#and abbys like oh really and buck holds up his fingers and is like maybe a little

[hippolotamus]

another installment of what I'm calling the cleopatra series. this time from Eddie's POV because I got in my Buddie feels. part 1 here 💙

late for the love of my life | 7x06 Coda | 912 words | G

“Hey, how was it?” Marisol wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a peck on the lips. 

Eddie barely suppresses the urge to flinch and turn away. Which is maybe a tad dramatic, except for the way it isn’t. Because the past 24 hours have held more than a few revelations. None of which Eddie is ready to share. 

Despite the layers of clothing between them, his skin tingles and crawls where she touches him. If he didn’t have years of experience being exposed to fluids, substances and people he didn’t want anywhere near him, he thinks he would have wrenched away from her by now. No, he definitely would have. But he’s a professional at hiding his personal reactions, both on and off the job. 

Yes, he’s made progress in therapy, but the instincts to hide himself, to put up walls and masks, are still easily activated. Handy for moments like now, when he can’t escape his girlfriend. Or when he has to smile big for the crowd and pretend the perpetual feelings for his best friend don’t exist when said best friend barrels back into the room all lovestruck and covered in soot from his boyfriend. 

“It was good. Really nice, actually.” That much is true. Because it was. Honestly, the whole hospital room chic was perfectly Maddie and Chim. 

“Nice?” She asks in a teasing tone, squeezing tighter and clinging to his torso like a koala. 

His breathing is acceptably even but the urge to peel her off, to tell her that she should probably go home because his heart rate is skyrocketing, his fingers and toes are tingling, and he’s beginning to feel claustrophobic is anything but. His built in panic mode suspects there isn’t enough Jell-o in the universe to undo this. Again, dramatic, but he thinks he’s within his rights to think so right now. 

“Yeah, I-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut and inhales as deeply as he can manage. “Y’know, I’m, uh, still feeling a little worse for wear from last night. I should-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, just points vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. 

Marisol’s relaxed ‘welcome home’ look turns concerned as she furrows her brow and holds the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay? I should probably stay over in case you need–” 

“Really,” he interjects, backing out of her hold, “I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off, I think. You should go. Home. To your place.” Smooth, Diaz. “I mean, because I’ll probably be restless, y’know?”

“I can sleep on the cou-”

“No,” he says more forcefully than intended. He should be grateful she wants to stay and take care of him. He should. He is. But not the couch. Not… Buck’s bed. His place. Their place.

“Oh.” She takes a step back and he should probably feel worse about the way she looks so dejected. “I, um, I understand. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, talk tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to reset. When the twin alcohol and love hangovers have hopefully, finally died off. When I’m not seeing an endless mental projection reel of reminders like Or, y’know, you could have mine. Then why are you in hospital jail? Stay with me, Buck. Him choking on blood. You saved him. Abby. His fiancee is Abby. Showoff. My blood on him. Hey, Buck. You think you’re expendable. They’re all dead. I, uh, misunderstood the assignment. Three minutes and seventeen seconds. She sees me. It was a date. 

The front door clicks in the latch and he immediately turns the deadbolt, noting how his pulse drops to a debatably more normal range. He wants to settle on the couch, under the covers in his bed, both and neither all at the same time. In the end he migrates to the kitchen, which really shouldn’t surprise him. 

He runs his fingers over the backs of the chairs, circling around until he’s standing between the table and main counter. Am I one of the things that makes you sad? So now am I allowed to ask how you are? But you do eventually - you process it? 

Eddie turns toward the fridge, drawn to Shannon’s photo. He plucks it from under the magnet, running his thumb over the glossy print. 

“Can never quite get my timing down, can I?” He huffs out a wet chuckle. “God, I wish you were here right now. I could really use someone to talk to.” 

If it wasn’t after midnight he would probably drive himself to the cemetery to sit on the stone bench. To talk to someone that can’t talk back but would nonetheless tell him what an idiot he is. To unfairly water her grave with tears shed because he always thinks he has more time. You might have noticed I almost died. Again. And then I thought, this is it. This is the last day of my life. We’re all going to die alone. That’s what she said to me and Hen. 

Truthfully he’s not sure who he’s thinking of more — Shannon or Buck — as he slides to the floor, still clutching her picture, beginning to sob and shake as the words I love you so much flash like a neon reminder of his poor timing. Does it really matter? Because either way he’s missed his chance. 

But I guess it’s your mess now. 

Part 3 (Buck's POV)

[henswilsons]

EVAN BUCKLEY in EVERY EPISODE OF 9-1-1            → 1.06: Heartbreaker

[hotdamnhunnam]

Congrats again on 2K. i’m so happy for you ❤️

For the emojis: 🔥☕️🚧

For the character: Jax, i feel like those emojis have a Jax vibe

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats! 💗

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Roadblocks Don’t Suck

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, car sex (quick & rough, light choking, Jax’s leather gloves (they’re a whole kink)) Word Count: ~1.4k Emoji Prompt: 🔥☕️🚧 (key words are in bold)

Jax Teller is a lot of things. Pussy-whipped isn’t one of them, but somehow when you ask for things he gives in to a ton of them. On some level in his alpha male soul that sort of stings.

He’s in the driver’s seat grumpy and grumbling like a five-year-old. You’re really in the driver’s seat with all the power that you hold, over the prince of Charming, destined to be king.

He lights a cigarette. The little flame matches his mood flickering sharply with resentment and regret, that he had caved to what you said.

“How’s your goddamn coffee,” he snaps, bitter and full of sass. Gruffly, to hide the fact that you can turn him into such a goddamn softie.

“It’s fucking lovely,” you proclaim, taking another sip and gloating without shame. This morning you’d asked Jax to drive your car to where the two of you are headed, rather than taking his Harley as he typically prefers instead. You wanted to sit comfortably with your coffee and finish up the book you’ve almost fully read.

He doesn’t know yet you were also hoping you could give him road head.

“Fuck!” Jax suddenly rasps as he steps on the brake just when you reach the end of your book, causing you to look up out the windshield in shock. It’s just a bit of bad traffic but your man sounds as furious as if your car was hit by a damn truck. “Ugh, there’s a fucking roadblock. This shit fucking sucks.”

Jax really just can’t deal with traffic at a standstill. He is seething, heavy breathing, living proof that looks can kill.

Glimpse flashing lights and obstacles with slanted black and yellow stripes to mark construction that’s in progress up ahead. Prince Fuming grits his bright white teeth around his cigarette like he wants someone dead. Possibly you. “See, bitch if we were on my bike I could’ve just driven right through…”

“Would you just stop? Here, I’ll give you a handjob,” you decide, casting your finished paperback off to the side. Sometimes—a lot of times—you’d rather make Jax Teller cum than hear him talk. “Shut up, just sit back and enjoy your smoke and let me stroke your cock.”

“What are we, fifteen-year-old kids? You’ll grab my dick and let me grope your tits?” he laughs, as you reach in his jeans to grip and squeeze his massive shaft. “Get down and suck.”

You take your hands out of his pants and cross your arms over your chest tightly, to tell him no such luck. “Maybe I would have if you’d asked nicely, you bossy little fuck.”

“You love it when I’m bossy.” Jax is well aware that his dominance gets you wet and juicy. “Know it hits you in your kinky little pussy.”

“You don’t know shit about my kinks,” you lie.

“You think?” he challenges with a dark glimmer in his eye. The heat of hell behind his smile. Glances out the window at the standstill traffic and decides to put the car in park so he can make this goddamn ride worthwhile.

Asking nicely isn’t really Jax’s style.

You can act like you don’t want it but there’s no point in denial. Every goddamn thing about him drives you wild.

When he wants something he takes it—bends your will to fight him off and fucking breaks it—snaps a finger and you’re naked—he makes sure you want it wholeheartedly too—but that shit’s never hard to do.

He always has you spouting off a senseless stream of oh God Jesus Christ Jax yes fuck yes in two seconds or less. Knows he’s your ever-living weakness. Face you see when you scream Jesus. Knows you’re his to play with any way he pleases. Knows just what buttons to press, to get his girl to be a wet whimpering mess.

Has you spread out on the backseat, shaking in heat, as he strips off your summer dress. Stays fully clothed because he knows it’s fucking torture when he doesn’t let you cleave against the smooth skin of his chest. Settle for clutching at the leather of his vest. The leather Jax Teller wears best.

Or is it…? Though you’ve never mentioned this before, Jax saw the sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours, when you watched his hands on the steering wheel clad in his leather gloves and thought that shit’s fucking exquisite.

To be honest it’s ridiculous that he’d wear leather gloves to drive a car. Today’s ride isn’t even far. You know it’s just so he can feel more like he’s riding on his Harley and it’s dumb as fuck but you don’t care about that given what a slut you are. Jax in the leather of his kutte is hot enough—but these damn gloves… they have you seeing fucking stars…

You’d wanted him to push your head deep in his lap while you bent down to suck him off. Feeling the smooth warmth of the leather in your hair and on your cheeks as you devoured his enormous cock and showered it with love.

He’d like that very fucking much, without a doubt, but in this moment he would rather see your gorgeous glowing face than have it buried in his crotch. More in the mood to fuck your pussy than your mouth. He wants to watch, the way your inner slut is spinning out—surrenders to his touch… the way your features melt, descending into ecstasy past anything you’ve ever fucking felt… as he traces his thumb across your bottom lip with one hand while the other frames your hips—taking you in his leather grip—tight as a belt, sharp as a whip.

And it’s insane the way it makes your pussy drip. Your brain is on a fucking trip. Can leather get you fucking pregnant? On the road the traffic’s still completely stagnant, but your man will have to get back in the driver’s seat again soon once the cars begin to move. There’s not a lot of time to get into the groove. No time for fun and games and foreplay—just a frantic feral fuck here on the freeway—love and lust one and the same to make and take when you two have nothing to prove.

Outside of sex, you know that it’s your job as Jax Teller’s old lady to continually kick his ego down a couple pegs. But it’s a different fucking story when he’s hovering above you and all set to shove his meat into the aching soaking heat between your legs.

A piece of prey for him to eat. To read your body as it breaks and burns and begs. Jax is the undisputed king when he has you spread in his bed or the backseat. And as his leather-clad hand wraps around your throat you gasp at how it feels so sweet because you know what’s coming next…

He applies just the perfect pressure and oh fuck you’ve never felt such perfect pleasure.

You can feel his power pouring through the leather. You can feel it pounding through your blood, as he plows deep inside your pulsing cunt, that fucking instant, with a savage fucking grunt, rock hard as he drives home and hits a flood, ‘cause you’ve never been wetter. You’re his fucking slut. Forever.

Two or three bucks of his hips—he sucks the prayer of his name off of your lips—tightens that leather fucking grip—your grip on consciousness begins to fucking slip…

Just came undone, though this had only just begun. He spills inside you that same second and you’re both sprawled on the seat sex-dumb and drunk.

Two seconds later all the cars outside decide to fucking honk.

He really doesn’t give a fuck. You’re both so bulldozed by the love you made you probably wouldn’t notice if this steamy little car of yours got totaled by a truck. Honk all they want for all you care—the two of you are far beyond the world out there—you’re stuck in heaven with no plans to come unstuck.

Maybe try fucking one more time to piss off everyone outside and push your luck.

Jax reads your mind because it’s his. Leather glove soft around your throat now as he smiles through a cigarette-and-coffee-flavored kiss. “Maybe roadblocks don’t suck.”

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

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[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Evan Buckley / Anything For You

Prompt: it’s your first time meeting Buck’s family (the 118) since you started dating, and you’re not going in unprepared (baking with buck) 

Word Count: 1,263

Warnings: spoilers for 2x11 (one line lmao), 

“Tell me again,” Buck steals a bit of icing from the bowl with his finger, “why are we doing this?” 

“Because we are going over to Bobby and Athena’s place for a party, and Maddie told you it’s never good to go over empty-handed,” you swat his finger away a second time, “and I don’t want to go over empty-handed the first time I meet your family.”

You know Buck had a rocky relationship with his parents — understatement of the year really — but his family, his real family, were his team, the people who protected him every day, and the ones who brought him home — through literal hell and back. 

“You’ve met them before,” he reminds you, as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest, his words rumbling against you, “they love you already."  

Visiting Buck at the firehouse was different when he was just a friend — a neighbor who had your back when you were locked out of your apartment, when he was your friend, when he was your best friend — but he was so much more than that now, “But not since we…” 

He presses a kiss to your neck, “Since we got together a few weeks ago? I don't think they forgot how amazing you are in a month," He smiles against your skin, as he squeezes your hips, "and last night was particularly memorable." 

"Buck—" you turn and he's kissing you, his palm warm against your cheek, the spoon slipping from your fingers, as he presses you into the counter. 

He pulls away, his breath warm against your lips, as his finger tilt your chin up, his gaze gentle, "They love you and this is not gonna change that," his fingers interlace with yours, "but Chim might be disappointed I stole his movie watching buddy from him," 

And you roll your eyes, bumping him with your hip, “I think he’ll live,” the man had lived twice through rebar and a stabbing — there wasn’t much that could beat him thankfully, “We could always double date,” 

“May I remind you that you watch those movies with Chim because both of you are a little unbearable when you’re together?” 

“That’s because he has bad movie opinions—” you poke Buck’s chest and you know he’s biting back a smile, “he does! He thinks Empire Strikes Back is better than Return of the Jedi—” 

“You know for a second, I forgot I was dating a nerd,” he remarks, and you mock scowl at him. 

“Well maybe after that remark, maybe you aren’t,” you shove him playfully, before seeing his expression flicker, “Buck—I was joking,” 

“I know,” he’s shaking, his head, plastering a smile on his lips, “of course—” 

“No, Buck,” you hold his face, tilting your head as his smile wavers, the mask slipping again, “you don’t have to hide from me,” 

“I—” his gaze drops, “I just have had too many people leave me, and—” he breaks off, swallowing, “and I don’t want to lose my best friend too.” 

You know what he means — his parents were lost to him the day he was born it seemed, Maddie had left him for a time, his girlfriends — especially Abby — had all left at one point or another, and it looked like he thought you would too. But you wouldn’t. 

Not ever. 

“Oh, Evan,” you whisper, “you’re not going to lose me — I’m sorry, it was a bad joke. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon — I—” you swallow the affirmation of love, lodged in your throat — it was too soon, wasn’t it? Sure, you had known him for two years, been his best friend for at least one of them — but you were only together barely a month. Too soon, “I care about you, so much, I—” you shake your head, “I can’t put it in words.” 

“I do too,” he licks his lips, “I’m sorry when you said that, I — the thought of you leaving and I just—” 

Your thumb brushes his cheek, as he leans into your touch, his gaze rising to meet yours, “I’m scared to lose you too — I think that’s why I was so scared to start this in the first place, even though I wanted to, for so long,” 

He furrows his brow, lips twitching upwards, “You did?” 

“Well yeah, Buck,” you huff out a chuckle, as his gaze softens, “you’re pretty damn irresistible,” you press a kiss to his lips, swallowing his shaky sigh, “kind, brave, sweet, a bit reckless — but you never give up, and you always believe the best in others,” your hands wind around his neck, “I only wish you could do the same for yourself,” 

And he swallows, “I don’t know what to say—” 

“You don’t have to say anything—” 

“I know that I think I love you,” and he’s biting his lip, “and it might be too soon to say that — but I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I wanted this — I wanted us for so long,” and his lips are curling in a small smile, “I just never thought it’d happen.” 

You blink a moment, mouth parted, until you find your words, “Well it did, and I love you too,” and he’s smiling as he kisses you, his hands sliding down your sides, as he tugged you somehow closer, his forehead brushing against yours, before leaning in for another kiss, until your finger smears a line of frosting down his face, “and I need to get back to baking these cupcakes—” you grin at his shocked expression, turning to face the counter, not seeing the devious smirk on his face. 

“Oh, really now?” he says, grabbing you by the waist, and lifting you away from the bowl, taking a fingerful as you shrieked for him to set you down, laughing, as he swiped the pad of his finger down your cheek. 

“Evan—” 

“Don’t ‘Evan’ me,” he replies, as you squirm in his arms, “you started this war, and I’m gonna finish it—” he licks the frosting off your cheek, as you squeal. 

“I give, I give!” you laugh, as he spins you around in his arms, “put me down,” and he does, self-satisfied smirk on his lips, “you play dirty,” 

“I never said I didn’t,” he tilts your chin up, “and you didn’t seem to mind that before—” and you cut him off, licking the frosting from his cheek this time, biting back your smile as he blinks, wide eyed. 

“You were saying?” 

And his eyes darken for a moment, his breath catching, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he leans down again— 

And then the oven timer goes off. 

"The cupcakes are done," and you're slipping from his side, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you slide past him and towards the oven. He watches you as you carefully pull the tray of cupcakes out. 

And he sighs, before smiling as he moves to pull out the tray from a cabinet, lips curling at the sight of your brow furrowing as you scrutinize the cupcakes, until glancing up at him, tilting your head at his smile, “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, biting back his grin, as you remain unconvinced. 

“Alright, ‘nothing,’ can you grab the cooling rack for me? It’s in—” 

“Third cabinet from the right,” he replies, pulling the rack and placing it in front of you, before pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

"Anything for you." 

Because he knew you'd do anything for him. 

[somebodycall911onabc]

More post 4x13, Maddie-centric, a little Madney, a little Buddie. I just want her to be happy. Warning for a lot of emotions in this one, folks.

Maddie is elbow deep in soapy water when her phone starts ringing. She tells Hildy to answer (being a parent has definitely taught her the wonders of technology, unlike Eddie) while she shuts off the tap and reaches for the dish towel.

“Hello?” She asks, seeing Chimney’s name scrawled across the screen. It’s been two hours since he last called—not concerning, but a deviation from the usual.

“Maddie. Are you OK? How’s Jee?”

A bad call, maybe. He could’ve lost someone.

“We’re good,” Maddie says, stealing herself. She hates to lie to him, but she’s being honest in the way he means. They’re not hurting in any way he can fix.

He breathes out a whistling breath over the phone. “Good. Good. Thank God.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, I mean. I’m fine. But… Jesus…” He mutters something too low for her to hear. “It’s Eddie. He’s in the hospital — alive — but, but he got… he was shot, clean through the shoulder. Some psycho opened fire on the LAPD.”

Maddie’s heart drops to her stomach, where it stays for another hour until Chimney walks through their door. She’s holding Jee-Yun, who’s wailing like her little lungs are about to give out, but she and Chimney find each other like magnetic poles. She steps into his arms and wishes that the whole world could just drop away. Just her, and Chimney, and their daughter. That would be enough.

“It’s all over the news,” Maddie says. Jee-Yun seems to have been stunned into silence by the unexpected arrival of her dad.

“Athena says they’ve got some of the best people in the department on it,” Chimney says. “They’re gonna catch him.”

“They’d better.”

“Yeah well, otherwise, they’re going to have Amateur Detective Buck on their hands again.”

Jee-Yun starts hiccuping, picking up where she left off, and Chimney steps back to lift her out of Maddie’s arms. She lets go without a fight. She’s so tired of fighting.

“Don’t even joke about that. I’m sure he’s losing his mind—he hasn’t answered any of my calls or messages.”

Chimney attempts a smile. Or maybe all along he’d been going for that twisted grimace. “Bobby’s corralling him, don’t worry. Your brother isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Like drag Athena into an active investigation to chase down the man who stabbed you and kidnapped me?”

“Yeah,” Chimney says. “Exactly like that.”

Maddie turns her head to look out the window. She knows what he’s going to say in answer to her question, and she can’t bring herself to look at him when he does. “So what are you all going to do? What happens when someone targets the entire Las Angeles Fire Department?”

“Our jobs,” he says, and Maddie closes her eyes. “We have to, Maddie. We called in C-shift today, but we go back tomorrow.”

“OK,” Maddie hears herself say. What else can she do? How can she tell him that she’s afraid they’ve avoided tragedy one too many times, that she can see them all running to the end of a line, nothing but a long fall below them?

She feels like someone froze half of her in ice, then told the other half to run for her life. She feels fathoms deep in very dark water, but someone is screaming in her ear to swim up, up, up.

When Chimney pulls on the bullet-proof vest, Maddie doesn’t say anything. The human throat wasn’t made for the drawn-out scream inside her head.

Maddie doesn’t visit Eddie while he’s at the hospital. Between Jee-Yun and her own shifts at work, there isn’t time. She feels a little bad about that, but despite their small social circle, she and Eddie haven’t gotten that close over the years. Buck takes up all the air and space when he’s around, a wildfire that she and Eddie chase around and keep from burning up the furniture. But Maddie feels like she should have been there while Eddie was confined to a hospital bed, watching his friends risk the same fate as him when they pulled on their uniforms—she feels a sort of kinship with him. With that helplessness.

So she shows up at his door a week later with Jee-Yun and dinner.

Buck lets her in, which has ceased to be surprising as a general rule, but seems a little suspicious in these circumstances. She hasn’t heard anyone mention Ana’s name since the shooting.

“Jee-Jee!” Buck shouts, whisking Jee-Yun from Maddie’s arms.

“Oh, hi, how are you,” she mutters, watching Buck as he kisses Jee-Yun’s nose and grins. He looks like he needs a long shower and an even longer nap. But Jee-Yun giggles at him as he makes faces and smacks his lips. It’s sweet. It only hurts a little, seeing how good Buck is with her, when sometimes Maddie still thinks of him as that little kid she stitched up every time the world knocked him down. It only hurts a little that for Maddie, getting Jee-Yun to smile is like pulling out her own teeth with rusty pliers (i.e., really goddamn difficult).

“Hey, Maddie,” Eddie says, reaching the door. He nudges Buck aside to make room for Maddie to come in. “It’s good to see you.”

Maddie looks at his cast, at the way Eddie hunches in on himself and the blue-black bruises beneath his eyes from exhaustion and blunt-force head trauma, and feels so goddamn guilty. She should have come sooner. She should have tried harder.

“Hey,” she replies, wiggling the takeout bag, “I come with nourishment.”

“By all means,” Eddie says, sweeping his hand out to the hallway. Maddie leads the way to the kitchen, Eddie slumping behind her, Buck cooing at Jee-Yun and somehow managing not to walk into a wall.

“I figured something light and healthy would be best,” Maddie says, dropping the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much doctor’s orders,” Eddie agrees. He peeks inside the canvas tote and pulls out a container, opening it up to reveal a big, green salad. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“It was no problem—“ Maddie starts, but she realizes Eddie is wrinkling his nose in disgust, not gratitude. “Oh, shut up and eat your veggies. There’s chicken in it,” she adds with a laugh.

“Where?” Eddie snorts, eyeing the salad like it might come to life and strangle him with leafy hands.

“Chris! Guess who’s here!” Buck, who hasn’t heard a word of their conversation, barrels into the living room where Chris is sitting on the floor with a host of action figures.

“Don’t—don’t let her put anything in her mouth!” Maddie calls after him.

Eddie chuckles and takes a seat at the table. “How’s it going with her? With Chimney?”

“Us?” Maddie keeps her eye on the living room situation while she sits down across from Eddie. “We’re fine. How are you? Buck seems to be living in your back pocket lately.”

“Yeah, he’s been…” Eddie trails off, and Maddie glances over to see him looking at the living room. She turns her eyes back to see Buck sitting cross-legged on the floor, cradling Jee-Yun while showing Chris her tiny fingers. The first time he held Jee-Yun, Buck had lost his mind over her fingernails. They’re so small, he’d said reverently. How could anything be so small?

“I wouldn’t be here without him,” Eddie finishes. “I think I’m going to ask him to move in.” The way he says it isn’t a joke, isn’t something light-hearted about being down an arm or how Buck is free labor. He sounds contemplative. Wondrous.

“Oh,” Maddie says. “But what about… I mean, won’t that be kind of weird for Ana?”

“Buck didn’t tell you?” Eddie asks, turning back to face her and fishing a fork out of the bag. “Ana broke up with me.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I know. But it wasn’t like what happened with Chimney. Ana had the guts to say it to my face.”

“Jesus, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was the right call. I’m not upset, actually.” Eddie pokes around the container until he finds a piece of chicken, throwing Maddie a smile as he picks it up. “It was the easiest breakup I’ve ever had.”

“Well, that’s… good.” Maddie pulls the bag toward her and lifts out her own salad. She’d gotten Chris chicken fingers and fries, but Eddie doesn’t have to know that. Not until he finishes his grown-up, post-ballistic-surgery food. “Then should I ask what your intentions are towards my brother?”

Eddie chokes on his lettuce. She flashes him a smile while he struggles to swallow. “He is a strapping young man,” she adds. “Very… able-bodied.”

“You’re evil,” Eddie says, laughing.

“No, just observant,” she counters. “Every time I called Buck this week, he was either with you or Chris.”

“I keep telling you people that Buck’s suspension wasn’t my fault. I was unconscious when it happened.”

“All I’m saying is, my brother wouldn’t risk losing his job for just anyone.”

“You think so?” Eddie asks, smiling down at the table.

Maddie takes a delicate bite of spinach and pomegranate seed. “My brother spent a long time running, Eddie. I always thought he was just running away, but he was running toward something. The 118 is his family. But you and Chris are special. He would bleed himself dry if it meant keeping the two of you safe.”

Eddie’s fork is paused halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t take advantage of that,” Maddie says. “If you can’t say the same for him, you need to let him go. I’ve seen him hurt too many times, Eddie.” And she doesn’t mean just Abby—she means their parents. She watched Buck drag himself through hell for a love he shouldn’t have had to fight for. She means herself, too, because she knows that the years he spent thinking she’d chosen Doug over him had cut him deeper than she had any chance of healing. Even now that he knows the truth, there’s a scar.

“You’re a good sister.” Eddie lowers his fork and meets her eyes. “I wasn’t really expecting the shovel talk a week after getting shot, but I promise you that I feel the same.”

“Well, good,” she says. Then, “Oh god, I really did corner you while you’re—I apologize. That was thoughtless and rude of me.”

Eddie just laughs. “Please, Shannon was a wreck the whole first year. She actually forgot my birthday.”

“Oh, Chimney would never let that happen,” Maddie says, feeling a genuine, soft smile cross her face. This is the first time in a week she hasn’t felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. It’s an unexpected, but welcome, break. “He starts dropping hints at least three months in advance.”

“I wasn’t really around to remind her,” Eddie says. “That’s my biggest regret, really. Not being around more when Chris was little.”

Ah, there’s the familiar, soul-crushing weight of the world again. It was a nice minute, while it lasted. “It must have been hard to be away from him. I can’t even imagine…” Maddie swallows, but her food tastes sour, acrid. She can imagine. She has. She’s fantasized. About walking out the door. About not coming back.

“That’s the thing,” Eddie says, “it kind of... I mean, I missed him, and I missed Shannon. And now? I would rather get shot a thousand times than leave Chris. But at the time, it was easy. Ridiculously, insanely easy.”

Maddie watches as Eddie runs his hand through his hair, a twisted smile taking over his face. “What kind of fucking father chooses a war zone over his own wife and kid, you know? I kept telling myself it was for them, it was for us. But really I was just scared. I was terrified of it, of being a husband, a father. I didn’t know how to be those things.”

There’s something unfolding inside Maddie’s chest. An old hurt, an old fear, unraveling for her to finally grasp at its edges and see the bloody, wretched mess. “I don’t either,” she admits. She hasn’t said that to anyone. Not Buck, not Athena, not Josh. Certainly not her parents. Because that thing inside her, that little girl curled in on herself to hide away her broken heart—her parents had a lot to do with it. “I’m so scared. All the time. She’s tiny, and perfect, and I’m… I’m not good enough.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Eddie says.

“No,” Maddie says. “I’m going to ruin her, Eddie. I’m a horrible mother. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this.”

“Whoah, whoah.” Eddie reaches his hand across the table to grip hers, tight. Maddie raises her other hand to her face to wipe her eyes. “You’re doing great, Maddie. You’re really good with her.”

“No, I’m not. Not really. I mean, Buck is more of a natural at this than I am.” He’s in the living room, letting Jee-Yun chew on the collar of his shirt, while Chris is talking and gesturing wildly with his hands. Buck looks happy. He looks rapt, focused. All in.

“I don’t think anyone’s naturally a good parent. I think it’s supposed to be hard. That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

“I just don’t want to hurt her,” Maddie says, watching Buck, watching Jee-Yun, watching Chris. This beautiful tableau of a family that she wants so desperately to be part of.

“That’s normal. That fear is… hell, Maddie. That’s parenthood.”

“How do you deal with it? How do you walk around with that, knowing… knowing any moment, you might fail?”

Eddie tightens his hold on her hand, pulls on it slightly to bring her focus back around to him. “I’m going to tell you something I told Buck a long time ago,” he says. “You’re going to make mistakes. It’s not like there’s some test you can study for and get the perfect kid at the end. What matters is that you love them enough to keep trying.”

Maddie remembers Buck, what feels like a lifetime ago, staring down their parents. Love me anyway, he’d said. “It’s that simple?” She asks, feeling hollow. Feeling like she failed before she even crossed the starting line.

“Of course not,” Eddie says. “It’s hard work, loving someone. But you’re not in it alone, either. You’ve got all of us.”

He’s right. Maybe she can put a little bit of the load down, once in a while. Maybe she doesn’t have to be crushed by all that weight.

“I’m sorry,” she says, cracking a smile, “all we’re doing is talking about me.”

“Trust me, it’s a relief,” Eddie says, smiling back. “All anyone wants me to do is talk about how I’m feeling. I’m sick of talking about myself.”

“It’s nice to know you’re not the only one with problems?”

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

They share a raw, honest smile, and Maddie does feel a little bit lighter. “I’ll be sure to come back for more sage advice,” she says, pulling her hand away.

“Next time, bring pizza,” Eddie says. It makes Maddie laugh.

When she gets home, she puts Jee-Yun to bed and looks at her. Just takes in that fragile nose, the impossibly delicate eyelids, her perfect, untidy mouth. She thinks about how she’s been scared her whole life—of upsetting her parents, of hurting Buck, of losing Doug, of leaving Doug, of finding love.

But all those fears, they brought her here. So maybe this is just another journey, and maybe it’s OK to be scared.

When Chimney gets home the next morning, he crawls into bed with Maddie and Jee-Yun. Their daughter had started fussing at three in the morning, and now they were both exhausted. But Maddie holds on tight, holds Jee-Yun close, and when Chimney wraps his arms around them and drops a kiss into her hair, Maddie hears him say, "my two best girls. How did I get so lucky?"

And she thinks, this. This can be enough.

[justapoet]

31 + Buddie ¡!

Thank you for the prompt! I really hope you like it :)

Celebrate my 100 followers with me and send me a prompt!

I adjust the spring for you to follow me with your eyes.

read also on Ao3

Some poets say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, while others say that the darkest secrets can fit dark pupils. A few writers would agree that there is more intimacy on looking someone eye-to-eye than doing any other thing, and a few more would say that that's the biggest mistake someone can dare to make.

If being honest, the first thing Buck notices about someone is not their clothes, neither their smile nor the lack of it ― there's something about their eyes that attracts him a whole lot more than anything else. Although he would never say that out loud because he is sure no one would really believe him.

Yet, it's something he has ever done since he was a kid. It was something curious, even profound, to see how people look at things and life around them. Some would stare with a frowned face, narrowed eyes, clenched teeth. Kids would always have wide, shiny, happy faces while discovering the very same things every day. Some people would always look down, with tired eyes, ghost smiles on their faces.

With the absence of his parents in his life, Buck learned to be quiet when trying to understand things that were out of reach ― and out of touch when it comes to someone caring about him. As a boy, he learned to observe how people look at the world and how this vision makes them take steps forward or backward.

His mother looked at him with a cloud over her eyes, and it always made her take steps to get farther from the boy. His father looked at him with frowned face, as if there was something he could never say, and yet he wanted to. It took Buck almost thirty years to realize that none of them ever looked him in the eyes.

The teachers looked at him with narrowed eyes as if he was a challenge given to them; they all lived and talked around Buck but never tried to get close, to make questions, or to see him as something more than a problem, a lost cause, and a hopeless child. There was never a teacher that looked him in the eyes.

As the years passed by, Buck was happy that no one ever dared to look him in the eyes, though. He would agree with Shakespeare and his words about eyes being the windows to someone's soul, and that was the last thing he wanted anyone to have: a panoramic view of the pieces, the chaos, the loneliness. At some point, he would be the one to avoid eye contact ― but never the one not to look at the eyes first.

Sometimes, he would think that maybe it affected the relationships he had had in his life. There was never enough trust, intimacy, even love from both parts for him to trust this broken shiny part of himself ― his eyes, his observations, a free ride to his deepest despairs and conclusions.

Sometimes he would think that keeping it a secret was why he had had any relationship so far.

There were times he would simply not know anything. That night was one of those unknown times.

Buck was lying down in the grass on Eddie's backyard, arms crossed behind his head as a support while he occupied himself looking at the sky. He wasn't able to see too many stars ― it was almost impossible to happen in LA ― but something about the darkness above them could always make Bucks soul a little bit lighter to carry around. Eddie was by his side, quiet, and Christopher was fast asleep in his room after the Buckley-Diaz movie night.

"Anyone ever tells you that you've got the prettiest eyes in the world?" Eddie asked suddenly. They've been in silence for the most part of the time they've been there, even if none of them know why they ended up lying on the grass.

Buck turned his head to the side, seeing that Eddie wasn't looking at the sky ― but at him. Eddie had one of his hands over his stomach, the other stretched on the side of his body, and the softest expression on his face while staring at his boyfriend by his side. The moonlit night made sure to cover Eddie's face with a silver glow, and Buck couldn't help but feeling his stomach twist inside of his body.

He knew they were pretty much in love, they've discussed it, but just the fact that Eddie would look that way at Buck only was enough for the blonde's heart to stop racing.

Oh, God; he loved that man.

The question had gotten him off-guard, though. It wasn't something he had ever expected to hear, much less with someone staring at him the way Eddie was doing ― a so pure kind of admiration that left him speechless.

Buck moved, laying on his side and putting one of his hands under his head for support. He was face-to-face with Eddie, but his gaze was on a random spot on the grass under his nose. His answer was quiet.

"No, actually," he said, and there was an inch of sadness that, of course, Eddie couldn't avoid noticing. The man frowned a little and then copied Buck's position before analyzing his face.

"Never?" Eddie asked again as if trying to prove something to his gut. Buck kind of shrugged, then, an almost unnoticeable movement.

"No one ever looks me in the eyes," was Buck's answer, barely a whisper. "I don't think they want to know more about me than my job or my body."

Eddie frowned, and then his face was a mix of pain and disbelief. He knew what Buck was talking about ― Buck 1.0 times ―, and he knew that Buck was also thinking about Abby and Ali.

"Idiots," Eddie said instead of making questions, and Buck frowned, still not looking at him. "But I think I'm lucky, then," the wrinkle between Buck's eyebrows grew, and Eddie chuckled a little. "If they've ever looked into your eyes, I doubt they would ever dare to let you go."

"Why do you say that?" Buck asked, his voice in complete confusion. Eddie reached Buck's hand with his, tangling their fingers together since his boyfriend didn't wash him off.

"Because there's no way," he brought Buck's hand to his lips, knowing that the pair of blue eyes would follow the movement. "Someone could look into your eyes and ever want to breathe out of the blue again."

Buck didn't answer, a little bit confused, half amazed with what he'd just heard. Eddie was never good with words ― God knows that ―, and saying something like that, beyond poetic, was an upgrade. Definitely an upgrade.

He felt his heart racing, and he knew Eddie knew he'd caused something like that. Buck also knew Eddie had a soft smile on his face, and he couldn't help but smile a little bit. With an impulse of curiosity, he looked up, just to find Eddie's eyes glued to his in the next second.

Something about that was weird, and something more was barely divine. Buck's heart raced, and his stomach twisted as a warning to step back, to stop staring, but his lungs inflated, and his lips curved as in an incentive to stay as they were.

Eddie's eyes were dark, dark amber with fossilized secrets he never shared with anyone, but almost as soft as honey under the moonlight. His pupils were wide while staring at Buck, and he wasn't sure if the darkness of the night was the only reason behind it.

The silver glimmer of the moon that surrounded both men suddenly wasn't the only shiny thing over Eddie's pupils and neither over Buck's. There was something soft, barely touchable, and quite palpable that Buck couldn't reach, but Eddie could hand him easily. In Buck's eyes, there were unshed tears.

"I love you," Eddie said, smiling and letting his fingers wander over Buck's cheeks to stop the tears he knew the blonde man would let fall. "And your eyes are the prettiest ones in the world. It's almost ridiculous how blue they are, and even more how, still, you see the world with such joy."

Buck couldn't help but throwing his body forward to capture Eddie's lips in his. Eddie chuckled, holding his boyfriend's waist and bringing him closer, letting Buck say what he couldn't find the words to. His eyes, so blue and pure, were closed, but Eddie could tell that they had the same glow they always had when Buck found something new about the world.

When they parted the kiss, Buck reached Eddie's lips again, not wanting to get any farther than he could get closer to the man. Eddie only laughed again, knowing that it was something new to Buck to see himself through somebody else's eyes ― he'd been there before, and Buck was the one to show Eddie his interpretation of him.

They stood there for a while more ― only the stars they couldn't see would know how long ― with Eddie whispering how much he loved Buck and Buck curling himself against Eddie and showering kissed over the skin he could reach. There was a future amid all of that that both pair of eyes could see.

Shakespeare was right when he said that the eyes are the windows to the soul.

Buck was even more when he thought they were the doors to reach a broken heart ― and mend it back to whole.

[icarusbuck]

13. I missed this

FOX! 911

∞

Maddie dabbed the corner of her mouth and sat back with a sigh. She reached over the space between them and took Chimney's hand, squeezing it gently. He looked at her with a soft smile and squeezed back.

The table before them was scattered with empty dishes, and on the far side, Buck almost mirrored her position.

"Damn," Buck groaned, shaking his head at her. She'd gone for one of his favorites: seafood. Seared scallops on a bed of greens, with sauteed broccolini on the side. He was the best person to feed, because the best way to tell if he was being sincere was an empty plate. And he'd practically licked it clean. "That was delicious, Mads."

"Hey, I picked the wine," Chimney huffed.

Eddie leaned forward to pick up one of the bottles. He turned it, examining the label. "Yeah, you just picked the first one that suggested pairing with seafood, didn't you?"

Laughter echoed around the table as he set the bottle down.

"But seriously, Maddie. You did an amazing job." Eddie smiled warmly at her.

Buck snorted next to him. He refused to meet her gaze, and his lips were pressed together to prevent his smirk.

"Don't," she warned, glaring at him.

Chimney looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Don't what?"

Maddie gestured to Buck with her palm up. "He's about to start a fight he won't win."

"How so?" Eddie asked, looking from Buck to her and back again.

Buck sat forward in his chair as though he were readying himself for a debate. "She wasn't always this good at cooking," he said with the air of launching into a long and riveting story. He looked at her smugly. "Remember that time you set the microwave on fire?"

Maddie narrowed her eyes. She'd been twelve, and accidentally pushed the zero one too many times. Heating a burrito for two minutes and twenty minutes was a big difference, and they found out that day that food can indeed be set on fire in a microwave.

But Buck wasn't the only one with stories to tell. Maddie looked at Eddie.

"Buck once thought he didn't need water to cook pasta. Just tossed the noodles into a pot and didn't think anything of it until they started to burn."

"I was nine."

Maddie shrugged.

Buck crossed his arms. "Remember when you decided you didn't want bangs and cut them off before picture day?"

"That was first grade," Maddie warned. If he wanted to drag skeletons out of the closet, she would make sure hers weren't the only ones seeing daylight.

Buck smirked. "Yeah, and I still have the photo."

Maddie grunted her annoyance. "Okay. Remember when you thought it was a good idea to pierce your ear with a safety pin?"

"Hey, I almost lost my ear to that infection," Buck said in outrage. "How about when you crashed dad's car because you were late for curfew."

"You tried to build a bike ramp out of cardboard and cinder blocks."

Buck rose from his chair and pointed at her from across the table, his eyes sparkling. "It was particleboard, and it would have worked if I'd braced the middle of it."

Maddie stood to match him, barely holding back a grin. She leaned her hands on the table. "Well it still earned you a trip to the hospital and fourteen stitches."

"Wait, he didn't break anything?" Eddie broke in, still reclining in his chair, his wine glass in hand as he watched them.

Buck looked at him. "No, Maddie was the bone breaker. One time she jumped onto a trampoline from the roof to impress some guy and the springs snapped. In a cast for two months and a boot for two more."

"Oh please," Maddie cried, rounding the side of the table. "You got pulled over doing a hundred in a forty five with some girl in the passenger seat."

Buck snorted, smirking at the memory. "Her dad pulled us over, too. Made me do a field sobriety test."

Maddie made a noise of disgust. "You were twenty-two! You should have known better!"

"Hey, what can I say? Ladies love a daredevil." Buck shrugged and gestured toward Chimney. "Look who you're dating."

"You're one to talk," Maddie huffed. She crossed her arms. "Everyone you've slept with since you got here, you met on the job. Including Abby."

Buck's eyes narrowed. He glanced to the side and put his hands on his hips. When he looked back at her, it was with a glare.

She hesitated; was Abby still off limits? She thought he'd moved on by now, especially with whatever he had going on with Eddie, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. She held her breath until a grin broke over his serious expression and he stepped forward, sweeping her into a bear hug.

"I've missed this," he said against her shoulder. She hugged him back as his thick arms squeezed the air from her lungs. He let go and pulled back, still smiling down at her. "Nobody calls me on shit like you do."

Maddie frowned at him, wondering which of his reactions was the more authentic one. "That's because I'm your sister."

"Yeah, a sister who's given me how many bloody noses?"

She rolled her eyes. "You bleed in a stiff breeze, that doesn't make it my fault."

Buck gaped at her. "You kicked me in the face to practice your karate moves, and didn't tell me what you were doing!"

"Hey, uh, maybe we should just take a second," Chimney said.

Both siblings rounded on him with a simultaneous, "Stay out of it."

They went back at it, poking at old scars to see which ones still stung. Being the older sibling had its perks, and Maddie knew more of his sore spots than he did hers.

The fight drew to a close nearly twenty minutes later, with Maddie sitting on top of him on the dining room floor. She knew he could push her off if he really wanted to, but he let her pin his arms at his sides.

"If you don't say it, I'm going to spit on you," she growled. He couldn't stop laughing and she could feel him shaking under her.

Buck shook his head stubbornly.

"Evan Buckley, say the magic words," she said, her final warning as she leaned over him. She dug her fingers between his ribs, the only place he was actually ticklish.

He tried to squirm away from her fingers but had nowhere to go. "Okay! Fine!" he gasped, giggling almost hysterically under her. "You're the better Buckley!"

Satisfied, she sat back and patted his chest affectionately. "Good," she said, rising up off the floor. She straightened out her clothes and turned to look at Chimney. "Okay. Now we can go."

Buck stayed on the floor, his laughter slowly subsiding. Eddie got up and offered him a hand up, which he took. He wiped tears from his eyes and leaned into the arm Eddie put around his shoulders.

"Be careful, Chim. She wins every argument," Buck said, shaking his head at her.

Maddie clicked her tongue. "Only because you always lose them."

[justkending]

Are you stupid or stupid? (Drabble)

Summary: Maybe having kids do your makeup wasn’t the best for a tired babysitter.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: Just a ton of fluff that you may or may not be able to handle... :)

A/N: This is for @itsunclebucky​‘s challenge! I had the prompts: “Are you stupid or stupid?” & “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly. And that makes me kind of happy.” - Bridesmaids Thank you for letting me do this challenge my dear, and congrats on your milestone! Here to more milestones in the future!! xoxox

____________

You usually had to say no when your sister asked if you could babysit considering your job. At any moment you could get a call saying the world was ending, and you needed to jump on a Quinjet to go save it.

But after what had to have been the 10th time canceling with your sister, Tony told you not to worry. It had been a tough argument between both of your iron hard heads. One with you saying you would find time later and wanted to stay at the compound just in case. 

But after Tony had Morgan, he always made sure you could escape to your family when you needed. He knew the right thing to say every time too to get you to leave your job behind, and put your family first. 

“You don’t know the next time you’ll get to see them. So if the world isn’t ending this instant, get your fine ass out of here.”

So with a heavy roll of your eyes, you nodded knowing he was right. You did love seeing and spending time with your family, but could easily be blinded by the needs of your job.

However, tonight you told your sister that you would babysit, and her and her wife could go out on a date night. You don’t remember the last time you hung out with your nieces, and they were always such a hoot. 

Tonight consisted of loads of movies, princess play, staying up way past bedtime, and some intense makeovers. 

By the time you did get the girls to bed, you were too tired to mess with the heavy amounts of eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick smeared all over your face. Mainly in places it was not made to be put. 

You looked like Abby from that show Broad City on the episode where she gets her wisdom teeth out, and her friend does her makeup like a drag queen. It was that bad.

But again, you were too tired to care.

So when your sister came home to relieve you of your job, she couldn’t hold back her laughter and neither could her wife. 

“I know. I know it’s bad. I’ll take it off when I get home though.” you yawned as you sat up from the couch and stretched. 

“You could just stay the night here,” she offered, fluffing the pillow you were leaning on.

“I would, but I have training early in the morning. Gotta show some of the new agents how to kick Bucky’s ass,” you chuckled, grabbing your things and crossing your arms. “Thanks for letting me hang out with the girls. I miss them and I really needed this.”

“Thank you for letting us get out of the house for once without the little rascals,” your sister smiled.

“You’re more than welcome to have some sleep overs here whenever you need a healthy dose of birth control,” her wife Sarah said nodding at the girls bedroom. 

“Noted, and I will for sure cash that in at some point,” you chuckled tiredly. 

“You sure you’re good to drive?” your concerned sister asked walking you to the door.

“I’m good. It’s only a 10 minute drive. I’ll wake up once I get in the car.” 

“Ok, drive safe. Thanks again sis.” 

“Anything for you and Sarah. And the girls of course!” you waved walking out to the driveway.

“Text me when you’re home!” she shouted.

______

You made it back to the compound in one piece, but you were exhausted. 

When you got back to your room, you saw your boyfriend was still up at the late hour, and was reading a book in the corner of your balcony. Bucky always waited up for you if you were coming home late. You knew it was so that he had a peace of mind of you being safe, and also that he couldn’t sleep well without you. 

He never told you those things, but it wasn’t hard to catch on. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you saw him turn in his seat and smile before coming back in the room. 

But just a few steps in he froze, and tilted his head. 

“What, uh, whatcha got going on there?” he said with a small chuckle escaping. 

“What?” you asked confused. 

He pointed at his own face making a circle with his index finger showing he was talking about you. 

“Wh-” you started, but then your brain caught up and you remembered that you had makeup done by a 4 and 6 year old still on. “Oh, crap I forgot.” you moaned slumping over and walking to the bathroom in a drained way.

All you could hear was full on laughing from the other room, as Bucky slowly collected himself enough to come into the bathroom with you. 

You were looking for your makeup wipes, but must have moved them because you couldn’t find them fast enough. 

When you looked up in the mirror looking at Bucky behind you, he had his arms crossed and one hand covering his mouth. He was trying SO hard not to laugh, but when you made eye contact with him again, he folded over laughing more. 

“What is so funny about this?” you chuckled at his reaction. You don’t remember the last time he was this giggly. It’s not like you guys don’t laugh when you're together, but this giggle fest was so much stronger than most. 

“Nothing. Nothing.” he said trying to hold it in, but failing. You send him a serious look not having the energy for this like you normally would. “Ok, ok.” he said, seeing you were too tired to understand. “It’s just that...It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly. And that makes me kind of happy.”

“What?!” you shouted, turning to look at him. 

“Wait-” he said, getting defensive but still laughing. 

“You can’t just tell a girl she’s ugly Buck!” you shouted playfully running up and shoving his chest. You would be offended, but you know he didn’t mean it that way. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to let him off with his slip up. 

“Let me restate what I meant,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender as you kept smacking him. “I didn’t mean ugly, I meant...” He was in a bind and didn’t know how to fix it, and once again the giggles came back out. 

“Are you stupid or stupid?” you said straight faced crossing your arms over your chest tightly. 

“Stupid. Very, very stupid.” he answered still laughing as he pulled your elbows to him, and held you in an embrace. His chin resting on the top of your head. 

“At least you got one thing right.” you mumbled into his chest. 

“I’m guessing the little munchkins did this amazing transformation.”

“How’d you know?” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

“Wild guess.” he chuckled. Then he pulled you back holding your shoulders as he looked at you. “I’m just not used to seeing you with makeup up of any sort, and this... Well, this is not the kind of makeup I ever thought I would see you in.” he smiled. “I hate to tell you, but you have lipstick in your eyebrows I think.” he said running his thumb over the red smear. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” you giggled. 

“You gonna keep it on to show the crew in the morning, or do you need help washing it off? I’ll support whatever,” he grinned, turning you around and putting his hand on the lower part of your back as you both looked in the mirror. 

“You know, I think Steve would appreciate seeing how makeup has changed over the years. It’s a nice form of art,” you said tilting your head as you examined the fine artwork done by the youngins. 

“That or give the old man a heart attack,” he said, mocking your tilt of the head. 

“I didn’t give you a heart attack,” you smiled up at him. 

“That’s because I’m very used to your dorkiness.” he kissed your cheek. 

“Awe, trying to suck up after your slip up. How cute...”

“I’m not going to live this down for a while, am I?” he sighed resting his chin on your shoulder now and embracing you from behind. 

“No. No you’re not.” you smiled, but behind it was a deadly promise. “But, like you, I’m not sure this is the right style for me. Doesn’t really fit.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really scream Y/N.” he nodded. 

“Ok. I’m going to wash this off and then I’ll be ready for bed. If you can’t tell by this alone, it was a very tiring and eventful night.” you sighed warming up the water. 

“Sounds like a plan doll.” he said, giving you one more kiss on the head before heading to the door. “And Y/N/N,” he said before you turned to look at him. “You look gorgeous 25/8. It’s nice to know some of us have a chance with you when you get done up like this.” he grinned.

You let out a single loud laugh before throwing a wash cloth at him as he ran out laughing himself. 

“Punk,” you mumbled, grinning wide as you went back to riding your face of the clown paste.

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[mychemicalrachel]

Finally, Finally

Buck x Eddie.

My take on Abby coming back.

Part /3.

Part One. / Part Two.

Word count; 2040

Also on Ao3

Part Three: Eddie

“In case something happens…”

Those were the exact words Captain Nash had used nearly a year and a half ago when Eddie first joined the 118.

Exchanging keys was a small, simple way to say “I got your back” in case something happened on a call. It was no secret that they had a dangerous job and there was no use tiptoeing around the fact.

In case something happened.

In case you don’t make it out alive.

In case someone has to clean out your place and notify your next of kin.

It was morbid, in a way, but it was also a comfort.

On the ring that Eddie uses, there’s a little orange keychain that reads “Best Dad Ever” and a key to his truck, his house, his abuela’s house, and one dedicated to every one of the members of the 118.

They each had one for his house, too.

If pressed, Eddie would admit that he wasn’t sure what key fit what door. He thinks Hen’s might have been the silver key with the ridged top, and Chimney’s was probably the one that was marked with a messy H in Sharpie.

The only key he knew with absolute certainty was the gold key that showed more wear with each passing day. That one was Buck’s. It hung right between his own house key and the keychain Christopher had picked out for him two Christmases ago.

Then again, Buck gets enough use out of his copy of Eddie’s key to make it a fair trade.

When Abby had manifested like a mirage outside of Bucks’ door, Eddie had recognized her immediately. Not necessarily from look, as he’d only seen a photo of her one or two times, but from some weird sixth sense. Maybe it was her fading red hair or the way she held herself-- he had heard stories of her, fairy tale-like musings, from Buck and Carla alike. 

Until he stood face to face with her-- her just outside Buck’s apartment, Eddie inside-- he had sort of thought of her as a figment of imagination. Not that she wasn’t real, exactly, but more like the real her was lost somewhere amidst the memories. She had become a story, not a person.

And then she smiled quietly. “I’m looking for Buck.”

Eddie could see in the softness of her eyes and imagined the way Buck must have felt once upon a time; loving her, losing her.

Eddie hated her profusely.

He led her into the kitchen and left them alone to talk-- or not talk-- as they saw fit. It was none of his business, after all.

“Dad,” Christopher’s voice pulls him out of his own head. They’re eating leftover lasagna, just the two of them, in the living room. The couch is colder than it usually feels and he chalks it up to the coming winter. LA is warm, but it’s a change from Texas he’s still adapting to. Chris prods at his plate, mostly untouched. “Why did Buck want us to leave?”

“Oh, Bud, no.” Eddie feels guilty suddenly. “Buck didn’t want us to leave. The woman that showed up, she was a friend of his that he hadn’t seen in awhile. I just thought they needed some time alone.”

“Why?”

Eddie isn’t sure he can explain it to himself, let alone his son. “Well, they haven’t seen each other in a long time. They need to catch up.”

“But why did we have to leave?”

Eddie frowns.

Buck didn’t tell them to leave. He actively wanted them to stay.

It was Eddie that freaked out and fled.

Because the idea of listening to Buck catch up with his ex-girlfriend sounded like hell on earth.

Because he didn’t want to see Buck inevitably fall back in love with her.

Because of things he wasn’t quite ready to face in himself.

Eddie decides to sidestep the question. “We’ll see him tomorrow, I promise”

Christopher takes the non-answer as it is, and says, “Okay.”

Eddie forces himself to take another bite of food, though it tastes stale on his tongue and settles dry in his stomach.

Minutes tick by as both Christopher and Eddie stop pretending to eat and fall back on the couch together. They watch Big Hero 6 and laugh obligingly, but it feels forced.

It feels wrong.

This is how it’s been done for years, Eddie reminds himself. Just him and Christopher. This is normal. Still, the coldness of the couch seeps into his bones.

He hears the door close a second before he hears Buck’s voice. “Diazes!” he calls. “Where are you?”

“Buck!”

Chris struggles to sit up and manages to launch himself off the couch, making a beeline for the sound of the newcomers voice. Eddie follows suit and meets Buck in the dining room, where  he’s setting down a pizza box and scooping Christopher up into his arms.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Buck says, peering into the living room where two plates of cold lasagna sit, barely touched. “I promised you pizza, and I never break my promises.” He looks over at Eddie, a bit of uncertainty coloring his words. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Christopher confirms, lifting the lid on the pizza box. He grabs a slice and disappears back in front of the TV.

“I would have called,” Buck says, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “But I was coming over whether you said yes or not.”

Eddie snorts. He retrieves a piece for himself, but leans against the table instead of joining his son. “You didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to.”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie stresses, trying to figure out for himself what exactly he is saying. “That I would have understood. You and Abby needed to catch up. I get it.”

“And we did,” Buck says, a shrug pulling at his shoulders while a smile tugs at his lips. “It was very cathartic.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t want details. He does not want any details. He understands, as Buck’s best friend, that he should lend an ear. He should offer his congratulations. He chews quietly on his pizza and steels himself.

“She’s getting married.”

Oh.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Buck.”

Buck laughs and his entire face lights up. It’s a smile that’s always been contagious. “Why? I’m really happy for her.”

“You are?”

Buck nods. He leans against the table next to Eddie, their hands brushing together between them. Eddie does his best to ignore it.

“When she first said it, I was waiting for… I don’t know,” Buck shrugs with his entire torso, a gesture that jostles their shoulders together. Eddie curses silently. “I guess I was waiting on the pain. I expected it to hurt. But it didn’t. If she had told me that a year and a half ago, I would have been heartbroken.”

Buck sighs and intentionally presses his arm against Eddie’s, more than just an accidental brush of limbs. It remains there, skin to skin.

It’s almost as if he knows the sensation that the simple touch sends through Eddie, but he couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t know the shiver that rolls up his spine, the goosebumps that arise on his forearm, the way his heart beats just a little bit faster.

Not unless Buck feels it, too.

He doesn’t move away.

“When Abby left,” Buck says, his voice quiet, meant for just the two of them to hear. Chris remains oblivious in the other room, mere yards away. Doesn’t he hear the static rushing in Eddie’s ears? Can he not hear the beating of Eddie’s heart pounding against his ribs?

“When I really accepted that she wasn’t planning on coming back,” Buck’s hands outstretch in front of him, grappling for something physical to hold onto. Some infinite emotion or thought that he’s trying his best to convey with spread fingers. Eddie wants to feel it, whatever it is that Buck is reaching for. “It was like there was this hole she left. An Abby-shaped hole that no one night stands or casual sex could fill. I loved her.”

It takes a long time for Eddie to find his voice. He watches the side of Buck’s face, outlining the curve of his nose and the shadow of his lips. He isn’t even sure he wants an answer when he asks, “And now? Do you still love her?”

Buck looks up and meets his gaze, steady and sure, as he shakes his head. “No. I don’t. Not the same way, at least.”

Eddie can’t breathe. He needs to look away before he does something stupid, but he can’t move.

Buck’s arm brushes his again and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t see Buck smile.

“You feel it, too,” Buck says, and then Eddie feels the hand on his arm, solid, tantalizing, and definitely not just a brush of skin. There’s an intent in his hands and Eddie feels it in that moment, the thing Buck had been reaching for a moment ago; The feeling, the sentiment, the something more just beyond words. 

“I didn’t know how to move on,” Buck admits. Eddie can feel his breath, but resolutely refuses to open his eyes. He’s afraid of what will happen if he does. “And I didn’t realize until I saw her again that I already had.”

Finally, finally, Eddie opens his eyes. “Buck--” he starts, but then there’s a mouth on his and he can’t focus to breathe, let alone find words to say whatever it was he was going to say.

It’s a short kiss that seems to last minutes or hours, and when Buck finally pulls away, Eddie’s head is swimming.

That just happened.

He kissed me.

I’d very much like it if he did it again.

Buck is watching him with doe eyes, big and blue and waiting.

Waiting, he realizes, for Eddie to say something.

Ultimately, in the haze that still fills his head, he blurts out, “I fill your hole.”

A beat passes and then Buck is clutching his stomach laughing. “Yeah,” he says. “You fill my hole.”

Eddie feels his face burn and he shoves Buck, but can’t stop himself from laughing, too. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant the-- Stop laughing. I meant the Abby-shaped hole.”

Buck catches his arm and pulls him back in close. Their noses bump and the laughter dissipates. Eddie moves slowly, feeling like if he moves too quick he could startle Buck away. Buck would come to his senses, or Eddie would wake up in a cold bed, alone, realizing this has all been a dream. He’s wanted this for so long, much longer than he ever even admitted to himself. He cannot mess this up now.

But when he kisses Buck, slow and sure, he feels more certain than he ever has. He whispers into the kiss, “You fill my hole, too.”

The feeling of Buck laughing against his lips is something he never wants to forget.

“Dad?”

A hand knocks on his back and he jumps away from Buck, nearly toppling over Christopher in the process.

Chris.

He forgot about Christopher for a second.

He’d been careless, too wrapped up in his own head to even think about how Chris would take to seeing his dad and Buck kiss.

But Christopher is just staring up at him, plate in hand. “Can you move, please? You’re in front of the pizza.”

Eddie shifts to the side, tangling himself further in Buck’s arms. They watch quietly as Chris helps himself to another piece of pizza and wanders again back into the living room without another word.

They wait, tense and silent, for something, anything, to happen. It can’t be this easy, Eddie thinks. Nothing is ever this easy. Nothing with Buck is ever this easy.

And yet, it is. The way he’d slotted himself perfectly into their lives, becoming a centerpiece in not only Eddie's but Christopher's routine. It’s the easiest thing they’ve ever done.

“We should go,” Buck says. He grabs a plate and shoves a few slices of pizza on before leading Eddie into the living room. They sit together, eating and watching the movie. It’s Buck’s first time seeing it so they start it over and if Buck happens to cry, no one mentions a thing. Eddie just hands him a tissue and leans back into the couch, letting the warmness of it all wash over him.

This, he thinks, feels normal. In fact, he can’t imagine a more rational next step in their friendship, their relationship. It feels right.

As he catches Buck’s eyes over the top of Christopher’s head, they share a smile that says all of this and more.

This is home.

This is us, our family, ourselves.

This is love.

The End.

[migleefulmoments]

Debunking

We’ve talked about this scene before- the Kurt rant given by Santana. Naya just said she was uncomfortable and she mentioned that Chris was upset.  sugdendingle just posted that Chris “liked” her Tweet where she called out how much she didn’t like it.  She added a second comment that includes: 

sugdendingle

None of the other cast were personally attacked in the ways Chris was and to the extent Chris was. I don’t know what Ryan Murphy’s issues were with Chris but he clearly he had some....I’m talking about real life here. About how Ryan Murphy and his writers used the character of Kurt to personally attack Chris Colfer on a regular basis and it’s clear Chris agrees to some extent as he liked my tweet.

That scene in season six was one of the worst examples but hardly the only one. Chris not being traditionally masculine was like a running joke on that show. As was remarks about his voice, his appearance, his sexuality, how he danced, etc. Yes other characters faced insults but it never got as personal as it did with Chris and it wasn’t as extensive either. The insults to Kurt went on right to the end of the show you can’t say the same for the other characters. It’s just really sad that Chris had to endure a work enivorment like this especially considering he was bullied when he was younger.

Abby adds: 

My opinion. The poor treatment stems from extreme jealousy. For many, many reasons. And of course c’s refusal to do as he’s told.(X)

Debunk #1 

None of the other cast were personally attacked in the ways Chris was and to the extent Chris was. Was Chris harassed by the writers “more than any other character”?  I spent a few minutes looking at Santana’s rants-and Santana seems to be the ranter on Glee. I don’t believe her rants about Chris’s failings is any worse than she she said about Finn’s weight. Rachel or really Lea’s nose being too big had an entire episode-and several comments through the years- and Kurt staged a flashmob at the mall to talk her out of plastic surgery. Sam was called Trouty Mouth as a running joke including a song “Trouty Mouth” sang by Santana. 

“Every time you open your humongous mouth to do an impression or to moisten a enormous stamp for a lazy giant you take on step closer to everyone seeing that you’re actually a dork” (X)

“I just heard the news that Trouty Mouth was back in town. I’ve been keeping a notebook, just in case this day ever came. Welcome back, Lisa Rinna. I’ve missed you so much since your family packed their bags, loaded them in your mouth and skipped town. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to enjoy a crisp pickle, but couldn’t find anyone to suck the lid off the jar. I assume you’ve been working as a baby polisher where young mothers place their infants’ heads in your mouth to get back that newborn shine. So glad you’re back. I haven’t seen a smile that big since the acclamation abominable snowman got his teeth pulled by that little gay elf dentist. Love, Santana” (X)

This gets loooonnnngggg so under a cut 

This one she also hit at Tina’s Asian eyes and Rachels nose- though I didn’t include that part. 

Santana: Hold up, could we all just get real here for a second? I hear that Rachel has a bit of a schnoz. I mean I wouldn't know because like Medusa I try to avoid eye contact with her. But can we all just stop lying about how there aren't things we don't want to change about ourselves? I'm sure that Sam has been at the doctor's office and riffled through pamphlets on mouth reductions. I'll bet Artie's thought about getting his legs removed since he's not really using them anyway. And I'm definitely sure Tina has looked into eye de-slanting. Tina: That's extraordinarily racist. Santana: Just keeping it real. Tina: Sorry Santana, I'm a beautiful person. I'm in love with myself and I would never change a thing. Mike: Is that why you're wearing blue contacts today, Tina? [whispers] Self hating Asian. Tina: Not too many Asian sex symbols, Mike. I'm just trying to mirror what I see in magazines. Finn: My dancing kind of bothers me. It almost killed Rachel but I like the way I look. Santana: Oh please. You have weird puffy pyramid nipples. Sam: [tries to look at Finn's nipples] Finn: [slaps Sam's hand away] Santana: They look like they're filled with custard. Or you could dust them off with powdered sugar and pass it off as some sort of dessert. Look, maybe Rachel is fine with having an enormous beak. Maybe she needs it to crack hard seeds. All I'm saying is if you look in the mirror and you don't like what you see, you should change it.”(X)

“I’ve kissed Finn, and can I just say… not worth a buck. I would, however, pay a hundred dollars to jiggle one of his man boobs”. (X)

Santana: “Please stick a sock in it or ship yourself back to Scotland. I’m trying to apologize to Lumps The Clown. I am sorry, Finn. I mean, really, I’m sorry that the New Directions are gonna get crushed by the Troubletones. And I’m also sorry that you have no talent. Sorry that you sing like you’re getting your prostate checked, and you dance like you’ve been asleep for years and someone just woke you up. Have fun riding on Rachel’s coattails for the rest of your life, although, you know what, I would just watch out for her come holiday time if I were him, because if I were her, I’d stick a stent in one of those boobs and let the Finn blubber light the Hanukkah lamp for eight magical nights.” (X)

Santana: “Why is everyone staring at me like I’m Finn and I just won a butter eating contest” (X)

She even hit him during The Quarterback “Okay, I know that Finn had his doubts about God but I am convinced that Squishy Teets is up in heaven right now plopped down next to his new best friend Fat Elvis helping themselves to a picnic of baby back ribs smothered in butterscotch pudding and TaterTot grease so this is for you Hudson” (X)

She also did a combo Finn/Sam rant “Not only am I giving you full visitation rights to the set of rambunctious twins that live on my rig cage, you get the chance to show that pastry bag Finn that he can’t mess with Sam Evans. And not just because you can unlock your humongous jaw and swallow him whole like a python…” (X)

The Kurt rant 

“Kurt I took what you said to heart, and I thought long and hard about it, and it occurred to me that you may have a point. Okay, maybe Brittany and I are too young to get married. I mean, after all, that's why it didn't work out with you and Blaine, right? Or maybe it didn't work out because you're a judgmental little gentrophile with a mouth like a cat's ass. Maybe Blaine got tired of hearing your shrill, self-aggrandizing lecture about how you felt the two of you were at the very apex of the gay rights movement every time you so much as cooked macaroni and cheese together or farted. Maybe Blaine didn't want to be with someone who looks like they just removed their top row of dentures every time they smile or someone who doesn't dress like an extra out of one of Andy Dick's more elaborate wet dreams. Maybe Blaine grew weary of dating a breathier, more feminine Quinn Fabray. Maybe he finally got freaked out about your strange obsession with old people that causes you to skulk around nursing homes like one of those cats that can smell cancer. Maybe he got tired of watching you drape yourself on every piano you happen to pass to entertain exactly no one with, say, some song that Judy Garland choked on her tongue in the middle of or some sassy old Broadway standard made famous by another dead alcoholic crone. Maybe Blaine woke up one day and said, "You know what I don't want to marry a sexless, self-centered baton twirler. Maybe I need someone who knows more than three dance moves: "the finger wag", "the shoulder shimmy" and the one where you pretend to twirl two invisible rainbow-colored ribbons attached to your hips. So, you know what, maybe that's why it didn't work out. Maybe it has nothing to do with me and Brittany. Maybe it's just that you are utterly, utterly intolerable. Maybe that has something to do with it."(X)

Conclusion: Chris was not attacked more than other actors on Glee.  The writers were pretty vicious about the physical characteristics of Rachel’s nose, Finn’s weight and man boobs and Sam’s nose. They also wrote about Damian’s height referring to as Leprechaun. All are very personal attacks about the actor; not the character.  Finn’s boobs were used as fodder for humor after he died so the idea that no other character was humiliated throughout the show is untrue.  

Debunk #2 

I don’t know what Ryan Murphy’s issues were with Chris but he clearly he had some. Ryan didn’t write Santana’s vicious lines-Brad Falchuk did.  I spent enough time researching this and finding late-season interview is hard but earlier interviews show that Ryan really respected Chris and Kurt.

Ryan did an interview with NYT in 2010  Q:Is this story in any way autobiographical or a reflection on your own experiences growing up?

A:It wasn’t really true to my experience at all. But I know so many people that it was true to. It was very true to Chris Colfer’s experience, and working with him for the past year, he would tell me stories. It’s amazing to me — last year when we did the “Glee” tour, every time Chris Colfer came out on that stage for his bows, 100 percent, he got the loudest cheers and applause, from all groups of people. Little girls, parents. A lot of people have embraced him and he’s part of their television-going family, so to see an episode in which he’s physically threatened is very upsetting for people, I think. But it puts a face on it. 

Q: It’s still rare to see gay characters on prime-time network programs, let alone one who is out in the way that Kurt is, and at a young age. Is there ever any pressure on you to tone down the portrayal of that character?

A: No, surprisingly not. Three episodes into the series last year, when we did the “Single Ladies” football number with him, he became an audience favorite and people started to write about that character and Chris Colfer. I think that character is in many ways the most important character on television, particularly for kids. When I was growing up, there was nobody like that. I think that character changes lives. I think that character launches conversation, both good and bad, and that’s a very powerful thing. I’ve done shows where if a character is a little bit controversial, the network and the studio are like, “Could you please tone that down?” They never did that at all with this character, and they were all very supportive of the story line. (X)

“Growing up in Indianapolis, Murphy sang in his church choir and immersed himself in high school musicals. His father was a semi-pro hockey player who was baffled by a son who requested a Vogue subscription when he was 5 years old and performed in his bedroom, holding a hairbrush in front of a mirror. He may not have understood his son, but he accepted him, even when Murphy revealed that he was gay at 15″.

“Having a dad that loves you as a young man is a very powerful thing that you carry into the world,” Murphy said. “Because no matter what you do, in some weird, unconscious way, if you’re a guy, you always try to please your dad. I think it’s a great thing to put on television. You’ve seen the gay character that gets kicked out of the house or is beaten up. You haven’t seen the gay character that is teased a little bit, but wins and triumphs.”

“The scene in which he tells his father was taken verbatim from Murphy's own life. Murphy felt that the scene was "a great thing to put on television", because, while gay characters are often isolated and attacked, audiences have rarely seen an openly gay character who "wins and triumphs". He further explained, "The show is about making you feel good in the end. It's about happy endings and optimism and the power of your personal journey and making you feel that the weird thing about me is the great thing about me. I've done other shows with gay characters, and I will say that in many of those cases, the gay characters didn't have a happy ending. And I thought you know what? Enough."(X)(X)

We also know that Ryan created the role of Kurt specifically for Chris. 

We don’t know what happened with the fall out(s) on set. Chris said he wouldn’t work for Ryan and 

“To this day, I'm devastated by everything that happened with that show." (X)

Other interring things I found:

“Over the course of six seasons of Glee, which petered out earlier this year, there was plenty written about backstage drama, fractured relationships and the death of star Cory Monteith from a drug overdose. All Murphy will offer are his own misgivings about his role on the show. "I was there with them all day long, and then we'd finish work and we'd go out and have fun all night, and I guess in a weird, twisted way, I was trying to relive the childhood I never had," he says. "I thought they wanted a parent, and they didn't. They didn't want me to tell them what to f—ing do. They didn't want me to tell them how to treat each other or what the world was like at the end of the day. I wish I could go back and do that differently with a lot of those actors. Some of them I'm still very close to: Lea Michele, Chord Overstreet, Darren Criss — but there were some that didn't work out well, and I regret that. I guess I just wish I had been able to let them figure it out for themselves."(X)

Conclusion: Ryan is a grown man and didn’t have it out for Chris. He respected Chris and used the Kurt role to tell his story of being a gay boy in small midwest town.   

Debunk #3

The poor treatment stems from extreme jealousy. For many, many reasons. 

Abby has claimed Ryan is jealous of Chris many times over the years-it still isnt’ true.  Ryan is a very successful producer, writer, creator.  I found a few quotes to back that up.  

“It's a peculiar thing to be asked by Murphy, 50, the closest thing the TV industry has to a proven hitmaker, save, perhaps, for Shonda Rhimes. Over the past decade and a half, he's made pop-culture juggernauts out of plastic surgeons on Nip/Tuck, high school misfits on Glee and witches, nuns and nymphomaniacs on American Horror Story. And in that time, he's become a name brand himself, more famous than all but the biggest stars in his sprawling casts. The showrunner, both pop savant and provocateur, has one of the richest eight-figure deals in television and a coterie of loyalists that includes Gwyneth Paltrow(with whom he's about to pitch a musical dramedy), Julia Roberts, Jessica Lange and now Lady Gaga. He's hosted President Obama at his home for a $40,000-a-couple fundraiser, and when he mentions his friends Norman, Barbra and David, he's referring to Lear, Streisand and Geffen.(X)

"There's a limited number of creators in film or TV where if you put the title plus their name — if you say, 'Steven Spielberg's blah blah blah' or 'Marvel's blah blah blah' — you're going to get a different answer than if you don't," Landgraf says, "and Ryan is one of those guys."(X)

Chris is a successful writer and if he is successful in writing and directing the TLOS movie, he could be a power player in Hollywood. But right now- even with his Time 100 award, he isn’t anywhere near Ryan Murphy.  I suppose Ryan could be jealous of something other than Chris’s success but I have seen no evidence of that. 

Conclusion: Nope. 

[hippolotamus]

i wish you all the love you're looking for, darling | 1025 words | Rated T

Buck knows the phrase goes “there’s no use crying over spilled milk”, but nothing has spilled here. Nothing has cracked or broken. These damn eggs shouldn’t be making him feel this way.

He fixes his gaze on the refrigerated case, with its rows of Extra Large and Brown and Cage-Free, and his bottom lip starts to quiver. Again. Once he realizes that today is not the day he’ll be able to successfully choose any, he blinks away the tears threatening to fall, and turns toward the orange juice instead. That feels safe enough.

It’s not even the “farm fresh” white shells that are making him emotional, it’s the Abby of it all. Because that’s what everything comes back to lately, isn’t it? 

When Buck and Abby were still conducting their relationship via phone calls, Bobby had been teaching Buck how to cook for himself, to make a few simple dishes. As things progressed to in-person, Buck asked for some additional hints and techniques when he realized he might finally have someone that would still be there in the morning. Someone who stayed in the room longer than the time required to put their clothes back on and tell him they had a good time and maybe they’d see him around. Bobby had given Buck a warm, adoring smile – the kind he only ever got from Maddie – and said he was really proud of the person Buck was becoming. 

Buck spent hours practicing everything Bobby showed him until he could easily make omelets with just the right amount of seasoning, perfectly crisp (but not burnt) bacon, and waffles that didn’t come from the freezer or a store bought mix. 

He remembers how Abby looked at him the first time he made eggs sunny side up. Buck froze mid-turn, nearly sending the skillet clattering to the floor. For once, it wasn’t just the sight of her leaning against the counter, only wearing one of his t-shirts, her hair down and falling around her shoulders. It was… everything else. Abby was watching him in a way no one had before, with a lopsided grin like she really saw him. She tried to play it off when he asked her about it, but finally admitted she couldn’t help herself. She said it was fitting that he chose sunny side up eggs because he brought her so much joy and seemed to make everything brighter. Buck had set the pan back on the burner in favor of sweeping her up for a soft kiss, twirling her in the middle of the kitchen until they were laughing too much to continue, because he still hadn’t known how to properly accept someone sticking around. 

That was seven months ago. And that was a different Buck. One who could have never imagined watching her leave as the glass doors slid closed. A Buck who couldn’t dream of writing and sending the letter he slipped in the mailbox three days ago. Now he’s a guy in his late twenties pretending not to fall apart in the dairy aisle. 

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck swipes his fingers over his eyes, hoping to make it look more like he’s getting rid of a stray eyelash, and turns toward the voice. Christopher excitedly shuffles toward him, his little arms already open wide for a hug. 

“Hey, buddy,” Buck beams, setting down his basket so he can lift Chris up. “Where’s your dad?” 

“Too busy trying to pick a spaghetti sauce.”

“There you are! Chris, you can’t just-” Eddie stops abruptly, taking in the sight of Buck holding his son. “Oh, hey, Buck. Uh, thanks.”

“No problem, man.” Buck ruffles Christopher’s curls, carefully lowering him to the floor, ensuring his legs are steady. 

Eddie pulls Chris’s crutches from the cart, holding them out for Chris to take. “Last time I let you convince me to hold those for you at the store. You’re way too sneaky and quiet.” 

“That’s the point,” Christopher replies with an exaggerated eyeroll before turning back to Buck. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Abuelita’s busy and Dad can’t cook.”

“Christopher, what did we talk about?” Eddie strikes an unfairly hot dad pose, planting his hands on his hips, biting his lower lip, trying - and failing - to pin his son with a serious look. Buck chooses to focus on the shitty tile floor rather than what it might be like to have that intensity trained on him. 

“Not to tell people how you set off the smoke alarm trying to make scrambled eggs?”

“Well, yeah, that, too.”

Buck doesn’t know what sort of expression is on his face at the moment, but he’s sure it falls somewhere in the ridiculously fond territory. He crouches down next to Christopher. “Tell you what, buddy. If it’s okay with your dad I would love to come over. I can even make you eggs if you want.”

“Please, Dad?” Christopher gives Eddie puppy dog eyes that could, in Buck’s opinion, make a saint commit crimes. 

Eddie looks between Buck and Chris, like he already knows he’s fighting a losing battle, and finally breathes out an exasperated sigh. The effect is lost in the adoring grin that takes over. “Fine. Buck can come over. First, let’s get the shopping done with, yeah?”

Chris leans in, whispering too loudly for it to be concealed, “Maybe you can teach Dad how to make something he won’t burn.”

“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.” Buck says with a wink, holding a hand up for a high five. “See you later?”

“See you later, Buck!” Christopher thrusts his arm forward, hitting Buck’s palm slightly off center. 

Buck watches them walk away until they disappear down the pasta aisle. He confidently returns to the case and quickly chooses two cartons of free range. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the cashier asks him while she begins scanning his purchases.

Eddie and Christopher catch his eye as they exit toward the parking lot, the glass doors closing behind them. “Uh, yeah.” Buck feels the blush creeping up the back of his neck, spreading to his cheeks. “I think I did.”

[mearcatsreturns]

Hope for Dummies, ch. 5

There's not a guidebook to hope, but they could sure use one.

An end to waiting is just the beginning of...well, the rest of their lives.

Thank you for joining me on this fairly fluffy journey for Luka and Abby! I'll do the epilogue as soon as I can, but this main part of the story is done. And it has some smut, so be forewarned and/or excited.

You can also read this on ao3, all 7.5k words of it.

Valentine’s Day passes with little fanfare, and Abby buries herself in frantic, last-minute studying for her licensing exam. Neela already took hers, but graciously agrees to study with her anyway. Luka offers his assistance, but given that their attempts at studying tend to end in giggling and a lack of productivity, Neela’s the better choice. It helps that she doesn’t imagine Neela naked.

She works an early shift the day before, so she only catches Luka on his way in. He doesn’t see her yet, so she takes the opportunity to look him over while he’s not paying attention. He’d said he was buying a new suit, but she hadn’t expected...wow, she needs a glass of cold water.

Speaking of tall drinks of water, he finally sees her and brightens as he makes his way toward her.

“Hey, check you out, Mr. GQ,” she says, smiling broadly at him.

Blushing, he thanks her, then pulls her behind him into lockup. “Your test is tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yep. I’m going home now to study a little more and then go to bed at a reasonable time.” Or try to, anyway.

“You’re going to do great,” he says, reaching for her hand.

Abby lets him intertwine their fingers. “I’ll settle for passing.”

“And I hope you’re not settling for anything,” Luka replies, placing his on her other hand on her waist.

She licks her lips. “Not at all.”

His eyes follow the motion, and he hesitates for just a second before lowering his mouth to hers in a lingering, hard kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily, he says, “For luck.”

Abby just nods, whispering, “Yeah, for luck,” as she watches him duck out of lockup and start to walk away, though not before one last longing look at her.

&&&

She doesn’t know if she kicks its ass, but she does get her exam done. She just has to wait six weeks to see if she passed. It’s not like she doesn’t have plenty to do to keep her distracted from worrying about it between now and then.

Abby calls Luka a couple hours after she gets home. He answers nearly immediately, sounding breathless. “How did it go?”

She smiles. “Hello to you too.”

“You know what I mean, Abby,” he says, chuckling. “But really, how did it go?”

“I think it went okay, but my brain is mush and I don’t wanna think about it anymore unless I have to.”

“Fair enough.”

“How was your day?”

“Not too bad. There were a couple traumas, but we were able to save both of them,” Luka says.

“You didn’t get anything on your suit, I hope,” she replies, trying to keep back a giggle. God, what this man does to her.

“Hey, that was yesterday. I changed and wore my very boring normal clothes today.”

“Oh, there’s nothing boring about your usual clothes, especially when you wear those blue shirts of yours,” Abby blurts out. Her cheeks heat immediately.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still gruff and low. Jesus, that voice does things to her and should be illegal. “Oh, you like those?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Then maybe I should tell you that you can even manage to make scrubs look good, but my favorite is when you wear those lower-cut blouses,” he tells her, and her stomach clenches. Is she...tingling?

She tries to recover. “How shocking that you’d like the lower necklines I wear.”

“Mmm, it gives me ideas.”

Abby has a few ideas of her own, but first she needs a cold shower. And to remind herself that it would probably not be helpful to mention that she’s wearing his sweater and very little else.

“I...I think we should probably change the subject,” she finally says with genuine regret and frustration. Can it be graduation already?

Luka lets out a sigh. “Probably. Sorry.”

“No, I...I definitely encouraged you. In fact, I brought it up.”

She thinks he mutters something about her indeed bringing it up, and she smothers a laugh. Finally, he says, “Well, if you want to celebrate being done with your licensing, we could go out with Neela, Pratt, Carter, and Kem.”

“That sounds good. Susan and Chuck, too?”

“Yeah, I’ll invite them. Susan needs to stop giving me condoms, though.”

Abby cackles. “She does that to you too? Don’t pay her any attention, I think the pregnancy hormones are getting to her. She knows why we’re waiting.”

“Like I’ve said before, it’s worth it,” he says, and then she’s biting her lip and smiling for entirely different reasons.

She’s pretty sure she loves him.

&&&

Luka dreads the meeting ahead of them, but they have to get it over with and make their selections about matches.

It’s never one of his favorite things to do, but this year it’s just so damn awkward. Situations like these are what he was trying to avoid by pumping the brakes with Abby, but he supposes that even if they were just friends this might still be unpleasant. He just can’t be objective about her.

All the attendings gather in the lounge, Kerry included. After a short, brutal assessment of Lester, they proceed to Abby, and Luka’s stomach twists. So much is riding on this.

Kerry talks briefly about Abby’s qualifications, then opens the floor for discussion by the rest of them. She looks at him pointedly, and he squirms in his chair. Everyone is looking at him, so he finally speaks. “She has, uh, good clinical skills. Excellent ones.”

“She really does know her stuff, and patients love her,” Carter adds, though his lips are twitching.

Susan agrees. “She cares about people, and they can tell. Sometimes the only person who’s not sure about Abby is Abby, but she’s gotten a lot better lately.”

Is...did Weaver just give him a sly look or is he imagining it? He shakes his head and they move on, discussing Neela. Their opinions there are a little more split. Luka likes her, but he’s not sure the ER is the place for her, or if she even wants that.

Weaver hurries out of the lounge as soon as they’re done to head to another meeting, while the other three attendings linger.

Carter comes over and slaps his back. “Good clinical skills, huh?” He smirks before going out the door, leaving Luka with Susan.

“Yeah, do you have personal experience with her clinical skills, Dr. Kovač?” Susan grins at him and raises an eyebrow, and he can feel himself turning bright crimson.

“Well, what am I supposed to say? I...I’m biased when it comes to Abby, and it seems everyone knows it,” he says, ignoring her previous quip.

She gets serious. “Luka, we all love Abby. Not the same way you do, but all of us are biased. Carter still cares about her a lot, she’s one of Kerry’s few friends other than you, and she’s one of my best friends. We’re just teasing you, because we know your involvement makes you both better doctors and people. And you’re our friend too.”

“We...we’re not…”

“You’re not dating?” Susan snorts. “Yeah, Abby told me. For the record, while it’s very noble of you both, you’re involved whether you call it that or not. It’s not like either of you is actually single. You wouldn’t even think of dating someone else, would you?”

“No,” he says simply.

“Besides, according to Frank, you’re actually married. You’re committed to each other and don’t have sex. Ergo, married.”

Luka rolls his eyes, but he struggles to keep from smiling.

&&&

Luka nearly falls backward when Abby all but leaps into his arms, babbling excitedly. “I passed! I passed!”

Ah, her licensing exam. She’s been worried, even if she tries to hide it when they talk. As smart as she is and competent with patients, she knows standardized tests aren’t her forte.

He wraps his arms around her and leans back against the wall. “I knew you could do it.”

“Must have been that good luck kiss.”

“Or because you’re smart and work hard and know what you’re doing. But if you want to test again to see if it’s the kissing, I’m happy to try more.”

She bites her lip and her eyes brighten, and she says, “Well, we could try a celebratory kiss.”

He realizes at once he’s still holding her and that there’s an infrequently used exam room two doors away. It’s not like he has a pressing case right now; they can afford this time.

Later, he might wish he was more subtle, but for now, he doesn’t care. He just carries Abby into the room, not setting her down until he closes and locks the door behind him.

Luka licks his lips, then he doesn’t have a chance to think, to plan. Abby’s lips are on his, or his are on hers. It doesn’t matter, because all that matters is the feel of her in his arms.

It’s not long until the kiss begins to affect him (though truthfully, he’s been affected ever since she said they should kiss again) and he pulls her close enough that they’re pressed up against each other.

She’s kissing him and saying his name, and he tries to hold back a groan as she arches against him, but it’s no use.

He pulls back, and she whines in protest. Then he spins her around so that her back is toward him, and he slides a hand under the neckline of her scrub top. “Is...is this okay?”

“Just...don’t stop,” she says. Words turn into gasping when he reaches under her bra, and he can’t help but thrust into her backside.

He obeys, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw down the slim column of her neck.

When he trails his other hand down her side and slips it under her pants and panties, she cries out, “Luka!” before clapping a hand over her mouth.

God, she’s so wet and responsive and she’s writhing against him. Luka loses the ability to think beyond her and him and the way they feel against each other. If only they could feel more skin, but god, she’s bucking against him as he moves his hands over her and inside her and it’s too much. It’s too much. As soon as she gasps, clutching at his arms and stiffening, he thrusts against her once more before losing himself.

Once he recovers, he becomes aware that (a) he just came in his pants like a teenager and (b) Abby is still slumped against him. The latter fact seems more important, so he brushes his lips against the top of her head.

After a few more moments of heavy breathing, she finally breaks the silence, “So, uh. We did that.”

“Mmmhmm. We did. Any regrets?” He prays she says no, because he can’t regret holding her, loving her, making love to her in any way he can.

“Not a one, but we’re...kinda messy. Literally. You probably more than me.”

He sighs. “Yeah. Ah, we can clean up in here, but if you wouldn’t mind bringing me some scrubs…?”

“Of course,” she says, turning and kissing him once more. As soon as she’s cleaned up a little, she reaches up and pats his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

“Can’t wait,” he manages.

Abby returns in short order, holding a pair of scrubs in his size. Her cheeks are pink, but she smiles. “I, uh, there might be at least one person who has questions about why I needed such giant scrubs, but here they are.”

“Please tell me it’s not Susan,” Luka pleads.

She kisses him, just a quick peck, but the casual affection of the gesture is almost as potent as what they just did before. “It’s not Susan.”

“I get the feeling you’re not being exactly truthful.”

“Hey, you wanted me to tell you that. Besides, Susan is better than it being Carter.”

He groans and buries his head in her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her again, not caring about the scrubs getting crumpled between them. She reaches up and cards her fingers through his hair, and he enjoys just being with her for a few more seconds.

“I should probably get dressed. But are we okay, Abby? I know we said—”

“Oh, Luka,” she says, cutting him off, “I know what we said. And we should probably try to abide by that, but I’m also not going to let us beat ourselves up for this.”

The smile tugging at his lips overtakes his face. “Good.”

&&&

Abby is napping in the on-call room when she hears the sound of a throat clearing. She opens one eye, and seeing that it’s Luka, she blinks blearily. “Hey.”

“Good morning, beautiful. Or afternoon, but yes.” He’s smiling, and he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Everything okay? Do I need to get up?”

Brushing her hair out of her face, he says, “No, and I’m sorry to wake you, but I was going to get coffee before my shift, and I wanted to see if you want to come along.”

“Oh, sure. Just a sec,” she says, pushing herself up and straightening her clothes.

They walk over to the Jumbo Mart together, and Luka’s hand finds hers as they cross the street. Abby looks up at him, smiling softly at the sweet gesture.

After they get their coffee and pay, they head out walking. Abby’s done with her shift, she just knew she’d fall asleep on the train and miss her stop if she didn’t take a nap first. They don’t go far, just lean up against one of the brick buildings and sip at their coffee.

Luka breaks the silence. “So...has Kerry said anything to you about matching with County?”

“Uh, she hemmed and hawed, but basically said that if I ranked County as my first choice, I’m kind of a shoe-in. And I did.”

“Hmm, good. Given any thought to what you’ll do between graduation and starting your internship?”

Oh, Abby has several ideas, and all of them involve her and Luka being very naked together. One particular fantasy involves him bringing her breakfast in bed—completely in the nude, of course, or maybe just with an apron. It might be unrealistic, but a girl can dream.

Instead, she says, “Um, a little. Sleeping for a week, I hope.”

He laughs, but seems distracted. “Yeah. Ah, I was talking to Kerry today, and she gave me a week off right after graduation for some reason.”

“You...you didn’t request it?”

“No, but, ah, I was looking at the schedule and I wasn’t on it, so I asked her about it.”

“That’s kinda weird, even for her,” Abby says, looking up at him.

His cheeks are red. “She said—she said that she, ah, thinks it’s best I take some time off around when you might have...time.”

Oh. Ohhhhh. Abby feels her own cheeks flame brilliantly, but she can’t help teasing Luka. “So she told you to take a sex vacation, basically.”

“Only if it’s with you,” he says, chest shaking with laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“If you want her exact words, it was, ‘I don’t want to be around you and Abby right after graduation, and I don’t think any patients should be.’”

On one hand, she kind of wants to disappear or melt into the floor. On the other...a week. With Luka. “I’m not sure if I should thank her or just go die from embarrassment.”

Maybe she and Luka haven’t exactly been circumspect since finding out she passed her licensing exam. Maybe they’ve been caught making out in almost every room with a door in the ER, and maybe their “we’re not sleeping together” is wearing a little thin with everyone, themselves included.

It’s just...it’s been nice, in a weird way, not jumping into sex. They’d rushed into things physically the first time around, and that’s pretty much how it’s been since...ever. Luka said it’s the first time he’s waited and taken things slowly like this since Danijela, and Abby likes that there’s something, well—innocent isn’t the right word, but she can’t think of anything better. For once, their emotions are farther along than anything else. It’s getting harder and harder to wait though, and at this point saying they’re waiting is a little laughable.

They haven’t had sex, not really. There’s just been a lot of making out. And...more. In addition to the ER, there was that memorable time when Luka gave her a ride home after a shift they worked together and they’d ended up dry humping in his back seat like horny teenagers. That’s not even touching on what they’ve gotten away with at the hospital.

Okay, so maybe she can see why Kerry might have basically told her and Luka to take a sex vacation. It’s still embarrassing, though.

Shaking her head, she leans against him, and he shifts his coffee to his other hand to wrap his arm around her. “So I was thinking...what if after your graduation ceremony, we go away somewhere, just the two of us?”

“You want to get out of town? Travel somewhere?” she asks skeptically.

“Nowhere too far,” he adds quickly. Yeah, she can’t imagine either of them wants to spend a bunch of time driving or on a plane when...well, it’s been almost three years.

“Huh, maybe. Get away from Chicago and our responsibilities, maybe somewhere on the water?”

“Like a vacation.”

“Not like a vacation, an actual vacation.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Sounds good to me. I can find a place and book it, unless you want to choose…?”

“Nah, I trust you to find somewhere good.”

“Do you want to leave the day of your graduation, or maybe the next day?”

Abby considers their options. On one hand, leaving right after graduation sounds tiring and like...well, they’d have to wait to get to their destination. But if they don’t leave immediately, she’s not sure they’ll end up going anywhere at all. “Um, how about right after graduation?”

Luka smiles, clearly on the same page. “Perfect.”

&&&

One day. One day until graduation, and it’s driving Abby crazy to be here finishing up this psych rotation.

It’s been...freakishly good. Honestly, if she weren’t completely sold on being an ER doc, this would be fantastic. Somehow, everything with her family, with her history of alcoholism, makes this rotation engaging and very much her wheelhouse.

But she misses the ER and she misses Luka. She’s worked at County without Luka, and she can imagine being with Luka without the ER, but the two combined is just a no-go.

At this point, it’s less than twenty-four hours before they leave for their little vacation. Six days and five nights at some little cottage on the Lake Michigan coast a couple hours away, and she can’t wait. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to, not much longer, anyway.

The beach and Luka await, and her bag is packed. She even bought a new little bikini for it, though she’s hoping that clothing will be superfluous for the majority of the trip.

Abby shakes her head and heads back toward the elevator. She can daydream later, just as soon as the shift is over.

She’s almost at the elevator when someone grabs her wrist. Smiling before she even turns, she lets Luka pull her into his arms. She hooks her fingers into his belt loops and turns her face up for a kiss.

It’s just a quick peck, but it feels so good to not have to hide it anymore. Technically they should wait until tomorrow to be open about it, but Abby is very aware they’re not fooling anyone—not even themselves—at this point. She didn’t even bat an eye when Morris called Luka her boyfriend a few days ago when she’d been down on a consult...which she hadn’t realized until she’d realized Morris, Haleh, and Malik were all staring at her with raised brows.

“Ready for graduation tomorrow?” Luka asks, twining their fingers together as he pulls her aside.

Biting her lip, she nods. “Very much so. And I’m even 90% packed for leaving after.”

He smiles at her. “I need to finish that up, but I’m going home in just a couple minutes. I just wanted to say hello. And that I’m looking forward to seeing you at graduation.”

“Thank you,” she says, and then Abby can’t help it—she throws her arms around his waist. His arms slip around her, and they stand there holding each other until one of the residents from oncology clears their throat. Oh, right. They’re in the way. “Um, I’ll see you then?”

“I can’t wait,” he says, and she watches him walk away as she steps inside the elevator and the doors close.

The shift goes by quickly, and when she finally stops by Admit before heading out, and she’s surprised to find Kerry there waiting for her. Kerry’s not smiling, not that Abby can blame her with all that’s happened with losing Sandy and now trying to get back custody of their son, but she’s there with a large envelope that she hands to Abby.

Abby looks at her questioningly, and Kerry tells her to open it when she gets home. “I won’t be able to make it to your graduation tomorrow, so I wanted you to have this now. And have a good time on your trip with Luka.”

“Thanks, Kerry.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Lockhart.”

&&&

Abby opens the envelope on the train home. In addition to a nice card and gift, it includes all the official paperwork for Abby’s residency. Abby chokes up a little; it’s so real now, even if she’s known for a while unofficially. She’s going to be a doctor of emergency medicine at County.

It hits her just before her stop. She’s done. She’s done with med school, and the only thing she’s waiting for is her diploma and the ceremony.

Luka isn’t her teacher anymore.

Luka isn’t her teacher anymore.

She hurries off the train and into her apartment, throwing the last of her things she’ll need for the trip into her suitcase. After a short pause, she grabs a few more items and tosses them into a smaller bag that she hoists over her shoulder before heading back outside her apartment. She only has to walk a block or two before she finds a cab.

As soon as she arrives at her destination, she pays her fare and heads up the elevator. She takes a deep breath, and just like she did almost a full year before, she knocks.

Luka comes to the door quickly, and when he sees her standing there with her purse and overnight bag, he licks his lips and wordlessly holds the door open for her, eyes wide.

Abby sets her bag down in the kitchen and looks around. He was clearly in the middle of doing dishes, but she can’t regret interrupting him.

“I, ah, I have some leftover Thai if you want it,” he offers.

She steps closer to him, close enough she can reach for him and toy with the hem of his tee shirt. “Um, thank you, but I’m good. I ate a sandwich before leaving work.”

He waits for her to continue, though he places a tentative hand on her hip.

“I—I realized that I’m done with med school. I mean, graduation is tomorrow, but I don’t have classes or rotations, my grades are in, I’ve got the internship. So, uh, no more teachers o—”

Luka cuts her off, placing his hands on her cheeks and kissing her breathless. Oh, thank god.

She wraps her arms around his neck and scrambles to get closer to him. He seems very on board, if the way he hoists her legs around his hips is any indication.

She’s so lost in the way his mouth, his tongue, his everything, affects her that she doesn’t register at first that he’s walked her over to the living room. Not until he bumps into the back of the couch and growls in frustration.

Abby doesn’t care, though, not even when she starts falling backwards over the end onto the cushions of the couch. She giggles, pulling Luka on top of her. The couch leans ominously for a second before he tumbles onto her, looking very put out.

She nips at his bottom lip, then soothes it with a gentle kiss. When she pulls back, Luka is sheepish. “Sorry about dropping you.”

“Does it look like I mind?”

Given that she’s underneath him, legs hitched around his hips, that telltale red flush spreading down her chest...well. He’s an idiot, but not about that. “No.”

With that settled, Abby tugs at the bottom of his shirt. He pulls it over his head and tosses it across the room. He palms her breasts through the layers of her clothes, and she whimpers in frustration. She needs to feel him.

Luka obviously understands, because he hurries to unbutton her shirt. When he sees that she’s wearing a front-clasp bra, he lets out a groan of his own before unclasping it with one hand. He pushes her bra and shirt off before lowering his mouth to her nipples, sucking and laving.

Abby moans, “Luka,” arching her hips against him and raking her nails down his back. He shudders in her arms, but helps her out when she runs her hand under the waistband of his sweatpants.

God, he’s not wearing anything under those pants, and soon he pushes them down his legs. She can feel him hard and hot against her, but there are too damn many layers, and she can’t—

Then he reaches between them and unbuttons her pants, and though she gives a whiny, breathy sigh when he pulls back, he tugs them off, managing to pull off her underwear as well.

He doesn’t waste time, just settles back between her thighs. Reaching down and finding her wet—so very wet for him—he kisses her hard, then lines himself up at her entrance and slides home.

God, he feels so good. She’s missed this so much, and now he’s inside her again. It’s been almost three years, but her body remembers his like it was yesterday.

“Fuck,” she gasps against his lips, and Luka seems to take it as a command, burying his head in her neck and thrusting into her hard and fast. When his rhythm starts to falter, he reaches between them and settles his thumb against her clit, and then it’s just a few more moments of frantic movement and pleasure before Abby tenses, cries out, and lets ecstasy take her.

Luka only lasts a few strokes more before he stills, spilling inside her with a groan.

He collapses on top of her, and Abby welcomes the weight of him against her, sweat be damned. When their breathing finally returns to normal, she laughs.

He pushes himself up on an elbow, still looking adorable and delicious and disheveled. Smiling, he asks, “What?”

“So, hello.”

“I guess we did kind of skip that part, didn’t we?”

“Mmhmm,” she says, giggling. He covers her lips with his again, this time slow and tender. He’s still inside her, and he flexes his hips against hers. He might have softened and need some time to recover before the inevitable round two, but she savors the feel of their bodies intertwined, flush up against each other.

Eventually he releases her lips with a sigh, brushing a light kiss against her forehead before finally pulling out of her and pushing himself to his feet.

Abby whimpers, but takes his proffered hand. They get up and clean themselves up a little before he reaches down and pinches her bare ass.

She yelps. “Hey!”

“I had to. You’re too cute.”

His grin is just so dopey and happy that she can’t even feign indignation. She melts against him into his embrace. “Dummy.”

“But you lo—like me anyway.”

“Very, very much. Especially right now.”

He makes a sound of assent, resting his chin on top of her head. Suddenly, he bursts into laughter, and she can’t help smiling against his chest. “What?”

“We didn’t make it to the bed. I had all these plans for us, ah, christening my bed, and instead we can barely make it to the couch.”

“I’m just glad we made it to the couch, honestly. Our knees or backs would probably hurt from the floor.”

“We’re not that old, Abby.” As if to prove his point, she can feel him beginning to stir against her stomach.

“We’re not. Shit, we should probably clean up the couch.”

He looks tempted to tell her to forget about it, but then he nods and kisses her cheek. “Okay, but then do you want to go upstairs?”

“Someone is eager,” she teases, though she starts heading toward the stairs.

“Yes. It’s been three years for us, and I’ve been...well. We’ve been ready for this part for six months.”

Abby softens and smiles gently at him, taking another step. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Be there in a couple minutes, draga,” he says, watching her make her way up, adoration in his eyes.

That feeling is entirely mutual.

&&&

Luka makes his way up a little while later, carrying her overnight bag and two glasses of water. He smiles at the sight of Abby tucked in the side of the bed she’d always favored, the sheets around her waist. He’s not quite ready to go again yet, but her breasts...well, he loves her and he certainly loves her breasts.

Setting a glass on the nightstand next to her, he goes to his own side of the bed, aware of her gaze on him. He’s torn between self-consciousness and preening, though when he crawls into bed and she immediately turns to wrap an arm around his waist, he settles for contentment. (Though it’s hardly settling, the farthest thing from it, in fact.)

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow? Since now I guess ‘see you at graduation’ doesn’t make much sense.”

She laughs and rests her head against his chest, and he pulls her on top of him. “Hmm. I tried to pack everything I needed for it, but if we could still stop by my apartment afterward for my suitcase, that would be nice. If that’s okay with you.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I seem to have forgotten pajamas, though,” she says.

“I promise you won’t need them.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Luka nods. “Yep.” He takes one of her hands that’s toying with his chest hair and guides it down to his cock.

“I see,” Abby says, wrapping her hand around him and squeezing lightly.

“Exactly.” If he’s a little hoarse, ah well.

Instead of trying to talk more, he kisses her deeply. He runs his hands all over her, and it’s not too long before she’s gasping against him and taking him inside her. She rides him slowly, leaning her forehead against his as they make love. Luka comes first, but she follows just a few minutes after.

Once they’ve straightened up and have gotten back to bed—he thinks they might actually sleep a while now—he turns on his side to face her, reaching for her hand.

“Do you need a snack or anything?”

“Well, unless you want to go again right now, I’m more tired than hungry,” Abby says wryly, squeezing his hand.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

“Thanks.”

“So.”

“So?”

“Did it live up to the months of waiting?” he asks. He hopes he keeps the uncertainty from his voice. He couldn’t bear it if she’s disappointed.

He clearly doesn’t succeed, because she takes her hand from his and pokes him in the chest. “You can’t seriously need reassurance. That was...well, that was amazing. Both times.”

“I didn’t even use my mouth, and I know you like that—”

“Luka,” she cuts him off, “we have plenty of time for that. It doesn’t need to be perfect every time, either.” Abby takes a breath, then continues, “that said, this was still pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Luka smiles. “I think you’re pretty perfect.”

“I’m really not and I know you know the ways I’m not, but I’m glad you think so.”

It takes everything in him not to blurt out how much he loves her, but he doesn’t want to do that post-coital. She deserves more than that. She deserves romance and appreciation and just...everything. “Hmm. Well, I like you, perfect or imperfect.”

“I feel that way too,” she says, snuggling up against him. “And, Luka?”

“Uh huh?”

“I like the bed. Very nice and comfortable.”

“Good.”

“I’m pretty fond of the bed’s occupant, too.”

He doesn’t have an answer, so instead he just kisses her.

They drift off shortly after that, and though they make love once more in the night, any of Luka’s plans for sleeping in until they need to get ready for graduation are dashed by the ringing of the phone.

He sits up, blinking blearily. It’s definitely the phone. Abby wrinkles her brow and buries her head under her pillow, and Luka rubs his eyes, glancing over at the caller ID. It’s Carter. Huh.

“Hello?” He might not sound terribly polite, but it’s six in the morning, he’s off, and Abby is finally in his bed.

“I’m sorry to be calling so early, man, but—” Carter’s voice breaks, and Luka’s testiness fades.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is Abby with you?”

He pauses, before deciding on honesty. “Yeah.”

“I—good. I don’t want to say it twice, if she’s there and can listen in.”

By then, Abby is awake. She’s still frowning, but she sits up. Luka covers the receiver and asks if she can hear. When she nods, Luka responds to Carter, “Okay, she’s awake and listening too.”

“Yesterday, Kem and I...we ended up going to the hospital, and they had to induce labor. Our baby died. Stillborn. The cord wrapped around his neck, and…”

Shit. Abby winces and gestures for the phone, so Luka hands it over. “Hey, John. Luka and I will be there in a little bit, okay?” She raises her eyebrows at Luka, wordlessly checking that he’s willing to do go.

He doesn’t hesitate. “We will.”

Carter pauses, then answers wearily, “Okay. See you guys soon.”

By unspoken agreement, they get up as soon as they hang up the phone.

“Shower?” Luka asks. It’s not how he planned to make this request, but he doesn’t want them to roll up smelling like sex when Carter’s mourning. He might be too distracted to notice, but Luka has no desire to compound his and Kem’s pain.

Abby nods and follows him. It’s quick, and though they take turns helping each other wash, it’s more intimate than sexy. Abby kisses his chest before they turn off the water and step out to dry off, and he brushes his lips across her forehead after wrapping her in a towel.

Abby’s shirt from the previous day isn’t fit to wear again, and her blouse for graduation is too formal, so she borrows one of Luka’s. He aches for Carter’s loss, but his heart is a traitor and is just so warm at the sight of Abby in his clothes.

There’s not a lot of traffic, but it’s still 7:15 but the time they get to the hospital and up to the right floor. Jack Carter offers to go get them breakfast, and Carter just nods numbly at his father.

Abby is holding his hand, and she squeezes it quickly before letting go and going to hug Carter. Carter stands still for a moment before he crumples, and Luka’s heart breaks for his friend. He goes over and puts a hand on Carter’s shoulder, patting as gently as he can. He wants to hug him too, but he’s not sure Carter wants that.

Carter makes up his mind for him when he lets go of Abby and embraces Luka. Carter is holding back from sobbing, but just barely. After a few moments of Luka holding Carter while Abby murmurs soothingly and rubs his back, they make their way to the chairs.

It takes him a few minutes, but Carter composes himself. “I really appreciate you both coming, especially when—well, sorry for interrupting. But you should go home.”

Luka exchanges a look with Abby. Sure, much as they might want to be alone, they have the rest of their lives ahead of them, and Carter needs them right now.

“Besides, I don’t want you to miss your graduation. That is today, isn’t it?” Carter asks.

“We have time, John,” Abby says, and Luka places a hand on her knee, nodding in agreement.

Jack Carter returns then, bearing coffee. “They didn’t have any bagels, but the coffee’s fresh.”

Each of them grabs a coffee, Luka carefully passing one to Abby.

“I was just saying, Dad, how much I appreciate you guys all being here, but I think that we—we’re okay.”

Luka’s heart twists with pity and compassion. He and Kem aren’t okay, and they might not be for a long time, but hopefully they can bring each other some comfort.

“And, um...I think you guys can go,” Carter says, inclining his head toward Abby and Luka.

We can hardly stay against his will, Abby seems to say, their eyes meeting in another wordless exchange.

She finally stands, and Luka pushes himself to his feet after her. “Okay. You know if you—”

“I know,” Carter says.

Abby leans down and kisses the top of Carter’s head, and Luka reaches out and clasps his hand. They walk out of the ward, and Abby’s hand finds his.

He brings it to his lips as they step into the elevator.

She takes a deep breath, then asks, “You know that I—Carter is just my friend, my trying to comfort him wasn’t—”

“Abby, I know,” he interrupts, “I wish there was something we could do, but all we can do is be a listening ear for him if he wants it.”

“Yeah, it just...well, it sucks.”

He can’t disagree. They make their way to his car hand-in-hand, and as soon as they’re inside, he has an idea. He’s been keeping her gift in the car anyway. “Since it’s probably too late to go to sleep again before we have to get ready, you want to go grab breakfast somewhere?”

She smiles at him. “Sure.”

Luka takes her to this little breakfast joint he knows, grabbing the box from under the seat and sticking it in his back pocket. He doesn’t remember until they’re there being greeted by the hostess that this was a place he brought a lot of his conquests a couple of years ago. Shit.

Magda remembers him and lights up, especially when she sees the way he’s holding Abby’s hand. “Dr. K! We thought you forgot about us.”

“Not you or the potato pancakes, Magda. How is your husband?”

“Doing good, praise god. I’ll tell him you asked. And who is this young lady?”

Abby blushes, and Luka grins at her. “This is Dr. Lockhart, my girlfriend.”

“Not a doctor yet,” she says with a wave of her hand.

He looks at his watch and snorts. “Okay, you’ll be a doctor in like four hours,” he says, then grows serious. “I hope you know that no matter whatever else is between us, I’m so proud of you and all you’ve done, Abby.”

The color in cheeks deepens, but she looks at him with her heart in her eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you and all your encouragement.”

He ducks his own head.

Watching this exchange, Magda softens. “This is good, and I’m glad you’re here. I’ll bring the pancakes, and you come back soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

As soon as they’re seated, Abby raises an eyebrow and asks, “You used to come here a lot?”

“Ah, yeah. When...well, a couple years ago.”

Understanding dawns. “Ah. So...with other women.”

Fuck, he hopes he hasn’t made a huge mistake bringing her here. Idiot, idiot. “Um, yes. Sorry?”

Abby giggles, and he frowns at her in confusion. “Sorry, Luka, you just looked so sheepish. You’re my best friend on top of everything else, and I know what you were a couple years ago. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not unless there’s a reason it should, but I’m pretty sure you introducing me as your girlfriend, us planning a vacation together, and well...everything else—it’s not like what you did with other women.”

“Not at all.”

“Then we’re fine,” she says, still chuckling. “Just...you should have seen your face.”

Finally, he grins back. “Abject terror?”

“Totally.”

Their food arrives quickly and they dig in. After all, they did work up quite an appetite. When they’re done, he clears his throat and reaches behind him for the box in his pocket that’s made sitting uncomfortable.

It’s a wooden box, larger than a jeweler’s box. Her brow wrinkles in confusion when he hands it to her. “Your graduation gift. Open it.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

“Ha ha, very punny.”

“You liked it,” he says, laughing.

She shakes her head in amusement, then opens the box. Cocking her head to one side, she bites her lip. Abby looks at him inquiringly as she takes the shiny golden instrument out of its box. “A...a compass?”

“I know it’s corny,” Luka explains, “but it seems we always find each other.”

Abby swallows, looking down at the compass, then turning to him and reaching to cup his cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

He shrugs. “So are you.”

Taking a deep breath, she says, “Luka, I—”

Whatever she’s about to say is cut off by their server arriving with the check. He pays and they leave after saying goodbye to Magda. On the way to the car, she tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow, and he smiles down at her. God, he can’t remember the last time he was so happy.

Then he remembers the interruption. “What were you going to say earlier? At breakfast?”

“Oh, just...I’ll tell you later,” she says, squeezing his bicep.

He has a feeling he knows what it is, and now he really can’t help smiling.

&&&

They barely get her to graduation on time, having gotten distracted while they were getting ready. Abby had mentioned that her dark green shirt reminded her of Luka’s eyes, and Luka had put on that deep blue shirt she loved on him under the suit she’d admired a few months before. And, well, if they’d had to hurry to remove the clothing and then get it back on a while later, who could blame them?

Sitting next to a heavily pregnant Susan, Luka beams as Abby walks across the stage to receive her diploma. She smiles back at him, and he whoops with joy. Susan elbows him, a soft grin on her face. “So, you two, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, “we’re going on a little vacation right after this. A little time to ourselves before she starts her internship.”

She pats his arm. “That sounds perfect. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin.

After congratulating Neela and Lester, they walk off, hand-in-hand. He helps her remove her cap and gown so she won’t pass out in the heat, tucking her regalia into the back seat of his car. After they pick up her suitcase, they get onto the freeway out of Chicago.

He glances over at her as soon as they take their exit. She looks so...happy. He knows that’s not all due to him, and honestly, he’s thrilled for her sake that she’s accomplished one of her biggest goals. Suddenly—and yet not so, the words have been bubbling inside him for three years—he can’t not tell her. “Abby?”

“Yeah?” She reaches across the console to rest her hand on his thigh.

He places his hand over her smaller one. “I just...I love you. So much.” There’s silence, then he hears a sniffle. “Is...is everything okay?”

Her laugh is watery, and she wipes her eyes. “I love you too, dummy. That’s what I was going to tell you earlier at breakfast.”

“I beat you to it.”

“You sure did,” she says, rolling her eyes. But she’s smiling radiantly, so he lifts her hand to his lips.

Then he keeps driving forward, onward to their future. “Ready, Dr. Lockhart?”

“Ready, Dr. Kovač.”

[make-easter-gay-again]

Prompt: Bram giving Simon his soccer hoodie to wear to one of his games + soft supportive boyfriends

Hey, sorry this took, like, three days. I ended up writing 2.5k words, so I hope it’s worth it.

“Hey. You coming to the game with me?” Abby appeared out of nowhere, breaking Simon out of his daze. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head and figure out what she had just asked him.

“Huh?”

“You’re sitting with me at the game, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you just gonna sit up at the front like you usually do? With all of those girls who look like they don’t want to be there?”

“Yes, and you’re coming with me.”

“Why in the world would I do that? I like sitting in the back. I don’t feel pressured into looking like I care about what’s going on in the game.”

“Simon Spier.” She threw her arm around his shoulder, rising onto her toes to reach. He slowed his pace to help her keep up while balancing. “Don’t tell me Bram hasn’t asked you to the game.”

“Uh, no. Was he supposed to? He knows I’ve gone to all of them in the past for Nick. I’m sure he just assumes-”

“Simon. This is the first game of the season, but more importantly, it’s the first soccer game since you two started dating. There are customs for this. Specific ways that things always happen.”

“There are?”

“Jesus Christ. You don’t notice anything, do you?” She looked expantly at him, but he just shrugged and shook his head. She sighed. “I only sat in the front after I went out with Nick. That’s where you sit if you’re dating one of the players.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“And Bram really hasn’t asked you to go?”

“No… I mean I don’t think he’s mentioned it at all. I mean he’s talked about the game, but never anything that had to do with me being there. Maybe he just figures I’ll be there.”

“That’s not how this works. He has to know about it. It’s been a school tradition since the eighties. He’s been on Varsity since freshman year, since those seniors got kicked out for smoking weed. I wouldn’t think he’d push it this far.”

“Oh.”

Abby opened her mouth to say more, but she noticed Simon’s rapidly deflating responses and stopped herself. “I’m sure he will. And you still can sit down there with me. You’d totally be allowed to.”

He nodded.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Si.”

He crossed in front of her to enter his classroom, and she continued on, a concerned expression taking over her face.

By the time lunch rolled around, his sights hadn’t been raised. He ran into Bram multiple times in the hallway, but they only exchanged a few sentences in passing. He met up with Nick as he usually did, and they made their way through the lunch lines. When they returned to the table, Abby, Garrett, and Bram were all already waiting for them. Leah was still nowhere to be seen.

“Oh god,” Garrett groaned. “I have to fifth wheel the two worst couples to fifth wheel in the universe. Where’s Leah? I need someone to gag with.” All four of them simultaneously rolled their eyes and greeted their significant other. Bram reached for Simon’s hand under the table, and Simon held tight.

The conversation turned immediately to soccer, and as usual when this was the topic of discussion, it was used to try to explain the game to Simon and Leah. Today, the efforts were all pointed to Simon, since Leah was still yet to arrive. Everyone talking about soccer and the upcoming game stressed him out. He noticed Bram didn’t seem as nervous as he usually did when he was about to propose a date. In fact, he seemed more relaxed than usual. Definitely much more relaxed than Simon would be on his equivalent of the first game of a season: opening night. Shortly after Leah made her appearance, Simon rested his cheek on Bram’s shoulder, relieved the spotlight would be off of him for a few minutes.

“You’re going to the game, aren’t you Leah?” Nick asked.

“As much as I’d love to watch all of your asses get pounded into the ground by a team that doesn’t spend half of their practice time making out with someone, I can’t. English is pounding my ass into the ground.” She slammed a giant copy of Hamlet on the table. “I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying in this thing.”

Bram grabbed it and flipped through a few pages. “Most of it is just inverted sentences.”

“What are those?”

“It’s where the verb comes before the noun. There’s a lot of random pronouns, so if you can figure out who they’re referring to, it makes a lot more sense.”

Simon sighed. “Or, you could just do what I do. Look up a Shakespearean translator.”

Leah raised her eyebrows. “They have those?”

“They helped me through sophomore year. Also, I think you can buy fully translated versions of all of his stuff online.”

“Awesome.”

Simon smirked, and Bram jokingly bucked his head off his shoulder.

When the announcement sounded through the lunchroom for both soccer teams to report to the gym to warm up (and, according to Nick’s complaints, help set up for the pep rally), Simon begrudgingly lifted his head and moved it to rest in his hand.

Once half of the table’s population had left, Abby nudged Simon’s arm. “Hey, since Leah’s not coming, you don’t have an excuse not to sit in the front with me.”

Leah gasped. “I didn’t think about that. Yeah, Si, you get to sit in the front now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Abby and Leah asked in unison.

“Because I still don’t particularly enjoy going to the games. I just go for Nick, usually.”

“But… you know, you might be the first guy ever to sit there.”

“That just makes it even less appealing.”

“But-“

“Just drop it. I’m going, but I’m sitting in the back like I usually do.” He didn’t mean to snap at them, but something in the back of his head definitely didn’t want him putting himself in front of the school like that.

Luckily, the bell rang, dismissing them from the lunchroom. He glanced over the table, then noticed a jacket still sitting on the bench next to him where Bram had been. He didn’t recognize it, but he picked it up and caught up to Abby to walk with her to her locker. They had a quick conversation about where to meet before the pep rally, and he turned to walk away. She gasped.

“Simon!”

He turned around, glancing at a clock on the far wall of a classroom in eyesight. “What?”

“The hoodie!” He reached behind his head, but she sighed and pulled his arm down by the elbow. “Not that one, you dingus. The one you’re holding! Is it Bram’s?”

He furrowed his brow. “How did you know?”

“This is great!”

“Why is this great? It’s just a hoodie.”

“No! It is not just a hoodie. Look at it!”

He held it up. It was simply Bram’s grey soccer team hoodie. ‘Greenfeld’ was spelled out on the back, and the front showed the school’s logo.

“How are you not getting this yet?”

“Getting what?”

“The soccer jacket? Bram’s soccer jacket? For god’s sake. Have you ever seen a soccer player wearing one of those?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?”

“That’s because those hoodies aren’t for the players. They’re for those people sitting in the front.”

“The girlfriends?”

“The soccer hoodie is the mark of a relationship. Bram didn’t accidentally leave that. He left it for you.”

“Are you sure? He loses stuff all the time.”

“Spier, trust me. I know what’s going on. I have one of my own. Go to class.” She shut her locker and speedwalked down the rapidly clearing hallway.

He muttered a quick “Shit” and followed after her. He wouldn’t have any of the things he needed for class, but he was late to 6th period far too often. He made it in just before the bell, the only thing in his arms being the jacket. She handed him a pen and grinned at him.

“You’re blushing,” she mouthed.

“I am?” He took a moment to feel his cheek with the back of his hand. “Shit, I am.”

She smirked, and they turned their attention to the front of the room. Only a few minutes later, he tapped his foot twice to get her attention.

“When’s the pep rally?”

She held up eight fingers for a second, and he sighed and slumped back in his chair.

“Pull yourself together. Other people have hoodies they want to wear too.”

“Ew, gross. An Eisner hoodie.”

“Fuck off.”

He hated that the last two classes of the day were the only two he shared with Bram. Now the empty desk stuck out like a sore thumb. He kept the jacket balled up in his lap, anxiously fiddling with his pen for the excruciating hour and twenty minutes before they were released to the gym. Thank god he didn’t have to endure the extra twenty minutes a normal school day would have prompted.

As four grades streamed in one direction, the hallway became a clogged artery. The school was definitely experiencing some heartburn at this rate.  He pushed his way through, desperately searching for Abby.

“How do I do this?” He held up the crumpled hoodie, and she pulled an almost identical one from her backpack.

“So you’ve decided to sit with me in the front?”

“Absolutely! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because three hours ago you seemed dead set on looking at your phone for the entire game. Anyway, first, you find a bathroom. Then you take off the seven layers of jackets you’re wearing and put that one on. Then you meet me back here. It’s not difficult.”

“Good. At this point, there are so many ways things are supposed to happen, I wouldn’t be too surprised if you told me I had to sacrifice a virgin.”

“Dark, Simon.”

“That’s for the comment on my jackets.”

“Touché. Go put on your hoodie, for god’s sake.”

The gym was brightly lit, big, and everything you touched squeaked in a different note. The seniors had first dibs on the bleachers, and the rest of the seats are a death match free-for-all. The Varsity and Junior Varsity teams are indistinguishable for the moment. They all separate into different clumps, talking to whoever they know the best. The only senior seats left were near the back, and they had to kick out a couple of sophomores who thought they could disguise themselves. Simon looked around for other soccer hoodie wearers. They were generally pretty spread out, but most of them were near at least one other. Like Abby, their jackets looked giant on them. The sleeves reached past their hands, and the length seemed absurdly long. Simon’s fit him normally.

The pep rally was the least peppy thing he had ever seen. The principal got up and spoke into a very squeaky microphone about teamwork and perseverance. Just as they were about to be released, Abby grabbed his arm. “You ready for the best part?”

“What would that be?” She stood straight up, pulling him with her. His eyes widened, and he turned bright red. “What are you doing?”

“This is what happens. We’re wearing hoodies, so we leave first. See?” The girls he had noticed before followed their lead and started for the gym floor. She began to lead him forward.

His breathing became more rapid. The color drained from his face, and he tried to stop her from walking. “Abby, I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can! Bram’s right there!”

“No, Abby, not in front of the entire school. I don’t care about being the first or being an example, and I definitely don’t care about stupid traditions that weren’t made for guys. I can’t do this.”

“Are you sure?” Her grip on his arm loosened, but she was too afraid he would pass out to let go entirely. He nodded. “Okay. Come on.” She led him back to their seats, and he collapsed down. She shot death glares at anyone who so much as glanced at them and wrapped her arm around his shoulders as he hid his face in his hands.

The gym emptied slowly around them, and he seemed shakier every second. Abby made eye contact with Nick and nodded, telling him to go ahead without her. He didn’t. He flung himself into the crowd descending the stairs.

Bram appeared first, as he left the line of soccer players the second Simon sat down again. Abby caught his eye and mouthed an apology, but he shook his head. He knelt down in front of Simon so that he would be in eyesight if he were to look up from his hands. “Hey.”

Simon didn’t look up. At the very sound of Bram’s voice, he burst into tears.

Abby released Simon from her grip so Bram could take him into his once he got up onto the bench next to him. Simon melted into him, burying his head under his chin. The crying ended after just the one distressed sob, so he tried to steady his breathing.

Nick arrived and took a seat by Abby. “You okay, Simon?”

“I’m an idiot,” Simon mumbled in response.

“No, Si, it was my fault,” Abby began. “I made it into a big deal.”

“I gave him the hoodie,” Bram argued.

“And I talked you into it,” Nick added. “Well, really it was Garrett, but I was there too.”  

Simon picked up his head, but he didn’t try to get out of Bram’s arms. “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeez, How did all of you ask that at exactly the same time? You scare me sometimes. Yes, I’m fine. I just got freaked out by all of the people. You two have a game to get to.”

“We don’t have to sit in the front,” Abby suggested.

“And you don’t have to wear the hoodie. It’s a stupid tradition anyway.”

Simon turned his head to press a kiss to Bram’s cheek. “I think it’s cute.” Bram rolled his eyes, but only to hide the blush creeping to his face. “Now let me go,” Simon ordered. Bram laughed and stood up.

“Come on, Nick.”

“Let’s kick some ass!” Nick practically leaped down from the bleachers, and they sprinted for the door.

Abby looped her arm through Simon’s. “The back?”

“Just for today.”

“If you say so.” They stood again, and this time, they made it to the gym floor.

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

Fireball

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, mentions of Dean and Castiel

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Oral on female, reference to Oral on male), drinking, a tiny bit of Dom!Sam

Words: 1,001

Author’s Note: So I wrote this thing after taking a real shot of Fireball, or three, then waited a day and corrected errors. So whatever happens in this, it what I wrote while a little more than slightly buzzed! This is for @winchester-writes Birthday Drinking Challenge! So congrats on being legal!! :D My prompts were Fireball Whiskey and “He did it! This time, I swear, it wasn’t me!”

"He did it! I swear, this time, it wasn't me!!" I call out as the bunker door opens, revealing the younger Winchester. A look of confusion crosses his features before his hazel eye land on the bottle of Fireball Whiskey on the table. My outcry was an attempt at defending myself against Dean leaving a bottle of Fireball with me as he left for a hunt with Cas.

"Y/N, no. Please tell me you haven't been drinking that." He pleads, setting the bags of food on the table alongside the cinnamon whiskey.

"Maaaayyyyybbbbbeeeeee." I slur, a giggle leaving my lips as well. Sam looks down at the floor and chuckles at my flushed cheeks and silly tone.

"You need to get some rest." He finally says, his hands reaching out to grab my shoulders. I grip his arms as he pulls me up, his strength and gentleness forcing more giggles out of my throat.

"Why are you laughing?" Sam asks as he lifts me into his arms to carry me to my room.

"Cause you're funny. And smart. And pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?"

"Mhm. Prettiest boy I ever done seen." I keep laughing, and at some point, I wonder if I can die from laughing too much.

"Well thank you." Sam smiles, pushing open my door with his shoulder.

"Saaaammmmmyyyyyy. I don't waaaaaaanna go to beeeeeed." I whine as he sets me down on the edge of my maroon comforter.

"Too bad. You are really drunk and need to get some sleep." Sam yanks off one of my colored socks, turning to toss it in the hamper when I make my move. I slide down my bed, until my face is level with his and our hips are aligned. The moment he felt my hips flush with his, a gasp leaves his lips as he turns, our noses brushing and breath intermingling.

"Sammy. I don't waaaaaaanna go to bed." I lean forward, my lips brushing against his as I pull him in with my words.

"You need sleep, Y/N." He stutters, his hands moving from his head to the bed behind us, back to his head.

"No. I need you, Sam." I press my lips against his and I know he can taste the whiskey on my breath. He pulls back after a moment, regaining his composure as I feel his erection poking me in the thigh.

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Actually Sammy, I do. And I’m not going to bed until I get what I want.” I slur, again moving forward to connect our lips. Sam, being Sam, dodges out of the way and brings me back up to rest on the bed as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

“Y/N, you need some sleep. Let go.”

“No. I want you, Sammy, not sleep.” Sam thinks for a moment before leaning down and whispering in my ear.

“How about this: I’ll make you come on my tongue, then you go to sleep. You can pay me back tomorrow.” His voice sends a shiver through me that stops directly at my center.

“Yes.”

Sam quickly rips my clothes from my body, bra and panties included as his lips dance down my body. His tongue circles around my nipple, the warmth of his mouth quickly followed by the chill of the air as he switches to the other. His lips form a path down towards my hips, his fingers holding them down as they buck up towards his grazing mouth and tongue.

“Hold still. Otherwise you’re going to go to sleep without coming.” Sam moves over my center, skipping it to suck marks into my inner thighs before licking a broad stripe up my folds. The movement is so sudden, I can’t stop my hips from following his tongue.

“I thought I told you to hold still.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“One more chance, baby girl.” Then his tongue laps at my folds eagerly, the muscle twisting around my clit. I am not supposed to move, but he said nothing about noise, the screams and cries of his name leaving my lips. My fingers lace through his hair and tug as I feel my release creeping closer and closer at every pass of his tongue over my slick opening.

“Come for me, Y/N.”

The sound of anything else get completely drowned out by my screams of his name as his tongue works me through the most intense orgasm of my life.

“Woah. Sammy. Okay. Your t-”

“Nope. Bed. Now.” He commands as he stands, his lips glistening with my juices.

“Okay.” I agree, his stern tone sending shivers down my body as I crawl under the covers and pass out instantly.

I awake with a pounding headache and sore muscles, yet despite that, I remember everything that happened the night before. I wonder for a moment if things will be awkward, the decide that I’m going to make sure it’s not. I pull on a shirt and shorts, exiting my room and heading towards the library, my feet slapping against the cool concrete. I enter the library to see Sam seated at one of the tables, the scent of him and books filling my nose as I move towards him, my task clear in my mind. He glances up to see me walking towards him, determination in my eyes as he speaks.

“Y/N, I gotta talk to you ab-” But I don’t allow him to finish before I plant my lips on his, effectively cutting him off. I pull back to see this look of pure shock and admiration painted on his face.

“Sam. I didn’t want you to find out that I like you the way you did, but now that you know, I figured what better time to repay you for your, service, last night.” I smirk. Sam takes a moment to proccess this before he speaks again.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, trust me, Sammy. I do.”

Abbi’s Fav’s Tag List: @classicteenagenothing @22kaitlyn22 @jared-padaloveme @loveisblindyouidiots @eileenlikesyou-maybe @impalaimagining @nothin-after-79

Sammy’s Girls: @anacfs @impala-dreamer @cyrilconnelly

[silentwaters4]

For @fangirl0170...reader works for NCIS as requested. Enjoy!

Y/N strolled into the lab, slightly late. She snagged her lab coat and threw it on. She looked up to be greeted by her co-worker as well as her father.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized. “What?” Gibbs asked, “Sleep through the alarm?” She smirked. “More like I beat the alarm and lost track of time.”

Gibbs smirked before he turned back to Abby. She cocked a brow before turning back to her monitor. She clicked her screen a few times.

“Like I was saying, the blood residue on the windshield doesn’t match the blood on the seat,” Abby explained. “So, we have a missing body,” Gibbs deduced, “Thanks Abbs.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. She grinned before he handed her a caf-pow. Smirking, he gave Y/N’s temple a kiss as well.

“Glad to see you make it, kid.”

Gibbs left the lab. Y/N turned to Abby who was holding a folder out to her. Y/N immediately opened it and started scanning. Her eyebrows raised.

“We’re working with the FBI’s BAU?” she questioned, “Why would he allow that?” “He trusts us,” Abby quipped, “Well, the evidence, but us too. They’ve got some lookers, too.” Y/N chuckled before moving to the monitor. “What do we got?” “Yeah, you aren’t related,” Abby teased.

“Boss,” Y/N exclaimed as her and Abby ran into the squad room, “We found something!” “And it was not easy to spot,” Abby added.

Gibbs smirked before turning to Hotchner and his team. He couldn’t help but squint at Reid’s expression as he noticed the pair.

“You’ve met Abby Sciuto, already, but this is her forensic partner, Y/N Gibbs.” ”Gibbs?” Morgan piped up, “Like you?” He nodded before simply stating, “Yeah.” She waved, eyes on Reid. “Nice to meet you all. Now, to the meat of the case.”

Y/N started to ramble about palm print they had found. There was a line on the print that confused both Abby and herself. After comparing it to everything else, they came to the conclusion that the ‘unsub’ had actually hurt themselves while attacking. (Apparently, the profile suggested it was a man). Reid couldn’t help but to stare as Y/N and Abby bounce off each other with ease. He was captivated by the pair. One moreso than the other.

“The way the cut affected the print suggests that it wasn’t any kind of paper cut,” Abby finished, “It probably snagged a tendon in his hand.” Reid’s eyes widened. “Do you know which tendon?” “Based on the position of the cut, as well as the angle of the print, he probably cut the Flexor Tendon of his index finger,” Y/N told him. “Is that important?” Tony asked aloud. “It could be,” JJ started. “It’s a way to identify the unsub apart from other men who fit the profile. It he cut the tendon closest to his thumb, his hand will not only be scarred but also curled slightly at the finger,” Reid rambled. “Meaning,” Abby interpreted with a smirk, “this guy can’t use his hand all too well anymore.” “Could that act as a stressor?” Y/N asked.

The BAU team turned to face the scientist. She blushed slightly as she noticed Reid surprised and impressed. She shrugged.

“Abby’s been keeping me updated,” she mumbled. “It could act as one,” Prentiss jumped in with a smirk. “Which could mean digression,” Hotch added grimly.

The two teams set to work leaving Y/N and Abby in the squad room. The tattooed woman was smirking. Y/N blushed.

“What?” “Told you he was a looker.” Y/N smiled softly. “Yeah. I’ll give you that.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N whispered to Abby, “He’s totally going to ask you out.” Abby took a sip of her beer. “I don’t think so.”

Tony and Derek slid up to the two, caging them in at the bar. Tony sipped his drink from a straw.

“What are you ladies talking about?” Y/N smiled, holding her straight face. “How we’d kill someone with no forensic evidence.”

Both Tony and Abby burst into laughter as Derek threw up his hands. She burst into giggles, not able to hold her poker face. Y/N raised her beer.

“No harm, okay?” she asked. Morgan nodded, clinking beers. “Okay. But, could you really do that?” Abby and Y/N shared a sly smirk. “Maybe,” they replied in unison.

Morgan chuckled while turning away from the bar. He patted Reid on the back. He smiled.

“Remind me not to get on their bad side.”

Reid chuckled before facing the girls and Tony. Abby discreetly nudged Tony’s side.

“Let’s go watch Gibbs and Hotch,” she encouraged. Tony knit his brows before getting it. “Oh, yeah. Five bucks says Hotch’ll break first.”

The two left the bar while leaving Y/N and Reid to themselves. The scientist shyly looked at her beer. She raised her hopeful gaze to Reid’s.

“Could I buy you a drink?” He smiled. “I, uh, don’t drink actually.” She smirked. “How about root beer? You drink that?” He nodded with a chuckle. “Yeah. I do.” “I’ll buy you one of those,” she decided before asking the bartender, “So, you normally work cases like this?” He nodded. “Actually, this was one of the least gruesome.” “No kidding?” she asked, “The forensics have to be hell over there.” “Yeah. I bet.”

The two smiled before falling silent. Spencer said a quick thank you to the bartender, grabbing his root beer. He took a swig while watching Y/N out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed before speaking.

“You’re really smart,” he commented. She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but I’m nowhere near as smart as you.” “I don’t really think intelligence can be quantified,” he added, “So, you could be smarter than me.” Y/N chuckled. “That would be something.” Reid smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh...Did you want to maybe get out of here?” She immediately quirked a brow. “Spencer Reid, are you asking me on a date?” He blushed and nodded. “I think so.” She beamed at him. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m saying yes, then.”

Spencer looked at her with wide eyes. He smiled before setting the root beer back on the bar. Y/N did likewise with her drink. She stood up and intertwined his fingers with her own. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her dad having a conversation with Rossi. Well, Rossi was mostly talking. Smirking, she pulled Spencer toward the back. He knit his brows.

“Why are we going this way?” She smirked. “This way, my dad won’t see us and want to intimidate you.”

His eyes widened as he gulped. It dissolved into a smile as the pair made it to the street.

Perma-tags: @dontbeamenacetotheforce ; @ttelesilla ; @jumperswellies

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[frankthomas090-blog]

abby winter yoga - The New Angle On Abby Winters Lesbian Porn Just Released

In town for a bit on business, he wants to have some casual fun. 5 inches and THICK- his emphasis. Hes at the top end of length for my preference, but self describing it as thick got my attention. Sometimes theres just an instant connection or chemistry, drawing you in so fast with a new person you just kind of dance around the usual screening process.

Described his cock as 7. Average height, better than average build, green eyes. Hes my age, 31, but with the right combination of personality and body- I can look past it. Gimme that thick dick. This Ginger was respectful and straight to the point from the get-go on Plenty of Fish. Hes former Army- he had a pic up in his dress uniform. He sends me his number, we text briefly, and make the plan to meet that same day.

I appreciated his ability to be direct without being rude or vulgar. I like em young and hung! Also, I give it a 95% hes well endowed- orange is the new Black. At no point did he ask for nudes, or ask endless intimate questions- I give it a 50/50 chance of being a satisfactory encounter given our lack of communication beforehand, but I cant resist a Ginger to save my life.

He passed with flying colors. Im telling you, this isnt rocket science. I feel my lady business respond immediately. In our very brief texting we went over our Dos and Donts, as well as both agreeing we like aggressive AND passionate sex. Dont ever forget that.

The way hes kissing me I can already tell this will likely be a very good encounter. " Its early afternoon, what a great way to spend it. Upon his arrival I am freshly showered, bed is made, and Im wearing t-shirt that says "MEETS OR EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS. He sits next to me, we awkwardly exchange hellos, and then he moves right in to kissing me. Not overly eager, not sloppy, makes you want it right meow.

Hes not pushing my body down while shoving his tongue down my throat. He starts lifting up my shirt after pawing me and groping for the goodies- having discovered my nipples are pierced and briefly sucking them, its time for layers to come off.

He peels his layers off as Im taking mine off and comes right back to mauling me so expertly I couldnt resist. Hes kissing me like hes excited to see me, and hes real good at it. Hes maneuvering me onto my back while he takes a top position.

Moving his head lower he pulls my panties off but with such reckless abandon theyre still on my left leg. Good kissers are also known to be good lovers, from my observation. Youre taking your clothes off, too. I dont recognize the alphabet hes writing, maybe its Spanish.

The moment he kisses my thighs its all over. His eagerness to put his mouth on my slit is palpable. He didnt just dive face first into my nonsense salad- first he ran his tongue up my outer labia on both sides and it felt soft and gentle and GIVE ME MORE. Fuck God sounds totally different when Im cumming and yelling nonsense. Right around now is where I learned Im actually bilingual, but whatever language I was stuttering out can only be whispered or shouted; theres no in between.

Oh my god hes licking my asshole- I have sex Tourettes. Do you think Jesus and God can tell youre not swearing AT them? he pushes my legs up and licks up and down, then just down. I can barely take it, stretched to maximum capacity for comfort, and even then hes mildly uncomfortably large. And it consists mostly of very short, hostile sounding 4 letter words.

DONT STOP, DONT STOP, DONT STOP. Once he was done tracing and teasing I felt the warm, wet touch of his whole mouth open around my clitoris, moving his tongue in ways I cant imagine or describe. Holding my body close to his and pushing his hips up into me, my limbs instinctively wrap around him like a slutty octopus. His length is perfectly spot on- any longer and he just wouldve www.abby winters.com been too much.

GOD DAMN YOU HAVE A BIG DICK. Pushing my limits for size, I question if my lungs have enough room to inflate fully while hes all the way inside. Id put him right around 7 inches in length, my preference being 6.

With my pelvis lifted to the right level, hed shove his tongue in me as my insides start to contract with the orgasm. Literally cumming on his tongue. For sure hes wearing the biggest condom commercially manufactured, or a trash bag. My hips would buck but his arms would find their way around them and hold them in place, while my legs stretched upward trying to walk on the ceiling. We didnt transition out of missionary, he sat up and spread my legs wide while plunging into me with force and conviction.

He rolls on a condom and pushes himself inside me- my eyes rolled back so far I saw memories from my childhood. I sound maybe like a dying rabbit as my fingers pull his short hair and hold his head firmly in place. I didnt keep count, I was much too busy screaming his praises to the Gods.

He gets his and we collapse away from each other. As soon as I begin to cum, back go the legs, down goes the head, and hed ride my climax on his face. When I would start to climax, hed withdraw quickly and push my legs up around my head. He puts his underwear back on and Im guessing hes leaving now, sad times, but then he hops back onto the bed and I take the opportunity to snuggle up into his armpit and touch on his body while I bask in the afterglow.

He does this for every single orgasm. Im wrapped around him and mostly content. I cant get my mouth around it right, my hand doesnt wrap around it. Its awkward to handle, do I need a license? I feel like my certs are out of date because this newfangled cocktraption is just outside of my scope of experience.

Good Lord, who taught you to do that? I gift him my mouth because hes more than earned it. I could definitely go for more, but hes not some 20-something with endless stamina. He pounds away at me from different positions, I like him behind me because I like his stroke and how he braces himself by holding my hips down. Clearly he gets most of his satisfaction from pleasing his lady.

Im not going to argue, and somebody has been listening to my thoughts and dreams again because this man was made in a fucking lab just for me. The sun goes down around 4pm right now so thats not a good indicator either. what even is time, man. Im amused I come across that way- Im all about those afterglow cuddles.

Between our rounds we break for cuddles and snuggles- he confesses he assumed, from my profile on PoF, that he was to go after the first round and I wasnt much for affection or cuddling afterward. He enjoys the cuddles too, and doesnt like to just leave after a hookup unless thats her preference. Please me you thick dick Georgia peach!

Take care of your partner after you fuck them. He enjoys my head game but it just makes him want to fuck me. He gets off twice more and I have no idea how much time has passed. HOLD MEEEEEEEEEEE, pet my hair and tell me Im pretty. Fool I dont get to round 3 very often with men in their supposed prime, so whos more thrilled! Hes an intuitive partner and he reads my cues very well, plus he just wants to bring me all the pleasure.

Apparently he doesnt get to round 3 very often, and hes kind of thrilled about it. His size is intimidating and hes more shaped for vaginal feel goods. I like how he lays it down, and I like anal with the right partner. He admits hes never been able to have anal successfully, and I can understand why.

The way hes shaped, getting the head in is not the hard part- he gest wider towards the middle and base, like a fucking road cone. I dont doubt that hell follow my lead and respect my signals if things get too intense. The last time things started heating up Im on my belly and hes pressing the head of his monster cock on my asshole- Im doing word problems in my head about the likelihood of this being a good idea or not.

He apologizes for cumming too soon- I had to hold back my school girl giggle. He flipped me over and fucked me hard up until I told him to say my magic words. What a dear, sweet lover. He actually thought he owed me an apology after our FOURTH consecutive romp. Tell me you love fucking me. Ive got shit to do as well. 10/10 would fuck again.

I tell him point-blank Id like to see him again before he leaves, he happily agrees. We were unable to make it happen, he was just too big and we didnt do enough warmup, but I took about half of him before tapping out. He texts me asking what my plans are for the evening, as hed like abby winters galleries to grab a couple of beers and a late dinner.

Fast forward 24 hours. When posed with options like this, I always ask WHY NOT BOTH? I tell him Im going to shower and meet him at the restaurant bar near his hotel, he instructs me to bring my lube. I dont really do compromises. Or I could come over to his hotel room after and he could just fuck my brains out all night.

Maybe Id like to join him? In the time it took me to excitedly shower and keelhaul the warts off my body, my phone starts showing notifications of other interested men folk. The words fall out of his mouth and he explodes seconds later, to his own surprise. why end with a OR when theres always an AND?

He tells me I cant miss him at the restaurant bar- hes wearing a cowboy hat. (You thought that hyperlink went to the movie reference, didntcha? CANT TALK NOW, THICKEST DICK EVER WANTS TO TAKE ME TO POUND TOWN! Oh goody, I know what Im wearing later. Can honestly say hes a good one.

Test me, Ive got true grit. ) The company was great, hes fun to talk to. Cleaned up, its time for him to go he has things to do. As were leaving I ask how many Magnum XL condoms he has- he says 4. He confesses he doesnt generally have his lady spend the night because hes very affectionate and waking up next to someone hes spent the better part of the night pleasing, can lead to him having feelings.

We need to buy more, STAT. I feel like a teenager again. We talk about our kids, divorce, he tells me about his previous military experience, and what hes doing now. Rolling into Wal-Mart at that hour, with giant shit-eating grins on our faces, buying only condoms.

You think youre big, you aint big until you must have custom condoms. I get what youre saying, were gonna fool around and then I gotta GTFO. Sexy Ginger man with a good head on his shoulders and giant cock, somebody please snatch this man up quick haha or dont, and let him keep sharing that beautiful endowment with all the ladies.

Back to the hotel room, we barely make it to the bed and hes on me. Details from here are fuzzy, but he went down for ages and we fucked around in every position. Dont get it twisted; theres approximately 10 million condoms in my purse, but they wouldnt fit him. Remember, if youre hard to size on either end of the spectrum theres a UK company called TheyFit that you can enter your measurements into and theyll get you fitted with one of their 66 sizes.

We took a smoke break before trying www.abby winters yoga abby winters.com (linked site) again, and he tells me hes half Mexican. This perfect Ginger man is also a beaner. He was made just for me. While he was behind me licking and sucking my clit, shoving his tongue inside my pussy and my asshole, I hear the top of the lube bottle click. At some point I wore his Stetson when we come back inside, naked.

He positions himself at the backdoor and gently adds pressure until I whimper or tense up. Working together slowly, gently, following my vocal cues I take him to the base. Pushed to the hilt we pause. Its more than mildly uncomfortable, but if we take it slow itll feel great.

I can feel it cold and slippery, then hear him stroking it on himself. I swear to Kylie Minogue I cant make this stuff up. Im a little drunk- 3 drinks on a mostly empty stomach, Ill sit on your lap and call you Daddy if you want. He picks up the pace, we start talking dirty to each other. I have not been quiet at all during any of this, but now Im incapable of controlling the primal animal noises Im bleating into the bedding.

He was having some performance issues but was bound and determined to make sure I enjoyed our time as much as possible. I can feel him shaking a bit, hes going to cum soon. Its late, the booze and orgasms are sedating me.

Hes down close on me, wrapping his big hands around mine, entwining our fingers, crossing arms under my chin as he grinds into me. I tell him to withdraw slowly. I wake up hazily to roll over and his arms find their way around me again, hes a perfect big spoon. After several loud, amazing orgasms, he gets down close and pushes himself inside me all at once.

Rocking into me Im wrapped around him in my koala hug. Hes holding me and Im lost in it. I awake fully to him sliding down the bed, tossing my right leg over and burying his face in my morning pussy. Digging my fingers into his back and pulling his short hair, I dont want it to end. Im cold and reach for a sheet, he covers us immediately and Im back out like a light.

He slows down but hes plunging into me with the kind of force and quivering body that lets me know its now. Pushing my skirt up, pulling my panties to the side, he takes my box in his mouth and I hold on for dear life, staring up at the mirrored ceiling I get to watch myself almost cum in his mouth.

Morning sex was more passionate, and a bit briefer. Hes even kissing me with my dragon breath. We havent even hit the floor button yet. When we get to the ground floor we smoke together outside, recap our enjoyment with each other. My back hurts from how he so violently throws my legs back to eat my pussy while Im cumming, both my pussy and asshole are recovering from their respective stretching and beating, and Im walking on a broken toe.

We get dressed together, and he goes to walk me out but as soon as the elevator door closed he dropped to his knees. He tells me after two days with me, he wont be able to fuck for a week. God damn that was good. He reaches up, hits L, and continues his works. 10/10 would fuck any time. I am completely satisfied. This will happen one week from now, when he has free time again.

I scamper home to sit on frozen bags of peas, pound water, and cuddle all my pillows. tt/2i9A4Cy /u/DDfnord Link is directly to this story http://ift. This entry on my sex blog has hyperlinks, if youd like to see it in full I write on WordPress and the blog name is All The Dicks.