#bearded chris is the best chris

[tracthousing]

Chris DiNardi breaking hearts 💪🔥😢

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[angrythingstarlight]

How would Bucky react if Bee came home one day and had a bouquet of flowers that one of the PTA dads gave her for Malyshka? 👀

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumbleebee

Word Count: Drabble

A/N: Written on my phone, unbeta'd. Part of the bumblebee series.

Bucky carefully takes the flowers from Bumblebee's hands, his affable grin sliding off his face when he stands up, towering over you.

"Who gave you these?" His voice is deceptively calm, in stark dichotomy with the storm brewing in his keen blue eyes. His darkening gaze sends a shiver down your spine and it takes every ounce of your willpower to suppress your smile. This is probably not the best time to tease your mobster. Bucky knows the answer without even glancing at the card attached to the bouquet, he merely wants confirmation.

"Bucky," you stretch out his name, wrapping an arm around his neck, going on your tiptoes, you smooth the lines forming between his furrowed brows with a light touch. "I barely remember the guy. Chris something I think. It's not important."

"I remembers Mommy. Mr. Cole gave 'em to you and remembers how he—" Bee states a little too helpfully, squishing a stray lavender petal in her palm, blissfully unaware of what she started when she skipped in the house straight to Bucky to show him Cole's flowers."—he wanna touch your butts. You remembers?"

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"Thank you, Bumblebee." Bucky sees your lips twitch and a dark, menacing glint creeps over his bearded face. God, he's sexy when he gets like this. One day you'll figure out why that particular look makes your knees weak.

"You welcome, Papa," she sings out. Done with her part in this fiasco, she heads off to her playroom, leaving you alone with Bucky.

"Oh Cole. Right. That one. Yeah, they might be from him," you admit.

"Cole Turner. Farmer. Divorced father of two. Works upstate. Asthmatic." His gaze flicks to the flowers crumbling in his grasp. "Cheap."

Bucky knows all about the farmer, ever since the man first flirted with you. Bucky's been biding his time, content to let you handle him.

Until now.

If the way he's crushing the stems in his large tattooed hand or the way his heady gaze pins you in place wasn't enough to reveal how your mobster feels about another man giving you flowers, his accent slipping out as he lists off what he knows, says more than his words ever could.

Oh, he's furious.

And jealous.

It's not a bad look on him. You glance down and see the veins along the back of his hand, your eyes trailing up to his thick bicep barely contained by his tailored suit, and over to his face just in time to catch his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not bad at all.

Still, you can't let him hurt the asthmatic farmer even if Cole can't take a hint.

"James, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." You clutch the sides of his jaw, making him look down at you. "I don't care about the flowers. Or what's his name. I love you." His expression doesn't change but you see his eyes soften. Pulling him down, your lips brush over his ear as you whisper. "I only want you. No one else. And if you agree to leave him alone, I'll show you how much you mean to me."

He knows that and he trusts you. He's not concerned about that. Bucky believes you're fucking irresistible and he can't blame other men for wanting you as badly as he does. Actually, he can and he will. Bucky drops the flowers and takes your face in his hands, his warm palms brush over your cheeks as he tilts your head back. "I'm going to need a lot of convincing Malyshka. It's going to take all night."

"Promise you're not going to do anything to him."

"I won't hurt him," Bucky offers with a casual shrug.

"Bucky."

"That's the best I can do. And Malyshka, you should be focused on how you're going to handle all the things I'm about to do to you." A smirk pulls at his lips and his unrelenting gaze skates over you in one smooth pass. His voice deepens, the sound vibrating over your skin as his lips find the side of your throat. "Remember what happened the last time you promised to make me feel better?"

Oh.

"I--"

"Don't worry, I'm about to remind you."

The following Monday.

You're dropping Bee off when you overhear Keaton talking to another mother. "We'll need someone to cover Cole's snacks for the rest of the year. I can't believe he up and left like that."

Your eyes widen as you subtly glance over your shoulder, listening carefully while taking Bee's little backpack off.

"What happened?"

Bucky what did you do? Without being too obvious, you take a step closer to the gossiping duo, their voices carrying over the sounds of the classroom.

"Apparently he just inherited a house in D.C. He told Kristen that it was left to him by some uncle but one of the conditions is he has to live there for ten years to keep it," she states, picking her keys off the desk. "And get this, right after he finds out about the place, I'm talking two seconds after he hangs up with the lawyer, he gets an offer to take over some vendor that's a mile or two from his new place but they wanted him to start immediately. So he...." Her voice starts to fade as she strolls down the hallway.

No, he didn't. Laughter spills out, you slap your hand over your mouth to conceal the sound and wave goodbye to Bee. You spend the entire walk back to the car teetering between amusement and astonishment.

Bucky's waiting for you, leaning against the side of the car. A gorgeous, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. But it's the smug grin on his face that has your attention. He doesn't have an ounce of shame in him and you both know he'll do it again.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" You say, taking the flowers from his hand. That cocky grin of his widens as he opens the door for you. "And insane."

"Only when it comes to you."

[barbwritesstuff]

I'm struck with a sudden and unprovoked need to explain the romantic dynamics in Blood Moon and Thicker Than. I don't know why, and will not be taking questions at this time.

There are eight romanacable characters in Blood Moon.

Marco

Carrie

Vicky

Ed

Sergi

Shawnie

Roe

Farro

And nine in Thicker Than.

Tracy

Marcel

Erin

Nathan

Iliya

Freya

Ravima

Chris

Minjo

Starting with the werewolves...

Marco's whole shtick is the best friend. He's the goofy, kinda scrappy golden retriever guy who is fun, a little awkward, and prone to running his mouth. That dynamic doesn't change if you romance him. When it comes to the bedroom, he's super versatile. Top? Bottom? Rough? Gentle? Left? Right? No matter your preference, he's game.

Carrie brings the baggage so you don't have to. She needs a lot of love and understanding, especially at first, but if you're kind to her she'll let her guard down and open up. I wanted her dynamic with the MC to be all about that trust and that extends into the romantic and intimate scenes. Carrie's banter with the MC is her way of feeling safe... so yeah, that's in the sexy bits too.

Vicky is my Batman. Strong, stoic, silent... even when perhaps she shouldn't be. She's been through hell and back and her number one mission in life is to make sure no one she loves has to experience what she did. She also knows kungfu, because of course she does. Her romantic scenes are very, very gentle.

Ed is a sassy wee sweetheart. A genuinely good, and really smart guy who has to try so hard not to roll his eyes at the antics of some of the other werewolves. He's never dated anyone before, so the romantic dynamic is a little slower, a little sweeter, and a little softer. Because he's a virgin he'll set some boundaries in the bedroom. After all, he's still figuring it all out.

Sergi is a little late edition to the Blood Moon love interest roster. When I first invented the character, he was originally going to be way more of a background character than he ended up being. There's a bit of an age gap here, as Serge is a little older than the MC, and the relationship develops right at the end of the game. It's a kinda messy dynamic, a lot of trauma, helping each other recover through love, etc.

Shawnie is hot and she knows it. Curvy, sexy, playful, fun. Because the other female love interests lean a little bit bleaker, I wanted Shawnie to be for people who wanted a lighter, bubblier, more fun romance. That doesn't mean she's shallow or simple, but that she takes her fun where there is fun to be taken.

Roe is the alpha of the other pack and has some pretty intense feelings about power and being in charge. Expect some tussling in the bedroom. They've been an alpha for only a little while and have only recently started to realise how lonely it can be at the top. A lot of their romance is them realising they have that wall around themselves and figuring out how to navigate around it.

Farro is the only love interest in Blood Moon who is 'missable'. I.E. Depending on your choices, you may not meet him at all. He looks like a werewolf, even among werewolves, big and muscular with long hair and a beard. He's also a dad, a widower, and super introverted. However, behind closed doors, he's rather intense.

And now for the vampires (and non vampires) of Thicker Than...

Tracy is a bitch with a heart of gold. She's using you to escape the clutches of the cult that she's been trapped in for decades, and isn't quite sure if she can trust you either. But, despite all her sharp edges, she's the most ride-or-die person in the world. She needs some tenderness, but isn't shy about desire or romance.

Marcel does a really good job of acting the part of the scary, shadowy vampire lord, but the truth is, he's rather too easily charmed by plucky fledglings who push back against the system. He's also kinda a freak in the bedroom.

Erin is complicated. She's been fighting against the vampire court for decades and is a figurehead of the revolution... even though, in some ways, she doesn't really believe in it any more. I haven't written her intimate scenes yet, but the vibe I'm reaching for is a little messy, a little angry, just like she is. Also lowkey thinking of adding a threesome in with her and her human girlfriend in Chapter Four. I dunno.

Nathan is the vampire hunter, so if I had to give him a trope, it'd be enemies to lovers. He's kinda a badarse, but also really bad at looking after his own arse. He is, after all, catching feelings for a vampire. Also, he 100% doesn't get enough sunlight. The vibe is I-don't-know-if-I-should-kill-you-or-kiss-you.

Iliya is one big walking cliche, and that's why I love him. I wanted him to be the bodyguard romance, and he is that. He's also kind of a bastard in a I-will-betray-you-but-then-maybe-unbetray-you kinda way. Big, a little cheeky, and very hungry.

Freya is soft and kind and very trusting in almost every way. Unfortunately, that makes her a little (occasionally a lot) gullible. She wants to believe the best in people, even when sometimes it puts her in danger. My intension with her character was to contrast it with her witchy powers. She's a sucker, but she's also one of the most powerful necromancers alive (and is capable of consulting with some of the dead ones). Her romance is, like everything else about her, very soft and cosy. She will only use her powers on you if you're into it.

Ravima is perhaps my most classic vampire romance. They're dark, they're sinister, they're obsessed with art, with knowledge, with anything that will make immortality a little less boring. They also kinda want to eat you, but they also want to fuck you, and that's kinda the whole vibe.

Chris is my first (and last because oh holy hell the coding is hard) gender selectable love interest. They're only available to players who select the divorcee origin at the start of the game. That's because, they're the main character's ex spouse. Perhaps obviously, the romance route is very second chance romance.

Minjo has the weird honour of having the most Romeo and Juliet romance I've ever written. She's team werewolf, and you're a vampire. She's also a total MILF, and only available to characters who are also parents. Bond over being single and raising kids. I wanted to give her a dry sense of humour, and a down to earth sorta charm.

Anyway.

My number one goal with these romances was to make them all unique. I didn't want to copy paste the love scenes and change the names. I wanted them to all feel like different people and for their romance routes to feel different and unique to them. I don't know if I've fully achieved that. There's some that do overlap with each other, but I think I've managed to hit a few different spots on the love interest spectrum.

[tracthousing]

Chris DiNardi: 💪🤳🏽😍

Christopher Michael DiNardi

[gilbertscurls]

scruff and hunger — matt sturniolo

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, beard kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, whimpering

When Matt first showed up with that scruffy, grown-out beard, you barely recognized him.

The clean-shaven boy you knew? Gone. Replaced by this rugged, rough version with dark whiskers shadowing his jaw, cheeks, and that perfect throat you wanted to press your lips to.

Your jaw drops.

He raises a brow. “What?”

You blink. “What the fuck is that?”

He scratches his cheek, like it’s casual. “Didn’t feel like shaving.”

You stare. “That is not ‘didn’t feel like shaving.’ That is I’m going to eat you alive and leave beard burn on your thighs.”

He grins.

“Say please.”

Two minutes later you’re straddling his face.

His back is flat on your bed, hoodie still on. His wrists are gripping your thighs, guiding you forward like he’s been waiting for this moment all damn day.

“You’re—fuck—you’re serious about this, huh?” he asks, voice muffled beneath you.

You plant your knees on either side of his head and look down.

“I want your beard between my thighs, Matt. Make it count.”

He groans like it physically hurts him. “Jesus Christ.”

Then he drags you down.

His tongue is already inside you. Slow and deep. Lapping you up like he’s starving.

But the beard — the beard is the star of the show.

It’s rough. Scratchy. Deliciously irritating.

It drags against the soft skin of your thighs, rubs up against your clit every time he shifts, and burns in the best way when he presses in harder.

You grind against his face. He lets you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging hard. He groans into your cunt, the vibration making you moan so loud it echoes off the walls.

“Matt—fuck—your face—”

He chuckles. Then sucks your clit so hard your vision whites out.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasp. “I’m—holy fuck—”

And he just keeps going.

He holds you there — thighs trembling, hips twitching — as he keeps licking and rubbing his beard against you, overstimulating you until you’re writhing above him, dripping down his chin.

You come again. Harder. Louder.

Your legs give out. You collapse forward, twitching, crying into the pillow as he keeps licking you through it.

“Still hate the beard?” he murmurs, voice wrecked, mouth still soaked.

“Don’t you dare shave it,” you whisper.

He smiles.

And pulls you back down for round three.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming, @backwardshatnick, @whore4chris, @ivysturnss

[4ngelrealm]

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝟰 𝘂

chris dixon x reader 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝟰 𝗨, c. dixon: four months is not enough time to get over someone you love, especially when they show up at your best mate's party. (hurt/comfort; exes to ???; mentions of a previous breakup; angst to fluff)

There is an excruciating tenderness to the way Chris thinks about the past. A softness to the way he looks at a sunset and remembers the way the gold used to thread through your hair. It's a reverent fondness that flickers into a somber sadness. The gold sets with the sun and leaves him within the deep blue shadows of the late night.

The past four months seemed to be stuck in the deep indigo of melancholy, the kind that usually only creeps up on you in the dead of night, walking the line between memory and haunting. Video shoots were a little less energetic, he didn't go out as much, he left halfway through while watching football with Arthur and George. In a sick way, he wished you'd parted ways like skin from leather in the summer. He wished it ended with a sharp sting rather than a quiet, almost imperceptible closing of a door.

Chris scrubbed a hand down his face, the scent of his aftershave lingering. He looked cleaner than he had in a while, the edges of his beard sharp and his skin freshly washed, but he didn't feel clean. The memories that clung to the most obscure parts of his life━your toothbrush still in the holder, finding a t-shirt of yours between loads of laundry, a lip gloss and hair tie of yours that he'd held onto for you on a night out still tucked into his hoodie pocket.

He met his own eyes in the mirror, running a hand absentmindedly through his hair. Chris ran his hands down his shirt, listening to the muted sounds of his friends pregaming in the other room. He's found excuse after excuse to skip out on going to the bar or the club to the point of being 'sick' six times in the past four months, but there's no excuse under the sun that'd allow him to skip Arthur's birthday.

When Chris finally makes it out of the bathroom he's greeted with cheers and a shot being pushed into his hand. It's a fruitless effort to wave off a tipsy Becky and he downs the shot, letting the warmth of the alcohol wash over him.

The kitchen is a mess of chatter, empty bottles, condensation rings, and bumping shoulders. The birthday boy is glowing, his cheeks pink from the alcohol and a wide smile splitting his face. Arthur bounds over, tripping on the cuffs of his jeans, and slips an arm around Chris' shoulder.

"I invited her." The words are slurred and slightly incomprehensible, but when Arthur says your name something between a flutter and a break happens in Chris' chest. "And it's my birthday so you can't be mad."

The next few moments blur; a text and Becky's squeal of delight, a few people stumbling to the door, and you being dragged into the kitchen. There's a sickening feeling of familiarity that washes over Chris when you walk in. All the moments of you walking into his apartment dressed to go out or holding a bottle of wine and your favorite movie for a date night. All the times you'd made yourself at home in his space and melded with his world so perfectly that he thought it meant forever.

You look lovely, but Chris thinks the word is too soft, too insufficient to describe you. You've always been beautiful, but after he'd been tucked into the space between your ribs and your soul for so long, he found himself admiring more than your looks. Just looking at you Chris knows the intimate curve of your smile and the intensity of your happiness and the softness of your soul. He knows you, instinctively and wholly.

A passing thought tears Chris from his reverie. Maybe he only used to know you and you've changed yourself, erasing the parts he knew so well. It makes him sick and he finds himself reaching for another beer.

Once the group is significantly buzzed, you less so than the rest of them, you split between two ubers and head to the club. By some miracle━or maybe some sick fate━you end up next to Chris in the way back seat, your thigh pressing to his. He tenses almost instantly, trying to shrink in on himself. You guys broke up. He has no right to occupy your space the way he used to.

Between Chris stuck in his own head performing autopsies on every conversation and doing his best not to touch you, barely notices you nudging his shoulder with yours.

He turns. Entirely quick and all too slow. His heart hammers in his chest and he can't tell if it's eased by your smile or if it hurts worse.

"I'm really glad you're here." You say softly and he sees the double-take in your eyes. "I mean━not that you wouldn't be, but... I'm glad I came and you're here."

Chris blinks and he can tell his moment of silence makes you think you've completely fucked it.

He flips between twelve things he could say to you and stutters beneath his breath. "I'm glad you're here, too."

"I think I only came to see you."

The words slip out before you can manage them. When it's late and you're dissecting the events of the night, you'll blame the shots. The air seems to go still and the chatter in front of you goes mute.

The moment cuts as the uber pulls up to the venue and the group spills out of the car. The night air fills your lungs, cold and full. You're gone before Chris can blink, your arm tucked into Becky's as you're dragged into the bar and onto the dancefloor.

You have no idea how many songs pass and drinks are finished before you find a quiet moment━quiet, meaning music blaring and loud partygoers, but you're no longer in the thick of it. You slip off the dance floor with a deep breath that smells like sweat and musky perfumes and booze. Elbows propped on the sticky wooden bartop you order a water, wanting the haze of the night to clear.

The water is cool as you swallow, calming the buzzing that's thrummed under your skin since you'd been at the boys' flat.

"Hey." It's hesitant in a way you've never known Chris to be.

His hand slides against the small of your back, fingers lingering by your hip. Five months ago, it would've anchored there and he would've pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his body slotting against yours. But time has passed and his hands slip away like a whisper.

"Hey." You say back, your voice already aching━though you don't know if it's from scream-singing the songs or being face-to-face with Chris. "Having fun?"

On the outside, the words are sweet. A simple check in. To Chris they are shattering, a hollow imitation of the love and care the two of you held together.

"I found your sweater the other day." He settles on and cringes. His voice feels too loud, too full, too stumbling.

You smile anyways. "The white one? I've been looking for it."

"Well, you left pretty quickly. Guess it was hard to grab everything."

You sink, stomach churning with embarrassment and regret. You press into him, arm to arm, trying to catch his eye beneath the neon lights. You rest your hand on his forearm, his skin warm just like you remember.

"I regret everything." You say earnestly, voice soft in his ear. "Can we please talk? I understand if you hate me and never want to see me again, but━Fuck, Chris. I need you to know how sorry I am."

He nods and for a second you don't know what it means, but then he's holding on. Chris' hand holds yours softly, loose and barely there but you can feel every point of connection. He pulls you through the crowd and out onto a back patio.

The music seems to mute as the door shuts, the patio bathed in a mix of moonlight and neon lights spilling out through the glass doors. You knew it was cruel to be so optimistic, but the past few months you'd find Chris creeping into your every day even when he wasn't there. You'd play your music, peel an orange, drink your coffee, and call a friend and he was there.

You don't talk. You don't know how to do this and you let the silence lead the conversation until you can calm your racing heart.

"Why didn't you say goodbye?"

Oh. Any thread of sense fell away, the sound of his voice aching like a deft finger pressing into a bruise.

You still and grasp the bannister for balance.

"If I had tried to say goodbye... I wouldn't have been able to leave." You breathe out, stowing your head and letting your hair fall around you like a curtain. "I don't want you to think I left because of you. I left despite you, because I needed to."

Your chest tightens, the ocean ebbing and flowing as Chris presses into your space once more.

"You needed to?" It's slow, testing. Not understanding, but trying. "Needed to get away from me? To what?"

"The last thing I wanted was to be away from you." You let the tears well up and your voice rises in desperation. "You've never left my mind, but it all got too much. The fans, the constant nitpicking of my life, the assumptions... I couldn't do it anymore. I got scared."

"Scared of what?"

You're both desperate now, both grasping at straws trying to find where it all fell apart.

"Scared that I wasn't the one for you, Chris. I saw what people were saying and I got in my head. I thought maybe you'd see it too and they'd convince you it was true."

Chris' hands move to cup your face, holding you like you're something holy and wiping his thumbs across your cheeks like he was tracing the words of his favorite poem.

"You could've talked to me."

"I know, but I freaked. I had already walked out and by then... I just figured you hated me━"

He pulls you in and you melt. You become pliable beneath his palms, and even as you kiss him, you wish you were kissing him. It's soft, but desperate all the same. The kiss is months of mornings without each other and thumbs hovering over each others' contact, but never calling.

"I could never hate you. Darling, I adore you."

You laugh, halfway between relief and disbelief. It's wet and thankful and his favorite sound. He smiles and you know he's telling the truth. He adores you. So you kiss him, and his arms slide to your hips, pulling you in, and you keep kissing him.

a/n: anyways :)

taglist: @phantomveb @Ilikewaytoomanythingz

[buddierealm]

ʚ MISTAKES NEVER LAST — e. diaz x reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wordcount: 5.3k Summary: How long do good things last? Not long enough, probably. Warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of alcohol, this is the pseudocheating chapter, Doug Kendall is his own warning, jealousy, straight up loser4loser A/N: yea i accidentally lit this brick on fire before I threw it, sorry!

On a Sunday morning in mid-November, you wake up to the feeling of being tickled. You can feel a face buried in the crook of your neck, and kisses being planted on the side of your throat, as someone's stubble drags across the skin there. You quickly realize it's Eddie's face, and Eddie's undergrown beard doing all of the tickling. You giggle uncontrollably and squirm in his hold, but his arms around your waist are almost impossible to remove while you're awake, let alone half asleep.

Your eyes slowly open up, as you squint at the rays of sunlight peeking through his curtain. You must've slept over by mistake, something Eddie isn't ever bothered by in the slightest. He's confided in you multiple times that whenever you sleep over it's the best sleep he's had since before his days on active duty.

His fingers inch up your shirt, tickling your stomach. You squeal and you're sure you would've toppled over the bed by now if he hadn't been holding onto you so tightly.

“Eddie!” you yell, still in a fit of laughter, “Please, stop!”

“What'll you give me in return?” he asks, his voice still a little rough with sleep.

“Anything!” you negotiate, still cackling, “Anything, please.”

He finally stops, and plants a messy kiss onto your mouth. You close your eyes and put a hand on his chest, as he swallows up the quiet sounds you make. When he pulls back, he has a winning smile on his lips.

“That was good. Now you owe me 100 more of those and I won't do that ever again,” he teases.

“What? That's entirely too many. And not fair,” you respond.

“You said anything. If you keep whining, I'll ask for more,” he wiggles his eyebrows, trying to convey his innuendo.

You roll your eyes at him, pulling away to sit up, “I don't whine.”

He gets up and picks his shirt off of the floor, pulling it on.

“Mhm, sure you don't,” he comments, making his way into the bathroom.

You throw the first piece of clothing you can find off of the floor at him, but he's already out the door. You quickly realize you've thrown your pants, and sigh because the door is wide open. He walks back into the room, toothbrush in his mouth and then throws the pants at your head.

“Thank you,” you grumble from underneath the fabric.

On the 27th of November, you and Eddie, along with the entire 118, are invited to spend thanksgiving at Athena's, courtesy of one Bobby Nash. You bring both a store-bought cake and a homemade pecan pie, being the overachiever that you are. Eddie just brings a bottle of wine. You call him lazy in the car, and he laughs and threatens to tickle you again. You're on kiss number 27, which means you still owe him 73 until your debt is paid off and you can go back to living without fear.

When you walk in, you greet Athena with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She returns both gladly. She compliments the dessert you brought, and jokes that Eddie should up his game. As you step inside, you greet everyone else, and even though you see them almost every day, this is different. Here, you're faced with the reality of how much of a full life everyone has outside of work. It would've made you incredibly envious before Eddie. But now that you have him and Chris, you can't help but relate. Your life is so, so full, and so much more than just your career with them.

As the night goes on, you begin to feel a little bored. There's very little to talk about when you see these people every day. You know practically everything there is to know about them. But your excitement returns when you get a text from Eddie to come to the bathroom. He's already been there for about three minutes, not to raise suspicion, you assume. So you get up and make your way to the guest bathroom. You knock twice, and he opens the door and pulls you in.

Immediately, he pushes you into the door. His lips crash into yours, and his hands are everywhere. On your hips, up your shirt, trailing the hem of your short skirt. You sigh into his mouth and lean into the long kiss, pulling him closer and delighting in your closeness. You hadn't kissed since that morning, and this was the missing puzzle piece to make your night a little more thrilling. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling the strands free from the gel he uses religiously. He groans into your mouth when you pull him away by it to catch your breath.

“Twenty-eight,” you mutter, through panting breaths.

“Wow. Are you seriously counting down our kisses?” he asks, acting betrayed.

“Don't act like you aren't either. It's why you've been so stingy lately,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes.

“Me? I'm very generous,” he whisper-shouts, “In fact...”

He grabs the sides of your face, while planting what can only be described as a smooch onto your mouth, and then whispers, “Twenty-nine.”

And another, “Thirty,” and another, “Thirty-one.”

“I can count, y'know,” you say in between.

He pays you no mind, and once he's reached Thirty-seven, he pulls back and raises an eyebrow at you.

“See? What about now?”

You grin widely at him, “I'd say you've fallen for my trick. Sooner rather than later, I'll be free of you.”

“Oh, you'll never, ever, be free of me,” he mumbles, leaning in for another kiss, until a loud knocking sound comes from the door.

Eddie puts a hand over your mouth and works to even out his breathing, hoping whoever's at the door will just give up and leave. Little does he know, it's Athena Grant on the other side and she isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

“I know you kids are in there,” she yells through the door.

A few seconds later, she continues, “You better not have sex in my damn bathroom!”

You both laugh out loud at that.

“We'll be right out, 'Thena! Sorry,” you yell back.

You fix yourselves up in the mirror, and then walk out of the bathroom to join everyone else.

That night, you share kiss number 38 as you slow-dance in the middle of the Grants' living room, surrounded by the people you love the most.

For the first time in, well, ever, Eddie is late for his shift. You're not too concerned about it for the first twenty minutes. But then fifty more minutes pass by and you start to panic a little. You know it's kind of irrational, but your mind conjures up every single bad thing that could've happened to him or, God forbid, Chris.

A number of accidents pops up into your mind, every emergency you've ever responded to, and he's at the center of all of them. You start to feel a little stupid and overly sentimental when he walks in a few moments later, muttering apologies to Bobby and running into the locker room to get changed. You sigh in relief and follow him into the locker room.

“Hey,” you greet him.

He can barely look at you, but he greets you back anyway. You frown and put your fingers onto the side of his face, pulling his gaze to yours.

“What's wrong?” you question.

He mutters something about Chris' school and runs off to take a shower before he clocks into his shift. You're left stunned and very curious to know what's been going on. You look at the ground in defeat. There you find a piece of paper that must've fallen from his shoulder bag.

You pick up the paper, and on it you find a document from Christopher's new school dated for yesterday, the 10th of December, and signed by one Shannon Diaz. Diaz? Diaz, Diaz, Diaz. The name replays in your mind so much you aren't even sure it's real anymore. Why would she keep the name? Maybe you're overthinking this, but your mind is reeling with all of the different possibilities of it all.

You sit on the bench in front of his locker, just staring at the piece of paper. When he returns, he's still pulling shirt on. You look up at him with narrowed eyes. You can't believe you're about to ask this.

“Are you still married?” you question furiously.

Eddie looks stunned, frozen in place. Then, he sees the piece of paper in your hands. He sighs and takes it away from you like he could burn it away and you'd magically forget you ever saw it. He rubs his face and looks away.

“Yes? Kind of,” he answers, and your vision grows redder, “It isn't like that.”

“What's it like, then?” you ask.

He doesn't respond. He can't. He isn't sure how he'd be able to tell you any of it.

“Why? Why didn't you tell me? I thought I knew everything there was to know. You told me as much. I told you everything.”

You blink away the tears, “Why?”

He looks up at the ceiling, “Tell you what? Which part? The fact that I'm still married, because she walked out on us or the fact that I've been thinking about getting back with her?”

“You what?!”

You get up from the bench, “Since when, Eddie?”

“Just before Halloween,” he mutters, and you're pretty sure if it wasn't for the adrenaline carrying you through, you'd already have collapsed on the floor.

You can feel your blood boil, your anger simmering, begging to be let out of every pore in your body. As you pass by Eddie to leave, he instinctively grabs your arm. You pull it back so hard, you're pretty sure your wrist might sprain.

“No! You don't touch me, okay? Don't ever touch me again,” you shout, so loud it rebounds off of the walls, creating an echo.

He pulls his hands to rest behind his head, breathing quick and shallow, “Please, just let me explain-”

“Explain?!” you ask, walking closer and getting up in his face, “No, you don't get to explain anything! You know when you should've explained? At halloween, or on our first date, or one of the eleven times I slept over in your home. Or, better yet, that first night, at the bar. Before any of the rest of it, dammit!”

You can feel your voice break and tears well up in your eyes, but you don't back down. You point an accusatory finger in his face. He isn't even looking at you. He's staring at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Why won't he fight? Why isn't he groveling?

You shake your head and then you're pulled back gently by your shoulders. You can tell it's Hen from the familiar way she comforts you. You have to bite back a sob that bubbles up your throat and threatens to reveal all of the betrayal you're feeling.

“I just thought that…” he begins.

“Do not! Don't think about me, don't talk to me, don't even look in my direction,” you order him, and step away with a finality.

You make quick work of grabbing your bag out of your locker and walking away. Hen follows you and offers to drive you home, which you gladly accept. Your phone flashes with Eddie's name as he calls you a little over ten times before eventually giving up. Hen sits in silence the whole ride home, which is much appreciated. You're not sure you can say another word without completely breaking down.

And once you're home, behind the safety of your own four walls, and surrounded by the insistent memories of him, you do.

Your job's always been difficult. Every second counts as a firefighter. Milliseconds can determine who dies and who lives. It's why you've become so quick on your feet. Being around Eddie right now has ruined your focus and made your job 10 times harder.

No one's going to die, of course, but you're just not all too there most of the time. The team picks up whenever you're slacking off, Hen and Chimney being the most helpful. It's still obvious you aren't doing your best, though.

You're needing to sleep more while on call, your brain takes a little longer to catch up to the emergency situations you face on the daily than before. You hate that he's made you ordinary, at best, at the one thing you've ever felt you're really good at. And that he's completely fine. At least that's what it seems like. He actually might've gotten slightly better at his job, because he's been throwing his all into it lately. He doesn't look any happier, but you're guessing he must be.

It'a all you can think about as you sip on your coffee, at the firehouse's kitchenette island. You have a book laid out in front of you, but the words aren't making any sense. Nothing really is right now, you suppose. People betray each other and boyfriends end up having wives, that's really the only thing you can wrap your mind around right now.

Chimney waves his arms in front of you as you realize you'd been using him as a spot on the wall for your quiet contemplation. Your eyes snap up to finally meet his and then you look back at your book. You can hear him sigh and pull up a high chair to sit beside you. You just hope he isn't here to pity you.

“You need to get over yourself,” he says.

Evidently not.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“You think this whole thing with Eddie's about you,” he whispers, “You're tying it to your self worth and it's slowly killing you.”

You look at him incredulously, your eyes narrowing. You slam your book closed violently and he flinches for a moment.

“What?! Seriously, Chim?” you yell.

“The person I'm dating ends up having a wife, who he's been trying to get back with, and it isn't about me? Who the hell is it about, then?”

Chimney sighs, “Christopher? Eddie? You can't know for sure yet, but I know it isn't about you.”

He sits up straighter and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Look, when Tatiana left and I saw her a few months later, already pregnant, like I was nothing at all, it broke my heart. But then, I realized it wasn't about me. It was about her,” he pauses for a moment, “I know it sounds like I'm breaking up with myself, but hear me out here.”

You nod, and decide to listen in, just to see where he's going with all of this.

“She was always going to leave a guy like me for the guy she settled down with. It doesn't matter if I had jumped up and down, loved her to death, or gotten a rebar stuck in my head, apparently,” he jokes.

You laugh a little, and nod at his statement, trying to grasp what he's trying to say.

“It just probably isn't about you. Hell, maybe it isn't even about Eddie,” he reasons.

“He has a kid, and you know he'll do whatever it takes to keep him happy. I'm sure he's sad it had to come at your expense, but you should try removing yourself from the whole equation. You're worth a lot more than what he did to you. It was just bad timing, kid. I'm sorry.”

You gulp, and take a deep breath, in an attempt not to cry at his words.

“Wow, Chim, you're a very sappy guy,” you tease.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he mutters with a smile, rising from his seat, “Just keep what I said in mind.”

The pity the team feels for you truly rears its head in moments like these. Buck and Chimney insisted up and down that you join them and Maddie at a bar for some drinks. Normally, they'd let it go after the fifth 'no, thank you," but they only became more insistent and annoying. They had to drag you out of your uniform into the dingy bar you were currently entering, not of your own free will.

“The world feels so different now that I'm single again,” Buck comments, as you find a seat at a high-table.

You sit down beside him, strategically leaving an empty seat beside Chimney for Maddie.

“Buck, you've been single for months now,” Chimney notes.

“Yeah. I mean, technically, when your girlfriend disappears for months, the relationship becomes null and void,” you agree.

“Well, it's only circumstantial. I know Abby's been gone for a while, but in my head, we've been together this whole time,” he comments, and you think it's the saddest thing you've ever heard.

You tell him as much. And you're glad he doesn't bring up the whole your-boyfriend-left-you-for-his-wife thing in response. But, you aren't going to be nice to these dickheads who've dragged you out of your comfort zone to come to some disgusting bar and listen to them drag on about their equally sad love lives.

Buck rants about self discovery and staying Buck 2.0, when the waitress comes by. Buck orders two IPAs for himself and Chim, you opt for a margarita, and Chimney adds a glass of chardonnay for Maddie.

“Who's the wine for?” Buck asks.

“Maddie,” Chim clarifies, “She was parking.”

“Uh, you invited my sister?” Buck asks Howie, as he looks in your direction, expecting you to have the same shocked expression on your face.

“You didn't know?” you ask innocently.

“Hi. Sorry I''m late,” Maddie announces, “I don't know why I got on the freeway, I always regret it.”

She puts her bag down and you get up to hug her.

As she leans in for a hug, she whispers into your ear, “I'm so sorry to hear what happened. If you wanna talk, you can always call me. Eddie's a dick.”

You nod in agreement with a smile, and then go back to sit down.

“It's because you are an eternal optimist,” Chimney says to Maddie as she sits down.

“That's true,” she responds.

You listen to them ramble on like a married couple. It makes you think about how you and Eddie were, and that feels like a stab in the heart. So you redirect your focus on calming down Buck from his confused state about the nature of their relationship. If you aren't going to find love yourself, you might as well have a hand in some matchmaking.

You regret thinking that later, though, when Buck ditches you to go talk to Taylor Kelly, and you can hear Maddie and Chimney sing karaoke in the distance. You drink the rest of your margarita and order an Uber for the ride home.

As you stand outside the bar's entrance, your phone in hand with a large map on the screen. When it says '5 minutes away,' you can hear someone walk up behind you. Your instincts tell you to look behind you, and you find a man standing there. He smiles, and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't quite attractive.

He introduces himself as Jason Bailey, and shakes your hand.

“I'm not a stalker or anything like that, I just saw you inside and thought I should tell you I think you're gorgeous,” he says.

You laugh at his compliment, “Yeah, thank you.”

You glance at the floor, and you can feel his eyes follow your own. There's something eerie about him, and you would've walked away by now if he wasn't so charming.

“I was hoping I could grab your number,” he asks.

Any other day, you would've said no, but witnessing everyone fall in love or get lucky but you was a great big cloud to your judgment. Even more than the alcohol you were slightly tipsy on. So, you give him your number. You're sure you won't respond to any of his calls when you're sober, anyway.

The Christmas spirit always dulls your edge. It makes you gentler, more forgiving. It's the one and only reason you decide to stop acting so outwardly bitchy towards Eddie. You figure that since you're going to be working together for the foreseeable future, you should try to be amicable. And, Y'know, forgive and forget.

Christmas is five days away and the LAFD is holding its annual toy drive. The station is decked out with fake presents, a Christmas tree, signs everywhere. Kids are running around, and climbing the firetruck. Buck's also running around for some reason in a Santa hat. He'd put one on your head, too, during your shift. Your shift had ended hours ago, though.

You've decided to stay behind, packing donated toys into boxes to be separated later by yourself and the team. You smile and thank everyone for their graciousness. Eddie comes up to the empty box beside you to begin collecting toys too. He's been obeying your wishes that he not think about, speak to, or even look in your direction. At least when he thinks you don't notice. Like right now, he's definitely staring, but he thinks you can't see him.

When he finally looks away, you turn to look at him. He immediately turns his head to stare into your eyes like he was already just waiting for a sign from you. You smile at him, and he grins back.

“Hi,” you say, but before he can respond someone walks up to his side with a large toy box.

You both turn to look at her. It's a woman, and she's really pretty. She looks completely free. So not tied down by anyone or anything. She exactly the type of person you'd expect live in LA, do yoga every other day, and be childless by 40.

“Shannon,” Eddie says, and you freeze up immediately, like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You look down at your box, the toys suddenly becoming very interesting. You try to think about how you're going to sort them out later. Anything to keep your mind off of the woman currently standing in front of the man you were dating less than ten days ago. The woman he's still married to.

“What are you doing here?” he asks tensely.

You try to even out your breathing. You want so badly to be able to tune them out. Or even just walk away, but you can't move a muscle somehow.

“You won't answer my texts or return my calls,” she explains.

It shouldn't make you feel better, but it kind of does.

“This is not the place,” he chastises her.

You take toys from the people too intimidated to approach him now, and put them in your already full box, but you can't manage a smile for them anymore.

Her tone becomes angry, “Maybe it's the perfect place. We can actually have a conversation that doesn't end up with us in bed.”

He grimaces at her, as everyone turns to look at them. Everyone but you, whose eyes are still glued to the toy boxes. You knew it was real, obviously, but hearing it and seeing her makes you want to throw up. You're sure if you weren't so surprised by it all, you'd already be hyperventilating. Your face grows hot as you consider the implications of what she’d just said.

Wow, they’re already sleeping together?

“Follow me,” he utters through gritted teeth.

They walk away and Chim stops pouring people fruit punch to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You look up at him and shake your head. He immediately removes his hand and goes back to what he was doing.

You hate Eddie Diaz, you decide. You hate him a lot. So much for trying to stay amicable.

Going back to ignoring Eddie comes as naturally as breathing to you. It is human instinct to avoid pain, after all. Or at least that's what you're trying to convince yourself. Hating him might be the farthest thing from breathing you've ever had to do.

It's also just objectively difficult to hate someone you have to watch save people on a daily basis. But you manage pretending just fine. And you find you aren't any closer to understanding why he lied to you, so moving on is out of the window.

For now, though, you can focus on getting your groove back, one emergency at a time. Bus accidents are fairly uncommon, and you like exploring new aspects of the job, so this call was a more than needed respite.

You apply a tourniquet on a woman's upper thigh, disinfect her wound, and put her into an ambulance for safe transfer. You also tend to some minor scratches, wounds and sprains. One specific woman with a minor injury on her arm points out a Marine who was riding the bus, as you treat her. She tells you all about how he'd been riding the bus to get to his daughter's performance on time. As you sneak a look at him, you realize why he's still here.

He has blood on his uniform, and has a clearly broken phone in hand. He stayed to help stabilize a citizen, and now he's going to be late to see his daughter. Well, that's just not right. You frown and when the woman thanks you, you step away and walk towards the Bobby, Buck, and Eddie.

“Hey guys, didn't that Marine over there help you with a victim?” you question.

Buck nods, “Yeah, why?”

“A woman who was on the bus told me he's about to miss seeing his daughter perform at school, because of this whole thing,” you explain.

You turn your gaze to Captain Nash, “I was thinking maybe we could help him out? Y'know, return the favor. What do you think, Cap?”

Eddie looks at you with unbelievable admiration and then turns to Bobby with pleading eyes. Buck follows suit.

“Sure, why not,” he says, and Eddie immediately rushes over to tell the guy.

You jump into the driver's seat of the firetruck, as everyone crams inside. Once you've secured a location, you turn the sirens on and start driving as quickly as possible.

“Better hurry up and get dressed. We're gonna be there before you know it,” Eddie instructs.

You can hear Buck talk about how he's going to be crying and it makes you laugh out loud. In truth, you'll probably be crying too, but no one needs to know that.

Once you reach the theatre, you all run out of the truck, leaving the keys behind with a paramedic who rode with you. Your pace doesn't grow any slower as you make your way inside.

It's completely packed, and a little girl who looks so much like the Marine you drove over is singing into a mic with the voice of an angel. When she spots her father, she gasps, and walks off of the stage with the choir finishing the song for her. They hug, with the spotlight shining down on them, and everyone claps.

You look down to avoid letting anyone catch the tears lining your lashes. Buck does no such thing, though, and wipes his tears off shamelessly. Your head turns to look around at the team with a victorious smile, and you see Eddie's about to cry. You turn away immediately to give him some privacy. And then you can't help but remember the harrowing experiences he'd shared with you that night on your couch.

Like puzzle pieces clicking into place, you finally understand what Chimney meant by what he said before Christmas. 'Maybe it isn't even about Eddie,' he'd said. Maybe it isn't. Maybe it's about making up for lost time. Maybe it's even about forgiving Shannon the same way she forgave him for leaving all those years ago. Did she? She didn't exactly stay, but you have no idea what exactly transpired, so you can't be too harsh in your judgement.

The real Eddie, your Eddie, would do anything for his son. He'd even languish in a loveless marriage just to see him happy and give him a sense of security. He genuinely believes it's the only way he can make up for his errors. You get it. Or you're going to try to.

When Buck and Bobby turn to leave, you instinctively wipe a tear off of Eddie's cheek. He almost sighs at your touch, but decides against it. Then, you grant him a curt yet genuine smile, and turn to walk away.

Eddie was so sure the only thing between you now was bad faith and animosity. Here in the back of a church theatre, though, it feels more like understanding, and maybe even forgiveness.

You're grabbing a bottle of water out of the fire station's fridge when a wolf whistle sounds from behind you. You look back and realize Chimney's whistling at you...? You frown at him deeply, very confused at how he's acting.

“A little birdie told me someone asked for your number at the bar, the night we all went,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

Your eyes dart over to Hen, and you point an accusatory finger at her.

“I told you that in confidence!” you yell.

She shrugs and makes her way to the kitchenette's island to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl. You scowl at her and fold your arms.

“Soo, has this mystery guy called?” Chim asks.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Eddie listening in intently. His shoulders are holding a lot of tension, and his face is set into a frown.

“That's none of your business, Chim,” you inform him, looking away.

“Nope,” Hen responds for you anyway.

The truth is he did. Many times. You just never responded. You aren't ready to be with anyone else. At all. You're glad you hadn't told Hen that part though, because you can actually keep it to yourself.

You're pretty sure you can see Eddie's shoulders relax and his expression turn a bit calmer, but you can't tell if it's delusion, the toll this 24-hour shift is taking on you or reality.

“Oh. Tough luck,” he says, patting your shoulder.

You swat his hand away, “Hey! It isn't like you're killing it with the ladies. You can barely officially ask out the girl you've been dating.”

Hen, Bobby, and Eddie laugh at that, while Buck just grimaces at the mention of his sister dating Chimney.

Someone calls for Chimney from downstairs, announcing that Maddie's here to see him. You smirk at him as he nervously makes his way down.

You all immediately run to the railing of the top floor to watch their interaction. You're standing in between Eddie and Hen when Maddie reveals her divorce papers. Wow. What a way begin a relationship. You're glad they've found each other, lord knows how hard it is to find someone willing to get divorced to be with you.

When they're done talking, you wolf-whistle at them the same way Chim had done for you. You laugh when you notice everyone else is teasing them too.

Then, everyone makes their way downstairs to congratulate them. You and Eddie stay. You stay, because you want to congratulate Chim privately so you can reveal all of the matchmaking you've been doing for him without seeming insane. You're not sure why Eddie stays, though.

His hands still wrapped around the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white, he turns to look at you. It seems he's decided that looking isn't off limits. You sigh and look in his direction, ready to remind him of your blatant opposition to him looking in your direction.

But quickly you realize how close he is. And how much you've missed his eyes, and the admiration that they’re currently filled with. You see in his eyes the potential life you could've had together. Maddie and Chimney are proof that good relationships can start with a divorce. It’s a childish and slightly evil thought, but you can’t help but wish, and hope, and pray he’ll show up with divorce papers at your door one day.

Even though you won't talk to him, your eyes are pleading. For anything. For everything.

When it gets too intense, he looks back downstairs at everyone. You watch him muster up all of his self control and walk away, leaving you there.

A/N: these FREAKS having conversations with their eyes... also did u guys peep the Hamilton reference or not?? pls say yes

[mmkclarkey]

We have a spare room - Part 2

When everything goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

~a week later~

You were staring at the empty room in front of you, well, empty besides the littered boxes around, when a bang came from just outside quickly followed by a soft knock on the door.

You giggled to yourself as you muttered a “come in” completely unaware of what was about to occur.

“Do you think aliens are real?” Arthur asks you, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Leave her alone Arthur! She’s unpacking I’m sure the last thing she wants is to get involved in our debates” Another voice came from the hall, a voice you didn’t recognise straight away as another man walks in to your room, Chris and George following close behind, giggling to each other. The man was around the same height as Arthur with slightly messy hair and a light stubble almost the same as Chris’ but a similar brown to Arthur’s. Something about his demeanour changed, almost like he realised what he had done and quickly broke out in a small smile, reaching his hand out for you to shake it. You accept it, noting how he shook it very excitedly.

“Hi, I’m Arthur” he says in a happy tone, making you smile before having a realisation.

“That’s not confusing at all” you speak before Arthur (your roommate) explains that he’s Arthur Hill, a YouTuber and singer, whereas the other man, sporting a -whales of the ocean t-shirt- was the “autistic best friend who grew up with Chris then stole everyone’s hearts” and that his name was ArthurTv.

This explanation makes you giggle, ArthurTv smacking the other round the back of the head.

“Stop introducing me to people as the autistic Arthur!” He exclaims, voice breaking slightly making everyone else in the room laugh.

The boys quickly filter out of your room, leaving you to unpack your things, cursing that you didn’t ask them to stay and help.

You begin to unpack furniture, using the rest of your free day with no filming to do to build your bed and shelves, trying your best to replicate your old room so that it wouldn’t look too obvious to people that you’ve yet again had to move from a place you moved into not even two months ago.

~

It takes you longer than expected to build the bed. Admittedly it was because you kept taking dance breaks in between while your music is blasting, most of said dance breaks were to Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan, the song being repeated at least 7 times before you were done, making a two hour job into four, taking a break before building your shelves. You lay back on your bed, taking deep breaths due to the exhaustion you felt from building, before suddenly Chris’ voice rang through the doorway, travelling from the living room.

“Are you coming through to eat? We’re gonna order something in?”

You contemplate this before walking out of your room, turning the corner into the living room, immediately confused and shocked as Arthur Hill, Chris, ArthurTv and yet another man you didn’t know were sprawled out on the floor in a pile, the one you don’t know looking up at you from the floor, reaching his hand up as much as he could to shake it.

“I’m Isaac, friends call me Bach though” the man says in a strained tone, most likely from the other three men lay on his back. You notice his full beard and mullet, nearly black as you shake his hand.

You look to the sofa and notice George sat scrolling through his phone, laughing at something funny he’s seen, on the other side, is a girl, around 5’1 sat laughing at the pile of testosterone on the floor. She looks up at you smiling, standing up to give you a warm hug. You immediately noticed that the girl radiated the golden light that came through the window, showing off natural beauty as you smiled back.

“I’m Liv, I’m Isaac’s girlfriend… sadly, I’ve heard so much about you from these three, it’ll feel good to have another girl around finally!” She smiles at you as she holds your shoulders.

You giggle a bit in response, telling her your name “Hi Liv, it’s so lovely to meet you, what is going on down there?” You point down at the pile of men on the floor, a furrowed brow on your face as George pipes in from beside you when you sit down.

“It started as Bach saying that he’s stronger than Chris, then TV stuck up for Bach, then Hill stood up for Chris and then they just kind of… did this.” He says, not looking up from his phone for a second before looking up at you, as was nearly lay down on the sofa at this point.

“What do you want for food?”

“Hmmmm…” You contemplate in your mind what you’d want, deep in thought about it for some reason before you snap out of it, not realising that the group of men on the floor are now off of each other and sat on the floor separately, shouting what they want to eat, not one agreeing.

“Everyone shut the fuck up! She’s deciding.” Liv shouts, all of them immediately going silent, clearly showing that although she was Bach’s girlfriend, was also very clearly the one who kept them all in line.

You send her a smile before laughing, blurting out “let’s get Chinese”, Chris cheering at you agreeing on his choice, you pull a dirty look at him jokingly “it wasn’t for you Chris, i just really want a chow mein”

Your answer makes the room erupt in ooo’s and “you got burned” as George looks at you with a smile.

“Good choice, maybe living with you won’t be too bad, but for the love of everything, stop blasting Chappell Roan”

“Never, live with it or kick me out” you cross your arms as you lean back, he stays silent as he looks at you for a second. “That’s what I thought, you’re gonna love me one day George, trust me I’m a great flat mate”

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

A/n- hey guys, just warning you, it won’t be posts everyday but i wanted to give you guys something else (either that or stop myself from going insane from not being able to post) I hope you enjoy this one, i swear we’ll get an actual plot line soon, I just want to build relationships before I make it too fun

Tag list (let me know if you want to join): @authortelevision @onlinesuzie @pretendyoucantseeme @44-ilton @chilwellsancho

[tracthousing]

Chris DiNardi: ready for anything…

[chrisbesitos]

Chris jsut laying on top of younger reader and starts attacking her with kisses

Cue her giggles filling up the room as Chris smooches her everywhere

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀chris attacking y/n with kisses.

It was a lazy afternoon. Y/N finished all of her stuffs earlier and Chris was on a free day, Nick and Matt were out, they denied going out to stay on the couch watching movies and eating snacks.

Y/N was lazily lay on the couch, Chris was with his head on her chest, his arms embracing her waist and his legs intertwined with Y/N's legs. Her hands were massaging Chris' scalp, curling her fingers in his curly and fluffy hair. They're watching Cars from Disney, Chris' favorite.

Then, Chris forgot the movie and lifted himself to be closest to Y/N, she grinned at him and frowned her eyebrows. The boy started to kiss her face, his red and plump lips letting little kisses on her cheek, her forehead, her jaw and her lips. Y/N started to giggled, his beard was tickling her soft skin.

"Chris, stop!" She said, giggling loudly and contorting her body. Tears were pricking her waterline, but Chris kept tickling her face with kisses and her belly with his fingers.

"I can't, I love you so much." Chris said. The living room was filled with Y/N laughs and her heart filled with love. Chris is the best boyfriend, no one in the world can make her feel happy the way he makes.

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @strnlxlqve @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo

taglist | masterlist

[quinnysnursery]

matt is the kinda cg who... is the gentlest soul. reading bedtime stories in a hushed tone as you fight to stay awake, pressing kisses against your cheek and apologizing for his beard tickling you. taking his little to boston and showing them where he grew up-- rolling his eyes lovingly every time chris and nick. trying his best to not be overprotective, but can you blame him? your just so...small and the world is so big- it's his job to make sure you can enjoy your regression and he'll be damned if he doesn't do a good job.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

My idea is Professor Evans is your secret Boyfriend and he is talking to you after class and your wearing something cute yet sexy around him and he doesn't like how the other guys look at you in it so he punishes you for being his bad little girl.

here is a pic for inspo

Only For Me To See » Chris Evans (AU)

Pairings: College Professor!Chris Evans x College Student!Female Reader

Summary: Chris makes it very clear to you that your outfit is only for him to see by showing you who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is in her early to mid 20s), secret relationship, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, sir kink, praise kink, light spanking, slight orgasm denial, pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @cevansbaby-dove 🩵 thank you for the picture inspo too😉🩷

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Chris didn’t like the idea of you wearing an outfit that’s cute and sexy around other guys. You wore something cute, but sexy to class today. You wore a skirt with a sweater you just bought. You took the sweater off about halfway through class, because you got hot. You had a plain white tank top on underneath it. Jealousy was coursing through his veins. Chris doesn’t like the idea of other guys looking at what’s his. He tried his best to push the jealousy aside so he can teach.

“Y/N, meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” Chris says to you at the end of class.

“Yes, sir.” You replied softly with a smile.

A couple girls who are in one of your classes gave you a wink as you walked in Chris’s office.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Evans?” You asked, closing the door behind you.

“Yes.” Chris stood up from his desk chair. “Lock the door.” He says.

You didn’t question it and locked the door. You walked over to his desk, standing in front of it.

“Is this about my essay?” You asked.

“No. Your essay is excellent.” He answers. “This is about what you’re wearing.” He says, his voice sounding a little low.

You frowned and looked down at your outfit, wondering what’s wrong with it.

“I think it’s cute.” You say.

“It is.” He replies, walking around his desk with his hands in his pockets. “It’s also sexy.” He says.

“What’s wrong with that?” You asked with a pout.

“Nothing at all. Except…” He took a step closer to you. “Guys kept looking at you.” He says.

It didn’t take you long to realize what this is about. Chris is jealous.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” You asked seductively.

Chris chuckled lowly and leaned down to your height, his lips next to your ear and his beard poking your cheek.

“I’m gonna punish you.” He whispers in your ear.

A shiver went through your body. Chris took off his glasses and put them on his desk before kissing you. You moaned against his lips. He moved you towards his desk and pulled his lips away from yours. He spun you around and bent you over his desk so your ass was sticking out towards him and your elbows were on his desk.

He lifted your skirt up so it was bunched up above your hips and pulled down your panties, revealing your wet pussy to him. Your panties were pooled around your ankles. He then landed a harsh smack on your ass cheek. You jolted forward a bit and squeaked at the feeling. Chris leaned over you, his chest against your back and his bulge against your ass.

“Here’s how this is gonna work…” Chris said softly in your ear. “You’re going to take your punishment like a good girl and you’ll address me as sir. Understood?” He says.

“Understood, sir.” You say submissively.

“Good girl.” He praises softly.

His hand rubbed the curve of your ass and gave it another spank. You hissed softly at the sting, but it felt good at the same time. A tingle shot through your body when you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. That excited you even more.

You gasped when he rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk when he slid his cock in your pussy. Chris gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he started thrusting. You bit your bottom lip to keep your moans quiet so no one knew what you two were doing in his office.

“You wore this outfit to make me jealous, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Chris asks.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You answered mischievously.

Chris chuckles lowly. He knows you wore the outfit to make him jealous by having other guys looking at you.

One of his hands grabbed a handful of your ass cheek while the other one found its place on your hip. Chris admired the position you’re currently in. Bent over his desk with your panties around your ankles and him fucking you. That image is forever burnt into his brain and he absolutely loves it. Chris leaned over you, his chest against your back and his lips near your ear.

“You’re supposed to be a good girl and not show off what’s mine.” Chris almost whispers in your ear.

“I’m always a good girl.” You whimpered.

“You weren’t today. You were showing other guys what’s mine. You know I don’t like that.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized in a whine.

“It’s too late for sorry, sweetheart. Now, be a good girl and try to be quiet.” He says lowly.

He kissed just below your ear, making you almost moan out loud. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. You felt like you were gonna go crazy without moaning his name loudly. If you did, people outside of his office would hear what you two are doing and neither of you wanted that.

“I won’t do it again, sir.” You promised, followed by a soft moan.

“Won’t do what again?” Chris asks when he already knows the answer to that question.

“I won’t wear an outfit like this to class again.” You tell him.

“Good.” He hums. “Now…” He reaches a hand around to the front of your body and slides it down to your clit. “Take my cock like a good girl.” He says.

You gasped when you felt his fingers press against your clit before he started rubbing it in a circular motion. Soft breathy moans left your lips. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk, leaving scratches mark lines on it.

Both of you know that you won’t last long when he rubs your clit. Sometimes you can cum just from him rubbing it. This time is one of those times. You could feel your orgasm slowly building up. Your pussy squeezed around his cock when his fingers applied more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.” You managed to say without moaning, referring to the way he was rubbing your clit.

“No.” Is all Chris says.

“But-” You were cut off when his hand smacked your ass, causing you to stop talking.

“I said no.” He repeats.

You huffed and whimpered. You should’ve known better than to huff at him, because the next thing you know, his hand is on your shoulder and he pulls you up so your back was against the front of his body. His fingers stopped rubbing your clit momentarily.

“Do you want to cum or not?” Chris asks in your ear.

“I want to cum.” You say with a small whimper.

“Then stop giving me an attitude or you’re not gonna cum.” He says.

“Yes, sir.” You say submissively.

“Good girl.” He praises.

He bent you back over his desk and started rubbing your clit again. He sped up his thrusts. You bit your bottom lip and moaned when his cock hit your sweet spot. Your orgasm built up even more. You felt like you were going to cum any second due to how good Chris is fucking you and his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Sir, I’m- fuck!” You moaned softly. “Can I cum please?” You begged. “I’m being a good girl.” You say.

“Looks like you are.” He said. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” He says.

Your eyes rolled to the back over your head as you came on his cock. Chris fucked you through your orgasm. He gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own. He wasn’t too far behind you. Both of his hands found their way to your hips, holding them with a tight grip.

“Fuck…” He moans lowly.

He came inside of you, painting your walls with his cum. His thrusts came to a slow stop. Chris leaned over you, putting a hand on his desk just above your head. You two stayed in this position for a moment while you guys caught your breaths.

After a moment, he pulled his cock out of you and put it back in his boxers. He buttoned and zipped his pants, along with buckling his belt. You pulled your panties up and readjusted your skirt.

You turned around to face Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands found their way back to your hips and pulled you against him. He dipped his head down and kissed you. You moaned against his lips, feeling a little bit of roughness in the kiss. He then moved his lips down to your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You moaned softly when you felt his teeth bite your skin hard enough for a hickey.

“Now everyone will know you belong to me.” Chris whispers in your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[whoa-axel-chill]

Chat hear me out; Dead Poets Society Shitty Romcom AU

I'm a genius, okay so either they're all roommates or they're just a really close group of friends and either Todd's the new roommate or there's a coffee shop meet-cute of some kind that introduces him to the group. I haven't thought this all the way through yet, but here are the roles:

Neil: One main love interest. Aspiring actor (like all shitty romcoms, this takes place in NYC), and like a quirky caffeine addict yk? The one who either doesn't realize his feelings or denies them to everyone else constantly.

Todd: The other main love interest (ofc bc duh). Writes for a small newspaper, will eventually confess his love for Neil in an article publicly. Everyone but Neil can see how much he admires Neil and stuff.

Charlie: The "what the fuck are you doing he is clearly head over heels for you go make a move"-womanizerish-acts-silly-but-is-really-insightful-actually best friend. Jazz musician, basically broke because musicians are paid jackshit.

Knox: Oh god. I don't really like Knox, so forgive me. He's like...yk...the one who's girl-crazy but the second a girl leaves him (which happens quite often) he goes through this whole "aghhh women amirite??" phase. He's the one that's completely miserable to be around because he's either like that or writing really bad love songs over girls who could not be less interested.

Meeks and Pitts: The already established couple whose dates have just become trying to push Neil and Todd together. Meeks is an actual rocket scientist and makes enough money that (in the roommate situation) he usually covers Charlie's rent when Charlie can't. Pitts is some sort of bug scientist and specializes in caterpillars. They own a few strange pets, including a bearded dragon named Penny.

Cameron: He's the trope of like..the normal one. He thinks all of this is stupid and is just so, SO tired of everyone's bullshit antics. He probably has some vague 9-5 business job OR works at a coffee shop where the poets hang out just to annoy him.

Keating: He owns a bookstore where they all hang out. They have a version of the club where they meet each week after hours to read poetry and the usual. He gives good advice and makes them hot chocolate. :)

Nolan: uhhhh I didn't really think about this one guys...😬 Maybe the big bad rich business man who's threatening to close Keating's bookstore (he will not succeed).

Chris: The current girl Knox is trying to woo throughout the movie. In this universe, Knox is not a TOTAL creep, so it's okay when they eventually end up together. They get their own little subplot.

Ginny: Neil's friend, maybe cousin. She wouldn't live with them, but she'd practically live there, yk? She doesn't end up with anybody (she could end up with Charlie if you want, i just personally dont ship it) and is just there to watch everything go down.

It would be your typical 90s romcom except gay and stuff. This is so weird but it randomly came to me and I had to get it down. Might post about this l8r idk..

[thetrialsandtribulationsofeb]

there’s just something about tommy and kim appearing in season 7 (the one that moved to abc - who could allow buddie canon - and the one that started with buck and eddie scenes paralleling their 2x01 first meeting) and being tied to buck’s and eddie’s pasts (abby and shannon), but also forcing them to move toward the future

tommy teaches buck about his bisexuality and makes him realize his true feelings for eddie

kim gives eddie some kind of closure with shannon so he can let go of the idea of her and finally move on toward something real. she also makes him lose chris to his parents, so he starts questioning his upbringing, his life choices and his identity

also:

- tommy being similar to eddie, but tommy is gay and eddie is straight (oh wait, tommy pretended he was straight most of his life)

- eddie’s catholic guilt being brought up through marisol being a nun

- eddie mentioning that he married shannon out of obligation, but “there was always a part of him that loved being married to her” (very similar to michael and athena talk about their relationship)

- tommy resembling eddie, and buck pointing it out himself and kim resembling buck, even though eddie is trying to see shannon in her

- buck and eddie wearing matching costumes and singing “what i like about you” by the romantics at the bachelor party

- that storyline with the dad “thinking that being a cheerleader makes his son weak,” and then mentioning that eddie was a ballroom dancer in the past but his parents made him dislike it

- eddie saying “and i lied to everyone else. my son. my… best friend. my girlfriend” - i just find it funny that he mentioned his best friend first, and his girlfriend - his romantic partner who he betrayed and lost - second. i think i’d be worried about the second part more, if i was in his place

- eddie talking about beards and disguises after saying that he’s straight (and father brian not really believing him)

- eddie shaving off the moustache (his disguise) while looking in the mirror (seeing his true self), dancing in the living room (an act of joy - the one his parents ruined for him), and opening the door to buck (his joy?) right after

- tommy breaking up with buck ‘cause “he’s not his last,” and buck going to eddie and sitting with him on his COUCH after the breakup

- showing that eddie has pictures of him together with buck and chris in his house (during the house visits in 8x09 and in his house in el paso)

- buck and eddie being angsty about their departure and realizing that they don’t want to live without each other when eddie decides to move to el paso - while chris isn’t in the picture. ‘cause usually they could make their relationship all about him, but now they were confronted with the reality that their connection is not only about loving chris, it’s about loving each other… eddie needs chris and buck equally, ‘cause they’re both his family, and he wants all of them together (which he proves by constantly facetiming buck)

- buck moving into eddie’s house, literally paralleling his first love (“abby didn’t turn around, eddie did. buck lived at abby’s thinking she’d come back, and she didn’t. he’s living at eddie’s thinking he won’t come back, but he will”)

- tommy saying that eddie is his competition, and buck admitting that he is with all his words (he’s a renter. and he’s straight → i don’t have to want to sleep with everyone i have feelings for → in love with eddie? → hopelessly pining for my straight best friend → i understand him feeling threatened - this is just the classic denial of feelings romance trope)

i just really can’t see all these things as anything other than small steps that carefully lead to buddie canon

and if it doesn’t happen, then i simply give up on media literacy

or on my sanity, ‘cause maybe my delusions did get the best of me

[laplumasucia]

time for buck headcanons (with a dash of buddie) <3

- buck is actually a good cook/baker but he forgets to follow recipes correctly bc his mind is all over the place

- he listens to girl pop almost exclusively (nothing pre 90s is on is radar)

- he takes up the whole bed when he sleeps

- he loves to sleep in comfy pajamas with lots of blankets, a fluffy duvet, even socks because he is cuddly af

- okay so bottom!buck is so personal to me. you don’t get it. like this guy just wants to be loved and he’d finally be taken care of in every way and like. he’s a whiny bitch, lets be so fr. i think he probably switches in the show but in a stable relationship with eddito, this boy gets lavished (i also hate the stereotype that the bigger person is automatically the top)

- he’s actually pretty book smart, but he never applied himself in school and had too much trauma + partied in college

- he went to uni for something like Communications because he thought it would be easy and learned it was NOT

- he is a history buff and absolutely loves documentaries which is part of why he doesn’t know much about pip culture films

- chris and him LOVE downton abbey bc it’s like a historical telenovela but eddie doesn’t get it

- buck does actually know a good amount of spanish but he sucks at speaking it so he pretends he doesn’t know anything

- his favourite cuisines are Thai, Japanese, and Indian and he can handle spice pretty well (embarrassingly, Eddie can’t)

- since maddie raised buck, he has a lot of more traditionally feminine traits, hobbies, interests, skills, and goals.

-some of the traits: loves/good with kids, sensitive/emotionally expressive, gentle even though he’s a big boy, everything-shower enthusiast

- hobbies/interests: drawing/photography, bath/spa nights, reading (especially romance and more melodramatic genres), fashion, decorating things, crafting, animals

- goals: wants a big wedding, pretty home, close relationship with kids, lots of pets, get really good at baking, plant a garden, learn spanish properly

- i think he’s passionate about a less common sport like volleyball. doesn’t gaf about basketball or football, he’s specifically a fan of women’s volleyball because, again, something maddie took interest in

- can’t grow a beard, very jealous of anyone who can

- scared of heights unless its an emergency. like yes he will scale a cell tower. no he could not live on the 50th floor.

- not very good at swimming but won’t admit it so he pretends he’s just looking our for chris in the shallows

- cheese fanatic but lactose intolerant

- wants to go undercover with athena more than anything

- he should have taylor as a bestie. she was so interesting and their non sexual relationship couldve been so good. in my mind they are online friends and she just like moved east or something to heal

- cries easily. those sappy commercials with kittens and puppies? yeah. coming if age shows? yes. its spring and the flowers finally bloom? sunsets? a really good hug? ofc.

- genuinely likes beer. unfortunately.

- i think he has a lot of stick and poke tattoos even if we can’t see them. a lot of them are kinda silly like funny animals, astrology, cute flowers, just anything he likes he’s like yeah ofc i want that.

- he has a thigh piece, like a vine or fern

- sucks at most video games (FPSs, open world, playformers) but he is very good at Mario Kart and absolutely loves Animal Crossing and Pikmin

- i just know he reads Hotshots fanfiction

- i think this man has written Race Banner x Bobby Nash smut and never told anyone bc he’s not the best writer

- he has messy ass handwriting

- i think he has adhd but not like TV adhd where he’s quirky and bouncy, i mean actual real shit like he gets so bored he think he might die and he hyperfocuses on random shit and sometimes he just cannot get himself to do what he needs to. not procrastination, he just can’t switch or start tasks.

- eats a lot. enough for someone way bigger than himself.

- clumsy/can’t run for shit. he’s all over the place, tripping and bumping into furniture

- i don’t think the temu kiss was the moment he realised he was bi, but the moment he realised he had to come out. i think he probably suspected much earlier on and went “that’s tomorrows problem” then he kissed a guy and was like oh dear it’s today’s problem.

- i think the buckley’s are wealthy and set up trusts for the maddie/daniel. buck never got one but every once and a while his parents would gift him substantial amounts of money which is how he got away with moving around and doing odd jobs. once he found out abt daniel, the buckleys gave him whatever was left of the funds so now he doesn’t actually need to work

- stripped or did some type of sex work even just for a month

- physically affectionate. will hug anyone. loves a bobby hug and doesn’t care if it annoys cap

- insists on driving and deejaying

- dolly parton stan but knows like 2 songs

this is getting too long but hope you enjoy bc i’m right all the time.

if you want a spicy version i might be convinced…