#but Bobby would probably watch you

[kiwiplaetzchen]

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well now I do have a follow up idea for that last bthb

[gayangelcrimes]

hey. anyone ever think about 1x06 Skin. what if Dean died, but being in Dean's shape made something snap in the shifter's mind and it decided to take Dean's place for real. and it had absorbed enough of Dean's memories and personality that he was pretty much just Dean except Sam is more wary of him, at least for a while. (and John of course never notices that's not his real son.)

[svtskneecaps]

so for context i sometimes get things people say stuck in my head, like when a song gets stuck but with random things people say (lmk if you can relate everyone i've mentioned this to hits me with "??? huh?")

roier has a voice where i tend to get things he says stuck in my head yknow. which is neat yknow i like his voice i don't mind him going WHAT THE FUCK?? with his whole chest in the back of my mind yknow like prior to qsmp i had seen a random clip of him chasing down rubius on some different server and saying his name a bunch and that got stuck in my head for a month or so and it's fun yknow it's neat

but right now there is a tiny roier in the back of my head saying "ven mijo ven!! ven bobby!!"

so yea i'm crying again lol

[doolallymagpie]

well, I guess 3024 Bobbie is becoming a serious project (hey at this point it’s just a cooling vest and a “proper” neurohelmet, why not?)

it’d be funny to have her on my table as I write

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”

“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

[pinkestofpanthers]

here's more logan thoughts of mine...

having to explain to logan that there's a common belief among people that if you're able to tie a knot into the stem of a maraschino cherry, that you must be a good kisser.

in your defense, it was all pretty innocent. logan found himself stumbling into the kitchen and noticed you standing at the counter with rogue nearby. placed out in front of the both of you were two glasses filled halfway with ice, two cans of ginger ale, a bottle of grenadine, and a small jar of maraschino cherries. before he could even say it, you recognized him lurking and spoke,

"shirley temples. rogue mentioned how she hasn't had one in forever and i decided to play bartender tonight," you grinned and cracked open the can of soda.

"i see. you make it with ginger ale?" he asked, eyes glancing to the can in your hand.

"that's how they were originally made. ginger ale, some grenadine, and a couple of cherries to add more flavor. want one?" though you asked nicely, he declined the offer and made his way to the fridge.

"you know," he said, rummaging through the fridge, "i heard shirley temple herself didn't even like the drink. also heard they never served it to her."

rogue chuckled to herself as she spooned cherries out of the jar. "of course you would know, you were probably there when they first invented it," she laughs. you tried to hold back your laughter as you looked to logan, who just waved the girl off and made some comment about her being too young to know who shirley temple was.

suddenly, rogue's attention was turned to you, as she called your name and asked if she could ask you 'something silly'. of course, you nodded, listening to whatever the girl had to say next.

"do you know how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?" she looked to you as she twirled a stem between her pointer finger and thumb.

your eyes went wide, trying to think of a response. you didn't know exactly why she was asking. was she genuinely curious, or was she going to follow up by asking if you heard of the 'is it true that if you're able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue than it means you're a good kisser?' myth.

you tell her that you can't remember if you ever tried to. after all, you don't necessarily eat the cherries for the stems.

"makes sense. apparently only fifteen percent of people are able to do it," she shot back, now discarding the stem into the garbage.

"where did you even hear that?" you turned to her, as she just shrugged and grabbed a straw for her glass.

"is that the new party trick now? tying cherry stems with our tongues?" logan clears his throat, as he makes his way to sit down across from the two of you.

"you're old enough to know the shirley temple didn't like the drink named after her, but you don't know about tying cherry stems with your tongue?" she deadpanned.

logan, looking confused as ever, is trying to make sense of what she's saying but after a while, rogue realizes the can of worms she's opened has just led to more confusion and regrets even asking about it. she excuses herself from the kitchen, mumbling something about going to find bobby, and left you alone to work on your drink. you couldn't help but notice how logan was staring at your every move.

"i'm still confused," he spoke up after sitting in silence for a few minutes. you knew exactly what he was talking about, it wasn't as if any other conversation had taken place within the time that rogue left the kitchen, so you decided to clue him in.

"just a stupid little rumor someone made up, a common idea that if you know how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue then you must be a really good kisser," you explained, taking a cherry out of the jar and popping it in your mouth. he responds with a 'hm' and watches as you take the stem and put it in your mouth. after a minute of praying that your high school memories would serve you justice, you grabbed the cherry stem from between your teeth, showing logan the knot you made.

his expression remains the same as he looks at you, then the stem being held in the palm of your hand, and to you again. he smirks, and that's when he questions,

"but it's just a myth, right?"

"i mean, i've never put the theory to the test. you wanna see for yourself?" you try him, thinking he would just laugh you off and continue to joke about it. his response this time being clearer than before,

"i was only hoping you would ask, hun."

p.s., i tried posting this on another account and for some reason tumblr did not push it??? wtf, anyways, here you go. thanks for the love on the last little blurb i posted!

[samuelsdean]

Next To You

pairing: sam winchester x reader

summary: waking up next to sam was your favorite thing in the world.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

author's notes: i would very much love to wake up next to sam don't y'all think so? i literally wrote this because i think t'd feel so good to be hugged by him the entire night and wake up to him first thing in the morning.

WAKING UP NEXT TO SAM WAS PROBABLY YOUR FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD. IT WAS YOUR REFUGE, A SANCTUARY FROM THE WORLD'S HARSH EDGES. It was a reminder that each day is another day you get to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life.

You loved waking up next to Sam because his warmth radiated like your favorite hoodie, chasing away the remnants of a cool summer night. Tucked into the space between his jaw and chest, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, his arms encasing you.

Slowly, you untangled yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb his sleep. The light of dawn peeked through the window, painting a golden sheen across Sam's face. His brow furrowed slightly, a crease etched between his eyes, usually reserved for facing down monsters, but right now, it softened with sleep, replaced by the slight ajar of his lips. ��

Watching Sam sleep had you going through your memories in a flash—the way he surprised you with your favorite flowers, after being gone from a hunt, a shy smile gracing his features as he laid a gentle kiss on your reddened cheeks. You smiled wistfully when you recalled how Sam confessed to you his feelings the night he had gotten home from a hunt that went on too long and could've gone sideways.

The motel room door creaked open, revealing a battered Sam Winchester. Dried blood stained the sleeve of his jacket and he was sporting a nasty gash on his right cheek, a grim souvenir from the hunt gone south.

Exhaustion hung heavy around him, a storm cloud threatening to unleash the floodgates of aches and pains. He wanted to go to sleep as soon as he stepped inside the dank motel room, but the tiny flicker of light beneath the door held him captive.

There you were, bathed in the warm glow of a lamp, hands wringing together and brows crimped in worry. Sam seemed to forget all about sleep when he saw you. He has never yearned for anything the way he has right now with the sight of you, his relic of normalcy in his chaotic world. He pushed the door open further, the sound jarring in the silence.

You looked up, surprise giving way to relief. "Sam! Thank goodness you're alright. I was worried sick after you've been gone for so long."

A weak smile formed on his lips. "We got them. Nasty ghouls took longer than expected." He shuffled closer, the weight of the hunt pulling at him. He could feel the warmth radiating from the room, a stark contrast to the bone-chilling night he'd endured.

You stood up and reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch, even through the grime, sent a jolt through him. It was a simple gesture, yet it held the power to ground him, to remind him of what he was fighting for—what he was going home to.

"You look like hell," you said, your voice laced with concern. "Go wash up, then I'll get you something to eat. There's a diner near here, open 24/7 apparently, Bobby told me on the phone earlier, bless his gruff soul."

He allowed himself to be ushered towards the bathroom, crumpling onto the tub with a groan. As the hot water washed away the grime and fatigue, something else started to wash over him. It was the weight of his unspoken feelings, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

He emerged from the bathroom, a fresh towel wrapped around his hair. You were already by the table, a steaming cup of coffee and grub waiting for him. He caught your gaze, the way your eyes held a warmth that chased away the chills of the hunt.

"Listen," Sam began, his voice thick with emotion. You tilted your head in confusion as to what he was trying to say. "This life… it's not easy. It's dangerous, messy, and frankly, it terrifies me sometimes."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "But then I come back here, see you… and suddenly, facing it all over again, well, it doesn't seem so bad. It feels… bearable."

A blush crept up your neck, mirroring the heat rising in his own. You opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

"I know this is crazy," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But, I can't keep it in anymore. I… I care about you. A lot more than a friend."

The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation. He braced himself for a rejection, the fear of a cold fist squeezing his heart. Then, you reached out, your hand gently cupping his cheek.

"Sam," you said, your voice soft, "you're not the only one who feels that way."

Relief flooded him, warm and exhilarating. A hesitant smile spread across his face. "Really?"

You nodded, your eyes sparkling. "For a long time, actually."

He leaned in, the space between them collapsing in a rush. The kiss was soft, a tentative exploration of your unspoken feelings toward each other. But within it, there was a spark, a promise of something deeper. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, a newfound warmth radiating from within.

"So," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips, "does this mean I get to keep bothering you for a while longer?"

You chuckled, a sound that filled the room with a melody of hope. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Winchester. Now, about that coffee…"

He pulled you close, the scent of coffee and the lingering warmth from the confession clinging to the air.  

Yes, in the face of whatever darkness awaited, this peaceful moment with Sam was a treasure. You leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, a silent promise whispered against his lips, "I'll wake you soon, pretty boy."

The sunlight, bolder now, sliced through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Sam's eyelids. He let out a soft groan, sleep fading as he blinked the light away. Unlike you, mornings weren't exactly his best friend. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed again, then snapped open, a glimmer of surprise crossing his face when he realized you weren't there.

"Morning, baby," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against the empty space where you'd been. A frown tugged at his lips for a brief moment before it softened into a smile as he spotted you by the window.

You were turned away from him, busy reading a paperback. The rising sun cast an ethereal glow around you, highlighting the way your hair seemed to catch fire with golden light. A shiver danced down Sam's spine, a mix of the cool morning air and the unexpected sight before him.

"Hey there, Sleepyhead," you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back to face him. "You look like you could use some more shut-eye."

He stretched languidly, the movement sending a groan escaping his lips. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta get the lead out before Bobby gets impatient." He winced slightly, a reminder of the recent hunt probably still clinging to his muscles.

A playful glint lit up your eyes. "Lead out, huh? Sounds fancy. Did you polish your shoes too, Mr. Winchester?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a warmth radiating through you. "Only the finest demon-blood repellent for this hunter, sweetheart." He reached for you, his hand warm and strong as he pulled you close, grinning at how easily he could make you laugh with his comebacks.

As you snuggled into his embrace, a comfortable silence settled between you. However, a shadow lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of Bobby calling usually meant trouble brewing. You decided to break the comfortable silence.

"Any whispers about what Bobby wants this time?" you asked, your voice soft.

Sam shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Not a peep. Knowing Bobby, it'll involve something nasty, a whole lot of rotgut, and probably a cryptic message scribbled on some random book." He paused, his gaze softening on you.

"But whatever it is," he continued, his voice low and reassuring, "we'll face it together. Like always."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek. "Always," you whispered the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air—together, no matter what the coming day brought.

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[rcmclachlan]

Return of the Mack

For @alchemistc. Hope you feel better soon!

At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency. Some have jokingly called the third one the Anti-Bystander Effect, because if someone needs assistance—whether it's to stop an assault, run into a burning building, or help a little old lady find a quarter she dropped—a firefighter will immediately rush in to save the day. It's a special brand of classical conditioning that instills an elevated sense of responsibility in every trainee, and it's paid in full by the state of California.

Which is why it's so odd for there to be three capable firefighters standing around doing nothing while there's an old man clearly in need of dire assistance. If the LAFD higher-ups knew they were actively choosing to watch the carnage unfold instead of lifting a finger to help, they'd all be shitcanned. 

Luckily, there's a fourth firefighter on the scene doing the absolute most. 

"I thought we made a pact to keep him from using his powers for evil," Eddie says, taking a dispassionate sip of his coffee. 

"Is it evil if he's actually using them in service of a greater good?" Hen's attention is half on what's going down and half on the Notes app on her phone, where she's typing out the week's grocery list. "You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Draped over the railing like his bones have melted, Chimney gives a sage nod. "He's like a one-man Suicide Squad." 

In the apparatus bay, they watch as Vincent Gerrard uses the distraction of B Shift heading home to duck behind one of the engines, most likely to regroup after being thoroughly ambushed the second he stepped into the station five minutes ago. He slumps back and breathes. The moment of weakness costs him: a grinning demon rounds the corner and makes a bee-line for him as though he can taste blood in the air.

"So, which one of you said 'spreadsheet' three times in a mirror?" Ravi sidles up next to Chimney and unwraps a breakfast burrito from Delia's. 

Chimney gives him the stink-eye. "I hope you brought enough for the whole class."

"Nope," Ravi says, taking a cheerful bite.

"None of us summoned him," Eddie says. He leans down to try and catch the conversation being had, but he's too high up. For a second, he thinks he hears the words 'crack whore' but it's probably a trick of the bay's acoustics. "He's everywhere, always, just watching and waiting for you to slip up. Like God."

"Or the Devil," Hen says in agreement.

"Or Santa," Chimney adds.

Ravi chews thoughtfully. "I thought we threw out all the clipboards. Who gave him that one?"

"Tommy," Eddie, Hen, and Chimney say through a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh. 

It's not just any clipboard. It's the king of clipboards. It's the only clipboard that has ever fucked. The thing is a navy blue polycarbonate beast with "Buckley 118" embossed in fire engine red on the back, and the clip looks like it was forged in the fires of Staples HQ. 

At the bi-weekly Beer and Bitch Night last Friday at Golden Road Pub, Tommy had pulled it out of a bag and presented it on one knee like he was proposing, or bestowing a sword to a king. The entire brewery was then given front-row seats to an intense game of tonsil hockey that nearly went into overtime until Eddie threatened to call Athena because Bobby looked like he was seriously reconsidering sobriety.

"Does he know what he's unleashed?" Ravi sounds genuinely curious. 

As if on cue, Chimney's, Eddie's, and Hen's phones chime with three incoming messages. 

T.K. 07:26am: Has it started? T.K. 07:26am: Remember: you promised one of you would film it T.K. 07:27am: I'm offering 3 nights of free babysitting to the first person who delivers

That last one is followed by a gif of J. Jonah Jameson shouting "Bring me Spiderman!"

Hen frowns down at her phone. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Chimney mutters.

H.W. 07:28am: Why are you so desperate for video?  E.D. 07:28am: What 40-something year old still pinky swears? H.H. 07:28am: Clipboard Buck better not be a weird sex thing for you, Kinard

Tommy's typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears and disappears again. Then appears—

"Yeah, no." Chimney hastily pockets his phone. "Those two were made in a lab for each other, I swear to god."

Down in the bay, Gerrard has moved to stand almost directly underneath them. While they can't hear what Gerrard says to Melanie Wu, an electrician so talented she could probably take down the entire grid with her eyes closed, that puts such a dour expression on her face, they can hear it when Buck, popping up behind Gerrard like an insane Jack-in-the-box, says, "Don't worry, Melanie! This is something to bring up during Thursday's workplace conflict seminar."

"What seminar?!"

Buck isn't cowed. He taps his clipboard and says, "The one I scheduled with Chief Alonso. You know, the mandatory one we all need to do in order to keep our certification—well, we'll keep it as long as nothing comes up during the seminar that might call into question our ability to do the job."

There's a charged moment where it almost looks like Gerrard might take a swing at Buck, but then he notices the audience hanging above him like a Greek chorus and shouts, "Someone'd better top off the fuel and DEF or—"

"Already done, Cap." Buck makes a show of turning to the second page on his clipboard and lists off, "All fuel, DEF, oil, and coolant are set. Tires have been aired up. Hoses have been drained and cleaned, and re-rolled. Engines were all waxed yesterday, all medical supplies have been inventoried and stocked, and I've made a list of the harnesses and cutting torches that need replacing. Just need you to sign off on everything. Sir."

The ingratiating smile on Buck's face would fool even the wiliest of senior officers, and Gerrard himself looks like even he's not sure if what just happened was disrespectful, but they know better. 

"Diabolical," Ravi whispers, awed. 

Hissing through his teeth, Gerrard spins on his heel and storms away in the direction of the little office in the administrative section of the firehouse where he's taken to holing up like a miserable groundhog until they get a call that forces him back out. If he sees his shadow on the firehouse wall, it's six more hours of bullshit.

As soon as he's gone, all the firefighters that had stopped to watch the show burst into laughter and applause, and Buck cracks up, taking sweeping bows and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

Chimney rolls his eyes and looks to see what Hen's expression is doing, because no one gives good face like she does, but she's holding her phone in a way that clearly means—

"You're filming this?" Chimney demands, betrayed.

She gives an unrepentant shrug. "Three nights of free babysitting? I'm not proud."

"You do know this means Buck's going to get laid and be absolutely insufferable about it, right?"

"Three nights," Hen bites out through very audible regret.

Buck looks up, flashes a grin, and the second he clocks the phone he salutes it with the clipboard. Then he struts after Gerrard, calling almost lazily, "Cap, wait up! I wanted to talk about setting up a mock exam for everyone who's planning on taking the TCFP D/O!"

They all watch him go. Silently, Hen sends off the video with the air of someone about to make a drug drop. 

"So, when does Taylor Kelly's exposé come out again?" Eddie makes a dubious face in the direction of the administrative offices. "Because I don't know that Gerrard won't off himself before it does."

"We win either way," Chimney points out. 

"It comes out next Monday," Hen says, slipping her phone into her pocket and elbowing Chimney in the arm on her way to the stairs. "Karen and I are hosting a watch party that night and you're all invited."

Ravi beams. "Thanks, Hen. I'll definitely be there."

"And you'll be bringing dinner from Taco Azteca—for everybody. Make sure you get enough carne," Chimney calls over his shoulder as he follows Hen. 

"I'm not a probie anymore," Ravi whines. "You can't haze me like this."

Snickering, Eddie pats him on the shoulder and says, "You do this and I'll make sure you're not sitting anywhere near Buck and Tommy when Taylor drops the bomb about Gerrard and Ortiz."

"Extra al pastor and buche it is!"

[wraithlafitte]

bitchin'

pairing: dean winchester x reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), SMUT, only one bed~ enemies to lovers (kinda), unprotected p in v (encase before you embrace), hate sex, Dean calls reader "princess" mockingly, manhandling, slapping, spanking, big dick!Dean has all the audacity, dirty talk, degradation, choking, cum eating, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, squirting

word count: 4.7k

To say you were unhappy to be working with Dean Winchester would be putting it lightly. A massive understatement, in fact. But, as luck would have it, you needed backup on a vamp case; and when you called Bobby Singer for help, it turned out that Dean was the only hunter nearby.

Your jaw set uncomfortably as you dialed his number and held the phone to your ear. Asking for help from anyone was hard, but from this man? Practically your mortal enemy? A feeling of shame, or maybe embarrassment, crept into your stomach as you listened to the phone ring.

He's probably just watching it ring, you thought cynically. Who's to say he would pick up at all? Maybe he won't, you hoped.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Dean was the last person you'd want to work with on a case. He was reckless, had no respect for plans, and tended to go in guns blazing without regard for his own life, which meant that you would constantly be saving his ass. And boy, was he a pain in yours.

The cherry on top of the Dean Winchester disaster cake was that he hated your guts. You never really figured out why, but you assumed it was his misogynistic tendency to be completely contrary to any woman he met who didn't fall all over him. God forbid a woman doesn't care about his rugged good looks or roguish bravery!

When he finally picked up, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, dripping with self-righteousness. "Well, well. What do you want?"

You decided it would be best to cut to the chase and just get it over with. "I'm working a case in Nevada," you said calmly. He would not get you riled up. "Vegas. There's a vamp nest, been snatching homeless people. Tunnel dwellers," you added. "Not that it matters. People are people, vamps are vamps."

"What are you tellin' me for?" Dean asked gruffly. He was gonna make you say it. Of fucking course he was, because he just had to hold it over your head.

"Need backup," you said curtly. "There's at least five of them."

"So what you're sayin' is...." The smugness in his voice was unmistakeable.

"I need your help, you dick."

"Oh do you now."

You huffed, already fed up with him. "Bobby says you're the only hunter he knows nearby. Said you're in Flagstaff."

"Maybe I am," he said vaguely. "Bobby should know not to tell you anything about where I am or recommend me as reinforcements for you."

"He didn't want to, but I made him. Are you coming or not?" you said sharply.

I'll be there by nightfall. Don't wait up," he said teasingly and hung up, leaving you to listen to the tone, steaming.

Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

Rough pounding on the door of your motel room startled you up from your chair at midnight. Dean wasn't even in the room yet, and he was already tormenting you. You went to the door and jerked it open, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel the headache coming on.

"Honey, I'm home," Dean said wickedly. He pushed past you into the room, dropping his duffel bags in the middle of the floor. He dropped into the chair you had just vacated and looked up at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," you warned him, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just excited to kill some vamps," he said, jabbing a finger towards you.

"Give it up. We both know you would rather be anywhere else."

"True," he conceded. "But let me just bask in the moment real quick."

You roll your eyes and return to your task, packing up your stuff. "Don't get too comfortable. We can't stay here. I was followed earlier."

"Perfect," Dean said sarcastically. "Of course you were."

You turn on him. "It can happen to anyone."

"Sure," he mocked. "So what's the plan, genius?"

Your face hardened. "We take the fight to them."

"Say no more."

The vampire's nest was in an abandoned warehouse (real original) that was a few streets away from one of the tunnels that the homeless had set up camp in. Chain link fence, corrugated metal, broken windows, the whole deal. And of course Dean wouldn't wait to make a game plan, sliding open a side door like nothing bad was waiting to jump him. In a vampire nest. At night.

All you could do was follow him, machete at the ready, and hope that the scuffing of his boots on the concrete floor wouldn't alert any vampires to your presence.

Dean ducked down, holding a fist in the air. You hurried behind him and crouched behind a shelf just in time to miss a patrolling vampire rounding the corner. Without missing a beat, Dean jumped out behind it and chopped it at the neck soundlessly. The body fell to the floor. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good.

You crept in the direction the fang had come from, Dean hot on your heels. He was so close you could hear his leather jacket creaking, smell his cologne, feel him practically breathing down your neck. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, then suddenly you hear voices. You stopped abruptly in your tracks, causing Dean to bump into you. You elbowed him and gave him a look.

Peeking around the doorframe, you saw what appeared to be the vamps' main hangout room. And there were a lot more than five of them, lounging around the walls, circling victims that were hung by their wrists from a beam.

"We can take them," Dean whispered in your ear.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" you hissed back. You tried to count the dark shapes in the next room. "There's at least ten in there. There's only two of us."

"We can do it." Without waiting for a reply, Dean busted down the door and started swinging. You had no choice but to follow as the vampires started coming out of their startled stupor and attacking.

Dean cut down two of them easily, their heads rolling on the floor before they knew what hit them. The rest, however, had time to react.

One of the vampires rushed you, just managing to avoid your blade as you swung it. She snarled and leapt towards you. You slashed her across the chest and she howled, clutching her shirt. You took the opportunity and decapitated her.

Someone grabbed you from behind, claw-like nails scratching your neck as it was forced to the side, baring your skin. You stabbed behind you, blade finding purchase, and used the distraction to cut off the fang's head.

Another vamp rushed you from the front. You swung your blade out in defense, but he just grabbed it and ripped it from your hand. Then, as if they could smell your defenselessness, you were suddenly swarmed, vampires clawing at your skin, your clothes, pulling your hair. Several hard punches landed to your gut and your face and the wind was knocked out of you as you fell to the floor, smacking the side of your head into the concrete. You yelped in pain and shock.

A boot pressed into the side of your neck and your vision was suddenly obscured by a heavy-set vampire bearing down on you, grinning. "Not so tough now without your little sword," he sneered, fangs descending. His mouth was smeared with blood and you could smell the tang of iron on his breath. You struggled to breathe as the pressure on your neck increased, your vision getting spotty.

Great, this is how I die....

As if in the distance, you heard Dean shout. The looming face of the vamp was promptly detached from its body, hitting the floor by your head. His body fell on top of yours, his gross bloody neck stump right in your view. The boot left your neck and charged in the direction of Dean's voice.

You struggled to free yourself from beneath the former vamp, ears ringing from your near-suffocation. You could hear the ensuing scuffle, all grunts and wet slices and heavy footfalls, but you had no idea who was winning.

Then, it was silent.

You held your breath instinctively, listening to a lone pair of footsteps approaching you. You found yourself realizing for the first time that you hoped Dean was coming. Better than the alternative.

Sure enough, Dean's hunt-beaten face appeared above you, screwed up with effort as he pushed the large vamp's body off of you. You sat up quickly, surveying the carnage, slapping away the extended helping hand. The shock of your near death experience wore off quickly, but the adrenaline from the fight did not, so your energy turned towards Dean.

"What the fuck, Dean?" you yelled, rising to your feet, wincing from the pain in your sides.

"What do you mean what the fuck?" he returned angrily. "I just saved your goddamn life!"

"After you endangered it!" you shoved him, scowling furiously. "Ten to two are not good odds! We could have fucking died! I almost did!"

"Hazards of the job, sweetheart!"

"There's hazards, and then there's suicide," you replied, fuming.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't have to thank me."

"I won't." You shoved him out of your way and made for the door. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"Not so fast, princess," Dean called after you. "Hunt's not over."

You froze in your tracks. "What."

"I didn't get all of 'em." You whirled around to face Dean, who was looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Your voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean you didn't get all of them?"

He made an attempt at a self-confident grin. "They saw me ganking their buddies like nobody's business, turned tail and ran. I was more concerned about saving your life than to chase."

You smirked tauntingly. "Oh, you cared about my life?"

Dean just shrugged. "Couldn't just leave you there."

"Whatever." You started walking to the entrance again. "Since you let some get away, I say we get a night's sleep. They'll probably be expecting us to come after them, so they won't hunt again tonight. We can pick up the trail in the morning."

"What do you mean you only have one room left?" Dean asked angrily, slamming his hands down on the motel counter.

The clerk looked at him blankly. "Just what I said."

You were at the cheapest motel you could find in the city that was built on tourism. You and Dean were both short on cash, so it seemed like the best option. It was this or take shelter with the junkies in the tunnels.

"I'm not spending the night in the same room as her!"

You hit his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Like you don't feel the same," Dean said exasperatedly, digging out his wallet. "Next cheapest is still too expensive. I'm basically broke," he whined, rifling through his meager collection of bills.

"What happened to all your credit cards, Mr. Fraud?" you sneered.

Dean glared at you. You glared back. After a few moments, the clerk cleared his throat.

"So, do you want the room or not?"

You dropped your bags just inside the door of the room. "You're fucking kidding me."

Dean pushed past you. "What- oh. Oh my goddd." He ran his hand down his face tiredly.

Staring you in the face was the decidedly lumpy surface of a double bed. One. That fucking clerk could've warned you.

You and Dean slowly looked at each other, then you made a mad dash to claim the bed, shoving each other out of the way, kicking, tackling, until you both lay tangled on the floor, still not in the bed. You had his arm pinned behind his back, but he was pinning you to the floor with his weight.

You jerked on his arm, panting, and he grunted painfully, digging his knee into your side.

"Say.. uncle," you gritted out.

"You first!" Dean rasped.

"No!"

You laid there for a few more seconds, then, almost as if it was painful, Dean asked, "Should we- call it a draw?"

You rolled your eyes and released him. He rolled off of you, getting to his feet. He didn't help you up, of course.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," he said spitefully.

"Well, neither am I." Your eyes narrowed.

You laid on the bed stiffly, positioned all the way at the edge of the mattress, as far away from Dean as possible. He was doing the same, and the blanket was pulled taut between you as you wordlessly battled over it.

You were steaming. You should have known that everything would go to shit if you called on him. He completely ruined what should have been a one-hour job, endangering your life and letting a few vamps go. He did, technically, save your life though. You were grateful, but you wouldn't tell him that in a million years.

Adrenaline from the hunt and your constant fighting with Dean coursed through your veins, keeping every sense on high alert. Every tug of the sheets from Dean lit a fire under your skin. His weight behind you on the bed filled you with a painful awareness of how touch-starved you truly were. As much as you tried to suppress it, tension began building in your core.

You shifted uncomfortably, squeezing your thighs together. "Ugh," you let out before you could stop yourself.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled through the darkness.

The sound of his voice, rough with tiredness, intensified how extremely horny you felt. You felt your underwear getting damp in spite of your hate for the man.

"God dammit," you said frustratedly, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

"What?" Dean said, throwing the covers back and sitting up too. "Why can't you just let me fucking sleep?"

"Nothing," you snapped, taking a swig from your water bottle. Hydrating would calm you down, surely.

"Yeah, right," he snapped back. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"I'm really fucking horny, Christ!" you blurt, whirling on him.

"If I fuck you, will you stop bitchin'?" Dean demanded, fire and a deadly seriousness in his eyes.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned.

He just smirked at you. "Is that what it takes to shut you up?"

You stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"You want me so bad, huh." He moved across the bed and settled right behind you, his face in your neck, inches away from your own.

"Shut up," you say, flustered, still trying to keep some semblance of control. But you couldn't deny the arousal pooling in your gut.

"Say the word," Dean said smoothly, breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

"Fuck," you whispered, cursing what you're about to do. You turned your head and smashed your lips to his.

Dean responded immediately, pulling you backwards and into his lap. He bit at your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. You made an indignant sound, battling him for dominance, teeth clashing in a messy display of pure desire.

Your lips only parted to rip off each other's shirts. You dug your fingernails into Dean's bare shoulders as hard as you could, trying to elicit some kind of reaction from him, which came in the form of a deep groan into your mouth. He broke away, panting, and flung you onto your back on the mattress.

Leering down at you, he placed himself between your legs. "That's how you wanna play, huh princess?"

He yanked your leg up by the knee and slapped the back of your thigh. An involuntary moan escaped your mouth, and Dean chuckled darkly. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

"Just shut up and fuck me," you whined, hitting his side with your foot.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Bad girls don't get what they want."

You sat up and came nose to nose with him. "If you think for one second that I am going to sit here and play submissive for you-"

Dean laced his fingers through the back of your hair and sharply tugged your head back. You moaned in response. A smile slowly grew over his face and he let go abruptly and shoved you back down. Your back barely hit the mattress before he was yanking off your sleep shorts and underwear in one go, tossing them to the far reaches of the room. You gasped as the cool air from the room hit your core, driving home the fact that you were now completely exposed to him.

"Aw, already so wet for me," Dean jeered, running a finger up your slit roughly. You flinched away from the sudden contact, heat spreading to your face.

"Don't flatter yourself," you gasped as he shoved a finger inside you, curling it vigorously, relishing the wet sounds your pussy produced.

Dean palmed himself through his pajama pants, groaning. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he added a second finger inside you, scissoring you open. At least he has the decency to prepare me, you thought.

He yanked his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a quick slap, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling.

"Don't whine," Dean said roughly, getting off the bed and kicking off his pants and boxers. You looked down, unable to help yourself.

You saw where he got all his confidence from. He was big. You practically quivered with anticipation. You loved a good stretch, and you liked it rough, and this was about to be both.

"Like what you see?" Dean mocked, shaking his cock.

"Looks like maybe your confidence isn't completely unwarranted," you admitted dryly. You could feel your combative spirit giving way to lust, but you weren't giving up that easily.

He winked, grabbed your ankles and jerked you to the edge of the bed, your thighs around his waist, your hair fanned out on the blanket behind your head. Dean took hold of your calves and pressed your knees up by your face, leaning over you and pinning you down with his weight again. Only this time, it was way hotter.

"Gonna be good for me?" he asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"In your fucking dreams," you spat.

In one fluid motion, he backed off of you, grabbed you by the waist, and spun you onto your stomach. You squeaked as a heavy hand landed on your ass, much harder than he hit before.

You used your feet, barely touching the floor, to push yourself back towards him, hoping he would get the point and just fuck you already without you having to ask him again.

"So fucking needy," he murmured in your ear. "Use your words, princess."

"Fuck you," you moaned, feeling his cock jerk against your leg.

"Mmm, that's not right," Dean warned, fingers digging into your hips.

You grit your teeth. "Fuck me."

Dean splayed his fingers over your ass cheeks, spreading you open for him, and thrust into you roughly, filling you in one go.

You gasped, feeling his cock throb inside you as your pussy complained against the intrusion and desperately tried to adjust to his size. He groaned as you clenched around him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in.

"Dean," you gasped out. "Don't be such a fucking tease."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, princess," Dean growled, his thrusts becoming faster. "You asked for this."

"Technically- you offered," you corrected, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure building inside you with each thrust.

"God, shut- up," Dean griped, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that hit just right, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan from you.

He just grunted, hips colliding against you, now just chasing his own high. You pressed your face into the bed, clutching the blanket with both fists, fortifying yourself against Dean's relentless pace. His fingers pressed deeply into your hips, carving out a place for him, letting you know you wouldn't be coming away from this encounter unbruised.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Dean rasped, slapping your ass. You moaned in response, unable to think of a witty retort. "Bet it's been a long time since you were fucked, huh?"

When you didn't reply, he slapped your ass again, on the other side, sending fireworks through your core.

"Bet that's why you're so desperate for me," he groaned. "Haven't gotten laid in a while. Bet that's why you're such a bitch, too," he added snarkily.

"Oh, fuck off," you mumbled into the mattress.

Dean pulled out, much to your chagrin, turning you onto your back again. "If you want," he said, eyes glimmering with mischief.

You pouted and whined, hooking your feet around his waist and trying to pull him back. You were rewarded with a sharp slap to your pussy. You cried out from the stimulation.

"Don't whine," he growled, pushing into you again on the last word.

"Sorry," you whispered in spite of yourself, gripping onto his arms as he cages you in with his body.

"What was that?" Dean said, grinning wickedly and thrusting into you sharply.

"Fuck-" you moaned instead, refusing to cooperate.

He wraps his hand around your throat loosely, putting slight pressure just under your jaw. Your eyes widened as he slowly increased the pressure, jeering down at you, still slamming into you at an incredible pace. Your body started to become overwhelmed with all the sensory input and your core tightened.

You knew Dean felt it, because he grimaced. "Gonna come, you little slut?" he taunted, reaching down with his free hand to rub harshly at your clit. A low whine released from the back of your throat.

His grip tightened around your neck to see your reaction. You gasped, straining to get a full breath in, your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

"Such a fucking slut that you're gonna come from being choked out," Dean said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Fuck- Dean," you choked out, both hands wrapped around his wrist. He eased up on the pressure some (he didn't want to kill you) and your hands moved desperately up his arm, gripping him tightly.

Dean was getting close, you could tell, but the question remained: would he come before you? And if he did, would he still take care of you? Somehow you doubted it. The self-absorbed jackass was probably going to cum inside you and fall asleep, like almost every other man you'd slept with.

Suddenly Dean lurched forward, shoving his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing heavily in your ear. You clenched in surprise (and also because a man getting desperate was one of the hottest things on the planet).

Dean groaned deeply in response and bit down on your shoulder, hard. You cried out, half from pain and half from the surprising pleasure it sent roaring through you, causing your cunt to squeeze down on him tightly. He practically whimpered, detaching from your skin and pulling out, pumping himself a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a moan.

He looked down at the mess he'd made of you, dragging his fingers through his cum. Then he brought those fingers up to your mouth and pressed them against your lips. "Open."

You scowled at him, once again determined to be contrary.

Dean glared back. "Open, or you don't get to come," he said harshly, forcing his fingers between your lips and teeth.

So he was planning to take care of you. Your neediness returned in full force, and you opened your mouth to allow him to shove his fingers deep into your mouth. You gagged as his fingertips hit the back of your throat, the taste of his cum filling your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and you dutifully sucked on his fingers as he smirked down at the sight.

"Good little slut," Dean said nastily, obviously feeling proud of himself. He started to pull his fingers out and you closed your teeth, scraping his skin as he did. He slapped your cheek lazily once his hand was free. "Swallow it."

You glared, but did as you were told, sticking out your tongue to prove it.

Dean grinned. "Ready for your reward, princess?"

You moaned needily, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up towards him.

"Such a fucking whore," he chastised, bringing his hand to your clit and stroking around it lazily. A pang of arousal shot through you as you quickly approached the edge again. All thoughts of defiance went out the window as you grinded against his hand.

"Please," you whimpered, squirming under his touch.

"Since you asked so nicely," Dean mocked. He stuffed your pussy with three fingers at once, thrusting and curling them inside you. "Fuckin' dripping, princess."

He brought his other hand to your clit, thumbing it in figure eights in time with his fingers. You gasped as your core tightened. His fingers were bringing you so close to the brink and just keeping you there, never increasing the pressure just enough to push you over.

"Fuuuck," you moaned, panting. "Please, Dean! I need- I need-"

"You need what?" he teased. He twisted his fingers up to your g-spot, simultaneously ceasing his movements on your clit to press down on it hard.

"Oh, God!" you cried out, almost hyperventilating. The feeling of your orgasm building up was almost too much to bear. A dry sob wracked your body.

Dean nipped at your chest, gazing up at your contorted face with eyes so innocent looking you could've sworn, for a moment, that this was not a man you hated with your entire being, who was not currently doing the most sinful things to you with his hands.

You whimpered pathetically. "Please," you said in a small voice. "I need to come so bad." Your face flushed with shame as you finally admit what he's done to you, both with your words and body.

"All you had to do was ask," Dean said, sickly sweet. His hands sparked into motion again, redoubling their efforts. You let out a strangled scream as you were brought right back to the precipice, only this time, surely, he's going to let you?

It was like a pot boiling over, overwhelming heat spreading from your core out through your stomach, making your legs shake and your abs tighten. You made another strangled, desperate noise as you grinded down on his hand.

"That's it, princess, fuck yourself on my fingers," Dean goaded.

You struggled to catch your breath, eyes wide. Your face was hot and wet, and you realized numbly that tears were streaming down your face, running into your hair. He started to take his hands away, but your hands chased them, seizing them and bringing them back to your core.

Dean seemed surprised, but more than willing to fuck you past the point of no return. "Fuck, you just can't get enough, huh," he said, sounding mildly impressed. Your body shook as he all but stilled his fingers inside you, just rubbing your clit slowly until it became too much to bear and you pushed him off.

You laid there panting quietly, your body shivering from the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms you'd had in a while. For once, it seemed like Dean didn't know what to say.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then suddenly felt his hand on your clit again, rubbing vigorously. Your eyes flew open and you looked down to see Dean's face set in determination. You clutched at his wrist, trying weakly to get him away, knees trying to close around him, but it didn't take long for you to cum again with a shriek, heels digging into the mattress to push yourself away. Your cunt pulsed around nothing, and you felt a gush of arousal leave you. Dean looked delighted.

"I fucking knew it," he said triumphantly, holding up his hand to survey the mess.

"What?" you asked feebly as another shiver ran through your body.

"Knew you'd be so touch-starved I could get you to squirt," Dean explained smugly. He licked some of your arousal off his hand.

You threw your head back onto the bed exasperatedly. "God, I hate you."

"Could've fooled me," he returned, displaying his hand to you and smirking.

dividers once again by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[bekolxeram]

I'm usually very block happy, but sometimes a couple of hot takes from the opposite side of the fandom manage to slip through. I'm no saint, I admit I do get quite worked up at first, but after some time, I realize they give me new perspectives to scenes I've watched countless times and discover things I didn't pick up before. So this one is for all of you, staunch Tommy haters, thank you for enriching my viewing experience.

In 7x04, when Tommy goes to Buck's loft to talk things out, this line gives some people the ick, because it echoes what Taylor said in 5x05. In that episode, Buck thought his team was off because they blamed him for Chimney leaving. He talked to Taylor about it, she shared her own experience with her boss being sulky around her, and it turned out her boss was just in a lot of physical pain, she ended the conversation with "maybe not everything is about you". While what she said was absolutely right, and she made an effort to make Buck feel appreciated at the end of the episode, but I can also see Buck not feeling supported emotionally at the time the conversation occurred. In a fashion true to her profession, Taylor delivered it in a very blunt, direct and advisory way. Her being right did not cancel out Buck feeling insecure about everyone acting weird around him and him not knowing why.

What Tommy says here though, is in a a completely different context.

Before all of this, Tommy has already reassured Buck that he's not trying to replace him, that his place in Eddie and Christopher's life is irreplaceable.

Look at Buck's smile, he's apparently in a better mood than before. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

So going in this next part, Buck is more receptive to what he frankly needs to hear: Eddie isn't hanging out with Tommy because Buck did something wrong, he just enjoys Tommy's company.

We've witnessed Buck's growth over 7 seasons, now he can recognize that getting jealous easily is one of his character flaws, he tends to overthink and make other's action personal when he's feeling insecure in a relationship. He's telling Tommy this probably to signal that he understands he messed up and he understands what he did wrong. He never expected Tommy to validate his feelings.

But Tommy does empathize with his predicament.

Buck doesn't understand what Tommy, the cool, confident (and hot) pilot would be jealous over. And he almost can't believe Tommy gets what he's been feeling.

Tommy tells Buck that he's envious of the ride-or-die familial bonds within the 118 nowadays, as if he didn't also put his career and life in danger just to save Athena and Bobby (probably Hen's career as well), after one phone call from Chimney.

Now it's Buck's turn to reassure Tommy.

Another hot take I've seen from the other side goes like "if Tommy was nicer to Hen and Chimney back in the days, he wouldn't have to be jealous over what the 118 has now". You know what? Judging by Tommy's face here, he probably would agree. This is not the face of a man who is proud of what he did. This is the face of a man who is burdened by guilt and regret, this is a man haunted by his past, this is a man who doesn't think he deserves the praise.

Buck even cites fake mouth static as an example of Tommy's effort in aiding the 118's clandestine rescue mission, and they naturally fall into a flirty dynamic. I have no explanation for that, except, your honor, this is exhibit A against the "no chemistry" allegation.

Buck then spells it all out for Tommy that he also put everything on the line just for the 118, without hesitation. Tommy looks like he still has a hard time accepting it as an act worthy of redemption for his past behavior.

We've all made mistakes, and we all know we can't go back to the past and change what we did, so the best way forward is to change ourselves and be better. Judging by Tommy's "and [Gerrard] didn't make me a better person" line in 7x10, he quite possibly reflected on this a lot. Yet, sometimes you still can't help but doubt yourself over if you've learned enough from your past, if you're a good enough person now. I can't imagine how good it feels hearing Buck say out loud that he actually likes the person Tommy is now.

Apparently Buck likes Tommy so much that he came up with excuses just to hang out with him and get to know him.

Tommy is pleasantly surprised, because he did tell Buck to call him when he wants to go up. In fact, Buck can call him for whatever reason, Tommy accepted the Harbor tour request, there's nothing indicating that he would feel weird just hanging out with Buck. Tommy just doesn't know how much of a overthinker and bi disaster Buck truly is yet, but that's the story for another time.

Buck and Tommy really don't know much, if anything, about each other at this stage, as you can see in 7x05, but they're already validating each other's feelings. We've seen Buck get his feelings ignored, hurt, dismissed and kind of fetishized for 6 seasons, now this is something he's been looking for the whole time, for someone to understand what he's going through. At the same time, this interaction must also be quite freeing for Tommy, who's been haunted by demons from his own past.

[ultravi0lence14]

Everything Has Changed

sam winchester x fem!reader

5.1k | fluff

summary: the love story between you and sam winchester, starting only at the age of six.

*buckle in everyone, this is the longest fic i’ve ever written

age six:

you didn’t want to be here. you wanted to be back home in massachusetts, sitting on the living room couch and watching morning cartoons with your mother.

but that would never happen again, not after what happened last week. not after that evil man with black eyes broke into your home and killed your mom while you hid in your bedroom closest, hearing everything while silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

now your father had taken you to south dakota, rambling on and on about the nice old man named bobby who would be watching you for a while. you didn’t want to stay with bobby. you wanted your mom, and your dad hauling every one of your belongings and shipping you off to another state was not helping your six year old brain cope with the pain.

looking out the window as your dad drove up a long driveway, the only thing you could see for miles was cars; junk cars to be exact. when the car finally rumbled to a stop, the home in front of it was anything but the one you had grown accustomed to.

your hand was clutched tight in your fathers as he rang the door bell. the disney princess suitcase by your feet was the only thing you could look at as the door swung open and your dad conversed with who you assumed was bobby. the older man seemed nice enough. his accent sounded funny, and the bowl of ice cream that greeted you when you walked in the kitchen had you enjoying this house even more.

when your dad kissed your head and told you he’d be gone for a few days, you didn’t know what to think. you were so young that the notion of your dad going out and hunting the demon that killed your mom was completely out of your headspace. you just thought he had obligations with work and was needed away for a couple of weeks.

those couple of weeks turned into two months. soon those two months turned into six. it dawned on you at such a young age that your father was probably not coming back, that both of your parents left you in the span of a week and you were stuck with a total stranger.

it was an awful thing for a mere kindergartener to comprehend, and it absolutely pained bobby to watch that realization slowly slip into your face day by day as you sat on the porch, awaiting for your dads non existing arrival.

when the seventh month mark had hit, the rumble of a car was heard from the front of the house. an excited smile lit up your face. your dad was finally back. after so long he was here to come get you and take you to wherever he has been for all these months.

the shear disappointment on your face when you realized it wasn’t your dad was palpable. but the confusion that followed it when a strange man and two young boys came into view was even stronger.

the taller of the two children looked to be a couple years older than you; maybe ten or something around there. his face was stoic and the way his steely gaze swept over you— clutched to bobby’s side, was something that made you nervous.

when you looked over to what you’d assumed was his younger brother, you were instantly drawn in to how this boy was a complete 180 from his brother. he seemed more timid, shy in how he walked with his head down and lip drawn between his teeth, gnawing at the skin as he looked up to switch his gaze from bobby, to you.

for as long as he could, sam would go on and on about how he fell in love with you from the very first time he saw you. that breezy day in late ‘89 was the start of his never ending admiration and love for the girl who he’d met on bobby’s porch at the young age of six.

that day was the start of a whole new beginning. who knew what would’ve happened if john winchester didn’t drop off his two sons that day. no one could guess if you and sam would somehow find a way to each other. but the universe sure forced you together at a young age, and you would be forever greatful for that.

age nine:

the wind blew back your hair, rustling the trees in the tree line as you and sam sat on the grass, silently reading.

it had been three years since your dad left you at bobby’s, and after about a year, you’d realized that he wasn’t coming back. it was hard at first, the tears didn’t stop coming for at least a week after the realization set in. but you had bobby, who’d stepped up and been more of a father than your own ever could’ve.

there was also the factor of sam and dean winchester, but they were a little more complicated than your father/daughter relationship with bobby.

dean winchester was like an older brother to you. someone who annoyed you like hell but would always be there to protect you when needed. he cared about the people he loved more than he could breathe, and you were grateful to have someone who would always be there for you.

sam, he was a little different then his brother. while dean was four years older, you two were the same age. you always felt a different bond with sam, something that was less brotherly and more shy smiles and rosy cheeks.

you’d harboured a crush on the youngest winchester boy, you just didn’t know what to do with it.

that crush didn’t blow away with the wind, it stayed while you sat side by side with sam, knees brushing as you both turned the pages of your corresponding books.

you didn’t know what to do. hell you were only a kid, merely in the fourth grade and not even double digits yet. the relationship you shared with sam was too precious to you for it to just be ruined by your stupid blabbing mouth. so you kept quiet, simply enjoying the time you spent with sam as friends and hoping that someday this crush would go away.

“have you ever wondered what it’s like to be an adult?” sam’s question startled you from your reading, the silence between you two going on for so long that his voice was quite jarring.

softly closing your back and moving over to face sam, you looked up at the blowing leaves on the trees, truly pondering your friends question. “i don’t know.” you responded after a long while, looking back down at sam and his expectant eyes. “i’d like to think that being an adult would be better, but then i think of my dad, and your dad even, and i wonder if being a kid forever would be so bad.”

you were young, but you weren’t stupid. you saw how aggressive sam and dean’s father was, you saw all the arguments him and bobby had about adult stuff you couldn’t understand. though, most definitely you understood the cowardly actions of your dad running away, leaving his adult duties of being a dad and dumping his own child with another. you vowed to never be like him, to never leave the people you love behind.

it seemed as though sam was truly thinking about your words, really diving deep into what you meant and if his ideologies aligned with yours.

fiddling with his fingers, sam looked down at his lap, biting his lip as he always did when he was nervous. “well i’m just wondering because dean told me he had his first kiss, and when i asked him when it was my turn, he said when i was older. how old do we have to be to have our first kiss Y/N?”

sam’s question caught you by surprise. you never really thought about the notions of a first kiss. sure you’ve thought of kissing sam before, but that was just the crush talking. it would never happen, and sam just asked from a place of curiosity and wonder, not because he wanted to kiss you.

“maybe junior high? i’m really not sure.” your head had been down while speaking, picking shreds of grass as you responded to sam. though, when you looked up, you were met with the feeling of sam’s lips on yours, and your whole world completely stopped.

it wasn’t a long kiss, just a second long peck. but even then, the feeling of sam gently and nervously pressing his lips to yours had blood rushing to your cheeks and a weird fluttery feeling in your gut.

you hadn’t spoken yet, and the mixed in with the wide eyed expression on your face started to make sam worry. “oh god, i’m so sorry Y/N. i should’ve asked if that was okay first. i’m a gentleman i swear! dad and dean taught me better. please don’t be mad at me, please.” sam’s ramblings had a quick smile spreading on your face.

even after something so innocent as a quick, childlike kiss on the lips, sam still worried for your well being, for how you felt in all of it. his strong need to always make sure you were okay made you feel so comfortable with him. even though you were so young, you remembered feeling happy and content about that moment many years later.

sam winchester innocently stole your first kiss, and you wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

age thirteen:

middle school sucked, and you were fully prepared to beg bobby to let you be homeschooled if it continued to be like this.

the people in your school weren’t nice at all. making jokes about how you lived on the town dump and how your father was a drunk weirdo. though, when stupid clara riggs found out bobby wasn’t even your dad, she made it her mission to go around and tell everyone that your own parents hated you so much, they left you on the doorstep of the first ‘trailer trash’ they could find.

her words made you angry. bobby wasn’t a drunk or trailer trash, he was far from it. and so what if he wasn’t your father? he took that position when your own dad couldn’t, and you would like to see the look on clara’s face when your whole grade found out her dad was cheating on her mom with their babysitter.

though they say the words of a middle schooler still stings, and they had bobby finding you curled up in your bed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you clung onto your little bunny plushie.

he tried to make you feel better, telling you that kids could be mean sometimes and the best thing you could do was ignore them. but you wouldn’t listen, and bobby knew that a visit from sam and dean was long overdue.

you hadn’t seen your two best friends in almost six months. john had them hauled around half of the united states, putting dean on his first solo hunts and allowing sam to finally join when he and dean went out. they’d missed you though. even dean who’d recently turned seventeen was missing some time with his built in little sister.

a couple of hours later, a knock on your door interrupted the silent tears streaming down your face. you were fully prepared to tell bobby to go away, but when the door opened slightly and revealed a lanky sam winchester in it’s frame, you couldn’t resist springing up and running to give him a hug.

the force at which you ran at sam had him stumbling to steady himself, arms going around your waist and socked feet slightly slipping against the hard wood. he didn’t want you to fall, and if you did, he’d rather himself break your fall then risk you having a nasty bruise.

when he finally steadied the both of you, sam reacted in hugging you back. the feeling of your face in the crook of his neck had him feeling at peace. all he could do was grip onto you tighter, hoping that his presence would help with whatever pain you felt.

as he pulled away, sam moved the hair away from your face without a second thought, not thinking anything of it as he wanted to properly see your face. “what’s got you so upset, ladybug?” the nickname came from a hike that you and sam went on when you were eleven. a ladybug landing on your finger and a bright smile adorning your face right after.

sam would say that was the most beautiful you’ve ever looked. but hell, you look beautiful every time he looks at you.

when you were through with explaining what had made you upset, sam could feel himself garnering sympathy and anger towards your situation. he felt bad, knowing you did not deserve any of those words said to you for they were far from the truth. though he was also angry because clara riggs had no right to talk. her family was more dysfunctional than his and that was really saying something.

“hey don’t listen to her.” sam soothed, hands no rubbing up and down your back to calm you down. “she’s always been cruel, her words should mean nothing to you.”

they did mean something to you, but you didn’t want to worry sam with all your constant worrying. so you just smiled, nodding at sam and half heartedly agreeing, you knew that this was something you’d have to get over on your own, that your dad left you with bobby and your mom was dead. but it was starting to get better, and you knew you had to thank bobby, dean, and especially sam for it.

“c’mon,” sam smiled, slinging his arm around your shoulder. “dean’s dying to see you. he’s been dying to take you on a ride in the impala now that he has his license.”

age seventeen:

high school had gone by in a blur, and suddenly, you were in your senior year. life didn’t feel real. it didn’t feel like you were about to graduate and move onto university in a mere couple of months, but you also accepted this change, knowing that it was good for you.

“bobby can you stop worrying, i’ll be fine.” the older man had busied himself with helping you sort out all your back to school essentials, fussing over your backpack and what clothes you were going to wear. it didn’t matter that you didn’t have a mom or dad, for bobby was basically a two in one with how he handled clothing emergencies and the practical stuff.

huffing, bobby straightened out your jacket one more time, stepping back and finally taking a good look. “god Y/N you are so grown up. i can just picture your tiny little legs running around these halls, making a mess of all my books.”

scowling, you playfully threw a throw pillow at him. “it’s not my fault you left your ancient mythology book right on the table. who knew john needed it for some pesky siren.” the look in bobby’s eyes were deadpan, almost like he was daring you to finish your sentence. “i did, you idjit. that’s why i left it there in the first place.”

“well,” you sighed, leaning against the front door. “we live and we learn.” bobby just grumbled as he shoed you out the door, rambling on about how if you didn’t leave now you’d be late to your last, first day of high school.

the day had gone by pretty quickly, uneventful classes that just had teachers rambling on about college and how now that you were in grade 12, you had to smarten up and focus on your grades.

you were focussing all right. focused on helping bobby with a gnarly werewolf who’d hopefully be the first creature that you’d get to shoot.

you’d known about the supernatural since you were ten, an bobby had you training with a gun since you were fourteen. he still didn’t let you frequently go on hunts, only allowing if it was something small and he’d know you’d be safe.

that didn’t matter though, because at least you got a taste of how it felt. it was nice, but you knew that college was definitely something that you’d want to explore, and it was great that bobby was on board with it.

the man didn’t want you getting swept into the hunter life, explaining how getting out as fast as you can would be the best scenario for you. you understood, agreeing with bobby that getting a couple hunts in before you left wasn’t such a bad thing.

unlike you, sam wasn’t as fortunate to have such an understanding parental figure as you did.

he explained to you how is father was hell bent on sam staying with him and dean, not leaving the family business until their mothers killer was avenged.

you knew sam didn’t want that. he expressed to you so many times how he dreamed of going to university, getting out of the hunter life so he could live normally for once. you were supportive of him, silently cursing john for his terrible ways of treating his sons.

so walking into your bedroom to see sam winchester sat on your bed watching buffy the vampire slayer was not something you were surprised by. him running away from his dads antics had been happening more often lately, and you really didn’t blame him. john was getting even more out of hand then he already was, and the mentions of sam leaving for university wasn’t helping.

his head turned as you closed the door behind you, eyes softening to that golden hazel that you could never resist. but sam looked so sad, and you wanted to help him for all those times that he’s been by your side wiping your tears.

“sammy, what’s wrong? was it your dad again?” all he could do was shake his head no, sniffling slightly while his hand moved up to whip his tear stained cheeks.

you softly sat down beside him, hand instantly finding his and squeezing, letting him know you were there. “it’s me Y/N, it’s all me.” his words had you cocking your head in confusion, but as he continued, you felt your heart break even more. “dad wants me to follow him and dean, but i don’t want to! anytime i bring it up he gets so mad, and i can see how upset it makes dean. if i leave, dad said i’d be disappointing the family. i don’t want to disappoint my brother Y/N. ever.”

as he continued to speak, you could feel your heart go from breaking to falling completely out of your chest. the pressure that john winchester was putting on his young son was unacceptable. sam wanting to go to college was normal, and telling him that him leaving would disappoint his family was absolutely vile and disgusting.

“sam,” you whispered, head leaning on his shoulder so he could feel some semblance of comfort. “you have every right to want to pursue a higher education. dean will come around eventually, you know that. me and you both know that your dad is very stuck in his ways, but if you want this to happen then you’ll fucking make it happen. am i clear sam winchester?”

his laugh brought a smile to your face. sam being happy made you happy. and knowing that you made him laugh after he was so torn up and sad inside made you feel a warm and fuzzy feeling.

“trust me, i know how crystal clear you are.” his giggle died down as a contemplative look dawned on his face. “i even have a slight idea of where i want to go.”

humming slightly, you heard sam sigh as he continued. “i think i want to go to stanford, for law.” lifting your head from his shoulder, you cracked a smile as you jokingly punched him on the shoulder. “oh sammy, you pretentious snob. you’ll fit in there perfectly.”

“not as perfect as you at clown college.”

“okay now your pushing your luck, winchester.”

age twenty three:

those crucial moments in yours and sam’s story has always been something that made you smile. even now, when you haven’t seen the younger winchester boy in almost five years.

the last time you saw him, you were helping him move into his stanford dorm. john was absolutely out of the picture, and dean was still wound up over the whole thing. the only person that sam knew would help him and guide him through the day was you.

you’d gave him a massive hug, kissing him on the cheek and reminding him that he would do great things, that you would always support him.

as you left, a single tear had raised to your water line. but you wouldn’t let it fall. sam was finally doing what he always wanted to achieve. leaving the family business and living a normal life. if that meant not seeing him for a while then so be it.

though, these past five years have been torture without him.

you saw dean here and there. though the last time you crossed paths was when him and john were working a case down near your college campus in seattle washington, and even that was around two years ago.

dean was doing fine. he was coping with sam’s departure and seemed to really get a good grip on the whole hunting thing. it was like there was no time between then and the last time you two saw each other. it was like old times, laughter ringing through your small apartment and dean still being a major pain in your ass.

but now you were twenty three, in grad school and still living in washington state. your apartment was small, but manageable, and the job you had working as a barista in a coffee shop down the street from where you lived was going fine.

your life was doable, normal with no monsters lurking around. and you felt very content with that.

well, of course, as stories go, that was until dean came around calling your home phone and asking you for help with a case him and sam were working on.

yes, sam. he’d come back into the hunting scene around a year ago. you weren’t completely out of the loop, you still kept in touch with some hunters here and there. then there was bobby who was always on you, calling your phone every week to have your weekly gossip hour as he liked to call it.

all you knew was the sam was hunting again and john winchester had passed about two months ago. you hadn’t seen the older man in well over six years, and you weren’t completely fond of how he treated his boys, but that didn’t mean you were going to speak ill of the dead.

even if the dead was a borderline abusive dickwad.

now, you found yourself waiting out in front of your apartment building, bags in hand as you anticipated the familiar sound of the roaring chevy impala.

you didn’t know how to feel. you hadn’t seen dean in almost two years. hell, you hadn’t seen sam in five, and you knew all these nervous feelings were because of him.

when you were a kid, you always waited on the day that your crush on sam would go away. you wanted to view him like you viewed dean; like a brother. you knew how complicated things would get if you confessed to sam and he didn’t like you back. but even now, those feelings still rumbled in your gut, and you were hoping and praying seeing same again wouldn’t dredge them back up.

as the car pulled in front of you, and you saw sam’s figure in the front seat, those feelings sprung up your throat like a weekend bender when you were nineteen. he looked even more beautiful. hair grown out longer, face more mature. sam had grown into a fine looking young man, and you were cursing yourself for even thinking such thoughts.

the car ride to indiana wasn’t terrible. you and dean talked for a bit, caught up on all the things that had happened in the past two years. sam on the other hand was more quite. he chimed in once in a while, not shying away from saying hello to you or smiling at you through the rearview mirror, but you knew he was waiting for a time more intimate. a time were he could look you face to face and indulge in a five year long due conversation.

dean finally stopped outside a gas station in the heart of this towns square, letting you and sam know that he was getting more road food and stocking up on gas.

as dean disappeared into the store, you felt a slight tug on your arm. turning around you were instantly ambushed by the feeling of sam’s arms wrapping around you and his body eclipsing yours. he hadn’t hugged you this tight in such a long time, and the feeling had you so overwhelmed with joy that a couple of tears slipped onto your cheeks.

“how’ve you been, ladybug?” the nickname had you gasping out a sob, not that it was a sad one, you were so happy that tears of happiness had fallen and you were full on laugh crying into sam’s chest.

dean usually took an abnormally long time in the gas stations, so you and sam prioritized on that time to catch up on all the things you both missed. he told you about california, you told him about washington. he mentioned all the crazy things he got up to and you told him about all the late night tv show binges you’ve done in the years.

you two had been so caught up in talking, that when the family of three passed behind sam, you didn’t even think much of it. that was until you noticed how familiar the father looked.

oh god, no, it couldn’t be. walking behind sam was your dad, rocking a full blown wife and a daughter, who couldn’t be any older than thirteen.

that’s where he went for all those years? he started a whole new fucking family? you just happened to be so repulsive that your own goddamn father couldn’t stand to be around you? he had to fuck off to indiana and get a whole new family to replace you and your mom.

the world felt like it was spinning. you didn’t even notice sam’s confused glance, or his widened eyes as he finally realized what you had seen. all you remembered was the feeling of his hand on your back, guiding you into the backseat of the impala. he was telling you that everything was okay, but you didn’t know if you believed him or not.

dean coming back and driving to a motel was all a blur. the next thing you remember, sam was helping you walk to a bed, sitting you down and going to grab you a glass of water.

he was worried. you hadn’t moved a muscle since you saw your dad. it was justified though, for you hadn’t seen him in almost seventeen years. he’d walked out on you, and now you had to see him with a whole new family. sam couldn’t even begin to comprehend the pain you were going through.

all sam could do was sit with you. hand rubbing your back as the other mindlessly twirled with a strand of your hair.

dean raved on about how he was going to go find your dad and beat his ass, though sam assumed he was going to give up after maybe ten minutes and end up plastered at a bar.

“oh sweet girl.” you heard sam murmur, moving his arm so he could allow you to rest your head on his shoulder. “why can’t you see how perfect you are? why can’t you see that your dad leaving doesn’t define you.”

quietly sniffling to yourself, you nuzzled your face in sam’s chest even more. “but it does.” you mumbled, playing with a lose thread on sam’s coat. “ever since i was a kid that’s all anyone could talk about. how my dad left me cause he didn’t love me anymore. well guess what? now i know it’s true.”

sam abruptly standing up had you almost falling sideways onto the bed. his hand blocking your head from the fall wasn’t what surprised you, but the anger that was radiating off of him.

“goddammit Y/N. your dad is a jackass, plain and simple. he left and with that left the most amazing and intelligent woman i have ever met. i’ve been so enthralled by you since the day i fucking met you when we were six. i’ve loved you since we shared our first kiss when we were nine, since i wiped your tears at thirteen, and especially when you encouraged me to follow my dreams when we were seventeen.”

“you have been by my side for ever major moment in my life, and i would be a fool to not tell you now how much i am in love with you-“ sam didn’t have time to finish, for you were leaping off the bed and smashing your lips on his. promptly cutting off his sentence.

the two of you hadn’t shared a kiss since you were single digits, but something about sam’s lips and touch felt so familiar. all of the pent up emotions and feelings went into the kiss. years and years of holding back and keeping each other at an arms length was finally being thrown out the window.

both you and sam had been waiting for this moment since you were kids, and you were glad to say that the fluttery feeling you had in your chest whenever he was near wouldn’t be going away soon.

all your days, you’d known sam’s face, and for the rest of your days you still would. sam winchester was your constant, your blinding light of hope in the shit storm that was life.

you possibly couldn’t ask for anything better.

[megalony]

You Look Happy

This is an Eddie Diaz (911) imagine requested by a lovely anon, I hope this is what you wanted and I hope you all like it. Any other requests or feedback would be great.

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Masterlist

Summary: Eddie keeps his private life away from the team, leading them to think he's single. They all get a shock at the annual BBQ when he brings a few special people along.

Enjoy.

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

"So, is everyone bringing someone on Friday?" Hen waved her fork in the air and glanced around the kitchen at her coworkers.

"I'm bringing Maddie along, she's excited to see everyone." Buck found himself a seat at the table and reached across the table for a slice of pizza.

It was the annual station cookout on Friday, they would have a BBQ going and everyone would be bringing a range of food, cakes and drinks along to make the day a big event. It was a chance for family to come and visit the station and see the team in their 'work habitat' as Bobby called it. They all needed any excuse they could get to have a party when their line of work wasn't always pleasant.

And everyone was encouraged to bring someone along, whether it was family or just a friend.

"Hmm, no special lady for you then?"

"There might be," A smirk started to form on Buck's lips and he glanced over at Eddie with a raised brow like it was a competition. "But it's too soon to bring her along to the station and meet everyone." He didn't want to push things too far, not yet when they were only just starting to go out on proper dates. Meeting the team Buck classed as his family would be a step too far too soon.

"What about you Eddie, do you finally have a lady to introduce us to?" Hen poked her tongue between her teeth, showing off a smile as Eddie looked up from his glass, suddenly realising he was being pulled into this conversation.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and a splash of colour coating his skin just from the thought of bringing his special someone along to the cookout.

"The bachelor over here who lives at the station?" Buck turned around in his chair to look behind him at the coworker he classed as one of his best friends but his smirk dropped when he took in Eddie's stoic expression. "What, do you actually have someone in mind to bring?"

Eddie's lips pursed to the side and his jaw tightened just a little but after taking a deep breath, he managed a small smile to try and lighten his own mood. He didn't realise all of the team were in agreement that he was single. Although that was probably his own fault for keeping his life so shut off from the rest of them, but still, Eddie never denied it when they used to say he probably had someone waiting at home for him. It wasn't a secret.

It was a tough transition from the army into the fire department, Eddie was so used to keeping his life private because talking about his family when he was thousands of miles away from them only dampened his mood and brought him down. And he couldn't bring himself to put his wedding ring back on his finger after having it on a chain around his neck for so long.

It was always safer to have his ring tucked away beneath his uniform and in the dead of night when he was out on watch or he couldn't sleep, he would curl it in his fist and indent the shape into the palm of his hand. Eddie couldn't sleep if the ring wasn't around his neck, the small weight on his chest was a comfort he had grown used to.

But Buck had seen him leaving the showers and changing into his uniform hundreds of times, he thought his friend would have noticed the ring around his neck. He thought Buck knew but was just being respectful of his privacy.

"I have some family here in LA that can come along,"

Eddie took a swig of his drink and rested his hand on the counter, smiling around the rim of his glass. The team knew most of his family was back in Texas, his parents, his sisters and their families, a few of his aunts and uncles but he still had two aunts here in LA, plus the family his team didn't know about.

Part of Eddie wasn't sure if he would make it here in LA, if he would like the transition or get used to being here. It was why he kept himself so closed off from the rest of the team, he didn't want to get close if he was going to head back to Texas.

But it had been a year since he started at the station and he knew without a doubt that this was where he wanted to be and all of his family had adjusted to being here. They were here to stay. It was about time he let the team meet his family, after all, the team were like a second family to Eddie. He spent most of his time here with them and they were all important to him. It was time he merged both worlds together.

"That's great, you know you can bring anyone along. Siblings, nieces or nephews or friends, everyone's welcome." Bobby patted Eddie's shoulder as he passed him but his words didn't comfort Eddie as much as they unnerved him. Even Bobby didn't think Eddie had anyone special here, he was under the same impression that Eddie was a single guy who willingly spent all his time here at the station.

He was doing the extra shifts for the money, not the company or the thrill.

"Perfect," He was going to surprise them all.

***

A smile formed on Eddie's lips and he tried to balance his weight on his heels and keep his steps as light as possible so he couldn't be heard traipsing through into the kitchen. He'd already kicked off his boots the moment he walked in the door which gave him the advantage of being quieter.

He passed through the doorway into the kitchen where the radio was playing softly in the background, helping to cover up the sound of him returning home.

His sights set on the one person he was hoping to surprise and while she had her back facing him, Eddie picked up the pace and he seemed to time it perfectly right. Just as (Y/n) turned around, Eddie pounced and wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet in a split second. His smile broadened into a grin when she shrieked and he spun round on his heels as he felt (Y/n)'s arms deadlock around his neck and her face bury into his shoulder.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) swatted her hand down on his back and breathed his name into his neck but she could already feel him laughing against her before he kissed the side of her head.

He was always one for surprising her.

"You'll give me a heart attack one day," (Y/n) mumbled the words into his shoulder but she couldn't hold back a smile. Her arms tightened around his neck when he carefully set her back down on her feet and she could feel his hands roaming around her back and hips before he settled on cupping her stomach instead. "Oh, that's why you scared me is it?"

"What?" Eddie kept his head nuzzled against hers until (Y/n) cupped his face and tilted his head back so he could look down at her and he took the liberty of resting his temple against hers. He had a very innocent expression on his face but the way his eyes gleamed and his pupils started to expand gave away everything. And when his lips curved up and he flashed his teeth, (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh.

"You forget just how well I know you, Mr Diaz. You scared me to wake her up."

(Y/n) let her hands move down from cupping his cheeks to rub up and down his shoulders as he threw his head back to let out a hearty laugh. He had been rumbled.

Every time when Eddie was around and (Y/n) started to feel some movement from the baby, Eddie was there with his hands roaming her stomach only to find that their girl had settled back down. It was like she was teasing him and he didn't like it, he wanted to be there for everything, he didn't want to miss a thing and he loved to feel her kick more than anything.

Eddie just so happened to realise that whenever he snook up on (Y/n) or gave her a little jump scare which he was prone to doing, the baby woke up and she would wriggle and kick up a storm. If Eddie got (Y/n)'s heart racing, he could hold her stomach like he was doing now and he wouldn't miss a thing.

"Ah, you caught me, but I was right. See, she knows it's me." He continued to smooth his hands up and down her stomach while he pressed a kiss to her forehead and rested his lips there for a while.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Not too bad all things considered. Do you have plans for Friday?"

Adrenaline sparked in (Y/n)'s stomach when Eddie's hands moved to caress her hips and he walked her back until her hips bumped against the kitchen counter and he had her caged in. He stepped closer until he was practically stood between her legs, their hips and chests merged together and his forehead tipped down until it was resting on hers. His hands moved from her hips to rest on the counter either side of her, caging her beneath him like his prey and it sent her knees wobbling in the best possible way.

She tightened her hands on his biceps before she moved her palms to smooth her hands and fingertips up and down over his chest. It was something she knew drove him crazy and she could feel each breath becoming deeper and steady beneath her fingers.

"No, I don't think so. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"We're having a family day at the station in the afternoon, there will be a BBQ and Cap said we can bring anyone along. Fancy joining me with Christopher?" Eddie glanced his eyes down to (Y/n)'s lips as he spoke and subconsciously licked his own lips before he looked back up to her eyes.

"It sounds lovely… what's that look for?" (Y/n) rubbed her thumb across his chin and up along his jaw.

She knew that look in his eyes and the way his lips twitched up on one side like a slanted smile. It wasn't a bad or worried look but it was something different to excitement or happiness, he looked apprehensive.

"No one's expecting me to bring anyone,"

(Y/n) wasn't surprised. She knew Eddie like the back of her hand and he was a very closed off, private person. He could joke around at work and have a laugh and get to know people, but letting them into his life was much different and it was harder than it seemed. But Eddie was ready to let everyone in now, he knew they weren't the kind of people who would hurt him or turn on him, they were a new family and he wanted them in every aspect of his life.

Eddie kept his eyes on (Y/n)'s lips for a few seconds until she cupped his face in her hands again and brought him closer so their noses brushed together. But it was her smile that made his heart skip a beat and his eyes creased from the wide smile that spread across his face when she kissed the corner of his mouth.

"We'll just have to show them how loved you are then, won't we?"

He brought his hands up to cup hers before he leaned forward to press a feverish kiss on her lips. His fingertips itched and tapped against her hands and he shifted between her legs with a buzz of energy. He would have kissed her deeper, harsher, quicker. He would have lifted her up off her feet again and spun her round or sat her high on the kitchen counter if a certain voice didn't stop him in his tracks.

"Daddy, you're home!"

***

"Are we here?"

"Yep, this is where daddy works," A small bubble of anxiety dwelled in (Y/n)'s stomach when she approached the fire station looming ahead of them.

The only time (Y/n) had been here was when she had dropped Eddie off and picked him up from shift when his car was in the garage. She had never actually been inside and seen what it looked like on the other side. It loomed large like a beacon in society.

Where was she supposed to go? Did she have to sign in or let someone know she was here? Did they have a checklist or was anyone allowed to turn up unannounced? Eddie did say that anyone was allowed to be here and he had told everyone he was bringing someone but she knew he hadn't specified who was coming. He was going to surprise them and show them that he did have people waiting at home for him when his shift ended and his work like came to a finish.

(Y/n) unhooked her bag from her shoulder and looped it over the handlebar of Christopher's wheelchair that she was gripping so tightly her knuckles were almost popping through her skin.

Her eyes did another sweep over the pair of them, triple-checking that they looked okay to be here. Christopher had chosen himself a dark blue button up shirt and trousers and (Y/n) had gone with a floral yellow dress that looped up around her neck and came down just beneath her knees. It was one of the only dresses (Y/n) had that looked more sophisticated but also stretched enough to cover her six-month bump.

Clothes were starting to get snug at the moment and Eddie was coming home to find (Y/n) had confiscated a lot of his shirts and button ups since they fit her better than her own clothes.

The wide red doors that opened up for the trucks to get out were pinned open to let people flow in and out and (Y/n) could hear the music before they even got inside. And the atmosphere seemed to buzz through the air like speckles of sugar glistening all around the station.

"Are you ready?"

"Yep."

Smiling, (Y/n) reached down and ruffled his curls and looked down to make sure he was holding the two trays tightly. They had spent the morning baking cookies and a lemon cake which was Eddie's weakness and Christopher wouldn't let go of them all the way here.

Pinning a loose curl behind her ear, (Y/n) took a deep breath and pushed the chair forward into the station that was crowded with people moving about from all angles. Some were up high in the loft, leaning over and laughing and joking. Others were near the gym towards the right and people were dotted between the two trucks and the ambulance which had all been cleaned today by the looks of them.

Where was Eddie hiding? He had been here since eight this morning because he was technically on shift but he promised (Y/n) as soon as they arrived, he would be right beside her and he wouldn't leave unless he had to go out on a call.

She was sure the panic was written across her face when an older man approached them with a soft smile, bright eyes and broad shoulders.

"Hi, welcome, come on in. I'm Captain Nash but everyone calls me Bobby," He waved a hand over before both his hands moved to rest on his hips but he had a calming voice that made (Y/n) feel at ease. If everyone seemed as welcoming as him then this wouldn't be as daunting as she first thought.

"Hi, I'm (Y/n) and this is Christopher."

"We made cake!" He held the silver tray out for Bobby to see but it was clear he wasn't about to hand it over. He was proud and showing off what they had done but he was still protecting the treats they had made. He wouldn't put them down until he saw Eddie.

"Wow, thank you! Everyone here as a sweet tooth. Who are you here for and I'll go let them know you're here."

"Eddie, thank you," (Y/n) rung her hands together when Bobby raised a brow but his open mouthed expression quickly turned into a grin and he nodded. He waved them to follow him towards the buffet table where a lot of people were crowded round sharing jokes and playful taunts before he wandered off to find Eddie.

"Hey, look, someone made cookies!"

(Y/n)'s eyes darted over to a tall man who looked to be a little younger than Eddie, he had a broad smile and a playful aura about him that seemed to radiate to Christopher who smiled proudly. He crouched down beside the chair and folded his arms over on the armrest but his eyes were on the cookies Christopher was already trying to get the clingfilm off.

"Thanks, these look great," He kindly took the cookie he was offered and ate it in one, causing the eight-year-old to giggle happily. "I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck."

"Oh, you're Buck, Eddie talks about you a lot." (Y/n) smiled down at him before she leaned around the chair and carefully slipped her hands beneath Christopher's arms to pick him up from the chair. It was always easier to take him out in the wheelchair than make him walk too far on his crutches but (Y/n) knew he would be fine to walk and hobble round the station if he was slow and careful. "Why don't you put them on the table, baby?"

She took the lemon cake from him and put it on the chair so he wouldn't be carrying too much and he could focus on putting the cookies down on the buffet table across from them. When she turned back to Buck, he was stood up again, hands in his pockets and a curious smile on his face.

"He talks about us, does he? Are you his sister?"

Something flashed across (Y/n)'s eyes and she forced herself not to laugh, settling instead on a kind smile. Surely she didn't look related to Eddie? They weren't similar in looks or features or height and (Y/n) certainly didn't look like any of his big sisters.

"Hey Buck, who's this?" Hen appeared at his side, handing him over a drink before she turned towards (Y/n) with one of the brightest smiles she had seen before- other than Eddie and Christopher of course.

"There you are," Eddie's voice was unusually soft and quiet but he knew (Y/n) had heard him when he saw her head turn to the side to try and see where he was. It had been a tempting idea to sneak up behind her and give her a small jump like he had done the other day but he refrained because they were in public and he didn't want to embarrass her.

He walked up behind her and his hands instantly found their home on her waist, cradling her hips comfortingly through her dress that stood out to Eddie from a mile away. He knew as soon as he walked down the stairs that his wife, his girl, was the one in the yellow summer dress that had sequins sewn into the hem and her hair curled into ringlets, pinned to the back of her head.

His chest glued up against (Y/n)'s back and she could feel his deep breaths resonating through her, no doubt full of anticipation about introducing his family to his work family. But (Y/n) could feel how oddly calm Eddie was behind her and she found herself closing her eyes when he kissed the side of her head and leaned down to keep his lips smothered against her cheek for a few seconds.

"Guys, this is my wife, (Y/n). Sweetheart, this is Buck and Hen, and that's Chimney over there."

Something about the way their jaws dropped made Eddie grin against (Y/n)'s cheek and he could feel pins and needles tingling down to his fingertips. They were expecting his aunts to be his company today or some distant relative or just a new friend he made whilst living here. They weren't expecting him to be married or to have a child either.

"It's lovely to meet you," (Y/n) shook Hen's hand when she held it out but her eyes were narrowed in on Eddie and her lips were pressed together like she was waiting for an explanation.

No one would have made fun of him or commented if he told them he was married. He knew all about their love lives, or Buck's lack thereof and he had met Hen's wife Rachel before and her son Denny. But this was the first they were hearing of him having a family.

"Wife? So, so you're married?"

"That's generally what it means, Buck." Eddie pressed another kiss to (Y/n)'s cheek before he hovered his lips over her ear when he noticed the cake sitting on the vacant wheelchair in front of her. "You made my favourite," He whispered the words quietly against the shell of her ear, feeling her shiver against him which only made his grin broaden.

"Oh, so he's your boy?" Buck pointed across to the buffet table where Christopher was already making a dozen friends with anyone who was within his reach. But as soon as his head turned and his eyes landed on Eddie, he was clapping and making his way through the crowd to get back to his parents.

"You have a kid too?" Hen turned round to catch a glimpse of who Buck was pointing to. This day just kept getting better and better.

"Yeah, here's my boy."

"Daddy!"

Eddie unravelled one hand from (Y/n)'s hip and crouched down enough so that when Christopher hurried over to him with open arms, he could scoop him up. He curved his arm around his boy and effortlessly lifted him up in one arm and perched him on his hip while his other arm stayed around (Y/n)'s waist, keeping the two most important people close at hand.

"Shall we go cut this cake? I'm starving," He bounced Christopher on his hip before he kissed (Y/n)'s forehead and reached down to grab the lemon cake that was calling his name. "I won't be a minute," He mumbled quietly against her skin before he headed over towards the buffet where Bobby was starting to plate a few things up.

His arm nudged against Bobby when he went to cut the cake and he smiled up at his captain when he felt his boy nuzzling into the crook of his neck with a big smile.

"Do you know what you're having yet?"

"A little girl," Eddie knew it was a sensitive topic but he couldn't stop himself from grinning like the Cheshire cat even as he bit down on his lower lip to calm down his smile. He had his son in his arm and soon he was going to have a little girl to spoil and show off to the team. He was beyond excited.

"That's why you've been picking up the extra shifts?" Bobby kept his voice quiet so no one else would pick up on their conversation but he spoke with a smile and a calm tone. He wasn't being rude or insinuating, he knew better than most what it was like to keep your family to yourself and have something that the rest of the team didn't know about. But Bobby thought it was good that Eddie was opening up to them all, he had been with them long enough to be one of the team and be part of their family.

"Yeah, I'll need to put in for a few weeks off soon, thought I may as well do extra now while I can." He was going to be asking for time off in a few weeks because in just over two months he wanted to be home with (Y/n) ready for when she went into labour and then afterwards to help her at home with the baby.

Eddie knew it was the best idea to do overtime now while (Y/n) was pregnant so it wouldn't affect them when he had to take leave and be home with her. He wouldn't be able to take a lot of extra shifts after the baby was born, he knew (Y/n) would need him home with her.

"Good for you, you look happy."

"Oh I am Cap," Eddie let his eyes wander back over to (Y/n) who was smiling and laughing along with Buck who was trying to cautiously feel her stomach but it wasn't something he had ever done before. "I am."

[sugdenlovesdingle]

a little Tommy & Chim bffs for @rileychester

----

"Her ladyship requests, no demands, uncle Buck reading her a story before bed instead of her own mother." Maddie said, walking back into the livingroom after having gone to put Jee to bed half an hour ago.

"What can I say, it's not easy being this popular." Buck joked and extracted himself from where he'd been happily tucked under Tommy's arm on Maddie and Chimney's way too comfortable sofa. He quickly kissed Tommy, murmured something about being right back, and followed Maddie up to Jee's room.

Tommy watched him until he was out of the room and then turned back to Chim who was laughing at him.

"Damn Kinard you've got it bad."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tommy said, trying to act somewhat cool and hide his reddening cheeks behind his wine glass.

"Yeah I'm sure you don't." Chim took a sip of his own drink. "I mean I love Maddie more than anything in the world, but I don't kiss her goodbye when she leaves the room."

"Well maybe you should start." Tommy told him. If he was getting called out, he might as well own it. "It's working pretty well for us."

"She'd probably think I was going crazy and call Hen to come check me over. Who would then also ask me if I'd lost my mind." He said and they both laughed. "But it's good to see you so happy, man. Both of you. Even if I never in a million years would have guessed that you two would end up together."

"Me neither really." Tommy admitted. "I actually almost let your call go to voicemail that night. My shift was almost over and there was bad weather coming in... I just wanted to go home and catch up on some sleep."

"And there was me asking you to steal a helicopter because of a hunch. I'm sure Bobby is still very grateful you didn't ignore me." Chim said and raised his glass at him. "To team who cares!"

Tommy clinked his glass against Chim's.

"Bobby isn't the only one who's grateful. If I hadn't answered that call, i would have missed out on the greatest thing that ever happened to me. i wouldn't have met the love of my life. I wouldn't be here now. I might have downloaded that dating app again that I'd deleted off my phone a few days before or taken Lucy up on her offer to set me up with her friend." Tommy shook his head. "I'm just glad I did answer. it definitely changed my life for the better."

"You're getting sappy in your old age, Kinard." Chimney teased. "When is the wedding? Do I have time to buy a hat?" he joked, expecting Tommy to laugh with him. Only when he didn't say anything Chim really looked at him. "What? Tell me you didn't..."

"I asked Evan to marry me last night." Tommy told him after a beat. "He said yes."

Chimney blinked a few times to process the information.

"Of course he said yes! He's just as crazy about you as you are about him." he got up to hug his friend. "Welcome to the family, man. We'll officially be brothers."

Tommy smiled and finished the last of his wine.

"There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about though..."

"Shoot."

"When Evan and I get married... will you be my best man?"

"It would be the greatest honour of my life."

---

Send me a prompt and I'll write you a ficlet!

[buckleybltch]

Facts & Analysis: Hen Begins, Chimney Begins, Bobby Begins.

This analysis will primarily focus on Tommy during these episodes. This will objectively and impartially show facts of what happens during these episodes, and also my personal analysis.

From someone who has watched the show since season 4.

Large recap at the end!

Chimney Begins

Eli is very integrated into this episode. He is friendly with the other guys, but is also a guide for Chimney. He is the reason Chimney becomes a paramedic, but also advises Chimney on how to deal with the other guys.

Tommy: “Hey Eli, you forget to tip the delivery guy?”

Tommy is intentionally a jackass at the beginning of this episode as it’s meant to highlight the current workplace culture of the 118 under Captain Gerrard. Gerrard perpetuates and approves this kind of behaviour, and it’s how you get in his good books. Gerrard has very clearly made the 118 a white boys club.

Chimney: “You just don’t like me very much do you?”

Tommy: “If I thought about you at all, I probably wouldn’t.”

At this moment, Chimney is going through the hazing and comments from the others. No one is standing up for him, but Eli gives him some advice and explains why they’re acting the way they do. With regard to the other firefighters, we don’t see Sal at all, so the focus is on Tommy and Gerrard, and obviously Eli.

Eli: “it’s not personal you know. Look in this job, friends die, and funerals are held. They’re not going to just give you their friendship until you earn their respect. They’re not just protecting you, they’re protecting themselves.”

Here, Eli has witnessed the previous interaction with Chimney and Tommy, and explains it isn’t personal, but the other guys won’t just give Chimney their friendship. There’s nothing overt here that suggests Tommy has no interest in being friends with Chim due to his race, as Eli explains it is a trust issue with Chim being the new guy who has yet to prove himself.

Although Tommy “joking” that Chimney is an untipped delivery guy has some racist undertones, Eli states the hazing and comments comes from a place of no trust as he is the new guy. Tommy also only makes these comments in the presence of Gerrard, likely looking for his approval and appraisal; just trying to fit in. He is conforming socially and professionally, even in the negative ways. This will be explained more in the Hen Begins section, but this is likely because he is scared of losing his job if he openly goes against Gerrard and also, knowing what we know now, trying to remain safely in the closet. This doesn’t excuse his behaviour, and I’m not trying to, but it does begin to explain it. Anyone openly going against Gerrard would face severe consequences. When Tommy is not an instigator, he is a bystander and does let this behaviour continue (for now….).

Here, Tommy and the others are the perfect (and intentional) example of the workplace culture Gerrard has created.

On Chim’s first fire call, he’s sat next to Tommy in the engine who is constantly looking over at him. This is also the call where Kevin dies.

Chimney very suddenly understands Eli’s speech about friends dying and trust.

Chim then runs in after Tommy doesn’t respond to the radio and pulls him out of an exploding building, and waits in the hospital afterwards. Whether Chim knows it or not as he does it, this is him trying to prove himself and prove that he can be trusted by the other guys.

Eli visits Tommy in the hospital, evidenced by the visitor badge he wears and the update he gives Chim on his condition, indicating they are friends or friendly.

“Kevin died, Eli.”

“And Tommy didn’t, because of you.”

After Tommy’s stint in the hospital, he builds a bridge with Chimney and apologises.

It’s worth nothing that although he doesn’t explicitly say the words “I’m sorry”, I’ve always interpreted this scene as an apology, as Tommy and Chimney are seen as friendly afterwards. Chimney has proven that he can be trusted, and Tommy is finally extending his friendship (just as Eli told Chimney he would).

Tommy: “Love Actually, monster trucks, craft beer”

Chim: “So you’re back. How’s that head of yours?”

Tommy: “Still fat, but clearer. You saved my life. Thank you”

Tommy then shakes Chimney’s hand and brings him into a hug.

Chim: “Thanks Tommy”

This conversation references an encounter earlier in the episode where Chim asks to build a bridge with Tommy, and says whatever his thing is, he’ll make it his thing too, just so they can get along.

Tommy and Eli then stand with Chim, and then stand behind Chim, when he talks to the woman that Kevin saved. Eli and Tommy can be seen together watching the conversation Chim has, with Gerrard stood by the side of the fire truck.

Tommy: “paramedic, huh?”

Eli: “a damn good one.”

Notes on the framing of scenes:

- Eli is also sat with Tommy and Gerrard during scenes.

- Tommy and Eli walk alongside each other at Kevin’s funeral

- Tommy is behind Chim as he’s ringing the bell at Kevin’s funeral.

Although small framing, at this point I do think it’s intentional to show that Eli and Tommy will be his friends at the 118- they could have shown any other firefighters behind him and next to him. I believe it also shows that Eli is also a bystander, and he is a good friend of Chimney’s by season 5 (when we see the reunite in Boston), however he is also accepted by Gerrard.

We’ve intentionally been introduced to Tommy in this episode as a friend, as one of the episode afterwards has Chim calling Tommy for a favour. In this episode alone, Tommy has been shown to grow as a character and become friends with Chimney, although he does display negative behaviours.

Hen Begins

Tommy smiles and asks “who’s this” when Gerrard introduces them to Hen, and frowns when Gerrard calls her their “diversity hire”. He is no longer necessarily an instigator, but more of a bystander. Objectively, also not great, but no one publicly stands up for her, although we do see Chim stand up for her and give her advice in private.

Tommy, just like with Chimney, does not welcome Hen with open arms. He is still standoffish with her and makes jackass comments, although it is also worth nothing he does not say anything racist to her. Knowing what we know from Chimney Begins, Tommy (and the others) are likely waiting for Hen to prove herself, as Chim had to do, before they extend their friendship. With Gerrard barking in their ears that she won’t be able to as a woman, Hen had more to prove than Chimney and probably took more for the others to accept her.

Chim doesn’t stop to help her when they’re all piling their tools into a pile for cleaning. He too is conforming professionally, not wanting to risk his job and stepping out of line. At this time, Chimney has been at the 118 for some years and knows how to not piss Gerrard off, evidenced by the advice he gives to Hen.

Tommy does say “New york bitchiness is a compliment?” and Chimney calls him out for it. Whether Tommy thought Chimney was insulting her by saying she had an “east coast vibe to her” is debatable. Referring back to Tommy trying to conform to Gerrard and gain his approval, this comment might have also been in the same vein, although this isn’t explicitly said. Knowing that Tommy is aware in the future of how he acted under Gerrard, it wouldn’t be a stretch to also assume he knows it’s wrong at the time, but is more concerned with self preservation than standing up for Hen. Furthermore, knowing that Gerrard is like Tommy’s father, he is probably conditioned to fall in line, even if he knows it is wrong. Not excusing the behaviour, but it might explain why. Hindsight from season 7 can definitely change the way we now interpret some of the interactions in this episode, but absolutely does not take away from Tommy acting like a jackass.

Gerrard explains that he doesn’t like women in his firehouse because she won’t be able to pull the men out if they’re hurt and it puts them in jeopardy. This is a massive exaggeration on Eli’s speech in Chimney Begins where he says that people die, which is why theyre not friends with Chimney yet. Gerrard is the only one who says this, and none of the others are shown to agree with him. However, it did likely have some impact on their hesitancy to be friends with Hen at this time, although we do see this change.

Chimney says to Hen “oh you think they’re inviting the asian guy round to their houses for beers?” When they’re privately talking. Chim is to Hen what Eli was to Chim, a guide to the 118. This shows Chimney is still facing some negativity from the rest of the team, but he is no longer eating at a separate table and is friendly with them. He also faces the racism they suffer from Gerrard. It can be argued here that he doesn’t mean Tommy as those two are seen to be friendly, although this is ambiguous. It could also be argued that Tommy and Chimney are only friendly in private if Tommy is still trying to remain in Gerrard’s good books, although this is pure speculation. We don’t see any interaction between Tommy and Gerrard, so their relationship is up in the air.

Chim does talk to Hen privately but does notably not defend her in public.

After the car collision, Sal and Tommy build a bridge with Hen, saying if they’d had followed Gerrard they wouldn’t have found the patient in time and that Hen is good. This is the first time we hear them go against Gerrard. Furthermore, it shows the positive impact that Hen has had on the 118 and the boys. She has proven herself, and also proven that they don’t have to fit into Gerrard’s mould.

It’s after that collision that Gerrard is removed from the 118 and Hen discovers that people have been making complaints about Gerrard and compliments of Hen.

It is heavily implied that it is Chim, Tommy, and possibly Sal who are making these complaints and compliments as these are the only characters we are explicitly introduced to from the 118. However, Gerrard is still seen harassing her. The fact that the complaints began after Hen joined the 118 highlight the positive impact she had on the firehouse and the team. She fundamentally helped change the 118 for good and also aided in Tommy’s character development. Again, retrospectively, her speech probably had a large impact on him as a closeted gay man.

This happens an indeterminate time after she joins the 118, but it would be safe to assume it has been weeks if not months. Knowing this, it means that Tommy (and Sal) have been okay with her and have liked her for some time, evidenced by the fact they have been submitting complaints about Gerrard’s treatment of her for some time. Although we don’t see them being friends in the open, they are shown to have disagreed with Gerrard’s methods for some time and are on Hen’s side. Even though Hen didn’t know it at the time, they were standing up for her in private and trying to make the 118 a better place by ousting Gerrard, likely inspired by Hen.

It is further implied that, likely due to Gerrard’s constant threats of termination if someone disobeys his orders, Tommy, Sal, and even Chim are falling inline with Gerrard’s regime- they won’t go against him in fear of losing their jobs. This is classic self preservation, with Sal and Tommy falling in line socially as well as professionally. Admittedly, Tommy and Sal fall in line more than Chimney, but after Gerrard leaves, they’re seen being friends, with Tommy seen being close friends with Hen and Chim.

However, while they are seen falling in line professionally and socially at the fire house, in private they are friendly with Chimney and have been submitting complaints about Gerrard and compliments about Hen, indicating they are aware of the bad workplace culture and no longer want to be a part of it. This is a big step in Tommy’s change, and he is no longer a bystander, but actively working on making himself better and standing up for Hen. It took a while, and he could have done it sooner, but that does not distract from the fact he still did it.

Although he physically does not say the words “sorry” to Hen and Chim, in both begins episodes, he is seen building a bridge and apologising to them, and giving them a handshake/hug.

“You saved my life, thank you”

“You’re good”

This is further amplified in Bobby Begins.

As this has been a big topic with the return of Gerrard in season 8, I would like to state that both Eli and Chim advised, essentially, to not cause trouble, keep working, and keep their spirits up, and that is how you survive the 118. None of them, except Hen, explicitly stood up to Gerrard until the end.

Bobby Begins

Hen and Chim are obviously friendly with everyone as Hen is walking around placing bets with everyone. She banters with Tommy, who obviously feels comfortable asking for credit on a bet, and the four of them (Sal, Tommy, Hen, and Chim) end up in a conversation together. In this conversation, they’re all bantering and laughing together.

This is a MASSIVE shift from the beginning of Hen and Chim Begins- it explicitly shows Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Chim being friends now that Gerrard has gone, which further indicates that Gerrard was the source of the problem, not Tommy or Sal. Objectively, their actions and comments did not help and some were in poor taste.

However, there is 10 years between Chimney begins and Bobby begins, meaning Chimney and Tommy have been working together for 10 years, the majority of that without Gerrard. They have had plenty of time to work through any issues. Furthermore, Tommy (and Sal) were shown to acknowledge that Gerrard’s (and by proxy, their own) behaviour was wrong, and took steps to change that workplace culture.

In the fire truck in the montage of calls, Tommy and Chim are seen laughing together at Bobby’s lack of direction.

Sal is also prepped in this episode to show that he isn’t aligning with Bobby’s methods, primarily because he wants to be captain, whereas Tommy is just waiting to see that he can trust him. This is consistent for Tommy with the past two begins episodes; Eli says they wont be friends with Chimney until he’s earned their respect as friends die in this line of work and they need to trust each other. This, if you remember, is ultimately what led Tommy to be friends with Chimney, after Chim saved his life.

Sal is openly defiant against Bobby, stating he’s a “piece of work”. Tommy chastises Sal and Chimney is visibly displeased at Sal. Tommy, Hen, and Chim are all visibly unhappy with Sal and try to stop him when he goes for Bobby.

Tommy not yet trusting Bobby is primarily seen after Bobby transfers Sal. Believing that he fired Sal, Tommy is hesitant to like Bobby as he believes firing Sal was too harsh, with the same sentiment echoed by Chimney and Hen, until the truth is revealed.

Hen then invites Bobby out, saying “some of us are going out for drinks… join us”. We then see Chim, Tommy, and Hen out drinking together. This is when Hen reveals that Sal was transferred and Tommy is happy to accept Bobby. The four of them then sit drinking, talking, and laughing. They even show each other all their scars while laughing and getting drunk.

This scene in particular establishes them as friends who now do hang out outside of work, in contrast to Hen begins where Chimney says “you think they’re inviting the Asian guy to their houses to drink beer?”. The three of them are sticking together as friends. All of Tommy’s character development has led up to this point: he is no longer an instigator, no longer a bystander, but a friend. He stood up for them and stood by them, following them into changing the 118 and the horrid culture Gerrard had created. They trust each other and are friends here.

Tommy, Chim, Hen, and Bobby then sit at the top of the dinner table together at the station, once again smiling and talking.

Their friendship is once again showcased when Tommy transfers to the 217, and Hen and Chim surprise him with balloons and a cake.

Recap

Tommy in particular is a symbol of the impact Hen, Chimney, and Bobby had on the 118. He is the personification of the changes the 118 went through. From an oppressive boys club, to a friendly and trusting house. Tommy himself goes through massive change at the 118 thanks to Chim, Hen, and Bobby. Tommy is not the point of the Begins episodes, but he is a symbol of the change the 118 went through and I have always believed that is fully intentional- they show the change through this person.

As stated, we see them become a group of friends after Gerrard leaves. Tommy also becomes aware about how Gerrard influenced him. We see this in his conversation with Buck, where he states that Gerrard was like the father he already had and Gerrard did not make him a better person. He is obviously aware of the type of person he used to be and doesn’t attempt to hide it, evidenced by his conversation with Buck. It also cannot be assumed that any of the other characters dislike him or hold a grudge either due to his friendship with them in season 7.

Chimney even mentions Tommy in 3x16: Buck is troubled by the fact that Red has no friends and lost touch with the other firefighters from the 134. Eddie asks Hen and Chim if they’re still in contact with the other guys they used to work with.

Hen: “um, I don’t know if we’d call some of them friends”

Chim: “Yeah, I spoke with Tommy last year… I was calling to ask for a favour, but…”

Chim is referencing when he calls Tommy in season 2 (shortly after he is stabbed) to inform him of the Doheney Park (?) fire and asks if the still works at the 217… Tommy then flies over and dumps water on the fire, saving Eddie’s life.

Hen acknowledges here that they weren’t friends with all the guys who used to work at the 118, hinting at the poor treatment Hen and Chim faced, but Chim makes is clear with his statement that Tommy does not fall under this category. They might not be friends anymore, but they’re on good terms, good enough for Chim to still have his phone number in 2023, and good enough for Tommy to trust Chimney’s instincts twice and use ‘borrowed’ municipal equipment.

In season 8, we also see the 118 conforming (or in Buck’s case, struggling to conform) to Gerrard’s captaincy. They aren’t falling in line like they did in 2005, but they know not to cause any trouble and just say “yes sir”. They are also not publicly standing up for Buck when Gerrard berates him. To me, this is the biggest sign that they all know the best way to survive Gerrard is to say yes, keep your head down, and not cause trouble. This is likely what Tommy and Sal also had to do in 2005. Although they did take it a step further and make jackass comments, they were falling in line to protect themselves, just like Hen, Chim, and Eddie are doing in season 8, which they state in 8x01. They know now, just like they knew ~20 years ago, that standing up against Gerrard would have severe consequences.

No one is asking you to like how Tommy acts at the beginning of Hen and Chim begins: he is purposefully written as a jackass at the beginning to display the workplace environment Gerrard has created. However, it is objectively ignorant to continue on as if he has had no character development. It is intentionally written and shown that he fundamentally changed as a person thanks to Chimney and Hen, and Gerrard’s departure. By Bobby Begins, Tommy is ingrained with Hen and Chim and they are close friends. It is shown in both Chimney Begins and Hen Begins that he made up with them and became friends with them both. Those are scenes that are in the episode.

You don’t have to forgive him, but you have to acknowledge that the characters have. If we fast forward to season 7 and Tommy’s return, you’ll see:

Bobby saying that Tommy is good people and good for Buck.

Chimney saying that Tommy is so cool.

Hen smiling when Buck and Tommy arrived at Chimney’s hospital wedding.

Those are not the reactions of people disliking Tommy or holding a grudge.

I don’t like how he is written at the beginning of the begins episodes either, but I understand it is intentionally written that way, and that it is also intentionally written to show he has been forgiven and is now friends with everyone. That was half the point of the begins episodes- to show the positive impact that Hen, Chim, and Bobby had on the 118 and the other firefighters working there.