#like oh bobby you have a shirt underneath

[ratatatastic]

happy game 4 of the robe streak™, i will never get tired of it

philadelphia flyers @ florida panthers | 11.9.24 (x)(x)

[eddiazx]

buck wild - evan buckley x reader

Buck has always been beautiful. Over the past year though, he had an even bigger glow up, which you didn’t even think could be possible.

His golden hair had furled into soft little coils, his stomach was fuller, his arms were so muscular that you were slightly concerned he was going to rip through his all of his T-shirts, and his thighs. Lord, his thick thighs were built like tanks. All in all, Buck looked comfortable in his own skin, in being himself, and in being enough, and you were obsessed with it.

Of course, you might be biased, but you think the general public can agree with you that your boyfriend is a smoke show.

The 118 and their families were currently gathered at Athena and Bobby’s house. It was one of those rare weekend nights where everyone was free, so the couple had invited everyone over for a barbecue.

Dusk was falling, and the kids were planted in front of the downstairs television watching a horror movie. The adults were sitting in the backyard, chatting over drinks. You were sitting sideways in Buck’s lap, one of his hands bringing a beer bottle to his lips every few minutes, while the other rested on your leg. Both of you were immersed in the story that Karen was recounting about an incident that happened in her lab.

When you decide that you needed a sip of water, you shift yourself up from Buck's lap and the comfortable position you were in. You put your feet on the ground, lean forward and oh-

Your legs were on either side of Buck’s thick left thigh, and whether it was due to the booze or the angle or the solid muscle underneath hitting you just right, arousal zips through you.

You gulp and get up on shaky legs with Buck’s help. You make a beeline to the kitchen and grab a water bottle, pressing the cool plastic to the side of your neck in attempt to calm down.

“Hey, you okay?”, you hear Buck behind you. You turn around to see your sweet boyfriend who had trailed after you in concern.

“Yeah... but do you mind if we go home?”

“Of course. Are you feeling sick?”

“No, but I am feeling hot.” You say, trailing a nail down Buck’s chest to his tummy, biting your lower lip.

Buck, quickly understanding, smirks, and takes your hand in his, guiding you back towards the group to bid your hasty goodbyes before walking out the front door. You don't quite catch the knowing looks and smirks that Eddie and Hen give Buck.

Buck's warm hand never leaves yours, except to help you into his Jeep. He buckles himself in, and starts to drive, but not before asking,

“So, what was it that turned you on?”

Your cheeks warm. You look pointedly at his thighs, and he chuckles. He eventually pulls the Jeep into park in front of your shared apartment.

You move to open the passenger door, but Buck pulls you back. He brings you in for a kiss and shuffles you over the centre console to make you straddle him, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

“Buck”, you pant breathlessly into his mouth, before sliding your tongue over his. His big hands caress your back and down your butt, before you feel him guide your legs so that one of his thighs was between them.

“Okay, baby. Ride me. Take what you need.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You hold onto Buck’s shoulders, grinding your hips back and forth over the corded muscle. Buck looks up at you like this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his own dick straining against his jeans. He bounces his leg up into you experimentally, and when you react positively, he continues to do so in an unrelenting pace. Buck can tell by your whines and breathing that you were close, so he finally grasps your hips and pulls you down hard onto his thigh. Within seconds, you’re shaking with white-hot pleasure.

Buck coos and rubs your sides, grounding you after your high. It's unspoken between you two, but this was most definitely not the last time you'd be doing this.

[inkinmyheartandonthepage]

Laundry Day

Day 15 of flufftober and the prompt is "What are you wearing?" "What - its laundry day!" You can read it here on Ao3.

“Uh, what’s code for a dinosaur in the station?” Chimney asked, sounding amused.

From the table at the loft, Eddie, Hen, and Bobby all gave Chim an incredulous look. They had only just sat down to lunch and Chimney had been brining over a stack of plates to the table.

“What?” Hen found her voice first.

Chimney jerked his head towards the stairs, and everyone at the table turned to look. Laughter spilled around the table as they took in the little dinosaur that was eagerly making its way across the loft to the table.

“Mr. Eddie!” Paige’s voice came from underneath the plastic velociraptor mask that was strapped to her head.

Eddie beamed, pushing back his chair. “Oh no! It’s a dinosaur! Help!”

Paige giggled loudly and pushed back the mask from her face. “No! Mr. Eddie it’s me! Paige!”

Eddie let out an exaggerated breath of relief. “Oh Paige! I thought you were a dinosaur.”

Paige gave him a toothy smile, looking proud.

Eddie heard several coos around the table, and he ignored them, cheeks flushing hot. Paige did look adorable in her dinosaur costume and Eddie had wondered what had inspired the look. When laughter rang out around the table, Eddie looked up and nearly choked on his tongue.

Buck sauntered over to the table, dressed in a blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his chest and a leather vest over the top. He looked like Chris Pratt’s character in the latest Jurassic Park movies, only Buck wore it much better. Eddie swallowed thickly, feeling his cheeks flush hotter.

“Hey guys!” Buck greeted everyone joyfully, giving a little wave.

There was a chorus of hellos around the table and Eddie stepped around Paige to greet his boyfriend. His cheeks were still warm when he gave Buck a quick peck on the lips and he pulled back, giving his boyfriend another glance over.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asked, failing to keep the confusion out of his voice.

“It’s laundry day,” Buck shrugged, unembarrassed.

“And you had nothing else?” Eddie asked, arching a brow.

“Well, I wasn’t going to chase after a velociraptor unprepared, Eddie,” Buck rolled his eyes, his smile giving away that he wasn’t really annoyed. “I had to look the part!”

And if Eddie Diaz wasn’t already hopelessly in love with his Evan Buckley, this would have tipped him over the edge.

“You goof,” Eddie said fondly.

Buck beamed brightly in response. “By the way, that velociraptor is now stealing your lunch.”

Eddie turned to find Paige had climbed on to his chair and was now helping herself to the plate that had been put down in front of her. She was happily munching on the spaghetti that been plated up, mask pushed up so it sat on her forehead. Bobby, who Eddie had been sitting next to, had tucked a napkin into her costume so she didn’t spill it down the front of her.

“Snooze you lose, Eddie,” Chimney grinned at him.

“There is plenty if you’d like to join us, Buck,” Bobby said, giving Buck a soft smile. “Pull up a chair.”

“Well, I did just come by to drop off Ed’s phone,” Buck said, handing Eddie the phone he had left as Buck’s place this morning in his haste to get out of the house. He had been running late because when he had woken up Buck had just looked so soft and beautiful that he had no choice but to kiss him awake and they may have gotten carried away and lost some time.

“But I won’t say no to some lunch,” Buck continued. He moved past Eddie, not before squeezing his arm, and went and took a free seat.

Hen immediately handed him a plate and Chimney loaded the pasta onto his plate.

Feeling warm and content, the only thing they needed was Chris here to make this moment perfect. Instead, his son was with his Abuela. Buck and Paige would be picking him up later and Eddie couldn’t stop the smile at the domesticity of it all. Scooping Paige up off the seat, he lifted her into his lap and pulled the plate towards them.

“You going to share?” Eddie asked.

“Roar!” Paige giggled.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Eddie grinned and grabbed a fork. Eddie basked in the conversation that flowed around the table as they ate. Too soon the bell was going off and everyone was rushing from the table.

Eddie carefully picked Paige off his lap and set her down on the chair and then placed a kiss to the top of her head. Then he moved to Buck, giving him a quick kiss.

“Love you,” Eddie said.

“Love you too. Be safe,” Buck grinned and then Eddie was running after his crew.

As they all jumped in the engine and pulled out into the L.A traffic, Eddie couldn’t help but pout.

Hen gave his leg a pat, offering him a sympathetic smile.

“I really think we should have some kind of code for a dinosaur attack,” Chimney said. “You never know when we might need one.”

There was a beat of silence before they all roared with laughter, Chimney squawking in protest.

The call was an easy one but required some heavy lifting, leaving them all tired. When they arrived back at the station and had changed out of their turnouts, they went up to the loft to find that Buck had cleaned up for them and there was a note in the middle of the table.

Pasta is in the fridge and plates are in the dishwasher.

Hope the rest of your shift goes well!

Buck & Paige.

Underneath in a child’s scrawl, Paige had added;

Roar! Roar! Roar!

The exhaustion fell away, and Eddie beamed.

“You have one amazing family there, Eddie,” Bobby said kindly, giving Eddie a pat on the shoulder.

“I’m pretty lucky, aren’t I?” Eddie said.

The rest of Eddie shift seemed to pass slowly as his eagerness to go home to his family grew. Finally, he was able to clock out. He changed in record time, ignoring the way his team’s teasing and hurried to his truck.

The traffic seemed to be in favour of Eddie for once and so it didn’t take him long to get to Buck’s place. The space in Buck’s driveway where he parked was taken up by another car and Eddie frowned as he didn’t recognise it. He parked on the street, grabbing his duffel bag and made his way up the garden path.

“Buck! I’m home,” Eddie called out as his stepped through the front door.

“Dad!” Chris’s joyous cry rang out and a moment later his son was crashing into his legs. A few seconds later another body was crashing into his legs, hugging him tightly.

“Hi Mr. Eddie!”

“Hey guys,” Eddie beamed, pressing a kiss to each of their heads.

Paige had lost her dinosaur mask and was now dressed in regular clothes; the washing clearly having been finished.

Eddie looked up as Buck came into the room and he was slightly disappointed to find that Buck had changed out of his costume. Still, the way Buck’s t-shirt stretched across his chest Eddie wasn’t that upset.

The kids released Eddie, rushing back towards the living room.

“How was the rest of your shift?” Buck asked, giving Eddie a quick kiss.

“Good,” Eddie said. “Hey, who’s car is that in the driveway?”

Buck gave Eddie a sheepish, almost worried, look. “Ah, well. I picked up Chris from Abuela’s and there was a surprise waiting for us.” Buck took Eddie’s hand, linking their fingers together and guided him to the living room.

When they entered, Eddie’s eyes landed on the brunette who was sitting on the couch. She automatically stood, smoothing her clothes, and giving Eddie a shy smile.

“Hi! You must be Eddie,” she said.

“I am,” Eddie said, sounding as confused as he felt.

“Ed’s,” Buck said, taking a deep breath. “Meet my sister, Maddie.”

Eddie looked at Buck so fast he felt his neck crack at the action. “Wait, your sister?”

“That’s me,” Maddie said, smiling hesitantly. “I’m sorry, for just showing up unannounced.”

Eddie squeezed Buck’s hand before he looked back to Maddie. “No! No, you’re always welcome. Hi.” He released Buck’s hand and carefully pulled Maddie into a hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Buck had shared with him, not long after they had met, that he had a sister who he hadn’t spoken to in years. How he feared that she was in an abusive relationship but there wasn’t anything he could do. How he had begged her when he was nineteen to run away with him but when the time came to leave, she hadn’t. How Buck had sent her postcards of her travels and pictures of Paige when she had been born. How Maddie had always sent Paige a gift on her birthday and at Christmas time. How he missed her and wished that she was around.

He wasn’t sure what had brought Maddie to L.A but he was going to be there for his boyfriend and his sister, no matter what they needed.

“Aunt Maddie!” Paige called. “We need more glitter.”

“And glue,” Chris added.

Maddie smile grew. “Coming.” She looked to Eddie and Buck, giving them an apologetic smile before joining the kids in the living room where there was a mess of glitter, paper and pens spread out on the coffee table.

Eddie turned to Buck, looking him over. “So, one hell of a laundry day?”

Buck barked a laugh. “Yeah. She, uh, she left Doug.” He looked a little misty eye. “Said she didn’t want to miss out on anymore of my life and Paige’s. Or Chris’s.”

Eddie wrapped an arm around Buck’s waist. “That’s good. I’m so happy for you, Buck.”

Buck nodded, curling into Eddie’s warmth. “She’s going to stay here, for a bit. If that’s okay with you and Chris. Maddie said she would get a hotel but I-“

“Of course she’s going to stay here,” Eddie interrupted. He felt Buck relax into his grip.

“We should look at getting a bigger place. Maybe a three or four bedroom,” Buck said. “With a big enough garden for the bees and if we want another kid later on or if guest stay –“ Buck cut himself off abruptly and tried to pull out of Eddie’s grip, face flushed pink.

Eddie didn’t let him get far, just reeled Buck back in close. “We can start looking at a bigger place. I want that with you Buck.”

“You, you want to move in together?” Buck asked hopefully.

Eddie grinned. “So badly. Babe, you have no idea how badly I want to marry you.”

Buck’s smile lit up his entire face. “I – I may have already bought a ring.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he thought about the ring he already had tucked away. “I love you so much. And I love the family we have been building together.”

“You and Chris are everything I have ever wanted,” Buck said, voice low. “I love you.”

Eddie pulled Buck into a light kiss. He lingered for a bit, desperately wanting to deepen it and pour all the love he held for Buck into it, but that would be for later. Instead, he pulled back and gave Buck a soft, fond smile. “Let’s go join your sister. We have plenty of time for everything else.”

“Thank you,” Buck said, voice wavering with emotion. “Thank you, Eddie for growing my little hive.”

Eddie brushed another kiss across Buck’s lips. “We grew it together.”

Buck squeezed Eddie’s hand and together they headed into the living room to join their family in all the loud and messy fun they were having.

[renecdote]

simmer

“This isn’t another Bobby secret recipe, is it?” he asks.

“Nah,” Buck answers. “I found it in a cookbook.”

“Okay, then let me do it,” Eddie says, moving forward to peer into the pan. “You can sit down, ice your shoulder…”

This amused little huff, like Buck can see right through him to the messy, beating heart underneath his words. Like he’s not quite sure what to do with it—being loved—which Eddie can’t even blame him for because he doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes too.

For BTHB: hurt caretaker

[Read on AO3]

Eddie wakes up to the smell of garlic and onions. He can’t place himself for a moment, the ceiling too high and the room too bright, the mattress just a little too soft and the duvet too heavy, and then he hears the sound of Christopher’s laugh downstairs and it all comes flooding back. He’s in Buck’s apartment. Buck’s bed. His fingers are tingling as feeling rushes back into the arm he was sleeping on.

“Just a quick nap,” he said earlier. “Wake me up in half an hour.”

But he can tell even before he fumbles for his watch on the nightstand that it’s been a lot longer than half an hour. His body feels heavy, his mind sticky with cobwebs, and it would be so, so easy to just roll over and go back to sleep.

He forces himself up instead.

“Dad!” Christopher calls when he sees him coming down the stairs. “We’re making lunch!”

Eddie rubs the lingering sleep from his eyes, warmth from the kitchen rolling over him as he draws nearer.

“Smells good,” he says, tousling Christopher’s hair when he reaches the island. His son twists his head away, groaning like the almost-teenager he is, but he’s grinning when he bends back over the recipe book open in front of him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Buck greets him, too busy smiling at Eddie to notice the sauce dripping off his wooden spoon and onto the counter, bright red against granite grey.

“Hey.” Eddie has to clear his throat, his mouth dry from sleep. (And maybe, a little bit, the way Buck’s biceps bulge in his long-sleeved shirt.) “You were supposed to wake me.”

Buck’s head tilts, his smile bending into amusement. “I did. You grumbled about wanting five more minutes, then pulled the covers over your head. I figured you needed it so I let you sleep.”

Oh.

“I don’t remember that,” Eddie admits, sheepish. “Sorry.”

Buck shrugs, then winces, rubbing at his shoulder. Ice and rest, Hen instructed this morning, her gaze sweeping over Eddie as well like she already knew they’d be going home together. There was the suggestion of a sling as well, just in case, but Buck turned it down. Eddie wonders now whether he should have insisted on it, knowing Buck.

“This isn’t another Bobby secret recipe, is it?” he asks.

“Nah,” Buck answers. “I found it in a cookbook.”

“Okay, then let me do it,” Eddie says, moving forward to peer into the pan. “You can sit down, ice your shoulder…”

This amused little huff, like Buck can see right through him to the messy, beating heart underneath his words. Like he’s not quite sure what to do with it—being loved—which Eddie can’t even blame him for because he doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes too.

“It’s just spaghetti and meatballs, Eds, I think I can handle it. Besides, my sous chef is doing all the hard work.”

Christopher nods seriously. “I measured the ingredients and rolled all the meatballs.”

They’re sitting on a plate by the stove now, browned and ready to be added back into the sauce. Eddie is surprised the cooking didn’t wake him up earlier, but at the same time not surprised at all. Buck and Chris are a constant background hum of safe safe safe in the back of his mind; he thinks he could sleep through the end of the world, as long as they were nearby.

“At least let me do the spaghetti,” he tries. 

Buck squints at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to break the noodles again, are you?”

Christopher’s giggles are music under Eddie’s groan. “That was one time. One time!”

“One time was enough,” Buck tells him solemnly.

“Fine.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I guess I’ll just sit here and look pretty.”

Buck opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing the first instinctual response that came to mind. Eddie has the crazy thought that he should kiss him. Reach in there and pull the words out with his tongue. He bites his cheek instead, hoping the flush he can feeling crawling up his neck isn’t visible to anyone else. Are Buck’s cheeks more pink than they were a second ago too? Maybe. It’s probably just the heat of the stove. What are the odds that he was thinking about kissing Eddie as well?

“You can make the salad, dad,” Christopher suggests. “Buck says we have to have greens too because of all the carbs.”

Buck says.

Eddie thinks about saying it sometimes: you don’t have to take care of us.

He thinks about saying the other thing too: I like it when you take care of us.

It all feels too dangerous to put into words. Too much like standing on top of a cliff and peering over the edge, unsure where he might land if he fell. Unsure how much it will hurt. Daring to hope that it won’t.

Eddie clears his throat. “Well if Buck says so…”

He chops salad ingredients under Christopher’s careful supervision (“that’s too big, dad” and “no, that’s too small”) while Buck moves around behind him and, god help him, it’s so easy to imagine doing this for the rest of their lives. So easy to look back and see the way they’ve already been doing this for—how long has it been? Not the whole time they’ve known each other, but close enough. Buck ducks his head over the pasta sauce, stirring his wooden spoon through the simmering tomato-y goodness, and when he comes over with a teaspoon of sauce a second later and says, “hey, taste this for me,” Eddie opens his mouth without question.

“Mm. Good.”

The pasta sauce. He’s definitely just talking about the pasta sauce.

“Yeah? You don’t think it needs anything?”

I think I need you, forever, and it scares me how much I want you to need me too.

“No,” Eddie answers. “It’s perfect.”

Buck’s smile is like a drug, shooting through Eddie’s veins straight to his heart. It feels dangerous, being smiled at like that. Like maybe he’s not standing on top of that cliff after all. Maybe he’s already falling—has always been falling—and with every foot closer to the ground, the hope wrapping around him like a hug gets a little harder to ignore.

****

“Video games?” Chris asks hopefully, when pasta and meatballs have been demolished, the faint red of the sauce all that remains on their plates.

Buck turns to Eddie as well, ready to follow whatever lead he takes, and Eddie probably would have caved right then and there if not for the pain lines creeping in around Buck’s eyes.

“You have a book report due Monday,” he reminds Chris instead. “Get it at least half done and then we can talk about video games.”

Christopher groans. “Da-ad.”

“Chri-is,” Eddie mimics, and Buck snorts beside him.

“You better listen to your dad, Chris,” he says, “that’s his serious tone.”

Eddie throws a wadded up napkin at him while Christopher grins.

They clear the table so Chris can set up there with his book and his tablet, putting on his headphones, “so I can concentrate, duh”. Buck runs water in the sink and pulls on his floral gloves to wash the dishes, so Eddie settles in beside him to dry and puts things away. It’s as easy as it always is; he doesn’t have to think about where anything goes, doesn’t have to say a word for both of them to move around each other so he can get to the cabinet right next to the sink. Buck’s kitchen is as familiar a place as his own and Eddie—doesn’t really know what to do with that.

There’s been this itch under his skin lately—more than usual—an uncomfortable feeling that he should have been more honest with Pepa. That he should have just looked her in the eye and said, “It’s okay, I’m not lonely, I’m not stuck, you don’t have to worry about me because I have Buck and Chris.”

But there’s fear with the itch—what if she didn’t understand what he meant? What if she did, seeing right through him to all the things he’s too scared to put into words? Eddie isn’t sure which option makes him more anxious.

Buck drains the dishwater from the sink and goes to the fridge. He holds up a beer, a silent offering, but Eddie shakes his head. Buck grabs out the water pitcher instead, favouring his left hand when he reaches up to get two glasses to pour the water into. Eddie takes them without being asked, moving to the couch, and he hears the fridge door open and close one more time before Buck joins him with an ice pack in his hand. There’s enough space for them to spread out at each end, but he sits down in the middle of the couch and presses the ice pack against his shoulder with a sigh, sinking back against the cushions. It brings them even closer together, which. That’s probably just a coincidence.

“Overdid it a bit, huh?”

Buck groans. “Don’t tell Hen.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips: your secret is safe with me.

“You wanna take anything?” he asks, muscles half tensed to get up and grab the painkillers before Buck shakes his head.

“It’s not too bad,” he says, smiling reassuringly. “The meatballs were worth it, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pokes him in the stomach, smiling while Buck squirms away.

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” he teases. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a glowing five-star review.”

“Shut up,” Buck complains, all laughter and no heat. “Was it as good as Bobby’s?”

“Not even close.”

Buck pokes him in retaliation, fingers digging in to tickle under Eddie’s ribs, and he chokes on a hastily-swallowed yelp. It comes out as an embarrassing wheezing-honk sound and Buck laughs so hard he has to abandon his assault on Eddie to clutch his own sides instead.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears in his eyes. “Ow.”

“That’s what you get,” Eddie tells him primly, but he reaches out and grabs the ice pack to hold it in place against Buck’s shoulder. Buck takes a deep breath, holding it, then releases it in another fit of giggles. Deep breath, hold it, hold it, giggles. It’s contagious; Eddie wants to laugh just because Buck is laughing. He’s happy, just because Buck is happy. If Buck was sad right now, he knows he’d be sad too, just because it’s Buck.

(“Does he know?” Frank asked six months ago.

“Know what?” Running his thumb nail up and down the grooves in his coffee cup instead of making eye contact.

“Eddie.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes—sometimes I think he must because, how could he not? But he’s never said anything.”

“Well.” In that tone that meant Frank was about to say something completely reasonable and annoying. “Have you said anything?”

Eddie’s nail punched a hole through the cardboard cup and he cursed as warm coffee dribbled onto his pants. Buck would take one look at it when he got home and know that something had happened; Eddie could see the look on his face already, soft and concerned and so eager to make him feel better.

“No,” he finally answered. “I haven’t said anything.”

Frank made a sound—Eddie’s brain translated it to I can’t believe I’m being paid to deal with this lovesick idiot—and then he very reasonably, very annoyingly, suggested, “Maybe you should.”

Yeah. Spoiler alert: Eddie didn’t.)

“Hey,” he says, when the laughter has fizzled out, Buck slumped back against the couch with his eyes closed and Eddie closer than he really needs to be to keep the ice pack on his shoulder. It’s starting to numb his hand even with a tea towel wrapped around it, but he doesn’t let go. “Tell me the truth.”

A sound in the back of Buck’s throat, halfway to a question. Eddie wants to run his fingers through the curls that have been left loose after his post-shift shower. He wants to smooth the wrinkles in the front of Buck’s shirt, just to feel the beat of his heart underneath. He wishes Frank had never told him that he’s allowed to want things because now all he can think about is how much he wants Buck, all the time, in every way.

It’s dangerous: wanting things.

(“You don’t want to break your tia’s heart.”

“Or mine,” Vanessa said. “You get that, don’t you?”

And the way she looked at him—through him—like she could already see all the places where his heart was intertwined with someone else—

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I do.”)

“How are you really feeling?” he asks, hand curled in his lap so he doesn’t reach out.

Buck’s eyes open, his nose scrunching at the question.

“Tired,” he admits. “The carb crash is so real.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, more fond than annoyed. “Yeah, I’m sure it has nothing to do with being hurt, or calls keeping us up half the night.”

nothing to do with you dying not even two months ago

Buck pinches his thumb and index finger together, one eye squinted slightly. “Only a little hurt.”

A little is enough.

“I like it better when you’re not hurt at all,” Eddie tells him, and it’s not the first time he’s said those words, not even the second or the third, but something about the way Buck looks at him now—

Something about how close they are, and the family meal they just had, and Christopher mumbling to himself at the kitchen table—

Something Eddie can’t keep out of his voice and his eyes and his heart—

“Eds,” Buck says, little more than a breath, and Eddie knows—he knows—that if he leaned in and kissed him right now, Buck would kiss back.

He sits back instead. Reaches for the glass of water on the coffee table just so he can do something that isn’t stare lovingly into his best friend’s eyes. His skin itches and itches and itches.

“Eddie.” Stronger this time, fingers circling around Eddie’s wrist. “I’m okay.”

Eddie glances at Christopher—headphones still on, absorbed in his book report—and when he looks back, Buck’s eyes are wide and earnest. Eddie thinks about saying: you could so easily have not been okay. He thinks about saying: you don’t have to be okay all the time, not with me. He thinks about being brave—I love you—then shies away from it just as fast.

“Just—let us take care of you?”

Buck chews on his lip. More hesitant, Eddie thinks, than the question the deserves.

“I thought you had another date tonight,” he says eventually.

Aimee. A friend of a friend’s daughter who just moved to LA. She teaches kindergarten, Pepa told him. You’ll give her a chance, won’t you?

“I’ll cancel,” Eddie says, already preparing an apology to Pepa in his mind. “She’ll understand.”

Buck’s nose scrunches, like he doesn’t think she will, but he doesn’t fight it. “Okay,” he agrees, hand twitching up towards his shoulder, then falling back to his lap. “If you’re sure.”

Some days, Buck and Christopher are the only things Eddie is sure of.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling, and he feels how fond it is but can’t bring himself to care if it shows his hand. “I’m sure.”

Buck smiles back, warm and soft, the whole moment fuzzy around the edges, and—

Eddie has that realisation again: if he leaned in and kissed him right now, Buck would kiss back. It would be so easy, he thinks, except for how it would be the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

“So,” he says instead, clinging to safer ground. “Meds?”

He raises his eyebrows and Buck sighs, head tipping back against the couch.

“Fine,” he tells the ceiling. “Half a dose.”

“And I’m cooking dinner,” Eddie adds, standing up, their hands touching for one electric second as Buck takes over holding the ice pack against his shoulder.

He sighs again, more put on this time. “You’re so bossy.”

Eddie grins, unable to resist poking. “Would you prefer I call Maddie to come look after you?”

It’s a joke—it’s always so easy to joke around with Buck—so it startles him, takes his breath away a little, when Buck’s answer comes thick with sincerity: “You’re better at it.”

You don’t know her the way he does, he told Buck once, Maddie’s absence and Chimney’s worry a gaping wound around them. And it’s not the same thing, it’s not like that at all—they’re not together like that—but here the words are, pushing into Eddie’s mind anyway. It’s an effort to shrug them away. An effort to keep his voice light as he answers, “Well, you’re pretty good at taking care of me too.”

Buck is beautiful when he smiles. Eddie shies away from that thought too as soon as it pops into his head—not for the first time, but increasingly more insistent every time it does.

“We make a good team,” Buck says, like it’s simple. Like it could always be that simple.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, that ever-present hope tightening its arms around him. “I guess we do.”

He doesn’t have to search to find the pain meds in Buck’s bathroom cabinet. They’re right there beside a spare pack of razors and a bottle of vitamin C that Buck restocks every time it expires but hardly ever uses, just like Eddie knew they would be. He used to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything, knowing his best friend’s apartment as well as he knows his own house. But every time they sit around that dining table and share a meal, he and Buck and Chris, a neat little family of three, it gets harder and harder to lie to himself.

Buck is right: they make a good team. One day, Eddie thinks he’ll be able to take a chance on that. Or maybe not much of a chance at all. A leap of faith, but the kind where his feet never leave the ground.

One day.

****

“So what did you tell her?” Buck asks later, dinner in the oven and the TV flickering blue light through the room while Chris decides what game they should play. “Your date. Did she understand?”

“I told her the truth,” Eddie answers easily.

It’s sitting there in his text thread: I think I’m in love with my best friend.

Buck nods, toggling with the joystick of his controller. “So you’re going to reschedule?”

“Nah.” Eddie knocks their elbows together, almost an accident. “I don’t think I will.”

Buck really is beautiful when he smiles. Eddie lets himself look this time—lets himself imagine what it might be like to kiss that smile away—and this time it doesn’t feel so dangerous. It’s just that same steady hum in the back of his mind that he always feels with Buck and Chris: safe safe safe.

(Loved loved loved loved.)

He thinks one day might not be too far away after all.  

[seiya234]

for @dril-cipher because this is your fucking fault. also @marypsue for giving this perfectly good ape anxiety.

-----

Ian looked around.

Well, this certainly wasn't his beautiful house, that was for certain.

It looked uncomfortably like one of the designs for Grauntie Carla's house that Worris did for MTM. He sat at a kitchen table that had clearly been handmade by someone who mostly knew what they were doing; the table had been sanded down and sealed, but the surface was still bumpy and uneven. The walls were dressed with plaid wallpaper and covered in pictures, paintings, taxidermied creatures both real and unreal, old bottles, and a Bobby Big Mouth Big Boi Big Bass that had been popular when his grandparents were alive. The rug underneath him was a t-shirt rug, but Ian never knew they could be made big enough to cover an entire room. There was a cup of coffee poured for him, in a cup that read "Eye miss you!"

Ian sighed. This place was practically crumbling under the weight of all the meaning.

"I am getting a little tired of the Symbolism Room," he muttered to himself.

"Have you considered that a plain, empty room is in and of itself also imbued with symbolism?"

Ian whipped around.

A cartoonishly tall man walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in all black- black jeans, black dress shirt, black belt with a small silver and turquoise buckle- save for the white priest's collar around his neck. He had hair just like Ian's, albeit curlier, bare feet, and-

"Antlers?" Ian asked. It was probably rude but he was getting really tired of the Dreams of Great Import so....

"A long story," the man said with a grin, sitting across from Ian at the table. He too had a mug, though his read "I'm horny!" He caught Ian looking at it and smiled wanly. "My wife loved puns, though to be honest this isn't a pun so much as a bad joke."

(past tense)

Ian took a drink of his coffee; it was aggressively mediocre. "Alright, can you tell me why I'm here, so we can resolve whatever emotional issue has come up again, and I can get back to my regularly scheduled nothingness?"

Ian's words didn't get the slightest rise out of the other man which was... concerning. He worked best when people were mad.

"Certainly. I'm here because you're scared."

"I'm scared of a lot of things, you're going to need to try harder than that."

The man paused to take a drink of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the taste, then leaned back in his chair. "I'm here because when you get into the groove for Mizar the Magnificent, everything feels right in a way you don't feel most other times. I'm here because sometimes you turn off your prosthetic because it feels... right to only have the one eye. I'm here because... despite everyone assuring you that Bill can't come back, that you can't bring him back, you know that's not true." Another drink. "It would just take you fifteen minutes, if that."

Ian felt the blood drain from his face, spread his hands on the table to keep them from shaking.

He hadn't told even Mira about the first two things.

"Congratulations," Ian managed to drawl, "you know my deepest, darkest fears. Have a fucking cookie." It took some effort but he pushed himself back from the table, got out of the chair. "I'm done with this little game, so snooze you later, hit the road Jack, GO-"

The antlered man held up a hand. It was wreathed in blue flame, like the fire from a room he tried not to think about, like Alcor's fire

(like MY fire)

like the fire he felt blazing in lieu of his implant.

"Who are you?" Ian asked.

"I'm Henry. Henry Pines."

"I- oh." Well that was all the wind out of his sails right there. "Okay, wasn't expecting you to actually just tell me that, I thought there would be at least another two pages of banter before we got there. Thanks?"

"Of course."

"Though that name means like, nothing to me."

"Ah. I should have k-"

Henry disappeared. Ian was still in the room.

A minute passed.

He drank his coffee, which was now getting cold and sludgy.

"Oh, sorry about that."

Ian jumped, again, and turned around to face Henry, who was still barefoot and all in black, but now had laundry hanging from his antlers. "Seriously, I know this narrative calls for jump scares, but can you try to stop that?"

"My apologies. I'm still being digested."

"Digested-" Ian paused.

The blue fire.

The antlers.

The girl told him about one night.

"You're... you're Paloma."

A flash of long dark hair and flowering antlers and back to the man in black. "Among many other names, but yes."

"So when you say digested..."

"Di-Alcor ate me."

"He what."

Henry very primly sniffed. "I can see how my phrasing can be taken as a reference to oral sex but could we please attend to the matter at hand?"

"Which is? I feel like we're wildly off track."

"Fair. More coffee?"

Ian held out his mug and Henry poured from a handmade pitcher that somehow managed to perfectly recreate the effect of googly eyes in clay.

They sat for a moment, and drank their coffee, which was slightly better this time.

Finally, Henry began. "M-Mira is pregnant."

"She is... Oh stars is this going to be a weird fatherhood talk? Because full disrespect, I've gotten one of these from Alcor and that was bad enough."

"What on God's green earth did Di- Alcor have to say to you about that?"

"I think he was trying to tell me I would do a good job, but he ended up damning me with faint praise for about fifteen minutes and then ghosted me so, a solid 3 out of 10, points for effort I guess."

Henry frowned. "I am a little concerned that my- that he hasn't learned any social graces or niceties in a thousand years, or has willfully forgotten them-"

"It's not that," and now Ian just felt... cold. Empty. "It's Bill. It's always about Bill, always fucking WILL BE-"

"Your hair is on fire," Henry calmly noted.

It didn't feel like it was. That probably wasn't a good sign.

"Every time I think we're done with him, done and gone, something comes up, and we have to have the same conversation over and over and OVER-"

Ian ran a hand through the flames on his head. "And the worse thing is, this time it's all me. I can't stop thinking about Bill. And the baby. And what that means. Maybe it means nothing. Or everything. And Bill, Bill is like an itch under my skin

(a fire)

and the more I itch it, the itchier I become, and I can't. Stop. Thinking. About Me. No. Shit, wait. Him. Do you See?"

The room was silent for a minute.

"I held a knife to her throat once," Ian finally managed to get out. "Infants, they're so, so much easier than adults. Their bodies are so soft and squishy." He looked at Henry, who had been patiently listening, hands folded, collar white as bone. "I have no idea why I'm telling you any of this."

"I have been told by my wife before that I have a 'secret telling kind of face.'"

"Sounds like something Mira would say."

Henry smiled wanly, but went on. "I'm here because I know what all of this feels like."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"No, honestly, I do. I thought you could use an ear and some advice-."

That old familiar feeling of squirrels eating his brain, of his heart stuttering in his chest, the great massive snarl barely contained in his skin up and out and "You have no idea what I need to keep inside of me."

Henry reached across the table, and laid a hand on Ian's arm and-

(ian was in a forest. it was dark and he tried to walk, tried to run, but he couldn't he was pushed down face first into the dirt from the feeling of anger, anger that at one point may have had a reason behind but that reason was long forgotten and now the anger was a self feeding, self regulating beast

ian was in a forest and he felt small, so horrifically small, so viscerally aware that there were things (people) that could hurt him, hurt him and even kill him, and nothing or no one in the forest would DO anything about it.

ian was in a forest and rising above him was a tree but haha not really that wasn't a tree that was a beast a monster a thing no it was

Death.)

-patted it gently.

Or at least, Henry would have if Ian was still sitting at the table, and not, say, with his back against the wall and his chair toppled to the side of the table.

"You're-"

"I was. He came from me. I birthed him."

Even shit scared, Ian must have given Henry a look, because Henry said "Metaphorically. I've never gotten the full details about how that works because to be perfectly honest, Alcor doesn't even know."

Henry got up, and walked around the table.

"Hand up?"

"You going to inflict yet another horrific mental scar on me?"

"No. And my apologies. I really need to be better about telling, not showing." Henry paused. "Or is it the other way around? I am a little embarrassed to admit that despite my occupation, I am not well versed in the mechanics of storytelling."

"It depends," Ian said, and let himself be hauled up.

"It's... hard," Henry began as they sat back at the table. "To have to control yourself. To feel like if you loosen that control for even one second, all hell will break loose. Especially when you have had all hell break loose before."

A dark look passed across Henry's face, and Ian remembered that there were limbs on those limbs in the forest.

A lot of them.

"I tried, for several years, to keep myself as tamped down as firmly as possible. And even before-" he waved a hand to indicate the antlers, the weird dreamscape symbolism bullshit room- "all of this, I kept fighting myself, every single day, to stay in control. Because control was all I had. Because control was the only thing that could save myself, could keep me from harming others."

"Okay, so what extremely traumatic life changing event happened to you that made you change your mind?"

"I won't bore you with the details, save to say I have never liked trophy hunters. But I realized in that time that my control.. it was brittle steel. It was weak from having to hold in so much, for so long, and then it shattered under stress."

"Okay, but most people don't have monsters tucked up in their souls."

"Fair but look. The point is, the power you have inside of you. It's not inherently good or bad- let me finish Ian Thomas Beale-"

(Ian's mouth audibly snapped shut)

"- it just is. Bill used his power for ill. Just because that power is there doesn't mean you have to use it. Or if you do, that it would be for ill."

"That's too much like temptation for me," Ian finally said, quietly.

"I know. I'm not saying you have to. Hell, I'm not even saying that this dream is going to magically cure you of your fears and control issues-"

"Because that would be too easy."

Henry nodded. "Oh of course. My apologies, I am all over the place today-"

"On account of being digested."

"Yes, lets go with that. No, I guess I just wanted to say, as trite as it sounds... try to relax."

"What if I hurt them?"

Henry rolled his eyes, which was a little incongruous with the impression Ian had gotten from him. "There is no universe where Ian Beale as he is now, would hurt Mira Ramachandran, or their baby. Honestly, you're more likely to hurt other people who hurt them, which probably is not great, but I am certainly not one to judge."

(so many limbs)

"I have literally been under tremendous stress my whole life, even before finding out about the past life murder triangle."

"Trust me, I know. But just... from one monster to another? It's okay to relax. It's okay to let that control loosen for a minute. The world won't end-"

"But it almost did. Twice. Maybe three times? It's hard for me to remember."

"But it didn't."

Ian... he must have looked as lost as he felt, because Henry smiled, sadly.

"I know you hear this from Mira, and from your friends, and even occasionally from Alcor, but I thought it would help to hear it from a stranger too."

Ian thought for a second.

"I think... it kind of did? Or maybe I'm just saying this to get out of this dream because I'm getting tired of talking. I don't know."

"You probably won't remember this dream up here-" Henry tapped his head. "-but you will here-" and he tapped his chest. "-and that's all that really matters to me."

"That's kind of corny."

"I was not a corny man when I was alive, let me indulge a little bit."

Henry leaned over, and gently kissed Ian on the forehead. "Keep her safe."

Ian realized, far too late, who he had been really, truly talking to this whole time, and it felt like his bowels were turning to water. But he managed to creak out an "Of course," before everything went dark.

---

The last few weeks had been hard for Mira, considering the massive amount of emotional labor she was doing for both her brother and her husband. Alcor was probably a lost cause at this point, but with Ian...

She sighed.

She understood, really, she did, but she was tired and-

"Hey."

She rolled over, to see Ian looking at her. "Hey back. You seem... relaxed?"

Ian smiled, and laid a hand on her stomach, which was still relatively flat.

"Yeah. I don't know I think... I think I've had my head up my ass for the last month, about all of this."

"You have."

"And I owe you an apology."

"Apology accepted if you can grab the peanut butter for me before I throw up."

"Of course."

Ian got up. He wasn't sure why it felt like the fire under his skin had died down, why it felt like he could handle his shit a little better today than even yesterday, but for once, he was not going to look this gift horse in the mouth.

[starlitangels]

Costumes

I missed my children OMG it feels so nice to have them back 1.9k words

—

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Natalie shouted. Her little feet thundered down the stairs. She had excitement in her voice but David still looked up in concern. "Look, look, look!"

She ran into view around the corner.

"Ta-daaa!" She spun in a circle.

Oh, thank God, David thought.

His six-year-old daughter was standing in a black-and-white checkered overall dress with a white shirt underneath and her red rain boots. Her hair had been pulled into a pair of pigtail braids. There was a basket on her arm.

The obvious clue of her costume was the vibrant red cape with the hood pulled up and bobby-pinned to her hairline.

His mate had, once again, outdone themself. Not that he was surprised. They loved dressing the kids up for Halloween. And them being them, always had to be Extra™ about it.

"You look so good, Natty!" David said with a small smile.

She giggled and ran at him, leaping for a hug. David caught her and hoisted her up to sit her on his hip.

"Are you excited to wear your costume to school today?"

She nodded so hard it seemed like she'd almost throw her hood off even with the bobby pins. "Uh-huh! It's gonna be so fun!" She balled her fist in the chest of David's shirt. "Guess what Gabe's going as!"

David leaned closer to her, conspiratorially (as if his mate hadn't told him months ago). "Who?" he asked quietly.

Natty giggled again. "I'll give you a hint! It goes with my costume."

David pursed his lips. "Hmm... who are you for Halloween again?"

His baby laughed. "Daaaaaddy! I'm Little Red Riding Hood!"

"Oh! Of course." He booped the end of her little nose. She squeaked through her giggling. God, she took after his mate. "So then I'm guessing Gabriel is... a loaf of bread."

She shook her head—her whole body following with the enthusiasm of the movement. "Nooooo!"

"Is your brother... a cookie?"

She shook again. "No!"

"Hmm... is he the grandmother?"

She squealed with laughter. "No!"

"Well, then, I'm stumped."

"Daaaaaddy!" Natalie protested. "It's not that hard!"

At that moment, another set of footsteps thundered down the stairs. "Rrraaawwwrrr!" Eight-year-old Gabriel tore into the room in a button-down plaid flannel and jeans. There were tufts of fake fur glued to his hands and the sides of his face, all disappearing under his shirt. He had some fake teeth in his mouth. His face had been dusted in a slight layer of paint to match the fake fur better and the end of his nose had been blackened in a triangle with some face paint.

Natalie shrieked in delight and squirmed in David's hold to put her dad between her and her brother.

"I am the Big, Bad Wolf!" Gabriel cried, trying to growl and failing through the fake plastic teeth in his mouth.

David chuckled quietly. "You will be one day," he said.

Gabriel preened. "I know! I'm excited."

"I'm gonna be even bigger!" Natalie teased.

Gabriel blew a raspberry. "No you won't! You're a girl!"

Natalie growled—more successfully than her brother if David was honest—and moved to lunge for her brother. David held her tighter to him. "Nope," he said. "You're not going to ruin your costumes before you get to school."

"Daaad! He's being mean to me!" Natalie protested.

"Gabriel. Be nice to Natalie. Natalie, no tackling your brother while you're both dressed up."

Natalie bared her teeth in a childish snarl at Gabriel. Who tried to do the same around the plastic ones in his mouth.

David's mate made it down the stairs at that point. Bits of face paint stained their fingertips where they'd been helping Gabriel. They smiled at the sight of Natalie fighting to free herself from David's hold to attack her brother. David met his mate's eyes. They smiled.

"Alright you two," David said with the quiet, firm, but loving authority of a man who'd been an alpha long before he was a father. "Let's get in the car."

Gabriel grabbed his backpack and David gave both the kids their lunchboxes after setting Natalie back on her feet. They both went running for David's mate's car—where Natalie's car seat and Gabriel's booster seat were buckled in. David and his mate put the kids in their seats and piled into the car to drive them to school.

Natalie filled the whole five-minute drive with rambling. Guessing what her classmates were gonna be dressed up as, expressing excitement for Trick-or-Treating, and so on. Another normal morning for the Shaw family.

When they got to the school and started getting the kids out of their seats, a familiar little voice "Rawr"ed from nearby.

Gabriel leapt from his booster seat in time to collide with Evelyn—who was dressed as Spider-Man. Asher was laughing a couple cars down the drop-off lane as he shut the back door to his mate's car. He jogged over while Gabriel and Evelyn wrestled. Gently, so they didn't mess up their costumes. Asher leaned against David's mate's car with his arms folded.

"I never want them to grow up," he said softly. "They've grown up enough. They can stop now."

David couldn't help but chuckle in quiet, bittersweet agreement. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Uncle Aaaaash!" Natalie exclaimed, barreling into Asher's legs for a hug.

"Oof! There's that strong girl!" Asher said, bending and scooping her into the air while she screamed in excitement. She kicked her legs. "How are you doing, Natty?"

"Put me down!"

Asher kissed the top of Natalie's hood and set her down. David's mate caught her hand before she could run off. They smiled at David. "I'll walk her to her classroom. Make sure Gabriel gets inside?"

"Of course."

They nodded and handed Natalie her tiny backpack and lunchbox before walking off holding her hand.

David and Asher watched the two of them go. Gabriel and Evelyn kept wrestling, like they didn't even notice.

"You ever wonder if we made the right choice?" Asher asked.

"Meaning?"

"Sending them to normal elementary school. Instead of the same school Lily, Danny, and Micah go to?" Despite Asher still being Asher, he'd improved a bit at not breaching covert in public.

"No. I don't wonder. Both of our mates thought it was important for our kids to have some normal schooling before puberty. And now that they're here, I agree with them both. I think it's done our kids a lot of good."

Asher sighed. "Just don't want to break their hearts when they go to middle school and lose all their friends."

David leveled a look at Asher that was so full of sarcasm it would have frightened a lesser wolf. "I don't think our girls could lose their friends if their friends wanted them to," David said. "Or have you not noticed we've got the most gregarious girls in the pa—family?"

Asher laughed. "Touché," he said. "And good point." Asher shoved off David's mate's car and snatched Evelyn around the waist. "Nuh-uh-uh, Ev. No pulling on Gabriel's costume."

Evelyn growled, her warm black curls shaking in the weak autumn morning sunlight.

"C'mon, my little monster. Let's get you to your classroom."

Evelyn snapped her teeth playfully at her dad, who wasn't fazed and just laughed.

Gabriel turned to David with wide eyes. The same green as David's own. "Time to go already?" he asked.

"Yeah. But today's gonna be fun. You're gonna have a good time and you'll be home before you know it." David grabbed Gabriel's backpack and lunchbox and handed them to his son. Gabriel shimmied his backpack onto his shoulders and held a hand out.

David took it and walked Gabriel to class.

Gabriel hugged David around the middle before going into his classroom. David passed a friendly wave to Gabriel's teacher before going back to the car. Asher waved to him before driving off himself.

David waited for his mate to come back. "Ash is right," David said to his mate when they returned from dropping off Natty at her classroom.

"That's rare coming from you. About what?"

"The kids are getting too big. They need to stop growing up now."

David's mate gave him a smile. "Awww. Sappy. It's sweet." They popped a kiss on his jaw and went to get in the car.

David climbed in as well. "I just don't want to miss any of this. One day they're gonna be teenagers and they're gonna hate us."

"You think so?"

"Isn't that what teenagers do?"

"I didn't. Did you?"

David thought about his dad. "... No."

His mate shrugged. "Then maybe we'll get lucky."

—

Ten Years Later...

—

"Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Natalie ran down the stairs, a beaming smile on her face. Micah Collins and Danny Greer close on her heels. All three were dressed up. Natalie had on a black cloak and purple, gothic dress with fake fangs in her mouth.

David looked up from his laptop on the kitchen counter. "What is it?"

"Micah's uncle is gonna come pick us up and we're gonna take Rose Trick-or-Treating, if that's okay." Natalie pointed over her shoulder. Micah's vibrant cyan pixie cut had been sprayed white. She looked supremely out-of-character, dressed as a fairy. The glitter and the short pink-and-green dress contrasted with her claw scars from shifter wrestling.

David raised his eyebrows. "Did you ask—"

"Yes, yes. Your mate said yes, Uncle Milo and his mate said yes. Micah's parents said yes. Micah's uncle said yes," Natalie said. "Just hoping for you." She gave him an anticipatory smile.

David gave his daughter a small grin. "Then go ahead."

Natalie beamed and bounced a little in excitement. "Thanks Dad!" she rushed forward and kissed his cheek around the fake fangs in her mouth. "I've got my phone. We'll be back by ten!"

Micah and Danny both grabbed at her arms and the three of them all rushed out of the house, talking excitedly and clinging to one another. Danny tripped over his Superman cape. Natalie and Micah caught him. "Love you!" Natalie shouted over her shoulder. The front door shut behind them right as David caught a glimpse of Vincent Solaire's Porsche SUV parked on the curb.

The three climbed into the SUV. Micah in the front, Danny and Natalie with Rose in the back.

Vincent gave David a wave. David returned it before the car drove off.

David's mate appeared. "Natty and her Musketeers leave?"

"That would have been a good costume for them this year," David deadpanned. "Yeah. Vincent just picked them up."

His mate nodded. "Good thing Rose is eleven and still can Trick-or-Treat so those three can 'supervise'," his mate remarked, perching on his lap. He wrapped his arms around them and rested his forehead on their arm. Their other hand played with his hair.

Upstairs, Gabriel was yelling at Evelyn and Lily while the three played a video game together.

David felt his mate rest their cheek on his head. "Wanna go downstairs and watch a movie?"

David blinked. "Sure. Which one?"

"That one that scares Gabriel."

"Guaranteeing we get a couple hours alone, angel?" he asked, almost teasing.

"I plead the fifth," they replied, sliding off his lap.

With a low growl, David pursued his laughing mate down the stairs.

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @pinksparkl @arialikestea @shellssstuff

[abbatoirablaze]

Matched, Elle, Chapter 2

Word Count:  2.2k

Warnings:  cursing, mentions of being hit, being punched, being pistol-whipped, being drugged, noncon relationship. 

“Fucking bitch!” he growled as he continued to rub the bridge of his nose.  Your delta couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched Lloyd glaring at you, “Shut the hell up, Bobby.  What are you even laughing at?  She could have just as easily did this to you...”

“But she didn’t,” he smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest, “because I’m smart enough to know when to give a woman her space.”

“I know when to give a woman her space,” he mocked angrily, sneering at you once more, “yeah, well did you know she had a mean right hook?  Jesus, I think she broke my fucking nose.”

“If you bothered to read her profile when we got her back, or even the first time we matched her, then you would have known,” he pointed out, “she was the reigning quadrant champ in her weight league when she was younger for boxing.”

“Oh, look at me, I’m Bobby and I know everything,” Lloyd mocked once more, “fucking prick.”

“He’s supposed to be my alpha?” you teased, giving the delta a look. 

Bobby snickered and Lloyd shot the two of you another look of rage.

“I’m not a whiny little sigma bitch if that's what you're insinuating,” he spat, “I’m an alpha.  A pack leader.  And I take what is rightfully mine.  That includes you, Elle!”   

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time...” Bobby added in.  He ran a hand over his buzzcut length hair, and you found yourself wondering if he’d done that recently, “We’ve been looking for you a very long time, Ellie Bear.”

Your stomach twisted into a knot, “Wh-what did you just call me?”

“Ellie bear,” he said in a softer tone, “is that a name that you don’t like?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes before you could stop them, “no-no, it’s-my family used to call me that...I-no ones called me that in years.”

“What did they call you?”

“Whatever,” you shrugged, pulling on the sleeves of your worn down jacket, “I-you don’t get friendly enough with people and be able to stay on the run for as long as I was...and it’s better to disguise yourself as a boy so there’s less questions in general.  The quadrants don’t care about another inlet boy.”

“Well, you’re not on the run any longer...” he said with a sad smile, “you can come home to us, and we’ll take care of you...”

“Yeah, we’ll take care of you really good, Ellie.”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, “don’t call me that name.  I didn’t go by it for nine years when I was on the run from you and-“

“And now that you’re not on the run, you will go by it.  Because it’s your name, Elle,” Lloyd spat, speaking up, “speaking of how much time you managed to waste by avoiding us, they’re going to collar you.  Least until we’re sure that you won’t run again.”

Your heart rate spiked as you looked between the two men, “What?  C-Collar me?  But why?  You know where I am.  I-you two caught me...”

Lloyd smirked, a smug look crossing his features, “what?  Don’t like that we can’t trust you, princess? Or you don't like the thought that now you can't outrun us again?”

“I-“

“Get over it,” he growled, “because of your little stunt, they’re going to be all over you like white on rice. And so will we!”

You felt the anxiety dwelling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of being collared. 

When you were younger, you’d seen it a few times, mainly on at-risk women who were likely to run away. 

And girls from the inlet who wouldn’t be able to score high enough for a well-to-do man, but who’s parents needed money, so they were sold for the first four years to pleasure houses to pay their family debts.

“I-I can’t be collared,” you said quickly, rising from your seat.  You rushed Bobby, putting your hands on his chest.  His shirt wrinkled underneath your fingertips, “P-please.  I can’t.  They-that’s too demeaning.  You can’t let-“

“Not up to me, sweetheart,” he frowned sympathetically with a shrug.  He pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and lit up, inhaling deeply before tucking the pack back into his pocket, “that decision is on our alpha.  And if Lloyd can’t trust you, neither can any of us. And then it’s what it is. It's happening.”

You looked once more to Lloyd as Bobby exhaled, the cloud of smoke enveloping you. 

And a new, bitter taste filled your mouth as a new level of his smug aura filled the small intake space.

“Wanna get on your knees and start begging, cupcake?” he asked with a shit-eating grin, “prove you wanna be with us, and I might just let you pick out a designer collar instead of one of those ugly basic things.”

“You’re disgusting!” you spat, glaring at the man.

“Oh, I’ll win you over one day,” he smirked, “we scored too closely on our tests for you not to fall in love with me.”

“No one could ever love you,” you rebuked, “keep your delusions to yourself, alpha.”

“You know, I almost regret pistol whipping you and knocking you out to get you back to HQ...until those pretty little lips open up...and god, when they do, part of me wishes I could do it all over again,” he said, before narrowing his eyes. You caught Bobby shooting him a glare, but he chose to ignore it, “think I might ask if they’ll allow me to muzzle you too.  It’s rare, but who knows...you are very high risk now that we’ve got you back. Run away once already...who knows what lies you’d spew to get away from us.”

Your jaw twitched, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me, pumpkin.”

You nearly stumbled over the threshold of the large home.  Bobby gave you a sympathetic look before turning to your alpha, “is all of this really necessary, Hansen?  She seemed civil enough in the intake room with just us...”

“I don’t trust her!” he said simply, before pulling on the leash once again, “come on, angel...we’re already late enough because you bit the tech who put the collar on you.”

You huffed under your breath, and he gave you a smile, “what was that, princess?  I couldn’t hear you over the muzzle!”

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he chuckled.

“Are you two going to act like this for the rest of our lives?” Bobby asked. 

Lloyd shrugged, his moustache lifting ever so slightly as he muttered a soft, “depends on her...she gives us some brats as insurance, maybe she’ll lose the collar and muzzle and leash...til then...that’s on each of you when you have your private time with her.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and Bobby shook his head, “it’s not what you think, Ellie.  I-“

“Oh, it’s exactly what she thinks,” Lloyd smirked, “you see, Elle, we have a special little set up here...each of us have a wing in the house where we can utilize it however, we see fit...my goals are great sex and a few brats...you know, be a real family man...probably make Johnny, Charles, and Jefferson raise em, but that’s a problem for another day...Bobby here is surprisingly up for filling this fucking place with his little bastards too.  See, nine years ago if you’d have met him he was on my page...just wanted a good girl to drain our balls and keep the halls quiet...but that pack he turned in before you did a number on him...he got a little taste of being an alpha when he found out about that sigma fuck imposter and he had to play my role...ever since then he’s been daydreaming of dipping his dick in that sweet little honeypot of yours and coming out with a houseful of little carbon copies.  Charles is all about his ego, so keep sucking his dick dry and he probably won’t notice there’s silence in his wing.  He wants a prim and proper lady and thought he had it in you with your hoity toity government family, but he’ll be in for a shocker when he sees just how wrong he was.  And as for Jefferson and Johnny...well, they are both a little squirrely and up for anything.  Could charm the pants off anyone, but they’re pretty fucking useless otherwise...honestly, you could probably get either one of them to turn off the lights and suck good old Chucky boy dry and spend some more time in my bed if you really wanted to.”  

You groaned, your stomach turning at the thought of spending any alone time with the man who was designated as your alpha. 

Bobby chuckled when he caught your reaction, “I’m sure she’ll cherish all the time she has away from you, Lloyd...just like the rest of us do.”

“I’ll remind you that I’m your alpha,” he grumbled, following the delta further into the house, “and I-“

“WELCOME HOME!” two of the three remaining men cheered when you three rounded the corner.  They had been blowing noisemakers and waving around ribbons, but stopped when they saw how Lloyd was leading you in.

“What the actual fuck?” Jefferson asked, his brow quirking at you as the noise maker fell from his mouth, “what did you do to her, Lloyd?”

“What did you do to our flower?” Johnny asked, rushing you. 

You immediately went to take a step back, but stopped when the leash kept you in place. 

“Oh my god, what happened to your face?” Jefferson asked as he turned his attention to Lloyd.  Lloyd sneered at him.

“Alright, back it up, Jefferson,” he grumbled, “what happened was that I claimed our little princess here and brought her home to us once and for all.  You’re welcome!”

“Everyone...this is Ellie...” Bobby smiled proudly, “she beat the shit out of Lloyd when he cornered her.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Charles grumbled as he downed his drink and put the rocks glass back on the counter, “this is what we waited for and she’s fucking feral!”

“She-she’s just a little rough around the edges, Charles...” Jefferson tried, giving him a soft look, “give her a chance.”

You frowned as he picked up the bottle of scotch and started out of the kitchen.

“I’m going to be in my wing if any of you need me,” he grumbled, not bothering to look back as he disappeared down the hall, “call me when she learns how to speak English and act like a woman and not a beast.”

“He uh-he’s been a little moody since he was pulled from his last match.” Johnny tried to apologize.

“You’re not supposed to tell her about that!” Jefferson hissed, hitting Johnny in the arm.  Your eyes snapped to Lloyds, the conversation replaying in your head.  He averted your gaze.

“Look, we all said yes,” Johnny said quickly, as he undid the leash and pulled off your muzzle, “we could have said no when Lloyd approached us about being pulled from our matches, but you are the highest any of us have ever scored, and-“

But you had immediately turned your attention back to Lloyd, a new anger pulsing through you, “YOU RIPPED THEM ALL FROM OTHER MATCHES?  YOU SAID THEY ALL FELL APART!”

“Hey-stop hitting me-CUPCAKE-STOP IT!” he yelled, “BOBBY!”

Bobby wrapped his arms around you from behind and you tried to fight him off, but he was too big. 

“PUT ME DOWN!” you squealed, “Put me down.  I-“

You were muzzled once more when Lloyd ripped the device from Johnny’s hands, “you fucking idiot.  She didn’t know any of that.  This is why you need to think before you speak, Storm.”

You were fighting in Bobby’s arms, and your hair was in your face, but you didn’t let that stop you.  You could hear fumbling from beside you as Johnny apologized to Lloyd and Jefferson asked him, “What are you doing?”

A pinch in your arm made you kick even harder, if only for a second before a warmth flooded through your body. 

“This is why I said no parties,” Lloyd spat angrily, “I knew that she’d be damned near feral when we found her.  For fucks sakes, she’s been alone for nine years without any of us.  Bobby, is the sedative kicking in?”

“Yeah?” he nodded, the timbre of his voice softly lulling you into a darkness, “I can feel her heartrate slowing down...and she’s still squirming, but not as much.”

“Put her in your room for the night...but make sure that she’s tied down,” he huffed, “we don’t need her escaping us yet again.”

“Yeah...” You felt yourself shift in Bobby’s arms and suddenly you were seeing images of his face.    Pictures entered your mind of nine years ago when he had his long hair and aviators. 

Your hand reached up and you stroked his cheek and it was back to his buzzcut and sad eyes, “Pretty, pretty man...”

He took a sad, deep sigh, looking at you for a moment as he started down another hall, “it’ll get better, Ellie...it’ll all be okay, I promise.”

And then your world went dark.

Chapter 3

[pkg4mumtown]

Burning

Pairing: Bobby Nash x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

AO3 (highly reccomend reading on AO3 for the iOS workskin): Read Here

Summary: You’re finally cleared by your doctor for normal activities—not by your Captain of course—but Athena thinks you two can bend the rules a little bit. What happens when you finally run into the 118 team that Athena has mentioned?

A/N: My first 9-1-1 fic! It’s been a long time coming! Takes place a few months or more after the tsunami episode, so the timeline might not be all correct but…oh well. As much as I adore Bathena, it’s not established in this fic and for all intents and purposes, they’re just friends. There is art scattered in the fic and there is my interpretation of the main character but in no way is that how he has to look—there are no specific descriptors in the writing for hair, eyes, skin color, etc. By all means, if you’d like to create your own version of him, I’d love to see it!

Warnings: canon typical injuries, male!reader (no y/n), mentions of blood and burns, first kiss, Bi!Bobby, older man/younger man, meet cute

“Sergeant Grant,” I grinned with a sing-songy lilt to my voice, leaning back in my seat as I looked up at her.

Groaning and flexing my forearm for the fourth time that morning, I sighed and closed the file on my desk and pushed it aside. I reached for my coffee mug with my good hand before pulling it back and reaching for it with the arm I could actually use now. I grimaced as lukewarm liquid touched my lips, having half a mind to get up and warm it up when I heard a couple short raps on the doorframe of the office I was inhabiting in the short term.

“How’s the arm doing, Officer?” she grinned with her voice equally as playful while dropping my last name, with her own coffee clasped between her hands.

“Oh you know…” I shrugged, putting it through some motions. “Doc said I didn’t have to wear a sling anymore and I can start working it out again at a hundred percent, so that’s good.”

“If it's any consolation, you don’t look like you lost muscle in that arm,” she pursed her lips and laughed.

“It’s nice to know someone’s looking,” I chuckled, taking another disgusting sip. “So, what can I do for you?”

“It’s more like what I can do for you,” she sauntered in and took a seat across from me. “I spoke to Cap and she might have agreed for me to take you out on patrol with me.”

“No…” I breathed in disbelief, knowing full well the Captain had just told me I wasn’t cleared for leading field work yet or training any new officers.

“Unless you’re too busy, of course,” Athena dismissed, scooting her chair back and standing up, gesturing to the pile of folders on my desk with her eyebrows.

“Not too busy!” I exclaimed quickly, standing before she could leave the room. “It’s just busy work and evaluations anyway…”

“Are you su—“

“—very sure,” I responded before she could finish, grabbing my bag and vest for patrol from the floor next to me.

Athena simply gave me an amused grin and nodded her head for me to follow her out.

“Don’t laugh at me, I was going crazy stuck to a desk, Athena.”

“I’m not surprised, you hyperactive man-baby.”

—

We prepped her patrol car, making sure everything was situated and tossing my bag in the trunk of the Explorer. I hesitated in the back, looking at my body armor secured to my bag. Before the tsunami, I would have had it on as soon as I got to the station, but being on desk duty for the last few months, I hadn’t needed it. It was unlikely I would need it in Athena’s beat, but I knew I would feel less uneasy with it on.

Now, I just had to get it on without completely disrobing or jostling my shirt-stays. As I contemplated my predicament, I undid my uniform shirt all the way down to my belt. I opened the Velcro flaps on my vest and began an awkward shimmy of sliding the back of the vest underneath and behind my collar, sliding my head through the middle, and letting the front flap over my chest. I rolled my shoulders to let it fall in place on its own and tugged my open shirt to get any material stuck underneath the vest out. When I was situated, I closed up the Velcro sides snuggly and buttoned up my shirt.

“Are you lost or—“ Athena asked impatiently—having already checked to make sure the vehicle was in order—coming around to the back of the patrol vehicle while I fussed with my buttons.

“Sorry, one sec,” I offered apologetically.

“I’m not taking you to any high risk calls, so don’t get too excited,” she laughed saying my name like that of an over-eager child. “Cap would have my head.”

“Hey, take it easy on me, Athena. I used to work narcotics and those calls were never chill, so this puts me at ease a little.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, before I tell Cap about that very non regulation patch on your body armor,” she gave me a pointed look, glancing down at the terrible sewing job I had done on my body armor that held a small pansexual flag. The Sergeant pushed her sunglasses up to her face but not before winking in my direction to let me know she was joking.

Piling in to the Explorer, Athena immediately got on the radio, “This is 727-A-30, we are 10-8.”

I tuned out the radio conversation after that, knowing Athena would be giving our info to dispatch quickly as we pulled out of the station. 

—

We started patrolling her beat, finding it fairly quiet but knowing better than to voice that out loud. Not twenty minutes into our patrol shift, did Athena’s phone start pinging messages in quick succession from where it hung in the dash mount. 

“Damn, ‘Thena, you got a hot date or what?” I snorted, trying to sneakily grab her phone but telegraphing my movements purposely so she’d slap me away.

“Oh shut it,” she slapped my arm. “Your doctor cleared you so I won’t feel bad if I have to hit you harder.”

“I expect nothing less, sarge,” I grinned. “But, come on, you know I love me some chisme, cough it up.”

“It’s nothing,” she rolled her eyes, quickly replying as we stopped at a red light.

“Oooh, is it about me?” I waggled my eyebrows, while she gave me a blank stare from behind her sunglasses.

The patrol car was silent for a few moments, the only sound being from outside the car and the radio faintly playing.

“Yes, it was about you,” I finally heard her mumble.

“I knew it! Let me see!” I made grabby hands for her phone.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she sighed and tossed the phone in my lap.

I laughed as I scrolled to the beginning of the conversation, someone by the name of “Maddie” starting off by asking who I was and why I was with Athena when she usually patrolled solo, with the eyes emoji to end the question.

The transfer from Pacific I told you about! - Athena

Ooh! Pics! I remember you talking about him! He sounds hot! -Maddie

Pics! -Hen

Show us! -Eddie

He’s a dork, but he’s cool. - Athena

Oh, he IS hot! -Maddie

Seconded! -Eddie

Hey! -Buck

Sorry… -Eddie

You’re right, though -Buck

I’m NOT asking out a subordinate, stop it -Athena

“Hey, I’m not a dork,” I teased.

“You so are.”

“How did this Maddie person know I was with you so fast anyway…?” I drifted off as another text came in.

“She’s a dispatcher. Everyone else there is from the 118. Her brother and boyfriend are with the 118, too. You’ll probably run into them a lot on patrol, that’s how I met them anyway.”

You definitely withheld the hot part from me, Athena -Bobby

Ooooo, Cap! -Hen

“Ooh, firefighters…mmm,” I sighed dreamily just to annoy her. “And who is Bobby? He looks fine as hell and he just called me hot.” I hurriedly clicked on his contact photo to get a better look.

“The 118 Captain. I knew your gay little heart wouldn’t be able to resist him,” she laughed and took the phone from me.

“I’m not gay, ‘Thena, I’m pansexual. You know this!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just only talk about the guys, so I forget sometimes.”

“That’s because they usually have the most drama,” I snorted. “So, you’re forgiven.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight, though. Well, I’ve never heard him talk about going out with any men, so I suppose I’m just assuming.”

“Oh, I will be devastated if he is,” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “What about you?”

“Nah, after Michael…I’ve been taking some time for me. I didn’t want to jump into anyone’s arms, I’m too focused on my kids after the divorce, you know?”

“Aw, yea, I understand. But, you know I’d take you out in a heartbeat if you let me,” I shot her a smile.

“You are too young for me!” She scoffed and shook her head.

“No, you’re just experienced,” I winked. “Also, I take offense to that. I’m in my thirties with two degrees and a career, ma’am.”

“Lord help me.”

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“My mother! She’s out of control! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!” wild screaming arises in the background, “Get away from me! YOU’VE OFFICIALLY LOST IT!”

“This is dispatch requesting a unit at 294 Moreno Drive. Reports of a family disturbance and possible assault.”

“Dispatch, this is 727-A-30 handling.”

“10-4, 727-A-30.”

Athena flicked the sirens and lights on and sighed heavily as we sped off to the call, “Oh boy.”

—

“727-A-30, 10-97 on scene,” Athena announced into her radio.

“I’m just saying, thin crust is delicious but my fat ass will eat the whole thing. So, I never allow myself to get it!” I groaned to Athena.

“Or you could have some self control lik—”

I glared at Athena and smirked thinking my glare cut her off but saw her staring past me.

“You’re psychotic! All of you!” a high pitched yell sounded as the front door of the house ripped open.

A middle-aged woman wielding a brightly colored, tissue paper covered stick stormed out of the house followed by a flock of elderly people.

“I told you not to come!” a half dressed older lady shouted back at her.

Oh shit. I immediately averted my eyes at the sight, hearing Athena chuckle behind me.

“It’s your birthday! I was just supposed to ignore that!?” She flailed the stick around.

“Obviously!”

“Mom, did you order strippers!?” the woman screamed, finally noticing Athena and me.

“Honey, you called 911,” an older man, likely her father, spoke up from next to her mother.

“Well, Mom was stripping and doing body shots!”

“I just turned seventy! Let me live a little! Also, you hit me with that stick!”

“Yea, to knock some sen—”

“Okay!” I spoke up, ending the argument. “I’m flattered you think I could pass as a stripper but I’m going to have to ask you to put the piñata stick down, ma’am,” I held my hands out as non-threateningly as possible. When she didn’t immediately put it down, I cocked my head and gave a slower warning, “Ma’am…”

“Yea, yea, fine,” she rolled her eyes and thrust the stick at me. 

I jumped but grabbed it tightly and and took it from her hands. Athena took it from me and held it far out of reach.

“Now, are we pressing charges and do you need medical attention?” I looked pointedly at the mother.

“No…no…” the mother waved me off.

“Press charges against me? I called you!”

“You also assaulted someone, so it doesn’t matter who called us,” I sighed, resting my hands on my duty belt. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the property.”

The woman huffed and stomped off, making Athena and me sag with relief. 

“I hope you have a nice rest of your party, ma’am,” I smiled and nodded my head to her, her husband, and the rest of the guests who had come out onto the lawn.

I turned back toward Athena, my eyes widening comically and mouthing, “Oh my god,” with an exasperated expression.

“Hey, you said you liked a little experience…” Athena laughed as we got in the car.

“Shut up,” I mumbled with a smirk.

“727-A-30, 10-98.”

“I need some bleach for my eyes,” I sighed heavily.

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m trapped! There’s a—a huge pile up on—“ the caller wheezed, “—Wilshire.”

“911, What’s your emergency?” 

“The traffic lights! They’re all green! There’s a huge accident on Wilshire and Irolo.”

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m the manager at Bank of Hope on Wilshire and Vermont, we just had a robbery take place. I think they hit Wells Fargo, too!”

“All available units in the vicinity of Wilshire and Irolo, please respond to a pileup in the intersection for traffic control. Firehouse 118 is arriving on scene shortly.”

“727-A-30, responding,” Athena answered immediately and made a u-turn while turning on the lights and sirens.

“10-4, 727-A-30. Please be advised, 211 just took place on Wilshire and Vermont. A unit has already been dispatched but witnesses report the getaway car heading toward the accident intersection. Suspect is 10-29FD possibly carrying a knife. Gun was left at the scene.”

“10-4, Dispatch. Patch me in to Captain Nash.”

There was silence before the radio crackled finally.

“This is Captain Nash.”

“Bobby, I’m on route to the accident, use extreme caution. Suspect is armed.”

“Athena, dispatch notified us that it was a knife. Have a little faith, I think we can take it,” he chuckled over the radio.

“Bobby…”

“We’ll be looking out, don’t worry. Just arrived on scene.”

Bobby cut out leaving us to listen to the sirens as we sped to the scene.

“Responders, please be advised the getaway vehicle was a black sedan.”

“10-4.”

“Dispatch, there’s three black sedans, proceeding with caution,” Bobby interjected.

We pulled up to the scene eight minutes later, seeing a horrific display of mangled cars, smoke, and flames. A couple LAPD units had already arrived on scene and started directing traffic away from the intersection. Firefighters, the 118 I assumed, were split up around the cars to attend to as many people as they could.

“You find one black sedan, I’ll find another. Clear it and head to the last one.”

“Copy that,” I clipped and opened the door, immediately dropping my hand to my taser to pull out if needed.

I jogged over to where one of the cars was, slowing down as I approached to be able to assess the situation better. I rounded other cars cautiously but didn’t immediately see anyone that screamed “robber” at me, nor evidence of a robbery in the car as I approached it.

I jumped as my radio crackled, “Responders, Station 122 is arriving shortly for medical back up.”

“Athena!” I called out in her general direction, “Clear over here!”

“Here, too! Dispatch, suspect has not been located yet.”

“I’m heading to the nex—” I called out, stopping when I saw an unresponsive woman in her car just a few down from the one I had checked.

The car next to hers had caught fire, which had spread near hers. Her car was leaking fluid, making me curse and not want to find out what it was until it was too late.

“I need an extinguisher here!” I shouted.

I saw a couple of the 118’s heads pop up and look in my direction. Captain Nash's distinctive helmet nodded to his other teammates before running toward the fire truck. 

“Don’t move the victim!” I heard one of them yell.

“She can’t wait! This whole this is about to go up!”

I tried for the door handle but it was dented and crushed. The front of the car was too close to the flames for comfort, so I hastily pulled out a knife and cut the seat belt off her. Leaning into the window to drag her out, my duty belt caught on the broken glass and twisted metal so I couldn’t fully clutch her. With a growl, I let go and unbuckled my belt, letting it drop to the floor and kicking it away from the flames. The fire had spread to the front of her car, licking and burning at my skin as I reached in again for her. I didn’t register any pain from the adrenaline, not stopping until she was fully out of the car and in my arms as I watched the car fully engulf.

“Officer, put her here,” Captain Nash instructed me, running up with a group of EMTs and heading straight to the fire to put it out. 

I placed the woman on the stretcher, making sure they took her to safety as I fetched my belt and strapped it back around my waist. It wasn’t until I cinched it closed that I felt a searing pain in my side just underneath my vest. My breath hitched and a groan of pain escaped my lips, causing Bobby to do a double take as he worked on the flames. I gulped—swaying on my feet as the pain fully registered and threatened to send me into shock—but clenched my teeth as I finished the buckle.

With a nod to Captain Nash, I waited for a responding nod before jogging off to find Athena.

“Sergeant! Nothing…” I slowed my run as I approached her, turning into a slow jog with a limp as it caused more chafing to occur against my wound.

“Nothing at this one either,” she sighed, shaking her head as she took another look in the car. “Either way, this car can’t have been it. It’s too close to the beginning of the pileup. The suspect would have been closer to the outside.”

“You’re right,” I grimaced.

“What’s wrong with you?” She furrowed her brows and stepped over menacingly.

“Nothing. I’m fine, I—,” I paused as her words hit me. “The first one I checked was on the outside…the door was open but it was empty inside I—.”

Shit.

Bobby was over there alone now.

“Captain!” I turned an ran, seeing him speaking with someone near where I left him.

The scene was loud, understandably so, but I slowed as I neared anyway to avoid spooking the potentially dangerous suspect.

“Look, sir, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. That cut on the side of your head looks pretty bad,” Bobby held his palms out to the man who was clad in all black and clutching a gym bag to his chest. “At least let me make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Bobby stepped closer again.

From where the man’s back was facing me, I saw a glint of metal appearing from his back pocket and felt adrenaline surge through my veins. I took the remaining steps forward and lunged, wrapping my whole hand around his wrist and shoving it up so it was pinned against his lower to mid back.

“Drop it!” I growled. When he didn’t immediately comply, I repeated myself, “Drop it, or I will make you.”

At the lack of movement I bent his wrist inward with my free hand and used the pain of the wrist lock to force him to open his hand. When the knife clattered to the floor, I kicked it away and began slapping cuffs on the man. The bag was cut from his body, since I had trapped it on his body with his arms in cuffs, and Athena took the liberty of guiding him to a free unit to take him in while reading him his rights.

“Come on, I think I could have taken him?” Bobby chuckled as Athena dragged the suspect away. “But thank you.”

I shot him a glare that was soon diluted by a smirk. The smirk soon faded away as my wound throbbed, so I leaned my weight on the car next to me. Whatever the hell I did hurt. A lot. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just taking a second,” I groaned as I straightened back up. “I should help…”

“Whoa, there,” Bobby stopped me with a hand gripping my tricep, steadying me as I wobbled. “You’re not fine. And anyway, the 122 is here and helping. It’s under control.”

I slumped, watching the firefighters work, but knew he was right. Athena was going to kill me. Then, Bobby was going to resurrect me. And then, my Captain was going to kill me all over again.

“Let me check it out?” He asked, though it definitely felt like more of a gentle demand than a question.

I nodded and let him guide me to the 118 Paramedic truck.

He sat me on the edge of the truck and jumped into the back to clean his hands and find supplies. When he came back out, his hands were covered in black medical gloves and his arms were full of random items.

“You’re gonna have to uh…” he gestured to my torso with his head as he laid the supplies down in the entry way of the back doors of the truck. 

I stood, stepping out of his way as he opened the second door wider for me to place my belt and uniform. The duty belt came off first, making me wince. I watched the firefighter’s eyebrows raise as he saw the slashed front and tattered side of my uniform shirt. The belt fell to the metal flooring with a heavy thud. I paused, willing the pain to subside before moving on to my shirt but to no avail.

“Shirt, too,” Bobby stood with his hands clasped down in front of him. “Or I can cut it off.”

“No need, Captain, just give me a sec,” I grunted and started undoing the buttons.

The hard part came when I had to shrug the shirt off. The movements made me tense up and clench my teeth.

“May I?” Bobby offered with medical shears in hand. “Not like you can wear that shirt again, anyway.”

“Fair enough…”

Bobby made quick work of the uniform shirt, cutting away as much as he could so I wouldn’t have to twist at all. He dropped his hands to where the shirt met my trousers, tugging the material forcefully out of my shirt stays—causing me to wince as the elastic snapped down my legs. He undid the Velcro of my body armor and lifted it over my head. He paused, taking in the slashed material below my patch. Luckily, only the outer covering had been frayed a bit, but no damage to the internal armor.

“Good thing you had this on, could have sliced yourself when you grabbed him,” Bobby indicated to the slice. His thumb ran over the small pink, yellow, and cyan patch, “Nice,” he smirked before setting that aside with my duty belt.

“Yea,” I jumped as he lifted my undershirt, some of my skin catching on the cotton. “You know what that is?”

“‘Course I do,” he stated matter-of-factly and sat on the edge of the truck so he was eye level with my affected side, below where the body armor had covered. “Pansexual flag, right?”

Surprised, I was too shocked to react when he began cleaning the wound, only reacting with a hiss when the delayed sting of antiseptic sunk in.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he laughed, dabbing at the wound to make sure there was nothing foreign in it. “I’m Bi.”

Still speechless, I simply held my shirt up for him as he worked with my mouth slightly open in shock.

“Again, don’t look so surprised,” he chuckled.

“It’s just…sorry. Sorry,” I laughed. “Athena thought you were straight.”

“Talking about me, huh?” He chuckled, making my face heat up before he continued, “Don’t worry, we’ve all discussed you plenty. And, anyway, I mean I’ve never expressly said it. Nor, have I publicly dated a man,” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, of course.”

By now, Bobby had stopped working on the wound and was just staring up at me with an amused expression on his handsome face. 

“You should close your mouth before you catch something with it, Officer.”

Without thinking, I blurted out my name and immediately apologized, “Sorry, uh, you can…yea you can just call me…yea.”

“Bobby,” he offered me. “Well,” he sighed my name, causing shivers to go up my spine. “Laceration isn’t too deep, you won’t need stitches, thankfully, but it’s also not going to feel nice because the area gets a lot of movement and creasing. The burn around it is pretty enflamed. You won’t need anything major done but this’ll take some time to heal. I have some burn cream if you want it?”

“Please, thank you,” I cleared my throat, hoping to get rid of the raspy, huskiness that had developed. 

Soon, cold, white paste was being gently applied to the burned area and then he was covering it with gauze and tape. I let my under shirt fall back down into place, catching a split second where Bobby’s eyes flicked to the rest of my abdomen before it was covered. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled, pausing briefly to look at his boots. “Would yo—.”

“Cap is going to murder me,” Athena groaned from behind me, startling me out of whatever trance Bobby had pulled me into. “What the hell happened?”

“I—I’m okay…”

“Just a cut and a burn, ‘Thena, he’ll live,” Bobby chuckled, standing and snapping off the gloves now smeared with cream.

“Next time warn your partner before you go gallivanting into a burning car?” 

“Sorry,” I smiled. 

“Mhmm,” she responded, entirely unconvinced. “I gotta get him out of here, Bobby. Is he good to go?” Athena asked, tearing Bobby’s attention from me to her.

“Oh, uh, yea he’s perf—good, he’s good,” Bobby stumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. “It was nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well, Captain Nash,” I smiled, biting the inside of my cheek. I hastily grabbed my duty belt and shredded shirt before following Athena to her patrol car, waving to Bobby with a wince as my skin stretched.

We sat in the silence of the car for a few beats before Athena burst into laughter.

“You damn flirt, I knew it,” she laughed at me.

“Athena, he’s hot,” I whined. “Did you really expect me not to?”

“How about, we don’t tell Captain the extent of your injuries and I won’t tell anyone how shamelessly you flirted with Bobby.”

“To be fair—” I interjected, “—he totally flirted back.”

—

After a stern talking to—in the form of shouting—from our Captain, Athena and I cleaned up, changed, and were confined to the station for the rest of our shift. Athena assured me that we weren’t in actual trouble before we left the station to go home, making me at ease since the last thing I wanted was for her to get in trouble for my stupidity.

Currently, I was too hungry to dwell on it.

I was salivating over a pot of sautéing garlic, crushed red pepper, and oregano for a quick and easy red sauce and stirring loosely so they didn’t burn.  Letting out a wild yawn and grunt, wiping my hands on the towel slung over my bare shoulder and turning to open the refrigerator, feeling my side twinge as I did. I yanked out a protein drink and downed it in two gulps, hoping to stave off my hunger while I cooked, before turning toward my designated medicine cabinet in the kitchen and popping a couple pain relievers. I got back to work and was just picking up a tube of tomato paste, ready to squeeze it in when there was a hesitant knock, followed by two firmer ones. 

I certainly wasn’t expecting any guests, but grumbled and shut off the flame under my pot just in case and moved it to a cool burner. It would be a tragedy if my garlic burned, after all. I didn’t even think twice about my state of undress, clad in only a pair of sweats and socks—with my kitchen towel over my shoulder—before I was yanking my door open to find the last person I expected to be on the other side of it.

Bobby. Dressed in jeans and a worn button down with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he immediately yanked them out and stood straighter like he had at the scene earlier.

“Hey, uh, hope this isn’t too strange—uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I—uh—wasn’t sure if you had any burn cream and I forgot to sneak you some earlier.”

I didn’t know what to say, my mouth opening and shutting a couple times, “No—I—I was actually going to Instacart some so you saved me a few dollars.”

“Ours is better anyway,” he chuckled before his smile dropped again. “I—er—got your address from Athena, sorry if that was not…good.”

“It’s fine. I’ll give her a stern talking to about giving my address to strange men,” I smiled at his good natured laugh and opened my door wider. “Do you want to come in? I was just making dinner if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. You look…busy,” he cleared his throat, clearly avoiding looking at my bare chest.

I looked down at myself and chuckled, “Not busy enough to put a shirt on, clearly. But I could be…” I relished watching his neck flush up to his cheeks, “Come on in, I hear you’re the resident cook at the firehouse. I need a chef’s opinion on this sauce.”

Bobby perked up at the offer, “Well, if it’s a professional opinion you need…” He stepped through the doorway, shoulder brushing my chest as he tugged the towel off my shoulder and promptly slapped it over his own in transit. 

“Give me one sec, let me grab a shirt,” I said, jogging over to where I had a black t-shirt thrown over my couch. I did a three-sixty to make sure the rest of the living room wasn’t a complete mess.

“You don’t have to, it’s your apartment,” he mumbled. “Plus, I’m sure that hurts to put on,” Bobby finally looked over at me, his gaze unmistakably on my exposed skin.

“Ah, well,” I shrugged, tugging the shirt on the arm of the injured side, maneuvering my other arm in, and flinging the rest over my head. I smirked to myself when the material clung tightly to my body, probably one size too small for me. “It hurt more taking it off, honestly, and I don’t wanna be too underdressed,” I grinned.

I jogged quickly back over to the kitchen, sliding in my socks near the end and found Bobby gazing at me with an amused upturn of his lips with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Fuck. 

“Had to turn the flame off to answer the door, so let me get this warm again,” I hummed. “Alexa! Play my ‘Oldies but Goodies’ playlist on low.” I ignored her response and immediately began humming and swaying to myself as Billy Joel started playing while I brought the ingredients back up to a good temperature.

“Really? Is that because I’m here?” Bobby shoved my shoulder.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I was raised on this!” I pushed back before grabbing the tube of tomato paste off the counter. I was opening the tube when I stopped and just about broke my neck looking at him quickly.

The sudden movement broke him put of whatever trance he was in while watching me cook, eyes widening in surprise, “What?”

“I’m so rude. Can I get you something to drink? I have water, juice, and—er—protein shakes. I think that’s it.”

“Water's fine, I can get it. Fridge?” at my hum of affirmation he opened the refrigerator behind me and looked back at me in the small space, his voice suddenly very close to my back and neck, “Want one?”

I cleared my suddenly dry throat, “Please.”

Licking my lips, I set back to work and squeezed the paste in the pot before stirring it in. 

“Here you go,” he set the bottle on the counter before twisting his own open and taking a sip.

I fumbled with closing the tube of paste nearly dropping the cap, “Shit—ah!” I squeaked and snatched the cap as it fell. “Sorry. Thank you,” I finally responded, licking paste off my wrist and grimacing at the acidity.

Bobby smiled for the umpteenth time—and god I hope he never stopped—shaking his head as he took another drink, “Athena was right.”

“About what?” I asked, stirring so the ingredients wouldn’t burn.

“You,” he cocked his head at me. “You are a dork.”

“Rude.”

“Maybe,” he teased. “So, what brought you to that station?”

“Mm,” I hummed while opening the can of tomato sauce, “The tsunami actually. It did a number on my old station, I don’t even think it’s up and running yet, I think they’re still running out of another building. But, anyway, during some of the search and rescue, I broke my arm and I’d been in a cast for a while. They transferred me to this station to do more administrative work in the mean time, that’s how I met Athena.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all part of the job,” I shrugged, pouring in the sauce and throwing the flame higher while I stirred. “It’s funny actually. Today, Athena convinced our Captain to let me out on patrol with her since my doctor cleared me for normal exercise with my arm and then that call happened,” I laughed.

“Luckily, you had a strapping firefighter to rescue you,” Bobby teased.

“Luckily, I had a strapping firefighter to rescue, I think you mean,” I teased back, flicking the burner to simmer. 

“Of course, how could I forget my knight in body armor.”

“Damn right,” I winked. “Now, come over here, Chef Nash, and let me know how I did.” I waved my hand in presentation to the simmering pot, “Shit, wait!” I stopped him with a hand between his shoulder and chest—wow, that was firm—to hastily pour some salt in my hand, pinch some, throw it in with a flourish, and toss the rest in the sink. I gave it another stir and stepped back.

Bobby stepped up, grabbed the spoon and dipped his pinky in it. Then, proceeded to push the spoon toward me to do the same while shoving his pinky in his mouth to suck the sauce off. I barely managed to dip my own finger in the spoon as I imagined his tongue lapping the sauce away. By the way his eyes swirled with playfulness, I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. I could finally breathe again when he released his pinky, taking the opportunity to lick my finger and suck the end with a quick ‘pop’ and a moan thrown in for good measure. 

“It’s really good,” he praised.

“Thank y—”

“—But! We can do better.”

My mouth snapped shut with a pout as Bobby turned and opened my refrigerator with renewed purpose. He hummed to himself quietly before making a noise of success and coming back out with a sprig of leftover basil I had bought for a pesto I made a few days ago.

“You’re a genius!” I groaned, snagging the sprig from him and plucking the leaves off. 

I went to throw them haphazardly into the sauce when Bobby’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist before I could let them go, “Woah, there.” He guided my hand toward himself, bringing me deliciously close to him. Close enough to breathe in whatever he had sprayed himself with before coming here, and definitely close enough to see the way his eyes dropped to my parted lips. “We can be a little more sophisticated than that,” he breathed, his voice suddenly huskier than it was a few seconds ago.

“Show me.”

“With pleasure,” he licked his bottom lip and plucked the leaves from my fingers. 

I watched as he stepped over to the cutting board where I had chopped the garlic, taking the time to stack the basil leaves on each other before rolling them into a cylinder. He fetched the knife that lay nearby and sliced the leaves with quick, light strokes, leaving green ribbons in his wake. Bobby lifted the cutting board and slid the ribbons into the sauce to simmer, giving me a smug smirk as he turned to face me after. I took the liberty of stirring the sauce while we waited for it to come together.

“It should be good now,” he nodded toward the pot, so I lifted the spoon and dipped my finger right after he did.

He sucked the sauce off his finger with a proud hum and a nod of approval, me not getting as distracted as I did the first time. I stuck my finger my mouth, my eyes immediately falling shut as I tasted the small difference the basil made. Letting my eyes flutter back open as I removed my finger, the air was sucked out of the room as I saw how dark Bobby’s eyes had gotten.

“I concede. You were right.”

Bobby didn’t respond, instead staring at my mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Snapped out of his stare, Bobby blinked rapidly, “N—nothing, sorry. You have a little sauce…” He mimed the general area with his hand on his own face.

“Oh,” I furrowed my brows and wiped my face with my palm but didn’t feel any. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s…” he mimed again, stepping closer.

“Whe—” my words were cut off as I felt warm lips on mine.

I sagged into his arms, a sigh escaping my throat as he pressed himself against me. In an attempt to not stretch my side so much, I kept my hands low and framing the sides of Bobby’s torso. It was nice—really nice—and I had to stop myself from deepening the kiss as I felt his hands clutch my upper arms. I let him pull away but kept him close since he didn’t step back.

“Bobby…”

“I’m sorry, that was inappro—”

“No…” I shook my head. I leaned forward again, just enough to feel his nose touch mine, “Can I…?” I felt him nod against me and dipped my head back in to touch my lips to his, letting my hand on my non-injured side come up to the back of his neck. This kiss was just as short as the last and just as nice, not wanting to overwhelm him so quickly.

“That was…” Bobby trailed off as we separated again.

“…Life changing?” I winked.

Bobby scoffed out a laugh, “I was going to say good, but you ruined it so…”

“Shut up,” I scowled playfully, tugging him back by the belt and kissing him sweetly once more. I furrowed my brows as I pulled back, tilting my head to the side in thought, “There wasn’t anything on my face, was there?” I squinted at him.

“Definitely not,” he let out a soft chuckle.

“Mm,” I hummed, “you’re forgiven.”

We pulled apart, somewhat reluctantly, and served two plates after making sure the stove was shut off. While the kisses were brief, I couldn’t stop licking my lips and remembering what Bobby's felt like on mine. Lingering glances and sly smirks permeated our conversation over dinner. I learned more about him than what Athena divulged to me and I’m sure the same went for him. Soon enough our plates were empty and we were idly chatting over the nearly clean plates. 

“Do you want more?” Bobby spoke up during a lull in the conversation.

“Yea, but I can—,” I stood to go get more, wincing as the skin pulled.

“Nonsense,” Bobby stood and grabbed my plate, balancing both on one forearm. With his free hand, I felt his fingers brush the nape of my neck before disappearing entirely. 

With full bellies, we sat on the couch and picked up the conversation again until it died off into a comfortable silence.

“You shower already?” Bobby muttered as he fished something out of his jean pocket.

“Mm,” I hummed and nodded. “Why? You trying to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Nash?”

“You wish,” he snorted. “Here.”

“Oh, bless,” I sighed, grabbing the burn cream from Bobby. “I’ll switch my gauze out before bed and put it on.”

“I'll do it for you. Bring it out here,” Bobby nodded in the general direction of my bathroom.

“You just want my shirt off again,” I teased.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Bobby murmured back with pink cheeks. “But I’m sure it’s easier than twisting.”

“You have a point…” I pursed my lips and headed off to grab my first aid kit from the bathroom. 

When I returned with the box, Bobby was fiddling with the cap of the tube absentmindedly. I set the box on the arm of the couch and reached my arm on my good side back to grab the back of my shirt collar. I yanked the material over my head and let it slide off the arm of my burned side and on to the floor. At some point as I took it off, Bobby stared at the skin revealed to him.

“Earth to Captain Nash,” I snickered at the dazed expression on the older man’s face, letting my hand slip to the back of his head to run over the soft hairs while guiding his head up to look at me.

“Sorry…” Bobby gulped, eyes tracing my form as he felt blindly for the first aid box. 

When he found it, he placed the box in his lap to distract himself, finding gloves, gauze, and tape with little effort. He snapped the gloves on with practiced ease and leaned forward as I stepped in between his legs and turned my side toward him. I winced as he pulled at one end of the tape, grabbing his shoulder with the hand on my bad side for some kind of support as he continued. When the cut and burn were open to the air, Bobby took a second to look it over to make sure it hadn’t gotten worse since the last time he saw it. Satisfied, Bobby twisted open the tube and applied more burn cream, making me shiver from the cold touch. 

I let my fingers curve around the nape of his neck, barely noticing Bobby pressing back against my hand in the slightest of ways. He quickly covered the wound with new gauze and tape and sat back a little to take the gloves off, which he deposited on the closed first aid kit with the other trash. He set the box and trash aside while I deliberated picking up my shirt or not.  

Deciding to leave it on the floor, I looked down at where Bobby sat waiting in quiet contemplation, “So, Captain…” I trailed off, stepping back into his space, which he gladly leaned in for. “…in your professional experience, does ‘kissing it better’ usually work?”

A smile lit up his face, followed by an incredulous snort, “No, never.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Though, it might not hurt to try.” Bobby hooked a finger in the waistband of my sweats to pull me closer, glancing up at me once before pressing his lips to the undamaged skin next to the medical tape, “Better?”

“Mmm, no,” I sighed feigning dejection. “Maybe you’re administering it incorrectly.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” I hummed, leaning forward until I had one knee pressed against the outside of his thigh on the couch cushion.

When he didn’t stop me, I closed the distance further and threw my other knee down so I was straddling his hips but not fulling sitting in his lap just yet. Garnering no complaints, if the way his hands squeezed my thighs were anything to go by, I draped my arms over his shoulders and gave him a playful smirk with my tongue running over my lower lip.

“Here?” He raised his eyebrows, and pressed a kiss to where his mouth height was at my sternum.

“Eh…” I teased, letting my fingers play with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

Bobby hummed dramatically, letting his arm wind around my good side until his hand was splayed over my back. With a sharp tug from Bobby that I hadn’t been expecting, my ass was forced into his lap. A rather embarrassing whine slipped past my lips at the contact.

“Oh, here…?” Bobby murmured, tilting his head to press his lips where my neck met my shoulders.

“A—almost…” I sighed. 

Bobby tilted his head up higher to find a new spot, making me lick my lips in anticipation of feeling his once more. He surged up—finally—but my previous anticipation was wasted as my lips met his chin and a soft pressure pressed against my nose.

“Jerk,” I mumbled against his skin.

Bobby gasped softly, “You mean that didn’t work either?”

“You know it didn’t, Bo—” the words died in my throat as Bobby finally pressed his mouth where I wanted it. 

His lips meshed easily with mine, pressing just as softly as before but with more urgency just below the surface. I moaned suddenly as his lips parted and sucked my bottom lip between his, tongue laving over the skin and—oh—was he good at that. Taking his cue, I returned the urgency, parting my own lips and tentatively meeting his tongue; retreating with a quick flick to the roof of his mouth. Thick, strong fingers dug into my hips while I searched for any purchase on his head but his hair was far too short for me to do much. I settled for running a thumb across his jaw instead—oh that strong jaw—

Bobby suddenly parted, breathing just the slightest bit elevated with his normally thin lips now spit slick and veering on the side of swollen. His hands refused to move, keeping me close as he caught his breath.

“Better?” He panted, licking over his lips.

I was confused for a moment, so worked up that I had forgotten what he was referring to until his knowing smirk made me remember, “Oh! Oh, yes. Much better, Captain. You were definitely administering it wrong initially.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Good to know, I’ll take notes for my next patient.”

My eyes narrowed at his teasing, a small pout forming on my lips, “Next patient?”

“Well, unless you’re going to go getting hurt again…”

“A hot firefighter told me earlier this was going to take some time to heal…” I trailed off, pursing my lips to hold back a laugh while still running my hands over his hair soothingly. “Plus, I’ve been told I can be a danger to myself on the job—and—well, and off the job. I’m a bit of a klutz, okay?”

A brilliant smile spread over his face, eyes sparkling with humor, “Got it, so…you’d like me to continue being your care provider?”

“If you’re amenable, of course.”

“Would you be available for a consultation this Thursday at seven? No charge, of course, my treat.” 

“I can definitely do that and—” I brought my lips down for another kiss, “—I think we can agree to split the bill, I’m a big boy.”

“You…” Bobby trailed off, eyes looking down appreciatively and landing on my tented sweatpants, “…you sure are, Officer.”

I felt my face redden at the innuendo and the fact that I was very clearly tenting the sweatpants, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Because, believe me, if I wasn’t trapped in jeans right now…” Bobby trailed off with a chuckle. “And with that…I think it’s time for me to go before I lose whatever self control I might have right now.”

“Good idea. I suppose there’s a reason you’re a Captain and I’m most definitely not,” I laughed, pushing myself up and sliding off his lap until I was on my own two feet again. I just about giggled under my breath as Bobby stood, readjusting his jeans to a more comfortable position.

He followed me to the front door, stopping short when he saw the mess in my kitchen, “I should probably help you with that.”

“As nice as that would be…” I cut him off from the entryway, “…the longer you stay, the more both of us will be worked up and I kind of want to wait a couple more dates.”

“Good,” Bobby smiled, moving into my space, “me too.” He caged me in against the wall somewhat, not that I minded, “You should swing by the firehouse some time for food. If you—uh—if you give me your number I can let you know when I make something or need a sous-chef.”

“I’d like that,” I chewed on my lip while fishing my phone from my pocket and making a new contact. I preemptively typed his name out with “Bobby” being the beginning, followed by both a flame and a heart emoji.

Soft laughter bubbled up from Bobby’s throat as I handed the phone to him and he noticed the name.

“Let me know when you get home safe?” I murmured when he handed it back with the contact already saved. I shot him a quick text so he would have my number.

“Of course.”

Bobby pressed me firmly against the wall, stealing another kiss that I was all too willing to give. With a press of his hips against mine, my brain was short circuiting and I had to convince myself all over again that picking him up and carrying him to my bed was not what either of us wanted.

“Think about me later?” I winked as we pulled apart.

“I—uh—most likely will, “ Bobby murmured, his flush meeting his ears instantly. “I’ll see you Thursday, then? I’ll text you with the details,” he finally stepped back and grasped the door handle, twisting it as he spoke.

“You’ll see me Thursday,” I confirmed, following him half way out of the door as he opened it and stepped through.

Like a lovesick teenager, I pressed my back against the door after it closed, hoping to hear back from him like he promised. With a final glance at the mess in my kitchen, I sighed and decided to distract myself with cleaning until then.

[bestiesenpai]

Finally writing for the prompt Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, “How do i passively aggressively say fuck you in flower”

It was dark and macabre in the flower shop you'd walked into. It looked more like a gothic mansion than somewhere to get daffodils and lilies, but there they were in black vases atop matching black doilies. The rain beating against the window was a natural addition to the place you were in, it would be odd if the sun even dared to come out at a time like this.

There weren't only flowers in the shop, but a host of other odds and ends. Crystal balls and worn leather books, cobwebs that you weren't sure were for show or were truly real. Skeletons were used as decor, the bones of a corvid hanging above your head. With dark floorboards and nearly pitch-black floral wallpaper, the flower shop likened itself to a dungeon.

"Hello." The man behind the counter watched you with little interest, the mark across his face the only color against his staunchly pale skin. His fingers had several rings on each and there were silver bobby pins keeping back the hair that wasn't wrapped up in two messy buns.

"H-hi..." Too scared to make eye contact with him, your legs seemed to stop on their own atop a deep red oriental rug, it's tassels well worn and cared for. The man behind the counter didn't look at you any further, opting to go back to scribbling notes in a journal.

Just as you began to feel trapped in an awkward situation, the shutters on the windows banged loudly as the wind ripped through the air. Jumping to attention, you forced yourself to remember why you'd come here.

As the memories of what happened came back to you, your blood began to boil all over again. Fishing out the money from your pocket, you walked up to the counter with confidence.

"How do I passive aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?" Not so gently slapping the money on the counter, you waited as the man looked between you and the money before letting out a huffing laugh.

"Who's it for?" He asked with a smirk, quickly tucking away his notebook into a drawer underneath the counter. Lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them, he leaned forward with rapt interest.

"An old boyfriend who thought he could have the last laugh." It made you want to vomit, the image of him with someone you used to call a friend burning in your mind.

"Oh do I have the thing for you." Sliding off his perch, the man quickly rounded the corner and began looking through all the flowers on display. "How long were you together?"

"Too long." You groaned, rolling your eyes at all the time you'd wasted with him.

"Did you love him?"

"Sadly."

"He allergic to anything?"

"Nope! As healthy as can be!"

"Damn." Snapping his fingers, the man tsked beneath his breath.

"I don't want to kill him!" You laughed breathlessly, watching him flutter about the shop. "Just...do you have any poison ivy or something?"

"Please, that stuff is childs play." Rolling his eyes, the man turned back to you with a few deep red dahlias in his hand. "Do you think he knows what nightshade looks like?"

"Look..." Trailing off, you realized you didn't know his name.

"Choso." He filled in the blank.

"Right, Choso. I don't want to do too much harm, okay? I want to inconvenience him, not send him to an early grave." As much as the thought was tempting in the moment, you had to keep a straight head.

"Fine." Rolling his eyes, Choso dropped his shoulders and stepped away from a display case you'd just now noticed had a 'poison' sign taped on it. "You're no fun."

"Maybe next time." Laughing at his overdramatics, you began to wander about in the store, trailing behind him as he picked up roses with large thorns and a few dried twigs. As you followed behind him, you noticed tattoos along his arms and peaking out from the collar of his shirt; many were flowers in black ink and others were of bees and snakes, small birds that you would find in a garden.

"Are you going to tell me your name or are you content with just staring at me?" He asked without looking at you. Now it was his turn to laugh as you quickly ducked your head away.

"It's (Y/N)." The answer rushed out of your mouth, a heat swiftly enveloping your cheeks.

"Well (Y/N)..." slowly turning around, Choso presented you with the bouquet of dry twigs, thorny roses and black dahlias. "How's this look?"

Looking it over, you thought about the previous topic of conversation, and a smile struggled to stay off your face.

"I know you said it was childs play, but do you really not have any poison ivy?" The smile broke through you, flashing your teeth and making you giggle at the mere prospect. Looking at you with his own smirk, Choso nodded to himself and took a few steps back, walking towards the counter.

"Follow me." He said, waiting for you at a backdoor. You didn't think twice about following him, and soon you were thrust into a different world entirely.

The room you entered was, immediately upon entering, smothering. It was instantly 10 degrees warmer and plenty more humid, with strange neon lights hanging above delicate looking plants in pots all around the room. Shutting the door behind you, Choso donned a pair of gloves and gestured to the room.

"Take your pick." His voice was far too casual, like you had any idea what you were looking at. Begin a slow walk around the room, you could see tiny signs positioned in the pots, giving away their names.

"Jimson weed. Queen Ann's lace. Cow parsnip." Reading the signs, it was astonishing that Choso had so many deadly plants. "Is it even legal to have all these?" Turning over your shoulder, you looked at him curiously.

"I'm a botanist!" He proclaimed, pretending to be offended. "I study these plants! They're certainly never used for anything nefarious!" Breaking out into a grin as he finished his sentence, Choso shook his head. "Ah, who am I kidding? Now, did you choose any?"

"Let's go with something simple, okay? Stinging nettle and hogweed sound good."

"Good choice." Throwing a quick thumbs up, Choso got to work plucking a few for the bouquet. Following him out, a shiver rippled up your back walking out of the makeshift greenhouse.

"So, how will it get to him?" You hadn't the slightest idea how one would deliver deadly flowers.

"Don't worry, I know a guy. Just write his address on the card and I'll take care of the rest. That ex of yours won't even know it's from you."

"Perfect." Eagerly scribbling down the address, you hoped his new girlfriend would be there as well so they could both suffer.

"Hey (Y/N)." Once everything was said and done, Choso pulled out another card, scribbling a slew of numbers on it. "If it's not too much trouble, text me after he get's them. I wanna know how much it hurts."

Immediately punching his number into your phone, you beamed at Choso.

"I'll do you one better, I'll come back and tell you in person."

Sticking his hand out, you and Choso exchanged a firm handshake, and neither of you let go.

"Deal."

[dorkydiaz]

YOU WERE LIGHTING FLARES [1.3K | alternate universe| bmtb fic] {ao3}

a/n: she's hereee everybody!! i know we are generally losing our collective shit over promo and cast content-- but let me take you to another universe for just a moment. for @buddieau i know thigs didnt go as planned really, but without signing up for this i wouldnt have finished this and i love you both so much <3 both titles are from waking up slow by gabrielle aplin. this will be about 7 chapters i believe, all about this length each capturing a different moment in their relationship in this universe. enjoy <3

CHAPTER ONE: I COULD BE YOUR FRIEND Buck wasn’t one to often get deeply invested in their patients. He would connect with them deeply, leaving him emotionally wrought, but not in a way that was investment. 

Bobby had told him that their jobs stopped at the glass doors. Athena chewing him out. But it just had been something about how tiny the baby had been. Is. He had cradled her all the way to the hospital, feeling some sort of kindred spirit in her. 

He understands why they don’t go past the glass doors. He really does. There’s just something aching. 

“You know, I  have a friend up in the NICU. I could ask him about her?” Maddie offers over the takeout containers that Buck brought to the hospital with him after his shift. 

Buck just shrugs as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know Mads, Bobby made it pretty clear-“ 

“Well, what if you were to happen to be here, and happen on the floor… it’s 4 by the way," she smiles as her pager beeps and she takes a last gulp of coffee before taking off back to the ED, calling “See ya at home Ev!” Before she’s gone. And Buck is alone in the nurse break room. He pushes his last few bites of breakfast around in the container before eating them and throwing everything away and leaving the room, weighing the idea in his head. 

He stands in front of the bank of elevators trying to decide if he wants to go up or down. With a rush he pushes the up button before he can change his mind for a tenth time. 

He carefully follows the arrows and signs pointing him toward the NICU. He feels far too big and clumsy to be in this wing. Where fragile beings are just learning what it’s like to be in the world. Surrounded by such innocence. He didn’t quite fit in with his raucous and reckless life. 

He's finally standing in front of the window, carefully looking to see if he can see her. 

His eyes land on her in the incubator, and she seems even tinier than he remembers, even though it was only a few hours ago really. An eternity, and twice her lifetime for her and a blink of an eye for him. she has a hat now which settles something within the aching, but the myriad of wires and tubes add a new sense of worry. he’s never felt like this before. 

He just watches her chest rise and fall. Hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He still feels out of place, being six foot two, and all muscle. But there is a part of him that is truly and fully invested in everything about her. Wants to make sure that she finds her people, that she’s happy and loved. That she has someone to love her like Maddie loved him. 

The nurse comes by to check her vitals and Buck watches him closely, knowing the nurse can do his job but wants to see if he can read his expression as he checks her over. He catches Buck watching and after he makes some final notes on her chart, he exits the room and comes face to face with Buck. 

His arms are crossed, the sleeves of his soft gray shirt pushed up his forearms underneath his light purple scrub top. The tiny stethoscope hanging around his neck, a tiny monkey holding tight.

“Are you her father?” he questions, skepticism already lacing every word. 

And Buck nearly jumps out of his skin even though he saw the other man coming and even suspected that he woul be spoken to. That question wasn’t what he expected. The notion of it even, “Oh god no! I- I’m just-“ 

The nurse’s right eyebrow starts expertly climbing his brow as Buck stumbles.  

“I'm um, I'm a firefighter-'' he shucks the left side of his jacket a little to reveal the emblem, “I’m on the team that brought her in yesterday?” Buck tries, “I’m the one who held her all the way here.” 

The nurse softens, “And my sister, she- she’s the one who said it would be okay for me to come by- Maddie, she’s a nurse down in the ED-  I’ll leave if it’s not, I have pretty much gotten what I came for anyway, I am so sorry.” Buck rambles, fidgeting and looking over his shoulder. 

The nurse starts smiling, and Buck had never seen anything like it. 

“You’re Evan!” There’s a sparkle in his eye that could rival stars in rural Montana. 

A blush creeps across his cheeks, “You know Maddie,” he states, ducking his head and digging a toe into the linoleum. 

“I'm Eddie by the way, I'm guessing she’s never mentioned me by name?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, but then snaps his fingers, “but she did mention a NICU nurse friend!” 

Eddie laughs again resting his hands on his hips casually. 

“She’s tried to convince me to let her give me her cute firefighter brother’s number, I don’t know how many times.” 

“You can have it if you want,” Buck blurts, then covers his mouth, “Oh my god I’m sorry.” 

“It's okay.” Eddie runs a hand over the back of his neck, “You can have it. I just- I’m not ready to date yet?” 

“You can call me Buck by the way, Maddie’s the only one that calls me Evan. Well she does and my parents but-“ 

“We don’t talk about the parents,” Eddie says in the same tone that Maddie does and Buck laughs. It all feels like a breath of fresh air after the shift he had. 

It feels like Eddie is waiting for Buck to deny him something because of what he said, but Buck just takes his phone from his back pocket, opens a new contact and holds it out to him. Eddie smiles a little as he carefully takes it and enters the number. 

“Text me so I have yours okay? I gotta get back in there.” 

“I will. Bye!” 

“Bye Evan.” 

He looks into the nursery again just to make sure her chest is still rising and falling steadily and waves at Eddie one more time before rocking on his heels, and smiling like an idiot all the way to the elevators. 

Maddie is barely in the door before Buck launches into a rant, “Maddie how could you not tell me you’re “NICU nurse friend” is possibly the hottest man I  have ever seen but you have also offered him my number, on more than one occasion, unbeknownst to me. You had ulterior motives!” 

“So I see you met Eddie,” she says, dropping her bag on the floor and toeing off her shoes. “He needed it to be on his terms, or at least think it was.” 

“Yeah, he uh mentioned not being ready to date, what’s that all about?” 

“Not my story to tell. but I hear you have his  number so you can ask him yourself.” she just grins and opens the fridge to grab a glass of juice before she crawls into bed. 

Buck is laying in bed staring at the ceiling when his phone buzzes;

From: Eddie 🩺 Hi. 

A blush creeps across his cheeks and he smiles. He quickly schools himself because he just met the man. But there had been something about him that made Buck want to crawl into a warm bubble and live there with him.

To : eddie 🩺

shouldn’t you be sleeping 🤨

From : eddie 🩺

Couldn’t you say the same for yourself?

To: eddie 🩺

Oh no

R u someone that like uses actual grammar while texting

From: Eddie 🩺

Is that an actual question?

To: Eddie 🩺

Uhh yeah

From : Eddie 🩺

Yes. And if only there was punctuation for you to indicate that you were asking me a question…

To: Eddie 🩺

Oh. my. God. 🙄

good night

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 63

First - Previous - Masterlist - Next

Hm.

So. Ito has been kidnapped.

That is certainly…

Hm.

They ran a hand through their hair, glancing back at the door they had been shoved through. It hadn’t locked behind them, which wasn’t all that surprising considering John had been apologizing the entire time he’d dragged them here. He was, at least, pretending to feel bad, which meant the unlocked door was a must.

They could hear John getting comfortable on the other side. Opening the door would force him to lock it for appearance's sake, which would make escaping much harder.

But, of course, if he locked it, then people probably wouldn’t be on guard…

Damn. Why hadn’t they asked Deuce to teach them lockpicking?! They carried bobby pins everywhere they went, they could have been in and out so quickly.

Ito sighed, setting Grim on the bed.

Grim looked up at them with wide eyes. “What do we do?”

“Uhhhhhh…” said Ito, glancing at the door. If they could hear John shifting around outside, then John could hear anything they said, too. “I don’t know, yet.”

It was a great excuse for not saying anything. Because they, in fact, truly did not know yet.

They pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Why don’t you sleep for a bit? I’ll try to think of something while you’re out, yeah?”

Grim hesitated. “Are you sure, henchman? I can always blow the door down.”

“Call that Plan B. You know I like being a little more subtle than that,” Ito placated.

Grim seemed a little bit dubious about the whole thing, but the bed underneath him was soft, and he drifted off pretty quickly.

Ito smiled, softly, stroking a hand down his back, to make sure he was really asleep.

And then they turned to the room at large, their smile dropping.

It was a simple guest room with an en suite bathroom. Pretending to need to Go and escaping somewhere along the way was out of the question.

It was a few stories up, and the windows didn’t open, so making a great escape through a window wasn’t possible, either.

Ugh.

Ito’s eyes flicked to the mirror on the wardrobe.

They… hadn’t gotten their hands on an actual mirror since they’d gotten to Twisted Wonderland.

They approached it, slowly, almost scared of what they would see.

But it was just… them.

They weren’t sure why, but they had been expecting some kind of change. For their face to not be their own. To be unrecognizable.

They were a little thinner, they supposed, but they had had less access to food, so that wasn’t all that surprising. Their face was less well-maintained, there were a few pieces of hair between their brows that they hadn’t caught, and a few above their lips that they had missed.

They met their own eyes, briefly, and recoiled just slightly.

Had their eyes always been quite that dark? Were they actually dull and lifeless? When people looked at them, did they, too, get the impression that there was nothing staring back?

It was stupid. They knew there was someone in there – they wouldn’t be thinking if there wasn’t. They were being paranoid, looking for some kind of confirmation.

They shivered, just slightly.

And then they hooked their hand around the frame and yanked on the mirror.

They stepped to the side, watching dispassionately as the mirror hit the ground.

“Oh – oh my God!” Ito gasped, kneeling down to clean up.

John burst into the room. A hand grabbed Ito by the back of their shirt and yanked them away from the mirror shards.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” John snapped. “Let me do it.”

Ito nodded, watching through their bangs as John swept the glass away with a gust of wind magic, hugging themself.

“I don’t know what happened!” Ito said, forcing their voice higher. “I was just trying to – to – preen a little and it just fell!”

John led the broken pieces of the mirror out the door, before sending them a placating smile. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

They nodded jerkily.

“And your familiar, is he –?” He glanced at Grim. “How is he still asleep?”

“Honestly? No clue,” Ito said, careful to keep their smile tinged with nerves.

John sighed, softly, running a hand through his hair, fox ears just barely twitching upon his head. “Well, I guess it’s fine. Just… be more careful, yeah?”

Ito nodded again.

They watched him leave once again. Absently, they wondered where he would dispose of the mirror. Would it give them enough time to run? They hadn’t seen any trash cans along the way.

But, to escape, they would have to run up the stairs, and Ito was far less used to the trek than the Scarabia students.

Man…

Ito flopped back on the bed beside Grim, dragging one of their hands out from beneath their armpits. They lifted the mirror shard in their fist, glaring up at it. It was relatively big, but it wouldn’t do them much good unless they were prepared to stab someone.

Which they wouldn’t do. Unless it was necessary, of course. And they doubted it would be. But it still gave them a sense of comfort.

They, slowly, pulled their phone from their pocket.

Let’s see…

They tapped on the one labeled ‘Birdman /neg’ (it seems like Kuroki had renamed all of the contacts) and brought their phone to their ear.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dire Crowley.”

“Crowleyyyyy, I’ve been kidnapped,” Ito whined.

Crowley made a sound not unlike choking on air. “By who?”

(Ito was pretty sure they heard him mutter the words “Why didn’t I think of that?”, but they were going to ignore that.)

“Scarabia. Kalim-senpai’s having some sort of – I dunno – mental break…? And now I’m stuck here.”

“But you have your phone? Are they treating you poorly?”

“They’re gonna make me do a march in the desert, and a bunch of extra homework,” Ito said. “Can you deal with it? Pleaaaase?”

Crowley was quiet for a moment more.

“... well, you know, had you just agreed to come along with me for vaca – investigation, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Oh, you petty bitch.

Ito tipped their head back in a groan. “Alright. Fine. I’ll tell you if they try to, like, kill me or something. In the meantime, I guess it’s my problem, not yours. Bye.”

“Byebye!” Crowley said.

Ito hung up, glaring at the ceiling as they thought.

Alright. Plan… well, not Plan B, that was the Grim-blows-shit-up plan. Which Ito would totally circle back to if worse comes to worst. But, for now, Ito was moving on to Plan C.

Making it Crowley’s problem Pt2.

Also known as: weaponizing their friend group.

Ito picked one named ‘Public Enemy #1’.

“Yea’h’llo?” Ace said. He didn’t sound entirely awake. Ito recalled, suddenly, that the Queendom was a few hours ahead. Whoops.

Oh well. He was awake, now, so…

“Ace! Remember how you said that we should call you if something happened?”

“Yeeesssss?” he said, suddenly much more alert.

“Well. You see. I’ve kinda been kidnapped. And the Headmaster sucks, y’know?”

Was Ito implying that the Headmaster was the one who had kidnapped them? Perhaps. But they hadn’t said it outright, which meant, technically, they weren’t lying!

Ace was quiet.

“Where’s Crowley?”

Ito rattled off the man’s vacation details with ease. They crossed one leg over the other, absently bouncing their foot. “So, you know that, if you say his name, he’ll hear what you say, right? He knows you’re going to go after him.”

“Good.”

Hm. Ace might actually kill Crowley.

Or Ito, when he figured out they were leaving out information.

Or both of them, honestly.

Eh.

Ace needed to find Crowley to get the Dark Mirror open, anyway. Sending him after Crowley was the only way to get him back to campus, as far as they knew, since all of the trams from the school to the village at the base of the mountain would be down for the break… unless Ace wanted to climb the mountain or something, which Ito doubted.

“Great. See you later!” Ito said, cheerfully.

Ace hung up before they could. And without even saying goodbye! How rude.

They pouted. Absently, they scrolled through their contacts again. They could call ‘2 cool for skool’ or ‘Alpha Male Podcaster’, but they were pretty sure Ace would fill them in anyways and, if he didn’t, then Ito figured the two of them should be allowed to enjoy their break.

More importantly, they didn’t want to interrupt their friends’ sleep, so it seems they were moving on to ‘Octopussy Gang’.

“Ito-san!” Azul said, before the phone had rang even once.

There was yelling in the background.

Ito blinked. “I thought this was Floyd Leech-senpai’s number.”

“It is! But! I need you to tell your friends that you’re alright, and on your way home, please. I’m putting you on speaker –.”

“–  FUCKING GIVE ME THE PHONE, AZUL.”

Ito snorted. Ah. So, that’s what was going on in the background.

“You’re doing alright, yes, Ito-san?” Azul prompted, sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

Ito hummed lightly. “Yeah. Doing great.”

“Great, so you two can calm –.”

“I mean. Scarabia kidnapped me, but y’know. The food is nice and the room is free, so I’m dealing.”

“WHAT.”

There were several overlapping voices on the other end of the line after that, a loud BANG!, and then things went more-or-less quiet.

Someone was breathing hard into the mic.

Enma, apparently, because he said, “Hey, Ito. Anything we need to know before we come get you?”

“Did you kill him?” Ito said, flatly. “Because I’m pretty sure phone calls can be recovered as evidence. We cannot go to jail.”

“Nah, he’s… fine-ish.”

Ito decided that was good enough.

“Uhhh. The entrance to the dorm is right next to the mirror. Say fa-ta-ha. Also, the ceiling will have bugs on it.”

Enma sighed, softly. Ito could practically see the way he pinched the space between his brows. “The things I do for you.”

Ito felt their face warm. “M…hmm… thanks.”

“See you soon,” Enma promised.

“See you,” Ito echoed.

“Here’s your phone, senpai,” Enma said, his voice so very sweet.

There was a beat as the phone was handed off.

“Did you not hear me tell you to inform your friends you were doing fine?” Azul asked.

“I did say that,” Ito reminded him, frowning. “I just also ‘informed’ them that I had been kidnapped right after, so they didn’t pay much attention to that.”

Azul hung up.

Ito’s mouth dropped open.

What is wrong with the kids in this world?!

They turned off the phone, sulking, turning onto their side to drag Grim into their chest. This was terrible. They had been kidnapped, and hung up on (twice!), and there was a mirror shard pressed uncomfortably against the side of their stomach. Truly, this was the worst possible dimension.

Grim turned over in their arms, burrowing into the fabric of their shirt.

Awwwww.

Okay. There were some good things about being in this dimension. They supposed.

They let their eyes slip closed, allowing themself to drift for a while.

Not to sleep, they didn’t want to miss it when Enma and Kuroki got there, but drifting nonetheless.

They could spend the time thinking, of course, but, frankly, they hated what their mind always circled back to:

What did it matter, if they accepted this world or not, if they couldn’t go home, anyway?

What was the point in trying to change things, if everything was predetermined from the moment they’d come here?

How were they supposed to care about anything, when nothing was real?

Why were they still playing along?

But Ito preferred to let those kinds of thoughts pass them by.

It was nice, sometimes, to simply not Be. To let their eyes glaze over and their expression go slack and let their mind simply slip out of their head. To focus on making sure their breathing – which they were, unfortunately, extremely aware of – was as even as they could make it.

Because, again, there was no point in doing anything here. Things were going to go however they were going to go regardless of whether Ito wanted them to, so they might as well sit back and let things do what they wanted. Less stressful that way.

Perhaps a little more depressing, but everyone has to make tradeoffs from time to time.

Hm. Another thing to Not Think About.

It took about an hour for them to hear voices coming down the hall.

“– we could steal their weird-as-hell golden toaster, and then sell it to buy a normal toaster and bread to toast,” Kuroki said, laughing maniacally.

“Er,” said John. “I can hear you, you know.”

“No, you can’t,” Enma said.

“Hear what?” Kuroki blatantly gaslit the poor guy. “Are you sure you’re not having a psychotic break? They tend to happen when you’re stressed out, you know.”

“The Headmaster should really get someone on campus to deal with people’s mental issues,” Enma agreed.

“... so, Ito-san is in this room here,” John said, apparently deciding to ignore all of that, and Ito blinked their eyes open just in time to watch the door fling itself open.

Ito sat up, still hugging Grim to their chest, smiling at their friends. “Hey, guys.”

Kuroki trudged over and damn near collapsed on top of them, sending them right back into the plush mattress. “So many stairs…”

“You were going downstairs, shouldn’t it have been fine?”

“It’s so hoooooot,” complained Kuroki. Regardless of his complaints, he pressed against Ito’s side and hung on like a limpet. So it couldn’t have been too bad.

Ito hummed. “Not made for winter or summer, huh?”

Kuroki gave a huff of annoyance. This wasn’t an answer, but they were happy to let it be.

Ito looked up at Enma. “How’re you feeling?”

“Traumatized,” he deadpanned. “Those… bugs…”

“I appreciate you,” Ito said, softly.

Enma crossed his arms over his chest. The tips of his ears tinted red. “You owe me.”

“I do,” they agreed.

Enma flopped back on the bed beside them, groaning lightly. “You owe me so much. Bugs, Ito, there were bugs.”

Ito was aware. They had warned him about said bugs. But they, politely, decided not to say this, instead opting to take his hand and interlace their fingers.

Enma looked at their intertwined hands, his lips pursed. “It’s a little too hot here for cuddles.”

“Kuroki’s dealing with it,” Ito pointed out, grinning.

He sighed. “Well, I can’t be upstaged by Kuroki of all people.”

“Fuck you,” grumbled Kuroki. And then he lifted his head just slightly to glare at John, who was hovering in the doorway, looking extremely awkward. “What are you still doing here?”

John shifted from foot to foot, unsure. “Because I haven’t… shown you two to your rooms, yet?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Enma said, smiling. “We’re staying here.”

John blinked. “... oh?”

“You guys have already kidnapped Ito once, who says you won’t do it again?” Kuroki said.

The other two people in the room nodded their agreement.

Grim probably would have done the same, but he was currently snoring away. Must be nice. Now that the shock and adrenaline of being held somewhere against their will AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK WAS THEIR LUCK – had faded, they were exhausted.

John opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he really wanted to say something but couldn’t muster up the willpower to, before apparently thinking better of it. “Uh – hm – sleep well.”

“Is he our senpai?” Enma whispered.

“No, he’s in our class,” Ito said.

Enma squinted at John for a second, as if trying to place him.

“He’s friends with that one guy who – who –...” Ito frowned, trying to think of the word for it. “Doesn’t… talk.”

“Oh, the mute kid?” Kuroki said.

“... suuuuure,” Ito said, because they weren’t sure if that was the word but damn if they weren’t going to pretend they knew it.

John was, apparently, sick of being gossiped about so openly (or, at least, upset that he was, according to the three of them, pretty much unrecognizable when he wasn’t with his friend), because he sighed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Absently, Ito wondered if he would have to sleep out there.

And then they decided that, really, they didn’t care all that much.

“So, what’s the plan?” Ito said.

“Destroy this place from the inside,” Kuroki shrugged.

Ito hummed. They had expected that. “I’ve already told the Headmaster about what’s going on, so we’re well on our way.”

Enma pressed his cheek against the top of their head. “Aw, you know us so well.”

“Well, yeah, if there’s any guarantee in life, it’s that you guys’ll be petty at every given opportunity.”

“Don’t want to hear that from you,” grumbled Enma.

Ito settled down to sleep. “Wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing.”

And, despite their friends’ complaints that it was hot, Ito drifted off feeling pleasantly warm.

(To be fair, though, they had always liked warmer climates, so it could just be that.)

[fuckmeyer]

Come Nightfall deleted scenes: Bobby Vinton

[in which Edward and Bella are listening to music in her room negotiating a deal to get her to the birthday party]

“What the hell is this?”

Edward glanced down at the laptop like he’d forgotten what he was doing. “I’ve embarked on a quest.”

Already, I could feel the tension melting out of the air. Again, I tipped back in my chair and looked at him from over my shoulder. “And that is?”

His eyes glittered, trailing down the screen. “I need songs that make me feel how you make me feel.”

“I’m sure there’s a song called ‘Stick In The Mud.’”

“I already added it,” he said, throwing me a wink.

As the singer’s vibrato trailed to the end of the measure, I leaned back further in my chair and roamed the ceiling with my eyes, musing. “So, what, you feel ‘Blue Velvet’ about me?”

“What’s with the tone? This is a classic.”

“No tone.” He studied my face. “It's just. Tony Bennett, The Clovers, Gene Ammons—fantastic ‘Blue Velvet’s. Out of all those great covers, you pick Bobby Vinton?”

Edward’s campaign to get me to like Bobby Vinton was about as aggressive as his campaign to get me to love Elvis Presley’s Girls Girls Girls. If he liked something, he tended to be unrelenting about it. And he loved 1950s crap.

He could never know about the painting I’d made listening to only Bobby Vinton. (Bobby Vinton Sings for Lonely Nights, obviously. It fit the theme of my life.) I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Bobby Vinton was one of the least inspiring artists of the 1950s. I would die on that hill.

“What is your problem with him? You’ve never given me a straight answer.”

I scrunched up my face like I’d eaten a lemon. When he rolled his eyes, I reached out to him. The chair’s two legs slid out from under it. I squealed as I plunged to the floor.

Edward caught the backrest. His head looming over me eclipsed my bedroom light. He raised a brow.

“Oh, Edward. He’s melodramatic trash.” Edward let go of the chair. I yelped and seized him by the shirt to catch myself from falling. “Stop! It’s truth!”

He’d already caught the backrest again, grinning at my reaction. Our bare skin brushing together felt like fire had erupted in my veins. My head swam.

“The first line of your favorite Simon & Garfunkel song is ‘Hello darkness my old friend’—”

“No, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water,’ duh.”

“Please, talk to me about melodramatic trash. I’m all ears.”

With one hand on the chair, Edward held out his other hand to me. I took his hand, crawled out of the tilted chair and settled into his lap, peering back at his laptop screen.

“Bobby Vinton is a total square.”

What little rift remained dissolved when I cuddled in next to him, when our skin met, when we melted into each other. No iron curtain. Just us, grazing each other’s skin and kissing and nuzzling, something second-nature.

“Bobby Vinton had more Billboard 100 hits from 1962 through 19—”

“You only like him cuz he wrote ‘Mr. Lonely.’”

“—than any other male voca— Not true.”

“So true. Oh my god. You’ve played that song like fifty billion times. You’re a sucker for melodrama.” The sparkle in his eyes dulled and a grin cracked over my face. “What? I’ve been listening to your fifties garbage all summer. I’m allowed to have an opinion.”

He flipped me onto my back and pulled me by the hips into him. “You seemed to like my fifties garbage,” he purred in my ear, “as I recall, Miss Swan. And I’ve listened to plenty of your six-minute 70s rock-operas, so shut your mouth.”

As if on cue, the dream-pop song dissolved into Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’.

“Oh, Isabella, get your lips off me, for god’s sake, I’m trying to be mad at you…”

I didn’t stop nipping at his neck. Edward hips shifted underneath me; I could feel him swallow back a moan.

Yeah. That song was on our summer playlist. Back in an era when Edward was, as he called, “reckless with his boundaries.”

“Hm. That’s a good trade,” I mused to myself.

He was “reckless with his boundaries” when I listened to his fifties garbage, too. But I knew he’d prefer for me not to bring it up.

“What, listening to your crap music?”

“No.” I combed my fingers through Edward’s hair, twisting the locks into their usual wild shape. Pondering. Another little negotiating trick I’d picked up.

The fact that Edward knew I was plotting but couldn’t hear my thoughts drove him crazy. Anticipation killed him. Give him a mystery and he got huffy with impatience—another cute trait of his and, in situations like these, it proved very convenient.

Edward huffed.

My lips trailed up his neck; his gruff turned into a sigh. “So if I can’t bring up the change—”

“You can’t.”

“—can I negotiate for something else?” Softer, in his ear, I said, “Including but not limited to a kiss?”

My hot breath on his cold neck made him shudder instinctively. “Kiss, singular? I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten that request.”

“My expectations have officially hit rock bottom.”

“Quite the charmer, Miss Swan.”

Most days, I didn’t have trouble convincing him for one measly kiss. And one always carried on long, so it was really more like one and a half. If he had just hunted or if I had just said something sweet or if we kissed during a song he liked, we could push it to two and a half. And since two and a half was basically three—

By the time he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips to mine, my head spun with the smell of him; the spicy, warm scent on him intoxicated me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked myself to him. The hunger for more energy—more intoxication, more power, more of him—tore through me.

When he tore himself away, we breathed ragged against each other’s lips.

“I can’t discuss—that,” he said. “The change. Not now. Please do not ask me again.”

I nodded. My hands roamed the sensitive parts of his exposed skin, reading his reactions like a map written in braille.

Edward growled low and deep; it rolled out of him like a warning. I stroked the side of his throat with my thumb; his tongue flicked across my skin.

He continued in a low voice. “But if you’re hellbent on getting a good deal out of your birthday—” I chuckled softly at him. “—I’ll do my best to meet your terms, whatever they may be. I will try.”

I kissed his cheek.

“Be good,” he said, his fingers roaming down my chest. He took his hand away and it settled on my hip. A promising reaction.

“Okay,” I murmured.

He kept my forehead glued to his to prevent me from attacking his neck. His bare skin touching mine felt like someone was pouring effervescent champagne over my brain and letting it run down the rest of me.

We stayed there, holding each other, for a long while.

[daddycest-hub]

Quadruple Action MILF

Bobbie approached the Ritter house with one goal in mind: get Matt to finally pay of his debt. He'd been nice, giving the kid every extension he could afford, but his debt had just become too big, almost half a million. Bobbie couldn't operate with that kind of loss and Matt just had to understand that. It was just business, nothing personal.

He knocked on the door and waited (im)patiently for an answer. When the door finally swung open, he was shocked by what he saw.

"Hello. Can I help you?" said ruby red lips, attached to a face framed by voluminous blonde hair. A slender neck drew his eyes toward the gigantic knockers that were barely held in by her low cut top, which showed just the barest edge of a lace bra. Her waist dipped into a perfect hourglass figure that finished off with a perfectly sized, perky ass that was just barely covered by her skirt, but the slits on the side gave him a decent view of what was underneath.

"Uh, yeah," he said, not looking up from her stunning body. "I'm looking for Matt Ritter."

"Oh, are you one of my son's friends?" She grinned. "I'm Y/N, Matt's mother. He's out right now but she should be home soon. Do you want to wait for him?"

"I'd like that," he said distractedly.

"Alright, come in." Y/N led him inside. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No, that's alright, I won't be staying long...."

"Oh." She actually seemed disappointed. "Well, I'm not sure when Matt will be back exactly.... What did you want to talk to him about?"

Bobbie was a proud businessman, but he was weak to a sexy woman. He should wait and demand his money from Matt, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Surely a good mother would be willing to do him a favor for her son.....

"Well, it just happens that he owes me some money, and he's very behind on our payment plan."

Y/N frowned. "Well, I know I raised my Matthew better than that. I'll have to have a talk with him later.... How much does he owe you?"

"Almost 500k," Bobbie said bluntly. "And he's very behind on his payments."

"Oh, dear...." Y/N's frown morphed into a sultry smirk. "I don't suppose there's anything I could do...?" She ran a perfectly manicured finger down his chest and stepped closer, a sexy sway in her steps as she got close enough to press her impressive tits against his chest. "Maybe, something I could give you as a substitute?" she purred, practically grinding on him. "Something that could make that debt just...go away?" she whispered in his ear, brushing her lips against the outside of his ear.

Bobbie kept his composure despite his hardening cock, tenting his expensive pants. He ran his hands down her back and firmly grabbed her ass. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement," he said with a smirk of his own. "Why don't we start with me fucking you on his bed?"

Y/N practically melted into him. "I suppose that's fair," she said.

Amazing looks and a slut? It must be Bobbie's lucky day. "Lead the way, doll."

Y/N bit her lip and giggled before leading him up the stairs to Matt's bedroom. The room itself was a bit messy, but the bed was pristinely made; perfect.

"Strip for me, dollface," Bobbie ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I wanna see what I'm working with."

Y/N groaned and did as she was told. The shirt went first, freeing her massive tits that were only just constrained by her bra. Next went the skirt (not that is was covering much) leaving her only in her damp underwear. She unclipped her bra and let it fall to the floor, showing off every inch of her perky tits, Bobbie's mouth was watering just looking at them.

Y/N then turned around, bent over, and pushed her panties down, her legs spread just so, giving him a full view of her cunt, which was just as juicy as her ass.

"Damn, dollface," he muttered. "I don't even know where to start with you...."

Y/N slowly stood up, turned around, and walked over to the bed before sitting on his lap and slowly grinding her pussy on his clothed cock. "Well, are you a tits man, an ass man, or a pussy man?" she asked breathlessly. "I can do all three and more...."

Bobbie grabbed each of her tits in one hand, enjoying how his fingers disappeared into her flesh. "I think I wanna start here," he said, which was the only warning she got before he started motorboating her.

Her soft, perfect flesh felt amazing on his face, and he could tell she liked it too with the way she gasped and moaned and sped up her grinding on his cock. He kept it up, rubbing his face all over her jugs and leaving little kissas as he went. He kept going until she whined and came on him, leaving a damp spot on his pants.

He threw her on the bed after that, flipping her over onto her stomach. He whipped his cock out and rubbed her pussy juices all over himself. "I'm gonna fuck your ass, then your pussy, and we're gonna go until I'm satisfied. Got it?" he said.

"Oh, please!" Y/N screamed. "Use me, fill me up, take me please!" she begged, humping the air like a bitch in heat.

Bobbie didn't need any further invitation, sliding into her ass in one smooth thrust. Y/N moaned and moved her hips back against him and he couldn't help but smirk. "I didn't take you for an anal whore," he jeered. "Then again, you're probably a whore for anything, aren't you?"

Y/N keened and whined. "Such a whore," she agreed. "Imma slut, always have been...."

"You are a slut. A properly built bimbo with tits and ass to match," he muttered. "Basically a walking sex toy. But you love that, don't you?" he teased as he thrust in and out of her.

Y/N moaned. "Love it, so much. Love cock....."

Bobbie smirked and kept fucking in and out of her, plowing her into the mattress until he came, spilling his seed into her guts. Still hard, he pulled out of her ass and slammed into her pussy.

Y/N screamed. "Oh, Bobbie! Moreeeeee!"

And who was he to deny such a polite request.

He made thorough use of both her holes until Y/N was a drooling mess on the mattress. He wiped his cock off with her panties and tucked himself back into his pants.

He headed back downstairs just in time to run into Matt. "Oh, Bobbie. Um, about the money-"

"Don't worry about it," Bobbie said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Your mom and I worked out a deal," he assured his client. "All debts forgiven. And I've got a game you've absolutely gotta get in on....."

[holy-hyuck]

NCT Dream Reaction: They See You Wearing Their Clothes

warning: there’s like a swear word or two in jaemin’s

by the way, would you guys want me to add shotaro and sungchan as a bonus into these since they’re not in a permanent unit yet?

also no, i absolutely do not have a crush on jaemin, what are you talking about?

Mark

It was so cold, so unbelievably cold in Mark’s apartment. You told him to fix the heating but he’s been too busy binging Netflix to bother. Shivering in your thin tee, you rummaged through Mark’s closet for something warm to wear. If he wasn’t going to get the heating sorted, you were going to steal every last one of his hoodies until he had no other choice.

Throwing the black, oversized hoodie over your head, you made your way downstairs and plopped on the couch beside him, making him turn his attention away from the TV screen and towards you.

“Is that my- Is that my hoodie?”

“Yes, it is. Actually, it’s now mine, at least until you get the heating fixed.” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

Laughing, he threw his arms around you and started mumbling into your neck.

“Gosh, you’re so cute, you have no idea.”

You let out a whine, surrendering. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Renjun

You stayed over at the Dreamies’ dorm with the intent of catching up with them since their busy schedule meant you barely saw them - especially your boyfriend. A sleepover and a movie night seemed like a great idea.

The boys already had a table stacked with snacks and drinks.

You made the awful decision of wearing denim shorts, which meant twisting and turning for the first thirty minutes of the first movie Jeno picked until he had to go to the toilet and you paused it.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin asked, seeing your discomfort.

You shook your head, looking over at your boyfriend. “Do you have anything comfortable I could wear?” you asked, a puppy-like look on your face (or at least an attempted one), and he obliged, bringing you a pair of his sweatpants.

Once Jeno exited the toilet, you changed into your boyfriend’s clothes, coming back into the living room. Upon seeing you, Renjun burst into laughter, the already slightly baggy (on him) sweatpants completely drowning out your legs so it looked like you were wearing a trash bag over them.

“Y-You l-look great-”

He managed between laughs, covering his face, his head falling back into the couch cushions as he nearly fell on Jaemin. He was hoping his hand also covered his blush because - although he wasn’t sure what exactly it was - something about you wearing his clothes made him feel fuzzy inside and he hoped to see you in them again - just maybe in different circumstances.

Jeno

Out on the beach with your friends was the best way you could think of to spend the last weekend off before school. You sat on the sand, watching Yeri and Jaemin splash each other with water, their swimming suits soaked. They've been at it for the past fifteen minutes, and it all started because Jaemin drank one espresso too much and threw Yeri into the water.

You sat next to Jeno, both of you watching your friends laugh, and next to him sat Renjun, who typed on his phone like his life depended on it. You and Jeno didn't speak much; you were a bit awkward around each other, you'll admit, but that's only because two months ago, you kissed during a game of spin the bottle, and it was a little more heated than you would like, and now maybe, just maybe, you've developed a crush on the black-haired boy.

It was weird - you've known him for three years, and never looked at him that way. Only after the kiss, you started seeing him as this handsome guy with crescent-shaped eyes when he smiled, and not just a friend who wasn't ugly.

Your two friends finally got out of the water, making their way to their towels and drying themselves off. You shivered, the evening weather finally catching up to you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed the skin harshly, hoping to generate some heat, and hoping you'll be making your way back home soon.

Renjun noticed this and shoved Jeno with his elbow, gesturing to you. When Jeno gave him a confused look, he rolled his eyes and started tugging on Jeno's jacket in an attempt to take it off. They had a little fight to the right of you, but you were none the wiser and ignored them until Jeno cleared his throat. You looked in his direction to see him taking off his jacket and draping it across your shoulders before giving you a small smile.

"You looked like you needed it."

You smiled at him. "Thank you." Both of you looked at the sand beneath your feet, heat rising to your cheeks.

To your left, Jaemin and Yeri exchanged a look and simultaneously rolled their eyes. You were both so goddamn oblivious.

Haechan / Donghyuck

You clipped your hair back with the lonely bobby pin in your pocket, pulling the jacket around you tighter to brace yourself for the ruthless winds outside. Exiting the shop with Donghyuck by your side, you picked up your pace to make it home before it became any colder or windier - which it did, a minute into your journey.

The wind made your eyes water and you shrunk yourself, head down, ignoring your boyfriend, who began failing to catch up to you.

Suddenly, you felt something warm wrap around your neck and turned around to find your boyfriend securing his scarf around it, unzipping your jacket to tuck it underneath, then zipping it back up. It left his neck exposed due to the low-cut t-shirt he wore under his leather jacket, and you frowned at the sight of it, opening your mouth to protest before he interrupted you.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. You look like you need it more than me.”

Wrapping his arm around you, thus offering you even more of his body’s warmth, he led you towards his apartment, where he made you hot cocoa and cuddled you until you felt warm again.

You still didn’t take off his scarf, and he never asked for it back.

Jaemin

Maybe you didn't remember much from last night, however, when you woke up with a white, oversized denim jacket hanging from your desk chair, you were reminded of Jaemin - a loud and charming boy from one of your classes - lending you the covering after he walked you home after one too many drinks. In your defence, you bet with your friend that you could handle more shots than her, and won (the vomiting-in-the-garden part doesn't matter).

You got ready and rushed into your lecture hall, sitting somewhere in the middle and eyeing the students to spot the black-haired boy. When you managed to finally do so, he was already talking to one of his best friends, and the professor had started the lecture.

At the end of the lecture, you went up to Jaemin, who again, had busied himself talking to his friend. But when the other boy, Lee Jeno, saw you, he slapped Jaemin across the chest to get his attention.

Finally, Jaemin turned to you, taking a second or two to take in your appearance, his denim jacket hanging loosely on your shoulders. He almost laughed, his smile getting bigger than you've ever seen it. In the background, Jeno was laughing his ass off at Jaemin's reaction.

You cleared your throat. "Sorry, I just saw it on my chair today. It's yours right?" You took the jacket off of you and handed it to him once the boy nodded his head. "Thanks for last night, I don't know how I've survived but you certainly made it easier. Anyway, I'll see you later. You too, Jeno."

The older boy waved his hand at you and walked to Jaemin as the two of them watched you leave. "They looked good, huh?"

Jaemin looked to Jeno and smiled. "Fucking gorgeous."

Chenle

You may or may not have gotten too comfortable during your last few weeks of university, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie every day around your house, only swapping out the bottoms for a pair of jeans when going out. Honestly, you couldn't even remember the last time you put any effort into your appearance.

However, the dreadful day came when you had to meet Chenle's friends. You weren't dating for long, only a couple of weeks at most, so you felt the need to impress both them and your boyfriend. Thankfully, the plan to go to an amusement park were cancelled and swapped out for a movie night, so you felt okay with throwing on a hoodie and calling it a day. Spotting a bright blue coloured one in the corner of your bed, and realising it's Chenle's, you quickly pulled it over your head and rushed out of your house after realising you were late.

You were shaking the whole way to Jisung's house, hoping to calm down by the time you got there. He graciously let you inside and introduced you to two other guys and a girl, and you hoped they would spare you the embarrassment of wiping their hands after touching your sweaty palm.

"I like your hoodie," the girl said.

"Oh, thank you. It's Chenle's, actually," you replied after a beat. "Um, where is he?" You looked around, unable to spot the blond boy.

Suddenly, you heard a high-pitched scream coming from your right, an exclamation of "cute!" yelled your way, right before being tackled to the ground by the man-child in question. He pulled the hood over your head and grinned down at you.

"I'm guessing you like it?"

Jisung

Grabbing a book off Jisung's bedside table, you plopped on his bed with nothing but his thick, blue robe on. Admittedly, it was warm and cosy; definitely something you would have to steal. You skimmed through some of the pages of the history textbook before becoming bored and chucking it next to you.

Standing up from the mattress, you wandered around his room, waiting until he finished his shower.

"Hey, have you seen my-" Jisung came out of the bathroom, holding a towel to his chest, "-robe?"

He sighed, looking at you in his garment as you smiled like the Cheshire cat.

"Can I have that back?"

You skidded across the room to stand in front of him, going on your tip-toes and giving him a peck on the lips. "Nope."

Jisung shook his head at your antics before going to change into some clothes.

[hiddles-and-skittles]

Home, James

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,086

Summary: Sam and Bucky finally return home after a mission, but Bucky is stubborn about getting the help he needs for his ailments from an expert. He always chooses you.

Warnings: mutual pining/mutual idiots, mentions of injury but it's not graphic, honestly can't think of anything else but feel free to let me know!

Notes: Another self-indulgent piece lol. I liked the idea of Bucky intentionally getting hurt on a mission but refusing to go to a hospital because he'd rather you heal him. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I thought I’d just go ahead and post it.

______________

Two missions, back to back. It was happening more often lately, much to your dismay.  

The boys had been away for almost a month this time and while you enjoyed your solitude, it was getting rather lonely without Sam and Bucky bantering in the background.  

And okay, maybe it was lonelier without Bucky.  

You absolutely had a crush on your roommate that you and Sam adopted in. But if anything, he only saw you as a sister. Sam teased you relentlessly about liking him every time you denied it because you knew nothing would come of it, so why get your hopes up? Bucky was wonderful in every sense of the way, and even if he didn’t feel the same about you, you’d make damn sure to prove to him just how amazing he was. Even if it cost the entirety of your crushed heart.  

You are currently tucked into the living room sofa, sipping hot chocolate and watching reruns of Supernatural. Bobby drops his infamous one worded line of “Balls!” when your apartment door swings open to reveal to your two very sweaty, very exhausted roommates.    

You set your mug down and excitedly leap from your spot to greet them. Sam is all but dragging his feet across the floor and Bucky has a slight limp, but he straightens up when he notices you looking at him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so glad y’all are home!” you shut the door behind Bucky, who slumps back against it. “You guys okay? Either of you need any stitches?”  

“Well,” Sam starts. “I’m mostly intact. But I Robot over there? He’s worse than me, he just won’t say it out loud.” He discards his duffel bag next to the couch, flopping down onto it before getting comfortable.  

Bucky listlessly shoves himself away from the door. “I’m fine,” he growls, glaring at Sam. The thick tension between the duo makes it clear that they’ve been stuck together for far too long. He makes his way towards the refrigerator to probably look for a beer, but angrily slams the door back when he sees there isn’t any.  

You sigh. “Come on, Bucky, let me see.” He leans onto the table with his hands, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Slowly you walk over to him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. You peer up at him earnestly. “Please show me?”  

*

You’re somewhat ungrateful for the bathroom light revealing the bloodied black eye that Bucky has. A freshly scabbed over cut trails from beneath his right clavicle and underneath his layers of clothing-how he constantly wears so many still manages to bewilder you. “Jesus Bucky, why do you always do this? You’re hurt! I swear I don’t know what to do with you.” You start to tug the hem of his shirt up to make him remove it when he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“’s okay. Nothing’s bleedin.’” Your eyes meet his. You don’t want to imagine how many bruises are littered across the super soldier’s torso.

“Except for that,” you gesture towards the purple ring around his eye that started oozing blood and water you don’t know how long ago. He winces as he adjusts himself, and you gather the supplies needed to treat his wound. “Seriously, Buck, you do this every time,” you fret while ringing out a rag that you’ve dampened with warm water. “Please take care of yourself. I’m not a nurse by any means; I only know a little from what Sam’s taught me. So if you happen to come home in pieces after a rough mission, I won’t be able to stitch you back together.” He twiddles his thumbs while peering up at you expectantly and you hook your index finger under his chin to stabilize your movements.

You don’t know.  

He doesn’t care how inexperienced you are about treating wounds. He doesn’t care. He almost counts on getting a nick or cut just so you’ll react the way you’re reacting right now, tenderly caressing him and making his heart flutter. He insists to Sam after every mission that he’s fine when they both know he isn’t because he knows that you’ll tend to him. Always. He doubts any random nurse would ever treat him the way you do and he’s reluctant to find out. You take your time with him, checking him over to see if there’s a wound he’s fibbed about, trying to appear tougher to you is what you think.  

And oh, there it is.  

That hesitant touch of yours that’s grown confident the more he’s sat before you with that kicked puppy look. You dab onto the surface of the scrape and he nudges into your palm so subtly you barely catch it. His eyes close as he exhales, finally allowing himself to relax into the familiarity. You face the sink once more after you disinfect him, washing your hands a good while to get all the blood off. Bucky breaks the silence. “You’re like the housewife I never got to have.”

You snort out a short laugh at his admission, ringing out the rag for a second time. “Don’t call me a housewife.”

“You cook, clean-”  

“-I work a mean microwave,” you interrupt, smiling. “Who else is gonna clean up the mud you drag in with you?”  

“-you patch us up,” he continues, seeming agitated.

“When I have to. But Bucky, I swear you do this on purpose,” you teasingly raise an eyebrow at him.

“You make me feel right at home,” he blurts impatiently.  

“Ha!” you lay the rag over the ledge of the sink to air dry. “Sure I do.” Bucky doesn’t respond so you take a chance to glance down at him, not realizing the sincerity behind his words. “You’re...not joking.” He shies away, a bit of blush sneaking up his neck.  

All the times you’ve both ended up in this position, with Bucky sitting either on the side of the tub or the lid of the toilet, gazing up at you and anticipating your mild scolding, your attentive touches...everything. You only joked half-heartedly when you’d said he did this on purpose, but the more you think about this, in retrospect, you believe it’s true. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Well, in that case...” you bend down to cradle his bruised cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along his cheekbones. The second his pleading eyes meet yours, you press a tender kiss to his busted lips. 

“...welcome home, James.”

[subspencer]

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

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