#FIc

[did-sm1-say-catfish]

me watching my fic (2nd sock) get kudos (1st sock)

[hotshotsxyz]

this town is only gonna eat you

(buddie) (s8 spec) (1.1k) already wrote some buck-gets-hit-by-a-car spec, so how about some buck-gets-shot? kept thinking about "take eddie [to the laker's game] and die" and uh... here we are. cw: mass shooting/ gun violence (described vaguely), somewhat graphic description of a bullet wound, blood edit: now featuring a companion piece

Buck is smiling when it happens. Grinning at Eddie like he hung the fucking moon as he points out what must be the hundredth interesting play he’s seen on the court tonight. Buck’s smiling.

Eddie registers the screams before the gunfire. He smells the metallic scent of spent shell casings before he sees the shooter. He tackles Buck to the ground before he realizes he’s already hurt.

Buck was smiling, but now his face is inches from Eddie’s and his eyes are wide with pain and panic.

“Eds,” he says, and it’s barely above a whisper but it’s still too loud.

Eddie shakes his head, a tiny, sharp movement. Buck takes a shaky breath and presses his lips together. He understands. Eddie hates that he understands. Thank God he understands.

There’s something warm and wet slowly spreading between them, and it takes Eddie several wasted seconds to realize it’s blood. He’s almost completely certain it isn’t his, which—

God, that’s so much worse than if it was.

One of Eddie’s hands is still cradling Buck’s head, an instinctive act of protection before they hit the ground. With the other, Eddie slowly begins feeling his way around Buck’s abdomen. His fingers brush against torn fabric and he feels nauseous.

I’m sorry, he mouths before pressing down hard.

Buck gasps in pain. A muscle in his jaw ticks with the effort it must take him to keep from screaming.

“You’re doing so good,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s ear. “I’ve got you; I promise.”

The bullet caught him somewhere along the fifth intercostal space on the right side of his chest. Eddie doesn’t have a way to feel for an exit wound, not without letting up pressure on what he knows is there.

At best, the bullet glanced off a rib and tore through nothing but skin and muscle. At worst…

At worst, Buck is dying beneath him and there’s not a damn thing Eddie can do, not until the shooter is dead or gone. All Eddie can do is pray. Pray and hope like hell that God has forgiven him for his incomplete confession.

Another spray of gunfire echoes through the arena. It’s nearly impossible to identify where it’s coming from, but Eddie’s got a vague idea based on the direction people seem to be running in.

Buck takes a ragged, watery breath.

For the first time in his life, Eddie hopes he’s crying. He draws back, just far enough to look Buck in his eyes. His eyes, which are clouded over in pain but free from tears.

Fuck, fucking goddamn it.

Eddie presses his cheek against Buck’s.

“Slow, steady breaths, okay?” he whispers. “You have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you can’t.”

The tiniest whimper escapes Buck’s chest.

“You have to, Buck, I can’t—” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. “I just need you to hold on,” he begs.

A single shot rings out, and nearby, something falls to the ground with a dull thump.

“Suspect is down!” someone shouts. “We’re clear for EMS.”

Eddie carefully extricates his hand from behind Buck’s head. “Hear that? We’re so close, Buck.” He brushes a thumb across his cheekbone, then sits up and raises his hand in the air. “Over here!” he shouts. “I’ve got a penetrating chest wound that needs to be on the first ambo out of here!”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter as he fights to stay conscious.

“Come on, eyes on me,” Eddie says.

With his free hand and his teeth, he tears a strip of fabric from his shirt to wad up and press into Buck’s wound.  The skin there is ragged and torn, almost certainly an exit wound. Eddie curses.

“I need EMS now!” Eddie roars, not tearing his eyes away from Buck for even a second.

“I’m coming to you!” someone calls back.

Buck’s eyes slip shut.

“No!” Eddie commands, rubbing his knuckles across Buck’s sternum. “You’re staying right here with me, you got it?”

Buck groans weakly. His eyes flick back open.

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Eddie babbles. “Just keep—c’mon, Buck, just keep fighting. I need—you have to be okay.”

Buck’s lips part. “Hurt,” he breathes.

“I know,” Eddie says desperately, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

A pained sound falls from Buck’s lips. He lifts one of his hands just high enough to ghost his fingers along the ruined hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Behind him, Eddie hears a gurney roll to a stop.

“Here!”

Eddie turns and find a young woman, no more than twenty years old, wearing a polo that declares her part of a private ambulance service. He doubts she’d weigh even a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“Alright,” he says, turning back to Buck. “I’m going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?”

Buck’s eyes widen. He makes a strangled sound. “Hurt,” he coughs out again, fingers scrambling uselessly against the concrete floor of the arena.

“They’re gonna give you the good stuff at the hospital,” Eddie reassures. He lets go of Buck’s wound and pulls him into a seated position, then rolls him awkwardly onto his back. “I got you,” he says as he stands.

Eddie staggers beneath Buck’s weight but manages to get him down three rows worth of steps and onto the gurney without the young EMT’s help.

“We’re staged just outside the north entrance,” she says as she begins to push Buck toward a set of doors.

Eddie nods sharply. “He’s got a perforating chest wound, probable pulmonary laceration, and a history of pulmonary embolism. Allergic to naproxen,” he rattles off as he pushes the gurney alongside her.

“Um, okay, that’s—are you a doctor or something?” she asks.

“Firefighter,” Eddie corrects. “We both are.”

The closer they get to the exit, the harder Eddie has to work to keep pace with the EMT. He must be coming down hard as the adrenaline fades. A few spots cloud the corners of his visions. He blinks them away.

The doors to the outside fling open, revealing two paramedics from the 136.

“Diaz, is that you?” one of them asks.

The best Eddie can do is nod.

“Shit, and that’s—”

Eddie’s ears start to ring.

“Diaz, were you shot?”

No, he tries to say. One of the paramedics grabs him under the shoulders, and the other pushes his t-shirt up until—

Oh.

Huh.

He has been shot.

The paramedic in front of him is saying something, but Eddie can’t quite understand it. Over his shoulder, the EMT looks blurry and horrified.

The spots in his vision return with a vengeance, and in his last few moments of lucidity, it occurs to Eddie that the bullet in his abdomen is probably the same one that ripped through Buck’s chest.

Then, the world fades to black, and Eddie thinks nothing at all.  

[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[sassytommykinard]

Tommy with a headache being pampered by Buck. Maybe featuring a purring old rescue cat with the dumbest possible name you can come up with.

Okay, dear. I hope this works for you. 😊

Buck’s just pulling the laundry out of the dryer when his phone goes off in his pocket. Straightening, he pulls it out and sees it’s a text from Lucy.

Hey, you may wanna come get your boy. He’s got a migraine and is pretending he doesn’t.

Damn. Buck had thought Tommy looked a little off this morning, but he’d insisted he was fine, just tired. Figures he’d have a migraine coming on. He doesn’t get them often, but when he does, they’re a doozy.

On my way, he texts back. He doesn’t even bother changing out of his sweatpants and hoodie he’s actually pretty sure is Tommy’s. He doesn’t know anymore, since moving in together, their clothes have become mixed with no room to figure it out. He tells Nugget to behave as he walks out the door.

He gets to Harbor forty-five minutes later to see Tommy leaning against a wall, still in his LAFD pants and t-shirt. Buck would take a second to stare at his arms if he didn’t look so miserable. Lucy waves at him from where she seems to be holding Tommy up while also nudging Tommy in the shoulder. When he looks up at Buck, he manages a smile but Buck can see his face is pinched in pain and he’s squinting in the sunlight. He grabs the extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment and hops out.

“Hey baby,” he says sympathetically as he gently fits the sunglasses over Tommy’s eyes. “Did you feel this bad this morning?”

“It kind of started this morning,” Tommy admits. “But I hoped it wouldn’t get worse.”

“You so stubborn,” he says, rolling his eyes at Lucy who matches it with a smirk. “Come on, let’s get you home and into bed.”

Tommy goes without argument, or even snarky comment about being coddled, so Buck knows he must feel like shit.

Once they’re home, he gently pulls Tommy out of the jeep and gets him into the house, sitting him on the end of the bed.

“Do you want pajamas?” Buck asks softly, knowing loud noises can make it worse.

“No,” Tommy says. “Clothes off.”

“Okay,” Buck answers. He helps Tommy gets out of his t-shirt and pants, leaving him in only boxer briefs and as Tommy lays back against the pillows, Buck rushes around and closes all the blinds in the room. “Cool compress at least?”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispers, though Buck can see the pain in his face lightening a little as the room darkens. “That would be good.”

Buck leans down and kisses his forehead before going into the en-suite bathroom to dampen a washcloth. Working his way back into the bedroom, he places it gently on Tommy’s forehead just as Nugget hops on the bad.

“Hey, bud,” Buck says to the ancient cat. They’ve worked up a tentative truce since he moved in, but the cat is definitely devoted to his person.

He watches as Nugget curls up against Tommy’s side as Tommy curls a hand on the cat’s stomach, giving him a little scritch.

Buck smiles, leans down and kisses his forehead again. “Get some rest.”

“Mmm, where you goin’,” Tommy mutters.

“I was gonna go finish the laundry,” Buck answers, running a hand through his hair. “I kind of left it all in the laundry room.”

“Lay with me,” Tommy says and there’s a tiny note of pleading in his voice and damn, this man has him wrapped around his finger.

“Okay,” Buck whispers. He settles in on the other side so he and Nugget are bracketing him and Tommy sighs contentedly.

“Love you,” Tommy says as he drifts off and Buck smiles.

“Love you too.”

[blyth-me]

drag me out: coriolanus snow

Summary: A night out with friends is good for your health but proves to be messier than expected as you find yourself entangled with a private at the bar.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ mdni, unprotected sex (cap before tap y'all), drinking, modern day military (peacekeeper!) coryo, cursing, choking, p in v, public sex, one night stand, oral sex, horny coryo, slight coercion if you squint, modern!au

THIS WORK IS 18+. IF I CANNOT SEE YOUR AGE, DO NOT INTERACT. ALL MINORS OR AGE ANON USERS WILL BE BLOCKED FROM THIS ACCOUNT.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I shit you not I've had this in my drafts since last December and it's been reworked two or three times so thanks for voting and clearing my drafts :)

masterlist

The bar was rowdy when you walked in. The spot (a dingy dive bar called Plutarch's) was frequently haunted by your girl friends after grueling exams, breakups, or a bout of weekend boredom. Your college wasn't far from the local military base and served as the perfect place for finding something to do on a Friday night. This one was no different.

You'd wanted to blow off steam after a long week. Or maybe it was blowing off steam before a long week. The holidays and "homecoming" seasons were difficult for a myriad of reasons. The topic of grades was a touchy subject with your family although you'd grown stronger as a student in recent years. Your mother, another reason, was the epitome of neurotic during the colder months. Your father always said it was "cabin fever" with a dismissive wave of his hand, never seeming to care enough to cure her. Your friends always rolled their eyes at your hesitance to go back home, but never dared to follow you and find out if you were telling the truth or not.

The group of girls you came with settled at the bar, ordering drinks and scoping out the crowd for something or someone to direct your night. You talked amongst yourselves over the band playing and whispered about the attractive patrons. Suddenly there was a cheer towards the pool tables, causing your eyes to wander to the source. A group of young men entered to join their friends.

"Do you think they're college kids?" One of your friends asked.

"With those builds? No way. Besides, I spot dog tags." Says another, who playfully shoved your shoulder.

You smirked and shook your head, finishing your drink.

"I came here to avoid problems, not get involved with a new one, remember?" You joked, eyes scanning the group of men.

Your group was left to giggle and gossip more and the drinks began to cause a buzz in your head. There was a tall blonde in the group by the pool table who your friend pointed out. His buzz cut made him stand out and you couldn't decide if he was magnetic or if it was the cocktail you'd been nursing. A tattoo peaked out of his shirt sleeve as he crossed his arms, watching his friends, then yours, then you.

You shared a moment of eye contact, his eyes locked in on yours. Your friends started to whisper excitedly, urging you to talk to him.

"No," you shook your head. "he can come over if he wants me."

You turned back to your friends, finished your second drink of the night, and carried on conversation for a few minutes until-

"Excuse me ladies, can I cut in?"

There he was, standing patiently in front of you as your friends quietly left the two of you alone. Up close, he was so much bigger than you anticipated. His shoulders were broad and he towered over you. His smile was polite and practiced, but his eyes seemed calculated, honed in. He was now your problem.

"You scared off my friends," you joked, turning around. "buy me a drink and make it up to me."

He laughed behind you, leaning next to you on the bar.

"What do you like?" His eyes gave you a careful scan as you told him your order.

The two of you laughed awkwardly and waited for your drink.

"Do you come here a lot?" He asked, making you scoff.

"God, do you try that on everyone?"

"Only the pretty girls." He handed you your drink. "Or the ones that might make me look better."

"Funny." You said, feeling a little more buzzed than usual.

"Did it work?"

You shrugged playfully and smiled. Maybe a little, you thought.

"Who are you?"

"Private Coriolanus Snow."

"Flashing your rank? You're on a roll."

He smiled at you in a way that made your stomach churn and look for your friends who are now mingling with his. When you turned back to him, he was resting his back against the bar, big hand cradling a beer. He really was so much bigger close up.

"So," you started, "do you come here a lot?"

This earned a laugh from him. It was a good, hearty laugh. A laugh that sounded like he needed it.

"I practically live here off base. It's my outlet besides working out."

Now it was your turn to laugh.

"Holy shit." You mumbled. "You've got all the lines ready." You let out another giggle and shook your head, looking at him.

"Alright, I'm gonna be honest." Coriolanus lowered his voice and leaned closer to you. "I get real lonely on base. My friends over there-" He nodded in the direction where your friend groups were mixed. "they want me to find someone pretty to..." he cleared his throat. "blow off steam."

You nearly choked on your drink. Coriolanus laughed a little at your reaction and took your drink, placing it next to his beer on the bar.

"Are you propositioning me, Private?" He laughed again and shrugged.

"What if I am?" He looked at you a little more seriously, his voice more firm as you felt yourself blushing from the eye contact.

"I drove my friends, I wasn't even supposed to be drinking." You trailed off and looked back at the group.

"Relax," He spoke softly, touching your arm. "you've already been irresponsible once tonight, what say you to another bad decision?"

You blinked up at him, unsure of what to say as you shifted near your barstool. There were a million thoughts running around your head and as if he could sense it, he gave your forearm a soft squeeze.

"No pressure. I just think you're cute and we could help each other out." He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "We don't even have to go back to base if you don't want prying eyes peeking in the barracks. The alley is usually empty."

"How do you know that?" You cringed slightly, hiding your amusement.

"The less you know, the better."

You found yourself laughing at his quick remark. Frankly, Coriolanus was right. You wanted to remain as clueless as possible. You looked at him again and recalled the whole purpose of your night out in the first place. He was really attractive, you couldn't ignore the way your heart was threatening to grow wings and fly out of your chest, but you were hesitant. What about my friends? You wondered.

"Fine. But," You looked at him. "We keep this a one night thing. I don't want to be a bootycall on base for you."

He shook his head and smiled at the floor.

"Do I come off that desperate?"

"No." You answered a little too quickly. You were very tipsy and he was getting better looking by the minute. His soft smirk drew your eyes to his lips. They were slightly parted as he laughed at your quickness.

Before you processed it, he placed a kiss to your lips and took your hand. You stood and followed him as he snuck you out the back door of the bar. Coriolanus made sure to hide you away in a corner before kissing you again. That time, it was longer, more desperate, and more sloppy. The mixing of drinks on your tongue made you never want to stop kissing him. Your drink and his beer somehow tasted better than you would have thought. He's got you caged against the wall as he worked his lips down your neck, his teeth and tongue nipping and soothing your skin.

"Think you can get on your knees, baby?"

You nodded eagerly as he fumbled with his belt. You dropped to your knees, the concrete scraping you through your jeans as you looked up at him.

"Just need you to get him warmed up." He mumbled, freeing himself from his jeans. A thigh tattoo caught your attention, the combination of letters and numbers were legible for a moment before Coriolanus lifted your chin with his free hand and stroked his cock with the other.

"You're pretty." He observed plainly, his hand pausing to guide your lips to his leaky tip. "Shit-" He groaned as you wrapped your lips around him.

He didn't waste any time, tangling his hand in your hair as he bobbed your head. You gagged slightly, your hands braced on his thighs. You felt your heart skip a beat as the slightest hint of a whine fell past his lips. You hollowed your cheeks and hummed. Coriolanus cursed again, head tipped fully back, before he pulled you off. You opened your mouth to pout, desperate to keep pulling those sounds out of him, but he stopped you.

"Up." He demanded quietly, helping you stand. When you got to your feet he kissed you hard.

"Shit, baby." He breathed a laugh. "I might have to get your number so I can try that mouth again."

Before you can answer, his lips are latched on to yours. His hands hurriedly work at your skirt, flipping it up and sliding your damp panties to the side. When he felt you, he paused to look down and god if you could have frozen time, you would have. His eyes darkened significantly as he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean.

"Mmm." Coriolanus hummed. "You're ready to go."

You nodded, looking down as his hand wrapped around his cock again.

"Please?" You whispered. The desperation in your voice betrayed your cool exterior.

"Good manners, good girl." He smirked, lining himself up. "You gonna take it for me? Hmm?"

His question was more of a taunt as he pressed into you. He lifted your leg as your head lolled back against the brick wall. Your hand clung to his back through his shirt, feeling the muscles rippling beneath your skin. He gave you no time to adjust as he started a quick pace inside you, dragging against all the right places. The stretch of him was just the right amount of sting and sweetness.

You were a little embarrassed at the sounds fleeing your mouth. He let you moan freely for a bet before pausing.

"You have to be a good girl and be quiet for me." He laughed, kissing your neck. "Take it like a quiet girl, baby."

Coriolanus resumed his movements after giving you the order. You tried to stifle the sounds, but his tip was kissing the parts inside of you that made your head spin and your knees weak. The next time you whimpered just a little too loud between labored breaths, he put his large hand over your mouth.

"Shhh, baby. I know." He cooed, pounding into you a little rougher as if to test your quickly dissipating self-control. "You're so perfect for me." He praised. "Hugging my cock so good, baby. So warm."

As Coriolanus rambled against your neck, you felt the knot in your stomach building. You clawed desperately at his shirt and tried to stifle accidental sounds against his shoulder. The scratch of the cold brick against your back seemed like a vague background sensation and you felt yourself drifting further away. The leg you were standing on began to tremble as you whispered desperately “Coryo!” and try to stay up.

“Getting wobbly, pretty?” He looked at you and wrapped his free hand around your throat. He didn’t let up his brutal pace as he shushed you again.

“Feels so good, shit-” Coriolanus groaned loudly. “You’ve never been treated like this before hm?” He kissed you softly, a contrast to his rough movements.

You couldn’t respond. Part of this was due to the intense feeling of him pounding into you like a teenager afraid to get caught, but it was mainly due to your rapidly approaching orgasm. You silky, wet walls gave him a warning squeeze, causing him to falter momentarily.

“You close, pretty?” Coriolanus panted. You nodded.

“Yeah, huh?” He cooed almost condescendingly before lowering his lips to your ear. “I’m gonna fill this perfect cunt up and you’re gonna let me.”

With that, you became consumed with a white hot disorientation. You felt everything and nothing at the same time as you mewled against his shoulder. Coriolanus squeezed your thigh, whimpering as he pressed himself to the deepest part of you, making good on his promise moments before.

You continued holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you caught your breath. Coriolanus dropped your leg and gave you a quick kiss before tucking himself away and zipping his pants.

“Can you walk?” He wondered, biting back a laugh.

“Honestly?” You huffed, smiling. “That’s anyone’s guess.”

He unceremoniously offered you his hand as you finished readjusting yourself.

“Still don’t wanna give me your number?” He joked quietly against your ear.

You laughed as the two of you made your way back to the bar. Your friends and his friends were engaged in a heated game of darts, laughing and drinking together.

“It’s probably best that I don’t.” You replied sarcastically, earning a chuckle from him. As you gripped his bicep for balance, you thanked whatever higher power that he was so much bigger than you.

“Damn.” He cursed, smiling toothily. “Well, if next time you’re here, say in two weeks, and you need a little relief…”

You blushed and looked back to your friends.

“Nice try. One night only, remember?” You smiled back.

But it wasn’t one night only, because after you got all your stumbling friends into your empty dorm room and settled down for the night, you opened up your Tinder only to see his face as the first one upon opening the app. You decided, maybe not in your right mind, that it was fate and swiped right on your new favorite serviceman.

[emmawithtwoms]

Madame Puddifoot's

@wolfstarmicrofic day 10 -156 words

“So…”

“So…”

“Here we are”

“Apparently”

“Should we…?”

“I guess so… we’re here after all”

“The I guess you should open the door”

“Yeah, yeah, just…”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“What the fuck are we doing?”

“I guess… going on a romantic date? Like everybody else?”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“This place is… pink”

“Yes”

“Too pink”

“I mean… I guess?” 

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“Are we really about to go drink tea at Madam Puddifoot’s?”

“I… guess? Isnìt this what a date is supposed to be like?”

“I-I don’t really know, I’ve never really dated before”

“All the girls I dated wanted to come here to have a romantic date”

“Yeah, but did you actually enjoy it?”

“Not really, but I didn’t even properly like them, not like I like you”

“Sirius”

“Yes Remus?”

“Do you want to go to The Three Broomstick to drink a butterbeer?”

“Gladly”

“Let’s go then, love”

“I love you so much, Moony”

Ps: Idk really know what I was doing with this, I just wanted to improve my dialogue writing skills (Is that even a thing?)

[sweetietot]

“come on poppet, open wide, there’s a good girl.”

you’re sick — dizzy, hot, head pounding — but george can’t help but try to make you laugh, scowl, protest. anything. your reactions are his favourite.

is it the flu making your cheeks heat, or his silly name-calling? he smiles at you all the same when you furrow your eyebrows, mouth falling open to accept the spoonful of soup he brings towards you.

it slicks down your throat like honey, the only respite from the pain you’ve felt all day, and he brushes the hair away from your sticky forehead lovingly. he knows you can't chide him in this state, you can barely talk.

"poor thing." you want to glare but you melt under his hand, as his nails scratch slowly over your scalp. "nearly done, then you can get some rest, yeah?"

your movements are sluggish, blinking slowly up at him as you try to nod but change your mind. george puts the bowl down gently, helping you adjust back down into the pillows. with fuzzy eyes, he looks a little like an angel hovering above you this way.

he kisses your forehead. "i know i'm pretty but close your eyes. you can stare at me later."

[gogogoat495]

[ID: Screenshot of a post by ot3 reading "this is an awesome post to make if you want to get spoiled for every single piece of media on the entire planet" /End ID]

You Are Not Immune To fanart of characters who die in canon that has them alive and well, with scars from the wound that originally killed them

[hotshotsxyz]

heart is beating heavily

(buddie) (s8 spec) (1k) several people asked for more of this town is only gonna eat you so this is that. unfortunately i am still feeling evil, so please enjoy buck's pov of the same events :) btw the title of both of these fics comes from the song bloody shirt by to kill a king, which i played on repeat while writing these cw: mass shooting / gun violence

Buck’s breath leaves him in a sharp exhale when he hits the ground. It hurts, but not—not where it should. His chest, his back, they’re on fire. His head, though, as violently as he was thrown to the ground, never makes contact with the cement.

The only thing he can see now is Eddie. Eddie, hovering above him, eyes wild. He looks—cornered. Trapped. Only he’s the one pressing Buck into the sticky floor of the arena, not the other way around, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Eds,” he tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak.

Eddie shakes his head sharply, almost—

Panicked.

Buck takes a breath and it hurts. His thoughts feel sluggish in a way they never really are. He tries to take stock of what he knows anyway.

His body is screaming in pain.

Eddie is afraid. (Why is Eddie afraid? What could possibly—)

They’re on the floor. (Eddie pushed him to the floor. Why would he—)

The space around them is filled with a cacophonous noise that Buck can’t quite identify.

Pain. Fear. Sharp popping noises that make Buck’s ears hurt, and—

Screaming.

Oh.

Buck presses his lips together and tips his chin toward his chest in an approximation of a nod. Eddie exhales, warm against his cheek. His face does something complicated, and then—

I’m sorry, Eddie mouths, and before Buck can figure out what for, white hot pain lances through his chest.

In his mind he screams.

In reality, he bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. They’re in danger, and he won’t—As long as he’s still breathing, Eddie won’t leave him here. Even if he should. He won’t protect himself, won’t run, won’t hide. The least Buck can do is keep from drawing attention toward them, but in the moment, it feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“—so good,” Eddie breathes into his ear. “I got you; I promise.”

Buck wants to believe that almost as much as he wishes Eddie would just save himself. Every breath he takes is harder than the one before, though, and it occurs to him that soon, he might draw his last. If he has to die, Eddie’s face is a pretty incredible last thing to see. He just wishes it wasn’t twisted in pain and fear.

It takes a minute for Buck to catch up with his own thoughts. Pain. That’s—he’s seen it in Eddie’s expression enough times to know it intimately. Why is he in pain? Eddie presses his cheek to Buck’s before he can interrogate the expression further.

“Slow, steady breaths, okay? You have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you can’t.”

The scrape of Eddie’s jaw against his sends something like a shiver down Buck’s spine. There’s something—something important, but—it feels just out of reach.

“You have to, Buck, I can’t—I just need you to hold on,” Eddie whispers, quietly wrecked.

He’s trying. God is he trying. But it’s—every breath feels like pulling fire into his lungs. With every exhale, he feels a tiny bit weaker, a tiny bit worse. Eddie pulls away slightly, and Buck feels the absence like a missing rib.

“Hear that?” Eddie asks, brushing a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone.

He doesn’t—he doesn’t hear anything other than Eddie, but he’s not sure he wants to.

“We’re so close, Buck.”

Something settles in his chest at the sound of his name on Eddie’s lips, louder than before, drenched in something that sounds like relief. He blinks once, twice, slow and heavy.

“Come on, eyes on me,” Eddie says sharply. And—oh, when did he get so far away?

Eddie pulls the hem of his shirt to his teeth and—oh god. That’s not Buck’s blood. He’s—Eddie’s hurt too, but Buck can’t make his mouth work, can’t even keep his eyes open long enough to—

“No!” Eddie commands. A new pain accompanies his voice. “You’re staying right here with me, got it?”

He has to—has to tell Eddie—he doesn’t—

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Eddie says, eyes shining.

A lump forms in his throat.

“Just keep—c’mon Buck, just keep fighting. I need—you have to be okay.”

He does. He does have to be okay because Eddie’s not and he’s acting like he doesn’t even know.

“Hurt,” Buck forces out.

“I know,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t! “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a frustrated groan. He tries to shake his head, and when that fails, to lift his hand to Eddie’s abdomen.

Eddie turns away from him, and if Buck could scream now, he would.

“Alright,” he says, turning back to Buck. “I’m going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?”

No! No he can’t! Buck tries to tell him again, tries to force anything through his lips that Eddie will understand. You’re—“hurt,” he manages again. He can’t even lift his hand now. He’s dying and he’s going to take Eddie with him.

Eddie says something he can’t parse, and suddenly he’s moving, being lifted dizzyingly high off the ground. He sees—

A body. A swarm of cops. Uniformed paramedics and EMTs running in every direction imaginable.

One of them, he just needs one of them to look at Eddie. He just needs one of them to see. He’s still walking, still talking. He still has time.

Eddie drops him onto what must be a gurney, and immediately it begins to roll. Buck allows his head to loll away from Eddie and towards—

An EMT! She can—she can do something. She can—

She’s not looking at him.

She’s not looking at Eddie either. She’s looking straight ahead and under any other circumstances Buck would compliment her for her pragmatic understanding of the urgency of the situation. But she’s walking too fast and Eddie’s beginning to stumble.

“Diaz, is that—” Yes, yes! Someone sees him. Someone else knows—

“—were you shot?”

Buck gets his head around just in time to watch Eddie collapse into the arms of a firefighter he doesn’t recognize.

He wants to scream, to sob, to thrash against the restraints keeping him on the gurney. He wants to—

Wants to—

Needs—

Eddie.

[frost-queen]

A dance of fencing (Reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer @slythetic , @p0nycurtis

Summary: Benedict takes up fencing, not knowing who his opponent is as he remains quiet. Each time he is defeated by his partner. During the balls a girl keeps following him and trying to make something clear. With his mind still on winning a match, he makes a deal to buy his partner a drink if he wins. If only he knew his opponent was the girl who kept trying to hint it at him during balls.

Benedict hurried towards the door as it caught Violet’s attention. Making her stop mid-way, gawking at her son. – “Uhm Benedict… where are you going?” – She wanted to know. Benedict stopped, moving a bit back. – “Out.” – he replied as if it was the most casual thing. – “Now, it is almost calling hour.” – Violet responded.

“I… I have other obligations.” – Benedict answered already checking the clock in the hallway. – “But your sister…” – Violet reminded him again. – “Will be fine without me, she has plenty of hawks circling around her.” – he called out heading for the door.

Before Violet could scold him, he had left. Calling over one of the carriages. Violet sighed loud, entering the drawing room to wait for any suitors to announce themselves to Francesca. Benedict hopped into the carriage as it rode off.

The carriage stopped in front of a mansion. White stone walls with pillars on each side. A man was standing outside having a smoke. Not even trying to hide it. His eyes focused on Benedict when he got out. – “I’ll be damned Bridgerton is that you?”  - the man called out, dropping his cigarette on the ground.

Sniffing it out with his heel before coming over. Benedict looked surprised at the acquaintance when he neared. – “John Fidleton is that you?” – he asked. John shook his hand firm with a pat on against his shoulder. – “Here for fencing too?” – John wanted to know, leading him closer to the mansion.

Benedict chuckled out a laugh with a shrug. John laughed patting him hard on the back.  – “A man of many talents.” – John joked leading him inside the mansion. – “To be honest I just needed an escape from the house.” – Benedict teased with a smirk. John laughed loud patting him even harder on his back.

Benedict nearly stumbled forwards, coughing as the air felt being punched out of his lungs. – “You were always the funny one.” – John teased with a poke in his cheek. Benedict chuckled softly, rubbing his cheek. John leaded him to the training room. A grant ballroom now occupied with other obligations then dance. Many men were already suited up and warming up.

John slapped Benedict hard on his back. – “Get yourself ready.” – he shoved Benedict towards a door. Benedict left the room to change. With the helmet under his arm, he returned. He observed and watched some already parring. The sound of their fencing foil clattering against each other.

The instructor entered as everyone lined up. The instructor paused to give Benedict a quick bored glance. – “You new?” – he asked making Benedict nod, adding a bow afterwards. The instructor motioned with his head for him to join the line. Benedict hurried over, coming to stand beside John.

The instructor clapped his hands together after his speech, making everyone form a pair. Benedict turned to look at John to partner up, but John had already left to meet another chap. Laughing loud. It made Benedict look uncomfortable around as he didn’t knew anyone else. The instructor clapped loud, calling for his attention.

He then pointed at a person fully suited up. Benedict bowed to his instructor, making his way over. He approached you, holding his hand out to you. – “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” – he introduced himself. You stared down at his hand. As a reply you bowed, not shaking his hand. Benedict cleared his throat a bit ashamed, bowing afterwards.

“I look forward to fence with you.” – he started loosening up his shoulder. You tapped with your fencing foil on the helmet under his arm. – “Oh right.” – Benedict answered, moving the helmet up. – “You aren’t much of a talker are you?” – he questioned as you turned round to take your stand. Benedict put his helmet on, taking a stand as well.

If only he knew. You breathed loud into the helmet taking a moment to compose yourself. Waiting for Benedict to make the first move. Benedict launched forwards as you easily blocked his attack with a swift swing of your fencing foil. One hand behind your back as you needed to use little effort for it. With your fencing foil, you touched his chest with the tip of it.

Benedict looking with surprise down at his chest. You removed the fencing foil from him, taking a step back again. Benedict taking a stand once more. Again he set his foot forwards, launching at you. Turning just a quarter, you let your fencing foil block his. Letting it swing round to unbalance him.

Benedict tensed his jaw, regaining his balance and attacking once more. His efforts were little as your agility and speed blocked his strike before it could come even near you. The tip of your fencing foil again touching his chest.

Benedict groaned loud as you took another stand. You let your gaze go down to his feet, seeing his footwork wasn’t steady. Knowing he was about to strike, you deflected his strike. Making your fencing foil circle around his till it got flung out of his hands. Up in the air, Benedict watched with grand eyes.

You shoved him back with your fencing foil as he stumbled to the ground. With your free hand, you caught his fencing foil taking a deep bow at him. Benedict groaned loud at his defeat. Benedict got back up as you offered him his fencing foil.

He took it annoyed barely giving you a glance. He took another stand. With each defeat, the urge of overthrowing you grew. Giving up, he took of his helmet and went back to the changing rooms. Not even throwing you a glance over his shoulder.

Benedict rubbed his neck to ease his muscles making Anthony glance at him. Benedict cleared his throat, lowering his hand. – “Has he been handling you roughly again?” – Anthony questioned. Benedict sighed loud. – “Now I regret ever telling you.” – he mumbled out. Anthony came to face him, grabbing him by his vest.

“You better land that win on this gentleman for the sake of our family name.” – Anthony told him firmly. – “It’s just practice.” – Benedict replied with a roll of his eyes. Anthony dusted off Benedict’s shoulders. – “No excuse, I just know he is laughing in your face.” – Anthony finished looking suspiciously over his shoulder.

Benedict pushed his brother’s hands off him. – “Actually he hasn’t been taunting. Just quiet.” – Benedict reassured him that his opponent wasn’t mocking him at all. Rather always remaining calm and not giving him much interaction.

“Beside the point.” – Anthony muttered out, bringing up a polite smile when some ladies walked past them. Kate appeared leaning her arm on Anthony’s shoulder. – “Are you taunting your brothers again?” – she asked her husband with a mischievous scowl. – “Wha… no!” – Anthony answered making Kate smile.

Benedict bowed his head to her as she scrunched her nose with a smile in return to him. Kate kept shushing her husband, pulling him away from Benedict. Throwing him a wink over her shoulder as she led him away. Alone, Benedict took a deep exhale.

Getting in motion, he needed a drink. Brushing past ladies and lords to reach the beverages. He got handed a lemonade, turning around to watch the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone approach. Coming to stand at his side.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” – you said with a curtsy. Benedict nearly chocked on his drink, sputtering in his glass. Lemonade splashing up in his face. Lowering his glass, he wiped his face clean. Standing face to face with a girl. Hands folded in front of her, a dazzle in her eyes. – “I uhm… yes Eloise!” – he called out making an escape for it.

Out of sight, he exhaled loud, undoing his tie a bit around his neck. Puffing loud as he had avoided another eager girl. You blinked surprised at his departure. Taking your glass of lemonade, you went after him. You noticed him standing alone as it made you hum thoughtfully. Hinting he had been deliberately avoiding you.

Knowing you couldn’t face him head on, you decided to sneak up on him to join his side. Slowly you shuffled closer to him from the side. Trying to make it as casual as ever that you were sneaking up to him.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” – you repeated to get his attention. He turned his head with a loud and visible sigh. He already started to get in motion as you wouldn’t let him leave so easily. – “Mr. Bridgerton!” – you called out heading after him. – “Just go back to your mama!” – Benedict responded looking over his shoulder.

Too occupied with him, you nearly bumped into someone. You spun around, avoiding him ending in fencing stand. Looking up, you just had to see if he had seen it. Benedict’s eyes were still on you, but quickly looked away once he saw you had managed it. Brushing you off, you watched him leave. You hoped it would’ve been a perfect hint for him to connect that you were his fencing partner.

Sighing loud, you turned the other direction. No more attempts. Benedict returned to his siblings, needing to shake the feeling off. – “Those debutants keep getting eagerly each year.” – he complained to Eloise. She snorted loud. – “Poor you.” – she teased with pouted lips. It made Benedict give her a little shove. Colin laughing loud.

Benedict entered the mansion once more, heading for the gardens. A match outdoors due to the good weather. Bowing his head to John further up ahead. He then walked straight up to his fencing partner. You pointed with your fencing foil at his helmet to put it on.

Benedict held his finger up to you. – “How about a deal first?” – he asked teasingly. You gestured for him to continue. – “If I land a win, you’ll have to reveal yourself. Show me who you are and I’ll buy you a drink on top of that.” – Benedict proposed.

“What do you say, deal?” – he wanted to know, opening his hands all smug. You nodded accepting his offer. Benedict smiled putting his helmet on. Each taking a stand to begin. No matter what he did, he kept being hit by you. Losing in every way. Making him groan time and time again, but he was persistent.

Benedict kept practising with Anthony in the yard at home. Anthony yelling at him to keep an eye on his footwork. Whatever the cost, he wanted to win the deal. Days past with practices and balls. At practise he kept losing and at each ball, he kept being followed by a lady out of so many.

It started to irritate him as he disliked debutants and their eager mama’s. He started to portray his frustrations into his fencing. Anthony directing him to channel it more clearer. Frustration’s couldn’t cloud his judgement. Day in and out, he practised with Anthony and kept losing to his opponent at fencing classes. Hoping he would lance a win soon enough. Eager to know the gentleman that was outstanding in fencing.

Anthony had given Benedict a pep talk in the morning. Now entering the mansion once more, he wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, but was eager to keep trying. He came facing you once more with a bow. You curled up a smile from behind your helmet. Benedict waited for you to do anything first as it made you quirk your eyebrow up.

You made your way at him as he deflected it. Trying to tap your chest for a point. You spun around with ease, striking at him. Benedict let his fencing foil clash with yours. Coming nearly face to face. Panting loud in his helmet as he narrowed his eyes to try and see any features through the helmet. You shoved him back as he stumbled.

He regained his balance, blocking another strike of you. Glancing down, you noticed his footwork had improved. He was getting better, just how you liked it. You always like a challenge as most of the other’s wouldn’t want to fence with you anymore because they always lost. Benedict was persistent, wanting to win from you.

You noticed the slightest slip-up with him, striking him down. He looked down at the tip on his chest, sighing loud. – “Again!” – he called out coming in position again. Benedict and you kept fencing even when everyone else had given up and returned home.

The instructor asked if you wanted to leave as well. Benedict wouldn’t asking if they could stay a bit longer. Sure that he would land his win today. The instructor accepted, retiring to his study. Now you had the entire ballroom for your own. For fencing was a dance in her own style. – “Again.” – Benedict repeated getting up once more.

You nodded, taking a stand once more. Your fencing foils clashed opposite from each other. Benedict and you nose to nose. Both panting loud in the helmet. Benedict moved his hand up to push the fencing foils upwards. It made you stumble a bit backwards as Benedict struck.

You immediately blocked it out of breath. Moving back as he went forwards. He tried to aim for your chest as you deflected his touch. He kept coming at you as you were impressed by his dedication. Dancing back and forth with him. Benedict struck at you as you deflected it.

He quickly repositioned his hand, to hit your chest while you weren’t looking. A hard touch on your chest, made you widen your eyes. Looking down at your chest to see his tip clear on your chest. Benedict’s eyes widened as well. His scream of joy echoing into the ballroom as he sunk to his knees in victory.

You had to give it to him, clapping. Benedict removed his helmet, panting loud. – “I think we have a deal good sir.” – he said with a smirk. You nodded offering him your fencing foil as he took it. Taking a step back to watch with eagerness who the gentleman was that he had been fencing with for months now.

You exhaled deep as you brought your hands up to your helmet. Unsure how he would react. A deal was a deal so you weren’t going to chicken out of it. Slowly you removed your helmet as Benedict’s eyes widened seeing gentle lips. He dropped the fencing coils, clattering to the ground at the sight of a girl. Not just any girl, but the girl he had been brushing off at every ball.

“How about that drink?” -  you said with a teasing smile. Benedict was speechless. Utterly speechless that his opponent had been a girl this entire time. It made you a bit shy as he wasn’t responding. He was normally always so full with words and now he couldn’t even utter one.

“A lemonade is just fine.” – you replied to cut the silence, knowing he used to think you were a man. He couldn’t give you any alcohol so a lemonade would be just fine. – “Or should I return to my mama?” -  Benedict apologized before taking his leave. Letting your shoulders slouch, you felt like you had just lost your fencing partner. Unsure if you could ever come back.

You didn’t come to the next fencing practise. Just not feeling it. Yet dismissing a ball was out of the question for your parents. Now you stood by the windows looking bored. Bored with the people, you turned around to look outside. Pulling your nose up at the sudden presence at your side.

Turning your head, you were surprised to see that it was Benedict. – “As promised.” – he said offering you a glass of lemonade. You looked down at the glass, hesitant to accept it. – “I… I didn’t catch your name the other day.” – he asked as you took the glass from him. – “Well you never staid to hear it.” – you responded looking away to take a sip.

Benedict chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. He was still waiting for an answer with eagerness. – “Y/n Y/l/n.” – you answered making him curl up a smile. – “I didn’t see you at fencing practise, miss Y/n.” – he continued to conversate with you. – “Oh, I didn’t know you were looking for me.” – you replied.

Benedict plucked the drink from you, handing it to a man not far from him. – “How about a dance miss Y/n?” – he asked offering you his hand. You kept staring at his hand wanting him to sweat just that little extra. Benedict moved his head closer to you. Almost cheek to cheek to whisper in your ear.

“It’s like fencing.” – he whispered to you. It made you bashful at how close he was. Clearing your throat, you composed yourself. – “I suppose I can grant you one dance.” – you replied unbothered, laying your hand in his. Benedict smiled all giddy, guiding you towards the dancers. Letting go of your hand as you came standing in front of him.

“Does this require a deal as well?” – you teased him looking all smug. The music began as Benedict took you by your waist, pulling you up to his chest. – “Only your attention.” – he responded. – “I can do that.” – you answered with a smirk. Benedict touched your chin with his knuckles before leading you into the dance.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Boys in Bars

A/N: Hi Babes! :D So uhh….me again with the never say never....this one's a love I've had for...20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex....

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I didn't tell @ken-dom this one was being shared, so she's probably gonna lose it....Sorry xD love you big much.

She’s still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I've written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+ (Not yet but like...it's getting there ok?)

I wasn't gonna share it today, but with the digital DP&W release I felt I should and @coggedcorset aggressively encouraged as they do <3

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3 

You sighed glancing down the length of the bar; Logan sat there, like he did every other night of the week. Silent and unmoving, save for occasionally reaching for the half empty bottle sat on the bar top. 

Usually he minded his own business, and no one else paid him any mind…usually…the bar wasn’t particularly busy tonight, and you were bored. 

You made your way down the bar on the opposite side, stopping where he sat. He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting yours for a brief second before they dropped again to examine a particularly interesting knick in the polished wood of the bar. 

“You should eat something” 

“No” he spoke into the bartop and you rolled your eyes

“Mmm good, just going to destroy your liver twice as fast tonight, got it” 

You reached for the near empty bottle and his hand snapped out with lightning speed, the hint of his metal claws poking out between his knuckles; his fingers warm against the back of your hand…too warm thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his system. 

“Leave it” he nearly growled. 

“What are you going to do, cut off my fingers?” you rolled your eyes pulling the bottle out of his reach. “You’re done” 

He snorted with a laugh “Am I?” claws retracting back under his skin 

You ignored him, dropping the bottle back in the well “The spare bed is still made up upstairs if you’re interested” 

“Are you giving me an option?” he quipped as you walked around the other end of the bar, going to lock the door and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’ 

“Sure,” you smiled sweetly and he cocked an eyebrow “The couch is a little small, but I guess curled up on the floor is an option too” 

He barked a laugh, louder than necessary, but given how much he had had to drink you were shocked he was coherent at all. 

You flipped off the lights and the bar was cloaked in darkness, moonlight streaming in through the door and windows, giving you enough light to navigate back to where Logan still sat. 

He sat up straighter as you came to stand over his shoulder, but made no move to stand. You wrapped an arm around his torso, draping a muscled arm around your shoulders as you heaved him to his feet; this hadn’t been the first time and sadly you didn’t think it would be the last either. The two of you had gotten into a bit of a routine since you had started working here regularly. He leaned heavily against your comparatively tiny frame as you grabbed his worn brown leather jacket with your free hand, draping it over your arm as you lead him to the narrow staircase, minding his feet, knowing full well that one stumble in his clunky work boots would send you both crashing to the bar floor and he was significantly harder to pick up from there. 

“I swear you only make me do this on night’s I wear heels” you muttered, using the wall to support yourself in the almost too narrow stairwell as you pulled him up with you.

“I can walk” he slurred 

Despite his declaration, his weight leaned heavier against you and as if to prove your point, he misjudged the next step, toe catching on the lip of the step, sending him careening forward, forcing you to catch yourself against the wall, fingernails digging into the flesh of his hip to keep him from smashing his perfectly straight teeth on the stairs. 

He grunted, catching himself on the wall on the other side without much success and you sighed as he righted himself. 

“You were saying?” 

“Shut up” he muttered as you reached the landing, wrenching the heavy wood door open that led to your tiny apartment. 

“You should really fix that” he mumbled as you dragged him into the dark room before flipping on the light and kicking the door closed with your foot

“I’ll get right on it” you sighed, finally letting go of the grip you’d had around his waist, causing him to stumble slightly as you reached to pull your heels off. “You know where your bed is” you yawned, draping his jacket over the nearest chair.

“My bed?” he repeated to the back of your head as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You turned only enough to look over your shoulder at him standing on surprisingly steady feet, the first three or four buttons of his plaid shirt undone and you had to force yourself to meet his eye. 

He’s drunk the little voice in the back of your mind whispered It would be unethical 

You snorted at your own inner monologue before answering him “Well, no one else spends as many nights here” 

This seemed to be answer enough for him as he sat with a heavy thump on the couch, bending to untie his boots before kicking them off, leaving them haphazardly strewn on the living room floor. 

You made your way down to the bathroom, closing the door most of the way behind you as you ran the hot water to wash your face and change. 

When you reemerged, you  found Logan sitting on the edge of the spare bed, leaned against the headboard, snoring softly. 

You giggled softly and seriously considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. 

“Logan,” you whispered, touching his arm gently, careful to keep clear of his hands. Nearly being impaled once when you startled him awake the first time he had spent the night was enough.

He hadn’t even stirred at your touch. 

You sighed “Any other night and you’d almost take my head off” you muttered

You grunted bending to lift his legs up on the bed and he mumbled something in his sleep as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. Pulling the comforter up around his shoulders you turned off the small lamp next to the bed, nearly jumping out of your skin hearing a slurred “Thanks” from where he laid.

“Just don’t puke on my bed” 

You heard him scoff with a laugh as you made your way to your own bed, drifting off to sleep almost as quickly as he had. 

***

You turned over in your sleep with a heavy sigh through your nose; a heaviness pressing on your mid-section. You blinked sleep from your eyes as you took a deep breath as you turned over, you jumped slightly when your nose nearly brushed against Logan’s as he slept. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed a second time, his arm still heavy across your middle as you studied his face in the dark. His face was weathered…not that you blamed him, you knew he’d been through the ringer before he ever graced a stool at the bar. Some he talked about, most he didn’t…you assumed. He was handsome still though, ruggedly so. You watched as his forehead creased with worry; he was dreaming. 

He dreamt a lot, or more accurately had nightmares a lot. You wondered if he thought the drinking helped; they seemed to be worse on the night’s he drank heavier…you had tried pointing that out once and nearly lost a limb because of it. Logan wasn’t the most…level headed man; although you could say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t ever hurt you…anymore.

You turned over to the best of your ability, still trapped under the dead weight of his arm. He hadn’t even noticed, just carried on mumbling incoherently in his sleep, jerking slightly. You reached with a hand to brush your thumb gently across his cheek and his features softened instantly as he relaxed under your touch. 

“Shhh” you cooed, feeling his fingers twitch slightly against the small of your back “It’s okay, you’re safe” you whispered, his arm instinctively squeezing tighter, pulling you closer. 

It was that exact moment that it occurred to you  that Logan was no longer wearing a shirt….or pants…

You pressed your lips together in a hard line, wanting nothing more than to shake him awake and immediately demand an explanation, but you didn’t. This hadn't been the first time you had woken up with Logan next to you…. although it was a first for him to be sparsely clothed. 

Instead, and in spite of yourself, you settled more comfortably against him, tucking your head under his chin and closed your eyes, letting the heat radiating from him lull you back to sleep.

***

The sun streamed in through the window far too early, and you cursed yourself for not remembering to close the curtains the night before. 

You tried to roll over on your back and were met with a wall of resistance. Very warm resistance. 

You shifted with a scoff, reaching to shove him. 

“God, get off me, you're so hot” you whined, trying in vain to move away. 

A grunt of response over your shoulder as Logan stirred awake. “Fuck” he growled, shielding his eyes from the light against your shoulder. 

“That's what you get for drinking half the bar” you quipped, immediately gasping with surprise as his teeth found purchase in that same shoulder and you twisted away, turning to face him. 

“Don’t bite me you weirdo” 

He smirked sleepily with a shrug “Didn't seem to mind it much last time”

“Last time doesn't count” you muttered and he snorted with a laugh

“Just because you say it doesn't count doesn't mean it didn't happen”

“Shut up” you snapped, attempting to pull yourself up out of bed, and failing; Logan's strong arm keeping you pinned against his chest. “You were drunk” 

“If memory serves, so were you” he whispered 

“Yeah well,” you shrugged against him “That’s the thing about memories isn’t it?” 

He sighed against your neck, his warm breath causing your skin to ripple with goosebumps

You closed your eyes and sighed as his fingertips toyed lazily with the fabric of your t-shirt “Logan” you breathed and he hummed questioningly against the hollow behind your ear

“Don’t,” you sighed heavily “W-we can’t” 

Another hum as you turned your head and the tip of his nose dragged along the line of your jaw.

“Logan…” you repeated; noses nearly touching at this point 

“Why not?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours as he spoke 

You could feel your whole body flush with heat as you swallowed hard; mustering up enough willpower to push him back gently by the shoulders; his brown eyes searching your face. 

“Because we said we wouldn’t, remember?” your voice was soft, but the words were shaky, you were on the verge of cracking and you had no doubt he knew it. You needed to move, needed to get out from under the delicious weight of his torso, needed to put space between you….

You cleared your throat and wriggled out from under his arm, throwing the blanket back as you clumsily got to your feet. 

“C’mon,” he coaxed, propped on an arm “We’re both adults” 

“Yes, exactly” you nodded in agreement as you turned away, pushing your hair back off your face “Adults who make informed sober decisions” 

“I prefer your drunken decisions” 

“You would” you scoffed “Get out of my bed”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Will you shut up about last time?!”  You snapped

“You’re bitchy in the morning” he mumbled climbing out of the bed on the other side. 

“That’s rich coming from you” you rolled your eyes in spite of facing away from him as you pulled on a pair of jeans from the night before.

You came around the end of the bed, pushing around him as you pulled open the drawer to your dresser, digging for a clean shirt before looking up at him “Turn around” 

He scrunched his nose slightly “Why?”

“What do you think this is, a peep show?” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before” 

“Oh my god” you rolled your eyes again and Logan just shrugged

“Well it isn’t” 

You sighed, not really having time to argue, you pulled your t-shirt over your head, dropping it on the floor at your feet. You looked up at Logan and he wasn’t looking back, you had been ready to give him shit until you noticed his eyes were fixed on your collarbone, and the ugly scar that disappeared under your bra strap. You pulled the clean shirt on, the scar covered underneath…at least most of the way; half an inch or so still poked out from under the deep v of your shirt. Logan’s eyes hadn’t moved. 

“It’s fine” you spoke softly, snapping him from his thoughts and he met your eye. His usual grumpy scowl was more of a pout. “It’s fine” you repeated 

He just grunted in response and you made to move around him to finish getting ready. “Everyone knows I shouldn’t be allowed around sharp objects” you joked with a gasp as he grabbed your wrist as you walked by, stopping you from going any further and turning you to face him. He towered over you, the man was unnaturally large…you often wondered how you managed to haul him up here multiple nights a week by yourself. 

He hadn’t pulled you against him, but he stood close…too close. 

The hand not holding your wrist slowly reached to push back the collar of your shirt, exposing more of your scar. Your free hand reached to close over his, keeping it in place. 

The room was quiet for a beat before you spoke again, neither of you moved. 

“That’s not why” you whispered; you were looking at him, but he was looking at the jagged raised skin across your collarbone. 

You curled your fingers around his hand still resting against your chest. “I figured you would have forgotten” your voice still soft 

His eyes met yours then, no hint of humor in his features. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled gently “I lived” 

“Barely” he finally spoke 

“Well that’s what I get for trying to wake Edward Scissorhands from a nightmare” 

He just glared 

“Come on grump,” you changed the subject turning toward the door “Put some clothes on, you owe me breakfast” 

“Owe you?” he repeated, letting you walk away 

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning to look over your shoulder as you stood in the doorway “And I know most places have a pretty lax dress code, but I don’t think yellow boxer briefs are gonna cut it” 

***

Despite having gone your separate ways after breakfast, Logan found his way back to his favourite bar stool by nine thirty. You watched him reach over the bar top and grab the bowl of peanuts you kept tucked underneath for when he inevitably showed his face. He had changed, you noticed, swapping the red flannel he’d had on this morning for a blue one. 

You handed the guy across from you his change as he blatantly looked down the front of your top and you fought the urge to deck him as he dropped a twenty on the bartop. 

“So..uh,” he started and you would bet it took every ounce of strength he had in him to meet your gaze “What time do you get off?” 

You laughed lightly taking the money off the bar and shook your head “No thanks” 

“What?” he pressed, “You got like a boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something” you smiled politely 

“Well he’s not here is he?” the guy tried again 

“Well,” you shrugged, scrunching your nose and glanced down the bar before looking back to him. 

“That guy?” his face twisting in disapproval as he looked down the bar at Logan who was finishing off his first round of peanuts. “You know who that is don’t you?” 

You raised your eyebrows, straightening your stance 

“He-”

“You can leave now” you cut him off “Thank you” 

“But-” he looked from you down to Logan and back at you 

“What can I say,” you smiled “I like ‘em sloppy” 

The guy opened his mouth to say something more and thought better of it, closing it again. 

“Wise choice” you rolled your eyes before turning on your heel and making your way down to the end of the bar where Logan sat. 

“Fancy meeting you here” you smiled setting his usual glass in front of him and refilling the empty bowl 

He took the glass, nearly draining it before putting it back down “You changed” 

You laughed lightly with a shrug, handing him the whiskey bottle. “This outfit gets me better tips” 

He looked up with a raised eyebrow as you gently tossed the twenty you’d just been given on the bar in front of him. “Doesn’t have pockets though, hold on to that for me, would you?” 

“What do I look like, a bank?” he grumbled 

“No,” you smirked “But I owe you” 

His eyes narrowed again as he studied your face “You’re giving me your tip money?” 

“No,” you said again 

“But you owe me?” he asked, lines in his forehead deepening 

You giggled, walking around the bar, intentionally walking too close to where he sat, brushing against his broad shoulder. You knew you were flirting with disaster, but you had started to regret not taking him up on his offer this morning….against your better judgment…and getting under Logan’s skin was so easy, sober or not. 

“Stop it” he warned 

You stopped mid stride, chest purposefully pressed against his shoulder. “What?” 

He glared and you smirked “You're so easy to rile” you teased, messing up his hair  “I thought it was nothing you haven't seen before”

“You wanna play this game?” He narrowed his eyes 

“Who's playing?” You leaned to whisper next to his ear. 

He growled and you giggled before walking away to make your rounds.

[isoldewas]

fic: you’ll be queen to me not wife

Halbrand’s mouth falls open. A flash of teeth there, a wild bright thing against the contorted lines of his face. No word comes to fruition. Like he’s afraid to break a spell he’d inadvertently cast.

[sassytommykinard]

promise me that you'll hold me close

It's me again! There might be a lot of these fics, I'm not gonna lie. This is a gift for @talktonytome, who posted an angsty Tommy post that I couldn't let stand. 😛

So, for anyone who doesn't know, November 10th is Lou's birthday, so for the sake of this, it's Tommy's birthday too.

Title from Stargazing by Myles Smith.

Hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 1.9k - Rating: T - complete

8x06 fix-it fic

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice pops through his thoughts and he looks up to see him and Howie looking at him in concern. He sort of hates that, but is also grateful adding to the confusion about how he feels tonight. “Sorry,” he says, leaning forward and taking a sip of his beer, which is pretty good actually. It’s hard to find craft beers he isn’t picky about. Evan used to gently tease him about it. Just thinking that makes a pang of hurt strike through his heart. “I’m good.” Eddie and Howie look at each other in unison. “No, you’re not,” Eddie says, setting his beer down. “We had hoped to distract you tonight, but it’s not working is it? Come on, man, you’re 40 today.”

Read on Ao3

tag list (please let me know if you'd like to be removed):

@desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @esendoran

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley, @cliophilyra, @actuallyitsellie, @thecarrott

@talktonytome, @misstommykinard, @the-omniscient-narrator, @bobbinsnash, @a-mel0n

@hyperfocusthusly, @mayorjack, @marvelousbuckley, @swagmaster9k

@byunbuckjunmy, @rutathenurse

[tookaperegrin]

Tags from masteri-0:

headcanon that shen qingqiu (yuan) once yanked his plate away when someone reached for it and yue qingyuan got all teary eyed about it because his xiao jiu still has food insecurities and the memory loss must have made it worse, and he keeps getting shen yuan snacks and treats that he can squirrel away because yue qingyuan knows what it's like to worry about where your next meal comes from, and he's trying to help by ensuring that shen qingqiu is never without

meanwhile shen yuan has never truly been hungry but he did have two older brothers and a younger sister who would shamelessly steal things from his plate when they grew up and the instinct to protect his food has never left him so he WILL bite someone when they reach for his protagonist-made spring rolls

[petravendetta]