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sterekorgtfo · 11 months ago

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Buck’s eyes jolted open and his heart began to race as something alerted his body and jolted him out from his slumber.

He was momentarily disoriented given that this was the first time he was sleeping in Tommy’s bed and he didn’t recognize the feel of the pillows, comforter, or the sight of the dresser across from him.

After a moment of grasping where he was and what was going on, he recognized the distinct sound of Tommy laughing his ass off behind him in the middle of the night.

“Do you mind telling me what you find so funny at 2 in the morning?” Buck groggily asked as he rotated over to face his hysterical boyfriend.

“Wh…what I’m laughing at?” Tommy asked through the laughter. “Are you saying you don’t know?”

“Given that I was deep in a very heavy REM Cycle, no. Absolutely not,” Buck replied in an annoyed tone. “Our first sleepover is not seeming very romantic right now.”

Tommy let out a few more chuckles and then began to calm his breaths. “Really? I was just thinking the opposite,” Tommy teased playfully. “Your snoring is adorable. Louder than my chopper and my bike combined, but adorable.”

Buck groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “I thought Chris and all of my girlfriends were being over-dramatic.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy interrupted through a giggle. “Christopher and multiple exes of yours experienced this, and you still had doubt?”

“Chris commented on it when I was babysitting him, and kids are dramatic; and my girlfriends…have also had a history of being dramatic,” Buck explained.

“Uh-oh. I’m dating a ‘all my exes were crazy guy’? That’s a red flag,” Tommy teased.

“No, they’re not,” Buck defended remorsefully. “I just hoped it wouldn’t happen here.”

Tommy chuckled at his boyfriend and Buck felt a mildly judgemental gaze his way. “You thought it’d just be gone by tonight?”

“Kinda?” Buck said sheepishly.

There was a lull in the convo, a moment of silence before Tommy wrapped his arms above and below Buck. “Come here.”

Buck let out a minor yelp as he felt himself be pulled closer to his boyfriend. He felt the warmth of Tommy’s bare muscular chest and arms envelop him. “I think your snoring is adorable, Evan, and I will happily suffer through so many sleepless nights as long as it means you get to fall asleep in my arms and I get to wake up next to you in the morning.”

“You say that now-”

“I do say that now. And I’ll say it again each night until my body won’t let me fall asleep without the sound of you,” Tommy insisted with a confident assurance.

Bucks heart raced and his body instinctively shuddered, and his instinct to roll away was coursing through his whole body.

“Evan? Evan, what’s wrong?” Tommy asked with concern.

“It’s nothing,” Buck lied as he rolled away from Tommy.

“It’s not nothing,” Tommy countered as he allowed his boyfriend some space. “Did I say something wrong, Evan? I’d really like to know if I did.”

Buck winced his eyes and took a deep breath. He was thankful that they were laying in the dark and - *click* oh great, there was the nightstand light on Tommy’s side.

“Evan, will you please look at me?” Tommy tenderly inquired.

Buck really didn’t want to. He wanted to hide himself under the comforters in embarrassment. He didn’t want to be vulnerable right now, but pushing Tommy away wasn’t going to help the situation. Tommy deserved better.

He begrudgingly rolled over to face Tommy and Buck’s heart was struck with guilt as he saw the pain and concern painted across Tommy’s face.

“Evan, baby, can you please tell me what’s wrong?” There was that sweet, genuine sincerity that terrified the hell out of him.

“It’s just…you make all these super sweet promises that sound like you’re gunna be around forever; and we don’t know that,” Buck explained.

“So am I coming on too strong? Do you want me to stop? I don’t mean to rush things or put pressure on you-,” Tommy nervously began to explain.

“No, it’s not too strong. And no, i don’t want you to stop. I like it a lot. Too much, actually, and that’s the problem. I’m scared at how much I like it and I’m terrified about getting too used to it in case this all goes south. You sound like you’re promising forever but you can’t.”

There was another pause as Tommy began to process everything Buck said. “Can I hold your hand?” Tommy softly asked. Buck gently nodded in response.

Tommy moved his free arm to Buck’s, and entwined their hands together, locking fingers. “Evan,” Tommy began, holding his gaze. “You’re right. I cant promise forever. I don’t think our very first sleepover warrants any ring-talk.”

Buck let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, please do not. That’s a red flag.”

“Fair,” Tommy said playfully. “But here’s what I do know. I’m 39, almost 40. I have no intention of plying the field and I’m tired of meaningless flings. I get the feeling you are too based on the handful of threats I’ve received about treating you right; which I absolutely plan on doing.”

Buck chuckled at the thought of everyone giving Tommy the ‘If you hurt him speech.’ “Who all gave you the speech?”

“Maddie. Eddie. Bobby, who found it pertinent to remind me that Athena is a police sergeant,” Tommy explained.

“Oh my god,” Buck said. “I’m surprised you didn’t run on the spot.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” *Tommy said sternly. “I have no intentions of going anywhere. And granted, it’s possible life is going to throw us some shit. But I’m willing to fight for you, Evan. And as long as both our lives are better with each other in it, then I’m willing to give this a genuine shot. I’m ready to put in the effort for this.”

Buck stewed and marinated and contemplated Tommy’s words. “Is that not a sentiment most people have at the start?”

“No it is not,” Tommy answered matter-of-factly. “Especially in the gay community. I’m not saying everyone, but I’ve ran into my fair share of guys only looking for Mr. Right Now. Or a daddy.”

Buck started to laugh heartily at the thought of Tommy being a ‘daddy’. He understood, though. Buck kinda agreed.

“I want off the hamster wheel, Evan. And I will do everything I can to reassure you that I mean it.”

Buck leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend deeply. Tommy wrapped his arms back around Buck and held him tight.

“I don’t want to hurt you either, if it’s any consolation,” Buck replied.

“I appreciate that. I don’t know if I have another heartbreak in me either. I spent too many years being inauthentic to myself and unhappy. I don’t want to waste anymore time of my life.”

“So we’re in good hands with each other?” Buck asked.

“I think so,” *Tommy said with a soft, warm smile that made Buck feel so safe and happy with it.

“I think so, too,” Buck said as he leaned in for one more kiss. “Ready to go back to sleep?”

“I suppose that’s up to your nose,” *Tommy said playfully as he turned the light off and pulled his boyfriend in close.

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #kinkley #tommy kinard #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #buck buckley

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sansaorgana · 8 months ago

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I just need to know how buck would react to his wife Breastfeeding! I feel like he is definitely a tits kind of man

oh, darling, let's be real – he's a ✨personality ✨ kind of man 🤭😂 but yeah, I agree 👀 also, I love him being a softie so much 😌 I didn't put any warnings but I assume you know already what to expect from this fic lol 🍼

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Usually, it was Buck who would leave the bed in the middle of the night to bring the crying baby to you but today he seemed to be so deep in his sleep that no amount of your daughter’s screaming was waking him up. You sighed and caressed his hair softly without wanting to wake him up – he deserved his rest as well, after all, and it had been a long and tiring week for him at work.

You got out of the bed and put a robe loosely upon your nightgown as you slid your feet inside a pair of slippers waiting for you on the carpet. Softly and quietly you left the bedroom and hurried to the nursery where your little girl was crying her lungs out.

“Hey, shh, shh,” you cooed to her while picking her up after turning a small lamp on. It was not very bright and perfect for the nighttime when little Dolores was getting hungry.

You sat with her on the rocking chair by the window and kept shushing her softly, trying to unbutton your nightgown clumsily with your free hand while keeping her steady with your other arm.

“Don’t cry, little one, don’t wake daddy up, he needs his rest,” you smiled at her and adjusted her in your arms so she could finally get fed as you watched her tiny features in awe. You were still quite sleepy but you would never change anything. Sleep was not as important as spending time with your baby.

Lost in thoughts and Dolly’s sweet little face, you didn’t notice Buck leaning on the doorway and watching you with the same amount of love as you were staring at your babygirl with.

When you looked up for a second, you got startled at the sight of him and then you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out. “I woke up and you weren’t there but there was a light coming from the hall so I knew where you went,” he explained with a soft smile.

“You should have stayed in bed, love,” you whispered to him.

“And miss this? No way,” your husband approached you and crouched down next to you so he could see Dolly’s face, too. She opened her eyes and looked at him as she kicked her little feet. Buck grabbed them and caressed them gently. “Isn’t she perfect?” He looked up at you and gasped.

“Yes, she is,” you nodded but you furrowed your brow at his gasp. “What is it?”

“You’re a goddess, really,” he admitted and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, Gale, please,” you dismissed that praise shyly.

“I mean it,” Buck whispered and gently let go of Dolly’s feet to caress your cheek with his finger. “After everything I’ve been through, all that death and darkness… You’re a beacon of light, a life-giver, a mother,” he explained. “And I will forever worship you for that.”

You cracked a smile at his words and fought the tears forming in your eyes.

“I wish you haven’t gone through any of that,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“But I have and maybe thanks to that I can appreciate what I have even more,” Buck nodded.

“You’ve always been a good man,” you reminded him and it was true. Your husband had always been kind and generous and a gentleman. You had never complained about anything that actually mattered. He didn’t deserve any of the suffering he had been through and he certainly hadn’t needed it to help him shape his character because he had simply always been a good man.

Even in that dim light you could see your husband’s cheeks turning slightly pink. He was adorable, like a little boy. You wished you could hold him close and make all his pain go away, all the awful memories, all the nightmares, all the triggers. You just wanted him to relax, you wanted to give him peace.

Little Dolly squealed a bit and you looked down to see her mouth curling up in a small smile as droplets of milk were dripping down her chin. You chuckled at that and lifted her up as Buck took a tissue from the changing table to wipe her face gently.

“I’ll take her,” he offered and you let him take the baby. Buck started to carry her around while patting her back delicately and you wiped the milk leaking out of your breast swiftly before buttoning the nightgown up.

You kept sitting in the rocking chair and watching your lovely husband walking around the small nursery that he had prepared by himself before Dolly’s arrival to this world. And now was humming a lullaby to his little girl and everything seemed to be so perfect and cosy. You couldn’t be happier than that, you thought.

When Dolly could be placed back in her crib, Buck made sure to watch over her until she fell asleep. He told you to go back to the bedroom and even though you felt guilty that once again he was the one to stay up in the nursery, you were grateful for him telling you to rest instead.

You were still weak after the childbirth and all the pregnancy and he was just one of those husbands who actually appreciated their wives for carrying their children for them. He was tired after this previous week, too, but he knew his exhaustion was no match compared to yours.

So, you went back to the bedroom and you sat up with the pillows behind your back because you wanted to wait for him. You weren’t that sleepy anymore but you were grateful for the possibility of going back to bed – especially your spine was very happy about it.

Buck came back not so long after you since it never took Dolly long to fall asleep in the middle of the night after being fed. You hoped it would stay this way. In general, so far she had been a quite unproblematic child of a gentle nature and you suspected it was a trait she had after her father.

Buck went under the cover and laid down next to you, looking up at you with his pretty puppy eyes as he leaned in to kiss your tummy.

“You sleepy, darling? Want me to turn the light off?” You asked him and caressed his hair.

“It’s fine. I want to stay up and keep looking at you for a while,” he admitted and you giggled.

“You’re mad,” you pointed out playfully.

“Sure I am. Mad about you,” Buck answered and you rolled your eyes as you kept caressing his hair and face – gently, with your fingertips, tracing the outlines of the thin scars scattered all over his face.

“I love you,” you whispered with all seriousness.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back with a soft smile.

There were many other things that had been told between you two with those three words but you didn’t have to actually list them all out loud. Your “I love you” was enough to thank him for his sacrifice, for surviving the war and coming back to you. It was enough to let him know you would take it all away from him if it was possible. And his “I love you, too” was enough for you to know that he knew what you meant and he thanked you for understanding and for waiting for him, for always treating him so kind and soft – for giving him a baby, too.

Buck moved closer to you and buried his face in your nightgown, breathing in your scent. You kept playing with his hair and sighed softly when he looked up with a smile.

“It smells so sweet,” he whispered and you furrowed your brow because you hadn’t used any perfume before going to bed. “The milk, I assume,” he added and unbuttoned two of the small buttons of your nightgown to bury his face deeper into your chest and take a deep breath in. “Yeah, it’s the milk,” he nodded.

“It tastes sweet, too,” you told him with a smirk and Buck tilted his head as he kept looking up at your face.

“How do you know?” He chuckled.

“Sometimes, when it leaks out on my fingers, I am too lazy to wipe it off and I just lick it off of my fingers,” you confessed. “Well, I was pretty curious about it, too,” you told him, hoping he wouldn’t judge you.

But Buck would never judge you.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down between your breasts as if he was contemplating on something. Finally, he looked up again and his cheeks were crimson red.

“Can I… Can I taste it, too?” He asked.

You were taken aback by this question. Not that you found it obscene or disgusting but you definitely did not expect your husband to request such a thing.

“Yes, my love, of course,” you smiled at him with a nod and began to work on your buttons. You would never deny him anything.

“Only if… If it’s still gonna be enough for Dolly in the morning,” Buck interrupted you by placing his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, she’s gonna have enough,” you assured him with a chuckle and he nodded.

Buck watched in awe when you kept unbuttoning your nightgown – a sight he had seen many times now but this time it was different. It was only for him and you were doing it slowly, which was done on purpose to give him a little show. It felt intimate on a level he had never been with you before although he had never thought it possible.

He nearly moaned at the sight of your swollen breasts jumping out of your nightgown. They had gotten so big due to your pregnancy and he was obsessed with them even more than usual now. A simple thought that they were swollen with milk for his baby was enough to make him have impure thoughts sometimes. He had always worshipped you and the ground you walked on but you becoming a mother of his child only intensified the feeling – he couldn’t believe his happiness, really. The woman he loved so much was loving him back and she wanted to give him a family even though she had to sacrifice so much and her body was a real miracle for actually being able to grow a child and give birth… For Buck you truly were a goddess and he couldn’t care less if it was a blasphemy or not.

Carefully, he touched your breasts and you hissed quietly because they were so sore and sensitive. But Buck knew that already so he was trying to be as gentle as possible when he softly massaged them and watched the milk leak out. He allowed it to flow for some time and only when your breasts were covered in white streamlets, he licked them up while peppering your skin with kisses.

“So sweet,” he said and looked up as you noticed his pupils darkening. You knew that look very well.

“Baby, it’s too early for us to…” You started.

“I know, don’t worry,” he interrupted you and moved up a little to get better access. “I won’t hurt you,” he assured you and you believed him because Buck would never do anything to harm you.

He attached his lip to your nipple and began to suck. You sighed out of relief and threw your head back while caressing his hair and feeling how his muscles relax under your touch. It was all you wanted for him – to finally rest and be at peace, to feel safe in your arms.

His soft, plump lips sucking on your sore nipples softly were making you feel warm all over your body. You were sighing and gasping with pleasure as the hardness of his cock grew, brushing your thigh under the fabric of his pyjama pants.

You felt bad for him because he wouldn’t be able to properly fuck you in two more weeks so you decided to please him in a different way. One of your hands wandered all the way down and under his pants to take his hard and swollen cock. You could already feel the leaking precum and you had to admit, you were pretty surprised that sucking your breasts could make him get so hard so fast but on the other hand you two hadn’t had sex in over a month now.

“Ooh, so heavy. Let me help you with that, baby,” you moaned at the feeling.

With your other hand you kept caressing the back of his head as you started to pump his cock. Buck moaned into your chest and attached his lips to the other nipple as his hands played with your free breast. He bucked his hips to help you jerk him off since he was so desperate to finally have his sweet release. He was nearly as desperate as he had been after coming back home from Europe but you didn’t mind that at all. In fact, you found it pretty hot that he was so needy for you and that it wasn’t taking much for him to finish because of you.

“Shh, you’re such a good boy for me,” you assured him in a whisper. “Let go, baby, don’t hold back.”

You picked up your pace and let your thumb circle around his tip to stimulate him even further and in a few chaotic thrusts of his hips, he came all over your hand while gasping and holding on to you. You kissed the top of his head with a soft smile and caressed his softening cock a few more times before reaching out to your nightstand for a tissue to clean up the mess.

“Did it feel good?” You asked, looking down at his face. His pretty baby blue eyes were hazy and his lips slightly parted. His flushed cheeks and messy hair were making him look even more adorable.

“It felt like heaven,” he breathed out.

You chuckled at that and wiped the corners of his mouth with another tissue to clean him up from your milk before cleaning up your breasts, too. Buck rolled over to lay on his back as he ran his hand through his hair and down his face.

“We can do it more often if you want to,” you told him after throwing the tissues away. “It felt nice… Such a relief,” you told him truthfully. “Sometimes she doesn’t drink enough and I am too full,” you added and rested your cheek on your elbow as you stared at his face lovingly.

Buck turned his face around to look into your eyes. He was still blushing slightly but he cracked a shy smile at you.

“Yeah, well, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to help you then, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled before leaning in to kiss his cheek and then the top of his nose and lips.

“You’re an amazing husband, darling. Performing all of your duties so well that you should get a medal for that,” you teased him playfully.

“I don’t collect my medals,” he reminded you. He still didn’t collect the ones he had been given in Europe.

“Oh, this one you will,” you assured him with a wink. “Just give me two weeks.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #austin butler x reader #gale cleven x reader #*buck #lilysfiction

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once-upon-an-imagine · 1 year ago

Note

I’d love a request where the reader is Bobbys daughter and dating Buck. It’s a hot day and the reader has gone to the firehouse to see everyone but she ends up feeling unwell because of the heat and Buck looks after her.

hello, love! ahh thank you so much for this request! and thanks to everyone who voted! it's my first time writing for Buck so I hope you like it! also, I'm not sure why, I swear I read somewhere that Bobby didn't know they were dating so that's kind of the course this took, so I hope that's okay! Warnings: reader faints because of the heat; I think that’s it, but always let me know if I missed anything Disclaimer: I don’t own 9-1-1 😊 gif isn’t mine 😁

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Heatwave

"Okay, how does this look?" you asked, placing the lasagna in the middle of the table. Buck had texted you that the team was on their way back so you needed to hurry up.

"For the third time, honey, yes. It looks good" Athena said as she brought the bread with her and you went over to finish the salad you were making. You had learned a thing or two from your father and you started to actually enjoy cooking. It brought the two of you together after you lost the rest of your family, and it usually helped calm you down, but not today. "Look, I know you're nervous about telling your dad about you and Buck, but you need to breathe and relax" she said, walking closer to you.

You had been seeing Buck for a long time now. At first, you didn't want to tell your dad, mostly because you weren't even sure if the two of you were serious. Then, it got serious quickly and the two of you agreed to tell your dad when you were both ready. So now, because the two of you wanted to move in together, you knew you had to tell him. So, here you were, cooking your father's favorite meal for lunch, and hoping to have your dad in a good mood for later tonight when you were going to finally tell him.

"I know, I know" you said to Athena, who had kindly volunteered to help you since it was her day off. "It's just... my dad has hated every single boyfriend I've had" you told her.

"Oh, I know. He's told me about all the insipid, idiot, good-for-nothings you've dated before" she said, making you widen your eyes at her. "His words not mine" she said, making you roll your eyes. "But he adores Buck, like his own son. I mean, they even went to a Bruce Springsteen concert together" she reminded you.

"Ugh, I know, nobody loves Springsteen as much as those two" you said, making Athena let out a chuckle. "Look, I know he loves Buck... as part of his team. I'm not sure if he's gonna love Buck as my boyfriend" you said, nervously.

"Of course he will. Because as much as he loves Buck, he loves you more than anything and anyone" she reminded you. "And he's going to see how happy he makes you" she smiled.

"You really think so?" you asked, smiling back.

"I really do" she nodded. It actually meant a lot to you what Athena thought too. You knew she didn't particularly like Buck at first, but she had mentioned to you how he's changed and how she sees that the two of you brought out the best in each other. "Looks like they're here" she said, when you saw the truck pulling into the station.

"Okay" you said, placing the salad on the table. "I think the bear claws are done" you said, wiping your hands on your apron, and went over to the oven.

"Really? You had to make his favorite dessert?" Athena said, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you trying a bit too hard?"

"Better safe than sorry" you smiled nervously.

"Hey, what's all this?" Hen asked, being the first one to get upstairs.

"Do I smell your dad's famous lasagna?" Chim was the next one to appear. "Please tell me I'm right" he smiled, seeing at the setup table.

"You are correct" you smiled.

"Oh, this is why you're my favorite Nash" he smiled.

"Hey! I heard that" you heard your father coming up. "This is a nice surprise" he smiled, looking at the two of you before he went over to his wife and gave her a kiss.

"Yeah-" Athena started before you interrupted her.

"It was Athena's idea" you quickly said. "I uh, just... tagged along to help with the cooking" you smiled as Buck and Eddie finally made it upstairs.

"Hey, little Nash" Eddie said, walking over to greet you. Aside from Athena, he was the only one who knew about the two of you. And Christopher.

"Well, I'm happy to see you" Bobby said, before walking over to you and kissing your head. "Both of you" he added. "This looks good, duck" he smiled as you rolled your eyes a little.

"Why is it that he calls you duck?" you heard Chimney ask when he was taking his seat.

"Why does he call you Chimney?" you smirked and he glared at you.

Your dad laughed and walked over to the table with Athena as he started telling Hen and Chim that he called you duck because you used to be a really grumpy kid and when you were a toddler, you sounded like Donald Duck whenever you argued with him about something.

"Hey" Buck said, walking closer to you as you walked to the oven. "How are you feeling?" he smiled.

"I'm... fine" you smiled wearily.

"You're a terrible liar" he chuckled.

"I know" you said, opening the oven and feeling the heat struck you. It was already extremely hot outside. This just made it ten times worse. "I'm just a little nervous" you said, getting back up, suddenly feeling dizzy, and making you drop the tray with bear claws a bit faster and louder than you intended on the counter, getting the attention of the four people on the table.

"Whoa" Buck said, worriedly, getting closer to you.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Eddie asked. "You're sweating a lot"

"Yeah, no I just... felt a bit light-headed" you said, placing your wrist on your forehead.

"Did you eat something today? Maybe you need to sit down" Buck said pulling you closer to him. "Look at me" he instructed.

"I'm fine, sweetheart-" you tried smiling before Buck saw your eyes roll over to the back of your head and you collapsed in front of him. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, preventing you from falling all the way to the ground.

"Bobby!" Buck yelled, even if Bobby was already rushing to you as Buck and Eddie carried you to the sofa.

"Chim! Hen! Get your bag!" Bobby ordered. "What happened?"

"I think it's the heat" Eddie said as Chimney came running back up with his bag, handing Hen what she needed.

"Did she eat anything at all today?" she questioned.

"Not while she was with me" Athena replied.

"She didn't have breakfast either" Buck said, feeling guilty. He was the main reason why you were late and didn't have breakfast.

"What? She didn't?" Bobby asked, confused. "Wait, how do you know that?"

"Um... she texted me?" Buck smiled, nervously as Eddie and Athena shared a look, thinking it was probably best to give everyone some space.

"You two... text each other?" Bobby asked as Chimney and Hen shared a different, confused look.

"Oh, I did not see this coming" Chim muttered to Hen.

"Seriously? You didn't?" she asked before going back to examining you.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You slowly opened your eyes and realized you were at the 118 station and you had a cold cloth pressed against your forehead. You tried to sit up but Buck quickly ran over to you.

"Whoa, easy there, love" he said, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. "Hi" he smiled sweetly at you, offering you a bottle of water. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit dumb, to be honest" you chuckled, accepting the water and taking a sip. "W-what happened?"

"You fainted" he reminded you. "Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you hadn't eaten today?"

"I'm sorry" you frowned. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. I didn't have time to eat this morning and, then I went to work, and then I started cooking and I lost track of time and, I guess the heat didn't help" you said shyly.

"No, it didn't" your dad said, walking over and sitting on the edge of the sofa. "How are you feeling duck?"

"A bit better" you said.

"Well, it's a good thing your boyfriend is always alert and quick on his feet" he said, casually.

"Yeah, he- wait, what did you say?" you froze, realizing what he'd just say. "Did I hit my head?" you asked Buck. "Did my dad just call you my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, sweetheart" Buck smiled apologetically. "I know you had a whole thing planned tonight, but I let it slip that you didn't have breakfast today, and well... I kind of told him" he explained.

"Y-you did?" you asked, feeling a bit nauseous again. "Does he know we're moving in together?"

"What?!"

"He does now" Buck said with a tight-lipped smile.

"You're moving in together?" your dad asked.

"I uh-" you stuttered. "Y-yeah" you admitted. "W-we were going to tell you tonight at dinner" you insisted.

"Is that why you came to make my favorite lunch? So I'd be in a good mood?" he asked, knowing you too well.

"M-maybe?" you smiled. "A-are you mad?"

"No, honey. I'm not mad" he chuckled, pulling you closer and kissing your temple. "I don't love the fact that you hid it from me for so long" he added. "But I'm glad you're with someone who I know cares about you as much as I know Buck does" he smiled. "And, if I'm being honest, I kind of suspected it for a while" he said, surprising you.

"You did not" you glared at him.

"You both are terrible liars and I mean, you only make bear claws when you're giving me bad news" he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

"Wait, does that mean, I'm bad news?" Buck asked.

"What? N-no" you said unconvincingly. "I make them when I'm not sure how he will react" you insisted.

"Yeah" Bobby said. "To bad news" he repeated with a chuckle. I'm glad you're happy, duck" he told you.

"Thanks, dad" you smiled. "I really am" you told him.

"I'm gonna go get you something to eat, okay?" he said, getting up and kissing your head again. "Don't ever scare me like that again" he muttered before walking away.

"So, your dad knows about us" Buck smiled at you.

"Yeah, and it didn't go bad at all" you said, excitedly.

"Not bad at all? Sweetheart, do I need to remind you that you just fainted?"

"Well, yeah but... I mean aside from that" you pouted, making him smile at you before giving you a peck on the lips.

"You really scared me" he said, worriedly.

"I'm sorry, love" you insisted.

"You don't have to apologize" he said. "Especially since it was kind of my fault you didn't have breakfast" he said, blushing a little. "But now that we are going to live together, I will make sure you don't leave the house without eating first" he instructed, making you roll your eyes a little.

"Fine" you smiled before he leaned in for another kiss. "I love you" you told him.

"I love you too" he smiled.

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: aahhh! I hope you loves liked it!

#9-1-1 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley drabble

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tommykinard6 · 6 days ago

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Indulge me in a little throwback will you?

Now, you all may not know this. But I used to not like Buck. I know, I know. Shocking. First season, I couldn’t stand him. Now, if I watched it back, I might see it from a different lenses. Especially being closer now to his age in the first season. But I truly, could not stand him most of the time.

Also, I think it was the fandom obsessing over him for me. Turned me off before I felt like giving him a chance.

Eddie arrived in season 2 and boom. Favorite character. I adored him. And through him, I started to like Buck more. I felt like he helped bring out the best of Buck. That’s probably why I fell into the Buddie shipping so hard.

I was an avid Buddie shipper for years, until season 7. And y’all, I could write a long post on the problems in that section of the fandom that have existed for years. Very particularly, in fanfics.

But that’s not this post. Maybe another, if you want.

Believe it or not, this isn’t actually a shipping discourse post.

Something has really rubbed me ever so slightly the wrong way since the start of season 8. Now, not to see this hasn’t happened in previous seasons, but it just felt like everyone just didn’t…care about actually listening to Buck.

Even Maddie, the ever loving and listening sister. Feels a bit like she hasn’t had time for him and then also makes a tasteless and sort homophobic joke when he wanted to talk about Tommy and Abby.

Eddie has been crumbling since season 7, and I’ve been hating what they’ve done to his character’s storyline, but to hear him talk to or about Buck sometimes, I wonder if he knows or likes him much.

Buck is lashing out, sure. Saying things he shouldn’t. But this is his family. His family who knows damn well he has bad abandonment issues, who has seen him struggle with his self esteem for years, but they don’t think to look past what he’s saying to the meaning behind it?

I relate to Buck. And I know Buck’s been a favorite of mine now since season 4, but I never realized that I related to him so much. Because I too am used to people thinking they know me more than I know myself. That they know my intentions better than me. I’ve never felt so seen and I’ve never felt so mad to see him getting brushed off by anyone and everyone around him.

I’ve run out of steam, but I’m just gonna say. I need this narrative to start changing. Buck is an adult. Not only that, he’s a 33 year old man who has gone through therapy and life altering realizations about himself and his past to discover the root of his abandonment issues and openly acknowledges that he has them. It doesn’t take any genius to see he lacks some perception of his own worth.

Yet people continue to refuse to give him any grace.

The 118 really pulled together in the last episode as a family. I really need them to pull together to rally for Buck because he’s floundering. And also, someone smack Eddie across the head.

#911 abc #911 show #9-1-1 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #tw: Buddie mention #eddie diaz #maddie han #tk6 vents

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darsynia · 3 months ago

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Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while.

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

🪴🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view.

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek.

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- “Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you).

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.”

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly.

“I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

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indycinders · 2 months ago

Text

Pure smut cause my uterus is trying to kill me.

Maybe a bit of praise kinks in there? Jealousy? Idk it's Caleb lmao. Enjoy.

P.S. not canon to their actual story in my head, maybe it's a dream Caleb had, who knows uvu Also obviously pre-explosion era.

Edit: forgot to add the title aaaaa

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Above the Clouds"

“It was nice of your roommates to give us some time alone,” Cinders remarked as she walked over to Caleb and sat down between his legs, a towel on her head and wearing one of Caleb's old shirts over a pair of shorts.

They'd been coming back from a festival in the park when it started raining, both of them running to his dorm unable to stop themselves from getting soaked to the bone. Caleb urged Cinders to take a shower first so she wouldn't get sick, and while she was doing so, he negotiated with his roommates to leave. He was out fifty bucks, but that was nothing compared to the silence and solitude of a night in with her.

He wouldn't have to worry about any of them making suggestive comments towards her, or flirting with her. Nope, she was all his for the night.

“Yeah, they have a thing they're going to tonight,” he said, grabbing her by the hips and scooting her closer. He reached for the towel around her head and started drying her hair as she settled in and turned her attention to the small TV in his room. He had one of her favorite shows playing.

When he was done drying her hair, he picked up the brush and began pulling it through the unbelievably soft burgundy strands. He could smell the shampoo wafting up to his nose and he felt that familiar ache in his lower abdomen. The tips of his ears burned as he shifted slightly.

“A thing?” she echoed. “I didn't ruin your hangout plans with your friends, did I?”

Cinders tilted her head back enough to just barely see Caleb above her. He smiled at how adorable she was and shook his head quickly. “No, no. I'm not into what they do anyway,” he reassured her, nudging her head back into place.

“Really?” she hummed, her tone skeptical. “Gideon says differently.”

He felt his eye twitch. “Since when did you speak with Gideon?” Enough to refer to him so casually, too.

“Oh, it was a bit earlier when I was waiting for you,” she explained. “Do… do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

His hand gripped the brush handle tightly and he had to make an effort to keep his motions gentle and soft and not fueled by his irritation. “Uh, I don't know. Why? Do you like him?” he winced, noticing his tone sounding a bit demanding.

Cinders shrugged, shifting in her seat between his thighs, still watching the show on the TV. “Mm, I don't know. He asked for my number earlier. Guess I just want to make sure I'm not giving it to some player,” she laughed a little.

Caleb's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. No, this wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to get interested in anyone. Before he could stop himself, he put the brush down and pulled her flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Oof!” Cinders let out a surprised huff of air, wiggling in his arms but it was clear Caleb wasn't going to let go. “Caleb…?”

“You can't-” he choked out, clearing his throat. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in and trying to compose himself. “You're not allowed to date my friends.”

“Caleb-” she squirmed again but he only tightened his hold.

“I'm serious, pipsqueak. No. You've gone this long without seeing anyone, why now?” his voice was strained and off-sounding.

“I-I don't know, I was just wondering,” she mumbled, feeling her face heat up. The way he was holding her like he was afraid to let go felt different. “I won't date any of your friends, Cal, okay?”

“No one,” he mumbled, nuzzling into her neck. His hands slipped under his shirt that she wore, feeling her soft stomach. He felt her shiver but she stilled under his touch. His lips curled into a smirk against her neck. “No one should be able to hold you like this. Touch you like this.”

One of his hands caressed upward, his calloused fingertips brushing against the soft underside of her breasts. He could feel the goosebumps rising to the surface of her skin. His other hand slid underneath the loose shorts she wore, his fingers brushing against the coarse yet soft trimmed hair on her mound.

“C-Caleb, what-?” Cinders sucked in a breath as his long fingers stroked the outside of her lips, sending tingles straight to her core and igniting that delicious burning sensation.

“It should be me, Kit,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling aside her hair to get at her neck. “The one touching you like this. Showing you how to feel good. The only one you think of like this…”

His mouth pressed hot kisses against her neck. He felt Cinders lean back against him, tilting her head to the side and letting him continue. He took it as her consent, his left hand squeezing and teasing her breasts and nipples, eliciting sweet little whimpers and gasps from her plush lips.

It wasn't until the index finger of his right hand slipped between her moistened folds, gently stroking along her slit until he circled his finger around that precious little nerve bundle, that she let out anything resembling a moan.

And Jesus Christ it went straight to his cock, throbbing and aching against the fabric of his pajama pants. He groaned and sank his teeth into the crook of her neck, sucking a mark into her pale skin. “My sweet little pipsqueak,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “Keep making those noises for me, okay? I'm going to help you feel good, honey.”

Cinders bit her lip and nodded, relaxing back into him some more. His hand splayed across her chest, holding her to his own, while his other hand continued to swirl around her clit and tease her entrance. When he started inserting his finger inside of her, her knees bent and she tried to close her legs at the intrusion.

Caleb used his Evol to force them apart again, spreading her wide. He even pulled her shorts off the rest of the way. “Caleb,” Cinders whined, turning her head to glare at him.

“Tell me no,” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he continued to slowly finger her. “Say the word and I'll stop, Kitty.”

Her eyes studied him for a moment, her face flushing as her body responded to his touch. “I want it,” she practically whined instead, panting a little.

His cock twitched almost violently against her ass when he heard her say that. “Everything or just this?” he nibbled along her jaw, working his finger in and out of her slowly, getting her used to the feeling.

She let out another moan when he inserted a second finger, unable to move her legs due to his Evol, so her hands moved up behind her, grabbing his shoulders. “E-everything,” her voice was breathy and shaking. “I want everything.”

Caleb could feel her nails digging into his skin, groaning softly. He bit her again, sucking another harsh mark into her skin. She was his, and he'd leave a reminder for her and everyone else. “Good girl,” he murmured.

The pace of his fingers pumping in and out of her steadily increased, and she squirmed against him, the melody of her pleasure lifting into the air around them. The TV show was forgotten. Only they existed in this room, this moment.

“Ahh, fuck,” Caleb groaned again, unable to take the throbbing ache any longer. “Kit, do you think you're ready for me?”

“Mhm,” she panted.

He didn't need any more confirmation before he lifted her up, freed himself from his pants, and guided himself to her entrance. His thick head was already seeping with precum, eager to delve deep inside of her.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts,” he grunted through clenched teeth, holding himself back from just ramming up into her.

“Okay.”

A guttural moan bubbled up from his chest as he began lowering her slowly onto his cock, her folds stretching and squeezing around him. When he hit resistance, he took his time, working himself in and out of her. He was gentle, he was sweet, kissing her and whispering sweet praises.

Caleb knew it was her first time. It was his, too. And he wanted her to feel good, and loved, and everything that he felt about her. “Good girl, doing so well for me, aren't you, Kit?” he crooned softly, nuzzling his face against hers.

“You coulda told me you were fuckin’ huge,” she huffed, pouting. Her hands were on his thighs, helping to hold herself up.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Where's the fun in that?” he teased. “You're taking me well, anyway.”

“You're so crude,” she mumbled.

“And who's the one that said she wanted everything?” he retorted playfully.

He worked past the barrier, earning a slight whimper of pain from her. “Shh, babygirl, I've got you,” he kissed her cheek, jaw, down her neck, whispering praises in between.

“I'm okay,” she whimpered softly, her hips shifting, wanting to keep going. This staying still business was only driving her insane.

“Ready? Just relax and let me do it,” he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know if you want to change anything.”

Cinders nodded. With his hands on her hips, he began to set a steady rhythm between them, guiding her and rocking his own hips up into her. His own sounds of pleasure mixed with hers. Soon, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her to him while his other hand slipped down.

He almost came just from feeling his own cock inside of her with his fingers. He slowed down a bit, wanting to savor the moment, and found her little nub of pleasure again. He rubbed at her clit and continued rutting up into her.

“Caleb- haaa- please, I need more,” Cinders begged. “Faster.”

He obeyed her demand, thrusting into her quicker, sinking his cock deep within her and moaning at the way she squeezed around him so fucking deliciously. “God, you feel so good, Kitty,” he panted. “Just like I imagined. Better even.”

The squelching noises from their mixed juices, along with their cries of passion, could only be described as perverted. “Cal- please- I need-” Cinders whimpered and panted, unable to complete a coherent sentence.

But he knew what she meant. Caleb's fingers on her clit applied more pressure, rubbing circles and driving her closer to that sweet peak. He shifted their position, lifting her with him as he bent her over the coffee table, fucking into her with more purpose.

“I know- what you need, babygirl,” he grunted with his efforts. He shifted his angle and suddenly she cried out the moment he hit that sweet spot inside of her.

She clenched around him so tightly, there was no hope for him. He let out another moan, deep from within his chest, his hips jerking and stuttering as his hands moved to clench her hips, pulling her back against him. “Ah, fuck, Cinders-!” he gasped her name.

She was boneless and feeling like jelly on the table as he pumped his hips forward, fucking his warm cum deeper inside of her, hitting her sweet spot and overstimulating them both. With a soft groan, he finally pulled himself free and collapsed over her, resting his weight on her back.

“Kitty,” he murmured after a few seconds of catching his breath. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair to the side to look at her face. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, her eyes opening part way to look at him. She smiled a little. “I'm good, bunny.”

Jesus, that silly nickname of hers that he absolutely loved went right to his dick and he could already feel himself getting hard again. But he didn't want to push her too much tonight. “C’mon,” he got to his feet, fixing himself before lifted her into his arms. Caleb planted a sweet kiss on her forehead. “We need another shower.”

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the-winter-spider · 1 month ago

Text

Yours, Always | Part Four

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Grief, loss, angst, fluff

A/N: This ones short is kinda a filler to get things going! And to show case more of your relationship with steve ect!

also adding if you see the name Mary let me know so I can change it I originally had an original character and instead of y/n the name was mary!

Masterpost

----

Months pass.

The seasons change. Leaves fall, then snow, then the slow bloom of spring.

And life with your little family is picture-perfect, like it always is.

Your days are filled with warmth, with laughter, with the little joys of family life that should make you feel whole. Mornings start with sleepy kisses, with Lily climbing into your bed, giggling as Steve groans and pulls the blankets over both of you. Evenings are slow, wrapped in the glow of soft lamplight, the scent of dinner still lingering in the air as Steve reads Lily bedtime stories while you watch from the doorway, a smile on your lips.

It's perfect. It’s the all american dream. It is supposed to be your dream.

But deep down,you feel like you’re watching your own life instead of living it.

Like you’re moving through it on autopilot, like a ghost in your own home.

You don’t say anything, because how could you?

How could you look at this life, this love, this man who absolutely adores you, this child who calls you ‘Mommy’ and tell them that you feel like you’re sleepwalking? That you’re not strong enough to fight off this grief, this loss.

So you keep smiling.

You keep kissing Steve good morning. You keep twirling Lily around the kitchen. You keep playing the part of a woman who has finally found happiness.

And then one night Steve hands you a gift.

A notebook.

“I know you don’t like to talk about him much,” he says, his voice soft as he places it in your hands. “And I remember you telling me about what his Mom said and I think she was right, that maybe you should write to him.”

You look down at the leather-bound cover, fingers running over the single letter engraved on the smooth surface ‘B’ Your throat tightens, you feeling like your choking “I, Steve, I don’t—”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But maybe it would help.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, grounding, steady. “You always look like you have so much you want to say, I know it's hard” He exhales softly. “But maybe it’s time you said it.”

Your chest aches. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve smiles. “Start the way he did.”

And so you do.

That night, after Steve has gone to bed and the house is quiet, you sit at the kitchen table. The notebook is open in front of you, the blank pages waiting, waiting, waiting, just like you have been for ten years.

You pick up the pen and you just write.

Bucky,

I don’t even know what to say.

I guess that’s not true. I know exactly what I want to say. I just don’t know if I can bear to write it down.

But both your Mom and Steve think this will help, and they’re both probably right (usually are) So here I am.

It’s been years, Buck. Years. And somehow, it still hurts like it happened yesterday. I can’t seem to grasp the fact you're actually gone you know? Like my Bucky, my best friend is no longer here, no longer alive, no longer breathing and it's such a final thing but at the same time they never found you and I never will know what happened to you, that hurts just as much because it doesn’t feel final to have some part of you not home.

I should have written back. God, I should have written back. I read every single one of your letters, memorized them, traced my fingers over the ink like I could feel you through the pages. I use to read them and pretend the voice in my head was you saying it to me, I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss you.

But I never wrote back and you'll never truly know any of this.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for that.

Yours, Always

Y/N

---

Bucky,

Lily lost another tooth today.

You would have loved her, Buck. She’s bright, stubborn, fearless. She has this spark in her, like she knows exactly who she is, like the world can’t shake her. Steve says that's exactly how Natasha, her Mother was and I can see it y’know? I've seen pictures of Natasha and she looked like such a spit fire and that's Lily in a nutshell. They’re twins inside and out.

She reminds me of you. I wish you could have met her. But I don’t think I would have ever met her if you were still here. It's such a hard concept for me to grasp, it hurts to think about never knowing her and Steve, if you were here and it hurts so much not having you here.

I wish you were here.

Yours, Always

Y/N

---

Bucky,

I had a dream about you last night.

We were kids again, running through the streets, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. I woke up with tears on my pillow.

I don’t think I’ve ever told Steve that I dream about you ever since my Mom sent that photo of us, I can't get you out of my head.

Sometimes I wonder if he knows. If he notices the way I get quiet, the way I stare at nothing for too long, the way I keep one drawer in my dresser full of things I can’t bear to throw away.

I realised something today, Steve, he's only ever seen one picture of you from when we were eight and I want someone else to know your face, so I think tonight I’m going to show him the last photo I took of you. I hope that's okay.

Yours, Always

Y/N

The house is quiet, peaceful.

Lily is spending the night at Steve’s mom’s house, which means, for the first time in a while, not that you would ever complain, it's just the two of you.

No tiny feet running down the hallway, no Fancy Nancy bedtime stories. No Spongebob playing softly in the background.

Just you and Steve and the kind of night that feels easy and warm and safe because that's what Steve is.

You had both decided on a movie night, something simple, your favorite films, a pile of snacks, the couch turned into a futon for maximum comfort.

Steve had gone all out, he spoiled you. While you were upstairs changing into pajamas, he had been downstairs making it perfect. Probably lighting candles, plugging in the heated blanket, typical Steve things.

The soft rustling of blankets being rearranged, the clinking of bowls being set down on the coffee table, the low hum of him singing something under his breath as he moves around the living room.

It makes you smile, because this is him, thoughtful, attentive. The kind of person who takes care of people without even thinking about it.

But right as you're about to head down your gaze catches on that goddamn box and your mind wanders to what you wrote today to him, to Bucky about wanting to show Steve a picture of him that wasn’t blurry and from when you were both eight..

Your breath catches. Slowly, without meaning to, your feet carry you toward it.

Your fingers tremble as they brush over the box and you open the box mindlessly digging for a specific photo, once you find it you gasp, seeing him always feels so surreal, your thumb skimming across the picture, across the familiar face staring back at you.

It was one of the last photos you ever took of him.

Bucky, standing on a rock in the middle of the woods, the golden light of late summer spilling over him. His smile is wide, easy, unguarded, his features sharp and perfect in the sunlight.

The photo doesn’t look like a memory. It looks like a ghost, a life that never got to be lived. You stare a moment longer before you head down the stairs.

“Hey, hon?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, soft but warm. “You ready?”

You flinch slightly, realizing you're at the bottom of the stairs already quickly wiping at your eyes, tucking the photo against your chest like you need to protect it.

Steve notices he always does.

His brow creases as he sets down the last bowl of popcorn, turning toward you fully, his entire attention shifting. “What is it?”

You swallow hard, still gripping the photo. Your throat feels tight, but you force yourself to speak. “I… I wanna show you something.”

Steve straightens, his focus sharpening instantly. “Okay baby,” he says softly. “Show me.”

You take a slow, shaky breath. “I’ve been writing to Bucky.”

Steve’s face doesn’t change, but his expression softens in a way that tells you he already knew.

You start rambling, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I was telling him about you. About Natasha, about Lily. And I realized—” Your voice catches, but you push through. “I realized I’ve never shown you a recent picture of him before.”

Steve says nothing, but you can feel the weight of his attention, how much he’s really listening.

“It’s been over ten years,” you whisper, gripping the frame tighter, your heart aching. “And I just… I want someone else to know his face. I don’t want him to be forgotten.”

Your voice breaks on the last word and suddenly you’re crying.

Before you can even catch your breath, Steve is there, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest like he can physically hold you together.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “I would love to see him.”

The relief is instant, sharp and overwhelming. You pull back just slightly, his arm still firm around your shoulders, his presence grounding.

You take another deep breath, still sniffling, before you gently hold the photo out to him.

Steve’s eyes drop to the photo his whole face changes.

His breath catches, his lips parting slightly, his brows pulling together. His gaze sweeps over every detail, taking in the boy in the photograph, the one who lived in the spaces of your past, the one who never got to come home.

“Wow,” Steve exhales, almost in awe.

You wipe at your face, watching him absorb Bucky’s image.

“He was good looking, like really good looking, wow,” Steve murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shaky laugh escapes you, a new tear slipping down your cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, he was.”

Steve’s words settle over you like a warm, steady weight, grounding you in the moment.

“Thank you for showing me,” he murmurs. Then, he leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulls back, his hand stays on your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last trace of your tears.

“We should put him over there, if you want to.”

Your gaze follows where he gestures, the wall where all the people you love exist in frames. Photos of Lily’s bright, beaming smile. Of Steve and you on your first Christmas together, bundled up in coats, cheeks pink from the cold. Of Natasha and Steve at their college graduation.

A life carefully collected, curated, honored.

Your heart tightens, twists, aches. Bucky should have been there all along. “Okay,” you whisper, nodding.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He moves toward the wall, opening a drawer, pulling out a spare frame, scanning for the perfect spot. His movements are gentle, deliberate, thoughtful, like this isn’t just a picture to him, but a person, a piece of you, something that belongs. He hands you the frame, you carefully and wordlessly put him in the frame. Steve takes the frame with your permission, placing the photo in its new home among the others. Your fingers linger on the glass for just a second longer than necessary.

“There,” Steve says, his hand settling on the small of your back. “Now he’s here, too.”

You let out a breath you didn’t remember you were holding.

Steve presses another kiss to the top of your head before nudging your shoulder lightly. “Now, come on. I have popcorn, candy, and an extremely comfortable futon calling our names.”

You laugh, watery and uneven, but real.

“Sounds perfect.”

And as you let him pull you toward the couch toward the warmth, the comfort, the life you’ve built you glance back at the photo.

Bucky’s smile stays frozen in time, bathed in the glow of a summer that feels like a lifetime ago.

---

Bucky,

Do you remember the time we skipped school and drove to the lake? We blasted music the whole way, rolled the windows down, let the wind tangle our hair? I recreated that playlist, I added some new songs I thought you would like.

I don’t even remember what we talked about. Just that we were happy. That it felt like we had all the time in the world.

I was so stupid. I hate myself so much.

We never had time, I miss you.

Yours, Always

Y/N

Bucky,

Am I horrible for wishing it was you? I am i know I am.

I love Steve. I do. He’s good to me. He’s good for me and Lily is… she’s my everything.

But sometimes, I close my eyes, and I see you.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like.

I wonder if you ever imagined it, too.

Yours, Always

Y/N

Bucky,

I miss you.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

God, Buck, I don’t know how to live without missing you.

I don’t know if I ever will.

Yours, Always,

Y/N

The words blur together as tears slip down your cheeks, staining the pages.

You squeeze the notebook shut, press your palm against the cover like it might steady the ache in your chest.

And then a deep, shaky breath.

The house is silent, the clock ticking softly in the background, the weight of everything pressing against your ribs.

You run a hand over your face, trying to ground yourself.

---

It had been weeks since you smiled, really smiled.

You had met Steve in the grief support group, exchanged quiet words over coffee, let him sit across from you in silence when you didn’t have the strength to speak. He never pushed, ever pried. Just sat there, stirring his coffee, existing alongside you in a way that made the weight on your chest feel a little less suffocating. The way he took interest in you in a way no one had before, not since Bucky. Awoke something in you.

One evening, as the sun was setting, he had walked you home. You had barely spoke, lost in your own thoughts, your arms crossed against the cold.

“You wanna know something embarrassing?” Steve said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced up, startled by the shift in his voice. “Depends on how embarrassing.”

“Like, life-ruining embarrassing.” He looked at you, eyes playful for the first time since you met him. “But I feel like you could use a laugh, so I’m taking one for the team.”

You didn’t respond, but something in you softened.

He took a deep breath, like he was about to confess a crime, then.. “I used to be in a boy band.”

You stopped walking. “You’re lying.”

“Nope. I was fifteen. We were called The Brooklyn Saints. It was bad, Y/N. Like… frosted tips, synchronized dance moves, matching outfits bad.”

You blinked at him. Then….you laughed.

Not a polite chuckle, not a soft exhale. A real laugh, loud and sudden, bursting out of you before you could stop it.

Steve grinned, something like victory in his eyes. “There she is.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Steve, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, and now you have to live with that knowledge forever.”

“I can’t believe you told me that.” Your smile was bright, beaming.

Steve just smiled, his expression so uncomplicated, so unguarded, so effortlessly warm “I’d do anything to hear that laugh of yours.”

And the way he said it, so simply, so easily, like it was the truest thing in the world.

It made something inside you stumble.

---

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Steve’s voice is soft, familiar, grounding pulling you from your thoughts as he steps into the kitchen, his sleeves pushed up, hands still damp from washing Lily’s water bottle.

You glance up from where you’re absently drying dishes, your fingers tugging at the towel like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored. “Hey yourself.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there just a second longer than necessary like he can tell that something’s weighing on you, even if you haven’t said a word.

“Long day?” he murmurs.

“Something like that.”

Steve doesn’t push. He never does.

He just watches you, his eyes full of something deep and knowing, the kind of knowing that comes from loving someone long enough to understand the things they don’t say out loud.

Then, without another word, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest.

“Dance with me.”

You blink up at him. “There’s no music.”

He grins, that easy, lazy, lopsided smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“Then you’ll just have to pretend.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away.

Instead, you let him sway you gently, his hands warm against your back, his touch steady and sure.

The kitchen is quiet, just the soft hum of the refrigerator, the muffled sound of Lily’s cartoons playing in the other room.

Steve starts humming.

It’s barely more than a whisper of a melody, something low and comforting, something that settles in your chest like warmth on a cold day.

Your body melts into his, your cheek pressing against his shoulder, and for the first time all day, you breathe.

The tension in your shoulders eases, the tightness in your chest loosens, and for a moment, just a moment the world outside doesn’t exist.

It’s just this.

Just you and Steve and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear.

“I love you, Steve.” It comes out quiet, unplanned, but honest in a way that makes your throat feel tight.

Steve stills.

He just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize the way you said it, the way your voice trembled just slightly, the way your hands are fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

And then, he smiles.

Not a grin, not something playful, something softer, deeper, something meant just for you. “I know.”

His thumb brushes gently over your cheek, his eyes searching yours like he’s seeing every part of you, even the pieces you try to keep hidden. “But I love hearing you say it anyway.”

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening in his shirt, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you.

But instead he just holds you closer. He presses his lips to your temple, lingers there for a long, quiet moment, then rests his forehead against yours. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

---

It had been slow.

Careful.

You weren’t ready for love when you met Steve.

And he knew that because neither was he.

But the first time he kissed you really kissed you, not just a gentle press of lips against your cheek, not just something fleeting and casual.

It had been different.

You had been standing in your living room, laughing about something stupid, and then suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. His gaze had shifted, soft but intense, full of something you didn’t know how to name yet.

And then, his fingers were on your jaw, tilting your chin up, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me to stop.” His voice had been so quiet, so steady, but his hands were shaking.

And you didn't tell him to stop.

Instead, you had leaned in and you let yourself be held.

---

After Lily is asleep, after Steve has showered and climbed into bed beside you, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling.

His arm is draped over your waist, his body warm against yours, his breathing slow and even. But your heart still feels heavy.

You shift carefully, reaching for the notebook on the nightstand, flipping it open to a blank page.

And then, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you begin to write.

Bucky,

I had a good day today.

Steve is everything, I know he is. I feel horrible about how I can't be truly happy. But I’ve started to wonder if he is too, we never truly talk about it all. I wonder if he wishes I was her sometimes, Natasha. I’m sure he does and it doesn’t hurt to think that, because I get it. I know if I told him or even let him read what I wrote he would.

Lily lost another tooth. We made pancakes this morning, and she got syrup in her hair, and I spent twenty minutes trying to wash it out while she giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

And for a second, just a second, I almost felt like I was really here.

I wish you could see her, Buck.

I wish you could see me, the person I’ve become. I don’t know if you’d recognize me.

Some days, I don’t recognize myself.

I don’t know what I’m doing, Buck.

I love them. I love them so much. But sometimes, it feels like I’m living a life that was never supposed to be mine. Like I stepped into someone else’s shoes, and I’m too afraid to take them off.

I’m happy, I think.

I just wish you were here.

I wish I knew what you’d say.

I wish I knew what you’d want me to do.

I miss you.

Yours, Always,

Y/N

You stare at the page for a long time.

Then, slowly, you close the notebook.

Steve stirs beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep.

You let him.

And in the quiet darkness, you wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling like half of you is somewhere else.

---

The wine is making your head light and airy, and you feel like you’re floating in the best way possible.

You and Steve are curled up on the couch, legs tangled together, empty glasses on the coffee table, the world outside quiet and still.

It had been one of those perfect nights, the kind that feel golden, weightless, wrapped in warmth and safety. Lily had been asleep for hours, and the two of you had spent the evening talking about everything and nothing, the way you used to in the early days.

Now, you’re both tipsy and giggling, his arm lazily draped around your shoulders as he tilts his head back against the cushions, grinning at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“You look happy,” he murmurs, eyes soft, warm, steady.

You laugh, nudging his knee with yours. “I am happy.”

His smile deepens, and for a long moment, he just watches you, blue eyes tracing every inch of your face. “Would you ever marry me?”

You blink.

The question comes so easily, so casually, like it just slipped out of him before he could stop it.

But there’s something real in his expression.

Something hopeful.

Something soft and unguarded.

Your heart swells, lifts, aches, all at once. “Instantly,” you say, without hesitation.

Steve blinks this time, eyes widening slightly, his whole face lighting up with surprise. “Really?”

You laugh again, grinning as you reach for his hand, squeezing it between yours. “Of course, Steve. I love you.”

His breath hitches, something raw and beautiful flickering behind his eyes.

“What would you want?” he asks after a moment, voice soft but eager, like he’s already picturing it.

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Nothing fancy.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“We could elope.” You shrug, biting your lip as you picture it. “No stress, no big parties, just us and Lily.”

Steve is grinning now, but you’re not done.

“And for our honeymoon?” You lean closer, your voice low and conspiratorial. “We take Lily camping. Like she keeps begging us to.”

His laughter is pure and golden, his head falling back against the couch.

“Our honeymoon is camping?”

“It would be perfect,” you insist, giggling, warmth blooming in your chest. “It would be us.”

Steve shakes his head, still laughing, still looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He reaches into his pocket.

You freeze.

Because suddenly, he’s holding a ring.

A simple, beautiful ring that you know he’s had for a while, just waiting, just hoping.

“So that’s a yes?” he asks, voice quiet, full of something too big for words.

Your breath catches, your heart stuttering in your chest, and suddenly you’re giggling again, shaking your head, covering your mouth in disbelief.

“No way.”

Steve is grinning so wide it looks like it hurts. “Way.”

You laugh, eyes stinging, chest too full “Yes,” you breathe.

And before you can say another word, he’s on you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, spinning you onto the couch beneath him as he smothers you in kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, anywhere he can reach.

“You’re my best girl, you know that?” he murmurs against your skin, voice breathless, full of love.

“Mmm,” you hum, smiling, laughing, kissing him back. “I better be.”

And for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Your mind flickers.

Just for a second. Just long enough for a different face to appear behind your closed eyes.

Just long enough for a memory to whisper through you.

A different voice, a different boy, a different life that never got the chance to exist. You tune it out like you always do, locking it away.

---

The drive to Sarah’s house is filled with laughter and music, the soft hum of the radio blending with Lily’s endless chatter from the backseat.

“And then, Mommy, guess what?!” Lily gasps, her little legs kicking excitedly against the booster seat.

You glance at her in the rearview mirror, smiling at how animated she is, her wide eyes glowing in the golden evening light. “What, baby?”

“I painted a unicorn! But Miss Martinez said it looked like a cow, and I said ‘No, it’s magic,’ and then, and then, Maddie spilled her juice, but it was okay ‘cause I shared my napkin—”

“Wow,” Steve cuts in, turning slightly in his seat to look at her. “So not only are you an artist, but you’re also a hero? That’s a big day, Lil’.”

She beams, her dimpled cheeks puffing up with pride. “I am a hero!”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull into Sarah’s driveway. These are the moments that feel light, weightless, untouched by the past.

You get out first, opening Lily’s door, and she immediately reaches for you, her small hands wrapping around your hands as you walk to the front door.

“Are you excited for your sleepover with Nana tonight?” you ask her softly.

Lily pouts, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. “But I wanna go with you and Daddy.”

“I know, but we’re just gonna be boring grown-ups for a little while, and you’re gonna have way more fun with Nana.”

Steve ruffles her curls. “And if you’re extra good, she might let you have cookies before bed.”

Lily’s face lights up again, the betrayal instantly forgotten. “Two cookies?”

“You’ll have to negotiate with Nana on that one.”

Sarah appears at the door, arms open wide. “There’s my girl!”

Lily squeals, letting go of your hand and running up the steps. You and Steve exchange a look, fond and full of love, before following after her.

Sarah leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Go have fun. You two deserve a night out.”

The four of you are three drinks in, and everything is light. You're out with Steve and his childhood best friend Wanda, and Clint. Who'd you come to learn over the years was Natasha's best friend.

Clint is mid-story about a truly disastrous work event, Wanda is laughing so hard she has to clutch Steve’s arm for support, and for once, you’re actually having fun.

It’s loud and warm and full of life, the kind of night that should feel untouched by ghosts and for a while, it is.

You lean into Steve’s shoulder as you laugh, genuine, real, the warmth of the alcohol making everything a little softer, a little easier.

The music changes. The opening chords hit like a gut punch, you know this song. Your fingers tighten around your glass, then the lyrics start.

‘I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine, Gotta gotta be down, because I want it all’

It’s your song.

Yours and Bucky’s.

The one you blasted on your road trips. The one you screamed the lyrics to in his car. The one he promised that the two of you would tear down every club in New York when it came on.

The air thickens, the room suddenly too small, too loud, too much.

You push back your chair. “Be right back,” you mumble, voice strained.

Steve looks over at you, confused. “You okay?”

Wanda, ever perceptive, rests a hand on his arm. “She’s probably just going to the bathroom. Give her a sec.”

You don’t stop to hear more, you just walk.

Steve watches you disappear outside, his chest tight, aching, conflicted.

Something in him wants to go after you immediately, but before he can even move, Clint exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“She never really talks about it, huh? Never really came to terms with it?”

Steve turns to him, his expression unreadable, but Wanda stiffens slightly, already sensing the tension that’s about to unfold.

Steve is quiet for a long moment before he finally says, “I spoke to my therapist about it.”

Wanda and Clint both turn to him, waiting.

“He said that losing someone is harder when it’s not final.”

Clint scoffs. “But it is final. It’s been, what, six, seven years? That’s what you said, right?”

Steve’s jaw tightens.

“No.” His voice is low, even. “You don’t get it. There was never a body.”

The table goes silent.

Wanda’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

Steve shifts slightly, uneasy. “I really shouldn’t talk about this. It’s not my story to tell.”

“But?” Wanda presses gently.

Steve exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Bucky wasn’t just killed in action. He went missing. They never found anything. Not his body, not his dog tags. Nothing.”

Wanda’s lips part slightly, her expression softening.

“That kind of loss… it doesn’t feel real,” Steve continues, voice quiet but heavy. “And it doesn’t help that they fought before he left. That she never got to say goodbye.”

Clint sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. I get it, I do. But dealing with her loss isn’t good for your loss.”

Steve’s brows pull together. “What does that mean?”

Clint leans forward, leveling him with a pointed, sharp look. “What I mean is you’re playing house with somebody else who will never be Nat.”

The words hit like a gut punch.

Steve’s expression darkens instantly. “Watch it,” he warns, his voice low, dangerous.

Clint shrugs, unfazed. “I’m just saying, man. You sit here talking about her grief, but what about yours? Huh? You think Natasha would want this for you?”

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Steve snaps, his entire body tensing, a fire burning behind his eyes now.

Clint’s jaw flexes, but his tone stays cool. “You loved her. I get it. But Y/N? She’s never gonna be able to give you what you had with Nat. She’s always gonna have one foot in the past, Steve. And you’re always gonna know that.”

Steve leans forward, his voice deadly quiet now.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says, his knuckles white against the table. “You think I don’t wake up every day missing her? You think I don’t look at Lily and see what she lost? That I don’t feel it every time I think about what Natasha should have had? But I didn’t get a choice, Clint. None of us did.”

Clint opens his mouth, but Steve cuts him off.

“And don’t you dare sit there and act like you know what’s best for me. You don’t get to judge how I moved forward. You don’t get to act like you wouldn’t have done the same damn thing if it had been me instead of her.”

Clint’s face hardens.

The two of them stare each other down for a long moment, the weight of grief and loss and love unspoken pressing between them.

Then, finally, Wanda sighs.

“That’s enough,” she says softly. “All of it.”

Steve shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he pushes back from the table.

“I’m gonna go check on her.”

The air outside is cool and crisp, the distant hum of the city filling the quiet.

Steve finds you standing near the curb, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

You don’t turn when he approaches, but he knows you hear him.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know.”You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “It’s so stupid. They were just playing our song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “That’s not stupid.” Steve steps beside you, his hands tucking into his pockets.

You swallow hard, your throat tight, aching.

“I should be happy, right?” you whisper.

Steve watches you, his chest tightening. “There’s no right way to feel about this, sweetheart.”

Your throat tightens, your hands clenching at your sides. “What’s wrong with me, Steve? Why can’t I get over this? Why can’t I be like you?”

Steve freezes, caught off guard. “Like me?”

“You moved on. You let yourself be happy. I don’t—” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know what to do.”

Your jaw trembles slightly, but you shake your head.

“I just… I thought I was finally getting better. I thought I was moving on. But now? It’s like, I don’t know how to exist in this moment. I don’t know who I am if I don’t have to grieve him anymore.”

Steve exhales, looking up at the sky for a long moment before finally saying, “I still mourn her, you know.”

You turn to him then, finally meeting his gaze.

“I will mourn Natasha for the rest of my life,” he admits, his voice thick with something raw. “And it hurts every time I look at Lily. Every time I think about what she lost. What she’ll never have with her Mother.”

Your breath catches.

“And yeah,” Steve continues, voice quieter now, “she gained something incredible. She got you and I will never take that for granted. But that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t still there, it doesn’t mean I’ll ever truly move on from that and that's okay, I don’t have to.”

You stare at him, your heart aching for him, for Lily, for all of it.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” Steve says gently. “I just, I need you to know that this isn’t something you just get over. It’s not something you just let go of. But that doesn’t mean you don’t keep living.”

You swallow hard, your vision blurring slightly.

“How?” you whisper.“ Tell me what to do, Steve!” Your voice rises, desperate and breaking apart at the seams. “Tell me how to stop feeling like I’m drowning. I need to know, please, I need to know.” Your breath is ragged, uneven, frantic.

“I exist with it, I’m happy I got to know her, I’m grateful I got the chance to be loved by her and to love her.” He pulls you into his arms. “I think you need to talk to someone again.”

You press your face into his chest, your shoulders shaking.

“I think you need to let yourself heal.”

Steve watches you for a long moment before finally reaching for your hand, his fingers warm, steady, unwavering.

“One day at a time.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x steve #steve rogers x reader

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inawickedlittletown · 1 year ago

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I’m kinda a little obsessed with how we begin at the end of the dinner portion of the date. Buck and Tommy have gone through this whole dinner…they’re on their second pitcher of beer and already have the check. And after all that it’s only when they come to the end that Tommy points out that Buck is a bit tense.

Is it that they’re at the end of dinner and Buck is suddenly aware of the world around them again…because Tommy would have probably mentioned something before right? Is it that Tommy paying has suddenly made Buck aware they are actually on a date? But we can sort of assume that until that point maybe there had been some nervous energy but it had been going well. And now he feels like there are people watching him. It's just so interesting how they decided to write this.

Buck's word salad...his confusion is just so Buck, but Tommy doesn't know him well enough to realize that. It's literally Buck processing and if Eddie hadn't walked in as a literal representation of Buck being perceived, Tommy and Buck probably would have had a productive conversation.

And I'm glad that it didn't all go well. That Tommy got to see that Buck is really still struggling through his discovery of who he is...like yeah he throws that dig at Buck about closets, but also Tommy does understand where Buck is and maybe he's seeing a bit of what Tommy himself went through.

The thing that this does allow is Buck to have some time. Tommy's right, Buck isn't ready. He's freaking out...not about Tommy, but about his very identity. What Buck is, is honest. He's not someone that hides anything from his friends and family. It's hard for him to lie to Eddie and we see that immediately when he goes to talk to Maddie because that's the type of thing that matters to Buck. He's also kinda going crazy thinking about Tommy.

They're handling Buck's story so well. And I love that Tommy cuts their date short without putting any blame on Buck, and that he leaves it to Buck to reach out. His interest is known...he doesn't leave Buck before telling him he's adorable and that he'll see him and we the audience are left waiting for Tommy to come back within the scope of this episode.

And I can't help but think about how if Tommy only allowed himself to be himself after he left the 118, he's only been out about as long as the show has been on and six years going on seven isn't a long time in the scheme of things. It also does this amazing thing to show the contrast between Tommy and Buck because Tommy knew he liked guys long before he acted on it/admitted it. Buck had no clue. Tommy hid it, he lied. Buck can't do that, it's not in him to be dishonest, and it's a true struggle for him.

Buck talking to Eddie about it and coming out to him...it's so beautiful. I love that scene but in the context of Buck and Tommy there's so much in Eddie's support of them and his push for Buck to reach out to Tommy. Eddie has Buck's back no matter what and it's exactly what Buck needed. Not just the support of his best friend, but the truth telling. It's a weight lifted off his shoulders, and not just that but he has advice on how to move forward too.

I would have loved to see Buck trying to figure out what to say to Tommy when he calls him, but what I love is that Tommy is willing to see Buck. There's something so careful about the way that Tommy acts when he arrives at the coffee date. Obviously he's showing up because he's interested in Buck...but he also probably had no idea what was going to happen. He certainly did not expect Buck to ask him to be his date at the wedding. And then Buck places his hand over Tommy's and Tommy puts his hand over Buck's and Buck doesn't care if anyone sees.

I love this show. I love the care being put into this story.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #spoilers #911 meta #evan buckley #tommy kinard #meta #I have so many feelings about this episode #this was supposed to be like tiny text post but it spiraled

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redrosydiaz · 3 months ago

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okay but chimney 100% is a die hard is a christmas movie truther. he is so enthusiastic about the fact and would absolutely be the kind of guy to have like a full on powerpoint of reasons why it is a Classic Christmas Movie and would genuinely get really into trying to convince people who think otherwise that it is.

hen, on the other hand, is firmly in the no way no it's not a christmas movie, just because it takes place during christmas and there's a christmas tree does not mean it's a christmas movie.

i think bobby would be pretty neutral, honestly. he can see both sides of the argument and will lean towards whichever depending on who he's with.

eddie, like chimney, is a die hard is a christmas movie truther. he's not like as serious about it as chimney is lol but it is a christmas eve tradition for him to, once christopher has gone down for the night, make a dent in the cookies and milk christopher left out for santa while watching die hard. (he's seen it enough that he can quote it.)

buck has not actually seen die hard — which chimney is. absolutely gobsmacked to learn. (maddie also has not seen it, and chimney makes it his Personal Mission to indoctrinate her.) buck ends up getting roped into watching it with eddie, and after, he too joins the ranks of die hard is a christmas movie truthing. (no, it doesn't not have anything to do with the fact that eddie loves it and thinks so and adorably mouths along to the lines as he watches — well, not entirely anyways.)

#911 #the 118 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #chimney han #henrietta wilson #bobby nash

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ninikrumbs · 11 months ago

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Sweets or my sweet?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You were baking cupcakes but Bucky has other ideas with the batter.

Warnings: Bucky barnes (he is a warning), Fluff, slight nsfw, implied smut. 18+

Comment if I should write a part 2 😏 (iykyk) Also this in unedited so im sorry for the mistakes.

"Okay, this looks right!" I beamed, as I finally turned off the mixer. The smell of chocolate wafted throught the air after our baking session.

Spontaneously deciding to bake chocolate cupcakes were suprisingly a good idea.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, one warm and one cold. While a strong chin rested on my shoulder, his light stubble brushing my cheek; making me giggle.

"Smells good, doll." Bucky commended, his deep, husky voice tickled my ear earning a light shiver from me.

I grabbed the spatula and leaned it towards his mouth. "Here, have a taste."

"Won't t that make me sick?"

I arched an eyebrow before saying, "I thought super soldiers dont get sick?"

"Touché."

He leaned in towards the spatula and took a small lick of the the batter. His throat bobbed as he swallwed it. "Wow, that is good."

His compliment made me grin in delight."I know right!"

I was about to start putting them into cupcake holders, before I noticed a small fleck of chocolate batter on the lower left side of Bucky's lips. Cometpalting to leave it there for others to see, but deciding againts it since he was such a good sous pastry chef today.

Turning in his arms to face him, "Buck, theres a bit of chocolate on you lips." I said, touching to my own lips, trying to show him where it was.

"Really, where?" I thought he was gonna use his hands to remove it, but he suddenly just started darting out his toungue in a silly effort to remove it.

"Is it gone?"

"No.." I said, covering my mouth with my hand, stifling a laugh.

He looked so ridiculous, his tongue has licked every side other than the place that actually has the stain. You'd think he was doing it on purpose. "Okay, stop stoop! I got it."

His lips formed into an adorable pout before leaning his face closer to me, warm breath hitting my face. I quickly glanced at him to see that he was watching me like a hawk. And it made such a simple mundane thing feel more intimate which made me purse my lips as my cheeks felt a bit warm.

Since the chocolate was already a little dry, I licked my thumb before gently swiping on his lower lip, effortlessly removing the chocolate. "There! that was-"

Before I could wipe my thumb somewhere, Bucky held my thumb in place with his metal hand as he sucked on it. I could feel his tongue going over my skin and it felt like my entire body was on fire. I inhaled a sharp breath, not sure whether to pull hand away or let him lick some other places that were currently callimg out his name.

He let out a satisfied groan, the sound echoing through my body. "If tasted good before, now its a fucking 5 star michelin restaurant."

His mouth lets go of my thumb with a pop as his steel blue eyes gazed at me with such a predatory gleam, it should make me feel terrified, instead it makes me rub my thighs together. Already feeling the wetness pool between them.

Strongs hands carresed up and down my waist to the curve of my hips, til it gave my ass a light squeeze that made me squeal.

He continued carresing my ass before he dipped his 2 fingers, one from each hand into my covered core, making me clutch on tightly to his biceps.

"I see my favorite meal is already ready for me." He whispered huskily into my ear.

"Bucky.. not here." I whimpered

A smug smile formed om Buckys face at my reaction. He grabbed the bowl of cupcake batter behind me and pulled me by the hand as he says, "Now lets go eat dessert with my favorite meal."

PART 2??

#avengers #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #love #bucky smut #smut #marvel

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schrijverr · 4 months ago

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Just curious, what do you think about the season 8b speculation that Buck is going to be kidnapped in addition to or instead of Maddie? I'm semi conflicted personally because I so want to see a Maddie lead storyline but don't want to see a pregnant woman get kidnapped idk

I'm pretty conflicted about it as well, because I love a good Buck getting hurt story line and I love him as a character, so seeing him go through that (especially with those people theorizing no one notices he's missing) would be delicious angst.

And I do also think it would suck if it was Maddie, because not only has she been kidnapped before, she currently has a happy storyline going for her for a change, so I'd hate if they forced her into this again, especially if the focus isn't going to be on her and what it means for her, but reactions to it, specifically Buck's.

However, it's that last bit that has me kind of ugh about it, because ever since moving to ABC the show has gotten more Buck-centric. Now, I love Buck - gestures vaguely at all my fics about him - but what makes 9-1-1 so fun to me is that it's an ensemble cast show. I personally adore Hen and Athena (out of the uniform) and Eddie is actually my favorite character, and Chimney and Bobby are very fun. So, seeing them get pushed to the background for Buck doesn't sit right to me.

If they do go the Buck gets kidnapped route and it's going to mostly focus on Buck, I'm a little worried for the future of the show, because I don't want it to be the Buck & co. show, I want it to be the 118 show. However, I'm down for it if they handle it well. Like, if they want to start the buddie route and focus on Eddie's reaction specifically, then it would serve a purpose, or if it was to kick start Buck's no one will care about me spiral (though both can be achieved by kidnapping Maddie, since Eddie can be in Texas so hate to not be there for Buck this time to get his head on straight causing him to spiral, or it can be Buck losing it bc Chris is gone, Eddie will leave and now he might not get Maddie back, so...)

If they go the Maddie gets kidnapped route, it better have a focus on her and what it means for her character to get kidnapped again, while pregnant and a mother, when she specifically never had kids with Doug, because she didn't feel safe. As well as Chimney breaking down, because he went through hell to get Maddie back during her post-partum depression and they had this whole discussion about how scared he was to do it without her and now he might be losing her. Of course Buck is going to feature heavily in this too, because it's his sister and he already lost her to this very thing before, but I would want it to have space for all the emotional reactions, not just his.

I saw someone theorize that they get kidnapped together, which would be fun, since that person mentioned having Chimney's and Eddie's reactions to it parallel, which could be buddie arc start. And I think it could be fun to see with Buck wanting to sacrifice himself for Maddie, because she's pregnant and has a family at home, while he has nothing anymore, which ties into his spiral that will start that is being mentioned in interviews. Plus, you can have Maddie who will always be his protector first, suddenly have to deal with wanting to sacrifice herself, but now having so much to lose and can she do that to Jee-Yun? To Chimney? As well as having the team collectively lose their minds because their Buckleys have been taken.

Anyway, this is a large ramble that doesn't really answer much, but I think in the end, it can be interesting if it's Buck, but I would prefer it not to be unless well executed and a part of me doesn't see that arc getting executed well. Though I also don't like the fact that Maddie is getting kidnapped to begin with. However, I know the fics are gonna be great regardless in this fandom, so I'm clinging to that lmao

#rr ask #hope this wasnt too confusing and actually what you were hoping for #thank you for the ask!!!#9-1-1 #911 spoilers #911 season 8 #911 speculation #9 1 1 season 8 #911 8x09 #evan buckley #maddie buckley #the buckley siblings #911 show #9 1 1 show #madney #chimney han #eddie diaz #buddie

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thatmexisaurusrex · 9 months ago

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Prompt: Tommy meets Evan's three chaotic roommates, who are also named Evan

(Based off the fact that Buck knew three other Evans at the Academy and the idea that they're all roommates, just because I think it would be funny)

send me headcanons and microfic prompts

Okay, I kind of love this and might expand this into an entire fic at some point. But this is an AU where Tommy never left the 118 and meets Buck for the first time as a probie.

Four Evans

Tommy wasn't sure what he had expected when Evan said at the bar, "Okay. Okay, so this might get a little confusing, but I have three other roommates and they're all named Evan."

Tommy hadn't really thought much about it when Evan had pushed him into a wall and made out with him. Possibly because he barely had a brain cell to think with at that moment.

But as Tommy said, fuck it, and decided, okay, he would actually go home with the probie tonight, he hadn't really thought much about what four guys sharing a condo would entail.

That it wasn't already a terrible idea to go home with new guy Evan "Buck" Buckley.

It felt like a frat house.

Not that Tommy knew what a frat house looked like, he hadn't gone to college, but this was what he assumed it looked like.

Mess everywhere.

A strange smell to the whole place; a little like old milk.

And three guys sitting on beanbags that looked to be picked up from the side of the road, all playing the latest Call of Duty or something.

They all.

Narrowed in.

On Tommy and Evan.

And.

Stared.

Suddenly, Evan tensed. As if this was his first time.

Shit.

It was, wasn't it?

As if Evan hadn't prepared for this or even thought about what could happen in this scenario. And, hell, it wasn't as if Tommy hadn't just recently come out as gay to the entire 118. It wasn't as if this wasn't all new to him too.

One of the Evans, the Evan on the farthest side of the room with the curtained boyband look to him, said, "I thought we said we weren't allowed to bring company."

The one in the middle, the one with the crew cut that screamed, my parents will hear about this, said, "Yeah, only on party Fridays, bro."

The one closest to them, the one with the short twists, took in Tommy and announced, "He's kind of hot."

Which.

Surprised the other two Evans.

"What?" said the one with the twists, shrugging, "He is."

And faster than Tommy had ever seen someone shed any panic over his sexuality with a group of guys his peers, Tommy's Evan, the Evan holding Tommy's hand, blurted, "He's mine, Jemisin!"

Before.

Before dragging Tommy up the stairs.

And.

And Tommy couldn't help but laugh at that.

"What?" grumbled Evan as Evan pulled Tommy into the only fucking clean room in the trashed condo.

"Nothing, it's just - it's just you're so adorable," said Tommy, unable to stop himself from smiling so wide that his nose crinkled.

And.

And Evan seemed so enamored with Tommy's smile, somehow.

Tommy's smile.

"You're the adorable one," said Evan, all timber and want, pushing Tommy onto his bed and crawling atop him.

And okay.

This wasn't a mistake.

This couldn't be a mistake. Not with how Evan's thighs felt as they bracketed Tommy; not with how Evan's lips felt as Evan leaned down to give Tommy another mindblowing kiss.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy microfic #tevan #kinley #the ally and the beast #my fics #Four Evans #asks

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bugs1nmybrain · 1 year ago

Text

Crusty Kitty~Neko!Shigaraki x Reader Smut 🩵✨️

Notes: I hate myself

Summary: Tomura and his girlfriend end up in quite the predicament after a job gone wrong.

Reader is Described as: having fluffy hair, curvy body, short, female, she/her pronouns, reader wears a skirt, grey/black colored ears and tail.

Warnings: Explicit pet play, 18+ (MDNI), fem reader, breeding, kitty boy Shigaraki AND kitty girl reader, BITING, furry themes?, biting, unprotected sex, dom Shigaraki, unapologetically horny and clingy Tomura, titty sucking, reader is resistant to Tomura's quirk, mention of murder, cringe use of "nya" and other variations of it, mommy kink, cunnilingus, Tomura has white ears and tail, Tomura calls reader a slut, season 5ish Shigaraki (blue hair), shiggy has a noncon-ish thought at one point but the sex itself is entirely consensual, not proofread yet

Fuuuuck...

This was bad.

It wasn't uncommon for Tomura and his crew to run into some people with crazy quirks. Sometimes they'd do the strangest things to their bodies. This one though, it was about to kill Tomura. His newfound tail would not stop wagging and curling itself around his leg, trying his hardest from not grabbing you as you stood in front of him, brushing your hair.

Yesterday, you and Tomura had gone to a little interview to see if this mid-level criminal you two had heard of was willing to join the League. They were well-known in the underworld and had great connections. Tomura hoped to have gotten something good out of the encounter, but he soon discovered what he usually did. Another tryhard who was looking to steal his spot as the ruler of all things evil. So, there was a little tastle, to say the least.

In attempt to protect you, Shigaraki had gone after the villain with physical force. Before he knew it, you and he had been sprayed with some nasty smelling odor, left coughing up a storm. Tomura had managed to snatch ahold of the cocksucker, crumbling him away.

"Achew!" perfumes or anything like that always made Tomura's sinuses act up. "Good riddance. Let's go."

The next morning, you and him woke up to a surprise.

Both of you were decorated in ears, tails, claws, fangs, the whole nine yards. You still looked like people, but...catlike. Like a neko that you'd see in hentai. Tomura couldn't begin to describe the shock that washed over him when he saw you laying next to him with greyish-black ears and a tail of the same color. At first he thought it was just you, but when he felt something fuzzy hit the black of his legs, an instant "oh no" shot through his thoughts.

You two tried acting as if everything was still the same. Okay, so you guys were like this. Didn't mean that operations had to cease, right? Even though the looks that the League gave Tomura made him want to knock each one of them on their asses.

Ujiko said that the effects of the quirk should wear off in maybe a week. That's a long time to have these fuzzy ears and stupid fucking fangs that bit Tomura's tongue when he was least expecting it. Oh yea, his tongue was rough now too. What the fuck.

You. Were NOT helping. Actually, you were adorable. He'd watch as your tail would swerve along around your ass and when your ears would perk up when he asked you a question. Your figure was as breedable as it always was, but something about having the accents of catlike features made him leak. He could smell you now, too. This kitty boy transformation was embarrassing. Not only because of the way he looked but also because he was unbearably horny.

Tomura was horny as fuck already, but this little predicament had him fidgeting so bad and sweating as he looked at you. Your breasts seemed fuller than normal, and your ass was always bucking outwards. You must've been feeling it, too, huh?

It didn't really occur to him that you were both young adults, at prime "mating" time. And it wasn't like you and him were going to get spayed or neutered. It was also super convenient that this had happened right as you were at a high chance of pregnancy within your reproductive cycle. If that didn't make you horny enough, you sure as hell were now.

He watched you brush your fluffy hair, trying to avoid hurting your ears. He wondered if you'd tingle if he touched them. "Let's see..." he thought.

When Tomura stepped toward you, his tail immediately started wagging eagerly. Your eyes darted at him and you noticed how much taller he was than you, making you tingle. You wanted him to dominate you so bad.

"Do you know how bad your cunt smells right now?" Tomura husks, nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in your lady musk and grinds his groin against your back.

"I'm sorry..nyuahh..."

"Are you serious? Hehehe!"

"Sorry!"

"Shhh..mmm...back your ass up again..."

So you did. You rubbed your ass up on his crotch, tail flicking in his face. God, you made him throb so baaad. You looked up to his face while you coated the crotch of his pants in your soaked cunt, seeing his dilated red eyes that screamed "I'm gonna breed you so bad."

"You're such a sexy kittyyy,,,nyah.." he teased. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the way he rutted against you gave you the impression that he was yearning. He teased his fingers on your ears, scratching behind them while you mewled. The way you reacted made him snicker. He bit your neck without warning, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Mmm! Tomuraawwhh~ what are you doing??

"I need you mommy...let me fill you with my kittens..nnyeow..."

Your cunt arched back on instinct. Tomura hiked up your skirt, showcasing your ass and cunt. It was dripping wet, begging for him to stuff you. He swore he could even see your clit twitch. Oh he wanted to fuck you silly, but he'd feel bad leaving you hanging. And he always got so sleepy after he came, and his catboy transformation made him need naps all the time. His white tail raised up as his cock leaked more at the thought of tasting your pussy.

"Get in bed," he commanded. Without hesitation, you nodded vigorously with a beaming "mhm!" and got in bed. You lie down on your back with your legs spread. You still had panties, but they were perfectly drenched, and there was glossy fluid glazing your thighs. Tomura took their handles and yanked them down, admiring the sight your puffy clit.

It didn't take any time before his mouth was latched onto your hot, wet cunt. Your smell was driving him feral, making his cock leak and twitch with vigor.

"Nyaahh...~!" you screamed. Your cunt was insanely sensitive and Tomura's rough tongue was relentless on your clit. The texture against your cunt drove you crazy as you rolled your hips. But Tomura held your thighs and devoured you, determined to have you cumming in minutes. You went to tug at his thick blue locks, petting his white ears as you did so. His teeth clamped down, though he tried to keep his mouth away from your pussy as he did. Even he respected that a bite to your pussy wouldn't feel very nice.

He mixed in some finger action, too, though he hadn't even thought that his claws may hurt you. He scratched your thighs gently while he continued attacking your cunt with his mouth. He looked up, seeing how full your tits looked underneath your tight tanktop. "Change of plans", he thought.

Tomura came up to your neck, licking and covering you in love bites while he pulled your shirt below your tits. Your nipples were flushed and incredibly sensitive, as you trembled at the slightest touch of his fingers. He cackles a bit and then latches his mouth onto your breast, sucking as if he was feeding on you. He made sure to rub your clit while he did it, hoping to have you cumming while he sucked your titties.

Bingo. With just a few precise motions and his rough mouth, you spasmed on his fingers and cried out in agonizing arousal, creating the most animal-like noises. Fuckkk...

"MMww...Tomuraahh~"

"Ehehehh..what is it? Does my kitty slut need to be stuffed..rrr~..."

He was purring! fhzjdijfas

"Mhm!"

"C'mere, then..."

Tomura manhandled you and flipped you onto your stomach. The sight of your supple ass made him buck, freeing his cock from his painfully tight jeans. His cock was pulsing and almost red from how pent up and horny he was, tip leaking with plenty of pre. He slapped his cock over your hole a couple of times and then proceeded to sink himself inside of you deeply.

"Awh!~"

FUckk...was he drooling? Your pussy felt SOOO wet and hotter than the Sahara. And yet, you were still suffocating him and unbearably tight. He plunged his cock in and out of you, making you scream underneath him. You sounded so gooey and wet and his cock kept thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, and the added bonus of his hips smacking against your ass made it evident to the whole League that you were getting a good serving of Shigaraki right now.

Your mouth hung open for your cute fangs to show. Tomura shoved his fingers into your mouth, feeling around your sandpaper tongue. You bite his finger on accident, making him shout.

"OW! You bitch!"

He wasn't mad, though. He just cackled and growled to himself with his sore finger rubbing your lips as he pounded your cunt relentlessly. You were so small underneath him, making his dominant instincts fuck you even rougher, knowing that if you wanted to leave he had all the power to keep you under him. Your pussy fluids were leaking your your thighs onto the sheets. Fuck, you two smelled AWFUL, too. "This will need much needed cleanup," Tomura thought.

"Mmm!~ Nywah~ you love my kitty cock filling you up, huh??~"

"Yeaaawh~"

He sounded just as loud as you right now, crying and mewling out and in desperate need to pump you full of his cum. He bit your sensitive ear while he tugged on your tail, causing your ass to lift higher. His cock shoved itself into your core repeatedly and his balls slapped your ass. He bruised your cervix while he rammed you and he was going to cum soon, you could tell by how rough he was getting.

"T-rr-t-tomura!"

He didn't respond with words, instead driving himself in your body a few more times before eventually slamming deep into your cunt with a final yowling groan...Tomura rocked his cock into you even after he came, his sensitive cock aching terribly. When he pulled out he watched as his cum dripped out of your cunt, making him cry.

"Rrrr-hr-hrrr....mawhmmmy~"

"Mmm?"

"I loveee yew~"

"Eheheee...really??"

"rrrr..yeaa. Cuddle me."

It wasn't a request, but rather a demand, as Tomura wrapped his arms around you and practically trapped you in his grasp. He purred in your ear while he smothered you in his embrace, nipping at your ear and neck.

"Hey!"

"Mhmhm what?"

"That hurts."

"But I love you~" his raspy voice mewls.

"rrrr whatever..."

"Say it back."

"I love yeww Tomura~ you know I do."

What a wild turn of events, he thought. Your smell was still driving him crazy, but now that he made you his little cumdump he was ready to nap, and he wasn't going to allow you to leave. Both you and Tomura drifted off into slumber, purring in each other's arms, snuggled as close as humanly (..) possible.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shiggy x reader #neko shigaraki

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