut, two goobers deeply in love, kink discussion (daddy kink, and per jo's request, "A secret barely there splash of mommy kink"), grief mention, TLOU2 Jackson Era (post-Ellie run away era, pre-snowstorm)

WC: 4.6k

A/N: this is full of lazy writing technique and i am aware! there is POV switching whenever i say so, get in both their brains, die mad about it POV purists :)

Warm water, straight from the tap. Straight from the tap and into the basin where Joel Miller’s aching muscles are learning to relax, still, years after their first reconnaissance with a god’s honest bath. He can’t quite believe it. More than 20 years after the end of the world, where people starve and maim and kill and hunt to survive, there are still hot baths. He takes a deep breath and sighs in relief, letting himself sink lower beneath the surface, only the top of his broad chest and shoulders remaining above in the cool air of the home. He closes his eyes for a moment, soaking. 

The jiggling of the sticky front door knob calls his attention. An alertness solidified in a world consisting only of predators and prey. Kill or be killed. He knows, rationally, he’s safe here. His eyes clock his hunting knife laid safely on the vanity anyway. 

He listens to the familiar sound of your steps, the way you insist on toeing off your boots at the front door, the soft pattering of sock clad feet as they maneuver around the first floor, the creak of the loose floorboard near the kitchen island that he’s been meaning to fix. He can tell just from your movements that you’re hankering for a cup of tea—hearing the cabinet door close softly, always gentle, the ceramic clink of the base of your favorite mug coming into contact with the stone countertop, the metallic clang of the filled teapot as you set it atop the stove. He relaxes further knowing you’re home, safe. 

The water is just turning tepid when he hears the stairs creak, signaling your imminent arrival. He pushes himself back up to greet you, the cooler air causing his wet skin to break out in gooseflesh. He turns his head to find you standing quietly, hip propped against the vanity, warm mug cupped between your palms, eyes trained on him already, his favorite soft grin gracing your lips, plumping your cheeks. 

“Whatcha doin’ there, starlight?” he asks. 

“Just admiring the art,” you respond, raising your mug to your mouth and taking a slurping sip, careful not to burn the fragile skin of your lips and tongue. The response makes him chuckle and flush, blaming the pinkness brought to his chest and neck on the temperature of the water if pressed. 

His starlight. A beacon in the dark, guiding him home. He found you at a time when he thought he’d lost everything. Ellie had run off, and, terrified, he’d run after her. Once she’d been found, she’d confessed how she hated him for the choices he’d made for her, how she didn’t want to be part of his life anymore, and he’d agreed to her terms as long as it meant she’d be safe and home. He’d spent the entire ride back to Jackson fighting off the grief that threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope this time, losing another daughter. At least this time he knew she was alive, could watch from a distance as she grew, could talk to the other townsfolk and get updates on her life, make sure she was ok. 

That was where you came in. You’d been serving at the local watering hole, The Tipsy Bison, when he’d come in for a drink. You’d poured his whiskey neat, just as he’d requested, and quietly left him to his thoughts as you tended to other patrons. He sat quietly, sipping his drink and listening to your conversation. His ears perked up when he heard you mention your students having a hard time with an assignment you’d given recently. He knew everyone in town shared responsibilities, should’ve figured you would have more to offer to Jackson than to only be a bartender. When you came over to check on him, see if he wanted another pour he assumes, he cleared his throat and asked about your other role as a teacher and your entire face lit up as you gushed about your kids. He tried to listen, but found himself lost in the feeling of being a kid again, the awe he felt the first time his dad had taken him and Tommy out to the wide open Texan countryside and shown them how bright the stars could shine. 

He tuned back in when he caught you talking about one student in particular you had connected with—his Ellie. How she was a natural writer, so creative, always scribbling in her journal. Mostly doodles, but over time you described how you’d earned her trust and she’d opened up a little more, shown you some of her poetry, how you’d encouraged her to keep writing. You talked about how she was quiet, shy, kept to herself most of the time, but she had a lot to say on paper. Joel tried to tamp down the proud tears that threatened to well at the news. She was ok. She was going to be ok. 

Joel kept going back and you were always there for him, greeting him by name with a soft smile, pouring his glass of whiskey before he’d even had a chance to take a seat on one of the old wooden barstools. You’d formed an easy friendship and before he knew it, he was inviting you over for dinner. You’d gone a little speechless and he worried he’d overstepped, but then you’d let out a breath you must have been holding and giggled, burying your face in your palms for a second before you found his eyes again and the way they shone for him was nothing short of celestial. You’d agreed, and the rest is history. 

“You wanna get in?” Joel asked, motioning to the tub. 

You shook your head. “Not today. Just want to keep you company if that’s alright.”

“Course that’s alright, sweetheart. Make yourself at home,” he said before going back to relaxing, closing his eyes.

You watched him ease back into contentment in the water before you moved, opening the cabinet below the sink and stealing a couple clean towels. You placed them on the floor next to the tub before kneeling atop them. You took a long drink from your mug of tea before placing it aside. You looked over the products on the tub ledge and grabbed the shampoo. Quietly, you leaned over, laying a soft kiss to Joel’s exposed shoulder before whispering in his ear, “Tip your head back for me.”

He did as instructed, sitting up from the wall, keeping his eyes closed and tipping his head back. You grabbed your mug of tea, draining it before quickly rinsing it in the water, filling it and carefully soaking his sweat damp curls, using your hand to ensure none of the water dripped forward onto his face. You then uncapped the shampoo and squirted a small amount into the palm of your hand. You lathered your hands together, causing the shampoo to begin sudsing, and brought your fingers to his scalp. He hummed in bliss as you began massaging the soap into his tresses, the day’s tension easing from you both as you cared and were cared for in return. 

After a few minutes of gentle ministration, you guided his head back with your fingertip under his chin before rinsing the suds from his locks. You then reached for your bottle of conditioner, something you typically reserved for special occasions, and squirted a dollop into your hand before softly carding it through his hair. You let it sit for a bit, rinsing your hands in the water and allowing yourself a moment to admire the man in front of you. He was remarkably beautiful—strong, broad, sun speckled chest giving way to a softer stomach coated in a fine layer of soft brown hair that drew your eyes southward to where his thick cock laid softly against the crease of his thigh, his legs strong enough to walk or ride for miles. Scars littered his skin and you mentally pressed a kiss to each one as your eyes worked their way back up to his face. His eyes met yours there and he leaned forward, capturing your mouth with his own. He held you in place with his palm in its favorite place, cupped around the side of your jaw, thumb finding its place in the divot next to your ear. He kissed you deeply for a few more moments, pouring all of his affection for you into it. You smiled, effectively breaking the embrace, and left him with a final peck to his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, before maneuvering him once again to rinse the conditioner from his hair. 

Once clean, you helped ease him from beneath the water, wrapping him in one of the towels, now body-warm from where you sat, using the other as a soft barrier between his wet feet and the cold tile floor. He lets you care for him without a word, chest warming as you dry his body and leave sweet kisses in the towel’s wake as you go. He laughs good naturedly when you try to comb his hair back and have trouble reaching, bending down to make the job easier. His heart swells when he sees you grab your precious jar of aloe from the countertop, swiping your fingers through the gooey substance and working it between your palms. 

“Can you sit on the toilet for me, please?” You ask. He plants a kiss on your head and complies, thankful for the warm towel you wrapped him with saving his damp skin from the cold porcelain. You stand between his spread thighs and begin your work, piecing together a clump of curls and twisting them around your finger, effectively applying the gelled aloe before giving the little ringlet a squeeze and moving onto the next piece. Joel sits calmly, loving the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the way you love him so simply. He wonders, as he often does, how he got so lucky to find such goodness in a world gone so rotten. 

You take your time, dipping back into the jar of aloe you harvested earlier that week as needed, ensuring each ringlet receives the care it so deserves. You love doing this for him. You love this man—this man with his reputation for violence, this man with a karmic debt that may never be fully repaid, this man whose hands were made to create, not destroy, who patiently sits with children as he teaches them to play the guitar, who misses his daughters more than anything in the world. Joel Miller, who protects the least of these with his gun and his knife and his bare hands. The same hands that delicately carve in his workshop, drafting some of the most intricate pieces of woodworking you’d ever seen. 

You finish the last curl at the base of his skull, just behind his ear. You give it a little tug and watch as it springs back into shape, smiling at the sight, before leaning down to leave a kiss there…and there and there as you move down the column of his strong neck. You feel his large palms grip your hips and you move your kisses northward, along his jaw, to his mouth where he meets you, urges your mouth open to lick inside and explore. You pursue a deeper physical knowledge of him in return, giving as good as you’re getting, tongue dancing behind his teeth, cataloging every crevice, every bump and ridge, deciphering the taste of him as if he were a fine wine—notes of apple and coffee and his 5pm pour of whiskey and something uniquely him. 

You feel his hands roaming, making their way to the front of your jeans, pushing the button through its hole and tugging down the zipper before stuffing his hand inside. He gives you a few firm strokes over your underwear, just to feel, to be so close, and you allow him to explore for a moment before you break your kiss to rest your forehead against his. 

You shake your head softly when he attempts to move his hand beneath your cotton barrier and he stills his hand. “Not tonight,” you say quietly, “you first,” and you step back before sinking to your heels in front of him, grabbing the towel from in front of the bathtub and placing it under you before kneeling forward and meeting his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, mouth shiny and flushed with arousal, his chest and neck blushed a beautiful pink. You think he’s never more beautiful than when he’s about to get his cock worshiped by your reverential mouth. 

You reach up and gently unfurl the towel from where it’s tucked at his waist, allowing the soft graze of your fingertips to lightly tickle the skin of his stomach, the muscles beneath contracting in their wake. You unwrap him like the gift he is, allowing the towel to open fully, exposing all of him to the room. You take in the sight of him, hard and drooling at the tip, thick thatch of curls nestled at the base, strong thighs parted to cradle you between them. You turn your head to the side and lay a kiss to the inside of his knee, up his thigh, right to the crease of his sensitive groin, before repeating the motion on the other side. You hear him groan and look up to find his head tipped back, already losing himself to his pleasure. You’ll never get over how easy he is for you, how much he clearly loves the way you love him. You repeat your favorite vow to whatever god is listening, to love him forever if they’ll be so gracious. 

You reach up to grip the heavy weight of him in your palm, curling your fingers around him as much as you can, and give him a few gentle strokes, the velvety soft skin warm in your hand. You feel his pulse combine with your own as you glide your thumb along the veiny underside. A fresh drop of precum oozes from the tip and you’d be remiss to let it go untasted, leaning forward to meet the spongy head with the wet warmth of your tongue and lapping at it, thankful for its musky, salty gift. You’re sure at some point you’ve stepped out of your body because everything goes quiet as you taste and taste and taste him, lathing your tongue over and over the weeping head while your hand continues to stroke, kissing the very tip of him gently before trailing your lips along the length of him, down to the base and tonguing back to the top, mirroring your actions on the other side, lifting him to give attention underneath, not wanting to leave even a millimeter of him unfound by your mouth. 

“God, baby, there you go, so good at this,” Joel’s praises bring your head back above water, but all you want to do is drown. And so you do. You flick your eyes up to meet his before opening your mouth wide and allowing the thick length of him inside, sliding him along your textured tongue, and closing your lips around him tightly. You hold him there for a moment, watching his face as you roll your tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking in a stuttered pattern, allowing the pillowy softness of your inner cheeks to hug him briefly, before pulling off and refilling your lungs. His eyes glisten just as yours do. He cups your face in his palm and you turn to kiss him there. He pushes his fingers into your hair and gently scritches at your scalp. You close your eyes and lean into the gesture before returning to prayer at your altar. 

You take him as deep as your jaw will allow over and over, not caring for how messy things are getting as you continue the push and pull, saliva pooling on your tongue and dripping along his length, down the corners of your mouth, off your swollen lips and onto the towel below. You can hear him moaning with abandon now, knowing he’s loving this as much as you do. You tenderly roll his sac between your fingers and he tugs at your hair, so you continue your ministrations as you suck. 

“Shit, baby, gonna make me cum,” he warns. You pull your mouth off him and continue to stroke him with your hand. 

“Cum in my mouth. Please, want to taste you, want to, want to,” you stutter, mind focused solely on him, making him cum, easing him into blissful release. You open wide and take him back inside, closing your eyes and losing yourself to the feeling. You grab his other hand with your own, holding tight to each other as he helps guide your head exactly where he needs you. You suck and suck and suck until he grants you the prize you’ve eagerly anticipated, and he does it so beautifully. The sounds he releases from his throat resonate against the tiled floors and walls of the room, reverberating into your bones. His lashes fan and grace the tops of his cheeks where his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. His pillowy lips part, the plushness marred by his own teeth marks, bitten in an effort to not give too much of himself away too soon. He tastes so deliciously of man—clean, soapy, salty, musky—as he releases onto your tongue, into the back of your throat, and you make every effort to gracefully swallow everything he gives. 

Once he’s finished, you softly suckle the last of your combined fluids from his length, ingesting them to become one together inside you. You leave a parting kiss to his length in thanks for all he’s given you before you allow Joel to haul you up to meet his mouth. He kisses you fiercely, tasting himself there. You know him almost as well as you know yourself, and you know he’s itching to return the favor, but you slow him, softening the kiss until the temperature returns to a simmer. He holds you there against his bareness, one arm keeping your head against his chest while the other strokes your back and you mirror him, fingers running gently all along his back. You feel more than hear when he speaks as it rumbles from his chest. 

“Thank you, darlin’. Love you, more’n I thought was possible,” he says. You sigh and kiss his chest, wrap your arms around him tighter. 

“Feeling’s mutual, my love. I promise,” you assure him, giving him a final squeeze before stepping back, keeping his hands in yours, not wanting to completely break contact with him just yet. “Come with me, we need to get you dressed.”

You lead him by the hand to your shared bedroom and sit him on the edge of the bed. You turn around and find the dresser where you keep a majority of your combined clothes—yours on the left, his on the right—and pull out a well worn tee and pair of grey sweatpants. You bring the clothes back over to him, setting the pants aside for the moment, and unfolding the t-shirt. 

“Arms up, baby,” you instruct. He complies amusedly, raising his arms above his head while you drape him in soft cotton, paying careful attention to the collar, ensuring it’s stretched wide to not disturb his drying curls. Once the shirt is tugged down to cover his soft belly, you move to his pants, scrunching up one leg and feeding his foot through before repeating the motions with the other side. “Stand, please,” you request. He stands, allowing you to tug the waistband up over the swell of his ass, carefully pulling the material over his front to not accidentally overstimulate his now soft cock. You eye him up and down, nodding in approval of your handiwork. “Beautiful,” you say under your breath, not intending for him to hear, just for yourself. 

Joel doesn’t remember the last time he felt this way—so deeply cared for. For as long as he can remember now, he’s been the provider, the protector. He hasn’t had a moment to slow down since before Sarah was born, 30 some odd years ago now. And it feels…nice. He feels small in some ways, but not diminished, never with you. No, he feels almost young again, experiencing this kind of selfless love that he’s only ever experienced before from a parent, and something clicks for him. He sees you near the hamper, changing out of your day clothes and into your own pajamas and he gets you, understands you on a deeper level than he had just hours before. He lets you finish your routine and make your way back over to him, anticipating you getting into bed, but instead he’s met with your hand reaching out for him. He takes it in his own, he’ll always take it when it’s so graciously offered. 

“C’mon, let’s have a snack, worked up an appetite,” you say jovially. He snickers, thinking to himself that he fed you pretty well not 10 minutes ago, but he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if it meant you’d keep smiling at him like that. 

You lead him downstairs to the kitchen and sit him in his chair at the breakfast table he made just for you. While you putter around, preparing the two of you a small meal to share, he thinks about how beautiful you look in the morning light, the early sun catching on your hair and in your eyes. And you, you give the sun a run for its money with how you shine, bright and golden, warming everyone you come into contact with. You make it so easy for him to forget where you all are, when you are. Nothing is simpler than time spent with you. And now he knows you even better and he isn’t sure yet how he’ll quite thank you for that. 

In what feels like just a blink, Joel watches as you plate a simple late evening dinner of eggs and toast for the two of you, an old favorite of Sarah’s, nothing sillier to a child than having breakfast food while the moon sits high in the sky. You bring the plates to the table and sit across from him. He hooks his foot around your ankle as soon as you’re settled. 

“Thank you, sweetpea. You didn’t have to do all this,” Joel tells you as he accepts the proffered fork. 

“I know,” you respond, stabbing a bite of your scramble with your own cutlery, “but I wanted to,” you finish simply, popping the eggs into your mouth with a smile. Joel returns your smile and digs in. 

The two of you quickly polish off your plates, leaving nothing but the crumbs from the bread you’d baked a few days prior behind. Joel moves to clear the table and you allow him to, but join him at the sink, grabbing the dish towel from its place draped over the left half, falling into your regular routine—Joel washes, you dry. 

“You know,” he starts, “I think I understand you even better now, after today.”

You turn to look at him with an amusedly confused face. “In what way?”

“You know how sometimes you ask me to be your “daddy” in bed? I love you and I would do almost anything for you, so I’ve never had a problem with it, and I love how it seems to make you feel, but I didn’t fully understand it before,” he pauses, giving you time to respond if you felt you needed to, and turns to see you’ve paused with plate in hand. He fully turns his body to face you now. “I think I get it now. The way you took care of me tonight? It was…almost parental? But it wasn’t at all at the same time. I think,” he tries again, “I think the only other time in my life I’ve experienced that kind of selfless…devotion, I guess…was from a parent. And obviously you’re not my parent, but…fuck, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” he asks self-consciously, unable to meet your gaze. 

You bring your fingers to his chin, lifting his eyes to meet yours before you speak. “You’re not fucking anything up. You’re right, that’s why I like it, why sometimes I need it. It’s the way you take care of me. You make me feel so incredibly safe, Joel,” you answer him. 

Joel pulls you into his chest, gently rubbing your back. “It makes me so, so happy to hear that, my sweet starlight. Always want you to feel safe, loved, taken care of here.”

Your hands snake up the back of his shirt, needing to feel him closer, flesh on flesh. “The same goes for me, you know? If you ever need, or want…I want you to feel that way, too. I love taking care of you, too.”

Joel leans down and kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of you, wanting to solidify this memory for as long as his mind will allow him to hold it. He considers leaving the dishes in the sink to be tomorrow’s problem, wanting nothing more than to return to bed with you, but he knows he’ll be frustrated when the egg has glued itself to the pan and he has to really scrub to remove it. He reluctantly releases you from his embrace and turns back to the sink, washing the remaining plate before handing it to you to dry, and doing the same with the utensils and the old, salvaged steel pan. 

Once you’re both satisfied with your work, you close down the kitchen in tandem, flicking off the lights and heading back to your room. You move to your respective sides of the bed—Joel going left, you going right—before climbing beneath the old, soft comforter. You’re both wiped from the day’s activities, opting to just turn the lights out rather than do your usual song and dance of reading for five minutes and falling asleep with the book splayed open on your chest, leaving Joel to gently dogear the page and set it on your bedside table before clicking off your lamp in fond exasperation. In the dark, you hear him shuffle, turning towards you. 

“Hey, darlin’?” he asks, getting your attention. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you, umm, would you hold me tonight?”

“Of course I will. C’mere, my sweet boy,” you answer. Joel turns over again and shuffles back, allowing you to snake your arm over his torso and bury your face in his shoulders. He holds your arm in place and it feels…right, so nice and comforting and he gets it. 

“Thank you. For everything. Never known a love like this, but you make it so easy. Not sure how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

“Just stay, Joel,” you answer simply, “stay with me. That’s all I want, all I need.”

And he thinks he can do that. And he sends up his own prayer, his favorite vow, to whatever god is listening, to let him stay with you forever, to let him love you until his dying day, that they owe you that much at least, your simple wish. He’ll do whatever he can to ensure it comes true. And as he drifts into unconsciousness, held safely in your arms, he thinks he never wants to be anywhere else. 

thank you for reading ♡ please reblog or leave a comment if you enjoyed!

[hearts4chriss]

Watch ur mouth.

toxic!chris x fwb!blackfem

prompt: your out at a party with Chris ( wearing top left corner ) and you start to piss him off, flirting with guys, ur tits nearly being exposed already had pissed him off and on top of that ur attitude he apparently didn’t like, so he fixes it for you

ok so this wasn’t requested but she asked for the part where you flirt with a guy so - @buckys-cumdumpster 💋 semi requested

Contains: sub!reader!, rough!dom!chris!, face fucking ( hip thrusting ), car sex, stomach bulge, missionary, overstimulation, creampie, HEAVY degrading, pet names, hair pulling, dacryphilia, cum eating, unprotected sex ( don’t do this !! ), dumification!kink, mentions of safeword ( not actually used ), dirty talk,

lord.

Chris and I had been talking for a bit and he always manages to do some shit to piss me off and yet here I am. Going to a party with him after he just got on my nerves.

Nonetheless, this meant id have “a bad attitude” Chris calls it which already annoyed me so I decided I was gonna fuck with him.

I wore his favourite outfit on me the pants hugged my curves making ass pop out and them being low rise showing my dermal piercings and the fitted jacket made my tits look good as I didn’t zip it up all the way and this outfit would always result in something sexual, fingering or his cock buried inside me butttt I wanted to push his limits too see how far he’d go.

I finished my makeup and spraying water and putting curling products on my hair only zipping up my jacket too my lower boob allowing my tits to sit perfectly guaranteed too drive Chris crazy .

I grabbed my lip gloss and heard chris honking outside and I stepped out and hopped into his car.

Chris's eyes immediately shifted to my exposed chest and shifted his facial expression.

What did I tell you about this outfit? Chris sighed deeply gripping the steering wheel tightly and I smirked too myself already getting a rise out of him

Im wearing it like what is ur problem? I snap back running my fingers in my hair as it curved at my ass guaranteed to drive him insane.

I watch his jaw clench as we ride in silence before pulling up too this party he dragged me too.

I got out the car walking into the party disappearing in the crowd of people leaving Chris with his own thoughts.

The party had been going on for just about an hour and I had been lost in the music and alcohol. Nonetheless I wasn’t drunk but something tells me Chris was not going to be happy.

Playin games by summer walker & Bryson tiller played and immediately I rush too go dance, slowly moving my hips to the song.

this lasted before a guy, who was fairly attractive comes behind me moving my hips with his as I leaned back resting my head on his shoulder.

I look around the room and my eyes lock with Chris’s, he looks like he could explode any second, gripping tightly on his beer.

Chris’s pov

Is she fucking kidding me? I mean come on I’m way better looking than he is and he’s not even doing it right.

I know she’s only doing this to piss me off because of our little argument earlier. But fuck she looks so good

And she knows that my favourite outfit on her, the way it rests on her lower waist allowing her dermal piercings to show and how the pants hugged her curves outlining her ass just how I like. And then the fitted jacket to match- the way her tits rested from how she zipped it I wanted to bury my head in between them and inside of her

I watched how she moved her ass on his crotch and my blood boiled, knowing that’s supposed to be me, she’s mine, only I can touch her and fuck her as good as I do, hence why she’s never left.

Then she locked eyes with me and continued doing what she pleased? This women.

She shouldn’t have done that because she has no idea what I’ll do to her, god it just turned me on thinking of everything I was about to do to her. One thing I knew for sure.

I was gonna tear that ass up.

me clueless I didn’t really pay attention to Chris, I was consumed by alcohol and the sensual loud music filling my ears and shooting through my body.

Until I felt familiar hand, grip my arm.

“Let’s go”. Chris’s voice lingers on my neck pulling me away from the guy who quickly scoffed moving onto to another girl. What an ass

“Chris Chris ur pulling my arm!” I wince as he drags me out the party due to nobody paying attention and to the car pinning me on it with my stomach on the hood.

“You think that shits funny?” He says in almost a mocking tone before leaving a harsh smack too my clothed ass and I let out a yelp.

“Answer me I’m not playing with you.” Chris spoke lowly before repeating that same action.

“Chris okay okay! I’m sorry! I whimper and he chuckles standing me up.

"better, now get in the backseat". He demands and I follow and he climbs in shutting the door.

"I’m sick of ur attitude, you need to learn how to watch ur mouth". He grips my throat and I gag and nod.

"gonna put it to good use". A chuckle falls from his lips as he man spreads unbuckling his belt and I position myself between his legs.

"useless come help me yeah?" Chris rolls his eyes playfully and I sit up my nails clicking with his belt and pulling his pants down with his boxers allowing his hard and thick cock to spring out and hit his stomach.

The tip was a deep pink just oozing with pre cum.

"gonna suck this dick so good yeah?" He says spreads his pre-cum on my lips and I nod before sitting up.

"Nu uh, were doing my way, ur gonna take my dick the way I want". Chris smirks slightly before pulling my hair making my throat take al of him.

"Fuck- love that pretty mouth on me shit-" he groans matching my movements with his aggressive ones as he yanks my hair quickly and roughly not giving me time in between.

The slurping sounds of my mouth and his cock were almost pornographic as tears in my eyes already producing, Chris's moans shooting right to my core pulsating for him to be buried inside me.

"That's right be a good little slut and take it". Chris rests his head on the plush seats gripping my hair as he bites his lip my doe watery eyes meeting his seductive gaze

His hand gripping my hair forcing me to take all of his cock in my throat as a mixture of my salvia and his pre cum coats my lips and dribbles down my chin.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, I wanna watch you- " he groaned as I peered at him through my lashes as he began thrusting his hips purposely as his cock hits the back of my throat making me gag.

"Fuck look at that- sound so much better with my dick in ur slutty mouth huh". Chris lets out a breathy laugh tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched me struggle to take all of him.

Chris would not let up on his hip thrusts making my eyes water more each time as his dick size caused me to hollow my cheeks as he grips my hair tighter so get a quicker orgasm.

"that’s right you wanted to have all this mouth now I’m filling it with my cum-" Chris moans forcing my head all the way down my nose resting on his lower abdomen as his warm load shoots in my throat dribbling down as he lets me up his cum dripping down my mouth.

"Speechless already?" He chuckles wiping his thumb along my bottom lip collecting the excess semen slipping it into my mouth as I sucked it clean.

"Good girl. Now strip." He demanded manspreading as I unzipped my jacket first freeing my tits as I sat up pulling down my leggings revealing my red lace thong, Chris’s favorite

"wearing my favorite pair of panties huh? While grinding on some other guy?" Chris spoke angrily and shakes his head placing me back flat on the car seats.

"You just couldn’t wait to be fucked by me. Isn’t that right sweetheart?" His hand grips my face as he spoke in a coax voice and a whimpered at the sudden grasp.

"yeah you like it when I do this to you? Gripping you up like a whore? Huh?" He squeezed slightly harder and I nodded.

"Yes Chris I love it when you do this to me-" I groan feeling my lips smushed together and he smirked releasing his grip.

He leaned up taking off his jeans and boxers fully and his black hoodie.

He pulls me close gripping my legs pushing them up on his shoulders before slamming into me as I let out a loud moan.

"Shit ma- such a tight fuckin pussy- all for me right?" Chris let out a deep moan as he pushed his hips against the back of my thighs roughly knocking the wind out of my lunges.

"Fuck Chris s-slow down!" I cry out feeling his size burn into my pussy as he didn’t let me adjust the way I wanted, he was pissed.

"oh really? You don’t want this? Maybe I should call the other guy yeah?" He rests his forearm behind my head pressing our bodies together my legs in the air.

"fuck fuck no! I-I only want you!" I whimper as my eyes met his dark lustful blues his jaw clenched at the sight of me.

"good girl, sound so much better on my cock." His breath was on my neck before he positioned my legs back on his shoulders gripping my waist tightly snapping his hips with the back of my thighs abusing my cunt

At the pace he was going I couldn’t even think straight, the way his dick perfectly filled me up and his deep groans filled my ears.

"Oh fuck- Chris ur so fucking deep-" my moan and whimper fuelled his ego more as I was going to be fucked speechless already feeling my vocals fade.

"Look at that- such a fucking whore". Chris muttered gripping my neck allowing his hips to thrust harder as I was now unable to even utter words.

"shit- already? Where’s that attitude gone baby-" Chris gave me fake pout, pure anger and lust in his voice whilst he literally was fucking me speechless.

The position we were in allowed the tip of Chris’s cock to brush on my g-spot making me squeal slightly as the sounds of our skin meshing together fills the car.

"look at you, all dumb acting because of my cock so pathetic baby-" his devilish smirk grows as he watches how fucked out I look all because of his dick

"mmhm f-fuck Chris-" I cry out pathetically babbling as I shudder in his grasp, bound to leave bruises.

I noticed him not speaking and that’s when I noticed him looking down at my stomach seeing his dick poke through each thrust.

"yeah? You feel me in ur stomach? probably like this shit don’t you sweetheart". He mocked pressing a hand on my stomach and I moaned out loudly tears forming in my waterline

"you look so pretty when you cry mama". His expression softened for a second before that dominance took over quickly once more

Chris’s pace didn’t let up and my stomach began to tighten and I swore I was seeing stars, everything was a blur but fuck it felt so good.

"ugh- fuck your gonna cum- shouldn’t let ur slutty ass cum after the shit you pulled-" he says under his breath, a hint of his aggression still lingering as he reaches to rub my clit.

"better start begging baby". Chris looks at me and my eyes widen as I could barely even form words together and his request was way out of proportion.

"Fuck! P-please Chris I-i need to cum-" I whimper taking many breaths between my words hearing him scoff and how he damn near fucked me out of my vocabulary.

"That’s a good girl, cum on my dick baby show me how good I make you feel". That raspy voice of his always made me feel so many thoughts, just enough for that knot in my stomach to burst my cum began to drip down his thick cock still thrusting inside of me making me perk up

"C-Chris sensitive!" I squeal pushing his stomach away and he pins my hands above my head pressing his chest on mine being nose to nose.

"You know the safe word baby, better think fast because I’m not stopping". He breathes heavily onto my lips pressing a deep kiss against them as they swell.

"shit ma- your pussy feels so fuckin good- could stay in it all day-" Chris let out a breathy moan continuing to fuck me senseless as tears streamed down my face from overwhelming pleasure.

"oh god- Chris please-" I shudder putting my hand up and he immediately takes it holding him and he grunts feeling his own orgasm creep up along with a second one for me.

"I know baby your doing so fucking good for me- just one more yeah? He presses a kiss to my neck and I nodded as he rammed into me.

"fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna cum again-" I throw my head back and he didn’t prefer that so he gave me a look and my head shit up again as I gripped his hand tighter and he gave me a smirk.

"I’m not slowing down sweetheart- fuck just one more-" he moaned pressing his body on mine as our noses touched moaning into each other's mouths.

The tension was at an all time high, the car smelled like a sex aroma mixed with his cologne and my Dior perfume and his occasional “fuck” and my cries of his name as his cock twitched inside me of me.

"fuck- look at me I wanna see that pretty face when you cum-" Chris plants a deep kiss on my lips as I maintain eye contact with him feeling that knot in my stomach begin to burst.

"Chris I’m- fuck!" I screamed one final cry of his name before my juices coated his cock and lower stomach as his cum painted my walls.

We sat there for a minute catching our breaths before he spoke again

"You drive me insane baby-" he pants resting his head on my shoulder and I let out a breathy chuckle.

"What can I say-" I smile pushing my hair out of my face and he sits up sliding out of my tight hole making me wince.

"Shit you okay?" I didn’t hurt you did I? Chris scans my body carefully taking in the bruises of his fingers on my waist and neck.

"I’m okay- just tired and sore-" I shudder a bit when I meet his gaze, a soft one.

"When we get home I’ll run you a bath and we can watch a movie or some corny shit-" he let out a chuckle but that alone made me so happy.

I’d really like that. I say to myself but out loud I say

That's sweet- thank you Chris-

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers@gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog@blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo@luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ast3ro1dzz@sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva@braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav@sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris @gamermattsgf @breeloveschris @meetballmatt @waydasims @vicsguitar

[exhaslo]

Ok ok soooo what if you did like a fasion designer y/n and she is helping Miguel redesign his suit then like as she is measuring him or something she notices he is hard and like ✨smut✨

Oh, reader will take the measurements alright. Hopefully they can remember it *wink wink*

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), slow sex, mirror sex

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

"How did this happen?! I specifically remember both of us working on this suit, making it nearly impossible to tear!" You yelled towards a poor, nervous Peter.

"To be fair...It wasn't one of my villains."

"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't know heroes could villain swap! Who the hell did you trade with? The Guardians of the Galaxy?" You scoffed, holding the destroyed suit in your hands.

"Easy, (Y/N), only I can bully them this much." Miguel said as he walked into your office, "You also have to remember, he's new."

"Which is why I helped him with the suit." You hissed lowly and tossed it back to the Peter, "You get to remake it. When done, I want to know who the hell you fought that tore the suit to shreds."

"..."

Peter kept quiet as he slowly made his way out of your office. The silence was more than enough for you to start assuming shit. Inhaling deeply, you walked over to your espresso machine and made both you and Miguel a cup of coffee.

"You know the work you do is above all," Miguel hummed as he took a seat on your couch. You gave him a pout,

"But it's never enough. How am I supposed to be helping you all make suits if they never hold up after a few fights?"

"They're not supposed too," Miguel reassured you, "Only special conditions like my original suit can withstand such events."

"But you won't let me touch the stuff."

"It's unstable for a reason." Miguel said with a heavy sigh and approached you from behind, "But, like everyone else. I need to upgrade my suit."

"Oh? No more blue and red?!" You gasped in shock, then grabbed his hands, "Ohhhhh, does this mean-"

"Yes, I'm letting you help me make a new suit."

You jumped with joy, nearly squealing at the thought of helping Miguel. The man liked to keep his toys to himself. That, and you would finally get a chance to measure him. There was a glint in your eyes as you observed him.

Miguel was a FINE man. Compared to all of the Spiders, he was definitely your type. When Miguel first approached you with the intension of making super hero suits, you nearly drooled at the thought. You loved a challenge.

And Miguel was your new target.

"So, when can I take the measurements?" You asked, handing Miguel a cup of coffee. Miguel raised a brow,

"I can have Lyla send them over-"

"Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to be here for then?" You huffed, giving Miguel a glare.

"Fine. Is tomorrow alright?"

"It's a date."

-------

Miguel was internally screaming as he sat in his office, staring at you on the cameras. The thoughts he had about you. The things you did to him. Miguel had a damn good reason why he never went to you for his suits. You brought out the worst of him.

Even now, the thought of you being up close to him was turning Miguel on. He was going to have to take precautionary measures in order not to lose control.

"Fuck."

--------

Today was the day. You had your morning coffee, your best outfit and your best panties attitude. No one was going to disturb you today. Your office was closed to everyone expect Miguel. This was the chance of a lifetime.

Getting your station and measurements ready, you just smiled from ear to ear. Your notepad was set aside, ready for you to take down Miguel's numbers.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" Miguel asked as he entered. You hurried over and locked the door,

"The chance of a lifetime is mine. Get your ass up on my stage! We begin with your chest!" You cheered. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he took his shirt off,

"At least one of us is enjoying this."

You were giddy with glee as you approached Miguel. Your gaze against his chest as you started to take his measurements. You could not lie, being this close to him was driving you crazy. His cologne smelled so good too.

You hummed quietly to yourself as your fingers stroked his chest. Every now and then you grabbed your pencil and wrote in your small notepad. Moving down to his hips, you kept your focus. Miguel's body was just perfect.

"(Y/N)...Maybe we should take a break," Miguel grunted lowly.

"Not yet," You muttered.

Your hands rested against the rim of his pants, reading the numbers on your measuring tape. Adjusting the tape, you leaned down in front of Miguel and felt your face burn up. His hard erection was right in front of your face.

"Ah-" Your eyes widen and without thinking, "Should I measure this too?"

"If you want," Miguel whispered.

Both of you weren't thinking.

Your fingers gripped Miguel's boxers, slowly pulling them down. Your attention was focused on his large, thick cock. With a gulp, you grabbed your measuring tape and wrapped it around his meaty shaft. A shudder ran down your spine, before you checked the length.

"Is this...proper...length?" You whispered, your fingers wrapped around his dick, "Or should I-"

"You should," Miguel groaned lowly.

You could feel your heartbeat in your panties as you leaned towards Miguel's dick. Your tongue gently swirling around his tip, listening to his low groans and grunts. You glanced at the mirrors all around you, the sight turning you on more.

You were on your knees with Miguel's dick in your mouth. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned forward and started to suck his dick. Your hands resting against his hips as you bobbed your head back and forth. His thick shaft hitting the back of your throat.

Your panties grew damper as you felt Miguel's bitter precum start to go down your throat. His hands gripping onto your hair as he started to move your mouth faster. The sheer length of his dick was starting to burn your throat as you gripped his hips.

"Fuck, hn, (Y/N)!" Miguel hissed.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you tried to touch yourself. Unable to handle the burning sensation anymore, you pulled away from Miguel, panting heavy. Quickly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him.

Miguel was quick to follow as he nearly tore your pants, tossing them across the room. His talons ripping your panties as he started to rub his dick against your wet cunt.

"Hah~ You owe me...new underwear and pants now," You moaned, pressing your body against his. Miguel grunted as he pressed you against one of the mirrors,

"You wanted to take my measurements," He hissed, pressing his thick cock inside you.

"Hn~ Mhm~ Y-You wanted a suit,"

"I still do," Miguel hummed, sitting his dick nice and deep inside your tight velvet walls, "Do you still remember my size?"

"O-Of course!" You huffed, glancing at yourself in the mirror, "Y-You're way too big."

"Haha, but look how well you take me,"

A shiver ran down your spine as Miguel lifted your body closer to his. He spread your legs, allowing you to see his cock deep inside your dripping pussy. The sight alone was making you hot. With a slow thrust, you moaned, nearly shaking in his grip.

"Sucking me in so well," Miguel sucked against your neck as he continued his slow, yet rough thrusts, "This was why I didn't want you to measure me."

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-You should have, mhm~ let me, oh god~" You cried out, feeling yourself about to cum.

"You're right, I should have. Look at how perfect your pussy is sucking my dick in," Miguel grunted.

Turning your face to the mirror in front, you moaned as Miguel slapped his dick back inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you cam, crying out as he kept his slow thrusts. Miguel's hands gripped your breasts, pinching your nipples as he hummed against your ear,

"Do you still remember my measurements?"

"D-Deep~"

You trembled as your pussy fluttered against his dick. Miguel chuckled in response and pressed your body against the mirror, rubbing your clit as he moved even more slowly. You cried, begging for him to go faster.

"Not until you tell me my measurements."

"P-Perfect!" You cried out, moving your own hips, "S-So deep! S-So big ah~"

"Hm, good enough,"

You cried loudly as Miguel's pace finally fasten. His dick slamming against your cervix, causing you to cream and suck his cock more. Your body shaking as your juices started to stain your floor. Miguel grunted as he pulled you closer, reaching his own high.

"Want to watch me fill this pretty little pussy?" Miguel groaned. You nodded,

"Yes!"

Lifting you back up, Miguel held your legs open. His had you staring in the mirror with him, watching your own fucked out expression contort in pleasure. You gasped as Miguel pinched your clit once more, watching you cum against his cock once more.

You cried and leaned back, but Miguel kept your face towards the mirror. You gasped and moaned as he slapped himself once more inside you, filling you with his cum. Both of you took a minute to catch your breathe before Miguel set you down,

"Are you alright? Let me clean you up," Miguel said worriedly. You grabbed his hand,

"I may have forgotten your measurements."

"Oh?" Miguel said with a low chuckle. You glanced up at him, cheeks red with embarassment,

"I think I need a reminder."

"As many times as you need."

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

I'll take his measurements any day. I mean hope you enjoyed!! Haha

[hysteria-things]

Ok so this is a fluff request based off the new podcast eher Matt got cramps and was in pain (sad Ik) so basically after the podcast Matt calls his girlfriend (the reader) and asks his gf to bring some medicine and when she gets there he takes it and he’s still hurting so they cuddle and she’s like “Ik pretty boy I’m sorry try to go to sleep” and pretty/sweet boy kink basically thanks!

BACK PAIN

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦��𝐫𝐲: there’s been this sharp pain in matt’s lower back during the podcast. however, you come to the rescue once they’re done recording.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, pain

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did not mean for this to take so long anon but i hope you like it!

bottles of different varieties of medications stare back at you. you’re at the drug store, scanning the shelf to find some ibuprofen or something.

matt’s been texting you ever since they started recording the new cut the camera podcast video. he’s been saying that his lower back is killing him, and he asked you to pick up some painkillers.

you scan a bottle before officially making it your final choice along with a tube of icy hot just in case, and you walk to the self-checkout to pay for it.

before you head back to their house, you stop at mcdonald’s to pick up some food for him. it won’t help with the pain, but you’re sure it’ll make his mood better.

don’t worry, you didn’t forget about the other two. you got them fries.

it’s not a far drive back to the triplets. you park outside of their house, grab all of the belongings from your trip, and lock the car doors.

you make your way to the front door and open it, walking up the stairs into their living room/kitchen. nick and chris are there at the island, grinning once they see you. “hey, y/n.” chris greets, his eyes immediately shooting down to the mcdonald’s bag.

“hi, guys.” you take your shoes off and shuffle over to them. “don’t worry. i got you something, too.”

they gasp once you pull out the french fries, taking them from your hand. “thank you, future sister-in-law.” nick starts, nudging his head toward the hallway. “i hope you can fix him.”

you shrug. “that’s the plan.”

sighing, you walk down the hall and knock at matt’s door as you’re opening it slightly. “can i come in?”

“yeah,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door. you pout, seeing him practically curled up under the blankets. the only light in the room is the TV with spongebob portrayed on it.

you sit next to him on the bed, firstly unpacking the food. “i don’t know if you’re hungry, but i got you a ten-piece with a root beer.” you say, placing it on the nightstand.

then, you reach into the medicine bag. you open the ibuprofen and take two out, placing them on the plastic lid of the drink. “take those.” you turn your head to look at his face, and he’s already staring at you in awe.

he loves you so much.

five spongebob episodes later, you can tell he’s still jittery by the way he keeps shuffling beside you. he’s eaten a little, but not as much. “is the ibuprofen helping?”

“no.” he says annoyed. “it still hurts and i don’t fucking know why.”

“i know, i’m sorry, handsome. sit up,” you demand, and he’s hesitant before doing so.

he sighs. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to sound like that. i’m just annoyed that i don’t know what’s wrong.”

you smile softly, kissing his shoulder. “it’s okay. you probably pulled something.”

lifting his shirt, he groans when he raises his arms for you to take it off. he doesn’t question you, though.

you press down on the spot he told you that hurts, and his muscles tense at the suddenness. you can feel the knot.

“jesus, matt.” you move your thumbs over the spot. “you’re tight right here.”

you continue to rub with your palm and fingers, massaging the area to loosen it up a bit. his head falls, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

you take the icy hot and put some on your hand, rubbing it onto his back. “this should help.” you say, leaning him back so you can hold him. his head rests on your chest. “it’ll be like a heating pad and ease the pain.”

“thank you.” he whispers. “you should be a doctor.”

you laugh, kissing his head. “try to go to sleep, pretty boy. the stress won’t help with the pain, either.”

he hums, nuzzling more into you until you hear soft snores moments later.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs

[seattlesellie]

this is a request by: @sadeyedsugar !! i posted but deleted bc i wasn’t satisfied w it so i re-wrote it <333

warnings: smut, dom!abby, sub!reader, size kink, abbys kind of a perv, reader is described as small but it only means smaller than abby in height n weaker than her <3 not proofread!

authors note: why the fuck do i constantly find myself writing about the wlf gym. its like i live there.

you and abby started dating exactly 3 weeks ago. 3 weeks ago, abby decided to finally ask you out. she was practically pining over you since the moment she met you. your innocent smiles made her heart melt, and every time she saw you look at her it made her physically ache. she couldnt handle it anymore, which is how she found herself banging on your bedroom door at 11pm with a random bouquet of flowers to ask if maybe, possibly, youd agree to go out with her.

since that day, you practically followed abby around everywhere. this is exactly why you found yourself here, in the wlf gym, watching your now girlfriend, lifting an impossibly heavy amount of weights. for some reason, every harsh groan, every moan that escaped her throat, made your heart beat faster. abby and you kissed, sure.

shed kissed you on your second date, while you were cuddled up in her bed after watching a movie, facing her. you were having a conversation about her past. shed told you all about her father, about the void it left in her. your genuine intrigue killed her, made her heart so soft for you. she pushed a hair strand away from you face, and just asked; “can i… kiss you?” that question made you flush so hard you could feel the heat burning in your ears. all you could respond with was a small “mmhm”, and next thing, her sweet mouth was on yours. it was sweet, and warm, like a butterfly landing on your lips. so tender and so innocent, until it wasnt. without even being aware of it, you brought your hand to lightly tug at abbys shirt. just a small tug. that tug, resulted in abby letting out a shaky breath, deepening the kiss for just a moment and then abruptly stopping. you slowly opened your eyes, and noticed how her pupils were dilated, her strong chest rising up and down. “whyd you stop?” you asked in your sweet voice, the voice that made abby’s heart flutter and fist tighten.

“because…” she responded, followed by a deep sigh. “lets just sleep, ok?” she commanded, and you did.

from then on, that was your routine. slow, innocent sweet kiss on the bridge of turning into something more, and abby shutting it off. you didnt understand why. what was she so afraid of? it was just kissing, wasnt it? sure, sometimes youd push your chest into hers, making her breathing get heavier, but that was it, right? what would be so bad about a little kiss turning into a longer one? its not like youd hurt her, not like shed hurt you, right?

“good job, abs” you cheered at your girlfriend, watching her lift.

“mmph- thanks” she breathed deeply, flashing you a triumphant smile.

“how heavy is it?” you asked, curiously examining the weights.

“why? wanna try?” she responded, satisfied with herself, obviously giddy about impressing her girlfriend.

you hesitantly walked over to face the giant weight, examining it with a panicked look that made abby huff a giggle.

you slowly bent down, put your delicate hands on the weight, and tried lifting it up. the thing is, it didnt even move. not even a flinch. “mhhhhp” you groaned, with furrowed brows. how the fuck did she manage to do that? abby was eyeing you up and down, hands crossed over her chest with a cocky smile on her face, as she watched your failed attempts. “let me help you, okay?” she commanded, and you nodded while wiping a small drop of sweat from your forehead. abby stood behind you, her light breaths caressing your neck. “that is not how you dress for the gym, by the way” she snickered. “whats wrong with how im dressed?” you were wearing a jean skirt, and a bright pink sports bra. is that not gym attire? its a sports bra, you thought.

“c’mon” she sighed, “hands on the weight” she demanded. you quickly bent down again, and abby followed you, bending down with you, putting her hands above yours, wrapping them completely up. having your hands practically fully covered by hers, sent a shiver down her spine. fuck, would that be how youd look like with her above you, deep inside, big hands holding onto yours, forcing them onto the bed? would you squeeze your hand into hers while begging her for more? focus, abby, she thought to herself. shes not ready, not yet. youd ruin her.

with the strength of abbys arms, she lifted up the weight, your hands wrapped around it. you thought the weight lifting distribution was about 20%/80%. you were wrong. it was probably around 1%/99%.

“oh my god!” you giggled with excitement. “look at me!” abby laughed in your ear “thats my strong girl” she said proudly, grunting into you, making you squeal.

her strong girl. those words made you tingle and your stomach feel like its getting swarmed by actual butterflies.

“now, bend over again slowly for me okay?” she said in your ear. you slowly pulled the weights down, following her instructions. “thats it, good girl” she said gently, her voice so soft and assuring. what if she saw your breath hitch? what if she noticed how your pupils grow every time she mutters those words? what if she’d know, exactly what she was doing to you. “you good?” she asked, making you snap out of your trance.

“yeah!” you assured her. “totally fine”. “okay…” she snickered, and got back to lifting yet another weight. you shifted from one leg to the other while watching her, leaving her to lock her gaze onto you. “think im gonna do some yoga” you exclaimed.

“you do yoga?” she smirked slightly, sharp short breaths escaping her mouth as she lifts the weight up and down, up and down.

“nope” you responded, popping the p. “but i can try, right? i mean- maybe id get as strong as you?” those words made her smile, and respond “wouldnt want to hurt yourself though, yeah? go easy” in her commanding voice. if abby told you to jump off of a roof, you probably would. especially when she talked to you like that. like you were her delicate little thing.

you grabbed the beat down yoga mat from a pile of gym equipment, and laid it gently on the floor. the mat was hot pink, complimenting your bra, making it almost seem as if you matched with it on purpose. as abby lifted her weights, she couldnt stop examining you. looking at you. noticing how your short skirt hiked up slightly as you bent down, how your white underwear teased her just a little, “look at what you want abby- never gonna get it” she felt as if your body was talking to her, mocking her. every curve of your figure inviting her in, and her brain, pushing her away. she wanted to give in - wanted to give in so bad. but you were so sweet, so kind. she was terrified of what shed do to you if she snapped. terrified of the bruises shed leave, the marks shed burn into you. what if you couldn’t handle it? what if she was too rough? what if she just couldnt go slow with you? she wanted to break you, wanted to keep you whole, wanted to make you scream and cry and pant and beg, and then she wanted you to tell her you loved her, that shes your everything, that youre hers. what if once she touched you, corrupted you, youd hate her? she couldnt handle that.

her body was sweating, and it wasnt the weights that made her react way. it wasnt the rushes of endorphins running through her veins, it was you.

she was full on gawking now, like a fucking pervert. her weights were dropped a long ago, as soon as she noticed your body bending down in front of her, hitting the ground with a thud. “fuck” she mumbled to herself. her jaw was hanging open slightly, hands curled in fists, heart pumping in and out of her chest.

you spread your legs open, following the instructions of an sports old magazine you had found laying around outside the base one day. you were whimpering, desperately trying to put your legs in the right place, hands were they supposed to. were you meant to curl your head this way? shit- was your left leg supposed to be entangled with the right one or were you completely off - looking like a disheveled barbie doll.

“ughhh” you let out a sigh of frustration. “cant get it right!” you scoffed, and shoved the magazine away.

abby was gone. did you speak? she had no idea. all she could think of was the way your thigh jiggled and how your chest heaved up and down, nipples perked up through the beat down old sports bra.

“abby” you moaned, “abby help” you sighed and begged.

“abs!”

she snapped, quickly adverting her gaze away to look at the wall. if you werent so distracted, she thought maybe you would have called her a perv, you would have been disgusted by how her eyes didnt meet yours even once - gaze just glued on to your body.

“yeah?” she responded, wiping her sweat from her hand on her top.

“need help” you drawled.

she walked towards you hesitantly. do i get close? she though. what would happen then?

“look at this” you badgered, picking up the magazine, pointing at a picture of a lady with her head underneath her leg.

“how the hell am i supposed to do that?” you questioned, looking at abbys puzzled face.

you bent down to a form a triangle shape, abby by your side.

“can you stand behind me?” you begged.

her eyebrows raised slightly, questioning you.

she walked slowly, and stood directly behind you. it was killing her. she clenched her fist, short nails scratching her palms, leaving sharp marks.

“how am i supposed to put my arm over there?” you said, and accidentally backed up against abby, your ass slightly bumping her crotch. abbys breath hitched.

“j- just…”

her face was hot. she felt like she couldnt breathe, couldnt even swallow properly, all choked up.

she couldnt control herself anymore. it was like something overcame her, possessed her. she firmly put her hands on your waist, and jerked your body to slam her crotch, for just a second. she wanted to feel you, just like that, just for a monent. god, she needed that release so so bad. she was so good with you, so strict, stern. she managed herself. she was nice, respectful, she tried not to stare if your top was cut too low. always kept her composure, even when you whined her name in a way that made her see the devil, even when you were sleeping, and the urge to pull your pants down, for just a second, just a little bit, was so strong it made her hands grow clammy, she didnt. she was good. until she wasnt.

“abby? what are you doing?” you asked, feeling your own heartbeat speeding up.

“just… stay like that… yeah?” she panted, pulled and pushed your waist to make your ass meet her crotch deeper, harder this time.

“abs…” you gaped. you were in shock - what was she doing? why did your heart beat faster and why did your cunt start tickling? you let out a shaky breath, one that abby heard. one that signaled to her that this time - there was no controlling. not anymore.

“oh god…” she murmured, massaging your ass slowly while bumping her crotch into it.

“you know what you fucking do to me?” she grunted, her voice an octave higher than her usual, desparate. did you even know?

the scene was borderline obscene - you on your knees with your head hanging from your neck like a rag doll, abby behind you with her crotch buried in your cheeks, begging to be swallowed.

“abs- it feels- ah” you moaned. you couldnt control your body anymore, which is why you dropped quickly down to your knees, collapsing on the mat.

abby followed quickly, laying on top of you, crushing you with her weight, practically covering you whole.

she was panting over you, grinding down on your ass, begging herself for mercy.

“didnt fucking wanna do it like this” she whimpered between short breaths.

“fucking wanted to take it fucking slow with you” she grunts, when she feels you slightly arch your back for her. did you want this as much as her? is she fucking stupid?

“abby-“ you squealed, moans muffled by the mattress on the floor.

she grinded herself more harshly now, almost entirely losing herself on top of you.

“feels-“ you whimpered against the floor.

“tell me” she demanded.

“feels g- feels good, a a abby” the way her crotch was grinding into you made your clit bump into the mat, separated only by the thin material of your panties, skirt hitched up burning your stomach.

“fuuuck” she muttered, feeling herself clench at your words. she couldnt believe this was happening. the amount of times she pictured you like this, pictured you a panting mess, your pussy glistening- begging for her strap, her fingers, her tongue. she would lay awake at night with her fingers buried deep inside, fists clenched, just imagining you bouncing up and down screaming her name. after shed come, shed curse herself for it. punish herself for being so fucking unhinged.

“abby- need to see you” you cried out from beneath her. she softened for a second, breaking out of her grunts.

she lifted herself off, and carefully backed away, positioning herself to sit, hands supporting her from behind. as soon as she saw your face, your glistening eyes, the realization hit her. she was about to fuck you like an animal on the floor - you, her girlfriend, her sweet, innocent girlfriend. the same one she brought those flowers for, same one shed kill for, she was gonna ruin you.

“oh shit” she breathed, and her eyes became frantic, almost begging you for forgiveness with just her look. she couldnt hurt you.

you tried steadying your breaths, eyes glued on to the floor. you felt ashamed. ashamed of how much you liked it, ashamed of the wet spot that formed on your panties.

“im so fucking sorry” she pleaded, quickly placing her hand on your cheek, barely even grazing it, barely caressing, almost afraid to touch you again.

“for what?” you questioned, holding her palm. why was she the one apologizing to you?

“i couldnt control myself” she retreated, placing her forehead on yours.

“dont” you simply stated.

“dont control yourself”

as it it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“what?” she scoffed. she looked baffled. what were you saying? was she hallucinating?

“im saying you dont have to… im saying- i want to.” you couldnt quite put it in a sentence, a normal, coherent one. but you knew, you absolutely knew you needed to feel it again. needed her closer, needed her inside.

“c’mere” she almost moaned, and your body was hers.

[pascallllllll1]

Dizzy Spells

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Word count: 1K+

Description: Pedro being the caring and loving boyfriend he is forces reader to get looked at after experiencing dizziness and fainting.

Warnings: Mentions use of IV’s/needles and unplanned pregnancy. Age gap relationship (very legal)

Pssst!

“Hey! Don’t play with that!” Hissed your overbearing boyfriend who currently resides at your bedside while reaching to stop you from fidgeting with the tape holding the IV in place. You’ve never been a needle person, your parents always scheduling appointments with your family doctor growing up for vaccinations and shots to save you the embarrassment of having a melt down in front of school nurses through the years. Now coming into young adulthood needles continue to make you very nervous, but you're not a blubbering baby that needs to be held down anymore. Some might call that growth. Right now you’re just thankful to whatever higher power is out there that Pedro won’t have to witness hysterical sobbing caused by a tiny needle, all because you’ve been light headed lately and may have fainted a few times. Which leads you to now, where you lay attached to an IV keeping you hydrated while reclined in the stiff bed, your boyfriend of only 5 months by your side stressing over every little thing while waiting for the doctor to come back with test results from your blood work.

“I’m sorry! It’s just really itchy. I wanna go home babe, I really don’t see why we had to come there’s nothing to worry about! It’s probably low iron or something.” Whining you poke out your bottom lip and look up at Pedro with big doe eyes and rest the side of your cheek on his broad shoulder. With a deep sigh Pedro opens his mouth to begin his speech on how it’s better to be safe than sorry and how he cares about you taking care of yourself when two short knocks come from outside the waiting room door. You're quickly repositioning yourself and begin sitting up eager to get this over with and calling out whomever was waiting on the other side of the door to come in. A tall busty woman walks in, clipboard and files in hand looking about Pedro’s age if not older, she looks over to you both when crossing the space to the end of the bed and does a double take when looking to Pedro then back to yourself. You can hear the hesitation in her voice before she asks,

“So who have you brought in with you for support today… Y/N?” She glances down at the now open file to double check your name before her eyes meet yours again waiting for an answer. Nervous, you look to your left hoping for Pedro to speak up for you. Suddenly realising how the question may have come across to you the doctor clarifies her meaning.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your results have come back and due to the nature of them I wanted to confirm you wanted him in the room to hear or if you’d like privacy and for him to step out a moment.”

“The nature of them?” Speaks up Pedro worriedly, concern deeply etched across his face. The doctor looks to you for confirmation that you’d like him to stay. Your mind is spiralling out of control with ideas of what’s wrong with you, what could possibly be going on inside your body, and already searching for ways to solve these hypothetical scenarios reeking havoc in your head. Needing Pedro now more than ever for moral support and comfort you nod to the woman to continue on with the test results.

“Ok. First and foremost I’d like to make it clear that you are healthy and nothing is wrong with you.”

Pedro exhales shakily at the new information and pulls you against his chest with his left arm around you, he kisses the side of your head and takes a moment to breathe you.

You look up to the doctor and ask,

“So what's going on with me then? How come I’ve been so dizzy and fainting?”

“Because you’re pregnant, about 3 weeks along.” Your body tenses up when you feel Pedro quickly release you from his embrace and shoot up out of the bed towards the doctor. The sound of a file opening and paper being hastily sorted through fills your ears. This is way too early in the relationship to be happening. Does he want a family with you? To marry you? A future? Does he see you as his end game? For crying out loud you weren’t even together publicly yet- HIS FANS! How would they react? Would they hate you over such a large age gap? Would they hate you for taking him off the market? Would they hate you for trapping him with a baby? Would he still have a career or would his fans drop him because of who he’s with? You couldn’t live with messing up his life. His dreams and achievements he’d worked so hard for. A large familiar hand pulls you out of the black storm of doubt and back to the present moment. The other comes up to cup the side of your cheek and trace a delicate thumb over your trembling bottom lip. Shifting your focus to the man now kneeling on the bed in front of you, your eyes are met with tearful brown ones staring back at you, undeniably full of love and childlike amazement.

“Baby,” Pedro pauses and takes a moment to clear his throat and sniffle,

“I will support ANY decision you make, and YES this is all 100% your decision to make,” closing his eyes as his voice breaks Pedro exhales loudly and wipes at his eyes before his hands resume to their previous spots.

“But I want to make it so very clear baby, I will stay by your side and support you and our child, I love you Y/N. I want our family if you’re willing to give it to me.” Looking at the man across from you now, there’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s the partner you want to have in life. You and him. Seeing the love he has for you, for your unborn baby who you’d literally just learned about triumphs any previous worries you’d had initially. He’s your person and your his, together you’ll share the most special experience two people can share, raising a child.

“Our family.” You whimper out.

“Our family.” Pedro confirms wrapping you up tight in his arms.

Thank you for reading!! I’m still learning and figuring this all out so any comments are more than welcome! I’d also like to mention that yes I’m writing about Pedro Pascal himself but I’d like to make it clear this is all pretend and a fake fantasy. In no way do any of us know who he really is as a person and this isn’t me trying to make him something he isn’t just sharing my personal daydream fake scenarios with y’all! Hope you enjoyed:)

[mooki3-bear]

Who wants the drama (babydaddy!Chris sturniolo x black!fem!reader

Summary: A look into the morning with Chris as the father of your child

Warnings: None

“Chris, what are you doing here so early? It’s not your week,” you say as you open the door in nothing but a bonnet, plaid pajama pants, and a fresh love sweatshirt, to see your daughter's father.

“Why do I need an excuse to come and see my favorite girls” He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. As you push his face away with an eye roll you hear your three-year-old running around the corner. 

“Hi Babygirl” Chris exclaims as your daughter, Isa, runs into his arms. “You spending the night” your sweet, curly-haired, girl asks him.

“No, I'm sorry honey! Mommy doesn’t let me do the anymore” With that comment, you hit him on the arm as you make your way into the kitchen.

You and Chris decided to co-parent a year ago after a particularly bad falling out about how each of you wanted to raise Isa. You also just had different goals in life that just didn’t meet each other's so you decided to call it quits and just live separately. Besides all of the disagreements, you both still find a way to get along and raise a beautiful little girl.

Chris follows you into the kitchen with Isa in his arms. As he sets her at the table for breakfast he notices a big bouquet lying on the counter.  “Where’d you get these from, Trader Joe’s,” he says with a giggle.

“No, you fool. I got them from…someone”  You say, putting eggs on your daughter's plate. 

Chris’s smile instantly falls from his face as you look at the big smile that just appeared on yours. “What do you mean? Like, you went on a date with someone” he says as he circles the counter to stand next to you. 

“Why do I have to go on a date to get flowers? Maybe he gave them to me just for fun”

“He? What the hell do you mean he”

“Chris! Don’t curse in front of my child” You whisper, waving a spatula in his face. You both turn to see Isa staring at you both, eggs stuffed in her mouth.

You both mentally agree to go into the guest room to argue while she finishes eating.

“What’s his name”

“None of your business Christopher”

“Does Isa know about him?” he said, crossing his arms with furrowed eyebrows.

“No Chris! I went on one date with him and I'm not just gonna let her around anybody” Chris lets out a sigh as he sits himself on the bed.

“It’s been a year man. I need to get some too”

“What makes you think I'm getting anything” You quirk your eyebrow at the boy as he sits up on the bed.

“I'm serious y/n! I haven’t been with anyone since we broke up” he explains as he walks closer. He looks deeply into your eyes, waiting for a response from you. You by instinct put your hand on his arms as you lean in closer to him, inches away from his face.

“Aww…that sounds like a huge you issue” With that being said, you walk away to go get Isa ready for daycare.

After what felt like an hour, Chris follows you to meet you in the kitchen.

“I can take her today,” He says as he notices you packing the rest of Isa’s lunch. “You don’t have to do that Chris,” You say as you put the glittery lunch box into her purple backpack.

“Of course I can! I didn’t get my license for nothing” he states, standing proudly.

You roll your eyes as you shove her backpack into his hands, before bending down to tie Isa’s shoes.

“Have a good day princess! Make sure daddy walks you in ok” Isa nods her head as she gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“Aw damn, I forgot something,” Chris says as he pretends to look around.

“What is it” Before you can say anything else Chris sneakily gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing Isa and running out the door, the little girl giggling in his arms.

You yell Chris's name with a giggle before running behind him to see him putting Isa snug in her car seat.

Watching him, you couldn't help but think that there is no one else you would rather have to be your baby daddy.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?” 

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.” 

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.” 

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.” 

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.” 

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.” 

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”  

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.” 

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.” 

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.” 

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”  

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars. 

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking. 

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.  

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.” 

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf. 

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.” 

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?” 

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”  

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”   

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl. 

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?” 

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.” 

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”   

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough… 

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby. 

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. 

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point. 

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?” 

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”  

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.” 

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment. 

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.” 

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me. 

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?” 

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?” 

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?” 

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?” 

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though. 

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.” 

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.” 

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?” 

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?” 

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?” 

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his? 

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.” 

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.” 

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.” 

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show. 

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.” 

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could. 

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.  

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.” 

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.” 

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.” 

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?” 

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.” 

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.” 

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.”  Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” 

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.” 

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat. 

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me. 

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.” 

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.” 

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?” 

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.” 

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.” 

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.” 

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.” 

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.” 

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.” 

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.” 

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.   

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off. 

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.   

 Dieter’s POV 

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day? 

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days. 

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home. 

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.  

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.    

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!” 

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored. 

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming. 

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing. 

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple. 

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first. 

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.” 

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.” 

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…” 

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure. 

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.   

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.”  I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.” 

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?” 

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.” 

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?” 

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.” 

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.  

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?” 

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.” 

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position. 

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.” 

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting. 

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”    

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances. 

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble. 

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”   

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?” 

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming. 

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.” 

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face. 

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission. 

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.” 

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?” 

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.” 

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”  

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok... 

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime  @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @pedrostories

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

[mvltisstuff]

Heyy, i love your fics so michh, can u make Buck x reader, they have a newborn girl and reader is stressed because the baby won't stop crying and buck helps her. Take your time!💋

close to you - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif

a/n: this is such a great idea, and i’m so happy you asked me to execute it <3 madeline is also inspired by the name maddie, as i feel like that’s so cute for buck :((

madeline was a gift from the moment y/n took time off work because of her pregnancy. she was a gift the moment they decided on a name. she was a gift the moment she entered the world in the small hospital room.

however, y/n despised herself for thinking part of it was a curse. she loved her daughter more than anything in the world despite the short amount of weeks that she had arrived. buck had gone back to work, but y/n needed more time to recover from the birth. she got the pleasure of staying home with her baby, and she genuinely thought so.

it wasn’t until the constant screams came through madeline’s mouth that y/n started to get more and more tensed. her head was pounding, her body was sore and she just wanted to give her baby peace.

she felt like the worst mother in the world, not being able to comfort or secure her baby girl. she figured it would come naturally. in reality, it’s never been harder.

she cried when she was hungry, needed a diaper change, sleepy, or she just cried. it seemed like it was always that she just cried and screamed. it burned in y/n’s ear painfully as she listened to the squeals of her daughter. she just wanted her to be happy, and buck wasn’t there to help.

“mad, please.” y/n begged when her eyes started to water again, and the quiet squeaks left her baby’s soft cheeks. “i’m so sorry, i want to help you.”

y/n sighed as she rocked the baby in her arms, the bags under her eyes only getting darker as she stayed up with madeline. buck was exhausted when he came home, so he just went to sleep. y/n was fine with that as he did everything he could for his girls, all the time.

she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss buck every hour.

he had some type of paternal magic to him that eased madeline. it brought her down to earth, and it gave y/n time to relax. her hormones were all over to place. every time her baby cried, it flooded her body was sadness and exhaustion. she was deeply jealous of buck secretly because of the ease he seemed to have with handling their child.

“hey, dad,” hen smiled, seeing buck walk back into the station after a few weeks with his wife and baby alone. “how’s y/n and the baby?”

“they’re good, i feel so bad leaving them though.”

“it’s hard to leave, that’s the last thing i wanted to do when we first got denny.”

“it’s just- i talk to you about anything, right?”

“of course, buck! what makes you say that, though.”

“madeline cries a lot, and i can just tell in y/n’s face that somethings wrong. i mean, i get that babies cry, but it just seems like it’s taking a huge toll on y/n. i don’t want her thinking she’s a bad mom, and if what happened to maddie happens to her,” buck thinks back to his sister, who went to hell and back trying to be a better mom for jee-yun. it breaks his heart to even consider y/n feeling left in the dark the same way. “i can’t handle that.”

“listen, buck,” hen lands a hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be ok. you could even go for a little longer off work, you came back really soon.”

“y/n said it’d be good for us, and make me happier.”

“but is it making things easier? you both need to be doing this together. y/n’s saying a lot of stuff she doesn’t mean, and her mind is running at a 100 miles an hour.”

“i know,” buck says. “i’m gonna see her after the shift, i’ll talk to bobby. see what i can do.”

y/n continued to pace around the kitchen for hours, her lower back beginning to ache and her ears hurting from the wails of the baby in her arms. she tried everything from feeding her to rocking her in her swing, but nothing seemed to stop the cries of her daughter.

“madeline, please, i’m begging you,” y/n whines, practically on her knees for her child to stop crying.

the cries quickly started to blend in, y/n realizing that they’ll never go away. she wasn’t sick or anything, y/n repeatedly checked, but madeline still was just simply unhappy. and, y/n swore she was the problem.

buck arrived home late in the night, hours past dinner and inching closer to the bedtime of their casual family. when he opened the door, he just knew that y/n was in there with their baby, struggling to hang on and fix the problem.

“y/n?” he calls out, wandering around their home and finally landing in the nursery. the light purple walls and decorations were darkened, y/n and madeline sitting in the chair together. y/n’s shirt had been pulled down so she was able to feed madeline, but it seemed like no use. the baby in her arms was still weeping and throwing her tiny hands around. “oh, y/n.”

her blank expression told it all, along with the dark bags under her eyes. “she’s so upset, buck, i don’t know what to do.” y/n murmurs slightly over the cries of the baby.

“it’s ok, honey, we’re gonna figure it out.” y/n’s eyes just water with each tear that drops from madeline’s eyes. “no, no, it’s okay, y/n.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just so tired.”

“i know, i’m here now. we can fix this, okay?” y/n swipes under her eyes, taking in sharp breaths and trying to steady herself. “hey, honey, listen to me. you’re ok, madeline’s ok, i’m ok. we’ll be alright.

she nods as his arm touches her side, the baby wrapped in his other arm. “alright. why don’t you hold her, and i’m gonna go see if our noise machine is here yet.”

buck rustles through packages and gifts from their baby shower and tries to find anything that might help their girl sleep, and anything that will bring relief to y/n.

“i found it! it’ll be white noise, which we should’ve tried sooner. i don’t know if it’ll work, but it won’t hurt to try.”

buck allowed y/n to place the baby in her crib, letting her tiny body rest against the soft mattress. they turned the lights off and plugged in the machine, which sang out the staticky white noise that calmed their daughter.

her crying started to come to a halt after a bit of hearing the noise, her adorable little eyes shutting after a bit to finally rest. y/n could feel her whole body relax under seeing her baby finally sleep, as it had felt like days.

she felt like crying, she felt like sleeping, but she also felt like she had so much to do. the house was a mess, her baby had finally gotten to sleep, but she also wanted to sleep. it felt like one thing after another, and buck looked over again to see a y/n staring at the ground.

“what’s the matter? talk to me, y/n.”

“i’m not cut out for this,” her shaky voice comes out, his hands on the sides of her arms.

“what? of course you are!”

“i can barely manage to keep this house together, let alone keep our baby happy and i haven’t even been able to go back to work! i feel like shit and i just want to be happy with my baby, but i don’t even know if she’s happy and-“

“alright, i know,” she allows herself to fall into bucks grasp, as he worries silently for her in his mind. he can feel the exhaustion venting off her body, begging for sleep and somewhere to lay in peace and quiet. “i don’t want you worrying about anything else. let’s go to sleep, and i’m gonna help you, i promise. i’m never leaving either of your sides.”

his arms warmly grasp her body clad in a soft set. he leads her to their shared bed, pulling the blankets out and holding her as she finally gets her deserved sleep.

[beestriker015]

Nejire x shy male s/o

S/o is a member of class 1-A and met Nejire when she and the other two members of the Big Three visited his class.

Nejire, being the sweet and bubbly girl she is, immediately introduced herself to s/o.

“Hi! I’m Nejire Hado from class 3-A! What’s your name?”

“I-I’m s/o…”

He said timidly as Nejire smiled brightly at him.

“Nice to meet you s/o! What’s your quirk? I bet it’s super cool? Can you show it to me? Please? Pretty please?”

Poor s/o is overwhelmed by the blue haired girl’s bombardment of questions, but is lucky saved by his close friend Eijiro Kirishima.

“Eease up on him a little Nejire, my buddy s/o is kinda shy and you might be scaring him.”

“Oh so he’s just like Tamaki?”

She says out loud to herself before turning to s/o with an apologetic smile that makes him blush a little.

“Sorry about that s/o, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I-it’s ok. T-thank you…Nejire.”

He looks at his upperclassman with a small smile that she finds absolutely adorable.”

From that moment onward, s/o and Nejire began interacting more and more before they eventually became friends.

Being friends with Nejire obviously means s/o is also friends with Mirio and Tamaki as well, the latter of whom he’s especially close to since they’re both shy guys.

Very soon after forming her friendship with s/o, Nejire became determined to help him with his shyness.

“It may take some time, but I know I can definitely break that shell of yours s/o!”

“Y-you really think so Nejire?”

“Yep! Just look at Tamaki! He was a lot shyer before he met me and Mirio than he is now. Yeah he’s still shy, but progress is still progress! I know I can do the same for you s/o!”

True to Nejire’s word, s/o started to open up more as time passed, which he was quite grateful for.

“I appreciate you helping me Nejire, it means a lot.”

He tells her without stuttering even once.

“Aww, you’re welcome s/o! That’s what friends are for!”

Friends

That single word caused Nejire’s smile to fade for a brief moment after it left her mouth.

Why? Because at some point in their friendship, Nejire developed feelings for s/o.

The f word didn’t just affect her however, as s/o had an unexpected reaction to it as well.

“Y-yeah…friends.”

S/o says with disappointment in his voice as Nejire looks at him strangely.

“Everything ok s/o?”

She asks him while tilting her head cutely as s/o lets out a small sigh and looks at her with a slight tinge of red on his cheeks.

“…..Nejire, I have something to get off my chest. Throughout our time together, I….k-kinda caught……feelings for you. I like you Nejire…a lot more than just a friend.”

After the initial shock from s/o’s confession wears off, Nejire smiles widely and glomps him into a tight hug.

“I feel the same way s/o! I love you!”

S/o blushes deeply as he melts into her embrace.

“I l-love you too Nejire.”

And thus, the two began dating.

Now that they’re boyfriend and girlfriend, s/o and Nejire are practically connected at the hip, spending whatever time they can together.

Upon learning of Nejire and s/o’s newfound relationship, Mirio and Tamaki are happy for their friends and congratulate them.

“You two make a good couple! Don’t you agree Tamaki?”

“Y-yeah, I’m r-really happy for both of you.”

“Aww! Thanks so much you guys! That’s really sweet of you two to say! Don’t you agree s/o?”

Nejire exclaims as s/o simply smiles and gives the two a thumbs up, much to Tamaki’s appreciation for his equally shy friend.

Being extremely extroverted, Nejire has no problem being affectionate with her boyfriend in public.

S/o however, is still shy and turns into a blushing mess when Nejire kisses or hugs him.

Texts between the two are almost nonstop, sometimes to the annoyance of others.

“Nejire, we’re supposed to be studying. I know you love him, but can you go five minutes without texting your boyfriend please?”

A classmate of hers says as Nejire types away on her phone.

“Hmm? Sorry, I was texting s/o. What were you saying?”

She looks up at her classmate as he shakes his head.

“….nothing, I knew picking you as a study partner was a bad idea.”

He grumbles to himself as Nejire continues texting s/o.

Despite being in different classes, Nejire has a tendency to make surprise visits to s/o’s class from time to time.

“We’re in the middle of something Nejire, go back to your own class.”

Aizawa says with a tone of pure boredom.

“Sorry Mr. Aizawa, I just wanted to check on my cuddlebug! I’ll go now. Bye cuddlebug, I love you!”

Nejire leaves after blowing s/o a kiss, his face red from embarrassment as a few of his classmates tease him about the cute nickname his girlfriend gave him.

“Cuddlebug huh?”

Kirishima asks his friend, but not in a teasing way.

“Y-you’re not gonna laugh at me too?”

“That wouldn’t be very manly of me now would it? I’m really glad you found yourself a girlfriend s/o, don’t let the others get you down.”

S/o looks at Kirishima and smiles.

“You’re a great friend Eijiro.”

They fist bump each other before shifting their attention back to today’s lesson.

When it comes to Nejire’s hero work, poor Ryukyu has to listen to the girl ramble on and on about how amazing her boyfriend is.

“From the way you speak of him, s/o sounds like quite a nice young man Nejire.”

The dragon hero says as Nejire looks at her and nods rapidly.

“He is! S/o is the best boyfriend ever Ryuko! He’s kind, handsome, and his shyness is just so cute! Maybe I could introduce you to him at some point?”

“Perhaps we can pay him a visit after patrol?”

Nejire gets excited at this as Ryukyu smiles, happy that the girl she views as a little sister found someone she cares so much about.

Whatever hero s/o interns under will receive constant calls from Ryukyu passing along messages from Nejire to her boyfriend.

“Ryukyu just called me s/o. She wanted me to tell you that Nejire-Chan says she loves you so much and that I need to keep her ‘cuddlebug’ safe and sound while we’re out on patrol today.”

He/she says with a chuckle as s/o can’t help but crack a small smile at his girlfriend’s message.

“You two love each other a lot don’t you s/o?”

“Uh-huh, she means a lot to me sir/ma’am.”

The pro hero smiles in response as he/her and s/o get back to patrolling for villainous activity.

If s/o ever got seriously hurt, nothing could prevent Nejire from staying right by her boyfriend’s side until he fully recovers.

“Miss Hado, visiting hours are almost over. You can come back first thing in the morning to see him.”

“No! I refuse to leave my cuddlebug alone all night! I’m staying right here with him.”

After a little persuasion from Ryukyu, the doctor eventually relents and allows Nejire to stay in s/o’s room with him for the night.

Once he’s back in good health, s/o is shocked to learn from Nejire’s friends some time later what she did while he was out of commission.

“Y-you were there the entire time I was in the hospital Nejire?”

He asks as she nods with a gentle smile on her face.

“Of course. My cuddlebug was injured and unconscious, so I absolutely could not leave until I knew he’d be ok.”

S/o smiles at his girlfriend as a few happy tears trickle down his face before he hugs her affectionately.

“I have the best girlfriend in the whole world. Thank you for everything Nejire. I love you so so much.”

With a slight blush, Nejire returns s/o’s hug and rests her head on his shoulder for a few moments before pulling away.

“I love you too s/o.”

She kisses him as they cuddle on his bed while watching a movie, a look of pure adoration is seen in Nejire’s eyes as she softly strokes the hair of her shy boyfriend until he falls asleep in her lap.

“Aww, I put him to sleep. Well then, sweet dreams my cuddlebug.”

Nejire whispers softly to s/o before closing her eyes and going to sleep as well.

[lemonandlime22]

Hello! May I request bitey!child! reader with the housewarrdens and they find out why reder is like that.

Also love your scenarios! Just make sure to drink water and get enough reast!

Riddle & Leona find out the reason for the bitey child!Yuu's biteynes [pt 1]

Warning(s):

Word count: 1k

A/N: Aww tysm! I'm glad you like them! You too hun! I hope you enjoy it. I was originally planning on doing them all at once but I just got too excited to share it so here is pt 1, and I'll post the rest soon.

[Bitey child!Yuu Masterlist]

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

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has hated your biting from the beginning, and has wholeheartedly believed that you were just a miss behaving child

and no matter how fond of you he begrudgingly gets. he will always believe that

but that 'always' got cut short around the end of B4 and the beginning of B5 right after winter brake.

Riddle was in his room unpacking his things, he had just gotten back from winter brake and was ready to jump straight back into work. But he didn't, he was going to give himself the day to prepare and destress from the brake. He had spoken to his mother about his life and how she raised him, but he didn't want to think about that now, he was just going to unpack, get all his books in order, maybe he get have one of Trey baked goods he brought back-

*BANG**BANG**BANG*

Riddle jumped at the bagging coming from his door but quickly composed himself and answered it. Before he could begin to lecture the person about how to properly knock of someone's door, the Heartslabyul student just shoved Yuu in between themself and the Housewarden. Yuu didn't waste a second before the hugged onto Riddles lags.

"Watch your child!" Was all they said before quickly leaving to avoid that inevitable lecture Riddle was shocked but quickly snapped out of it and led them to his bed.

He took a deep breath before he started talking, "Ok. What did you do? Did bite them?" His stern voice did nothing to shake Yuu, they had grown used to it at this point. Yuu simply nodded their head with a smile before climbing onto his bed. Riddle felt his face grow redder with frustration. He had tried for months to get them to stop this violent behavior, but it never worked.

No matter what he did it never changed.

No matter how many collars he put on them.

Or how many lectures he gave them.

They. Never. Stopped.

His patience was running incredibly thin.

Riddle breathed in slowly then back out at the same speed, trying to do those breathing exercises Cater had shown to him. He didn't want to get too mad at them, but it was getting increasingly hard not to. As They sat there, happily laying on the covers, Riddle started to pace, both trying to calm down and think of any more possible ways of stopping them.

Then it hit him, why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Riddle stopped in his tracks and slowly walked back to his bed.

"Yuu, may I ask you a question?" Riddle pulled them up so they were sitting upright and facing him.

Yuu just hummed in acknowledgment. Riddle sighed and continued, "Where did you learn to bite people? Did anyone teach you too? Or did you perhaps see someone else do it?"

"Huh...?" They tilted their head, not understanding what Riddle was asking "What...?"

He breathed in deeply again and pushed the frustration back down. "I mean... You bite people, that is not good. I want to help you change that, but first I need you to tell me where you saw it, or who taught you to do it."

"Oh... I dunno... I just do, I don't want 'em to hurt me i guess..."

Riddle's breath hitched and his heart started to race, his mind instantly went to the worst-case scenario. Did someone hurt Yuu so badly and so frequently that they had to bite and make it a habit??

"What- What happened!?"

After hearing your story, Riddle breathed a sigh of relief

what you went through was horrible

but at the very least it wasn't as terrible as the things he was imagining.

After this he becomes far more patient and soft with you, and he works with Grim to help you feel safe

he also checks up on you far more often throughout the day.

Riddle feels quite idiotic now that he looks back on it, for not figuring out sooner who you have bitten,

I mean, now that he thought about the people you had bitten, most either fit the typical intimidating person or just gave off a bad feeling.

He made you stay the night at Heartslabyul that day, and it also became more often for him to invite you over as well

he just wants to reinforce the knowledge that you are safe.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona never cared all that much for you, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't find you amusing, like when you try to help out Ruggie with making/bringing him his lunch, doing his laundry,

or when he finds you had cuddled up into his side while he was napping, even when you'd play with his tail while you thought he was asleep.

He never cared about why you'd bite people, just as long as you kept being funny and biting others and not him

but he did end up finding out why, not through you, but through Cheka, just a couple days before winter break.

"Unca! Unca!!" Leona groaned and turned over at the sound of his young nephew, who was running towards him in the botanical garden. Cheka was meant to be with Yuu at Ramshackle right now, so Leona assumed that you two were coming to bother him. But when the footsteps got closer he noticed there was only one pair and turning over, and sure enough, there was only Cheka coming his way. It was strange, the two of you were never far from one another when Cheka came to visit.

"What'd you want Cheka" He grumbled and closed his eyes again, instantly shutting down that ever so small carious, and maybe even worried feeling. "It's Yuu!" Cheka said trying to catch his breath "They need to come with us back home next break!". Leona groaned again, this was far from the first time the little lion had demanded Yuu stay with them. "Why this time?" Leona lazily replied, deciding to entertain the young boy so he leaves faster. "So they won't be alone anymore." The look on Cheka's face was pure determination, and Leona already knew it was going to be a pain to try and deter him. "I already told you, they won't be alone, they've got the Grim and the ghosts." The grumpy lion turned back over, his back now facing his nephew.

Cheka huffed and plopped onto his uncle's side "That's not what I mean!" "Then what do you mean?" Leona replied in a bored tone, already regretting his choice of staying awake. "I mean they should live with us!"

Leona nearly chocked on his own spit at his nephews words. Yuu? live in the same building as him?? For who knows how long??? AGAIN!?!? He'd rather actually choke then that ever happening. "And why the hell would they need to live with us?? They already live in Ramshackle."

"But they disserve an actual home for once! Please Unca! Please!" Cheka slid down his uncles side to the front of him and showed off the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Those words confused Leona, what exactly did Cheka mean by 'Actual home for once'? "...No. They already have a home." He huffed and closed his eyes once more. "Besides, Crowley's going to send them back to their actual home soon enough."

"What?!?" Cheka shot up "No! They can't go back! They'll be alone with those mean store people again!" The small boy claimed up up onto Leona's side once more and started to shake the man as best his small arms could. "Come on Unca! You gotta stop him from sending them back! you gotta!!"

Cheka continued to scream and shake his uncle until he had enough, he sat up and garbed the boy to sit in front of him. "Ok- ok- oK! Why in the great seven can't they go back!?"

Leona had expected Cheka to say that he would miss them or smth like that

not your entire life story.

In all honestly he doesn't know how to feel

but he does understand your reasoning and why you and Ruggie get along so much.

He never confronts you about this and doesn't change the way acts around you

except he is just slightly more gentle with you if you squint.

Oh and he just told Cheka to talk to his Dad about you staying with them.

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

[serenelystrange]

At ao3 or under the cut!

“Didn’t know you were switching careers, Diaz,” Chim says, tossing an orange in the air as he settles into his seat at the station kitchen table across from Eddie.

Beside him, already deep into her coffee and what looks like a sprawling text conversation with Karen, Hen stifles a laugh but keeps her eyes firmly on the phone.

“What are you talking about, Han?” Eddie asks, with an exaggerated drawl on the name.

“You’ve got nothing to say about this…situation?” Chimney asks Buck instead of answering Eddie.

He gestures to the furry brown caterpillar of a mustache sitting above Eddie’s mouth and raises his eyebrows at Buck expectantly.

Buck doesn’t take the bait for once and just gives Chim a shrug and Eddie a fond little smile.

“He likes it,” Buck says, “that’s good enough for me.”

Chim sighs, deeply offended as usual by the two idiots and their obliviousness in front of him.

“But do you like it?” Chim asks, raising a hand as Eddie starts to speak, “not you, Magnum P.I. I wanna hear from Buck.”

Hen chokes on her coffee laughing at that, but resolutely pretends she still isn’t paying attention as her thumbs relay the whole thing to Karen in real time.

Eddie rolls his eyes at Chim but turns in his chair to face Buck fully and give him his full attention.

“What do you think, Buck?” Eddie asks. “I won’t be offended, I swear. Does it look dumb?”

“You’d never look dumb, Eds,” Buck says immediately, blushing pink at Eddie’s pleased expression.

Eddie smiles but still stares at him, waiting.

“It’s not my favorite look of yours,” Buck admits after a moment, cringing slightly. “But it’s your face and you can do what you want with it! And you still look ho..umm, good. It looks good.”

“What was that word you tripped over, there, Buck?” Hen asks, devious smirk on her face and all plans of nonchalance gone. “Started with an h?”

Buck groans and drops his head down onto his folded arms on the tables. Eddie reaches out and pats his head consolingly, snickering.

Buck mumbles something and thuds his forehead againt his hands in emphasis.

“What was that?” Eddie asks, teasingly.

“I said,” Buck sighs, sitting up again and glaring at Eddie and then Hen and Chim in turn. “He knows he’s hot, whatever. You all suck.”

Hen and Eddie burst into giggles at that, but Chim just tilts his head and gives Buck an assessing look.

“I mean, technically, at a table of two straight guys, a lesbian, and well… you. Only one of us is statistically likely to su…”

He’s cut off by the sound of the alarm, but that doesn’t stop Hen from smacking him in the chest as they get up.

“Too close to homophobic?” Chim asks, ducking away from the playful swat Buck aims for his head.

“Toeing the line,” Hen says, laughing. “Don’t make Buck tell Maddie you’re being mean to her little brother.”

“She will kick your ass,” Buck agrees, grinning proudly.

“But what a way to go!” Chim says, dreamily.

“You’re all insane, do you know that?”

The group turn to see Ravi, already dressed and leaning against the truck waiting for the rest of them.

“Have you been here the whole time??” Chim asks.

Ravi just grins and shrugs mysteriously, before rounding the truck to hop in, leaving them to scramble in his wake.

“You doing ok there?” Buck asks a twenty-something guy who they had to rescue from an apartment complex after a perfect storm of shoddy wiring and burst pipes had set it ablaze.

Hen and Chim are dealing with the more serious medical cases, and Buck and Eddie are making the rounds of mild smoke inhalation and mild escape injuries.

“I’m alright,” the guy says, following the flashlight with his eyes as instructed. He’s sitting on the sidewalk, long legs tucked up against himself awkwardly as he looks around at the scene. “Do you know if everyone got out ok? The lady across the hall from me is pretty old, I didn’t see her in the crowd.”

“Mrs. Ramirez?” Eddie asks, dropping down into a crouch beside Buck and into the conversation. The guy nods and Eddie gives him a reassuring grin. “She’s going to be fine, I helped her out myself. They have her getting some oxygen and going to the hospital to get checked out, just in case.”

“Oh good,” the guy says, suddenly looking redder than he did a moment ago, even with the heat of the fire still in the air. “Thank you, fireman…”

“Diaz,” Eddie says, looking at the change in his skin with concern. “Eddie is fine. Here, you should drink some water.”

“Whatever you say, fireman Diaz,” the guy says, taking the uncapped bottle and drinking dutifully.

“Good job,” Eddie says, eyes growing wide again in alarm as the guy chokes on his water suddenly.

“Oh my god,” Buck whispers under his breath beside him.

“We still have a bunch of people to check over,” Buck says kindly, redirecting the guy’s attention for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

The guy shakes his head, and looks between the two of them with an assessing gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, “thank you, both. Now I need to figure out how to break it to my boyfriend that our home is pretty much gone.”

Buck cringes and gives the guy a sympathetic look.

“Good luck, man,” Eddie says, clapping the guy’s shoulder as he stands, tugging Buck up with him by his jacket.

He watches the two insanely hot firefighters go, wondering when the LAFD started recruiting straight from his gay teenage fantasies, and drinks the rest of the water in one thirsty gulp.

Buck finds Eddie only two aisles away from where he’d left him in the grocery store, a confused but pleasant enough expression on his face. He’s standing in front of the endless display of cereal, and speaking with a short but muscled man wearing basketball shorts and a tight white tank top.

“Buck!” Eddie calls out when he sees Buck heading down the aisle. He’s still smiling but the closer Buck gets, the more he can see the tightness around Eddie’s eyes and the strain in that smile.

“Forget which cereal Chris likes again?” he asks, moving over to stand beside Eddie and giving the stranger a sharp grin. “Made a friend?”

The man, to his credit, just looks over at Buck like he’s suddenly won the lottery.

“Jake,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake Buck’s briefly.

He’s attractive, Buck supposes, objectively, but his poor straight best friend is obviously not interested.

“Buck,” he says, and then tilts his head, “and Eddie, if he didn’t get that far yet.”

“Thank god for you,” Eddie says to Buck, easily, “you always remember the cereals. All these colorful boxes look the same to me.” Eddie pauses and tilts his head slightly at Buck in question, and Buck nods, not sure what he’s asking, but agreeing to go with it immediately.

“For our kid,” Eddie says to the stranger, gesturing to the aisle. “teenagers, you know?”

To Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s reluctant amusement, Jake lights up further at that. “Oh, you’re dads! I have a little girl, she’s almost eight.”

He pulls out his phone and shows them his lockscreen picture of a petite girl with long red hair and a wide grin. “This is my Cece. She’s a terror, and I love her so much.”

Buck watches with continued amusement as Eddie cracks, going from warily guarded to absolutely engaged.

“Oh my god, they’re terrible sometimes, right?” Eddie asks, pulling out his own phone and flipping to an older photo of Chris and Buck from one of their many zoo trips and showing Jake. “I miss him being this little and agreeable.”

“Mine can still be placated with ice cream,” Jake says, laughing. “Most days, anyway.”

“Chris is more into video games and cash these days,” Buck adds, since they’re all friends now, apparently. “But he’s still my favorite little buddy.”

“Always,” Eddie says, brushing their shoulders together for a moment and giving Buck a sappy smile.

Jake watches them and gives a wistful little sigh as he puts his phone away and finally chooses a cereal from the shelves.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, swaying the grocery basket awkwardly in his hands. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping.”

“You too, man,” Eddie says, much more relaxed than when Buck had spotted him. “Maybe we’ll see you on the court sometime.”

Jake nods pleasantly and hightails it the hell out of there. Hot committed dads way out of his league are too much for him to deal with sober.

“Nice guy,” Eddie says, staring over at the shelves again with his hands on his hips. “But I really do need you to pick out Chris’ cereal. It was.. definitely a red box, I think.”

“You’re useless,” Buck says, teasingly, reaching over Eddie’s head and grabbing the cereal in the very blue box that Chris loves. “But anything for our kid, I guess.”

“Oh shut up,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “You know I panic when people hit on me.”

“At least I know it’s just you and not a homophobic thing,” Buck agrees, laughing, “you’re even worse with women.”

Eddie punches him on the shoulder for that, immediately following it up with the soothing rub of his thumb against the spot.

“You are the worst, Burr,” he says, taking off with the grocery cart, leaving Buck in the aisle, shaking his head.

“I never should have let you watch Hamilton!”

“I’ve got a dirty chai and an Americano for Buck!”

Eddie looks up from his phone and hurries towards the barista at the counter.

“Buck’s in the bathroom line,” he explains, taking the drinks from the harried looking man. “I’ll take them, the Americano is mine anyway.”

The barista looks at him finally and gives him elevator eyes followed by a smirk.

“Whatever you say, sexy Gomez Addams. Have a great day. Don’t be a stranger.”

He spins away to work on the never-ending stack of orders and Eddie is left feeling oddly wrong-footed.

He relays the conversation to Buck when he finally returns from the bathroom and they walk back towards the station. “Should I be offended by that?” he asks, wryly. “Was that racist?”

“Hmm,” Buck says, consideringly. “Could’ve been,” he allows, before shrugging. “But he probably just thought you and your mustache were hot. There are worse comparisons.”

Eddie shrugs and sips his drink, nodding. If Buck isn’t bothered, he figures he has nothing to worry about.

 “You look like Ned Flanders,” Chris says to him one night, as Eddie is carefully shaving his face around the mustache. “A half-Mexican Ned Flanders.”

He’s leaning against the jam of the open bathroom door, watching Eddie shave with an aggrieved look. Eddie is torn between annoyance at the teasing and a pang of yearning for when Chris was younger and would pretend to shave alongside him.

“Just wait until you grow facial hair, Mijo,” Eddie says as he finishes up. “You might like a mustache.”

“I was thinking more of a goatee,” Chris muses. “You think it’ll be blonde or brown when it finally does grow?”

Eddie shrugs and turns around, leaning back against the sink and giving Chris a contemplative look.

“Not sure,” he says. “My mom’s dad had blonde hair his whole life, and your mom’s family has all shades of colors. Might even end up with a reddish beard, like your hair was in the sun when you were really little.”

“Like Buck’s?” Chris asks, looking delighted at the prospect.

Eddie smiles softly, loving when Chris lets his excitement for anything actually show.

“Yeah,” he says, “Buck’s does get kinda red in the sun, huh? It might be just like that.”

“That’d be cool,” Chris says, before tucking his crutches back under his arms and heading off to do whatever it is that the cool kids do these days.

“What’s the story, Geraldo?” Chim asks as Eddie joins him at the grill in Bobby and Athena’s backyard, waiting for Bobby to load their plates up with burgers.

“Who?” Eddie asks, sighing with resigned amusement. “I assume he has a mustache, but I don’t know the name.”

“Geraldo Rivera,” Chim says, looking at Eddie incredulously. “The journalist? No?”

Eddie just shakes his head and shrugs. “Before my time, I guess.”

Chim shares a look with Bobby and then raises his eyes towards the sky.

“Freaking millennials.”

Eddie is still laughing as he walks away with his burgers, leaving Chim to lament all the problems with is generation to Bobby as the other man cooks.

“Got you a burger,” he says to Buck as he sits down next to him at one of the picnic tables in the spacious yard.

“Perfect,” Buck says, “cuz I got you a beer.”

“Fuck yeah, teamwork!” Eddie says, grabbing one of the bottles of beer from Buck’s hand and clinking it against the other.

“And yet nobody offers to get me anything,” Ravi says, materializing across from them at the table with a full plate and a cold water-bottle in his hand.

“You already have food?” Buck asks with a puzzled look.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Ravi says, smirking, “not that you two would notice anything outside of your little bubble anyway. Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here?”

Buck looks over at Eddie for the answer, but he just shrugs. “I literally just got here.”

“The whole time,” Ravi finishes. “I’ve been sitting here the whole time. And Buck didn’t register anything around him until you showed up. I’m just saying.”

“I was thinking about the food!” Buck defends. “Can’t blame a man for being hungry.”

“More thirsty, I think,” Ravi says, sunnily. “Oh look, Hen and Karen are here. I’m gonna go talk to the other reasonable Queers in the group. You two have fun.”

“I..” Eddie says, watching Ravi with befuddlement as he walks away.

“He’s not even queer!” Buck nearly shouts after Ravi, gesturing to Eddie.

The rest of the group, all too used to Buck’s antics, don’t even look their way.

They eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening idly to the old Motown music Athena has playing, and the cackles of laughter from the kids running around.

“I think I might be, actually,” Eddie says quietly, when they’re done eating and are just messing around on their phones beside each other.

“Might be what?” Buck asks, putting his latest Wikipedia research spiral down and giving Eddie an inquisitive look. “Still hungry? I’m sure Bobby made plenty.”

“No,” Eddie says, feeling unbearably fond of the man beside him. “I think I might be, you know.. not straight.”

“Oh!” Buck says, eyes wide with surprise. “I mean, that’s cool, obviously! Just surprised me.”

“You and me both,” Eddie laughs wryly, taking a long sip of his beer. “But yeah, I don’t think I’m as straight as I thought I was.”

“Welcome to the club,” Buck says, so genuinely that it doesn’t even make Eddie cringe as he laughs.

“Thanks, man,” he says, a wave of relief flashing through him. “Don’t say anything to the team yet though, ok? I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

“Of course,” Buck says, seriously. “They’ll support you no matter what, you know that. But it’s up to you when you want to say anything.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, dismayed to feel his eyes stinging with relieved tears at the whole thing.

“Please don’t cry,” Buck whispers in alarm. “They’ll ask questions, and you know I’m no good under pressure!”

It’s enough to set Eddie off into laughter, which gives him a handy enough excuse when some of the tears do end up falling down his face.

Buck just grins, as if that was the plan all along. Eddie decides to let him take the win.

“You know,” Eddie says one night in September as he and Buck are meal-prepping for the week before he needs to pick Chris up from the movies, “Not one mom hit on me at the new school year Open House.”

Buck snorts and continues clicking the plastic containers shut and stacking them in their daily piles.

“And?” he asks, “you hate when they do that.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “you know I don’t get it. I’m just some guy. But still, it was weird to suddenly be practically ignored.”

“Practically?” Buck asks, reading between Eddie’s lines easily from the years of experience.

“A few of the dads got pretty friendly,” Eddie says, bashfully. “Did you know Alex and Devon split up last year?”

Buck nods, humming. “The LGBTea group-chat talked about it for like a month.”

“Why haven’t you added me to that, anyway?” Eddie asks, “I know I’m new this whole gay thing, but I’ve been Chris’ dad the whole time.”

Buck just gives him a look and raises one eyebrow.

Eddie sighs. “Because I hate group chats and get overwhelmed by all the notifications.”

“There you go,” Buck says, cheerily. “You know I pass along anything important. I can add you if you actually want to be in it, though.”

“God, no,” Eddie says, blanching. “Forget I said anything.”

Buck smirks and scoops up the containers in both hands, tilting his head to gesture for Eddie to open the fridge. He does, and then leans back against the kitchen counter as Buck closes the door and turns around.

“So was it Alex or Devon who hit on you?” Buck asks.

“Um,” Eddie says, flushing. “Both, I guess? Kind of.”

“Oh?” Buck asks with interest.

“I guess they’re still pretty…friendly.” Eddie says. “Asked if I wanted to join them for hot yoga one night.”

“Well I mean, lots of people do yoga,” Buck says, “doesn’t necessarily mean..”

“Then Alex said they don’t do yoga,” Eddie continues. “And Devon said something about learning new positions anyway, and I ran away.”

“Only you, I swear,” Buck says, cackling with laughter. “Can I be so honest with you for a minute?”

“Always,” Eddie says, even though he’s pretty sure he’s going to regret it.

“You ever think about why you’ve had an increase of men hitting on you the last few months?” Buck asks, and Eddie just shrugs in confusion.

“Figured I just started noticing more,” he says. “Has it actually been more?”

“Definitely,” Buck says. “Pretty sure it’s because of Eddie Mercury there.” He points at the mustache on Eddie’s face and Eddie swats at his hand.

“Don’t name my facial hair,” he huffs.

“It was too easy,” Buck says, unrepentant. “And I say this with all the love in the world, but it makes you look like… easily 50% gayer than before.”

Eddie frowns. “Is that bad?”

“Not at all!” Buck reassures. “And obviously there is no one way to look queer, or straight, or whatever. But it’s just kind of a stereotypically gay look. So maybe the guys just thought they had a chance.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, thinking about it. “That’s cool, I guess. I mean, I think I was kind of hoping to be seen, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Thank you and also fuck you Frank for the therapy.”

“It worked out alright, I think,” Buck says, smiling. “You’re way happier these days.”

“You know,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “I really am.”

His phone alarm goes off a moment later, and he shakes his head.

“You ever feel like our lives are just one alarm after another?”

“Not when I’m with..” Buck stutters over his words and changes course, “not when I’m here.”

Eddie, hearing all too well what Buck hadn’t finished saying, just grins.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “me, too.”

“You want to talk about it?” Eddie asks, a few nights before Halloween, when Buck lets himself in the house and drops down in a slump on the couch.

Buck shakes his head, but Eddie waits patiently, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of him, ignoring the fact that he’s told Chris a million times not to do that very thing. He looks down at the floor, their long legs making so they only have room if they’re practically tangled together. His socked feet hook around Buck’s bare ones, and Eddie wonders idly how much of a rush Buck must have been in to leave if he’d done so without regard to his always-cold feet.

He looks up as Buck speaks, and swallows a lump of anger in his throat as he takes in Buck’s bloodshot eyes.

“Turns out,” Buck says, sounding more tired than anything. “It’s not just girlfriends who leave. I guess I really am just too needy.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, reaching out a hand to grab one of Buck’s before he realizes what he is doing, diverting at the last second to grasp Buck’s wrist instead. He rubs his thumb against Buck’s racing pulse soothingly. “You aren’t.”

Buck scoffs, more at himself than anything, and tries to pull away, but Eddie tightens his grip, and taking a breath, pulls Buck’s hand closer, wrapping it in both of his and resting it on his knees.

“Buck,” he repeats, softly. “I could go on for hours about how you care about everyone else’s needs more than your own, and how you would do anything for the people you love, and how any partner who leaves you is a goddamn fucking idiot. Hours.”

Buck sucks in a breath at that, and finally meets Eddie’s steady gaze.

“Hours?” he says, voice cracking as he fights off fresh tears.

“Hours,” Eddie confirms. “I will make you a checklist of examples if you need it.”

Buck gives him a sad little smile. “I do like checklists.”

Eddie squeezes the hand in his. “I’ll even get you one of those expensive markers they use at Chris’ school, the ones that somehow don’t bleed into the paper.”

Buck laughs at that, and gives Eddie a teary-eyed look. “Can I maybe just have a hug, instead?”

Eddie is releasing Buck’s hand and holding out his arms before he even realizes it, and is surprised when Buck just slides to his knees from the couch and folds himself down into them. He wraps him up tightly, rubbing his back and letting him cry it out.

“I would’ve come to you, doofus,” he says, “you didn’t need to kneel on the floor.”

Buck’s wide shoulders shrug under Eddie’s arms, and Eddie just squeezes him tighter.

“It’s ok,” he says, quietly. “This is good, too.”

Buck takes a shuddering breath and lets it loose, relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever, and agrees.

“You know,” Ravi says in greeting, “I’m really disappointed you shaved the stache right before Halloween. You would’ve made a killer Freddie Mercury.”

Eddie, dressed in long costume robes, grins and pulls out the surprisingly quality Lightsaber that Buck had given him. “Maybe,” he allows. “But how cool is this?”

The sword hums just like movies and glows vivid green even under golden light of early evening, and Ravi nods in appreciation.

“That is pretty cool,” he agrees.

Eddie grins, then collapses it back down and tucks it into the pocket of his robes, trying to figure out what Ravi is supposed to be without having to ask.

“Ravi!” Buck says, bounding over with two cups of unidentified liquor balanced in one big hand. “Love the costume! Thriller, right?”

“Hee-hee,” Ravi deadpans, and Eddie damn near drops the cup Buck just handed him with his laughter.

“Don’t be spilling drinks on my grass, boys!” Athena yells from somewhere in the yard, causing all three of them to look around furtively.

“Eagle eyes!” Buck whispers, before grinning again. “Did Eddie show you the Lightsaber? Mine is red!”

“Didn’t take you for a Sith lord,” Ravi says.

“I could be a Sith lord if I wanted to be,” Buck says, pouting.

“How many of these cups did you have before coming over here?” Eddie asks, laughing.

“Just the one,” Buck huffs, playfully. “I don’t need to be drunk to be offended.”

“The purple one was sold out,” Eddie explains to Ravi, who nods.

“That makes more sense,” he says. “Oh look,” he says, searching the yard, “Maddie’s Princess Leia. I’m gonna go say hi.”

“That’s General Organa to you!” Buck calls out after him, “put some respect on her name!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says as Ravi walks away.

“We respect women in this household, Edmundo,” Buck says, poking Eddie once in the cheek in emphasis.

“We are literally in a backyard,” Eddie says, just to be pedantic. “And also, we have different households.”

“Well, we respect women in this backyard, too!” Buck says, rolling his eyes, before softening his gaze as he looks over at Eddie. “And do we, really? Have different households, I mean.”

“Not really,” Eddie says after a moment of thought. “My house has been yours since the first day you walked into it. I just didn’t realize at first.”

“Do you think Ravi was right?” Buck asks. “That we have a bubble and don’t pay attention to anyone else when we’re in it?”

Eddie turns to him, taking and placing Buck’s now empty cup next to his on the table their standing near.

“Probably,” he says, looking up slightly to meet Buck’s eyes. “Do you see anyone else right now?”

Buck shakes his head and steps closer, until they’re not even a foot apart, and gives Eddie a devastatingly beautiful smile.

“Your eyes are so pretty in the sunset,” he says, reaching up tracing around Eddie’s eye with his thumb, sweeping it down and across his cheekbone before pulling it away. “Almost golden-green.”

Eddie shrugs, looking down for a moment. “It’s just a trick of the light.”

“Most magic is,” Buck says.

Eddie blushes at that, realizing all at once that Buck might actually be on the exact same page as him, if he could only work up the courage to ask.

“Can I kiss you?” Buck asks, voice low enough that not even Athena and her near-preternatural senses can hear. “It’s ok if not,” he continues, “I know you only barely came out to the team, and we don’t know everyone here, and I can totally wait, but I… well, I just really want to kiss you if you’re into it.”

“Buck,” Eddie sighs, stepping forward and looping his arms around Buck’s neck, tangling his fingers in the curls he’s been dreaming about for years. “If you don’t kiss me, I will run you through with my Lightsaber.”

“Promises, promises,” Buck laughs, and then they’re finally kissing, and any small semblance of awareness of the world around them dissolves into the air.

After a while, a whoop of delight rings distantly through the night, breaking their attention just long enough that they pull apart, sharing matching reddened smiles.

“What’s that about, you think?” Buck asks, still not looking at anything but Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes towards the team fondly. “Probably whoever won the betting pool of when we’d get together.”

“Rude,” Buck says, completely unbothered. “I am curious who won, though.”

“We’ll find out later,” Eddie says, tugging Buck’s curls. “Kiss me, again.”

“You won’t temp me from the Dark Side, rebel scum,” Buck teases, before doing so.

The rest of the world can wait; they have more important things to do.

The End

[blackdollette]

ollie trying to dom but failing. i dont think ollie and his girl would be kinky at all i think theyd be VERY vanilla. at most theyd be doing some semi-public sex and thats the kinkiest they get.

but one night ollies like "im gonna try and be a mean dom." and he really does try :( he has you bent over his knee and hes spanking his poor girlfriend and he just winces each time like "are you okay? we can stop if you want!" and he even tries to face fuck her 😭 he just gives up tho halfway through coz being so mean to her and hurting her even if she says its fine literally cant give him an orgasm. hes like "okay yeah no. i hate hurting you, cmere haby." and pulls her up to his height and goes back to being passionate :3 ollie would be so romantic i need my own ollie irl

this is too real, he just doesnt have it in him

"let's take control." | ollie sway

this is what makes us girls. - lana del rey

female!reader x ollie

word count: 737

contents: attempt to be dominant, spanking, face-fucking, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

ollie pulled you onto him, kissing you deeply. he sunk into the bed a little as he held you in a firm grasp with no intention of letting go. his hands travelling to the back of your bra, quickly undoing it and pulling it off of you.

he looked deep into your eyes. he looked a little nervous, but you didn't really think anything of it. then he said something that you weren’t quite expecting. “i was wondering if we could try something different tonight..? just for a change, y’know?” you asked him what he meant, but he just told you to do everything that he said.

then he bent you over his lap, making sure that you were comfortable before he started pulling off your shorts. once they were off, he stared at your smooth, beautiful skin and started to reconsider what he was about to do. he took a deep breath and raised his hand and before you could register what was happening, he landed a hard slap on your ass.

you yelped, not one of pain but surprise. you never thought he would be up for something like this, but here he was. you were impressed. there was a long pause after the first slap. ollie watched your skin discolour for a moment from the impact, and his heart filled with sorrow. but he shook off his thoughts and landed a second slap, wincing at the burning sensation on his hand from the impact.

you squealed, starting to enjoy this a lot. but ollie’s heart ached more with every slap he landed. “y-you ok? we can stop if you want…” but you shook your head and asked him to keep going. he was extremely hesitant, but he landed a few more, watching as his palms turned red. then he couldn't take it anymore. he lifted you from his lap and set you down in front of him.

he pulled out his cock, with was softer than it usually was. he just couldn’t understand how people could get turned on by inflicting pain on their partner. he ordered you to lie on your stomach, which you did. then he lifted your head and put his cock in your mouth, and that got him hard as a rock. his hands were on the sides of your head, guiding you up and down.

everytime you gagged on his length he would ask you if you were ok, showering you with questions about your wellbeing. but everytime you would just give him a thumbs up and keep going. at one point, he closed his eyes and started throat-fucking you as fast as he could, but when he saw your teary little doe eyes looking up at him, his heart was overwhelmed with guilt.

he couldn't even find himself getting close to an orgasm this way, so he pulled your head off and sighed. “i’m so sorry. i hope i didn't hurt you..!” you laughed softly, patting him on the cheek. then you climbed on his lap and held his face before kissing him passionately. he pulled your hips so that you were hovering right above his cock, letting you sink down on it slowly.

he moaned softly into the kiss, holding your hips as you started moving up and down on him. things quickly became more passionate. he was kissing your neck, leaving little marks everywhere and your hands were running through his hair as you started moving faster. the noises in the room progressively got louder.

you were becoming such a sticky mess, some of his precum leaking out of you and onto the bedsheets. you could hear how wet you were, and that only made your need for each other grow even more. his cock started to pulsate inside of you, and you felt some of his cum leaking into you.

you and ollie were both close to reaching a perfect climax. he held you tight as he quickly bucked his hips into yours, the slapping sound filling the room. both of you came at the same time, kissing each other deeply as you felt him filling you up with all his cum.

he looked at you lovingly as he came down from his high. he laid down with your head on his chest. you could hear his heartbeat. then he sighed, “you know i could never hurt you.” you smiled and nodded. “yeah. i know.”

author's note: thank you so much for the request!! i have a few more coming out today then my inbox will be open again. thank you!

[emmatgc]

Tommy and the Art of Grieving

This picture is very telling to me and im sure for a lot of PK and Tommy x Grace shippers. Some call it haunting, I call it aching. It hurts seeing him hurt but he aches for her, all the time.

Tommy's soul in in constant torment. No amount of sex, money, guns and death can change that. It only stopped once, with Grace.

After Grace died, the aim was to push Tommy to the brink of no return and get unhinged as a monster that he should become. Alpha monster, no heart and soul just Alpha. But people forgot, his omega was Grace. They were two of the same.

When she died, he died, too.

Tommy grieved more than he should have. For all the talk that Tommy is not an ordinary man, when it comes to Grace, he was the most normal man ever. That was the most humane thing he did- fall in love earnestly.

He thought he will always have her. She spoilt him with her love and he thought it would never end. When it ended, he wasn't about to let go.

Portraits throughout history are normal. Its sizes and placement do matter, though. I always wonder why Tommy changed or took down their family picture and changed it. The bigger the size, the bigger the why. The color was gold. Reverence and royalty, treasure and priority. She was and will forever be. I initially thought, of course, for the sake of the new wife any sane husband would hang the new family portrait instead, but alas it was not the case. It was still Grace, and this time, solo.

My mom is a psychologist. To be precise, a city psychologist of my beloved city for 3 decades and when retired,a private one. In real life, she deals with the likes of Tommy, with ptsd, and other mental illnesses. She deals with criminals among others, too. Once we talked about moving on, and mind you I relayed this picture and back story to her. We both love movies, but series she doesn't have time. She affirmed what others like her say all the time about grieving.

Grieving is a natural process, she started. The grieving becomes tougher when you lost someone you deeply love. However, people grieve differently. Normally, it takes time but it gets easier or worse, it depends on the person. Never forgotten but moving forward. Things, pictures , etc are moved away or kept for good, maintaining a few pictures or momentos for remembrance to live by. But in Tommy's case, she said, it is deep, dark, desperate and tragic. All in the name of love. My Mom simply said, he hasn't moved on yet, doesn't want to, for sure.

When I told her he married another one and still has this huge portrait, she asked, "and the new wife is ok with it?", I said No but he doesn't care. To my surprise, and very decisive answer "well, she doesn't love her at all, nor respect her or at the very least, doesn't love her enough". Her words not mine. I sigh and was relieved, for we have been saying that all along. We were right. Not from our mouths but from an expert of almost 5 decades.

She went on to say "If the husband truly has moved on, the portrait wont be there anymore. Her being solo and a big one says a lot. She is alive in his memory, his heart , his being and his house. He wants everybody to know that, too. He is not denying it, nor shy about it. He wants them and us viewers to know. Red flag for 2nd wives all throughout and the best way is to get out".

Perhaps, everything we said was true. He wants to keep things the way they are and he doesn't care one bit about others. To choose to be comforted by the dead rather by the living is like saying he would rather be in hell if it means being with her forever.

Any woman after Grace will always feel insecure for she looms all over. She is not tormenting his soul. He wants her to be tormenting his soul for she alone can calm and sooth him as well. Each and everytime he is in the tunnel and worse, he goes to Grace, dead or alive to be with her. Just to be with her and her presence.

So, no moving on for Tommy. He will always be grieving for Grace. 💔 She maybe dead, but that doesnt she is not alive in Tommy. She is. Always will be

Thank you, @tommygrace , @tommyxgrace-always forthe picture! Thank you to my Mama! I love you to bits! ❤️