#he’s dumb as a tone of bricks and I can say that bc I am also

[epic-sorcerer]

“Arthur can totally dress himself he’s just spoiled” why are you giving him that much credit

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

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Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: If I Loved You Less I Could Talk About It More

Hey haii. Soooo.. This is kind of a follow up to the one I answered last night - I know right, it’s about goddamn time. Again, I’m so, so so so so sorry. I really am. -  which can be found [ here] if you want to backtrack and read that so this one maaaybe makes sense bc I cannot entirely vouch that it does in fact make sense without the one I just linked above.

I had such a blast writing this and I am kinda v. happy with the way it came out even if it’s just a little weird? I’m starting to dig first person.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @xwicker-manx  | @rampagewriting | @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure | @writertoo18 | @dietwrestling | @cowboyshit | @cabotcoves | @heelsamizayn | @adampage | @unabashedwrestlefics | @missjenniferb | - if anyone else wants to be tagged in my wrestling fics, go here and add yourself. 

Jon Moxley isn’t a talker by any stretch of the word. He’s more of a doer. The words, without actions behind them, are hollow and meaningless to him. 

I’ve known this for a while now. It’s not hard to figure out about him at all. It’s actually kind of obvious and definitely something one can appreciate about the man, when he’s not driving them to the goddamn brink of insanity.

What I can’t figure out is why in the seven blue hells he’s suddenly being so nice to me. Up to our encounter in the elevator a few weeks back? Guy hated me.

I was nothing to him, just some poor little princess trapped in an ivory tower. Or a toy, only meant to be played with. He’s openly said as much on numerous occasions.

Lately, it seems as if everywhere I am, he’s there. Arms crossed, all brooding and angry in some back corner, tapping his foot impatiently or holding up his wrist to indicate passage of time, kind of like some grumpy bodyguard or god forbid, a chaperone... Or sitting ringside, watching whatever match I happen to be in, a smirk on his face the entire time.

Literally no one can get me to themselves because of this... Especially not Maxwell, which believe me, the pathetic prick has actually been dumb enough to try and do, on more than one occasion. You’d think me, throwing the shit he left at my place into the pool below my balcony would’ve been a really clear hint I was absolutely fucking done being his late night booty call. Nope, apparently not.

But back to Mox, though. Mox is the reason I’m torn between anger and sheer unbridled sexual frustration as of late, and here’s why...

I don’t know what bothers me more… the fact that I can’t figure out why he gives a damn, - or if he even does, who knows with that guy? -  or the fact that deep down, it secretly turns me on. I’ve never really had someone just… attach themselves to me willingly, for lack of a better term.

But then, tonight… Tonight, Maxwell managed to get me to myself, corner me up backstage.

His eyes darted around the hallway. “Look at this. You drove away your self appointed guard dog. Are you ready to admit you miss all of this, kitten?”

“Did hell freeze over in the last ten minutes, Maxwell?”

“I’m the best you’re gonna have. This bizarre thing you and Mox have going on is just you, passing time. C’mon, kitten. Think about it. Do you really think he’s capable of half the things I could give you?”

“He’s got a cock, so I mean… yeah. Pretty much the only thing you were good for was sex when the batteries to my vibrator died.”

He eyed me. For a split second I smirked because it almost seemed as if I hurt him with my words. I know better than that, but I needed my moment of victory. Then he stepped closer, a hand ghosting down my side. “You know you want me back. You need me, princess.”

“I don’t need anybody, actually.” I corrected, feigning a yawn and rolling my eyes at Maxwell.

“Right, that’s why you’re letting Mox follow you around.” the sour expression on his face as he looked at me was worth a million words. But I rolled my eyes and reminded myself that the only reason he’s even choosing this hill to die on is because I ditched him first and in Maxwell’s mind? That’s a no go.

I know his type well. I was brought up with them. Bunch of mouth breathing elitist bitch boys. I’ve realized since our thing ended that Maxwell -and pretty much any man of his type, they aren’t what I want anymore. I don’t know what I do want, true but… I have a very clearly defined idea of what I don’t want and won’t fuck with or tolerate now.

“No, I’m not letting him do anything, everybody knows Mox does exactly what Mox wants. However, I’m not stopping him, either. Maybe he has me curious. Maybe, Maxwell,” I leaned in a little, lowering my voice and laughing softly as I continued, “Maybe I’m tired of being goddamn bored to death by prissy little bitch ass pretty boys. Besides, in the end, guys like you always leave. Your type are dogs. Always looking to get your dick wet and moving on once you find a sparkly new bitch you can wrap around your finger and bend to your will... Maybe I want more. Something real. Maybe Mox could be that. Maybe, Maxwell.. Maybe I want him. That’s really what burns you up, isn’t it?” I hoped he’d get the point, or get bored, and fuck off and away.

Naturally, he didn’t. And he started to talk himself up all over again. Tried reminding me of his version of our ‘good times.’

I gave an annoyed snort and butted in. “Says the man who refused to take me anywhere. Who insisted we couldn’t be seen together. Why the hell do you think I’d even begin to want you back? Sex was all you could offer and frankly? I’ve had better.”

He swore and glared at me angrily.

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“May be. But I’m not a dumb bitch anymore, now am I?” I said it in a mock sweet tone, laughing at him as I turned and prepared to walk away. 

“I was done with you anyway. I just wanted to give you one last chance to see reason.”

I held up my middle finger at him as I walked away, backwards. When I crashed into someone, I turned around, a glare at the ready.

Mox was smirking down at me. As his eyes roamed my body slowly, I felt something shifting in the dynamic between us. And it hit me then… That stuff I said to Maxwell?

I wasn’t just saying it.

I actually fucking meant it. With every single fibre of my being.

I gulped under his intense round of eye-fucking and i did my best to stay calm. To not be so obvious at the way my thighs clenched and god forbid, remember to breathe. He stepped closer, rough hand grasping at my hip, hauling me against him.

“Did I not tell ya to stay in the fuckin locker room? He only gets to ya because ya fuckin let him, woman. Then again,” Mox muttered in a dry tone, “You’d argue with a fuckin brick wall, I think. Stay here.”

His firm tone didn’t do anything to help out the situation I found myself in currently, dripping wet and so frustrated by what I’d just figured out that I honestly just wanted to shove him against a wall and rip off his clothes.

He eyed me, a brow raised. “The fuck is that little smirk for, huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” I shrugged, giggling. 

“Stay here.” he repeated, even more firmly this time, stepping so close to me that he towered over me and our bodies brushed against each other lightly.

Jesus, the way it felt, lightly pressed against him.

He spent a second or two grumbling and glaring, then he turned and stormed off, right through the curtains separating the back of the arena from the front.

It hit me then, MJF had just gone down. Literally just. As in he was still walking down the runway.

Curious, I made my way over to the curtains, pulling them just so that I could peek through a little and when I saw it, I barely restrained a whimper… I could hear every single word Mox said as he lunged at Maxwell from behind.

And it had me fidgeting, pacing the hallway and trying to puzzle out just what the hell was going on the entire time Mox was down in the ring, beating Maxwell’s ass all around it.

Mox stormed back through the curtains and I didn’t think, I just ran. Climbing the man like a tree, dragging my fingers over his close shaven scalp and wrapping my legs around him tight. He growled, nearly dropped me, but I felt his fingertips digging into my body and he staggered back a little, putting my back against the wall.

“This mean you’re ready for a real man, princess?” his voice a low husky growl against my lips as I smirked against his mouth and nodded my head, pressing my forehead against his. 

“It took me a while to figure you out, Mox… But now, I think I know exactly what you’re all about. So yes.. to answer your question, maybe I am ready for a real man, Mox.”

“Oh you do, huh? Gonna explain or do I gotta guess?” he smirked back.

“I like it better this way. Actions are better than words. Less talking, Mox. More kissing.” I breathed against his mouth, rubbing myself against him as he carried me towards the door leading out into the arena parking lot...

[babybuckleydiaz]

Can you write something where Buck deals with all the trauma that came from the thoughtst of losing his family. Like he thought he lost Chris in the tsunami, then he thought he is gonna lose Bobby bc he is gonna get ill, then Maddie when the dispatch center was taken,and finally he thought he was gonna lose Eddie too. And it was just all too much and he started falling apart but firefam notices and helps him through

Warnings: swearing, insomnia, mentions of the therapist from season one, nightmares, spoilers. established buddie, hurt comfort.

Okay, so it’s currently 4am and I’ve finally finished this after so long. It’s a long one, my guys. Its about 6k words long. And I’m not happy with some of it, but I haven’t posted a prompt fill in ages so I really wanted to get this out. I really did enjoy writing it though, in more of a 5 +1 style. So, thank you so much for the prompts and I am so sorry if it’s not at all what you wanted, but I really hope that you like it. Thank you so much for reading, guys

also on ao3, since this is a long fic

BOBBY

  “Hey, kid. Go get some rest.” When the order comes, Bobby voice is nothing but gentle and concerned with a hand resting on Buck’s shoulder, eyes searching the younger’s man face with something akin to worry. The team wasn’t even half way through a twenty four hour shift, and today has been nothing but exhausting call after exhausting call; it was obvious to even the untrained eye that the younger firefighter was overflowing with a bone deep tiredness. And for a moment, Bobby thinks that Buck is going to agree with him and do as is asked; but all he receives is a small shake of the head.

  “Nah, Cap. I’m not tired.” The excuse is weak to even Buck’s ears, and it’s obvious by the raised eyebrow that he gets that Bobby doesn’t believe a word that he is saying; the worry growing tenfold. The circles under Buck’s eyes are dark and deep, movements still as his limbs screamed for a moment of anything similar to rest; mind already having gone into overdrive. “I slept earlier.” Bobby isn’t stupid, he’s far from it, and he’s able to see exactly what the younger man is doing. Buck knows that Bobby is able to read him easily, can see when he’s lying but he’s giving his Captain a chance to just forget about this conversation and sweep it under the rug. No way in hell was Bobby going to do that though, not when it would put lives, including Buck’s own, in risk by allowing an exhausted firefighter on the front line.

  “We both know that’s bullshit, son.” Bluntly expressed Bobby, and he sees how Buck’s shoulder’s sag and his entire body seems to deflate at the breath of laughter that escapes his lips. “Talk to me, Buck. What’s going on?” Buck looks up from where he had shifted his attention to the ground, and he’s searching Bobby face for any sign that he doesn’t mean to concern that is obvious in his voice when he speaks. But he finds nothing but worry on the face of his Captain, but he shakes his head as he paints a sad and small smile across his face.

  “Its fine, Bobby. I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

  Bobby wasn’t going to let it go because he could see as clear as day that whatever was going on in Buck’s head was affecting him, and as someone who loves the kid like family he can’t allow him to continue like this. “It’s a bit late for that, kiddo. You’re family and I’m always going to worry.” Explained Bobby in a tone that he didn’t regret letting this firehouse become a home, that he loved being able to come into work and being around people he loved and he knew loved him. And he worried about each and every one of them; nothing would or could ever change that. It was his job, as a Captain and as a friend to each of them.

  “It’s stupid; I’m gonna go take that nap.” But Bobby could see straight through the lie that Buck had just told, that the younger man wouldn’t sleep and would instead be staring at the ceiling until the alarm blared through the firehouse. “Buck…” Bobby didn’t want to drop the conversation when something was obviously wrong, but he knew that if he kept pushing that Buck could completely close off; and that was something that he didn’t want to happen. “Look, Bobby.” Began the younger man, an understanding yet strained smile on his face, and Bobby misses the ones where Buck smiles as brightly as the sun.

  “I know you’re concern, and I appreciate it, but I’m okay. I’m dealing with it.”

  Bobby had no idea what ‘it’ would even begin to be, but whatever it was, it was clear to see that Buck wasn’t dealing with it at all; at least not in a way that could be considered healthy. Bobby was certain that even a blind man would be able to see that Buck was struggling with whatever was going on in that head of his. And the older man won’t lie, it’s killing him to know that Buck feels as though this is something he can’t get help for, that he feels like he has to bury and pretend that it isn’t there. “You’re not dealing with anything, son.”

  Buck freezes as he sighs, because Bobby’s tone isn’t even remotely judgemental or annoyed at the brick wall he’s seemed to hit in this conversation; instead it filled with an understanding and worry for the younger man. There’s nothing but silence between the two men for a moment, Bobby praying to anyone who would listen that the man in front of him would reach out for the help that he so obviously needed but wasn’t going to seek out on his own. “I’ll be fine, Cap.” And when Buck had spoken his tone was tired, sounded far too wrecked for someone of his age but Bobby can’t blame him, because Buck has seen far too much and been through more in his short life.

  “Just…” Bobby begins, pausing and allowing his voice to trail off for a moment as he thinks about what to say, what could he possibly say anyway to help the man he loved as his own son? “Just try and get some sleep, please?” It what he settles on, because there isn’t much he can do when Buck won’t open up to him, but the most he can do is allow the kid to know that he cares and he’s in his corner should the younger man need him. And Buck can understand what he means through the words, Bobby can tell. Because the smile that Buck sends him may be small and tired, but it’s real and shows his appreciation for what his Captain was trying to achieve here.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Watching him go, Bobby doesn’t even bothering admitting to the younger man that he can tell Buck wasn’t going to even begin to try and allow his mind the peacefulness of rest; he remains silent. “Damn it, kid.” Bobby curses silently, wishing that there had been something more he could have done or said that would have allowed the kid to feel as though he could share whatever was troubling him.

  Because whatever that was bothering the firefighter was drowning him, and it’s was clear to the captain that Buck was struggling to stay afloat of his own thoughts; they we’re ruining him. Briefly, Bobby finds himself wondering if Athena would have had any more luck had she been in this conversation, if anyone else would have gotten the other man to open up and share what was holding him down.

HEN

  “Come on, man. Talk to me.” There’s a pleading done in Hen’s voice when she speaks, taking the time to wait for a moment where it could just be her and Buck alone. They’re currently in front of their fire truck, restocking the medical supply when Hen decides that she’s finally try and get to the bottom of whatever was weighing the younger man down. In response to what had been said, Buck just sighs as he stops whatever he is doing, placing the bandages that he had in his hand onto the truck; barely looking at Hen when he faces her.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Hen.” That’s a lie, and Hen knows that Buck is aware that she isn’t dumb nor would she fall for what he had said to her. “I’m perfectly fine.” He added on, seeing her disbelieving look when he finally raises his head to meet her eyes, giving her a smile that would convince anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did. Buck is her best friend, someone that means the world to her and she was able to read the younger man like an open book without ever really trying. “I’m not blind, Buck. I know you, and I can see something is killing you, man.” She explained in a tone softer that what she would usually use, but this is serious and Hen wants Buck to know that he can talk to her about anything plaguing his troubled mind.

  “Hen, I’m fine. I don’t need to make everything about me.”

  That silences Hen for a moment as she frowns deeply at the other man standing in front of her, because there was more meaning behind his words that what Buck was even aware of. And all Hen can think about is the number of times people have accused Buck of making everything about himself; and how fucking wrong they were to event think that.

  But Buck is allowed to be selfish, to do things simply because he wants them for himself. There is nothing wrong with that and it’s so perfectly human of him to do for once. She inwardly winces; because the last time Buck had done something to benefit him had been when he filed the lawsuit; something she strongly sided with him about. He was being kept from his job and he had every single right to fight like damn hell to get back to it. “It’s not selfish to unburden yourself by talking to a friend.” Responds Hen, not really knowing what else she could have said to try and get her point across.

  “Look Buck, I love you.” She adds on, stepping forward and reaching out to take one of Buck’s hands tightly within her own, not mentioning that she can feel them tremble in her grip. “And I know that something is going on, okay? And I want to help you because you’re my family.” Buck is looking at her now, the faintest trace of a frown on his brows as he bites into his lower lip in thought. “I want to help you because I love you so much.” She concluded gently, an encouraging smile gracing her face as she pulls her friend into a hug.

  She can feel how Buck seems to melt into her touch, body completely sagging as he wraps arms around her in response to the action.

  “I-I’m fine.” And this time when he says it, Hen can see that he is talking to himself instead of her; forcing himself to believe it the more that he said it. “You’re not, and you’re allowed to not be okay.” Whispered Hen, something that only Buck could hear because it was meant for his ears only. “And it’s okay to ask for help, to reach out to someone else.” Buck nods against her shoulder, sighing as he pulls away from the safety of his friend’s arms and gives Hen the tiniest and saddest smile she has ever seen on his face.

  “It’s just… I-“ Shaking his head and laughing something humourless, reaching up to rub angrily at his eyes when he felt tears burn in them, he stops himself speaking.

  “I’m scared.” Buck’s voice sounds so broken at his own admission, choked up and small. Hen looks at him then, really looks at him and sees the tears in his eyes and the trembling of his hands. “Scared? Of what, Buckaroo?” She pries patiently, her words free of judgement and waiting for Buck to gather his own thoughts. But Buck stays silent for a while, for a long moment that Hen thinks he’s going to clam up and brush off his own declining mental health like he’s being doing for so long now. But still, Hen waits.

  Buck Hen never gets to hear what Buck as going to say when he opens his mouth to speak, because it’s in that moment that the alarms decide to sound, jolting the both of them out of their moment. “Forget it, I’m fine.” Buck quickly brushes off, closing up the truck against and making his way towards his turnout uniform with hurried steps, and Hen can’t help but curse every God in existence for that. She knows that had been the only chance she had for Buck to talk to her, and that moment had been taken away before she could get any answers.

  “Fuck!” She hisses angrily, the annoyance on her face as she runs up to get prepared as well while thinking about what Buck was going to admit; what would he be scared of?

CHIMNEY

  “Hey, did you get any sleep?” The concern is clear in Chimney’s voice when he sits up in his bunk, eyes having gone straight to Buck’s and seeing the man in the same position as hours ago. On his back, arms behind his head and eyes staring at the ceiling but unseeing; the clear need for sleep written all over his face despite it all. And it worries him, because it’s clear that the man he loves like a little brother is struggling and suffering; and despite his nature of jest and laughter, Chimney found himself so concerned.

  At the sound of the sudden whisper, being mindful of the still sleeping Hen and Eddie, Buck shifts his eyes to find Chimney looking at him with a deep frown. Shrugging his shoulders, Buck pushes himself into a sitting position, running a hand down his face and through his hair. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” Frowning deeply at what had been his answer, Chimney moves to sit on the vacant space on Buck’s bunk; wanting to talk about this while he had the chance. “Hey, what’s going on? What do you mean, you don’t know?” Chimney presses, unsure if he’s asking as a friend or as a paramedic concerned about someone’s health. He doesn’t know, maybe it could be both.

  “I dozed off, I think. But I just… can’t sleep.” There’s more to it than that, Chimney is well aware. But for now, he’s going to work with the information that Buck is giving him and dig a little deeper to try and find some more. “Come on, kid. Talk to dear old big brother Chimney.” The older man smiled, and he feels some little sentiment of relief when Buck snorts at his joke and rolls his eyes with something akin to a happy expression. “Oh shut up, man.” Responds the younger, leaning over and shoving his friend on the shoulder that Chimney barely reacts to, because now that he’s looking at his friend he sees the thinks that Hen had been talking about.

  Buck looks absolutely exhausted, skin paler than normal with permanently tired eyes and dark circles to match.

  “Jeez, buckaroo. When what the last time you actually slept?” And just like that, Buck’s smile drops from his face and instead is replaced with a deep straight line; the younger man sighing as he shakes his head. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue.” Buck’s honest, it’s clear that he’s tired of struggling with whatever is going on in that big old head of his. “I… I’ve tried! But I can’t sleep because every single night is filled with fucking nightmares, Chim.” Chimney nods his head to show that he is listening, wants Buck to see that he can talk and someone will take in what he is saying.

  “What about? It might help to talk about them.” He offers, being the ear for Buck to rant in if that’s what he needs to feel better. Buck smiles softly as he leans back against the wall, letting his head fall back against it as he takes a deep breath. “Losing everyone.”

  That throws Chimney into complete silence, and he isn’t ashamed to admit that the tone in Buck’s voice breaks his heart right in two. Because he sounds so lost and so small, and in that moment all Chimney wants to do is wrap him up and make sure that nothing can ever hurt him. “Sometimes, it’s Bobby being sick. Or you’re stabbing. Or the rebar incident.” Whispers Buck, not looking at Chimney when he speaks now, head tipped back against the wall and eyes shut when he speaks. “Or… Or it’s Eddie stuck under the ground, a-and I can’t save him.” When Buck mentions Eddie, Chimney doesn’t seem fazed or even mention how Buck’s voice cracks.

  He watches as Buck instead turns his head to look at his boyfriend asleep on the other bunk, and it’s obvious that he’s taking in the fact that Eddie is still breathing and beside him. “Chris gets taken away from me in those, and… and I can’t lose you guys.” Buck pauses as he looks back at his friend. “Or when Doug took Maddie, that fear that she’s going to die is constantly replaying in my head.”

  Chimney now finally understands what has been troubling his friend, that he’s being drowned by the memories of almost losing those that he loved. Briefly, Chimney wonders if that is something that should have been obvious to the team from the start. Chimney is quiet for a moment as he leans forward, placing a hand on Buck’s knee and looking his friend in the eyes with an encouraging smile. “Hey, you’re not going to lose any of us. You’re not going to be alone.” The tone that Chimney uses is confident when he speaks, because he knows that everyone here would never leave each other if they could help it.

  “You can’t promise that, though!” Harshly whispered Buck and Chimney can see that it isn’t anger that he’s speaking with, it’s fear and desperation that causes his eyes to fill with tears. And Chimney remains silent as he thinks about what to say to Buck’s outburst, because he can’t promise that with the job that they have and the dangers that come hand in hand with it.

  “Look, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.” Buck quickly brushes off when Chimney remains silent, knowing that the older man doesn’t know what he can say right now. Pushing himself up, Buck gets up from the bunk with the intention to do something else to distract his own mind. “Buck, wait. Talk to me, man. You can’t keep burying this hoping it will go away.” Chimney pleads, not wanting Buck to bury an issue like this and pretends that something is eating him alive; his friend is in mental pain and he doesn’t know what he can do to help right now. “Chim, don’t. I’m fine, I’m always fucking fine.” Once again, Chimney can’t sense nor hear any anger when he speaks despite sounding like it’s there, and that is enough to make his heart clench to painfully in his chest.

  He can only sit there, watching Buck walk away from him with a sad and worried expression.

MADDIE

  “Oh Ev…” Maddie voice is so quiet when he walks into her living room, finding her little brother asleep on the couch, wrapped so tightly under blankets she gave him. She notes that he doesn’t look peaceful either, his face scrunched up as he pants out roughly, hands tightly gripping the blanket as he makes a something akin to a whimper of fear. Quickly, she moves over and kneels beside the couch as he places a hand on her little brother’s shoulder, waking him up from whatever nightmare he finds himself trapped in.

  “Hey, Buck. You gotta wake up, buddy.” She instructs softly, shaking the younger man’s shoulders with a frown of her own; hearing Buck mumble something out but not being able to understand what he’s saying. He sounds scared though, so scared that it breaks Maddie’s chest to hear such a tone come from someone who everyone sees as so strong. And he is, oh god is he so strong and brave, but he’s also human. “Come on, you’re okay. You gotta wake up, Buck.” She insists, shaking Buck’s shoulder just that little bit harder when he doesn’t respond to anything that she tells him. Maddie doesn’t want to scare him into waking up, not when he was already trapped in a nightmare that seemed to be doing that just fine on its own.

  With a gasp, Maddie watches as Buck bolts up right with drastic breaths and eyes wildly looking around his surroundings. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay, you’re with me. You’re okay.” She sooths, moving forward and cupping either side of Buck’s face with hands so gentle, Buck’s eyes snapping to his sister’s face. “I though… I-“ Maddie is never going to hear whatever Buck was going to say, but he cuts himself off with the shake of his head as he puts a hand against his chest, taking deep and calming breaths to sooth his racing heart.

  “Sorry, I’m good.” Buck quickly brushes off, sending his sister a shaky smile as he moves away from her touch and swings his legs over the edge of the couch, laughing at himself pathetically. Maddie shakes her head, having no idea why her little brother would apologize for having a nightmare; that’s not something that he needs to be sorry about. “Hey, don’t apologise, Buck. Are you okay, that seemed pretty bad?” Notes Maddie, brows pinches together as she pushes herself up from the ground and takes a seat beside her brother.

  “Hey, I didn’t wake up screaming, so that’s pretty tame.” Buck says it as a joke to lighten the mood, but instead Maddie just cocks her head when he looks at him for a moment. “Wake up screaming?” She questions, and Buck can’t help but groan for making her more worried than what she already was. “Does that happen often, Buck?” Shaking his head, Buck pushes himself up from the couch and makes his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water, already prepared for Maddie to follow him with questions and concerns she won’t let go of. “Evan, talk to me.” Maddie begs when she does, in fact, follow her brother into the kitchen; not wanting to let this conversation die just yet.

  “Mads, I’m fine. Just drop it, please.” Buck’s voice is pleading, begging, for her to just drop the subject but he’s known Maddie his whole life and knows how stubborn she can be. He inwardly snorts, that’s the one trait that she ever got from their father. “No, I’m not gonna drop it, Evan. I’ve watched for weeks as something has bothered you, I can’t keep letting you pretend that nothing is wrong.” She shoots back, and Buck sighs as he places the glass back onto the bench and leans forward, taking a moment to just breath. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not leaving, Evan. So talk to me.”

  “But you’re not always gonna be here, Maddie!” Buck isn’t entirely sure what he means when he yells those words, turning around to face Maddie who looks shocked and taken aback. “I-I’m not leaving, Evan. I’m not leaving you again.” She promises, and Buck just shakes his head quickly as he reaches up to run a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head for a moment. “You can’t promise that, though! You can’t promise that you’re always gonna be here!” Maddie is silent for a moment, knowing that Buck is talking about when they were growing up and left for college, or when she left after meeting Doug; there’s more to what he’s saying.

  “So what is the point of any of you saying that you’ll always be here when the reality is you can’t promise that?” Maddie can see the tears trailing down her brother’s face, that he angrily scrubs away with a scoff. “I am so sick of fucking crying!” He hisses to himself, beyond worked up and stressed about whatever has been bothering him for the last few weeks.

  “And I am sick of not sleeping because every time I close my eyes, I’m losing you or someone from the team. Or Eddie and Chris. I am so fucking sick that I can’t just ‘get over it’” When Buck utters those last three words, Maddie notes the use of quotation marks with a frown; it’s obvious that they have another meaning to Buck when he says them. “Evan, how long has this been going on?” Maddie questions, tears burning in her own eyes at the thought of her brother suffering so terribly alone. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” Maddie jumps onto the next question when Buck just shrugs when his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the kitchen sink.

  “Because, Maddie, I’m getting over it my own way, I’m fine.” He says once again, wondering how many times he’s said that in the past few weeks; and he’s wondering why he can’t force himself to believe it yet.

  “You’re not dealing with it, though. And you don’t need to deal with it on your own.” Maddie’s voice is soft when she speaks again, and Buck doesn’t even respond to what he had said. “You’re hoping that if you keep saying you’re okay then it’ll come true.”

  “Look I gotta go.” That is how that Maddie knows she’s hit the nail on the head, because Buck just does what he can to get out of the conversation; running away from his own problems so they won’t hurt him. And it causes her to sigh, because when Buck doesn’t think she’s knows she’s hit a dead end and Buck isn’t going to open up any more; despite how much she wishes that he would. “Just…” Maddie allows herself to pauses, because no matter what she says next Buck isn’t going to admit anything else, he’s done with this conversation. “Just drive safely, and text me when you get home.”

  Buck nods his head as he grabs his jacket from where it was sitting on the kitchen island and his shoes before he allows Maddie to pull him into a tight hug, allowing her to hold him for a few moments longer than normal. “I love you, Evan.” She says gently in his ear, pulling away and taking a moment to place a hand on the side of his face; smiling so sadly up at her brother. “Love you, too.” Buck says back, and then Maddie can only watch as her brother walks out the door; a frown on her face the entire time that she watches him go.

EDDIE

  Riddled with sleep, Eddie reaches out to pull Buck’s body closer to his own only for his hands to be met with the cold sheet on the mattress, lacking a certain someone. Opening his eyes tiredly, Edie looks over to see that Buck’s side of the bed is empty and has been for a while, causing the older male to frown in confusion. Groaning as he rolled over, and he looks at the clock that reads three in the morning, far too early for anyone to be up yet. Sighing, Eddie pushes himself up from the bed and begins his trek down the hall, searching for his boyfriend.

  The first place that Eddie thinks to check is the living room, having found Buck there a handful of times in the past when the younger male wasn’t able to sleep; watching whatever was on to distract himself. But when he reaches the room, he’s greeted with the darkness and quietness that shows it’s empty, not even able to make out Buck asleep on the couch. It’s obvious he’s in here and for a moment Eddie frowns, he had really expected his boyfriend to be in here watching television. Biting into his lip, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen in hopes that his boyfriend would be in there, only to be once again proven wrong by no sign of Buck.

  For a moment, Eddie stands in the dark kitchen confused because he doesn’t have that many options left as to where Buck could be; and he can’t help but be worried.

  The firefighter is about to make his way back into the bedroom so he could retrieve his phone and call his boyfriend, only for something to catch his eyes when he begins to walk. He looks over to the direction of the front door and sees it slightly open, the outdoor light flicked on, and he makes his way towards the direction with a frown.

  Opening the door, he sees that Buck is sitting on the steps with a jacket wrapped tightly around his body, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he takes calming deep breaths. “Buck? What are you doing out here, baby?” He questions as he moves to sit down on the steps beside his boyfriend and wraps arm around the younger man’s shoulder to bring him closer to his chest. Buck doesn’t hesitate to lean his head on Eddie’s shoulder and close his eyes, soaking in the comforting that his partner brings him.

  “Woke up an hour ago, couldn’t get back to sleep.” Simply explains Buck, and Eddie can hear the tiredness that drags down Buck’s voice, can hear the roughness in it. “Nightmare?” The older man questions with a light tone, soaking in the cool night air as he holds his loved one close to his body; everything around them is calm and quiet.

  “Mhm.” Is the only confirmation that Buck gives Eddie, the way his response sounded was clear that he didn’t want to talk about his nightmare, and Eddie wasn’t going to pressure him into talking if he didn’t wish to. So he allows them to just sit there in silence, knowing that if Buck wants to talk about his nightmare than his boyfriend was here to listen to him. But Eddie was going to allow his partner to deal with this at his own pace right now, the most he can do and is just be by his side to comfort him.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s head back to bed.” Eddie voices up a few minutes later, looking down and pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s head and waiting for his boyfriend to nod in response. “Okay.” Is the worded answer he gets, but neither of them move for a short moment. Finally, Eddie is the first to move and pulls Buck to his feet by his hands. Eddie smiles when he pulls Buck’s body against his own, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips when the younger man wraps one arm around his neck and the other gripping the front of his shirt.

  Eventually the two make their way into the house, Eddie keeping Buck’s hand tightly within his own as he takes a second to close and lock the front door before they make their way down into the bedroom. On the way, Eddie looks back when he feels how Buck pauses in front of Christopher’s door, biting into his lower lip before sighing and shaking his head to himself. He’s about to walk forward toward their bedroom when Eddie stops him, sending his boyfriend a knowing look as stopping him from walking away. “You wanna check on Chris?” Buck only hesitates for a moment, biting into his lower lip before he nods his head and smiles at his boyfriend gratefully.

  Eddie had guessed when Buck had stopped in front of Christopher’s door that his boyfriend must have had a nightmare about the Tsunami, and he knew that checking on the young boy would help Buck a lot. Eddie can’t even count the number of times he’s found Buck in Christopher’s room, just making sure that the kid was really here after having a nightmare about the Tsunami; it would always help to just make sure that Christopher really was here and safe. “Alright, we can do that.” Eddie says, quietly opening the door and allowing Buck to poke his head into the room.

  The reaction is instant, Eddie watches as Buck’s body seems to melt as the stress and worry leaves his body at the sight of Christopher sleeping soundly, and safe, in his bed. “Come on, you need to get some sleep, love.” Eddie’s voice is filled with nothing but love and patient as he directs the younger man out of the room, Buck following his boyfriend after him without a word.

  Eddie lays down first, allowing Buck to take his time as he crawls into the bed; taking his place curled up against the short of the two men. Eddie lets Buck rest his head against his chest, using the hand of the arm holding Buck to run fingers through his hair, his other hand rubbing up and down Buck’s arm.

  “I’m sick of not being able to sleep, Eds.” Buck suddenly speaks up, and all Eddie can do is holding him just that little bit tighter and closer. “I know, love. I know.” Whispers the older man, because this was a conversation that needed to be have tomorrow, when both of them were more aware and awake. “For now, just close your eyes and listen to my breathing, okay?” Eddie instructs, feeling the younger man nod his head against his chest when the other man moved to lie on his back. “Match my breathing, close your eyes and take some deep breaths.” Eddie’s voice is extremely soothing, and Buck allows himself to close his eyes as he does as is asked of him; taking deep breaths that matches Eddie’s own.

  It takes a while for Buck to be soothed off to sleep, but Eddie doesn’t fall asleep until he feels Buck’s breathing even out and his body sags against him.

  While Eddie wishes that he could have spoken to Buck about everything that’s been going on but he knows that Buck needs all the sleep he can get. So for now, he forgets about everything that he wants to talk about and allows himself to follow his boyfriend to sleep.

EVERYONE

  Athena had been expecting something like this to happen sooner or later, because every time that she saw Buck she could see that the young man was one step closer to just breaking down. And even though the woman had expected it to happen, it doesn’t mean that it didn’t break her heart when she watches Buck sob onto the decking of her backyard.

  The day had started off so nicely, the team being invited over to the Nash-Grant household for a bi-weekly dinner; and everything had been wonderful. And Athena can’t be sure what had started it, or why it was even a conversation. But they were talking about their near death experiences, the entire time Buck had been silent and seemed to have zoned out while everyone jokes and laughed about it. That had been followed by Buck excusing himself as tears slid down his cheeks, only making it to the decking before he had burst into a fit of sobs.

  Everyone seemed to freeze in shock and surprise while Bobby and Eddie moved quickly, the duo running to either side of Buck’s side when the younger man collapsed to his knees as he sobbed. “Hey, shh, shh. Just breath, love. You’re okay.” Eddie whispers, allowing the firefighter to fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend. “I-I can’t lose you guys! I can’t!” Hen moved forward as Buck spoke, eyes filled with compassion and sadness as she sat in front of the fallen man, taking one of his hands tightly into his own, not saying anything but allowing the man to know that she was here for him.

  “We’re all right here, Buckaroo.” Chimney explained as he also moved closer, sitting between Hen and Bobby and placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder, whose crying hasn’t eased up. “We’re here, buddy. We’re still here, we’re with you.” Chimney says again, thinking back to the conversation that he had with Buck and everything the younger man had admitted, his heart breaking when he thinks about how long this has been weighing Buck down.

  “We can’t promise to always be safe, not with our job.” Bobby begins, and places a hand on the back of Buck’s head that coax’s the younger male to look to him with red rimmed eyes. “But we can promise that we’ll always fight to back to this family, come back to you, kiddo.” Smiles Bobby so lovingly, and Buck sniffs as he takes Bobby’s hand that was on his head into his own hand, not moving from where he was leaning against Eddie. Maddie walks over now, tears sliding down her face as she sits behind her brother and presses a kiss to the back of his head.

  “You’re not alone, Evan. Not anymore, you’re here with family.” She whispers, Buck’s crying still having not eased up despite him nodding his head at the words she had uttered. “I-I know, it’s just… You guys are all I have, I can’t lose you.” Buck finally admits everything; explain what had been weighing him down. “And every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is how close I’ve come to losing each of you. It fucking terrifies me.” He sobbed, Eddie holding him closer and rubbing a soothing hand across his back and he pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head.

  “Kiddo, how would you feel about going back to therapy? Meeting with someone else?” Bobby questioned, asking that last bit after seeing that small bit of panic in the younger man’s eyes when he looked up at him. “We can chose the therapist together, but I think seeing someone about this would really benefit you, son.” The Captain’s voice is filled with understanding when he speaks, and his eyes hold nothing but concern and love for the man sitting in front of him.

  “I might know just the person for you, Buckaroo. They’re wonderful and might be the best fit for you.” Athena said suddenly, walking over and standing behind her husband; smiling down so encouragingly when Buck looks up at her. After a moment of silence, and briefly looking at his boyfriend who just smiles so softly and patiently, he nods his head as he looks back up at the older woman. “Y-Yeah, okay. Yeah.” He whispers, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as he allows his body to sag back against Eddie; drained and tired.

  “But right now, you and Eddie are going to go into the spare bedroom, and you’re going to get some rest.” Athena says, everyone stepping back when Eddie helps Buck climb to his feet; holding him close still. He only lets go of the man that he loves when Athena steps forward and bring the younger man into her arms, holding him so tightly as if letting go would mean him disappearing. “You’re running on fumes, and you need rest. So go, we’ll wake you both up when dinner is ready.” Bobby added on, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder when Athena pulls away from the hug.

  “T-Thanks, guys. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.” He utters, feeling a little guilty about how worried all of them have been about his wellbeing lately, but it does make him feel so loved that they cared so much about him. “Hey, don’t apologise for this, okay? You’re allowed to have feelings, you’re human. And you’ve been through a lot.” Hen says seriously, smiling at her best friend as she pulls him into a hug of her own. “You’re feelings are completely valid, Buckaroo.”

  Eddie, who had been watching with a smile, can easily see that Buck is feeling a little overwhelmed with everything that had happened so he excuses them and says that they’re going to go take up that offer to get some sleep; he can see Buck badly needs it. Leading a tired and sluggish Buck into the house, Eddie holds his hand so tightly as they make their way into the said spare bedroom.

  “I would be so lost without you guys; I love you all so much.” Buck whispers despite only talking to Eddie now, who sits him down on the edge of the bed and begins kicking off his own shoes and jacket while Buck does the same. “And therapy might be the best idea; I’m just worried about it.” And Eddie understands why Buck is worried, and everything he is scared about is completely justified and valid; and Eddie isn’t ashamed to admit that he would be the same as Buck.

  “I know, love. But if Athena trusts this person, then I’m assuming they’re a safe bet. What happened with her won’t happen again, sweetheart.” Eddie feels like he can promise this, especially if Athena had been the one who was going to give them the name of someone that she trusted; especially after the event with Buck’s previous therapist taking advantage of him. “And we’re here for you, because we love and support you.”

  And for the first time in so long when Buck smiles up at his boyfriend it’s genuine and real, even though it’s something small and tired. But it’s real and that is enough to make Eddie feel as though everything is going to be okay soon. Not now, maybe not within the next year, but things will be okay.

[nancywheelxr]

oh i have sweet little tua prompt! okay so five is mouthing off to the others bc ya know ,,, he’s Five and the others are like “how can a small body contain so much rage” and they make comments about how small he is and eventually Five is like ,, “watch me fight luther” so then a wrestling match ensues with five vs his brothers while vanya and allison make bets and five tries to hide he’s having a good time bc he missed his siblings!! sorry it’s a lot lol but yeah! i love your blog/work!💖💖💖

Hey, there! Thank you so much!! Sorry, it took a while, but I hope you like this one!

Sometimes, Five wonders if the apocalypse wouldn’t have been a better option.

Sure, it ended all life on Earth and god knows how the missing moon affected the planet’s orbit, but sometimes, Five looks around and realizes his family is a bunch of idiots.

“Why would you do that?” He asks out loudly, more rhetorically than anything. His hopes of receiving a satisfying answer have long since been snuffed out. Still, the bricks and pieces of drywall at their feet feel like the kind of thing that warrant some questions.

“It’s not like anyone was using this room,” Klaus shrugs, leaning against the surviving wall and spinning the hammer lazily on his hands. “And it’s not like the whole house is gonna fall down ‘cause I tore down one little old wall.”

“It could if you took down something important,” he sighs, closing his eyes. For a second, Five just works on taking deep breaths. The fact that he’s the only one who bothered to go investigate what was causing the loud noises earlier is really beginning to get to him; surely they all heard them, but how come Five is the only one hear to stop Klaus from destroying the Academy? “Or, more likely, cause structural damage on this floor, since you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Klaus waves him off, unpreoccupied. “Don’t be so prickly,” he gestures the giant hole he already managed to tear down. “It’s not rocket science. Though, I’ll give you this– I am getting tired.”

“You know what, I don’t care,” Five gives him a fake, sugary smile, and smoothes out his clothes. “I’m going to go get coffee and you can bring the Academy down. Again.”

“Why are you so grumpy?” Klaus pushes himself off and– to Five’s horror and uttermost shock– reaches to ruffle his hair. “Go play outside, eat ice cream until you get brain freeze, be a kid!”

It takes Five a few seconds to believe his brother would be dumb enough to do that, would have the gall to do that, would– it’s infuriating, and–

“What’s going on?” Vanya asks, stopping at the doorway and looking at them strangely. It probably has to do with the murderous look Five is sure must be bleeding in his eyes and the fact that Klaus is still holding a hammer in front of his half-collapsed wall. “Is– are you guys okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Klaus grins, presenting his handwork proudly, “although, this is taking longer than I thought it would.”

“I, for one,” Five says placidly, “will feel better once I’m finished murdering Klaus.”

“Huh,” Vanya blinks, her eyes darting between them and around the room like she’s afraid Five might produce a gun from somewhere. “Maybe not?”

“Oh my god,” Klaus snickers, ducking out of the way when Five throws a piece of debris at his head, “you’re like, so small, how can you be so full of rage?”

Even Vanya, the absolute traitor, laughs quietly behind her hand, “he’s tiny, so it’s all concentrated.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Five punctuates each word with a small rock.

“Like a tiny, little ball of anger,” his brother giggles, tugging Vanya out of the room to escape Five’s attempts at hitting him with the drywall. “Help,” he calls, making a commotion in the hallway, “a chihuahua is trying to kill me!”

Five hears Vanya’s laughter and when he follows them out, he sees Diego and Allison have finally deigned to check what was going on. “Do you know how many people I killed before?” He narrows his eyes, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Countless.”

“I know, I know,” Klaus struggles to keep a serious face long enough to speak in a very patronizing tone, the asshole, “you are the world’s littlest assassin, we all heard the story.”

Then, as his annoyance bubbles over and spills all over the place, Five catches sight of Luther buttoning up his overcoat as he approaches them from the end of the hall. An idea lights up his face. “You don’t believe?” He glares at them all, “then watch me fight Luther.”

There’s a collective, panicked no! And a few of them try to lunge for him, but Five is quicker, smirking at them before whisking himself away from this circus.

*

When Five disappears in a blue flash, Vanya still stares at the spot he had just been for another minute, just like all of the others, until they hear Luther’s surprised gasp.

“Five, what– ouch!” They all turn in time to see Luther sway in the hall, doubled over, and Five teleports to his back, trapping Luther in a headlock. The look of shock and disbelief in Luther’s eyes is clear even from all the way from the end of the hallway as he shrieks, “he kicked my kneecaps!”

“I’ll break them the next time!” Five bellows, firmly perched on Luther’s back as they stumble forward, colliding with the walls and nearly falling over to the floor. “Yield, coward!”

Luther makes a face, coughing a little, and Vanya looks at Allison beside her, biting her lip to stifle a giggle. “Do you think Luther stands a chance?”

“Not at all,” Allison grins, elbowing Klaus beside her, “hey, wanna bet on how long until Five tires him out?”

Klaus laughs unashamedly, nodding happily. “20 bucks says it will be before the one hour mark.”

“Okay. I’ll give Luther an hour and a half,” she allows, glancing at the bumbling duo and the dents they leave behind in the walls. “Do you want in, Diego?”

“30 dollars on half an hour,” he grins, clearly pleased to see Luther making a fool of himself in front of them. And in front of the security cameras, Vanya notes amusedly.

“I think I’m with Diego,” Vanya decides, “but put me as 45 minutes.”

“Alright,” Allison checks her clock, “let’s see how long they will be at it.”

Beside her, Vanya hears Klaus cheering them on loudly, but her attention is caught elsewhere. She tilts her head, watching Five tugs at Luther’s ears and she doesn’t miss the way his lips quirk up every once in a while like he’s fighting off a smile and when he looks at them, she could swear his eyes are lighter, brighter, fuller then it’s been in weeks.

We missed you, too, she thinks with melancholy pulling at the edges of her smile.

[dwaynepride]

Just Dark Enough

Summary: After a long case, Chris needs some way to blow off some steam. He could have picked someplace more private, but you’ll make do.

Words: 2,690

Warnings: Public sex, female reader

Tags: @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @starryrevelations @n3shama @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17

Notes: I didn’t have anything special planned for Valentine’s day this year so have some Chris sin!! i posted a while back about wanting to write alleyway sin and i chose chris bc i hadnt written full-on smut with him yet

The night air was nice, for once. New Orleans never made a promise for nice weather, so for the cool wind to blow away the day's heat was a blessing. It prompts the night owls and party animals out to play; as if they wouldn't on a hot night, but this makes it more bearable.

The music bouncing through the streets was evidence of that. The air might smell like booze and bile, but the sound more than made up for it. Focusing past the music of Pride's bar was a challenge, but you picked up on the steel drum set down the street.

But you'd head back in soon. Back to drinking with the team and listening to the band. Letting Chris pull you up to dance, like he liked to do.

You were leaning up against the cool bricks of the alleyway behind the bar. A quieter place than the street that Pride let you sneak off to for some fresh air. Dark and private; just a few minutes of peace.

At least, until the door opens with a loud creak. The sound prompts your head to turn, smiling when Chris sees you. "You still out here, Sugarbelle?" He asks fondly, ending with question with a scoff as he closes the door behind him.

You nod, turning back to the street. "Yeah, I'm just...enjoying the peace."

He hums a little, eyeing you but not letting his sarcastic thoughts surface. Instead, Chris approaches with soft footfalls; barely audible against the concrete. "Well, I was missin' you, is all." His hand finds your hip, squeezing until you look back up at him. "Workin' so much lately 'cause of the case."

Yeah, the case had been brutal. Late nights and lots of dead ends. It was a big reason why the whole team had gathered in the bar tonight; to let loose, now that it’s done and over with. So you could understand why Chris had noticed your absence after you’ve been gone for a little while.

So you send him a light smile, fingers curling around his muscular upper arm. “I didn’t mean to take so long. I guess I was just enjoying the peace and quiet.” You both smirk at that; as if the streets of New Orleans provided much quiet. “We can go back in, if you want.”

The alleyway connected to the backdoor of Pride’s bar is fairly dark. So much so, you barely see the smile that graces Chris’ face as he shrugs his broad shoulders. “Well, there’s no rush. I kinda like it out here - just us.” He replies, taking a small step closer so he’s basically in your personal space.

Your head backs away at the sudden proximity, and it’s glaringly obvious that Chris has you stuck between him and the brick wall you’re leaning against. When your skull presses against the bricks, you give a light huff. “Well, if you want to be alone so bad, we could just call it a night.” Your fingers squeeze his arm, feeling the muscles beneath his sleeve.

“An’ miss all this fresh air and good music?” Chris quirks his eyebrows a bit, and you’re only given a short moment to roll your eyes at such a stupid statement before he finally just kisses you. A full-body kiss, no less; Chris leaning closer, carefully slotting himself against you like so many times before.

And you simply react to it. Arching your spine so your chests press together. Knees separating because Chris is teasing them open with one of his. There’s no surprise to feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and now, you’re hungry enough for him to grant access without hesitation.

Still, even if this is Chris, it’s a little rare for kisses to get so deep and so heavy this quickly. Especially away from home - especially in the alley behind his best friend’s bar.

The kiss breaks, and Chris is grinning. You are too, but you’re more dazzled by his smile. So much so, the feeling of his hand sliding up the back of your shirt doesn’t truly register until his fingertips start stroking the soft skin of your lower back. It’s the slight catch of his fingernails that clue you in. Your surprised jump only make Chris smile even wider.

“Getting a little touchy there.”

“Am I? Didn’t notice.”

He doesn’t stop, though. In fact, his hand just ventures up further. Blatantly enjoying the way your body shifts at his touch until his fingers reach the strap of your bra. And that’s when a bit of sense kicks in, and you push Chris’ hand back down to the small of your back. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” You scold him lightly, turning to watch the opening of the alley. “We’re in public!”

There’s a bit of dissatisfaction in his eyes when you pushed his hand away, but it’s not enough to dampen the mischief written plainly on his face. You’re almost afraid of the reason why Chris is wearing such a playful look before he just shrugs. “Well, if ya think about it, we ain’t really in public.” He takes a minute to look around before his smile returns. “No one can see us.”

That wasn’t the point. You two were still standing in an alley, and tonight was no less busy than any other night in New Orleans. This was still in public, no matter how Chris wanted to twist it.

And you had every intention of telling him that. Scolding his dumb plan but also promising to continue at home. In private.

But you evidently forgot the events of just a couple minutes ago, when Chris had so expertly had you twisted up in him. When he nudged his knee between both of yours and kept it there, even as you pushed his hand away.

So when he started moving his leg, it was so easy for his thigh to grind upwards. The friction elicits a sharp gasp from you and brings a victorious smile on Chris’ face. Sometimes, it’s just way too easy to get you riled up and wanting him.

The knowledge isn’t enough to deter Chris, though. Not when he’s got his mind on something. So, while moving his thigh up and down at a languid pace, he leans him. Lets his nose brush against yours so you feel the exhale of his breath. “Can’t wait till home, baby. Gotta have ya now.” He rumbles out, voice low and teasing because he knows that gets you going.

And it does. He feels your hips eagerly meet the thrusts of his thigh. Feels the light gasp of breath against his lips, and Chris figures he pretty much has you.

Chris wants to push his hand back up your shirt. Get that bra off like he intended, but he really should be responsible about this. You were right about one thing; this was a very stupid thing to do. Chris didn’t care to stop right now, but he could at least make clean-up as easy as possible.

The bra will stay on, but pants are the one thing that needs to go. Chris leans his head down to lock his lips with yours. Lets his teeth nip a little at your bottom lip; a distraction while his hands fiddle with the belt of your pants. The one downside to all this was that it was happening right after wrapping up a case; you were still wearing all your gear and work clothes.

He feels your body tense up once the belt is undone. Chris slows, just for a moment, as he works on the button of your jeans. If you changed your mind, you don’t tell him. In fact, the way your hips shift to give him more room to work is a very encouraging sign. The zipper is pulled down a moment later, but Chris doesn’t immediately yank them down and get to work.

He’s always been eager, but if there’s one thing that he’s good at, it’s not half-assing anything. Chris knows he’s gotta get you ready first. Gotta make you ask him to fuck you.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, voice a little pulled down. He’s trying to stay marginally quiet, but with his fingers starting to push past the waistband of your underwear, it’s hard to regulate his volume.

He hopes it’s not too hard later on.

You nod quickly, and that gives him the motivation to hurry up. The last thing either of you want is someone from the team coming out here, wondering where you were.

So, in just a couple heartbeats, Chris finds his goal. He grins wide, noting that you’re already pretty fucking wet. He’ll have to remember that if you tell him you didn’t like going at it in an alley. That obviously wasn’t true, and when he managed to press a single finger in, your harsh inhale only strengthened his case.

Chris lets out a low noise - something akin to a purr, and you really love the sound of it. “If I knew you’d like it this much, I woulda done it sooner.” He says, and you almost want to huff at his cocky tone. But really, the feeling of his finger moving in and out puts a lid on it. “Find a dark corner, pull you in, and fuck ya hard while you try shut up.”

A involuntary whimper comes out. Chris’ jeans get a little tighter at the sound, but he keeps going. Working to add a second finger because he’s ready for more. “But I know how loud y’are. And I don’t want nobody else hearin’ all those pretty noises you make. No one ‘cept me, Sugarbelle.”

His fingers crook this way and that. Hitting some very sensitive places. Scissoring in and out and stretching in the best possible way. It’s surprising how close you are to cumming, but here you are; whining and pleading against his lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet.

And it’s almost as if Chris is going to let you cum, before a particularly loud group of people pass by the entrance of the alleyway. They’re laughing and hollering and the sudden jump in volume causes you both to jump. Chris slides his hand free, and you were too terrified to even feel a little disappointed at the absence.

But nobody spares you two a glance. You're sure they didn't even know you were there. There's much too many lights and music on the street to pay attention to some little alley behind a bar.

And that realization settles in quickly. Chris only barely meets your gaze once more before you both are back to pulling on one another, lips kissing feverishly and bodies trying to work up some friction.

It's only when you hear Chris' belt in the darkness do you feel the odd sense of dangerous thrill. You get a taste of why he wanted to do it out here. How much fun it would be.

So while Chris is fumbling with his jeans, you toe off your shoes. Push your pants down and kick them away, but still within reach. It's a little scary, being this bare in public. The air feels almost unnatural against your skin, and you're grinning at the thought of somebody suddenly turning the corner or opening the back door.

But there's no more time to think about it. Because Chris pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough so he can pull his cock free. He hisses because the air has the same effect on him as it did on you, but you both are much too excited to stop and think.

Chris reaches down to pull your leg up, curving it over his hip and keeping it there. And he kisses you once; a small peck before backing away. "Ready for me, baby?" He breathes out, a smile tugging on his lips.

You nod quickly, mirroring his smile. So when Chris moves his hand to pull your underwear aside, you're reaching to curl your fingers against the hard heat of his cock. His hands are a bit full right now, anyway. He'll need the help.

There's a slight temptation to make a loose fist and start working him up, but there's no time. So, when his hips arch forward, you're angling yours until Chris is able to push in the swollen tip; a small movement that drives your nails into his shoulder because you want to make some kind of noise.

You hold it back, though. Just barely.

The same can't quite be said for Chris. As he presses another inch or two in, a low groan comes up from the back of his throat. "Fuck." He says through gritted teeth before letting out a couple pants. It's a real challenge to bite everything back.

Thankfully, it doesn't impede on his concentration. Chris' eyebrows are furrowed together, his head tilted down as methodically moves his hips back and forth. Short jerks in the beginning; the awkward position makes it hard to really drive in. But sooner rather than later, Chris is finally able to start an addicting rhythm that continuously stokes the fire in your belly.

Your hands run over his chest and shoulders and arms, wishing his shirt wasn't in the way but enjoying the press of his muscles regardless. He'd have to be plenty strong - you feel the strain in his arm while he keeps your leg at his hip.

His thrusts start getting a little more powerful. Going faster to try to speed the process along before you get caught. Chris pushes his face into the crook of your neck, taking advantage to let loose some of the noises he's been fighting back. And also some filthy words riding on the tip of his tongue.

"God, couldn't wait till we got home. Love fuckin' you hard, baby. Wanted to all day- fuck.”

Chris might’ve had the advantage of hiding his face away, but you had no such favour. With his nails digging into bottom of your thigh and the coil growing tighter and tighter in your stomach, it was hard to keep quiet. The most you could do was close your eyes and hope your orgasm won’t have Chris’ names echoing off the brick walls.

And finally, you were hitting your peak. A gasp forcefully enters your lungs, pushing out before another takes its place. The force of the coil unspringing so quickly and so powerfully was much more than you were expecting out of a public quickie. Chris himself was having a hard time staying quiet; you feel his teeth in the meat of your shoulder while his hips move out of his control. Pushing all through out the length of your orgasms.

Once the white noise dies down and your eyes open, the first thing you sense is Chris. His hot breath in your neck. The sound of his panting. The feel of his nails detaching from your thigh.

The second thing is the alley itself. With Chris still in his own little world, you quickly look around. Nobody was standing in front of the alleyway, yelling obscenities. No one from the team was peeking out from behind the door, threatening to tell Pride about this little act.

Good. It looks like nobody saw.

“Chris.” You mumble out, hands pushing him away lightly. His head lolls a little, but he’s wearing a soft smile. It takes a moment to remember what you were going to say. “We should get back. They’ll be wondering where we are.”

His eyes roll a little, but it finally seems like he’s seeing sense. “Yeah, yeah.” With that, Chris regretfully retracts and fixes his pants. Quickly helps you do the same, all while keeping a careful eye out.

It seems like a miracle that it all happened without anybody so much as hearing it. You’re not confident that neither you or Chris were perfectly silent.

Regardless, it was still a really amazing fuck. The next challenge would be to keep from grinning like idiots around the team.

[ancanosaur]

Subscorp shorts: a Cryomancer with the flu and his caring ninja boyfriend.

I woke up this morning thinking about this bc i think about these dumb old men that love eachother a lot. So dont mind me. It's really gay just puttin that out there. I also haven't written an actual fic in like,,,awhile so thia will prob be rough.

Based off a headcanon i have about a type of flu that only effects those with Cryomancer blood. Basically it makes their body heat go up and they cant cool themselves off and they can only start to get better if they cool down.

❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄

A flash of orange flames light up the snow around Hanzo as he looks up to the grey shape of the Lin Kuei. A spring of joy and cheeky excitment fluttered in his chest like caged butterflies, something you wouldnt be able to tell from his outside demeanor as he made his way up the aged stone steps. Hanzo felt like a teenager coming to see his love after being forced apart for sometime, though it has only been a week since he last saw his lover.

It was almost nostalgic in a way, reminding him of the days he would return home from battle. Something that was a life time ago now. "Open up!" One the guards called out as Hanzo aproached the heavy metal gate, watching it slowly arise. The two guards that stood at the entrance placed their fists to their chests and gave him a short yet respectful bow. "Welcome master Hasashi." The one on the left spoke. Hanzo returned the bow as the other spoke. "Grandmaster is in his study at the moment." Hanzo nodded and thanked the guards and the gate keeper as he entered the temple's court yard.

Hanzo began question why Kuai would retire to his study so early. Usually he was overseeing the younger Students training around this time. "Left kick!" He heard a female voice shout followed by the many shouts of adolescent voices. Hanzo looked over to see the snowy haired Frost leading the training of a group of 12 to maybe 14 year olds.

'Perhaps his paperwork needed his full attention at this time.' He thought to himself as he and Frost made breif eye contact and suddle nods. Frost still did not favor the leader of the ninja clan, but her attitude has been adjusted after many long talks with Kuai. She was just naturally hot headed and quick to make judgments, ironic for someone who's Cryomantic blood ran thicker that Kuai's himself.

Hanzo made his way through the large temple, being greeted by many Lin Kuei of various ages and status among the clan until he was at Kuai's door, giving a gentle knock. "Enter." He heard his voice say, though he sounded off...

Hanzo opened the sliding door with ease and met Kuai's bright blue gaze, only his eyes were stained with the signs of sleepless nights and aching pains. "Your timing is something you should work on, Hanzo." The Cryomancer said weakly as he sat back in his chair.

His cheeks were a bit flushed and sweat dotted his brow. "Kuai?" Hanzo questioned as he closed the door behind him. His deep brown eyes were orbs of worry and questions began to flood the mind just behind them.

"I believe i have...cuaght something." The younger man said, making an attempt to wipe the brow from his forehead with a cloth. "You are sick?" Hanzo made his way over to the gandmaster, standing next to his chair where he was placed at his desk. The older placed his hand to the other's cheek. He was warm, even by Hanzo's standards he was warm. "Mercy, Kuai you are burning up." His brows frowned with worry as he moved his hand up to his forehead to his other, scarred cheek. "It has been sometime since i have fallen ill." He let out a gentle chuckle. "I believe i was still a boy, the last i came down with something."

"Kuai, you need to rest. Using your energy will only keep you sicker longer." Hanzo pulled his chair from his desk, coaxing him to stand up so he may help him into bed. "There is no way i am talking you out of caring for me, is there?" Kuai looked up at hanzo, giving him that smirk he loves so much. "I am not above knocking you over the head, Kuai Liang." Hanzo said as he took his hands, helping the taller man to his feet. Even his hands were warm and his knees were weak as he stood. "But yes, i do plan to care for you." He gave his nose a small kiss, knowing his cant catch whater it is that Kuai has.

Hanzo helped Kuai undress once they made it into his quarters, helping him into some thin sleeping pants. "Your balance is off." Hanzo noted out loud as he help his love into bed, not pulling the covers over him knowing he would just kick them off. "No need to critique me, dear." Kuai gave a half smile as he rested his head on his pillow. Hanzo couldnt help but smile back and shake his head. "I am saying you most likely have caught the flu." The older ninja kissed his forehead. "Would you like me to stay?" Hanzo asked in a soft tone. "Please. Seven days without seeing you is too long..." Kuai was halfway dozing off now. So there was no point in Hanzo laying down the fact that they've gone weeka on end without seeing each other. He was greatly flattered though.

Hanzo awoke in the middle of the night at the sound of huffing and tired sighs. He sat up to look to the other side of the bed, finding it emty, opening the flood gates of worry. But it wasnt long until he found Kuai just beside the bed, laying on the brick pattern floor, sweat dripping down from his face down to his chest as he let out deep huffing sighs.

"Kuai?" Hanzo crawled out of bed and onto the floor with him. "Kuai? What is it? What's wrong?" A flame of panic began to light in the older man's chest at the sight of his love spread out on the floor, dripping in sweat. "The floor is cold..." kuai said, eyes still closed, voice rough. Alright, now Hanzo was worried and this couldnt be just a simple case of the flu.

"Kuai," Hanzo stroked his short hair. "I think we should bring the healers in." Hanzo said softly. "No,...just ice." Hanzo thought he misheard him for a moment. "Tell what you need Kuai, anything." Hanzo whispered. "Ice... I need the cold." Kuai finally spoke up.

An idea clicked in Hanzo's head, if it will work or not has yet to be seen, but he'd be damned if he wasnt going to try. "Come now, let us get you outside."

Hanzo helped Kuai to the silding door that lead to the guardens of the temple, both of the only in their sleeping pants as they made their way out under the shine of the moon and the beautiful stars that scattered the sky. Thier leaving tracks in the snow covered gaurden as Hanzo knealed down, gently laying Kuai down in the thick layer of snow, a sigh a relief escaped Kuai's lips as he sank into the ice with that familiar sound of snow packing together.

Hanzo couldnt but enjoy the smile that spread across Kuai's face as he curled his strong arms up, collecting and hugging the snow like a soft feathery pillow under his head. The Shirai Ryu sat on his knees with his boyfriend, collecting the snow and sprinkling it over Kuai's chest and abs, hearing him let out another sigh of relief. "Better?" Hanzo asked, the smile on his lips unable to break at the sight of the grandmaster snuggling up in the freshly fallen snow. "Much better." He hummed, the sweat on his brow slowly fading. "There is a reason it is called a blanket of snow." The Lin Kuei muttered as Hanzo piled more hand fulls of the icey substance onto him, choosing to halfway ignore him.

"You worried me there for a moment." Kuai opened his blue hues to look at Hanzo, pulling him to lay with him in the snow. "I hope you can forgive him." He smiled at him, his voice still hoarse with sickness. Hanzo was going to protest laying with him, but soon gave in to the thought. "You may make it up to me." Hanzo raised a dark brow at the snow covered Cryomamcer, his long jet black hair now dotted with snow flakes as he lie with him. It made Kuai smile as he placed a now chilled hand to Hanzo's warm face. "May i?" Hanzo let out a scoff as he avoided his gave only for a moment, always charmed by Kuai's manners. "Always." He answered and soon their lips met as they both lay in the glittery snow.

[sikmsik]

week 1: ideas

I collected a series of tweets (I think best in its brevity) made for each of the 3 possible thesis proposals. Through all the proposals the medium is primarily the same: a book. I’m most interested in the book as a format and its intimacy as a medium so in any case I wanted to use it to communicate something personal and intimate, and additionally bind and create the book myself.

01: A fantasy comic focusing on a protagonist’s journey back to his home country and dealing with the cultural repercussions of a political shift. (I’ll throw in the tweets as a paragraph because in retrospect they were pretty funny.)

10 years ago lukar and solace trained together side by side in the army of the (???) and uh they were pretty gay. but in the civil war that resulted among the noble houses of the (???), lukar got thrown into slavery rings and cursed by witch houses to the snake's slow waste, and after fighting out of it he's returned to his home domain (???) to reclaim his rightful inheritance and use the blood of usurpers to free him from his curse. too bad solace is there heading the troops that are the main portion of the army. 

usurpers adapting local culture, lukar feeling unworthy and gritting his teeth and fighting anyway, he totally tried to use his relationship with solace to get into it, solace struggling with duty and honor as concepts because he was exiled from his own homeland as a child and the relationship he has with his parents and birth nation...

02: A reflection of my high school mental landscape as a result of various things: Chinese heritage, desire to achieve more than I might be able, centering on the one time I got in a fight with my parents and ran away to hide behind a brick wall for an hour. This idea was also the idea I developed the most, with thumbnails and layouts drawn. (Again, more edgy tweets in paragraph form.)

gifted and talented. those words don't describe me. but they come weighted with some kind of expectation. and i felt like i had to live up to them and when i didn't i was met with ignorance. rejection. disappointment, violently so. the yolk is invisible. be the best. prove them wrong. prove who wrong? them. you owe them you owe them

i couldn't take tests then. i was so used to the glowing yellows of 90s percentiles behind the signs lit up to announce you are entering the housing subdivision, hoping the car lights wouldn't find me in my shame. staring at the sky and the trees and realizing maybe i was just a useless and spoiled teenager throwing tantrums. gifted and talented. it's dumb.

the world is too much. in places where there is motion at day i find comfort at night, empty classrooms and stairwells and empty studios. laundromats where my thoughts are loudest. 

two shadows. my thoughts spill out into the sidewalk.where there is emptiness i want to fill those with something me—words, gestures. i feel free. unpressured by anything. it feels good. i can hide among the chaos of city and drown out my own screaming

03: Lastly, a visual memoir of sorts documenting my experience growing up Chinese-American, my alienation from both my heritage, my environment, and even peers who are also perceived to be Chinese. Again. some tweets.

he is chinese. i am chinese. we are chinese. (the image indicates these to be lies.)

incense smells like the family i never knew. it makes me sick.

two identities, competing (hands in a body) for dominance.

chinese american. chinese-american.

i'm tired of people being kind of awful about Cantonese how about you shut the fuck up? imagine feeling like ur chinese experiences aren't validated when ur around chinese people. so: whats it like to not feel like ur heritage isnt as important? whats it like to not feel like the language and food and traditions which yOU FEEL SO PROUD OF and call chinese, not, be, The Majority? whats it like to not feel humiliated because u didn't know anything about chinese culture outside of THE ONE YOU GREW UP WITH OF COURSE YOU WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT CULTURE YADA YOU DIDN'T GROW UP WITH WHY SHOULD YOU BE EXPECTED TO KNOW? whats it like to have chinese people poke n prod and say wow your language is really weird idk the difference between any of the tones? whats it like to have chinese people just not know what damn food ur talking about, the one uve eaten all ur life. chinese people, american people—i dont even belong with a lot of chinese-american people because only small % share similar culture w meto not even fit in and feel strong shared experience with people LIKE you—growing up between china and america—that's Super Fucked

there was some white guy claiming that knowing about chinese culture, wearing chinese clothes, is being chinese—but like. it's not about what you do, it's about who you are. it's just. why do you get to say you're chinese and not have to go through the shittiness of being denied a name and place at every turn. fitting in nowhere bc other things & people fill up more space so you have to shrink yourself until there's no more room for you to breathe

i want to be my own person! not crushed under the weight of what i'm supposed to do (surpass my parents? imploding)

i want also to think abt the idea of owing things to your parents because like. i owe a lot to them obviously (uh my being here, life expenses, college) but the way they gave up on teaching me the chinese way was.... hurtful to both of us.

when i was 11 i was sent to chinese school. (i was humiliated. this person who was humiliated has not left me since.) i always thought my mom would teach me cantonese. and for a while she did. but i guess she gave up. mandarin is easier. but in fact it was the most difficult thing i had ever done, trying to bend my brain around something i had no interest in or connection to.