#do what Bobby taught you

[kiwiplaetzchen]

A-and how does one protect their k-knob?

My dear Anon,

to safeguard your knob, treat it like royalty! Crown it with a trusty helmet, armour it with layers, and no, not layers of love. Remember, a protected knob is a happy knob, and a happy knob makes for a delightful day!

Wrap it up: No, not with a bow, silly! Use a trusty rubber knob (or knob-dom, if you will) to shield it from unwanted, pathetic grabdaddlers (don't confuse it with grabdaddies, honey). Safety first, right?

Dress to Impress: Give your knob a snazzy makeover! Make your knob feel cosy. Think of it as haute couture for your knob – chic AND practical!

And voilà! Your knob is now cosy and secure, ready for any adventure. 😌

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 22

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,430ish

Summary: Logan ruins training in the Danger Room. Hank shows up to announce a possible mutant cure.

Warnings: nightmares, mutant cure, grief

Notes: We're starting X-Men: The Last Stand! Woot Woot!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Though Logan didn’t get every memory back, his nightmares began to show him pieces of wars from long ago. Despite his insistence for your safety, you continued to sleep beside him. It amazed Logan how you seemed to be so prepared for his nightmares. Each time he woke with his claws out, you were already a safe distance away, trying to coax him out of it.

Logan had basically moved into your room now, which let you be available to teasing from many students and faculty. It didn’t matter to either of you though, just that you were together.

It had now been four months since the events of Alkali Lake. You were currently in the Danger Room running a simulation with Storm, Rogue, Ice Man, Kitty, Colossus, and Logan. The students were running around, trying to avoid being shot at by a large robot with Storm flying around. Logan was barely doing anything, not happy to have to be subbing for Scott once again. He found you taking cover behind a car and tried to use the flames on top of the car to light his cigar.

“We’re getting killed out here,” you stated.

“Yeah, I know,” Logan replied. “They’re not ready, Y/N.”

You noticed that the robot was behind you. “Logan.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” You launched yourself at Logan, forcing the two of you to tumble away before you could get stepped on. “That was my last cigar.”

“Really?”

“It’s getting closer!” Rogue exclaimed.

“Come on!” You encouraged. “Let’s keep moving!”

“Hey, Tin Man! Come here!” Logan called to Colossus, who listened. “How’s your throwing arm?” He released his claws.

“Logan, we work as a team.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Throw me. Now!”

“Damn it, Logan! Don’t do this!”

Colossus threw Logan up to the robot, with Logan and the head quickly falling back to the ground. Logan stood up and walked around the head.

“Class dismissed,” he stated. You shook your head, heading towards the doors as the simulation disappeared. “Hey, Colossus, nice throw.”

“What the hell was that?” You were clearly angry as Logan came to walk beside you, the students trailing after you with Storm remaining in the simulation room. 

“Danger Room session.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh, lighten up, Y/N.”

You stopped, turning to him. “You can’t just change the rules when you feel like it. I’m trying to teach them something!”

“I taught ‘em something.”

“It was a defensive exercise.”

“Yeah. Best defense is a good offense. Or is it the other way around?”

“This isn’t a game, Logan.”

“Well, you sure fooled me.”

“Logan—“

“Hey,” he raised his hands in innocence, “I’m just a sub. You got a problem, talk to Scott.”

“Mom and Dad are fighting,” Bobby muttered, causing Rogue and Kitty to giggle.

“Watch it, bub,” Logan growled at the kid.

“Why don’t we let these two lovebirds work it out?” Ororo suggested, coming up to guide the students away.

You and Logan were left in the hall. You sighed, running a hand down your face. Logan began to feel guilty. He knew how hard you were working to train this group of students, running yourself to the ground to try to get them ready for whatever they may be needed for. 

“Hey,” he called softly, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry, ‘kay?” His hands ran down your arms until they could connect with your hands. “I shouldn’t have messed with the simulation.”

“I just wish that you would try a little bit to work as a team,” you admitted. “Even if that means you’re in the simulation just to make sure I’m safe… can you do that?”

“I’ll try,” he nodded. “For you.” He kissed your forehead. You leaned into him further, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. “What else can do for you, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“Ya sure? I know you’ve been a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine.” You leaned back to make sure you could look him in the eye. “I promise.”

“I ain’t buying it, darlin’, not for one second.”

You leaned in, kissing him softly to try to ease his worry. “I’m fine,” you repeated upon pulling away. You knew he still didn’t believe you. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Logan nodded, slipping your hand into his and leading you upstairs. When you reached the main floor, Scott was rushing down the stairs with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Scott,” Logan called, “they were lookin’ for you downstairs. You didn’t show.”

“Logan,” you tried to get him to drop it.

“What do you care?” Scott argued.

“Well, for starters, I had to cover your ass,” Logan responded.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“No, you didn’t. Y/N and the Professor did.”

“Scott, please stop closing us off,” you pled.

“I know how you feel,” Logan continued, ignoring you.

“Don’t,” Scott said.

“When Y/N—“

“I said don’t.”

“Maybe it’s time to move on.”

“Not everybody heals as fast as you, Logan.”

“Scott!” You called after him as he stormed off. You tried to follow him, but Logan stopped you.

“Let him go,” he told you.

“I’m so worried about him, Logan.”

“I know, but you can’t help him right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that once you start being honest with the fact that something is going on with you, then you can help Scott.”

You clenched your jaw, annoyed at Logan. But you knew that he had a point. You had been struggling with a feeling that something was coming on the horizon. You didn’t want to worry Logan, so you hadn’t said anything. Clearly, Logan was more in tune with you than you thought.

“I’m going to go change and get ready for my next class,” you said, pulling away from Logan.

“Y/N…” He tried to grab your wrist, but you hurried up the stairs. He shook his head, growing frustrated that you were pulling away from him.

~~~

Charles summoned you to his office, where he and Ororo were already. As soon as you arrived, a large smile took over your face.

“Hank!” You exclaimed upon seeing his blue hair.

“Y/N!” He greeted you, meeting you for a hug.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.” You could see that something more was going on. “Thank you all for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Henry, you are always welcome here,” Charles stated. “You’re a part of this place.”

“I have news.”

“Is it Erik?”

“No. Though we have been making some progress on that front. Mystique was recently apprehended.”

“Who’s the fur ball?” Logan asked, leaning against the office doorway.

“Hank McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs.”

“Right, right.” Logan pushed off the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets as he came over next to you. “The secretary. Nice suit.”

“Henry, this is Logan. He’s, uh—“

“Wolverine,” Hank interrupted Charles. “I hear you’re quite an animal.”

“Look who’s talkin’,” Logan commented. 

“You know Magneto’s gonna come get Mystique, right?” You said.

“Magneto’s not the problem. At least not our most pressing one,” Hank said. “A major pharmaceutical company has developed a mutant antibody—a way to suppress the mutant ‘X’ gene.”

“Suppress?”

“Permanently. They’re calling it a cure.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Ororo scoffed. “You can’t cure being a mutant.”

“Well, scientifically speaking—“

“Since when did we become a disease? How can anybody in their right—“

“Storm,” Charles stopped the woman. “They’re announcing it now.”

“Who would want this cure? I mean, what kind of coward would take it just to fit in?”

“Is it cowardice to save oneself from persecution?” Hank questioned. “Not all of us can fit in so easily. You don’t shed on the furniture.”

“Well, for all we know, the government helped cook this up,” Logan said, not trusting the thought of a cure.

“I can assure you the government had nothing to do with this.”

“Well, I’ve heard that before.”

“My boy, I have been fighting for mutant rights since before you had claws.”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped you. You quickly covered your mouth.

Logan looked at you, unamused, and pointed at Hank. “Did he just call me ‘boy’?” He asked.

“Is it true?” Rogue asked, rushing in. “They can sure us?”

“Yes, Rogue,” Charles responded. “It appears to be true.”

“No, Professor,” Ororo cut in, standing up. “They can’t cure us.” She walked over to Rogue. “You want to know why? Because there’s nothin’ to cure. Nothing’s wrong with you. Or any of us, for that matter.”

Ororo led Rogue out of the room. You took a seat on the couch with Hank, staring down at your hands. There was a cure out there. How was that going to affect the mutant community? The world?

~~~

Logan had been watching you carefully as you readied yourself for bed. You had been quiet since Hank came with the news about the cure, but he hadn’t wanted to push you to talk if you weren’t ready. Now, he was growing concerned about your silence and the topic of a cure.

“Would you ever take the cure?” Logan suddenly asked.

You stopped your movements in the bathroom and turned to see him leaning against the doorframe. “What? Why would you ask me that?”

“You’re quiet again. I’m worried.”

“It’s not about the cure. Well— yes, okay, it is. But not about me.”

“So you wouldn’t take it?”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s never crossed my mind to be cured… I guess it’s because I’m one of the lucky ones. My mutation isn’t visible in ways that draw attention, and it doesn’t affect my everyday life… like Rogue. What about you?”

“It’s never crossed my mind. Besides, it would probably kill me if I took it. I’ve got mental grafted to my bones.”

You took the few steps necessary to allow you to wrap his arms around his waist. “Don’t ever take it… I don’t think I can handle losing you again.”

“I won’t ever do anything that will take me away from you.” He kissed your forehead. “I promise.”

You sighed, snuggling into him more. “I’m worried about what this cure will do to the mutants… I’m scared that the government will use it against us. They make it seem like we have a choice now, but what if one day they force it upon everyone?”

“I’ll protect you.”

“And I’ll protect you.” The both of you met for a kiss. It was slow and simple, but everything the two of you needed. When you two pulled apart, you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your lips. “I love you.” 

Logan pulled back slightly. You were suddenly terrified that you had messed up. The two of you hadn’t said those words since before Logan lost his memories. What if he wasn’t ready? What if you just ruined your relationship?

Logan’s hands moved to gently hold your face. He could see that you were spiraling and needed to quickly fix it. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You broke out into a smile before practically jumping on top of him and pulling him into another kiss. Logan chuckled into the kiss, moving to hold you so that you wouldn’t slip. He began to move to your bed. He laid down on it, keeping you on top.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Logan repeated. “Let me show you just how much.”

~~~

Logan was wide awake, holding your sleeping form tightly against him. His mind wouldn’t let him rest, so now he was stuck in his own thoughts. He was worried about you and the cure and the nightmares he might encounter. You whined beside him, pulling his attention to you. The hand you had rested on his bare chest slowly began to warm until it was causing a burn.

“Jean,” you mumbled. “Jean.”

“Sweetheart,” he called, trying to guide you out of whatever dream you were having. “Wake up.”

All at once, flames appeared around the end of the bed.

“Jean! No!” You cried out.

Logan sat up, taking you with him. He began to gently shake you. “Honey, wake up.”

The flames grew, threatening to brush against the ceiling. Logan looked around, trying to see if there was a way for him to get off the bed without going through the flames. There wasn’t, so he would give you one more chance to wake before he would go through the flames to get what he needed to calm you and the flames. Logan moved you so that he could grip your shoulders and shake you a little harder.

“Y/N, baby, wake up!”

You gasped, trying to sit up, but Logan’s shoulders kept you down. The flames around the bed died, leaving the room with a smokey air. Your eyes frantically searched the area for danger. 

“Honey,” Logan called. His hands moved to your face to try to focus you. “You’re here. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Jean…” you rasped.

“What about Jean?”

“She died. But I…”

“But what?”

“I could feel her. Inside my brain. Like she was alive.”

“Jean’s gone.”

“It was so real.” Tears welled up in your eyes. “She was in there… controlling my mind.”

Logan nodded. He could tell that you believed that Jean had been inside your mind, and you weren’t one to joke about something like that. But it wasn’t possible. Jean died months ago. Her body was never found in Alkali Lake despite the team’s best efforts. It had broken you to never have a body to bury, no matter how hard you tried to pull off as strong. Jean had been a sister and your best friend. A loss like that wasn’t going to be easy to overcome. So Logan believed that this dream had to be a part of your grief. His thumbs gently rubbed against your cheeks as he continued to hold your head.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” was all Logan could pull together to say.

“I miss her,” the emotions began choking you up.

“I know, sweetheart.” He moved his hands to pull you into him, holding you to his chest before he laid down with you on top of him. “I miss her too.”

Logan held you as you cried about Jean. Eventually, the cries died out, and Logan could tell that you were exhausted.

“Did I… did I almost burn down the room again?” You whispered against him.

“You stopped,” he answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Too tired to move much, you kissed his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, baby.”

next chapter >

[artyandink]

Five-Star

Summary: You’ve been dating Dean Winchester, which is nothing short of a fever dream. A brilliant fever dream. But when you decide to test him on how much he wants you, you don’t get the answer you expected to have.

A/N - Welcome to the Karak Chaii-verse! I had an idea to write Dean with an Indian POC, since I’m one myself. Creds to @zepskies and her brilliant Midnight Espresso-verse, and you should definitely check that out. This is a small drabble that I thought up.

Your family had moved to the US around a year after you were born. That’s because the monsters in India were far more dangerous than in America due to the origination of them from the depths of Indian mythology, such as a rakshasa or arunasura, but you found that here was far more escalated.

At least, you’d found out when you met the Winchesters.

You came from a long line of crazy good Indian hunters, so you were already a great one yourself. Back in India, your parents would pose as part of the CBI, but you had to resort to finding someone who could make you a believable FBI badge once you turned eighteen and got into hunting solo, which was around 1997. There you met Bobby Singer, who hooked you up with what he called the ‘All-American Hunting Kit’, which consisted of an array of fake IDs and a lore book. You were glad your training, done by your dad, was done by the intensity of monsters in India rather than here, otherwise it’d be harder to get by.

On a hunt for a vampire and wraith hybrid in Grant Pass, Oregon, you came across the Winchesters, the shorter of the two having dubbed the hybrid ‘Jefferson Starships’. That man was Dean, and you were taken by his charming, goofy attitude that switched to an attractive sort of intensity when faced with imminent danger. You just didn’t expect ‘imminent danger’ to be the mother of all monsters.

Once your parents had found out that you were hanging out with the Winchesters, who were at the centre of any and all supernatural trouble in America, they sent you a thousand calls telling you to get your ass out of there before you got killed. You being you, you didn’t listen. Not when you knew that you’d get withdrawal symptoms from not seeing the million dollar smile of Dean Winchester, which quickly won you over (and his lips too, which knew damn well what they were doing).

As for Sam, you quickly saw him as your little brother figure, who also helped you manage your unruly hair by recommending the right hair products that you now had stocked up. You’d both nerd over monsters, you’d tell him about all the ones you’d encountered in India while Sam told you stories about all that he and his brother had gone through.

Which was no less than a lot. And you thought India was a harder place to live, by what your parents told you. Here there’s the friggin’ Apocalypse.

Dean was obviously your favourite Winchester. He’d told you he really liked you about two years and a half after you met amid averting eyes and stammered words as he spewed compliment after compliment, standing there in the Bunker’s kitchen like a nervous melon in his grey robe, black shorts with hot dogs on them and black undershirt with fuzzy hair.

You’d cut his nervous ramblings off by pulling him in by the lapel of his robe, lips puckered in surprise as they met yours as the tangy taste of cherry and sweet, buttery pie crust flooded your taste buds and even more so when Dean quickly took control of the kiss, hands tangling in your hair and grabbing at soft curves like his life depended on it.

One thing Dean loved about you was your cooking. Your mom had taught you a wide array of Indian dishes that you could cook, and the moment the first bite of your rajma and rice graced Dean’s mouth, it was hook, line and sinker. You’d taught him how to eat chole bhature, roti and sabzi and which masala was which so he could know what the hell did you put to make him fall for you over and over again.

You were scrolling on your YouTube shorts one day when you came across a video of a woman asking her husband what his favourite snack was to see if he’d say her or not. You didn’t look like the definition of a snack right now, with your unwashed hair tied up in a bun that your mom taught you to do with no hair tie whatsoever in grey sweatpants, Dean’s undershirt and fuzzy mismatched socks, but you decided to try it out anyway as Dean came into the bunker’s living room, approaching you from behind with a delicate yet possessive cup of your chin and a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted in that low voice of his that was effortlessly seductive even when he wasn’t trying, his hand sliding down to comfortingly rub over your chest and shoulder as he passed by. “Doin’ ok?” He sat down beside you, arm around your shoulder as his fingers began to play with your hair, warm green eyes trained on you.

You nodded, setting your phone aside. “Doing alright, yeah.” Then you decided to try out the question. “Dil, what’s your favourite snack?” You called Dean dil sometimes because it meant heart in Hindi, and he had yours.

The question got a chuckle out of him as he jerked his head to the right in amusement. “Awh, sweet girl, that’s hardly fair. I’d say beef jerky, but that new thing you, uh, introduced me to really raised the bar.” His brow furrowed in thought for a moment in contrast to the large grin on his face. “The aloo whatzitsname.”

“Aloo lachha.” You corrected with a giggle, barely holding back the urge to say what the answer was.

“Yeah, that. Or, uh, pie, but that’s a dessert and not a snack. Maybe that rajma stuff, but that’s a meal.” He continued rambling on any and all snacks he’d added to his palette since meeting you, until a bout of laughter from you slowed his roll. “What? What’s so funny, huh?”

“So… your favourite snack isn’t me.” You teased with a smirk, which got the cogs in his head turning. “You failed, sorry, honey.”

The words got a raise of his eyebrow and a slow and subtle roving of his eyes down your body and a bite of his lip. To him, you looked absolutely delicious. Like the best thing at a five star restaurant.

He stood up with a low grunt, facing you before grabbing you by your hips, hoisting you up so fast that you had to wrap your sweatpant-clad legs around his waist with a small shriek. “See, baby, that’s where you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that bordered on reverence and somehow the intention to devour at the same time, which had you moaning already. His tongue slipped into your mouth, briefly getting a taste and giving you the distinct flavour of the aloo chaat you had made for lunch mixed with beer before he pulled back and nipped your bottom lip, groaning at the feeling of your fingers now tugging at his hair.

“You…” Dean paused for a breath and a low chuckle, staring at you hungrily. “You are the whole damn buffet.”

TAGLIST:

@k-slla @hobby27 @supernatural-jackles

[elihermit]

let’s ruin the friendship

— part one

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: 118 throws a party for their station. You started working there 3 months ago and already feel like a part of the family. Buck caught feelings for you, but still need to confess them. How will the weekend end?

word count: 1,5k

author’s note: i’m actually obsessed with this fic🧘🏻‍♀️ hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it

p.s. i see all your requests, i’m in the process of writing them🫧

Malibu. You're sitting by the ocean and looking at the sky. You take a deep breath and feel your lungs fill with sea air, this real sea smell. The wind blows your hair, the warm sand tickles your toes and your head is free of thoughts.

118 decided to make a party for your station and you rented a house in Malibu on the Pacific Ocean. Three days of rest and fun with friends, what could be better?

And you needed it. You've been working at 118 for three months now and it's really a dream job. But because you're still new to this: it's hard, demanding and emotional at times. So getting out of this for a couple of days sounded very tempting.

The whole 118 team received you very warmly. Bobby is the best captain you could ask for. He literally became your second dad, mentor and wise friend. He taught you to take any difficulty as a valuable lesson that will lead you to a better version of yourself. Hen, Chimney and Eddie have become a resource of light. You never thought that colleagues at work could become family, but they showed you this. They are always happy to see you in their homes, put a smile on your face every shift and support you when something gets too much.

And Buck. You chuckled and admitted that you fell for him. You're not usually the type to get attached to people quickly. Honestly, you don't even know if you ever really loved. And it was Evan who made you feel things you'd never felt before. Butterflies in your stomach, counting the minutes before your shift starts to see him, “accidental” touches, stolen glances and a blush on your cheeks when he compliments you.

You looked up at the sky once more, where the stars were shining. Your dress was covered in sand, but you didn't care, because it was those moments that gave you a sense of carelessness. You were the very first to arrive at the house that you all rented and realized that this was a great opportunity to be alone with yourself. It was just you and the ocean.

“You're early as always.” — of course it was Buck. You chuckled to yourself and weren't even surprised that it was him. It's like he always appears when you think about him.

“Yeah, I didn't really calculate the time right and got here without traffic jams.”

You felt Buck sit down next to you on the sand and you both looked out into the boundless ocean.

“Aren't you afraid to get your pants dirty?”

“I wouldn't have become a firefighter if I was afraid of that. Plus, I'm willing to get my pants dirty if it means sitting in peace and quiet next to you.”

The next day went better than you imagined. You were all swimming, barbecuing, making cocktails, chatting and laughing a lot. Adults, but behaved like children, and this is exactly what everyone needed — to forget about adult responsibilities for a while and give themselves up to impulsive desires.

The day was nearing sunset and you split up. Men were playing volleyball, women were sitting by the pool with glasses of wine.

“If such a weekend becomes a tradition at your station, then I will have to change my place of work.” — Karen said and sipped her wine.

“Oh honey, we don’t have to. We are the wives of firefighters, we will always have the privilege for such parties.” — Athena said, doing a little dance.

Everyone laughed and agreed with this statement. You adored the women around you: strong, beautiful, and knowing how to have fun, even working such hard jobs.

“So (Y/N), any plans on making this official?” — Hen raised her eyebrows, pointing at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on girl, we all see how you and Buck literally devour each other with eyes.”

“We’re just friends.”

You close your eyes, pull on your sunglasses and lie down on a beach chair. You do everything so that no one sees how your cheeks started to turn red.

“Yeah, I'm sure that friends dance in each other's arms, go to places for couples in the evenings and make local jokes that no one else understands.” — Maddie came back to the pool and put another cocktail in front of you. “It’s from Buck by the way, he said he made it just how you like it.” — she highlighted the last words and looked at you meaningfully before laughing.

“Okay you all, I don't recall using the services of a matchmaker, so I’m going to swim.” — you said, standing from your beach chair. “Anyone wants to go with me?”

“Hell yeah.”

You hear Buck's voice behind you and turn to him.

“Where did you come from?”

“I was on my way to grab some water, but swimming sounds more tempting.”

You took a towel and you went for a swim together.

“Okay, guys, I'm taking bets on whether they kiss now or not.” — Hen had a feeling that after this swim there will be one more couple on their station.

You and Evan came to the ocean and stopped at the shore. You have a feeling of deja vu, because exactly 24 hours ago you were sitting in the same place. The sun was almost below the horizon, it was getting darker and you liked it, there was always something magical about swimming at night.

“I would very much appreciate it if you stayed by my side, because rescuing you wasn’t on my bucket list today.”

“Then you’ll have to catch me, Buckley.”

You didn't wait a second and ran into the water. The warm water caressed your body, the sounds of the waves stupefied your head, the lowering sun left tempting reflections on your body.

You began to swim slowly and enjoy how the water relaxes your muscles and the taste of salt envelops your lips. In a second you were in strong hands.

“Got ya.” — Buck's warm breath was on your ear and reflexively you wrapped your legs around his torso.

“I don't think you gave me a chance to break away from you.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“How is it fair then?”

“It’s not, but it’s also unfair how you try to slide away from me every time.”

You looked into Evan's eyes and froze. You never tried to run away from him, you just didn't know if your feelings were mutual. And confessing your feelings is like going through fire for you, even though you do it almost every day. And it's still dangerous and scary.

His lips were two centimeters from yours and you fought with every part of your body not to succumb to temptation.

“I was just waiting for you to stop me from running away.”

“Let’s ruin the friendship.”

And he kissed you. A thousand fireworks exploded in your chest and your heart started pounding faster. You ran your hands through his hair, and he pulled you closer to him. You have to say that there was nothing innocent about that kiss. But it wasn't lust either. It was sensual, intimate, mixed with a long desire to be with each other.

You parted your lips and let his tongue enter inside, dancing with your tongue in unison. Buck put his hands on your hips and squeezed them, a soft moan escaped from your lips. Desire and need have awakened in the bottom of your stomach.

“I don’t think we need to give such a performance to our friends.” — even though you didn’t care right now, you knew it would be quite embarrassing after.

“You’re probably right, but I've been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

“You’re definitely a keeper.”

“I can’t keep denying every minute I think of you. I need to call you mine.”

“Claim me yours.”

And just like that, he kissed you again. This time gently and with all the love he had. You could both feel the invisible strings that intertwine your hearts and lives.

The feelings that flared up no longer frightened, but forced him to look into the future without doubt. Evan has been burned in a relationship so many times, but now he sees clearly — life without you is a thousand times more destructive.

You've been imagining events for so long that could lead to the beginning of your relationship, and none of them were the way you're experiencing now. You're with Buck in the ocean, your bodies are pressed against each other and you can't break the kiss because you can't get enough.

“Fuck, you’re all I ever dreamed of.” — Buck broke the kiss and said it into your lips.

You were walking back to the house and holding hands. What's the point of hiding that you're a couple now if everyone's been waiting for this?

You and Buck walked past the pool giggling and went into the house to change your clothes and most likely it won't end there.

“Okay, ladies, each of you now owns me 10 dollars.” — sipping from her glass, Hen knew she would win this bet.

Let me know if you want part 2 🫧

[anonymousaccountuser]

Okay. I watched Lupin Zero a while back and I’m losing my goddamn MIND over the metaphor of Lupin, a thief, stealing Jigen’s heart. It has been MONTHS and it plagues my mind still. I’m practically tearing my hair out.

Like… Imagine you are a boy. A lonely boy, a boy who’s been hurt his entire life, a boy who was given a gun at the age of five and taught to kill mercilessly without hesitation. You’re constantly told you’re not good enough, that nobody will ever want you for you, that you’ll only ever be a weapon; you’re worth nothing more than that, nothing less. The more skill you have, the more value you hold; if you do a job well you’ll be worth something, if you fail you’ll probably get beat or tossed out, considered less than dirt by your own shitty father. You’re not a boy, not really. You’re a gun, and the minute you miss a shot you’re worthless. You learn that no, you can’t be a kid—being a kid is not for you. You don’t have time for stupid birthday parties or immature little kid games when you’re too busy fighting in war zones or getting shot at in Cambodia. You teach yourself not to feel; remorse and regret are pointless when you’re a hitman, and so is love—you never have childhood crushes or fancy any of the pretty girls at your school. You think it’s stupid. You’ve never been interested in girls anyway, and your father once threatened to shoot you if you ever tried the alternative, so you lock your heart away, stuff it into a box and cram it into a safe and set fifty different code-combination locks and wrap chains around it so that you can’t feel.

And then one day, some skinny rich kid with sticky fingers shows up, and just won’t leave you alone. Okay, you think to yourself. No biggie. He’s just some spoiled brat with too much time on his hands who doesn’t know what he’s getting into. But then this kid starts treating you like you’re worth something, like you’re some sort of treasure he values, something he wants to chase; and not for your quick draw, either. This monkey-faced little brat seems to only want to know more about you, and play stupid kid games with you. He’s annoying, but the trouble he gets into is fun enough, even if you always end up having to bail him out. You find out that this kid is a thrill-seeker, and much to your surprise, he considers you thrilling. You’ve never had friends before, but this feels like something else. The way he looks at you makes your stomach fuzzy with a feeling you’re not entirely sure what to think of, and no matter how many times you walk away you always find yourself drawn to him. You’re reminded of what your father threatened to do at that, so you tuck that feeling away with all the others.

But then, this bastard “friend” of yours does something you never expected; he chips away at the walls you’ve built, carefully picks the locks holding chains around your heart with nimble, practiced fingers. He pries at that safe of yours like it’s fun, like it’s some sort of challenge for him (he likes challenges, you’ve come to find) and finds out those combinations of yours with thieving expertise. And then, as if none of your past matters, as if all those thousands of walls of defence you built and security lasers you set and safety precautions you took are absolutely nothing to him, he reaches forward and places a skinny hand over your chest and takes what he wants, like he’s always done. He holds you in the palm of his hand like you’re something precious, a valued piece of artwork in a renowned museum that he’s taken the liberty of nabbing, and you let him. You let him steal you like some pretty piece of jewelry. You let him pull you from the shitty life you live with that shitty dad of yours and steal you away, even though you’re scared out of your mind of intimacy. You’re alone in the dark of that cramped little safe that you’ve locked yourself away in your entire life, and he picks the lock with a bobby pin and reaches for you and grabs your hand; and then suddenly, you’re not so alone anymore. Suddenly you’re more than a gun, you’re Jigen Daisuke, and Lupin the Third wants you like he would a priceless ruby on display in the hall of a rich man’s mansion.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION, PEOPLE??!? DO YOU SEE IT!!?!1!?

[unholyhelbig]

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”  

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

[idkwhatever580]

Gina?

Masterlist

Pairings: Regina George x reader

Prompt: reader helps Regina when her life falls apart

Warnings: self hate, swearing,

A/N: I had a request to do this and I did it the other way around so here is a different version. I stuggled with the body part since I kind of was going on and on and it led to something else but I hope you like it!

Y/n’s pov

I just got to my girlfriend’s house. Her mom called me and said she’s been on the treadmill for two hours.

Ms. George called around four and she said that she left school early and wouldn’t get off, so I immediately told her that I was coming over.

I had just gotten out of school too.

So I run into the house and say a quick

“Hey Ms. George!”

And I ran to their workout room.

The door is locked so I knock really hard so she can hear me. She thinks I’m her mom so she yells

“Mom I told you I need to lose three pounds!!!”

“Gina baby! It’s me! Y/n! Can you please let me in?

“No! You need to go! I need to lose more weight!”

I sigh when I realize she’s not getting off that machine until I drag her off. So I quickly find two Bobby pins and pick the lock. Thank god for coach carr.

He might not have taught me a lot of things. Except for that if you have sex you’ll get chlamydia and die. (False) but he once had to pick the lock to get back into the classroom when he accidentally got us all locked out.

So I open the door and find her eating a gross looking bar of sorts.

I turn off the treadmill and say

“Gina. Please. This isn’t healthy.”

She is panting and sweating and she finally kind of snaps out of it.

She is like really fucking tired now so I help her to the bathroom to clean off.

“What kind of bar is that Gina?”

She shrugs while washing her hair and says

“It’s like a Kalteen bar. It’s Swedish or something”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Where did you get these from and what do they do?”

“They make you lose weight. And Cady gave them to me.”

She steps out of the shower and I say

“I don’t trust that girl”

She kind of scoffs and says

“You don’t trust anyone”

I look at her as she dries off and I say

“You’re right. I don’t trust very many people. Do you even know what is in this?”

She shrugs and says

“No.”

I squint and grab the package of the bars and I look up the brand. My eyes widen when I read the description.

All of the ingredients are said to be aids in gaining weight. So I turn to Regina and say

“Spit that out. Right. Now.”

She listens and spits it out, but says

“Why?”

I grab her hand and say

“You know how I said you shouldn’t trust Cady Heron?”

She rolls her eyes and says

“Yes come on tell me”

I sigh and pick up the bar and say

“This shit makes you gain weight. She literally tricked you.”

She takes the information in and then starts screaming.

Loud.

I cover my ears and as she is screaming she goes into her closet and grabs this pink book.

She finally stopped screaming. I’ve never seen this book before so I say

“What’s that?”

“A burn book”

She starts writing something in it and puts her picture in it.

“What is it about?”

She huffs and says

“It has all the girls in our class in it. Talks shit about them.”

I look at her with wide eyes and say

“Am i in it?”

She groans and says

“No. You go to north west. . I go to north shore. It only has north shore juniors in it. Also I’d never let them write anything bad about you anyways.”

I frown and nod my head and say

“What are you doing with it?”

She rolls her eyes and says

“I’m taking it to the school. Showing everyone. Blaming the three bitches who wouldn’t let me sit at my fucking table!”

I widen my eyes and say

“Wait. You couldn’t sit at their table?”

She nods her head and says

“Because I was wearing fucking sweatpants and it wasn’t the day.”

I scoff and say

“Wow. That’s stupid”

She nods and starts crying and says

“Sweatpants are all that fits me right now because of those stupid bars. I thought Cady was nice.”

I sign and nod my head. I run to hug her and say

“Let’s think this through baby. Whatever is in this book is going to ruin some people’s lives right now okay? I know she ruined yours. I know. But there’s no need to be the same way. Remember what we talked about?”

She looks at me and says

“What?”

I smile and say

“When someone hurts us. We get back up. Stand taller than them. And come back better than ever.”

She huffs and says

“Why though? Why can’t I ruin her life?”

I sigh and say

“Regina. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Don’t be the girl that hurt you first okay? Cady is a horrible person. She will have to deal with the consequences of that. But you are a good person.”

She sniffles and says

“I’m actually not”

I frown and say

“Huh?”

“I’m not a good person.”

I laugh softly and say

“What are you talking about baby?”

She sits up and takes a deep breath. It almost looks like she is preparing herself for me to leave her or something.

“Y/n. You know I am pretty popular right?”

I nod my head and say

“What does popularity have to do with anything?”

She looks down and says

“I’m not just popular. I’m like the head bitch in charge. I rule that fucking school. Every girl wants to be me. And I am mean. I’m a bully. I’ve never been nice to anyone. Not even Gretchen or Karen.”

I look at her confused and say

“What are you talking about? That doesn’t sound like you at all”

She sighs and shakes her head.

“I know. Because I am different around you. You make me a better person. But in reality. I am no better than Cady. There’s this one girl. I used to be friends with her. Her name is Janis. I ruined her life in sixth grade. I told everyone she was a lesbian because she was sad when I didn’t hang out with her because I had a boyfriend.”

I nod my head trying to take all this information in.

“And I bullied her so bad that she lit our shared stuffed animal on fire. Because I was using it to call her a lesbian without her knowing. So she lit it on fire. And then I caught my backpack on fire. I knew that. I knew she didn’t try to light my backpack on fire. And what did i do? I called her a pyro-lez. Everyone bullied her too. Trying to be like me.”

I look down and say

“Wow. That. That’s a lot”

She nods her head and says

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out. I thought we’d make it to college and I could be a completely different person. I thought I could run and be the person I want to be. But when you told me that you were switching schools for senior year I freaked out. Started focusing on everything that was happening this year like my body and my school life so that I could get it all this year. Because I knew the second you found out you’d dump me and then I’d become a loser.”

I nod my head as I listen to her.

“Regina?”

She stops and says

“I’m ready. I’m ready for you to break up with me”

I shake my head and say

“I’m not breaking up with you.”

She furrows her eyebrows as I continue.

“I’m sticking with you. Okay? Clearly you have a lot of things you need to work through. And that’s okay. We all do. But I am not leaving you. I love you okay? I love everything about you. And I’m not going to leave you because I know you can be better”

She nods her head and looks away and says

“Y/n? Why do you love me? I’m not pretty anymore”

I scoff and say

“What? You mean because Cady gave you those fuck ass bars? Because you gained a little weight?”

She nods her head and says

“I’m not pretty like I used to be. My body is ruined.”

I sigh and say.

“Take off your shirt”

Her eyes widen and she says

“What?”

I shake my head and say

“I’m not doing anything. Just take off your shirt okay?”

She does so and I get on my knees in between her legs. I kiss her stomach and I say

“I love your stomach. I love your stomach whether it is skinny and tiny or thicker okay?”

I move down and kiss her thighs

“I love your thighs. Whether or not they have a gap okay?”

She nods her head and I start kissing all over her and I say

“I love every inch of you. Every single inch. You having gained a little weight means nothing to me because you’re so so beautiful.”

Then I stand up and kiss her forehead.

“I love your mind. Because deep down I know you are good. If you really weren’t good I would have left you a long time ago. But you are good. You can be good to everyone.”

She tears up and says

“I want to be good”

I smile and say

“You do?”

She nods and says

“But I don’t know how”

I smile and say

“I’ll help you with that. But you have to look at me first and say you’re pretty”

She hesitates and shakes her head. I raise an eyebrow so she rolls her eyes and sighs. Then she mumbles

“I’m pretty”

I smirk and say

“Now mean it”

Once she realizes she’s not getting out of it, she sighs and for real says

“I love my body. I am pretty”

I smile and say

“Good job baby. Now. Let’s talk about what you’re gonna do now okay?”

She nods her head and I say

“So obviously this Janis girl has been hurt by you.”

She nods her head and I continue

“What are you going to do about that?”

She hesitantly says

“I’m gonna apologize?”

I nod my head and say

“Good job baby. You’re gonna apologize and explain to her why you did it all those years.”

She shakes her head and looks at me with pleading eyes and says

“What if she doesn’t care and still hates me?”

I sigh and say

“That’s a very likely possibility Regina. She might hate you. And that’s okay. Sometimes you have to understand that if you apologized, although it doesn’t make what you did right, it means you were willing to reconcile with them. And if they don’t care then that becomes their problem because you did what you could.”

She nods her head and says

“What else am I gonna do?”

I think and say

“You’re gonna burn that”

I point to the burn book she has and she says

“Why?”

I sigh and say

“Gina. You heard me. That book has the ability to ruin someone’s life. Honestly if I was in it and whatever had been written about me had gotten out I’d probably have hurt myself. We don’t want anyone to do that because of us right?”

She nods her head a lot and says

“I don’t want them to hurt”

I nod and say

“So you’re gonna?”

She finishes

“I’m gonna burn it tonight”

I nod and say

“Good job baby”

Then she says

“Let’s do it now.”

I smile and say

“Okay. Let’s do it now.”

We go to the backyard and I grab some lighter fluid from the barbecue pit and Regina throws the burn book in the fire pit.

I hand her the lighter fluid and she squirts some onto it and then I take it and trade her for the lighter.

She turns to me not knowing how to light it and I give her a bit of fire starter and say

“Wanna record it?”

She nods so I grab my phone and she burns the book.

We sit and watch it turn into ashes and I give her a hug. She turns to me and says

“It kind of feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders”

I smile and say

“Good. It should feel that way.”

We put the rest of the fire out and go back inside.

“Okay y/n, what else do I have to do?”

I smile and say

“Well I’m taking you shopping. You can’t go back better than ever wearing the sweatpants that fit you right now. So we’re going to buy some cute clothes in your current size and you’re gonna own it”

She smiles and says

“Okay.”

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

We come back from the shopping spree with two bags in each hand

“That was amazing baby thank you for taking me and spoiling me”

I smile and say

“Anything for my love”

She smiles and then sets out an outfit for the next day.

I smile proudly and she turns around with a doubtful look.

“What if none of it works? What if everyone thinks I’m kidding when I start being nice? What if I don’t get any friends?”

I sigh and say

“It won’t matter. You’ll have me. I’ll always be here for you and next year I’ll be by your side. We are probably getting the same classes since we’re on the same course plan so we’ll have a lot of time together.”

She smiles and says

“Thanks baby you always know how to reassure me.”

I smile and nod.

“Of course baby. You deserve to know you’re not alone”

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

My school gets off on Fridays so I stayed home while Regina went to school.

She has been texting me all day asking for reassurance that she can do this. And I have nothing to do so I give it.

She is supposed to be talking to Janis this class period since they both have one class.

I told her to do it privately so nobody feels any pressure.

She calls me and I pick up.

“Regina? Baby are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m good!”

She sounds happy that’s a good sign.

“How’d it go?”

She giggles at someone who is talking to her and she says

“Janis and I talked it out and she’s so fun. I have been talking and laughing with her all period! Thank you for encouraging me to do this.”

I sigh and say

“Did you tell her about the burn book?”

She says

“Mhm. We talked about it and she said I was having problems with internalized homophobia”

I smile and say

“Yeah. That’s probably it. Than what happened?”

“We just started talking and it was like before! When we used to be best friends you know?”

I say

“Mhm”

And she continues

“Hey! So I have to go okay? I don’t want to get in trouble for having my phone out but I just wanted to say that Janis and I are gonna hang out tonight. Is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine. Wait before you go did you mean like you’re gonna hang out with her and then hang out with me?”

She giggles at that person again

Probably Janis

“Oh um. I think we’re gonna catch up like a bunch so probably not. We can hang out tomorrow night though right?”

I sigh and say

“Yeah that’s fine baby. Call me tonight?”

She laughs and says

“I will. I love you baby bye bye”

“I love you too bye”

We hang up and I throw my phone on the bed.

Of course I’m a little hurt. We were supposed to go on a date tonight. Like we do every Friday night. But it’s fine. She is just excited about Janis. And that’s okay.

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

My sister comes into my room in the afternoon and says

“You’re not going to Regina’s?”

I shake my head

“But it’s your date night?”

I smile and say

“She’s catching up with an old friend.”

She makes an oh face and leaves me be.

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

I’ve been watching movies all evening and it’s almost midnight. I do have to sleep eventually but Regina hasn’t called me yet.

I sigh and accept that she’s not gonna call me tonight so I turn off my tv and go to sleep.

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

I wake up and check my phone to hopefully see some texts from Regina but nothing shows up.

Just a few emails and snap streaks.

I check all of Regina’s socials and I see her story.

She went to the movies with Janis to watch Inside Out 2.

We were supposed to watch that together.

I tear up because we had planned that since we first saw the trailers for it.

And she watched it without even a thought of me.

I get lost in my thoughts.

Maybe this was her thing the whole time. She bullied Janis because she liked her. And I was just someone to take her mind off of her. But she got her. And I am gonna be left. And after all I did for her? Are you kidding me?! I helped her. I love her. I have so much up for her. And she’s just gonna drop me for this girl?!

I didn’t realize until my phone started ringing that I am crying.

It’s Regina. I check the time and see it’s noon.

I wipe my tears and make myself a little more presentable even though she can’t see me and I pick up.

“Wow baby. You usually pick up after the first ring”

I laugh and cover up the fact that I was just crying and say

“I was in the bathroom sorry”

She hums and says

“How was your night?”

I sigh and say

“It was fine”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. It’s just Janis and I had so much fun and she decided to stay over at my house last night and I felt like I would be a bad friend if I called my girlfriend while she was there.”

“It’s okay Gina. I get it. I just wish you texted me”

“I know I just got caught up and had so much fun and forgot. I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.”

After a pause I decided to bring up the movie and say

“So… you and Janis went to the movies last night?”

She hums and says

“Yeah it was so much fun. You would have loved it.”

I feel another tear coming and I suck it up.

“Yeah. What did you guys watch?”

“We watched.. inside out 2”

She trails off when she realizes what we were supposed to do next week. But before she says anything I say

“So you’re cancelling next week? I mean. It would be kind of wasteful to just watch it again right? Waste of time.”

She sighs and says

“I’m so sorry y/n. I completely forgot. Janis had asked me and I just said yes without thinking. We can still go if you want to?”

I say

“No it’s okay. I’ll watch it when it comes out on Netflix or something. I don’t like the movies anyways.”

Lie. I love the movies.

“Huh. I thought you loved the movies?”

I huff and say

“It’s fine.”

She says

“Janis left a few minutes ago and I called as soon as I could.”

I hum and say

“Oh that’s nice. I’m glad you’re catching up with her”

She then says

“Yeah. Want to hang out today?”

“Uhh I don’t know, I’m kinda busy today. I have a lot of chores to do.”

“Oh. Well I could help you with them! Then we could spend time together and they’ll be finished faster so we can hang out!”

I reluctantly give in. I kind of don’t want to hang out with her since I’m hurt but maybe it’ll be easier to explain to her in person.

“Sure. Come over”

“Okay!”

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

Regina gets to my house and immediately hugs me. I melt into her embrace and say

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course! Anything to hang out with my person!”

I smile awkwardly and just walk back to my chores.

I start folding clothes and Regina tries to talk to me.

“So. What did you do this morning?”

“Slept in”

“Oh. Um did you sleep alright?”

“I slept fine”

“Okay. Did you have a good day yesterday?”

I sigh and say

“Not really”

This is the perfect set up to tell her how I feel. I need to communicate with her better.

“Oh. Why wasn’t it good?”

I fold the last shirt I have and pick up my pile and take it to my room and Regina follows me.

“I don’t know”

I get scared and shut down a bit but Regina knows this play

“Don’t do that. Tell me why it wasn’t good baby”

I put my clothes in my drawer and pick up some shoes and put them in my closet. I end up picking some stuff up and I’m on my knees by my shoes.

I try to say something but nothing comes out. So Regina peeks her head in and says

“Hello?”

I turn from my spot on the ground and tear up slightly.

“Oh baby! Don’t cry! What happened?”

She comes and sits down next to me in my now cramped closet.

“I don’t know. I’m having a hard time saying it”

“I understand that. Take your time baby. I’m here”

I sigh and smile slightly when I realize she has picked up my words from when we were in this situation but reversed.

“I guess- I- ugh this is so hard”

I run my hands through my hair and Regina just listens. She gives me a reassuring look and I feel better about telling her.

“I am hurt I guess. By you. See I love that you are rekindling a friendship that you lost a long time ago but it’s not like you to dip on me okay!”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“Dip? We didn’t have any plans last night did we?”

I sigh and say

“It was Friday last night. We always make plans. Remember? It was your week to plan it. But that’s not even the only thing. You dipped on me, which I said it was fine because I knew you were excited about being friends with her again, then you didn’t call me like you said you would. And to top it all off I woke up this morning to see you watched a movie with her that we had plans to watch together! I’m just really hurt that you didn’t remember all of that.”

She looks down feeling bad that she did all of that.

“I’m so sorry y/n”

I look at her and say

“It’s fine. I’m just being over dramatic.”

I wipe my tears and go to get up but she grabs me and says

“No. It’s not fine. You should be my priority. But you were not last night. I got so caught up in me and Janis that I completely forgot about you. And that’s not okay. I should have remembered that you and I were going to watch the movie. I should have remembered to call you. But I didn’t.”

I sigh and say

“I’m sorry I just am jealous I guess. I feel like you never act like this and I got scared that you’d leave me for her because you didn’t want me to begin with. I thought maybe you had wanted Janis but didn’t know if you could have her but you knew you could have me”

She laughs and shakes her head

“No baby. I love you so much. I had a lapse of judgment last night. And I apologize. I don’t like Janis like that. Thank goodness. But I won’t leave you. Ever. And by the way. I really appreciate you telling me this. It can take a lot and you’re helping our relationship be better by communicating with me.”

I smile and say

“Thank you baby I’m sorry I got so worked up. I just let my thoughts get to me.”

She nods and says

“I can relate to that”

I smile and say

“So. What do we do now?”

I look around and she does too. We’re still on the floor of my cramped closet and she says

“I guess we cuddle and watch a movie together?”

I smile and say

“I like that idea.”

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

A/N: this totally went the opposite of what I planned but it’s fine 😚 it’s cute either way. I hope y’all liked it!!

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

Chapter Summary: Buck faces a few challenges, and you're there for some of them.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her. 

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times. 

“Come in,”  Bobby says. 

You step in. He looks up. 

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.” 

You close the door and lean against it. 

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers. 

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else. 

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you. 

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out. 

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat. 

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.” 

“Fair enough,” you cede. 

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.” 

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.” 

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says. 

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.  

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks. 

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.” 

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen. 

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. 

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence. 

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says. 

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” 

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet. 

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact. 

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby. 

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?” 

He just looks at you. 

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone. 

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way. 

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig. 

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle. 

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues. 

“Damn,” Hen whistles. 

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle. 

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors. 

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply. 

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man. 

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous. 

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?” 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy. 

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.” 

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.” 

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out. 

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name. 

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out. 

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it. 

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of. 

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is. 

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top. 

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios. 

You look up and shake your head. 

“We lost him,” Chim radios back. 

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies. 

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck. 

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.” 

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while. 

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can. 

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. 

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier. 

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously. 

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?” 

Bobby answers for you. “No.” 

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you. 

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds. 

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?” 

“It’ll pass,” you promise. 

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago. 

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

 

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride. 

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed. 

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker. 

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?” 

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head. 

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair. 

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. 

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly. 

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.” 

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.” 

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.” 

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone. 

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.” 

“Sounds like a copout.” 

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.” 

Ch 3

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any. 

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help. 

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts. 

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job. 

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness. 

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with. 

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.” 

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes. 

That answer had changed her entire existence. 

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay. 

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound. 

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester. 

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of. 

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry. 

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit. 

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night. 

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.” 

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.” 

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.” 

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.” 

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.” 

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.” 

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different. 

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.” 

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?” 

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?” 

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.” 

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.” 

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.” 

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.” 

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.” 

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.” 

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do. 

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times. 

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then? 

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign. 

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).” 

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it. 

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before. 

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more. 

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue. 

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.” 

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”  

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.” 

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?” 

“I just needed to relieve some stress.” 

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.” 

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?” 

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.” 

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?” 

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.” 

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.” 

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.” 

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted. 

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.” 

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.” 

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?” 

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.” 

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.” 

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?” 

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.” 

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.” 

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right. 

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.” 

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).” 

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.” 

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?” 

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.” 

“Show me then.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.” 

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth. 

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.” 

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?” 

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.” 

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body. 

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.  

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm. 

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could. 

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.” 

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.” 

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.” 

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.” 

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit. 

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.” 

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her. 

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers. 

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.” 

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?” 

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.” 

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.” 

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes. 

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.” 

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.” 

“No fighting?” 

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.” 

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.” 

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

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[thirdsaltyhunter]

Hold Me Together

Dean Winchester x Reader (could be read as platonic or romantic)

Summary: you're having a hard time trying to hold it together after Bobby's death, but Dean's there to pick up the pieces

Warning: hurt/comfort, sweet Dean, character death, talk of death and depression, smoking, season 7 spoilers

A/N: this is written as a reader pov but it's more of an o/c just without a name, not proofread all mistakes are my own

Bobby had taken you in when you were a teenager. At fourteen your entire life had been upended. You lost your parents and any semblance of the normal life you had. Bobby had found you on a hunt and had taken you back to his home. You were hesitant to trust him and for the first few weeks you hardly talked, ate, or slept, still processing what had happened to you. At least processing the best a fourteen year old, with no prior knowledge of the hunting world, could.

Bobby was patient with you, gaining your trust and trying to get you to open up. He was hesitant to tell you about hunting and the world of the supernatural, but you were a curious kid and you started to read his lore books. After that you figured it out pretty quickly and took quite the interest in it. Many days, you spent reading about monsters and the paranormal. You learned about how to kill them and Bobby taught you how to protect yourself.

At the age of sixteen, you decided to become a hunter, against Bobby's wishes. You fit the bill of a hunter: no family, no friends, and a boat load of trauma. Despite how young you were, you were pretty good at killing monsters, given that you now had two years worth of knowledge about hunting and a lot of training.

Hunting became your life. You were on the road a lot of the time, but you would always come back to Bobby's house after every hunt and he would take care of you. Through him, you met Sam and Dean. You helped them find their dad and after he died you went quite a few hunts with them. Eventually you became close friends and hunting partners, being there when Sam died, when Dean came back from Hell, fighting side by side during the Apocalypse.

You were one little, messed-up family, brought together by the fact that Bobby was like a father to all of you. And now he was gone.

It had been almost two weeks since Bobby had passed away. You and the boys were holed up in Rufus's cabin in Montana, trying to deal with his death. You hadn't been sleeping, opting to stay busy to try and keep from breaking down. You had spent a lot of your time getting his affairs in order and calling the people closest to him to let them know what happened. As his adoptive daughter, you felt it was your duty.

When you weren't doing that, you were trying to figure out what the numbers he had scrawled on your hand meant. You had tried almost everything you could think of, bank numbers, passwords, lock codes. Nothing worked and it was driving you crazy.

You had been distant from the boys, even though you were all staying in the small cabin together, you were quiet and in your head most of the time. You knew they were worried about you, trying to get you to eat or sleep. They knew that you were the closest to Bobby out of the three of them and would take his death hard, but it surprised them that you never broke down, you just kept working.

But everyone break eventually. There's always that moment where everything hits. That is where you are now. Crying so hard it hurts and utterly exhausted.

Both the boys were gone, Sam had gone on a supply run and Dean had gone to give Bobby's mystery numbers to Frank to see if he could figure them out.

You sat crammed between the coffee table and the couch, knees to your chest, holding a picture of you and Bobby in one hand and a cigarette in the other. You don't even know what had started it, but you had just...broke. All the emotions you had been pushing back came to the surface all at once and now you had sat there and sobbed until your chest ached.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the front door open. Lifting your head from your knees, you saw that Dean had walked through the door. You didn't want him to see you like this, you never really cried in front of him and certainly not sobbing like you were now. He hadn't seen you yet, given that you were on the floor, so you quickly wiped your tears. Maybe you could run to the bathroom before he saw your face.

Nope. As soon as he turned around, he locked eyes with you and you knew there was no way he wouldn't notice you had been crying. He noticed everything.

"Aw, Sweetheart," he said softly. Seeing your face, he crossed to room and moved to kneel beside you.

"I'm ok," you said and stood up, trying to brush him off. "I'm ok," you repeated, more to yourself, as you tried to will away your tears.

However, you couldn't hold back the fresh wave building behind your eyes. You let out a broken sob and your legs gave out on you, partially from the awkward angle you had been sitting at and partially from how exhausted you were.

Dean caught you before you could fall. "Ok, you're ok," he said, holding you to him with one arm as he took the photo and your cigarette from your hand and put it out in the ashtray.

Before you could protest, he had lifted you into his arms and move to lay on the couch with you on top of him. All you could do, was let the tears fall as you clung to his shirt and let him position you in a way that was comfortable.

"Shhh, I got you, it's ok," he soothed, wrapping you in his arms and running a hand up and down your back.

He didn't say anything other than whispered assurances, just letting your emotions run through you as he fought tears in his own eyes. After what felt like an eternity of crying and soaking his shirt, sleep finally pulled you under.

Sam walked through the door with an arm load of groceries. "Hey man, wha-" he stopped himself when himself when he saw his brother raise a finger to his lips and then point to you. Only then did the younger Winchester realize that you were asleep on top of his brother, wrapped in a blanket that Dean had pulled over you.

"She ok?" he mouthed, noting the solemn expression on his brother's face.

Dean shook his head 'no'.

"I'll make her some food, she needs to eat," Sam whispered, as to not wake you, and proceeded to make dinner as quietly as possible.

You felt a hand gently shaking your shoulder before you heard Dean's voice.

"Hey Sweetheart," he said, when your eyes finally peeled open. "Sammy made dinner." He hated having to wake you, but you had to be starving.

You nodded and untangled yourself from Dean's embrace. You really didn't want to leave the comfort of his arms, but your stomach was demanding food after so long without eating.

You went to the bathroom to wash the tears stains from your face before joining the boys at the kitchen table. Neither of them made you talk if you didn't want to, instead they made light conversation and tried to make you smile. You knew this was going to be a hard time on all of you, but you were eternally grateful to have them by your side.

[cartierre]

LE PETIT PRINCE | ms47

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU mick schumacher x fem!reader

side note: i'm so sorry the plot here is kind of non-existent and it's literally just mick being boyfriend of the month but the request has been sitting in my inbox for quite some time and i felt obligated to finally finish it because i felt bad for taking so long.

♡ liked by mickschumacher and 13,492 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername mick keeps buying me french books and says "i can teach you french" but really he just wants to spend more time with me by translating them to me

view all 38 comments

user1 get yourself someone like mick who keeps buying you books ⤷ user2 you make it sound like as if books are actually expensive ⤷ user3 it's the thought that counts babes

mickschumacher you really cracked the code, meine liebe (my love) ⤷ yourusername it's because i've read sherlock

user4 i'm so jealous to my core

♡ liked by mickschumacher and 14,012 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername livres et bisous (books and kisses)

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user5 the last picture is doing things to me ⤷ user6 y/n really won at love ⤷ user7 ik i'm so jealous of her

mickschumacher mon coeur (my heart) ⤷ yourusername mon ange (my angel)

user8 they're so in love i hate it here ⤷ user9 how can someone be as lucky as y/n fr

♡ liked by yourusername, felipedrugovich and 349,207 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher back in switzerland before travelling up to belgium!

view all 783 comments

user10 ugh he's so boyfriend ⤷ user11 i feel so painfully single rn

user12 legit every time i see a post of y/n there are books involved ⤷ user13 she's just like me fr ⤷ user14 our little hopeless romantic

yourusername i cannot believe you laughed at me when i cried at the book's ending ⤷ mickschumacher i'm sorry ⤷ yourusername you should be! at least bobby was there to comfort me

user15 y/n crying because she got emotionally invested in her book is so real of her ⤷ user16 I'm her, she is me

♡ liked by mickschumacher and 11,397 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername i think i've packed enough books for the upcoming race week

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mickschumacher you think? ⤷ yourusername there's never enough to read

user17 maybe she could just watch mick race instead of reading her boring books? ⤷ user18 she's at like every fucking race, let her be if she wants a time out and just enjoy some reading ⤷ user19 also what if she has social anxiety and just doesn't want to talk to many people and therefore loves to read instead?

user20 i understand her struggle of never having enough books with me on vacation ⤷ user21 like at least 50% if my luggage is filled with books and then i always buy more

♡ liked by mickschumacher and 14,597 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername mon petit prince (my little prince)

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user22 UGH I WANT THIS SO BAD

user23 y/n learning french with the help of mick and reading le petit prince is literally the most adorable thing i've seen all week ⤷ user24 i just know mick's really patient with teaching her french ⤷ user25 i didn't even know mick speaks french ⤷ user26 he grew up in switzerland, they get taught french there

mickschumacher your french is definitely getting somewhere! ⤷ yourusername i have the best teacher comment liked by mickschumacher

♡ liked by youruserame, dennis_hauger and 398,102 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher ma rose🌹(my rose)

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user27 HIM CALLING HER HIS ROSE BECAUSE HE IS HER PETIT PRINCE i am deceased ⤷ user28 boyfriend of the decade

yourusername je t'aime mon petit prince (i love you my little prince) comment liked by mickschumacher ⤷ mickschumacher je t'aime aussi ma rose (i love you too my rose)

user29 this is it i'm dead, died of envy ⤷ user30 how can i live laugh love under these conditions

user31 biting my fist rn

[chobani-flip]

@bucktommypositivityweek

prompt: what they love most about each other (yeah, idk... i just realised that this was happening like an hour ago? i was wondering why so many fics had a similar theme today... oh well... im not sure what this is, but it definitely is. enjoy?)

--

so there's this line that buck heard at a wedding once. it was while he was working as a bartender in peru, and this american couple who'd met in the bar he worked at during his shift decided to get married there.

and Sex-on-the-Beach-Easy-On-The-Cranberry-Juice said to Dark-And-Stormy: "how do i love thee, let me count the ways"

which made buck look up from where he'd been mixing up a margarita because: thee? really? but then Sex-on-the-Beach-Easy-On-The-Cranberry-Juice went on to list a truly ridiculous list of attributes which made buck sigh a little wistfully and wonder what it was like to have someone to love like that.

(who'd love you back)

he thought he'd found it with abby, but well...

and with taylor he sometimes lay awake at night rolling the words over on his tongue like bobby taught him you should do with wine, to actually have a chance at tasting some of the insane things the labels promise. but back then how do i love thee, let me count the ways always left a vague fuzziness all over his mouth, all grippy tannin.

(they weren't right for each other, buck knew that now. maybe they could have worked if they'd met sooner, or later, but not then.)

"evan?"

"hmmm?"

"the seatbelt?"

oh. slowly, buck blinked at tommy through the warm cabin light. he'd had just the mai tai at the bar, but it'd been a while since he'd had anything besides an occassional beer and he could feel the alcohol hitting him more than usual.

it made the interior of tommy's car blur just a little as he turned his head to reach for the seatbelt. it made him grin wide and stupid into tommy's lovely face as he smiled his crow's feet smile with his eyes and turned the key in the ignition.

a single sure turn of the wrist. buck loved tommy's hands. big. wide. and big. and the bone, the one that stuck out a little at the wrist. the one that hen smacked him for laughing at it for the hundredth time when he was helping her learn anatomy with flashcards. pisiform bone. buck loved it too.

"you ok?" "i like your hands"

they didn't speak at once, but tommy had barely finished his question when buck began his confession so it was very nearly the same thing. tommy threw his own hand a slightly bemused look before reaching for the gearshift and changing gear.

because tommy drove manual. buck loved to watch the muscles of his legs contract and release in perfect synchronicity as he released the clutch and stepped on the gas.

he wore jeans tonight for their meet-up with hen and karen. buck loved how they fit around his thighs, made him kinda wanna bite them.

and then move up and taste his hipbones again, and bury his nose in the hair at the base of tommy's cock and suck at the sensitive skin of his balls and-

"evan, you know i love to hear you talk but i really need you to shut up now. im glad you like how tight my jeans are but they're really fucking tight."

buck blinked a little faster at being brought back from his daydream, licked his dry lips and realized the sudden absence of sound vibrating his vocal cords.

huh.

tommy was throwing him little looks in between checking the side mirrors, smiling, maybe a little bit in disbelief. buck loved the way his upper lip grew thinner the wider he smiled. he also loved to bite on the fuller bottom lip.

how do i love thee, let me count the ways

buck bit his own lip to keep from grinning and, with the aftertaste of rum and sugar smooth at the back of his throat, went on with his list.

[buddierecs]

hurt/comfort buddie fics.

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

a leaf falls on loneliness (highly recommend this fic!!) by: iimpossible_things "buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “i’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. really, he doesn’t. the 118 has too many good, kind people for that. but every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to eddie or bobby or hen or chim, he hears eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.” —you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting— so each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence." word count: 11k important tags: angst, fluff, happy ending, orginal male character blue skies by: spaceprincessem "buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down" word count: 36k important tags: my sisters keeper au, original characters, ptsd, nightmares, emotional whump, evan buckley break down, getting together and i'm not good at winning fights anymore by: spaceprincessem "five times buck needs to feel eddie's heartbeat and the one time eddie needs to feel his" word count: 24k important tags: 5+1 things, whump, protective!eddie diaz, getting together, soft boys in love, ptsd give your heart and soul to charity by: 42hrb "eddie dumps god, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself" word count: 12k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, pov eddie diaz, character study, catholic guilt, therapy, pining, getting together i could find you darling, in any life by: justhockey "buck and eddie meet in afghanistan. it changes everything." word count: 27k important tags: diferent first meeting au, army!eddie diaz, navy seal!evan buckley, emotional infidelity, slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions catharsis by: rogerzsteven "it only takes one minor inconvenience for buck to have his long overdue breakdown" word count: 5.3k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mental/emotional breakdown, bobby nash as evan buckley parent, multiple pov stay by: soft_satan buck’s voice was soft and hesitant, but full of patience when he finally spoke again. “did I do something to upset you, chris? i can leave—” "no!” chris whirled on him, a complete shift from the standoffish vibe he had been giving a second ago. the tears he bravely held back finally broke free from his eyes, sliding down his rosy cheeks from behind his glasses. he shook his head vehemently, the yellow crayon falling to the table. “no, I’m not mad. please…” his words turned to whimpers, his lip trembling. “please don’t leave me too.” word count: 31k important tags: whump, angst, family feels, found family, getting together, team as family

habits by: whileyouresleeping "buck's not sure what's going on when eddie starts kissing him on the head after a rough call, only now it's a thing, and it's a thing buck would very much like to continue if he knew what it meant." word count: 4.9k important tags: tooth-rotting fluff, mild hurt/comfort stick with you by soft_satan "eddie licked his dry lips as he reached for his radio, trying to keep his movements slow and delicate to prevent any more damage to himself or buck. “diaz to captain nash.” “go for nash,” came bobby’s quick reply. “you two okay? where are you?” “we’re in a bit of a sticky situation here…” “we’re a shish kabob, cap!” buck chimed in. eddie rolled his eyes" word count: 5.9k important tags: impalements, whump, getting together, love confessions, hurt!buddie still by: brewsrosemilk "for the first time, buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. dirt to dig at. a door to break through. something. there’s nothing. “your guess was correct, diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “you’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. don’t shift. when you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." word count: 9.3k important tags: near death experience, love confessions, happy ending, first kiss

be my baby (i'll look after you) by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars118 "buck finally breaks down after fixing everyone but himself" word count: 1.5k important tags: nightmares, ptsd, panic attacks, pet names, cuddling, pre-relationship, almost love confession i was made for you by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars118 "buck’s taking care of christopher while eddie is in texas when chris gets sick and has to get surgery." word count: 5.3k important tags: sick!christopher diaz, parent evan buckley, hospitals, bobby nash is evan buckley's parent, getting together, 118 crew as family i know you're hurting (but so am i) by: justhockey "eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands. he knows frustration - he knows fury. he’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you. but that doesn’t give chim the right to lay a damn hand on buck" word count: 3.7k important tags: ptsd, feelings realisation, protective!eddie diaz, communication, 5x04 coda of bikes and concussions by: datleggy "buck gets into an accident on his way to work in the morning, and before he can explain why he's late, he gets thoroughly chewed out and the rest of his day goes way downhill from there." word count: 7.6k important tags: injured!evan buckley, misunderstandings, father-son relationship (buck and bobby), team as family it's okay by: itsmylifekay "buck gets hurt on a call and doesn’t tell anyone." word count: 11k important tags: injury, dissociation, buck needs a hug love language by: whileyouresleeping "eddie's love language is acts of service, and buck doesn't totally get it." word count: 6.4k important tags: mild hurt/comfort, pining, fluff, friends to lovers don't go without me by: ingu "there was a snap, and a crack, and buck was suddenly weightless. the car, the tree, eddie, everything was falling. buck was falling. falling." word count: 31k important tags: major character injury, pining, team as family, whump, love confessions, getting together accidental (please check tw!!) by: rosefield "post lawsuit, buck accidentally cuts his arm. he decides that maybe not getting help is best for everyone." word count: 36k important tags: depression, suicide attempt, post-lawsuit, worried!eddie diaz, happy ending

check out the recs for mature rating hurt/comfort fics :) explicit rating hurt/comfort fics

[lovexjoe]

The Hotel

warning: S M U T with Michael Vargas

You and Michael have been bickering the entire way to this hotel and you couldn’t wait to get there so you guys could finally be separated. Following you across four states was insane, but discovering he’s a US Marshal and you were under witness protection definitely topped it off. Your mother was a piece of fucking work. What happened to the communication is key? She clearly skipped that shit in the parental handbook. Michael didn’t mean what he said at the restaurant. Everything that happened that night at the bar was real. He’s been fighting himself since. You catching him and having him at gun point turned him on. 

Look at you using his tips and tricks against him. He wondered what other things he could teach you and you’d just obey. He fucked up his cover, but he realize he gets to have you in closer proximity so he wasn’t gonna complain. The fact that you walked into that restaurant with the gun and sat both of you down had him swooned. You were more badass than you gave yourself credit for. And rebellious slick mouth of yours… 

“You afraid I might stab you with a chopstick? After you walked me through a kitchen full of knives? You realize how easy it would have been for me to grab one?” 

“Shut up” 

The waiter walked over to ask “Can I get you something?” 

“In a minute” He walks away just for you to continue with your usual sass. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want to order a beer? Cause apparently the Marshals let their agents drink on the job” 

Silence. 

“What are you mute?! Speak!” 

“You did tell me to shut up so you want me to speak now or continue to shut up?” 

The death glare you gave him made it hard for him not to laugh. Boy is he gonna enjoy being this close to you. Hearing him say that he was just playing a role the night at the bar really stung. Everything else was falling apart so to add a shitty love life on top was just g r e a t.

Now here you two were outside of the hotel room waiting for Michael to open it. You wondered to yourself why there was only one key but you decided to ask questions later. You stepped inside, placing your suitcase under the bed. Michael doing his checks around the room. 

“I’ll take the couch…” 

“You’re not sleeping in here get your own room!” You crossed your arms like a brat. If he could put you over his lap and spank you: he would. 

“That’s not how this works Y/N” Whenever he said your name your heart does flutters and your stomach dips.

“Well I’m not comfortable with that” 

“And I’m not comfortable with letting you out of my sight. So….tie me up if it’ll make you feel better but neither one of us is leaving this room.” He walks up to the edge of the bed where you sat, arms crossed like a brat and he towers over you. You felt so small around him. Damsel in fucking distress. 

“I’m gonna need my gun back” You shoved your bag towards him and headed over to the bathroom. Stripping down on the way over there, he took in your figure in your undergarments. He couldn’t believe you’d fuck your mom’s nurse. Bobby? He’s a fucking loser. He took his gun out of your bag and noticed your sketchbook. He recalled the Atlanta office giving him information on you and your recent activities. They definitely forgot to mention how much sass could occupy your petite body. He heard the shower turn on and the curtain pulled back so he took a look into your sketchbook which was also a diary.

Tonight I met a man in the bar. It felt comforting like I didn’t have to run any longer. I could just stay in one place and he’d protect me. He was handsome. I haven’t felt this nervous around someone since high school. I almost forgot what it was to feel attracted to the opposite sex. Just been running on auto pilot and since the incident….fear. He taught me how to shoot and I appreciate him greatly for it. The night ended with no kiss, but I achingly wish it did. 

He smiles to himself as he turns to the next page it was a sketch of him at the bar. He was done talking shit. He joked out you being an artist but you were actually talented. His finger ran over the name you left under the sketch and his heart did a flip. 

My guardian angel 

It was gonna be a hard night to resist you. He knows the feelings were there on both sides. You thought it was unrequited but it was so far from it. He placed your sketchbook back in the bag. The shower turns off and he hears a “fuck” from the bathroom. This motel design was devious cause there was no bathroom door at all. Plus the huge mirror on the wall that could reflect your nudity was just adding fuel to the fire that is ready to ignite. 

“Michael?” You poked your head out. He looks up your way, his stomach feeling those familiar flutters when he’s around you. 

“I forgot a towel…” You looked at the fresh stacked towels on the couch then back on him. Those doe eyes of yours are gonna get you in trouble tonight. It poked a dominant side of him he didn’t know he had. He just wants to take you and having you a begging mess under him. 

“Come and get it….” He sits down on the couch next to the towels. From this angle the mirror behind you was giving him a complete view of your ass and he couldn’t help the feeling of blood rushing to his lower region. 

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask.” You walked over there ready to reach over his lap for a towel. You had so much mouth for a girl who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Tonight he was gonna fix it. He couldn’t control himself any longer. Michael gets up and stands behind you. You can feel the body heat radiating off the two of you. He leans down near your ear and whispers. 

“Bend over for me…” he places a soft kiss below your ear and you followed his wishes. The arm of the chair was soft against your skin and had your ass perked up perfectly for him. You were excited and giddy. He glides his fingers through your folds earning a little shiver in response.

“Fuck, you’re soaking already” You heard him suck the juices off his fingers and you couldn’t wrap your head around what’s happening. 

“You can touch me but you can’t kiss me? Such a gentleman…” you snorted just to earn a hard slap to your ass.

Oh! That felt good. 

“Tonight we’re gonna learn how to listen and obey. Understood?” You look back at him and nodded.

“I can’t hear you….” He slides his fingers through your folds again, rubbing up and down. 

“Y-yes…I-I understand.” 

He pulls you up straight and turned you around to face him. 

“Do you trust me?” He caress your cheek and you nodded as you nuzzle your head into his touch. As soon as your lips touched, all the fear you felt since the incident vanished. You felt whole again. His hands held you close, they were warm and rough but against your soft skin it was like a match sparking a fire. He pulls away, bending you back over the couch handle. 

He spread your cheeks and dove in. His tongue devouring you from your ass to your pussy. Drowning in you, is what he wanted. To consume every bit of wetness you produced for him. You would have never thought he could be this dirty. Heaven’s a thing and you’re there right now because of his touch. 

“Michael!” You reached for his hand and he held it for you as he thrusts his tongue into your hole. His beard getting drenched in the process. 

“I’m gonna worship this pussy.” 

You squeezed his hand letting him know you were close. You felt yourself about to release when the motions that brought you there came to abrupt stop. You let out a frustrated cry.

“That’s for having a slick fucking mouth.” 

You heard his belt come undone along with jeans and boxers. His thick length slapped against your ass. He bites his lip as he slides his length between your folds, teasing your clit. 

Hes so cruel 

“P-please daddy. Just take it” Y/N begged. His ego grew. The fact that you fixed your slick little mouth to beg for him. Hearing you call him daddy made it even better because you were his princess after tonight. He was going to protect you. He was gonna love you. 

“Such a pretty fucking princess for me”. He slips in and slowly thrusts in. Your pussy deviously clenching onto his length. He lifts one of your legs up on the couch arm to get a deeper angle. A sinful angle. He was hitting a spot you didn’t know could be touched. 

“Uhhh fuck you’re so big!” 

“God you’re taking me so fucking good. You’re so fucking good” 

Oh you had a praise kink, there was a feeling unfamiliar in your stomach as he starts to pound into you. Your moans only motivating him to thrust all the way in. 

“Look at you, clenching me as I praise you. You are soaking me. Fuck baby fuckkkk” he wets his thumb and starts to rub on your ass. 

You didn’t even let him work it, you reached behind and assisted as you felt his thumb enter you. Jesus Christ. You were full. Full of him and that’s all you wanted. That’s all you craved. His free hand caress your breast. What a drastic turn of events the night took. 

Neither one of you were complaining. 

“Fuck I’m close”  The sensation of his thumb and his thrusts had you shaking. You both shared an orgasm. He filled you up and held you close. He picked you up cause you could barely stand straight and laid you down in bed.

"Your guardian angel to the rescue"

You slapped his arm

"You read my sketchbook!" Your face turned red from the embarrassment.

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95

@ebsmind @hopetookourvibe @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @poppetbaby02 @bitchyglittersuit @marley1773

@jacobscipioswoman @sunrisesfromthewest

@midnightheat

[spotsandsocks]

Hiii spotty 💕💕💕

🎃 + dawn/sunrise

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn, managed to use both words here and it got a little longer at nearly 1k. A little angsty but not too bad. Hope you enjoy. Thank for inspiring me.

“Wondered where you went.”

A quick glance over his shoulder reveals that Hen has that kind of look on her face. Buck looks away quickly, he’s not ready to talk but she already knows that, she’s Hen after all.

The unpleasant scrape of metal on concrete makes him wince as Hen settles down in one of the chairs they use up here. It’s clear she intends to wait him out.

“Don’t worry, no one else is gonna join us.”

That’s not the comfort she thinks it is because it only emphasises who isn’t going to be checking on him and they both know why he can’t and that if he could he wouldn’t need checking up on in the first place. Ironic huh.

The edge of the weather beaten brick beneath his fingers is rough and catches at his skin. The texture and prickle of pain gives him something to focus on other than the reason he’s hiding up here.

“Bobby says come down when you’re ready, but that you don’t have to be ready anytime soon, he said it’s ok to take a minute, it was a rough call.”

It was.

“Eddie said you’d be up here, told me to tell you he’d be here as soon as Chim is done with him, we thought, well he thought I should keep you company until he can.

How considerate of him. Deliberately relaxing his suddenly tense jaw and dropping his shoulders Buck breathes through the surge of anger Eddie sending Hen to check up on him generates. Hen wouldn’t need to be keeping him company if the company he should have after a call hadn’t been so fucking stupid that he needed a full check up and time to convince Chim and Bobby that a trip to the hospital wasn’t required.

“I’m fine.”

He can’t look at her while he lies, not that it matters much, Hen won’t believe him anyway, hell he doesn’t believe him and she’s a lot smarter than he is.

He hears her snort of amusement and she doesn’t even try to hide the sacrasam in her voice,

“Oh I can tell. Totally fine.”

Eyes fixed firmly on what little of the horizon he can see through the LA skyline, the changing quality of light makes it clear that sunrise is just around the corner, a new day is beckoning. It’s a new day that might not have had Eddie in it.

He shuts his eyes but that’s no help because he just sees it all again. The chain of events that rushed past him and led to the accident.

“How’s he doing?”

Addressing the question to the air he doesn’t need to see her face to know what expression is on it.

“It’s not actually as bad as it looked, most of the blood wasn’t even his.”

The words spark another memory and he uses techniques he’s been taught to fight off a fierce wave of nausea. He changes the subject. It’s easier that way.

“I like it up here. It’s quiet. Sometimes I come up and watch the sunrise when I can’t sleep.”

She lets him have a moment of peace then breaks it.

“He didn’t mean to scare anyone, especially you, you know that right?”

He keeps his eyes on the approaching dawn and stays quiet.

“It’s our job. You know that too.”

It is. He does. Doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’ve done the same. Worse even.”

Also true. Also unhelpful. He knows how to spell hypocrite with only four letters without her help.

“It’s going to be hard, you both knew that, but it’ll be harder if you’re not there when it matters. I know that much.”

Her words hit him hard. What if he hadn’t been there. What if they had moved to different shifts or worse stations. What if he’d heard about it later and it hadn’t worked out as well as it had. What if he’d always have to wonder if he could have saved his husband if he’d been there.

Well he was there and he’d stayed calm even if he’d been more terrified than he’d ever been. He’d done what they promised Bobby they’d do. Their job. He’d listened to his Captain, followed his commands. He’d done exactly what Bobby had said. He’d helped get Eddie out of the mess he was in.

It becomes a little easier to breathe.

“Cap says you handled it well. Did your job. He’s proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too.”

He turns his back on the sunrise because it’s not Hen’s voice this time. His eyes fall on the grazes on his cheek, the deeper cut on his forehead that Chim has treated. He notes every one of the bruises forming on the skin that’s visible and knows there will be more under his clothes that he’ll check later. He looks tired and worried and he’s still far more beautiful than any dawn Buck has ever seen.

Hen’s vanished. It’s just him and his husband, dealing with the aftermath of their first real trauma since they got together.

“Am I forgiven?”

He doesn’t answer just crosses the rooftop to him as fast as he can and holds on, probably too tightly judging by the small sound he makes but Eddie hugs back just as tightly regardless.

“You did your job. Nothing to forgive.”

Eddie kisses his cheek softly, the tension in him vanishing. He sounds relieved.

“So did you, I’m glad you were there.”

He’s not ready to let go yet, and Eddie understands that, so they stay there a while longer, holding each other both remembering the day they shook hands and agreed they could maybe have each other's back.

Today wasn’t the first time they kept that promise and it won’t be the last, it will be hard for them both but they belong beside each other and Buck wouldn’t have it any other way. No matter the cost.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Stealing Kisses

(Actors from The Boys in the Boat)

Joe Rantz, Don Hume, Bobby Moch, George (Shorty) Hunt

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A collection of kissing scenes. Might write something for Chuck Day later, we’ll see, anyway, got carried away with Don, I would die for Bobby

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz:

Joe is a gentleman. He plans it’s out, wanting to take you on a decent date beforehand to set the mood and feel out just how much you like him. He doesn’t have money or a nice apartment or cooking skills for that matter. What he does have is his strength and his smarts.

So he takes you for a boat ride one sunny afternoon. He brings his guitar, opting for a little less country than the banjo, and paddles you out to a secluded spot. Despite his protest, you brought a basket full of treats and you talk as you share them under the hot sun.

His blond curls become waves of amber grain in the sunlight. After a while you fall into a comfortable silence which gives him the opportunity to pull out his guitar. Now he’s been planning this date for a little while so he picked some new songs to memorize. Sweet and romantic but not too lovey dovey. Though he doesn’t hide the fact that he loves country music.

As he strums his guitar he catches you intently staring at him. You look at him with so much affection that it makes him blush and stutter and he forget the words to his song.

“You’re cute, Joe.”

It makes him laugh so much he has to stop playing entirely. You tease him, enjoying his laughter.

After he recovers you both decide to venture out onto land. Wild flowers grow along the banks in great colorful bunches. Joe begins collection some, blue and purple and white and yellow, and he begins to weave them together.

It’s a special trick he learned while he lived alone, cutting and clearing trees for a living. During his breaks he taught himself to do this. The braid the delicate flower stems into bracelets and rings and crowns.

Joe makes the finest crown his has ever managed. He carefully lays the creation on your head and tucks away any loose strands of hair. ‘You’re gorgeous’ he wants to say. If he was a little more gutsy he would.

His hands trail down to cradle your cheeks. He’s not gutsy enough to tell you you’re pretty but for some reason he has the gall to lean down and kiss you.

His lips are a little chapped from rowing practices, the heavy breathing dropping his jaw and the wind biting his lips. But they’re gentle and sweet. Joe soaks up the private moment and rests his forehead on yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and sways back and forth with you. He starts singing again and you dance together in the afternoon sun.

Don Hume:

Let’s be honest here, you’re more likely to kiss him first. You simply make him too nervous to even find the coordination to plant his lips over yours.

After their first win, Don is dragged out to celebrate. Luckily his sweetheart of a few weeks now is already there. You’re happy to see Don out and about whether or not he likes it. Bobby flashes you a wink as he pushes Don into a chair next to you.

It’s too loud. You can’t hear a word the other says. In a blinding moment of courage, Don takes your hand and pulls you out of the hall. His calloused palm is sweaty. His fingers tremble between yours. You remember him first approaching you, Bobby pushing him forward and then abandoning him at your library table.

“Hey, you’re Don Hume right? From the rowing team, right?”

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“What can I do for you, Don?”

His tongue had gone dry. Where are his words? His mouth dropped open “I—” you smiled at him and it made everything worse.

“C’mon, Don!” You heard Bobby whisper shout, a collection of the rowing team has amassed behind a bookshelf, quietly cheering him on.

“Can-can I takeyouonadate?”

He panicked and cursed himself out, thinking he spoke too fast and you don’t catch what he said and now he’s going to have to ask all over again.

“I’d love to go on a date.” Your smile brightened and Don’s shoulders drooped in relief.

He still stutters asking you on dates now.

Don finds himself walking you across campus grounds and the pale light of the moon. “You did so good, Don, in your race.”

“Thanks.” He speaks so softly the whistle of the night breeze in the leaves is almost louder. He turns to you, catching your gaze first and then blushing and nervously glancing down at your lips.

He’s never kissed anyone before, but he thinks he wants to kiss you.

There’s a comfortable silence that fills the space between your faces. Don’s eyes keep flickering to your Cupid’s bow. To that perfect curve. He starts to say something but his words leave him again as he feels soft lips shutting his mouth.

His lips are rough, worn from the blustering winds. He smells faintly of sweat and the river water that sprays up from the churning oars.

Don can hardly think enough to kiss you back. He blinks, stunned and you lean in to kiss him again and again. He’s overwhelmed by the warmth of your lips and the velvet soft press of your tongue. His shaking hands clutch at your cheeks, trying to ensure that it doesn’t end.

“Don, baby—”

“Kiss me again, please.”

There’s a smile on your lips when you wrap your arms around him. “Only if you promise to dance with me.”

“Yes, yes, okay. Just…”

This time he kisses first.

Bobby Moch:

Bobby is a confident man. He maybe shorter than your average guy but his boldness makes up for it. But I also think you’d kiss him first.

You’re waiting for him to finish up practice, your routine being to go on a long walk and let Bobby blow off some steam before studying together and then going home. Bobby emerges from the shell house, clearly bothered, but he can’t help his smile when he sees you waiting on a bench with two warm cups of tea in your hand.

“Good evening, lovely, should we go to the library or the bridge?”

You hand him a cup and take his free hand. “I think… the library would be nice.”

“Me too.”

He squeezes your hand. He starts his rant and angrily blabbers on until you’re at the steps of the library. Somehow, between all his complaining, he’s managed to chug his whole cup of tea.

The library is fairly empty at this hour. Most students having given up on studying for the day and retired to either their dorms or gone off to work. Bobby drops his bag onto a secluded sofa and the two of you sit down for a nice, quiet study date.

While Bobby reads over his textbook chapter, you notice things about him. The wrinkle that forms on his forehead when he's focused. The tilt of his eyebrows. How his lips purse. You notice the tiny blemishes on his cheeks; they were once little nicks or pimples that he picked. You keep stealing glances of him. Absolutely fascinated by the way lamplight reflects off his skin or the curve of his jaw or the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallows. He hadn't really bothered to straighten out his hair after his shower and it's dried wild, tickling his face.

Bobby catches your gaze and it's stunning, how light pools in his eyes. How his irises brighten. His gives you an adoring look and returns to pouring over his textbook.

Then there's his lips. They look so soft and they're so gently rounded they look hand carved. Occasionally he'll lick his lips and you get a flash of tongue and white teeth. At some point you decide to just go for it. You've been dreaming of kissing Bobby for some time now but he's been content to let you take things at your own pace.

You reach of his textbook, "Need something?" Bobby asks genuinely. His gaze is uncharacteristically kind. He's always yelling at the top of his lungs or bossing around or saying something snappy. That's just Bobby. So why does he look at you like this? Like he's watching the sun rise.

"Yes, actually." And then you deliver a kiss to his lips. Bobby is caught off guard and before he can really even kiss you back, you're pulling away. "Sorry--"

"Don't even think about it." Bobby quips, "Get back here." He cups the juncture of your jaw and throat to bring you in but you hide in his palm. "Finish what you started. C'mon. Don't you feel like trying it again? I'm ready."

When your lips touch again Bobby is gentle in making it last. He never presses too hard but be doesn't let you shy away again either. He kisses you until the taste of him has stained your tongue and the oxygen is gone from your lungs.

George "Shorty" Hunt:

Sly dog, this one is.

George is highly tactical(he likes to think so) and because he’s so brilliant he hatched a perfect plan to get you to kiss him. He wants to see how bold you can be.

He makes three plans, two of which fail. They go like this. The first time he tries it, you’re walking him to practice. His jacket is slung over his shoulder and he’s telling you about his engineering class. “You know there’s this term we use called osculate which is where the curve of on surface meets the curve over another and they share a common tangent.” You raise a brow. Shorty licks his lips, “It’s also formal code for kissing.”

“Don’t even—” you swat at him and push him towards the shell house. “Go practice and share a tangent with Day!”

“Hey now,” Shorty pouts and disappears into the shell house, defeated. That was attempt 1. The second attempt hardly goes better.

It’s the night after their first win and Shorty is dancing with you. His nerdy pick up lines proved to be a failure so he goes for building some good old fashion romance. He’d gotten you flowers and taken you out for dinner before he brought you here where the music is so loud it blocks out everyone else around you.

Now you’re slow dancing, cheeks pressed together, hands laced with one another. The first thing you notice is that he smells good. You have no idea if he’s wearing cologne or if it’s the soap he uses to wash his clothes but he smells divine. The second thing is how soft his hands are despite the wear and tear of the pad. The third is that he didn’t put any product in his hair. You’ve always loved to play with the dark curls and fluff it up. But sometimes he styles his curls and the products make his hair stiff. But his curls are free today which tells you he’s been thinking about you and all the things you do.

“Watcha smilin’ about?” Shorty asks, his eyes light up as he smiles back. He hopes you’re thinking about it. He hopes you’re wanting to kiss him.

You plant your hands on his chest, “Nothing, you just make me happy.” It’s quite possibly quite possibly the nicest compliment he’s ever received. And then you rise up on your toes a place a kiss on his cheek. It’s not what he expected but he’s as pleased as ever.

The third and actually successful attempt is on the train before he leaves for Poughkeepsie. You’d arrived late and missed him boarding. You force your way to the train and look through the window. George sees you and throws the window open. “I was afraid you weren’t coming!” He shouts of the chatter. He’d actually been heartbroken.

“Had trouble getting here!”

“Can I…” you don’t catch what he says.

“What!”

Shorty smiles and shakes his head. He turns and gestures for something. He opens the window as far as he can and you see Chuck and Johnny behind him. And then George is falling out of the window. First his shoulders and chest and then his hips and your almost scream but Chuck and Johnny are holding his thighs. He wedges one hand on the window sill to support himself and the other reaches for you.

He pulls you as close as he can and gives you a kiss goodbye. “I’ll come home with a gold medal!” Don’t you worry!” The people who notice give him a cheer and a laugh as he’s pulled back into the train. He blows you one last kiss and then the train starts rolling.

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Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this piece please be sure to check out my masterlist and if you want to request something you are more than welcome to. Have a nice day.

- the author