#lot to unpack there buddy

[ace-of-feathers]

Tumblr truly is an interesting place

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

can we hold hands and listen to this together

[daisywords]

Got some solid plot stuff in recently so I can get back to the important stuff: sprinkling in Trip's weird complexes

[guild-museum]

I have GOT to get my Ogerpon a better Halloween costume

Ogerpon as Buddy...The thought process here was a mix of "well they both have masks.." and "well it would be cute.." And while it may be perhaps a bit cursed, it's cute at least..!!

[magentagalaxies]

creation of adam but it's this photo of me handing scott the martini before his buddy cole set in the KITH toronto show

[gumy-shark]

Re: the Shou and Teru roomate situation I think it's sooo. Interesting to think of the different and same ways they have been affected by Claw. Shou not having a place to stay after the world domination arc bc like where is he supposed to go/where was he even staying to begin with. And Teru bc Claw BLEW UP HIS APARTMENT...

EXACTLY!!

also btw their friend group does not find out about this situation until shou invites ritsu over to hang out and the same time teru invites mob over. from then on teru forces shou to coordinate calendar events with him once a week to prevent conflicts from happening again

[ch1zzie]

Some Julie's and idk a little thingy for today

[wildehacked]

for the soft fic meme, 12 for buddie?

A little coda to "Invisible"—set decidedly before "Contagion!" 12. ‘you could say I’m fond of you.’ * Buck fucks it up after, like, a month. He knew he was gonna. It’s just that most of the time the only people he talks on the phone to are Maddie and his parents—like any self-respecting millennial, he texts everyone else. And when you say goodbye to your mom or your sister or your adorable tiny niece, you say something like “okay, bye now, love you.” It’s just habit, honestly. If he talked on the phone more often to more people, it wouldn’t happen at all.  He’s talking on the phone a lot now. Eddie started it literally on the drive to El Paso—Buck was still standing on the street, his heart a miserable bruise in his chest, and then his phone chimed and Eddie was FaceTiming him. Buck opened it, all like, hey man, what’d you forget, but Eddie was just grinning at him from behind the wheel, eyes on the road and not the camera. Dude, Eddie said. I know it’s just drizzling, but you’re gonna get soaked if you don’t go inside. So Buck rolled his eyes and wiped the California rain off his face and went inside, and he slowly and inefficiently unpacked a box of silverware while Eddie complained about the price of gas and asked him about Pilot stations vs Loves vs Texacos, and Buck did his best impression of a normal person whose best friend was in the act of leaving him, even though his heart was pulsing in his throat like he’d swallowed one of those Looney Tune ticking time bombs, and surely that wasn’t normal at all. 

Anyway, now they’re always on the phone. Eddie calls first, usually—Buck’s eased up on the restriction a bit, but at first he was determined not to be too clingy, so they waited on Eddie’s schedule, whether Eddie needed him, wanted him, or whatever—but it turns out Eddie needs him all the time. Wants him all the time. Wants to talk to him all the time. Whatever. Buck talks to Eddie while he shops for groceries, while he cooks dinner at the firehouse, while he’s cooling off after a run. 

He gets access to all these aching pieces of Eddie’s life: a glimpse of the backseat of Eddie’s new car, little flash of Eddie’s local Albertsons, peeling wallpaper in Eddie’s new living room that looks nothing like the pictures. And he hears about conversations with Chris (so much better already,) and conversations with Eddie’s mom (bad, not that Buck can say so,) and Uber rides that went well and Uber rides that went bad, and recipes Eddie tried that went wrong, and recipes Eddie tried that went right, and whether there’s mold in the bathroom and whether Eddie needs to hire someone to put in new windows or whether he can do it himself, and—yeah. It’s almost normal, if Buck and Eddie normally lived their lives on FaceTime. 

So Buck’s guard is down, which is why when the bell rings and Eddie’s mid-rant about airport security (loitering in the cell phone lot at the El Paso International Airport waiting for a ride to come in,) he fumbles his coffee cup and says “gotta go, okay, love you, buh-bye.” 

He hangs up before he even hears himself, and then feels his ears heat up all the way down to the rig. That was so embarrassing. Like calling the teacher mom. Like calling Cap dad. Ugh. He’ll have to explain to Eddie that it’s just because of the Maddie-Jee-parents phone thing. Later. 

But later, after the next three calls, when Eddie calls to complain about people coughing in the Uber without masks again, Buck somehow totally forgets to say anything. And then Eddie gets another ride, and he has to go, and Buck fucking. Does it again. “Be safe, love you, bye.” He hears Eddie’s surprised laugh before he fumbles to the hang-up button, and his stomach goes watery and weird. 

It’s not that weird, is the thing! Obviously he loves Eddie, they’re best friends. It’s just one of those dumb things, that he doesn’t usually say it to his friends. Probably a toxic masculinity thing, if Hen’s right about that. He should be telling all his friends he loves them. He just hates the idea that Eddie might, like—get the wrong idea. It’s not stupid to think that. Maddie thought that. Tommy thought that. Buck has to be careful, really careful, or Eddie’s going to get weirded out and stop giving Buck even these little half-real glimpses into his life. 

“I love you,” he tells Hen in the rig on their way to an apartment fire. 

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh-kay. You know something I don’t know?” 

“No,” Buck says with kind of a forced breeziness. “Just telling my friend I love her.” 

“Sure,” she says, still sounding doubtful. “I love you too?” 

“What about me,” Chim asks, kicking Buck’s chair with the side of his boot. He and Hen give each other one of those best friend looks that Buck is used to but can’t decipher.

“Uh, duh,” Buck says, even though he’s tempted to say Eh, depends whether you name my nephew after me, because he’s trying to prove a point, here. “What about Cap?” Chim prompts, and Bobby raises his eyebrows from the front of the rig.

“Obviously I love Cap,” Buck says, like that isn’t the most awkward sentence to ever come out of his mouth. Bobby sort of winces back at him, but he looks touched, too? It’s a very Midwestern kind of look. 

“What about Ravi,” Chim asks, snapping his gum, and Buck’s stomach sinks because, like, he really likes Ravi, he trusts Ravi with his life, he thinks he and Ravi honestly should become better friends, but like, does he love him? Uhh, well—but Ravi immediately shakes his head, not looking up from his phone. “Leave me out of this one,” Ravi says mildly. “Freaks.” “What brought this on?” Hen asks. 

“I keep accidentally telling Eddie I love him,” Buck says. “That’s not weird, right?” 

He gets laughed at for the rest of the shift.

* The thing is, it does actually bother Buck. Like, he’s into dudes now. He doesn’t want Eddie to think Buck’s into him. That’s important—has been since the beginning. Nothing changes between the two of them. Buck is determined not to change anything between them. Because it would be easy, right? Everybody else thinks so. It would make sense for Buck to be this pathetic loser in love with his straight best friend, haunting his house just like he haunted Abby’s house. And he’s not. He loves Eddie in a totally normal way. He loves Eddie in the way that Eddie could love him back. 

So the next time Eddie FaceTimes him, Buck’s determined to make sure Eddie gets it. He doesn’t get his chance right away, though, because before he can open his mouth, Eddie’s putting a finger up to his lips, and Buck’s jaw snaps shut. Eddie flips the camera around, and there’s Eddie’s new living room, and Eddie’s old couch, and there’s Chris, passed out with his Switch in his lap. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist.

Eddie flips the camera back around, and walks quietly out of the living room—he’s not looking at the camera, but Buck gets a glimpse of the small, private smile on his face anyway. See, it’s shit like that—how is Buck supposed to risk that? Eddie slips out the front door, and then settles down on the stoop, the late afternoon Texas sun turning his hair gold around the edges. 

“You got him back,” Buck guesses, and Eddie smiles at him, huge and happy like Buck hasn’t seen in months. “I got him back,” Eddie confirms, and Buck whoops and punches the air, which means he also accidentally drops the phone. 

“Tell me,” Buck demands, when Eddie stops laughing—not at him, but with him, giddy with his own success. “Tell me everything!”

“You were right,” Eddie says. “I just needed to show up.” Then he tells Buck the rest of the story—how he drove out to Lubbock, how Chris threw up and Eddie stepped up, how Chris hates chess, how it was easy, in the end, to draw a line in the sand with his mom. Buck is so, so happy for him, for them, for his Diaz boys, which makes it so weird that his chest just hurts the whole time Eddie’s telling him the story. 

“I knew it,” Buck says when Eddie wraps it up. “I knew he missed you.” 

Eddie’s still smiling with all his teeth, looking almost embarrassed about it. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, he did.” 

“I love that,” Buck says, or—well, okay. That’s what he means to say. What he actually says is “I love you,” a stupid slip of the tongue followed immediately by a weird hot lurch in his chest. “Wait! No.” “No?” Eddie asks. He’s laughing, thank god. “No,” Buck says firmly. “That’s too bad,” Eddie says. “I’m kinda fond of you.” “I,” Buck says, choking a little on his desire to correct the record. “Eddie! Obviously I—I mean, like—you know what I mean!” “You don’t love me,” Eddie agrees, and dramatically claps the hand not holding the phone to his chest, like he’s been shot through the heart.

“I love Hen,” Buck says, and he knows that’s a miss as soon as it comes out of his mouth. 

“Oh sure,” Eddie says, and he’s actually giggling, the phone shaking in his hand. “Me too.” 

“Eddiiiie,” Buck says again, stretching out the word in a little bit of a whine. Okay, whatever, time to give explaining his best shot. “You know, I like—most of the time I’m talking to Maddie or Jee on the phone, when I talk on the phone? And it’s, like, it’s habit.”

Eddie’s looking at him like he’s crazy, but also like he’s a cute animal video. “Have you seriously been stressing about this? Over a couple of I love yous?” 

Buck’s throat is dry. He swallows and it clicks. “I—I don’t want to make it weird, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says, and loses the cute animal video face. “It's not weird.” 

Buck is going to crawl into a hole and die. He’s gonna find a shovel, dig a hole, and crawl into it. “It’s not?” 

“No.” “I, um.” Buck feels weirdly shaky, even though this conversation isn’t a big deal and he knows he should be celebrating Eddie and Christopher right now instead of getting all adrenalized over nothing. “I thought it might be.”  “You’re crazy,” Eddie says warmly. “Tell me more about how you love Hen.” “Shut up,” Buck says. “I told everyone I loved them.” 

“Wow,” Eddie says. “Even Ravi?” 

“I could love Ravi,” Buck says defensively, because he actually probably could! He and Ravi have been hanging out more lately! He’s getting into frisbee golf! “Ravi’s great,” Eddie agrees. “When’s his birthday?” “I don’t know, I’ll have to check your Facebook,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs, and the camera shakes with the movement. When Eddie readjusts, he brings it back closer to his face, and Buck can see the way his eyes are turning a little gold in the sunlight, too. 

“Okay,” Buck says, “Enough of that. Tell me more about how Chris is doing.” 

Eddie smiles at him. They talk about Chris for a while, then about Eddie’s plans for what he’s gonna make Chris for dinner, then about Buck’s upcoming weekend plans with Maddie and Chim. Eventually the sun starts to go down in El Paso, and Eddie says: “Alright, I should probably let you go.” 

“Okay,” Buck says, even though he doesn’t want to hang up. “Don’t over-salt the pasta water.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I won’t.” Then he gets a sly grin on his face, which is the only warning Buck gets before Eddie says: “Love you, man.”

Buck’s heart somersaults in his chest. “Love you, too,” he gets out, and Eddie’s back to laughing at him as he hangs up. 

Buck stares at his dark phone, then taps it anxiously against his knee. It’s not weird. Eddie said it wasn’t weird. If it’s weird, Eddie’s being just as weird as he is. 

“I love him,” he says aloud, reassuring himself that it’s fine. No one’s around to hear him; it makes Buck shiver anyway. 

[fastandcarlos]

Baby Sibling : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

Puzzled eyes looked to Max as your son refused to hold your hands as the two of you picked him up from school. It was routine for you both whenever Max was home, it had been since your son started school a little over a year ago, something you had done every single day together. 

Max shrugged back at you as his empty hand felt lost. His eyes glanced at your son who was a couple of steps ahead of you, scuffing his feet along the path. Neither of you quite knew what to say, it was unlike anything that you had ever seen from your son before.  

As you arrived home, your son immediately took himself into the living room where his toy box was. Max followed you into the kitchen as you took his bag to unpack and check for any letters or drawings. A huff came from Max as he took a seat, his head resting in his hands as he tried to piece together the pieces to figure out what was going on. 

“I don’t understand,” you sighed as you took a seat opposite Max. “His teacher didn’t say anything to make me think that something happened at school today.” 

“He was smiling until he saw us,” Max informed you. 

Your heart broke as you listened to Max, only to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering the room. Your son trudged in silently, picking up his water bottle that was on the side, turning his back to you both and drinking from it. 

“Evan, do you want to play a game?” Max offered, choosing one of his favourite things to do whenever his dad was home. “What about that board game you bought the other day?” 

Your son’s head shook as he took the bottle and headed back into the room. You both were sat in shock, mouths wide in disbelief at how distant Evan had suddenly become. 

“He’s quite sensitive, maybe he just needs a little bit of time,” you suggested, trying your best to reassure the two of you. 

“But we’re his parents, he should talk to us about anything,” Max despairingly sighed. 

Attempts were made by the two of you for most of the night but Evan gave you nothing. Whenever you struck up conversation you were met by short, snappy answers, or just the shake or nod of his head. 

As night arrived, Max was determined to unpick what was troubling your son, sitting down at the end of his bed after you’d tucked him in. You stayed in the room with them both, leaning against the doorframe and giving them both some space. There was a pause in the room once Max sat down, trying his best to figure out the right thing to say so that he didn’t worry Evan more. It took a moment, but eventually he cleared his throat. 

“Evan, you know if something, or someone, is upsetting you, mummy and I are here to help you, right?” Max asked him, keeping his eyes firmly on him. “We’re always here to help you, no matter what the problem is.” 

Evan nodded as Max spoke, shuffling slightly closer towards him. “I’m the only one at school who doesn’t have a brother or sister and people keep leaving me out of their conversations.” 

Max’s eyes flickered across to you to make sure that you were listening. “You’re feeling a little left out buddy? Are you saying that you want to have a little brother or sister?” 

Evan continued to nod back at Max, “I think it would be fun to have one.” 

A sigh of relief came from you, glad that it wasn’t anything worse that was troubling your son. It still upset you to know that he was being left out at school, but at least it was something that could be fixed. Most likely. 

“There’s a lot of reasons why people do, or don’t, have little brothers and sisters,” Max tried his best to explain to Evan. “It’s not always an easy thing for families to do.” 

“Is it tricky for you and mummy?” Evan enquired. 

Having another child was a subject that you and Max had barely even thought about. You were so busy, and Max’s schedule was insane, but with Evan nearing six, you didn’t want the gap between your children to be too big. 

“A little bit,” Max weakly smiled, not wanting to lie to your son. “Daddy works away a lot, don’t I? And mummy does a lot of caring for you, but hopefully one day it won’t be quite so difficult for us to potentially have a baby sibling for you buddy.” 

You weren’t entirely sure if Evan understood what Max was saying to him, but he nodded anyway. Max stood up and walked over to your son, pressing a relieved kiss to the top of his head as he began to say goodnight. 

“Can I do anything to help make it happen daddy?” Evan whimpered as Max stepped away from him, his hopeful eyes looking between you both. “If it’s tricky, then maybe I can help you and mummy.” 

“You just need to keep being awesome,” Max cheerfully told him, “that’s the only thing that me and mummy ever want from you, you’re already the best.” 

You went in to say goodnight to your son too before following Max out of the room. There was silence between you as you headed into your bedroom, both perching on your respective sides of the bed, giving yourselves a moment to debrief and take in the conversation that you’d just had. 

“Why do I feel guilty?” Max asked, breaking the silence. “It’s not up to anyone else but us when we have another child, but I hate that it’s leaving him feeling left out at school.” 

“Maybe it’s the shove that we need to do something about it,” you responded. 

Max’s body jumped, quickly turning to look at you. His smile was wide as he listened to you. “Are you saying you want to have another baby? I never thought you were keen on another with how much I’m away right now.” 

“I mean it would be tough,” you admitted, “but we’re not getting any younger, and I don’t want Evan being a single child forever. I think we’d be able to do it, it would be tough, but we’d smash it don’t you think?” 

“Absolutely, we’ve always been a great team,” Max reminded you, “and I can make sure that I’m home more often to help out too.” 

“Have we just agreed to a second baby right now?” 

“I think we might’ve done,” Max laughed, laying himself down and pulling you down with him. “Promise me that you’re not just saying this to please me, or to please Evan either.” 

“I promise, as long as you do as well.” 

Max nodded eagerly, leaning across and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your body turned inwards so that you were resting in Max’s side, feeling his arm wrap around you to keep you nice and close, exactly where he wanted you. 

“Do you think there’s any harm in getting a bit of practice in now? We might need it,” Max whispered. 

“I’d say there’s no time like the present.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[il-mostrc]

The unpacking began. Hannibal, upon taking his seat across from his patient, embarked on a careful observation of both the man's physique and the tacit language that flowed from it. Barton never appeared 'at ease' in his office, but he did showcase a languid deposition. They sat in silence for a few moments, while Barton's attention was sliding out the window, Hannibal's was transfixed on the wrapped forearm and the haunting rings of red etched within the depths of his patient’s eyes. While Hannibal never regarded the lives of those he killed as if they mattered, it appeared that Barton's viewpoint may have been drastically different. The words Barton would ultimately articulate hinted at truths that would dance elusively just beyond the reach of Hannibal’s keen perception.

With one leg elegantly draped over the other, Hannibal set his hands upon the notepad before him, a pen woven between his fingers, yet unanchored upon the surface of the parchment. He wanted to listen, to absorb and to study Barton as he explained himself. Narrowing his eyes, Hannibal scrutinized the allegories of grief that Barton intertwined with his memories of Tala, striving to decode the emotions woven into his expression. There was a displacement inherent in Barton's words, a dissonance he was trying to decipher.

“No, Barton. It is not the worst thing,” Hannibal interjected with a wry, half-cocked smile, the corners of his lips curling like a cat's playful ambush. “You spoke of seeing her ‘human again'." he let the words mingle in the air for a few seconds before continuing. "Was she not this way before?"

The moment before the kill. Often, victims repeated their names to their predators, to see them as not an object but a person. Had Tala employed such desperate tactics to elude her fate at Barton's hands?

A fleeting tongue slipped out to graze the bottom tier of his lip, a habitual gesture of contemplation. He considered the key points he would later revisit, driven by an irresistible urge to trace the roots of this man, to unearth the elements of his past that contributed to the turbulence of his present. It is often said that our histories sculpt the identity we present to the world; yet, in Hannibal’s cautious scrutiny, he recognized that such a notion did not universally apply.

Nothing had shaped who Hannibal was.

He was not the sum of his past, but rather a player on an empty stage, untouched by the script of human experience. He was simply Hannibal—a solitary anomaly in the vast theater of existence, or so he boldly claimed. It was perhaps the only unyielding facet of his character, a peculiar blend of arrogance and self-awareness.

Despite the psychological labyrinth they navigated, Barton exhibited no signs of retreating behind the impenetrable walls that some patients constructed in the face of vulnerability. There remained a flicker of possibility in their dialogue; Barton demonstrated a latent capacity to share, to peel back the layers.

as barton walked away from the scene, it took a surprising amount of his willpower not to look back at hannibal — to see and take in the kind of look he had on his face after his efforts proved to be 'triumphant' over the police's to keep him out of trouble. maybe doctor lecter had a faint smirk on his face, like the cat who caught the canary. or he had no expression at all. hannibal lecter seemed to be quite good at containing how he really felt about a situation and that was both intriguing, as well as dangerous. god's, would barton need a drink when he got home.

------------

perhaps seeing someone in hopes it would get him out of his own head the day after murdering someone was a bad idea, barton thought. but whenever an old flame of his named sloane came around — he suddenly lost all sense of reason. barton could still imagine how the gentle caress of her thumb felt across his knuckles, in fact, despite how it'd been at least eight hours since they'd seen each other. she always had a way of making him feel like he was the only man in the room with her that mattered when they were together. and that was exactly the problem.

barton only began to hear doctor lecter when he reached the word 'pleased,' giving the other a soft nod as a way to acknowledge the other. ❝ hello, doctor lecter. ❞ a small smile of his own appeared on his face in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment as he stepped inside hannibal's office. almost like some sort of haunted house, it seemed bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, barton thought. he had purposely dressed up a bit as he planned to see sloane again after this meeting: but one thing that the bountiful curls he'd arranged atop his head to be even more exaggerated, or that the nice sleeveless button down he wore couldn't hide was those deep red circles beneath his eyes.

plus, that large bandage on his forearm hadn't been there when he murdered tala, so it was new. barton in truth could hardly sleep over the past couple of days because he had encountered tala's brother at her gravesite, when he didn't even know she had a brother. and it might've been weird now to care about it but the fact that tala had kept that a secret made him think that maybe tala wasn't all who she said she was either. tala's brother also seemed very broken up about it, understandably, and so now he was stuck with plenty of unanswered questions that were keeping him up at night; as well as some guilt.

something that barton's adoptive father, winslow, seemed to have triggered in him. the doctor really didn't want to sit at that time. every atom in his body was telling him that he should've come up with some excuse to cancel his appointment today, like he thought before. because hannibal would likely pick and prod at his brain about things he didn't want to talk about but would be forced to because... well, it would be a waste to just sit there in silence for a whole hour. so barton sat down as requested, splaying out his legs to a comfortable distance. he rested both of his hands in the crevice made between them while clasping them together and looking out the window in hannibal's office. it was then that he noticed a european starling perched nearby, the illuminated feathers clearly giving it away.

their ability to mimic was very impressive, he remembered, and their capability to adapt to different environments was great. they were amazing animals, and suddenly, barton wished those very wings on their back were on his. but instead, like he was a passive force in his own life, he took a page from the starling's book and pretended like none of what they talked about bothered him. barton made a show of making several ticking sounds as if he was thinking hard about what to say, ❝ right... um, it figures that you would want to talk about that. what else is there to really say, though? my ex isn't really all that interesting. he just filled a void that i had inside of me for a while, that's all. then he gave me a scar that i can never get rid of, so i dumped his arse. pardon my language, ❞ barton cleared his throat as he revealed some information that was indicative that their relationship was more than just a 'bad' one.

giving people scars was in the realm of being abusive. but barton said this as it was nothing, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips, ❝ i met tala after that and, well, me and her connected instantly. and she seemed like a good person, so i continued dating her. but just a few days ago, she was killed, and it's like even though we didn't know each other for very long — i can't stop thinking about her for the life of me. ❞ he stated this in a low voice, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down at the floor. barton suddenly went silent as he deduced that he most likely knew how hannibal would react to a confession like this already. thus, there was no need for barton to look up at doctor lecter to see it.

❝ you know, i think i remember telling you once that i became a light sleeper as a kid because i had this abnormal fear of dying. but now that i'm looking back on it, i don't think it was that abnormal at all. i grew up around violence and so i was always on my guard when i was most vulnerable. though tala hadn't as far as i know. however, right before she died, she told me she was afraid... ❞ he looked up from the floor to stare straight into hannibal's eyes then. barton quickly held his breath, ❝ and then she was human again in my eyes, because i was always scared i'd be in the same position as her: killed by someone i was supposed to be able to trust. ❞ an incredulous, albeit clinical and somewhat amused all rolled into one, smile appeared across his lips. ❝ isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard? ❞

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

tornadoes aren't more important than you

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: pregnant!reader, married!reader, established relationship

“be careful, yeah?” you place your hands on tylers cheeks, tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

“i wish you could come with me.” tyler sighs, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours, his cowboy hat tipping upwards and off his head, clattering onto the hardwood.

“i know.” you miss it. the excitement, the fear, the anticipation of storm chasing. “but i don't think the baby would like me getting whipped around.”

tyler chuckles and presses his hands to your stomach, fully showing now that you've reached six months.

“im gonna be safe and im gonna be back home to you real soon.” tyler kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close.

“uh, not to interrupt-” 

“you are interrupting, boone.” tyler looks up at him as he stands in the open doorway, trucks filling the driveway.

“we were just finishing saying goodbye.” you raise to your tiptoes and give tyler one more peck. 

“i love you.” you whisper against your husbands lips.

“i love you, baby.”

“ew.” boones nose scrunches up, still somehow not used to seeing you kiss despite being married for a year now.

“you stay safe too boone.” you point at him, watching as they head out the door and pile in the trucks.

you wave goodbye to everyone, tyler getting in last as he tips his hat he grabbed off the floor towards you, a silent promise to come back home.

you sigh as you watch them pull away, hand stroking over your belly as the trucks disappear in a cloud of dirt. “it's okay.” you whisper to the baby, but it's mostly for yourself. “daddy will be back.”

--

“hey.” you answer the phone with a smile on your face. “i watched the live stream.”

“pretty fucking cool huh?” 

“pretty cool that you let boone drive the rig.” you chuckle, knowing tyler did that specifically for you, to show you that he can let others take the lead, let them be the one to drive into the tornado.

“how's my baby doing?” tyler asks, ignoring your teasing.

“which one?” you giggle, laying a hand on your stomach. “im good, baby is kicking a lot though.”

“put me on speaker.” tyler requests. you roll your eyes but still turn the volume up and hold the speaker up to your belly.

“it's daddy.” tylers voice is half strict and half high baby voice. “you better stop giving your mama grief when im not there to help her. behave for just a bit longer, buddy.”

“i hope he listens to you.” you shake your head, bringing the phone back up. “how's the storms looking for tomorrow?”

“tracking a couple cells.” tyler confirms. “im coming home friday no matter what they look like over the weekend.”

“mhm, sure.” you roll your eyes, although you don't doubt it. now that you're pregnant, tyler is even more protective over you. he knows you can handle anything, but that doesn't mean he's going to force you to do it all on your own.

“i will. already miss that pretty face baby.” his country twang is music to your ears as you hum out.

“i miss you too. miss kissing your lips.”

“you're killing me, sugar.” tyler groans. you hear dani shouting something in the background.

“i-”

“you gotta go. i know. love you.”

“love you more, darling.”

--

you have tylers livestream on in the background as you clean the house, feeling the urge to nest and get everything prepared before you're too pregnant to do anything, and tyler certainly wouldn't let you lift a finger when hes home.

you always dreamt of a beautiful old farmhouse like this all your life, but before you could move in tyler insisted on building a proper storm shelter to keep you safe.

you unpack some of the boxes of things you bought for the baby's room, sticking to yellows and oranges to keep everything brightly colored and cohesive, in contrast to the darkening sky.

you're not right in the path of tornados, but they have been known to swing up and hit the closest town every couple years.

you know the cloudy sky is just a result of all the activity further to the west where your husband currently is.

you look back to your phone, watching for a moment as his handsome face turns to look out the window. you can see the reflection of the twister in his eyes, a mix of awe struck and fear that any man within his right mind would feel.

“god-” you look up to the ceiling. you're not the biggest believer, but growing up in the south has you always reverting to whispering a prayer. “keep my husband safe.”

--

you let out a yawn as you adjust, not knowing for sure the sound that woke you up until you hear it again, your cellphone vibrating on the nightstand.

“hello?” your voice is groggy as you answer. you didn't bother to look at the contact name, there's only one person who would be calling you at this hour. “tyler?”

“baby, get to the storm shelter right now.”

“what?” the words have you instantly awake, hopping to your feet and looking out the window of your second story bedroom. “it looks fine.”

“im- just trust me! are you going?” you can hear the nerves in tyler's voice as well as the roaring of his truck no doubt speeding down the road.

“yes.” you confirm, grabbing one of tylers sweatshirts and slipping it over your head before finding a pair of shoes. “im going down the stairs right now.”

the second you step outside, you can feel the shift in the air.

“im tracking it on the data. we reported it but they said it's not on their maps as if our equipment isn't ten years newer.”

you listen to tylers rant as you round the house to pull open the storm shelter doors. it's not a glamorous area, small and tight but completely concrete and filled with a couple boxes of supplies.

“im in the shelter, ty.” you reassure him as you close the latch. “im safe. the babys safe.”

“it's building.” tyler says, no doubt looking at the radar or getting reports fed to him from boone. “im coming home to you, ill be there in two hours. fuck it, make it an hour and a half.”

“it's wednesday.” you state, although its just after midnight so technically thursday. “you said you weren't coming home until friday.”

“that was before a torando was gonna hit you. baby, i don't want you to go through this alone when you're pregnant.”

“ill be fine.” you reassure tyler. “but if you want to come back and make sure, you're more than welcome. like i said, i miss your lips.”

“gonna give you lots of kisses to make up for being gone.”

“i won't argue with that.” your phone beeps and you pull it away from your ear to realize you're losing service. “i think we are going to disconnect soon.”

“stay on as long as you possibly can.”

you try, but your phone beeps again and the call drops out.

sitting alone in the darkness heightens your other senses, feeling the cold air sneaking in through every available crack as your ears pick up the sound of the wind roaring.

you close your eyes and press your hands against your stomach, softly singing a nursery rhyme that your mother sung to you when you were a baby, your eyes sliding closed as you fall back asleep.

--

you're startled awake suddenly as the door rips open, only for tyler to quickly enter.

“is it over?” you ask, standing up and wobbling slightly. tyler grabs your hips, holding you up and looking at you up and down, his eyes examining you. you watch the stress and fear and anxiety melt away to be replaced with softness and love.

“it's over.” he confirms, tugging you in close. 

“the house?”

“a busted window and a downed tree blocking the driveway. that's all.” tyler presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent.

“wasn't bad then.” you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the warm embrace.

“no, but i got so fucking scared knowing you were here all alone.” tyler pulls away only to help you up the stairs, hating seeing you confined to the shelter even if it is to keep you safe.

“i just… i can't do this while you're pregnant. i can't leave you here, or anywhere, alone knowing something could happen to you.”

tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his youtube channel, going live and waiting for a couple users to join.

he holds the camera up so he can see himself and you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

“as you folks know, my lovely wife here is pregnant with our first child. as much as i love tornado wrangling, i love my girl more. for the next six months im going to be taking a step back, but don't unsubscribe, boone is taking over to keep the excitement coming.”

he doesn't even say goodbye, simply ending the livestream, knowing one of his followers surely recorded it to spread the news around.

“ty, you didn't have to do that.”

“yes, i did.” tyler bends down to lift you up, carrying you across the threshold of your house just like he did the day you got married. “im gonna be with you throughout everything. tornados aren't more important than you.”

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | March 10th-24th 2025

Work has just been.... a lot. Feels like the only thing getting me through the week is 9-1-1 Thursdays. Anyway. It's a long one cause you're getting two weeks. Bon appetit.

Complete

it has no name (no guarantee) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,1K | General):

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time. "Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?" (or: eddie calls, buck blurts some things out, they're totally normal best friends)

all my life, there you go Chapter 29. Sleeping in by trysetmeonfire (Post-S8E9: Sob Stories, Eddie Back From Texas | 1,2K | Mature):

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.” 

is it enough now by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,4K | Teen):

“I’m not in love with you,” Buck blurts out as soon as the ringing stops on the other end of the phone. There’s dead air on the other end of the line, but the kind that’s filled with background noise - a distant hum, some breathing sounds, just enough for Buck to know that Eddie heard him. buck finally calls eddie. he's still working through some stuff. he's kind of a disaster, honestly.

city lights, without you (they don’t even shine like they used to) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,5K | Teen):

“It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Maddie said, and she didn’t even sound surprised. Is this something she’s thought about before? Do his sister and his ex really think he’s secretly in love with Eddie? And if Maddie thinks so, does Chimney do, too? Fuck, does everyone think he’s pining after Eddie? ~ buck is not in love with eddie. definitely not.

I’ve pined for you my whole life (morning, noon, and night) by paleredheadinascifi (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,7K | Teen):

“Where did you do it?” Eddie asks in one quick breath. “Hmm?” Buck hums. “Sorry I - - I. Nevermind. Sorry. It’s none of my business,” Eddie croaks, and whatever that is in his voice is what finally clues Buck in. “Oh. Oh,” he gasps. “Where did I - - where did we sleep together?” Or, Buck calls Eddie after 8x11.

sanctioned departures by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8E10: Voices Coda | 1,9K | General):

Buck gets his sister back and loses his best friend in the same week.

a fool for you by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 2K | Mature):

“You did what?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding faint over the phone. Buck groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I moaned your name! I don’t know why man, I just– Tommy said a bunch of stuff after– after. And I can’t work any of it out, and I know this is probably weird but I really need my best friend right now.” -or- Buck accidentally moans Eddie's name after he bring Tommy back to his place- oops!

keep me by you by euadnes/ @kananjarus (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 2,5K | Teen):

"It's funny you say that," he says. His voice has gone so soft Buck thumbs the volume up, his heart in his throat. "My date tonight ended early because I too would not shut up about the amazing guy I apparently couldn't get over. And he didn't enjoy being used a rebound. Or at least that's how he put it." Buck didn't hear that right, right? He realizes his mouth has fallen open, a few seconds too late. He scarcely dares to breathe. "He -? Wait, you were on a date with a - a guy?" Eddie cocks his head, quirks his mouth. "That's the part of the conversation you're focusing on?"

Buddie Versus The Kiss Cam by explorerofworlds (Basketball Date, S8 | 3K | General):

Buck and Eddie take Tommy’s tickets and go to a basketball game together. While there, they end up on the kiss cam! Or the kiss cam fic.

I just want it to be you by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 4K | Mature):

Five times someone calls Eddie Diaz to talk about Buck and one time Eddie calls Buck instead.

realizations by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Are you okay?” On the ground, his phone screen was still lit, a call with Eddie displayed on the screen. Through the haze of panic, Buck was at least relieved that he hadn’t managed to start a video call. I think I’m in love with you. Oh God, I think I’m in love with you. “Yeah, I– everything’s good, I think I just– butt dialed you, or something.”

loose-tongued, in love by wenttoafortuneteller (Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Get home safe,” Buck says. Then, as always, he thinks: I love you. Eddie goes very, very still. His breathing stutters to a stop. There’s a strange expression on his face, his mouth twisting in that way it does when he doesn’t know what to say. Buck squints blearily at him. “What?” A muscle in his jaw twitches once. Twice. The muted light illuminates the quiet movement of his throat as he swallows. “What’d you just say?” “Get home safe,” Buck repeats, a yawn overtaking the last word. “Why…?” Or: the one where Buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to Eddie without realizing it.

24 Hours by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8E10: Voices, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated):

Chimney asks, "Who are you texting?" "Eddie." "Really? He's only been gone… what—? Two hours?" "Two hours and thirty-one minutes." "Not that anyone's counting." (Or, Buck and Eddie in the the first 24 hours after Eddie leaves.)

Coming for you by diazsdimples (Eddie Moves to Texas, PWP, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit):

The idea of Buck on his bed, in his house, wearing his shirt, while he touches himself really does something for Eddie. It makes the small, possessive beast that’s curled up inside his chest purr with contentment. The beast that shouldn’t really exist, because Buck isn’t really his. His phone pings again with another text from Buck. OR Eddie moves to Texas, Buck moves into his house, and neither of them really know how to handle it. Good thing phone sex solves all problems!

How to supreme an orange by paleredheadinascifi (Post-Chris coming home, Getting together | 5K | Teen):

"I don’t like oranges.” “Since when?” Eddie frowns. “You used to love oranges.” Christopher shrugs. “I don’t like them anymore.” And that’s fine, really. Tastes change. Christopher doesn’t have to like oranges. It’s just that he does. Christopher loves oranges. Christopher has loved oranges since the first time he tasted one, Eddie watching on over a shaky video call from the desert. Or, Eddie knows his kid, and his kid loves oranges. Buck knows both of them better than Eddie realized. He shows it in various citrus-based ways.

stay in the line, stay in the line by Elgney (S4E5: Buck Begins | 5K | General):

"The other firefighters were very kind. We got to hear a lot of stories about you. They seem to like you a great deal." Or: two missing conversations from Buck Begins.

Don’t Think About It Too Much, Too Much, Too Much, Too Much by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @fruitsdontknow (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, Chris Coming Home, Getting Together | 6K | Mature):

“My friend, my…. Eddie’s like that. He’s a single parent, too. Big worrier. He nests. Uh,” Buck dips his head down. “Loves his kid more than anything. That’s where he’s coming from, now. Picking up his son, Christopher.” “Your Diaz boys,” she clarifies, a warm look in her eyes, and Buck feels his cheeks heat up. “Yeah.” *** Eddie and Chris finally come back to Los Angeles. Buck has some realizations, and confessions, to make. Good thing Eddie's got some of his own to share, too.

softer, harder, in-between by mostardent/ @laracrofted (S8E9: Sob Stories, Jealous Eddie, PWP | 6K | Explicit):

“He was hitting on you!” “So? Who cares?” “I care. We’re married!” Buck blinks. And blinks and blinks and blinks. “Okay. Hold on. What?” One of Eddie's potential renters flirts with Buck, and Eddie is super normal about it and doesn't at all lose his mind over the idea of Buck dating the man who moves into his house.

I'll take your chaos and your crooked in a heartbeat by heartbeatdiaz/ @lonelychicago (Post-S8E10: Voices, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen):

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought before it can settle. Eddie isn’t dead. He’s in Texas, doing what’s best for Christopher. And Buck—Buck has to get over whatever this is. Swallowing hard, he moves to grab one of his own boxes, dragging it toward the hallway. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A single, forgotten cardboard box in the far corner of the living room. In big, black letters, written with marker, it reads: EDDIE — KEEP. It’s not one of his. He is sure of that. or: Eddie leaves a very important box behind and Buck spirals.

the things i wanna hear by stevesconverse (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Chim's Bachelor Party | 6K | Teen):

— or the one where Buck finds a video of him and Eddie making out at Chimney's bachelor party.

we get back to my house (your hands, my mouth) by weewooforever (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, PWP | 7K | Explicit):

Eddie finds out that Buck fucked Tommy in his house. His reaction to finding this out is perfectly normal.

I missed your skin when you were east by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit):

Maybe Buck had gotten used to people leaving. So much so that it didn’t affect him anymore. His life would keep going even if his best friend wasn’t there anymore. Eventually, he accepted that nothing would feel different. He signed the moving truck away and sat on the porch stairs, one almost warm beer in hand as he waited for Eddie to get home. When Eddie did, Buck almost felt like something was different about him, but then figured it was just his imagination. Buck left his half-drank beer on the porch of Eddie’s former house shortly after Eddie had left him the same way. Half-drunk. Unchanged. OR; Eddie leaves, and Buck's life stays the same. It's when he comes back that everything changes.

That’s what you do (when you love somebody) by scarmaddiewrites (Eddie Moves to Texas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen):

Buck can’t go home. He physically can’t, so he avoids it at all costs, until he doesn’t. Or The five times Buck avoids his house and the one time he never wants to leave

can you see what we are? (it’s all there written down) by kabnd/ @polkadotk804 (Canon, S2 onwards | 8K | General):

April 25, 2019 - Buck, genuinely distressed in the middle of the night in the bunkroom, presumably to Eddie (overheard by me, Chim): “Do you think that cat from the ‘hang in there’ poster is dead? Like how long do you think that little dude really hung in there?” Eddie, who I think was still mostly asleep: “At least he left a legacy.” OR: Maddie starts a shared note to document Buck and Eddie-isms…it gets just as unhinged at you’d imagine and tells their story from the perspective of the 118 & Co…and then Chris comes home!

smiling through it all by stevesconverse (Canon Divergent, S2E1: Under Pressure | 8K | Teen):

“So what’s your real name, then?” Eddie asks, sipping on his own drink—a whiskey he’s swirling around in the glass constantly. “Evan,” Buck says coyly, quickly adding, “But nobody really calls me that.” “Evan,” Eddie echoes, the sound dripping off his tongue like thick honey. “I like it.” It almost makes Buck regret to ever abandon it in the first place, driving a shiver down his spine. Almost. “And what’s Eddie short for? Eduardo?” he quickly shifts the conversation, stirring his drink and popping another peanut into his mouth. Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “Edmundo,” he corrects him, then winks at Buck with a low, “But nobody really calls me that.” or the one where Buck and Eddie have a one-night-stand two days before Eddie starts at the 118.

think i know where you belong by stevesconverse (Eddie&Chris Go Back To LA, Roommates, Accidental Kiss | 8K | Teen):

“Bye,” Eddie mumbles distantly, and when Buck finally manages to open his eyes again, Eddie is halfway out the door already. Puzzled, he just stands there, listens to the slam of the door and the starting of the truck outside, his mind spinning and his lips still tingling. Eddie has just kissed him. Actually kissed him, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world, like this was what they always do, a routine they follow, a dance they’ve learned. Except it’s none of that. 

meet me in the afterglow by literalmetaphor (Established Buddie, Hurt/Comfort | 9K | Explicit):

“We need a safe word,” Buck says. “You know, to make things as clear as possible.” “I feel like no works just fine,” Eddie says. Buck lets out a breath, because, sure, it probably will, but he needs assurance here. He needs something straightforward, simple, maybe something easier than Eddie telling him no. Maybe something easier than Eddie saying it’s too much. He’s never been great at that. “Just, humor me, okay? Communication is key with stuff like this.” Eddie’s laugh is soft, kind of incredulous, but he meets Buck’s eyes, and there’s a relenting fondness in them. “You think, what, you’re gonna be so good it’s gonna scramble my brain out of knowing how to say no?” An answering laugh tumbles out of Buck, peppered with the exasperation at the back of his throat. “I think this is new for you, and I think you should have options.” OR Eddie has to use the safe word.

love of my life, can't you see? by wenttoafortuneteller (S8E11 Spec, Crack | 10K | Teen):

“I asked Josh out,” Buck admits. It’s cartoonish how quickly Eddie’s jaw drops; how his eyes bulge out of his head. Buck rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, waiting for him to say something. There’s still silence. Buck frowns at his screen. “Eddie? Hello? I think you froze.” “I’m here,” Eddie says slowly, eyes still comically wide. “I just think I might have misheard you.” “Oh,” Buck says, and repeats himself. “I asked Josh out.” “Okay. So I didn’t mishear you.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I ask why?”  Or: Maddie nudges Buck towards Eddie, Buck misunderstands horribly, and Eddie suffers over FaceTime.

I can roll with all the punches (if you hold a couple back) by Elgney (Canon, S1-S2 | 13K | General):

“I need someone like you—someone who can keep up with him, and have his back, and maybe eventually even rein him in, should that be a thing that is humanly possible to do,” said Bobby, smiling warmly over the remaining half of his sandwich. “Oh, I see,” said Eddie. And he did now. That’s what Bobby’s whole hard sell was about—it wasn’t personal, it was about Eddie being the top of this class. “I know the type. You see guys a lot like that in the military.” “Oh, no,” said Bobby, “I didn’t mean to—well, what I mean is, I don’t think you have seen a lot of guys like Buck, to be honest. I don’t think there are a lot of people like him.” ----- Hen & Chim discussing the new probie; Buck's forgotten shield ceremony; Eddie's first shift with the 118. Or: three early impressions of Buck, through the eyes of his future found family.

hopeless, breathless, burning slow by mostardent/ @laracrofted (Post-S6E11: In Another Life | 14K | Mature):

He knows Eddie worries about him. Everyone does, but with Eddie, it’s not the same. He doesn’t look at Buck like he still has one foot in the grave. Eddie looks at him like he prayed for a miracle and God gave him Buck. In the pale blue-green light, Buck lifts his gaze mid-sentence and finds Eddie already looking at him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders down. He looks at ease, relaxed and peaceful, a fond smile on his face, coaxed from the corner of his mouth. One of his Christopher smiles, except Eddie’s gaze rests steadily on Buck, so maybe it’s a different kind of smile, one just for him. His dark eyes are warm and bright as afternoon sunshine, brimming with happiness, and it’s the most real Buck has felt in weeks. After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. (Or, Eddie hovers and Buck burns.)

listen for heaven by marviless/ @marviless (S8, Eddie Moves to Texas | Getting Together | 15K | Teen):

There’s a long pause before Buck answers. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “I felt alone for the first twenty something years of my life.” “What about now?” Eddie asks, and he’s not even quite sure what he means. What about now, right in this moment? or what about now, now that I’m gone? Buck chooses to answer the former. “I’m never lonely when I’m with you,” he says simply, softly. Eddie, Buck, and six phone calls.

Finding You by Sabs/ @memequeme (Soulmates AU, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 16K | Teen):

Eddie leaves for Texas on a Tuesday and Buck feels it in his heart before he even exits the airport. He starts to feel it in his body on a Thursday. Or: Soulbonds are rare, spontaneous bonds are practically unheard, but Buck and Eddie have always been anything but conventional.

🔥been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, S2 | 17K | Mature):

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later. — A story, in many ways, about holding hands

you're more than a heart can take by Elgney (Eddie Coming Out, First Date | 19K | Mature):

“Come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t consider sneaking into a storage closet with me?” “Obviously, I would!” Eddie was whisper-yelling now, and Buck wasn’t sure exactly what point he was trying to make, but he was enjoying every second of this. “But one of us is going to have to have restraint and it has to be the—the one with the most experience.” Buck felt his mouth drop open in delight. “Eddie,” he admonished. “Are you calling me a whore?” “No!” said Eddie, looking increasingly flustered. “I just mean—clearly you have the power to do—” he gestured at Buck, “that, so you have the—the responsibility to, like, use it. Responsibly.” “Did you just quote Spiderman?” Eddie propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, groaning dramatically. “I’m going to die. The first date, and I’m going to die.” “Been there, wouldn’t recommend it.” --- Buck and Eddie and the first date.

under pressure by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Established Buddie, First Time, PWP | 22K | Explicit):

“It’s not funny,” Eddie sighs, knocking the back of his head against the kitchen cabinet as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Oh, come on—it’s a—it’s a little funny,” Buck argues, amusement thick in his voice as Eddie feels his hand curl around his own wrist. Eddie takes a breath, and drops his wrist to rest over his own knee as he turns to meet Buck’s eyes, arching his own eyebrow in question. Or: Buck and Eddie have grand plans for their first time, it's just unfortunate that their bodies don't seem to be getting the message.

🔥 boy, we ain't got nothin' to lose by Elgney (Amnesia, Post-S7E5: You Don't Know Me | 26K | Teen):

“They just follow it around, copying it and helping it and bothering it so much that it's like, worn down into loving the duckling back and looking out for it.” “So,” said Eddie, furrowing his brow. “In this scenario, you are—” “A baby duckling, newly hatched into the world with no idea what’s going on.” “And I am—” “The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.” ---- Eddie has no idea how to cope when a temporary case of amnesia causes the return of Buck 1.0. Buck has no clue why his future self hasn't made the moves on his hot best friend. It all goes pretty well, considering.

🔥 Your Fake Name is Good Enough For Me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Changeling AU, Post-S8A | 37K | Mature):

When a younger man claiming to be Evan Buckley is apprehended by Pennsylvania police, Buck's past and present are thrown into question. Buck must work with Bobby and Athena to discover who he really is, and what that means for his family.

🔥paving hell with energy by Elgney (S8E9 Spec, Kidnapping, Getting Together | 52K | Not Rated):

Oh, fuck him, did he almost sleep with a serial killer? Distantly, he thought, Hen and Chim are never going to let me live this down. And then he thought, I might not live at all. ----- Buck is having a hard time dealing with Eddie's impending move to El Paso and resorts to some Buck 1.0-style coping mechanisms. Unfortunately for everybody, this backfires in spectacular fashion. Especially for Eddie, who waited until now to realize he was in love with his best friend. OR: Buck and Maddie get kidnapped. Eddie spirals.

Part 1 of not how the damage gets done

You tried to run (I tried to tie your shoes) by Elgney (Established Buddie, Fluff | 6K | General):

“Do I want to know what’s going on here?” Bobby asked. “Normal stuff,” Buck shouted from where he was, back on the couch. Eddie snorted down at his form, feeling fond and avoiding eye contact with Bobby, who must have stared down Chimney instead, because a second later he was fessing up. “We’re making them fill out their HR relationship forms separately, and then we’re going to compare them, Newlywed Game-style.” ---- Buck and Eddie fill out the LAFD's Consensual Relationship Agreement paperwork, Chim and Hen are over them already, and Bobby is just trying to make lunch and commit as few HR violations as possible.

Part 2 of not how the damage gets done

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 14? | 60K | Teen):

Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of menby euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 17/18 | 169K | Mature | Warning: Violence):

The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a cold world for such a long life by nuuma // fic by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 1-1.5h | Teen):

Eddie befriends Bobby's estranged older brother in a virtual support group for queer adults struggling to come out. The only problem? He has no idea that's who Charlie is.

🔥[Podfic] Even in Winter There is Eranthis by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit):

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 [Podfic] Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 5-6h | Explicit):

Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

[aliceinwonderpants]

More Operator meeting the Hex fluff.

Aoi

Aoi, while teaching then origami: So what kind of music you got in the future?

Operator, way too focused on getting that one fold right: A bunch of stuff. Like there's this space shanty I found while rescuing one of my frame.

Aoi: Space shanty? Like sea shanties, but in space?

Operator: I think so yes?

Aoi: Tell. Me. Everything.

Quincy

Operator, huffing: I cannot believe you organized a playdate for me.

Quincy: Come on kid, the little rats in the neighbourhood are dying to meet D's little sibling.

Operator, who totes learned how to skateboard so the vent kids would keep their home: Alright, fine.

They mostly stay on the sidelines and watch the other kids, but they have a good time.

Lettie

Lettie: Want to know about eldritch gods of the past?

Operator, inexplicably covered in rats: Only if I get to tell you about eldritch gods of the future.

Amir

Operator, looking over Amir's shoulder: Amir, what are you... is that frame fighters?!

Amir: Oh. It's just a little something I'm working on. It doesn't have a name yet, but it does have warframes fighting each other.

Operator: You made frame fighters! This is so cool!!

Amir: Screaming internally at being called cool.

Eleanor

Eleanor:

Operator:

Eleanor: Why can't I hear your thoughts?

Operator: No idea. Might be thousand years nap in the void. The grineer queen couldn't take over my body either.

Eleanor: We'll unpack that later. For now, come here, you're my nap buddy now.

The Hex have since taken many pictures of the two fast asleep and cuddling.

Arthur

Arthur: I've noticed you've been acting more like a kid since you first visit.

Operator, going stoic soldier mode: Do not worry. I doesn't affect my performance in the future. I can still pull my weight.

Arthur: Kid, no. That's not what I meant.

Operator, arms crossed and definitely not pouting: Plus, you guys never let me help out around her.

Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose: Kid. Drifter told us some of what you've been through. We don't want you on the front because despite everything, you are still a child and we are adults. It's our job to see to your well-being. From what I know from the future, a lot of people rely on you there, but here, we've got our Drifter with us. We can't do anything when you're over there, but as long as you're with us, in our time, please let us take care of things.

Operator: Fine.... Can we still go out to blow shit up this afternoon.

Arthur: Wouldn't dream of skipping out, kid.

[purposefully-lost]

Alex watched him as he spoke, his face turning a deep red. There was more than one moment where his lips parted, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but Andy just kept forging ahead. About how his boyfriends apparently left because of him, about that stupid argument with stupid Liam, about-- calling his name? He was starting to burn up and if Rabbit couldn't hear the rapid beat of his heart, it'd be a shock. Alex's eyes were glued to Andy, even as Rabbit sat up and hollered. His expression hovered on the edge of being shocked, like he couldn't quite process what was being said to him. He knew what he'd confessed to Rabbit earlier and what he'd planned to confess to Andy soon enough, but this..

Propping himself up on a elbow, his expression turned dark, his brows furrowing as he studied Andy's face. "You.. asshole," he started, locking onto his gaze. "You dick! Why didn't you just tell me to fuck off?" He asked. There was blood rushing in his ears. "You could've just- I- I dunno-"

He'd never wanted to fuck up Andy's chances at a good relationship. Well, not really. It was just that even if some of the guys Andy had been with hadn't seemed like assholes at first, they still weren't good enough. Not for him. Andy deserved a hell of a lot better than anything they;d ever offered him. He deserved someone who'd love him and love him deeply. Who'd love him no matter what, even if he stopped working out or gained weight or lost any of his social standing or tried to kill himself. He deserved better. That was why Rabbit, even with all his baggage, was good enough- Rabbit loved and did so with everything in his chest. And he loved them both, so there was no losing his friend to someone who'd steal all his time. People looked at Andy like he was the world, and he was, but that wasn't the response Alex got when he walked in a room. When they were together, Alex knew he was just getting pulled along for the ride, that he was secondary- he knew they'd take Andy and happily leave him behind, the best friend that'd only come about because circumstance had pushed them together. He only minded insofar as he wanted to be Andy's best friend for the rest of his life.

"You're a dick," he repeated, his voice hard. And then he was reaching out to tug him close, finally returning that kiss from earlier in the night. He was still pouting when he broke it to look over his face. "Liam was still a piece of shit, though. If your parents tolerated a guy, there was something wrong with him."

"Campbell!"

Andy peeked up from his food, beer, and paperwork with a wrinkle between his brows. His tired blue eyes met a pair of irritated browns, and immediately, he let them roll. Not Alan. Not now. The man was a pain in his ass and so were his kids. He'd gotten his girlfriend knocked up right out of graduation, and now his twins were on the baseball team. Good riddance; those two little chuckleheads were as bad as their father. Andy, unlike coach Wilson, didn't put up with it, and it made practice and games a yelling match between him and their piece of shit father.

"What's up, Alan?" He asked, pasting a polite smile on his cheeks as the man in question approached him. He was looking rough, like he'd thrown back a few too many drinks and was itching for a fight. Andy sighed. He didn't want to deal with that today, not after the bullshit with his mother he had to go through earlier.

"You quit? You quit on my kids?" Alan slurred, pointing a finger at him. "You're a bastard."

Glancing at the clock above the bar, Andy cocked a brow and frowned. "It's only three and you're fucking wasted, man. Why don't you go home?"

"Don't dodge! You fucking quit!" Alan shoved at his shoulder. "How the fuck are my kids supposed to compete? Get scholarships? We're counting on you!"

Andy furrowed his brow and shook his head. "They'll find another coach. I've got shit to take care of, and I'm not going to stick around just to babysit your snot-nosed brats." He said, his eyes starting to shine. "They're not my problem anymore, and frankly? Neither are you. Why don't you fuck off, Alan?"

Alan blinked before turning a very angry shade of red. Squeezing his fists at his sides, he only hesitated a second before grabbing Andy by the back of his jacket and throwing him on the floor of the bar. He dove down to throttle the man. He threw a punch and then another, the third being blocked by Andy's forearms. "You're a piece of shit, Campbell! You know what you mean to us!" He barked, shoving his hands away and swinging again. "You can't just quit!"

Andy rolled and threw one of his own. "It's my life!" He hissed, "I'm not being pushed around by you people anymore! Fuck you and your shitty kids!" Spitting the blood in his mouth at the man, he tried to scramble away only to get yanked back by the belt. Alan reached for the bar and grabbed the beer bottle Andy had been nursing. He smashed it against the floor and knocked him down again, just barely managed to slash him from his lip and up his cheek before he was being pulled off by the bar tender.

"Nowak! I told you last time if you started anything else, you're banned! Get out of here before I call the damn cops!" He hissed and shoved him towards the door. Watching him stumble out, he glanced down at Andy and helped get him up to his feet. "Fuck, he got you good. Want me to call the squad?"

Andy stumbled and touched his cheek only to hiss. His skin felt sticky with blood, and his fingers were warm and red when he pulled them away. Shaking his head, he let out a slow breath. "No. I'll be fine. Uh-... Sorry." He said softly. Pulling a few bills from his pocket, he handed them over before grabbing his things and slipping out, too.

By the time he got back to the apartment, his jacket was stained around the collar with blood. The side of his face and neck were sticky and red, and his body had taken on a slight tremble. He should've stopped at the ER, but he'd had enough of the public for today. He was sure he had some super glue to fix his face.

Rabbit peeked up from his spot on the couch next to Alex when he heard the door unlock and open. The smile that had pulled across his face immediately fell at the sight of Andy, his breath hitching in his chest. Setting the book in his lap aside, his eyes tracked him as he moved into the kitchen and started to dig around in the drawers. "...What happened to you?"

"Bar fight." Andy cursed and shoved the drawer closed. Moving to the next one, he shuffled around through the contents. After a second, he buckled and nearly sunk to the ground, just barely keeping himself up by holding onto the counter. "Come look for the superglue. I gotta.. I gotta sit down."

@purposefully-lost

[heartbreakfeelsogood-moved]

coffee run | buddie | ~1k | for @bark-barkley ♡

It starts with an Instagram post.

Buck’s a sap, okay? His explore page is constantly filled with ‘send this to your best friend’ posts, and you know what? Nine out of ten times he does send them to his best friend, even if said best friend doesn’t see his dms for about a week. Point being: it’s not surprising to see a post stating, “morning, because if it was a good morning, my best friend would be in the same city as me and we'd be getting coffee together.” Beneath the text is a sketch of two people holding iced coffees. Buck does not pout as he reposts it to his story; that’s just his face.

What is surprising is when Eddie likes Buck’s story upload within minutes, because Eddie barely uses Instagram. He goes on once, maybe twice a week when he’s bored. Eddie just moved to Texas, though, and is quite literally in the process of unpacking, so how could he be bored? Yet here he is in Buck’s notifications. Not only that, but he reposts it to his story, too.

The pout that was definitely not on Buck’s face turns into a small smile as he sees that. Buck knows what it feels like to be left and ignored, but this is the first and only time Buck is experiencing someone leaving and openly missing him. Buck misses Eddie like a lung, but that feels okay, because Eddie misses Buck, too. It’s a lot for Buck to wrap his head around.

Buck closes Instagram and opens his recent call log. Underneath the names of Maddie and a guy from C shift who was asking for coverage is Eddie. Buck presses call.

“You bringing me a coffee?” Eddie greets.

Buck huffs out a laugh and responds, “Might be cold by the time I get there.”

Eddie laughs a little louder than necessary, but Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t like that. He loves how easily he can make Eddie laugh. Even when everything feels bad, Buck can say something that makes Eddie laugh, and when Eddie laughs it makes Buck feel like everything will be alright.

“I could use a coffee right now, man. I’m losing stamina. That’s why I’m on my phone instead of unpacking,” Eddie pauses, and Buck hears a box move. “Living room: throw blankets,” he reads off.

Maybe it’s because Buck’s a well-established sap; maybe it’s because Buck would do anything to hang out with Eddie right now, even if it’s eight-hundred miles apart over the phone; maybe it’s because Buck really wants an iced cookie dough latte with oat milk and mocha sauce; maybe it’s all of the above that makes Buck say, “Let’s go get coffee together.”

Eddie laughs, and Buck can practically hear his eye roll when he quips, “Yeah, sure, I’m on my way now.”

“No, I’m serious. Well— I don’t mean it like that. I— I mean you should go get a coffee, you deserve a break, and I’ll go get one too. We could stay on the phone.”

Now that Buck’s said it he’s worried he sounds juvenile. He imagines this is what kids Christopher’s age do with their online friends. (Christopher has rules, and he’s come to Eddie or Buck any time something weird happens, so they trust that he’s safe.) All the fear melts off of him when Eddie responds though.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice sounds soft, “we could do that.”

They both drive about twenty minutes to get to their respective coffee shops. Mindless chatter fills their cars through the speakers as they make their way. Eddie tells Buck about a chess tournament Christopher is going to be playing in, which gets Buck going about some videos he watched to better understand chess. He tells Eddie about the history, the different strategies, and various records set by players. Eddie listens intently, always happy to learn about both what Buck is learning about and his son’s interests.

They’re still on the phone as they make their way into the cafes, when they’re standing in line, and when they each approach the counter. Buck’s line is shorter, so he orders first. He steps to the side to wait for his latte and checks in with Eddie.

“You about to order?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m next. Hey—“ Eddie pauses. For a quick second, Buck wonders if he got called up. “This might seem stupid, but this place has similar flavors to the one we go to back h— in LA. And I really want that iced latte you get me. If I make this call a FaceTime, will you order it for me?”

Something flips inside Buck’s stomach. His lips part pointing upwards and he has to stop himself from tearing up over the fact Eddie wants him to order him a coffee from eight-hundred miles away. Good tears, to be clear; emotional, but filled with love.

“Yeah, of course, Eddie.”

Their timing is perfect, because not even thirty seconds after the FaceTime connects Eddie is being called up to the counter. Buck is turned towards the barista, who looks rather confused by the whole interaction, so Buck makes a joke about how he got Eddie hooked on a very specific latte and orders a cinnamon latte with soy milk and a quad shot.

They both sit in the back corners of their respected cafes with their phones propped up on napkin holders, FaceTime still connected. Eddie takes a sip of his latte and hums.

“Thank you for ordering this for me. Think it’s exactly what I needed.”

Buck’s smile as he responds is all teeth. “Any time. I’m glad to be of service.”

Eddie laughs at the way Buck salutes as he says that. He leans his head on his hand as he looks back at Buck fondly through his screen.

“God, I love y— Hanging out with you.”

If Buck notices his fumble, he doesn’t say anything except: “Yeah. You too.”

[elryuse]

Seven minutes of heaven with your tomboy cousin Ryujin turns you from best friends to incestuous fuck buddies

Seven Minutes Of Heaven

Ryujin X Male Reader

Tags : Cousin-Love, Tomboy Ryujin, Sweet, Lovey-dovey, Lustful, Teasing, Lots of sex, Teens, Young and Free

Words : 6,868

Hope you guys liked it. More Requested Fics, On The Way.

You hadn’t been back here in years.

The train hissed as it pulled into the station, the countryside stretching endlessly behind it — all green and gold, the scent of pine trees and dry grass sneaking in through the open windows. Cicadas buzzed like they were trying to drown out your thoughts, and the heat pressed against your skin like a heavy blanket.

You grabbed your bag and stepped onto the platform, blinking against the sun.

And there she was. Leaning against a pole with a piece of candy in her mouth and an annoyed look on her face, Ryujin didn’t even wave. She just gave you that same look she used to give when you stole her last bite of ice cream as kids — equal parts unimpressed and vaguely amused.

“Yo.” Her voice was raspy, a little lower than you remembered, and filled with a casual confidence that hadn’t existed when you were both twelve.

You stared for a second. Ryujin had changed.

Her once bowl-cut hair was now shoulder-length and messy, tucked under a faded baseball cap turned backwards. A white tank top clung to her frame, loose and stained near the hem. Her jean shorts looked like they’d survived three wars. And her knees were bruised. Still as tomboy as ever.

And yet, there was something else now — something grown-up, something wild in her grin. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” you said.

She popped the candy out of her mouth with a click. “That’s ‘cause I got hotter.”

You snorted, shouldering your duffel. “Still annoying, I see.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “Still slow.”

And just like that, it was like nothing had changed. The walk back to the house was filled with awkward silences and the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

“You got taller,” she muttered, stealing glances at you.

“You got more violent,” you muttered back, rubbing your shoulder from where she hit you.

Ryujin laughed, loud and unfiltered, like she wasn’t trying to be polite. “What, did you expect me to run into your arms or something? Cry tears of joy?”

You shrugged. “I expected you to at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

“Dude, I am happy,” she said, grinning sideways at you. “I just don’t do the whole emotional ‘hug me, cousin I missed you!’ crap.”

“Clearly.” The sun beat down on your back as the familiar house came into view — the same wooden gate, the same rusted wind chime that made that off-key ting whenever the wind blew.

A part of you had been scared to come back. After everything. After growing up.

But Ryujin made it feel easier. Even if she was a chaos goblin in denim shorts.

You dumped your bag in the guest room. Same futon. Same tiny fan.

Your aunt and uncle were both still at work, so it was just you and Ryujin for the afternoon.

You hadn’t even finished unpacking when she barged in without knocking.

“Come on,” she said, arms crossed. “We’re going out.”

You blinked. “Going where?”

“Anywhere but here.” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t come all the way out here to sit around and sulk in a dusty room, did you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she was already halfway down the hall.

You sighed, grabbed your phone, and followed.

She took you to the lake. You remembered this place — vaguely. A giant reservoir hidden behind a mess of trees and tall reeds. Back when you were kids, your parents never let you swim in it. Too dangerous, they said. Too deep.

Now?

Ryujin stripped her tank top off like it was nothing, revealing a black sports bra beneath. She toed off her sneakers and stood barefoot in the grass, eyes bright.

“I swear to god, if you don’t jump in, I’m pushing you.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Neither did I.” She took a running start and cannonballed into the water with a scream.

You cursed under your breath — but something about the way she laughed, like the world couldn’t touch her, pulled you in.

The water was cold and sharp and perfect.

You surfaced beside her, blinking water from your eyes, and she immediately splashed you in the face.

“Ryujin!”

“Come on, loser! Fight me!”. And you did. You wrestled in the water like kids again, laughing until your sides ached. Until you were both floating side by side, the sky spinning above you.

Ryujin let out a sigh. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

You looked at her, water in her lashes, a soft smile on her lips.

“…Yeah. You were right.”

That night, you both lay on the roof, eating watermelon and pointing at stars.

“I thought you’d be boring,” Ryujin said, mouth full.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”

“It is. Boring guys make the best straight men for chaos.”

“You planned this, huh?”

She grinned. “Hell yeah I did.”

A silence settled between you — not uncomfortable, just familiar. Easy.

You glanced at her. “You’ve really grown up.”

Ryujin didn’t look at you.

“You haven’t,” she said. “Still soft. Still kind. Still trying to keep up.”

You smiled faintly. “Is that a bad thing?”

She turned her head then, just a little. Her voice was quieter when she answered. “No. It’s not.”

And under the stars, with the scent of watermelon and the cicadas screaming into the night, you felt something shift.

Something small.

But undeniable.

You wake up to a text from Ryujin.

7:03 AM wake up, slowpoke. we’re racing today. 🏁🚲💨

Your eyes squint at the screen. You’d stayed up until nearly 2 AM last night after stargazing, barely speaking but not wanting to go inside either. It was… nice. Peaceful.

This, however? This was war.

You step out into the hallway and immediately get hit by something soft — a rolled-up pair of socks smacks you right in the face.

“What the hell—”

Ryujin grins from the end of the hall, one foot planted on the wall behind her like she’s modeling for a 90s skate brand. “You looked too comfortable. Thought I’d fix that.”

You throw the socks back at her. She ducks.

“You said we’re racing?” you ask, brushing your teeth while she leans against the doorframe.

“Yeah. Bikes. Old route. You remember the one behind the rice fields?”

Your brain flashes to a dirt path cutting through green, sharp turns, dragonflies darting like missiles. “Barely.”

“Perfect,” she says, already slipping on fingerless gloves and tying her hair up. “No excuses when I destroy you.”

You end up on your uncle’s dusty old mountain bike, and Ryujin’s already two blocks ahead by the time you start pedaling.

“You absolute demon!” you shout.

She cackles over her shoulder, long legs pumping, wild hair flying out from under her cap. “You snooze, you lose!”

She cuts between trees like a local. You try to keep up, but she’s always just a little ahead. You catch glimpses of her through branches — the flex of her back muscles, her voice echoing through the woods.

It’s like she belongs to the chaos.

Eventually, you both stop at the top of the old hill overlooking the river.

She hops off, panting, and plops down in the grass.

“Told you I’d win.”

You collapse beside her. “That wasn’t a race. That was attempted murder.”

“Same thing, really.”

You’re sweating. She’s glowing.

You steal a glance at her — sun on her face, lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Her sports bra clings to her skin, and you look away fast, heartbeat doing weird gymnastics.

“Hey,” she says suddenly.

You turn.

She grins. “You were looking at my chest just now, weren’t you?”

You sputter. “N-No!”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” she teases, leaning closer. “Just surprising. Didn’t think you had the guts.”

You nearly fall backward. She just laughs.

God, she’s trouble.

That afternoon, Ryujin drags you to the local store.

You haven’t been there in ages, but it smells the same — dusty wood, candy wrappers, and sun-warmed soda.

“Two mango sodas and those shrimp chips,” she says, tossing everything on the counter. “He’s paying.”

“Wait, what—?”

She elbows you. You shut up and pay.

On the walk back, she tears open the chips with her teeth and sticks one between your lips.

You blink at her. “I can feed myself.”

She shrugs. “I’m spoiling you. Don’t get used to it.”

That night, Ryujin barges into your room with a flashlight.

“Come on,” she says, tossing you a hoodie. “Bonfire time.”

Outside, near the riverbank, she’s already stacked twigs and paper and broken-up boxes. You help her light it.

She hands you a bottle of cheap cola. Sits close.

Too close.

The fire crackles. Her eyes shimmer orange in the glow.

“You remember that time we both fell into the koi pond?” she asks out of nowhere.

You smile. “You pushed me.”

“You pushed me first.”

“Yeah, because you cut my hair in my sleep!”

She laughs, full and loud. “It was a prank! You looked great.”

You shake your head. “You were a menace.”

“I am a menace.”

She falls silent for a beat. Then:

“But you never got mad. Not really.”

You look at her. Her expression is unreadable, the flames dancing in her eyes.

“You just… stayed.”

After the fire dies down, you lie on your backs in the grass. It’s cold. You can feel her elbow barely brushing yours.

“Truth or dare?” she whispers.

You snort. “Seriously? How old are we?”

“Pick.”

“…Truth.”

She turns to face you. “Do you like anyone right now?”

You freeze.

There’s a long pause. Then:

“…Maybe.”

She smirks. “Ooh, city boy’s got secrets.”

“Your turn.”

“Truth.”

“Same question.”

She turns away from you, staring at the stars.

Her voice is soft. “Yeah.”

You hold your breath.

She doesn’t elaborate.

Neither do you.

The next day is different.

The air feels heavier. The sky is clouded, and Ryujin’s unusually quiet. She doesn’t poke fun at your sleepy face. Doesn’t make you race her again. Just walks beside you, hands in her pockets, eyes somewhere else.

Eventually, you sit together on the porch, the sky threatening rain.

“You okay?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Just thinking.”

“You? Thinking? Must be serious.”

She laughs, but it’s a little hollow. “You ever feel like… the older you get, the more fake everything feels?”

You look at her.

She continues, “Like we’re all pretending. Pretending to be okay, pretending we know what we’re doing.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I feel that.”

She looks at you then — really looks.

“…But when I’m with you, I don’t have to pretend.”

The wind shifts. The first raindrops fall.

And for a second, you want to say something.

But she’s already standing.

“Race you to the shed,” she says, taking off.

You chase her.

Because that’s what you’ve always done.

Inside the tiny garden shed, both of you soaked, she tosses you a towel.

You dry your hair, heart pounding.

She sits on the bench, knees pulled up, watching the storm rage outside.

It’s quiet.

Then she says, “I liked you. Back then.”

You freeze.

She doesn’t look at you. “I don’t know if it was a cousin thing, or just because we were always together. But I liked you. Like, liked liked you.”

“…Ryujin.”

She finally turns.

And smiles — not her usual smug one, but something smaller. Sadder.

“I don’t think it ever went away.”

You don’t answer.

Not yet.

Because you don’t trust your voice.

Instead, you sit beside her, the rain thundering above you.

And she leans her head against your shoulder.

Just like that.

No teasing.

No jokes.

Just closeness.

And maybe — just maybe — you feel the same way.

Summer keeps going.

Days blend into nights, and the air grows thicker with each passing sunset. You fall into a rhythm with Ryujin — a rhythm of late-night bike rides, lazy mornings, watermelon slices, and quiet little wars in the form of teasing remarks.

But something’s changed.

You feel it in the way her eyes linger a second too long when you’re laughing. In the way she’ll shove you, but then her fingers curl around your wrist just to hold it there a moment longer. In how her silence now feels heavier — more charged — like there’s something always on the tip of her tongue.

And maybe you're the same.

Maybe you’ve started watching her too closely. Memorizing the lines of her smirk, the freckles on her shoulders, the way she throws her head back when she laughs like she doesn’t owe the world anything.

Maybe you’re starting to fall.

No — not starting.

You already are.

It happens on the third Thursday since you got here.

You’re helping Ryujin patch a flat tire on her bike, grease staining your fingers. She's crouched beside you, hair tied up in a haphazard bun, an ice pop dangling from her lips like some sort of bribe.

"You know," she says casually, "I don’t hate having you here."

You glance up at her.

She’s not looking at you. Just focused on the tire.

"That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week," you joke.

She shrugs. "Don’t get used to it."

But her voice is soft. The kind of soft she only uses when she means something and doesn’t want you to know she means it.

You hand her the wrench.

She takes it — and her fingers brush yours.

And she doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

That night, there’s a fireworks festival in town.

Ryujin shows up at your room in denim overalls and a sleeveless black crop top, holding two cans of soda like it’s no big deal. Her hair’s still a mess. Her nails are chipped. Her lips are cherry red from the popsicle she had earlier.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“You gonna keep staring, or are we leaving?” she says.

You don’t answer. You just walk beside her.

The festival is all noise and color — lanterns strung between trees, kids running barefoot, the smell of grilled squid and sweet syrup hanging in the air.

You and Ryujin sit on the hill above the main square, legs stretched out, shoulders almost — almost — touching.

The first firework explodes overhead.

Ryujin tilts her head back, lips parted in wonder.

You should say something. You should tell her.

Instead, you ask, “What’s your biggest fear?”

She blinks. Then laughs. “What kind of firework-date-question is that?”

“Come on,” you nudge her. “Humor me.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

Then: “I’m scared I’ll lose the people who make me feel real.”

You glance at her.

She’s not watching the sky anymore.

She’s watching you.

Later that night, you’re walking back.

The fireworks are over. The town’s lights are dim. The cicadas have returned in full force.

Ryujin reaches out and loops her pinky through yours.

She doesn’t look at you when she does it. Just keeps walking like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Your heart nearly stops.

The air between you and Ryujin feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. Her pinky is still looped through yours, a small but undeniable connection. You don’t pull away. Neither does she. The cicadas hum in the background, their rhythm steady, almost hypnotic. The night wraps around you both, heavy and warm, and for once, there’s no teasing, no sarcasm, no chaos. Just this.

Just Ryujin.

You glance at her. Her profile is sharp in the moonlight, her jawline softened by the faintest curve of her lips. She’s not looking at you, but you can feel the weight of her presence, the way she seems to anchor the entire world around you. It’s unnerving. It’s exhilarating.

“You’re quiet,” she says suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That’s new.”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Just… thinking.”

She laughs, a low, raspy sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Dangerous.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, your voice steadier than you feel. “You’re the one who started this.”

Her grin falters for a split second, and she finally turns to look at you. Her eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something in them—something raw, something vulnerable—that makes your chest tighten.

“Maybe I did,” she says quietly. “But you’re the one who’s still here.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know if you can say anything. All you know is that Ryujin’s hand is still linked with yours, and for some reason, that feels like the most important thing in the world.

She breaks the silence first, her voice lighter now, but not quite careless. “Race you back?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

She smirks, the familiar mischievous glint back in her eyes. “You heard me. Last one to the house is a rotten egg.”

Before you can respond, she’s already taken off, her laughter trailing behind her like a challenge. You stare after her for a moment, stunned, before snapping out of it and sprinting to catch up.

She’s fast—faster than you remember—but you’re not about to let her win. Not tonight. Not when it feels like everything’s on the line.

You’re both breathless by the time you reach the house, Ryujin collapsing onto the porch with a triumphant laugh. “Told you I’d win.”

You lean against the railing, trying to catch your breath. “You cheated.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “All’s fair in love and war, right?”

You don’t miss the way her voice hesitates on the word love, the way her eyes flicker to yours for just a second before looking away. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And it’s enough to make your heart race all over again.

She stands, brushing herself off, and heads inside without another word. You follow, your mind still spinning, still trying to make sense of everything that’s happened tonight.

But when you step into the living room, Ryujin’s already there, leaning against the couch with that same unreadable expression on her face. She doesn’t say anything, just watches you, her eyes dark and intense.

You stop, feeling like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. “What?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a step closer, then another, until she’s standing right in front of you. Her presence is overwhelming, her warmth seeping into your skin, her scent—citrus and something wild, something uniquely Ryujin—filling your lungs.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest as she tilts her head slightly, studying you like you’re a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“You’re different,” she says finally, her voice soft but firm. “Why?”

You swallow, your throat dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She raises an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yes, you do.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, you do know. You’ve always known. And now, standing here, with Ryujin so close you can feel her breath on your skin, it’s impossible to ignore.

She reaches up, her fingers brushing against your cheek, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. Her touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body.

“Tell me,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You open your eyes, meeting her gaze, and for the first time, you don’t hold back. “I’m thinking about you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes soften, her smile fading into something more serious, more intense. And then, without warning, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s both tentative and undeniable.

Your breath hitches, your hands instinctively finding her waist as she deepens the kiss, her fingers tangling in your hair. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, it’s everything Ryujin is—and it’s perfect.

When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to pull away, to laugh it off like it’s just another one of her pranks.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she smiles—a real, genuine smile—and says, “About time.”

You laugh, a little breathless, a little dazed. “You’re impossible.”

She grins, her usual mischief back in full force. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

And the thing is, she’s right. You do. You always have.

But before you can say anything, she’s already pulling away, her hand slipping into yours as she tugs you toward the stairs. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

She looks back at you, her grin widening. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, the chaos begins again—but this time, you’re ready for it.

Ryujin stops abruptly at the foot of the stairs, her fingers tightening around yours. She turns, her gaze locking with yours, and there’s a flicker of mischief that makes your stomach twist. “Actually,” she says, her voice low and teasing, “let’s go this way instead.”

Before you can even process her words, she’s pulling you toward the kitchen. The house is silent except for the sound of your footsteps and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your heart pounds as she leads you into the dimly lit room, her grip firm, almost possessive.

She stops in front of the counter, her back to the sink, and turns to face you. Her eyes are dark, intense, and they never leave yours as she steps closer—so close you can feel the heat of her body against yours. You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat, as she presses you back against the counter.

“Ryujin…” you start, but she silences you with a finger on your lips.

“Shh,” she whispers, leaning in until her lips brush against your ear. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Her hands slide down your chest, slow and deliberate, and you shiver under her touch. She smells like summer—like sunscreen and sweat and something sweet, something distinctly her. Your hands find her waist almost instinctively, anchoring yourself as she tilts her head, her lips grazing the side of your neck.

“Do what?” you manage to ask, though your voice comes out hoarse, barely audible.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, her lips curling into that familiar smirk. “This.”

And then she’s moving, stepping away just long enough to reach into the pantry. She pulls out a jar of honey, holding it up like it’s some kind of prize. Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you can ask, she’s already unscrewing the lid.

“Ryujin,” you say again, your voice trembling. “What are you—?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she drizzles a thin line of honey down your chest, starting just below your collarbone and letting it trail down to your stomach. The sensation is cold at first, sticky and strange, but then she sets the jar aside and leans in, her tongue following the trail.

You groan, your head falling back against the cabinet behind you as her lips and tongue move over your skin, warm and wet and electric. She takes her time, savoring every inch, her hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. Every stroke feels like fire, lighting up every nerve in your body.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your fingers tangling in her hair as she works her way down. Her tongue flicks over a sensitive spot just above your navel, and you jerk involuntarily, your hips pressing forward.

She chuckles against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “You like that, huh?”

“You’re such a menace,” you mutter, though your voice is shaky, and you’re pretty sure you’re not fooling anyone.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And yet, you’re not stopping me.”

You don’t have a response for that—mostly because you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe. She smirks, clearly pleased with herself, and then she’s back at it, her tongue tracing patterns on your skin that leave you gasping.

“Ryujin,” you manage to say, your voice strained. “This is—”

“What?” she interrupts, looking up at you with those dark, teasing eyes. “Too much?”

You shake your head, your hands tightening in her hair. “No. Just… not enough.”

Her grin widens, and she shifts closer, her body pressing against yours as she licks the last traces of honey from your skin. “Good.”

She leans in then, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s soft and slow and utterly maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, sticky from the honey, and you can’t help but groan as she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours.

You’re not sure how long it lasts—seconds, minutes, hours—but when she finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly. She looks at you with a mix of satisfaction and something else—something deeper, something that makes your heart race even faster.

“You taste sweet,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You laugh, though it’s shaky and uneven. “That’s the honey.”

She shakes her head, her smile softening. “No. It’s you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. Instead, you pull her back in, your lips crashing against hers in a kiss that’s hungry and desperate and filled with all the things you’ve both been too afraid to say.

Her hands slide down your back, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head before tossing it aside. Her own tank top follows, leaving her in just her sports bra, and you groan at the sight of her skin—smooth and golden and perfect.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your hands skating over her sides, feeling the warmth of her beneath your fingertips.

She smirks, her hands sliding up your chest again. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You laugh, but it’s cut short as she pushes you back against the counter again, her lips finding your neck as her hands explore your body. You’re helpless against her touch, your hips pressing forward as she grinds against you, her breath hot against your skin.

“Ryujin,” you gasp, your hands gripping her waist tightly. “We can’t—someone might—”

“No one’s home,” she interrupts, her voice low and filled with promise. “It’s just us.”

And just like that, any lingering hesitation evaporates. You kiss her again, hard and deep, your hands roaming over her body as she does the same to you. The kitchen falls away, the world narrows to just the two of you, and for once, everything feels right.

She pulls back just long enough to grab the jar of honey again, and this time, she drizzles it down her own chest, her eyes never leaving yours. “Your turn,” she whispers, her voice dripping with challenge.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You don’t hesitate. Your lips crash into hers with a hunger that surprises even you. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as your tongues dance in a fiery rhythm. The taste of honey on her lips is intoxicating, sweet and sticky, and you can’t get enough.

Your hands move on their own, sliding down her back, feeling the heat of her skin beneath your fingertips. She arches into you, her body pressing against yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. You grip her hips, lifting her onto the counter with a strength you didn’t know you had. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, pulling you closer, and you can feel the urgency in the way she clings to you.

She moans softly into your mouth, a sound that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Your hands roam her body, exploring every curve, every dip, committing her to memory. Her nails dig into your back, sharp and possessive, and you groan against her lips, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you wild.

You grind against her, the friction between your bodies sending waves of heat through you both. She whimpers, her head falling back as you trail kisses down her neck. Your teeth nip at her collarbone, and she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair. “More,” she breathes, her voice a desperate plea.

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands move to her chest, fumbling with the clasp of her sports bra. It comes undone with a soft click, and she shimmies out of it, her breasts spilling free. You take a moment to admire her, the way her chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way her nipples harden under your gaze.

Leaning down, you take one nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as she gasps and arches her back. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails leaving faint crescent marks as you give her the attention she craves. You switch to the other nipple, your teeth grazing it gently, and she lets out a low moan that vibrates through your entire body.

“God, you’re—” she starts, but her words dissolve into a whimper as your hands slide down her sides, settling on her hips. You grip her tightly, pulling her closer as you continue to work her with your mouth.

Her legs tighten around your waist, and you can feel how much she wants you, how much she needs you. It’s intoxicating, the way she responds to you, the way she melts under your touch. You’ve never felt this kind of connection before, this kind of raw, unfiltered desire.

You pull back just enough to meet her eyes, her lips swollen from your kisses, her hair a wild mess around her face. “Ryujin,” you murmur, your voice rough with need.

She looks at you, her eyes dark with want, and smiles that mischievous smile that always drives you crazy. “What? Got something to say, city boy?” she teases, her voice a little breathless.

You smirk, your hands moving to the waistband of her shorts. “Just wondering how much trouble I’m about to get into.”

She laughs, low and throaty, and pulls you back in for another kiss. “You have no idea,” she murmurs against your lips.

You undo the button of her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear. She kicks them off, and suddenly, she’s completely bare before you, her skin glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. You step back for a moment, just to take her in, and she raises an eyebrow at you. “Like what you see?” she asks, her voice laced with amusement.

“You’re perfect,” you say, your voice hoarse with emotion. And you mean it. Every inch of her is perfection, from the way her hair falls over her shoulders to the way her chest rises and falls with each breath.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Enough staring. Get over here.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You step back between her legs, your hands on her hips, and she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for another searing kiss. Her legs tighten around you, pulling you closer, and you can feel how wet she is, how ready for you.

You reach down between your bodies, guiding yourself to her entrance, and she gasps as you press against her. “Ryujin,” you murmur, your voice thick with need.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. “I’m ready,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly.

You push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust, and she lets out a soft moan, her nails digging into your back. She’s so tight, so warm, and it takes every ounce of self-control you have to keep from losing yourself in her completely.

“You feel amazing,” you murmur, your voice rough with need.

She laughs softly, her breath hitching as you start to move. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teases, her voice a little shaky.

You start to move, slow and steady at first, letting her get used to the sensation. But then she digs her nails into your back, and the sound she makes is enough to make you lose control. You start to thrust harder, deeper, and she moans, her head falling back as she arches into you.

Her hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you as you move together. Her fingers trace the muscles of your back, your shoulders, your chest, and every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Faster,” she breathes, her voice filled with need, and you oblige, picking up the pace. Her legs tighten around you, pulling you deeper, and she lets out a low moan that sends a shiver down your spine.

You can feel the tension building in her body, the way she clenches around you, and it drives you wild. You grip her hips tightly, pulling her closer as you thrust into her, and she lets out a cry, her nails digging into your shoulders.

“I’m close,” she gasps, her voice trembling with need.

You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as you drive into her, the sound of your bodies coming together filling the kitchen. She moans into your mouth, her body trembling as she reaches her peak, and you follow her over the edge, the force of your release leaving you both breathless.

You stay like that for a moment, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high. She smiles up at you, her eyes soft and filled with something you can’t quite place.

“So…” she says, her voice teasing, “was that worth the wait?”

You laugh, pulling her closer. “Absolutely.”

She grins, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh yeah? What’s next, then?”

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s just say… you’re about to find out.”

And just like that, you’re pulled back into the chaos, the heat, the endless, breathless spiral of her. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her fingers tighten around your wrist as she pulls you down the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan in the kitchen, still spinning from your earlier escapade. Ryujin glances over her shoulder, her hair falling in a messy cascade, her lips curving into that familiar, mischievous grin.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, your voice low, still catching your breath.

“You’ll see,” she says, dragging you toward her bedroom. The door creaks open, and she shoves you inside, following closely and shutting it behind her with a soft click.

Her room is exactly how you remember it — chaotic in the most Ryujin way possible. Clothes are strewn across the floor, a skateboard leans against the wall, and posters of bands you’ve never heard of cover the walls. The scent of her — something sweet and wild, like strawberries and pine — fills the air.

She turns to face you, her eyes dark and playful. “You’ve been holding out on me, cousin.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How so?”

She steps closer, her hands sliding up your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine. “You’ve been acting all innocent, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing back in the kitchen. But I know you. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Maybe.”

She laughs, soft and low, and presses herself against you. “Good. Because so have I.”

Her lips find yours again, eager and demanding, and you sink into the kiss, your hands tangling in her hair. She tugs at your lower lip with her teeth, pulling a soft groan from you, and then she’s pushing you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of her bed.

“Sit,” she commands, her voice thick with desire.

You obey, your heart pounding as she straddles your lap, her thighs pressing against your hips. She leans in, her breath warm against your neck, and whispers, “You’re mine now.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A claim. And you don’t argue.

Her hands roam over your chest, her touch feather-light but electric, and you can’t help but shudder under her. She kisses you again, deep and slow, her tongue teasing yours, and you lose yourself in the taste of her, in the heat of her body against yours.

“Ryujin,” you murmur against her lips, your hands gripping her hips.

“What?” she whispers back, her voice teasing.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

She smirks, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. That’s the point.”

Before you can respond, she’s sliding off your lap and standing in front of you, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She wiggles out of them slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on yours, and then she’s standing there in nothing but her sports bra, her skin glowing in the dim light of the room.

You stare, unable to look away, your breath hitching in your throat.

She grins, her hands on her hips. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you say, your voice rough.

She steps closer, her hands sliding up your chest again, and then she’s tugging at your shirt. “Fair’s fair, cousin.”

You pull it off, tossing it to the side, and she lets out a low whistle, her fingers tracing the lines of your abs. “Damn. You’ve been working out, huh?”

You smirk. “You’ve noticed.”

She laughs, shaking her head, and then she’s pushing you back onto the bed, climbing over you until she’s sitting on your hips. Her hands brace on your chest, and she leans down, her lips brushing against yours. “You’re not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

You groan, your hands sliding up her thighs. “Promises, promises.”

She kisses you again, hard and hungry, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over her body, memorizing every curve, every dip. She pulls back, her breathing heavy, and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, and you’re left staring at her, your chest tight with want.

“Ryujin,” you say, her name a prayer on your lips.

She smiles, slow and wicked, and then she’s leaning down, her lips trailing down your chest, your stomach, until she reaches the waistband of your pants. Her fingers undo the button, the zipper, and then she’s pulling them off, leaving you bare before her.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “You ready?”

You nod, unable to speak, and she grins, her hands sliding up your thighs. “Good.”

Her touch is electric, and when her lips wrap around you, you swear you see stars. Your hands tangle in her hair, your hips bucking against her, and she hums in approval, her tongue teasing you in ways that make you forget your own name.

“Ryujin,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed.

She pulls back, her lips slick, and grins up at you. “Not yet.”

Before you can protest, she’s climbing back up your body, her lips finding yours again, and then she’s guiding you inside her, her breath hitching as she sinks down onto you. She moans, her head falling back, and you grip her hips, helping her move, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

“You feel so good,” she whispers, her hands braced on your chest.

“You’re incredible,” you say, your voice strained.

She picks up the pace, her movements becoming more desperate, more urgent, and you meet her thrust for thrust, your hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer, deeper. Her nails dig into your chest, and you groan, the sensation only driving you wilder.

“Close,” she gasps, her voice trembling.

“Me too,” you say, your grip on her hips tightening.

She cries out, her body tightening around you, and you follow her over the edge, the world shattering around you as you both collapse into each other, breathless and spent.

Her head falls against your chest, her breathing ragged, and you wrap your arms around her, holding her close.

“That was…” she starts, her voice muffled against your skin.

“Amazing,” you finish for her.

She laughs, soft and sleepy, and presses a kiss to your chest. “Yeah. Amazing.”

You both lie there, tangled together, the room hushed except for the sound of your breathing. After a moment, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow,” she says again, her grin returning.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Worth it.”

She leans in, her lips brushing against yours. “Good. Because we’re not done yet.”