#mild firefight

[spacedoutman]

【𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 | 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙪】

(𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩)

Description: The world crumbled but their love stayed intact. Caught in a firefight over food, Paul's been shot. Does Ace have any hope of pulling him through or pulling through this at all?

♥ Paul Stanley x Ace Frehley

Note: The fuck? I actually have to copy these little formats from each of my fics and something stuck from Pygmalion I thought I fixed. I KNEW something was off sksk (it was also super late when I did this haha))

Warnings: Blood/Grief/Death

𝙖𝙤3

Paul slammed against the wall. The ground thundered like a volcano about to erupt. Gunshots jetted, cutting down overgrown vines like a saw. Paul’s heart drug a muffled beat. He took a shaky breath of the thick musty air through clenched teeth.

“Is e-everyone alright?”

Paul fought his head. It blurred. The faces around him, down, up or rushing across the decayed floor smeared. His world swayed like a tree in the wind. Frantic shouting clashed in his ear. Ace drug himself up by a string, staggering forward and hitting the wall beside someone else. Paul’s hand went white around the pistol—the other red.

He clenched his stomach. His blood pumped. It felt like he’d stuck his hand in a void. An even stream of blinding light bleached the building through the massive gap in the wall, somehow climbing over the buildings collapsed like dominoes and rubble-conquered streets. Ace tossed his arm out pistol in hand. He shot off a few rounds into the distant rubble or vivid blue sky outside.

Paul’s legs wobbled. Seeing something other than a bird or two after all these years would be nice.

“We’ve got to surrender.” A horrified voice grated Paul’s ears.

“T-This isn’t the end.”

Paul choked out. Paul.. choked out? His eyes shot wide. Ungodly wide. His breaths sped up. “We’ve got to eat.. what we came for..” Paul groaned. His legs turned to jello. He stumbled back. Every pinch of air in his lungs fled. He hit the rocks. Glass crunched. Everything waved in and out. Red burnt his eyelids. Singing birds soothed his mind like a lullaby before-

“Paul!”

A polished suburban house, surrounded by an ocean of green bathed by soft sunlight and a little American flag off the porch flashed. There was a grill on the lawn.

Paul smiled. His heart tried to flutter. His chest and throat loosened. A little more air slipped into his lungs. He curled into a tight ball. Two warm hands swept him up. Black took over his vision. Yelling boomed. Paul shut his eyes as tightly as possible. Echoes of pain crept through him distantly. Cool seeped through his bomber jacket.

Ace held it together.

“Y-You’re gonna’ be alright, Paul..” Pain grasped Ace’s shuddering voice like a lover.

“I’m.. I’m not. I know it.” His hand crawled onto Ace’s. “If those bombs go off.. all ten stories are going to collapse. You.. You can’t carry me out.” A bit of certainty spiked.

“Please.” Ace’s eyes shot wide, he quickly shook his head. “Don’t say that..”

“You can’t.. I’m dead.”

Ace grabbed Paul’s hand. Some feeling like vibrant colors exploded. Paul couldn’t help but to grin. “I love you.” He whispered, laying his head on Ace’s chest. The chaos around them died. Ace hugged him tightly, pulling him as close as possible. Tears poured down their faces like a river, soaking their shoulders.

Ace clutched him. He swallowed sobs. Paul took a deep breath, savoring the gentle homey smell clinging to Ace’s leather jacket. Iron coated his tongue.

“I’m not letting you go.” Ace forced strength into his voice. “I can’t.”

“But you gotta’ live..” Paul faded into murmurs.

“I swear to god—we’ll get out, I swear..!”

“You will.”

The suburban house flashed. Ace relaxed on the stairs, dressed in something clean with a grin shining on his bright face. Another person slammed into the heavy duty crates. Paul sunk into Ace. Ace shut his eyes as tight as he could. Paul’s limbs loosened in milliseconds. His smile spread into a grin.

“I always imagined us with kids..” Paul’s features softened. A little light sparked in his voice. “.. How many would you want?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“It’s gonna’ be okay, Ace.. you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that. We..we still have a future.”

“Maybe in another life.”

“Paul?”

“Think of it..”

“Paul. We have people in the future waiting for us—w-who don’t even know our names!”

…

“Paul?”

[ejzah]

The Agent and the Fireman, Part 15

***

Deeks managed to get his arms in front of him before he hit the ground, saving his face from a face full of gravel but the impact drove all the air from his lungs with a painful whoosh. He couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears.

The weight on his back lifted, making it slightly easier to breathe.

“Deeks. Deeks, are you ok?” Kensi demanded from above him, her voice tinny and faint. He rolled over with a groan, pressing a hand to his chest. Kensi leaned over him, her eyes wild with concern as she grabbed his shoulders.

“Ye—” His response was interrupted by a grating cough, that crackled up his throat. “Yeah, I’m ok.” His ears were still ringing slightly and it felt like the entire building had landed on his chest, but he was alive. “Yeah. Your cheek.”

He reached up where a thin line of blood streaked down from her cheek bone to her jaw.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “You’re looking a little rough though.”

Beside them, Callen and Sam were getting to their feet. “Everybody ok?” Sam asked, his voice raspy. He pressed his finger to his ear. “Castor, you clear?”

Once Sam ascertained there weren’t any casualties, Kensi offered Deeks a hand, and he stood, shaking shrapnel from his hair. Now that the initial shock was over, he felt the sting of little cuts along his exposed skin.

Billows of smoke poured from the partially demolished factory, flames flickering from where the roof once was. It had already created a dark cloud around them, bits of debris still lingering in the air.

“We need to get farther away in case there’s a secondary explosion,” he warned. “We have no idea what might be stored in there.”

“As soon as we secure the area. The bomb squad is on the way, but it might be too unstable for them to safely get close enough to check,” Callen said, leading them back across the street. “The second team’s making sure there aren’t any civilians we missed.”

Deeks eyed the building nervously; it was one thing when he entered a burning structure with protective gear and the training to recognize a worthwhile risk. An NCIS Agent with only a bullet proof vest and rifles against possible blazing fire was an entirely different story.

Callen, and Kensi had started rooting around the nearby alleyway, and he could see Sam sizing up the the main entryway.

Hey, everyone needs to get back,” Deeks repeated, taking on an authoritative tone. He saw both Sam and Callen turn to him in surprise. He didn’t give them time to object again. “You may be lead in this case, but I know fire better than any of you.” The sounds of sirens signaling the approach of trucks and squad cars reached them. “Let us check it out before you go running in.”

He expected more pushback, a reminder about their federal status, but Sam looked more impressed than anything, and Callen relented with a nod.

“Ok, we’ll follow your lead then.”

They moved towards the adjacent building as a group, the other team of agents led by Agent Castor joining them after a minute.

“Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical of you to preach caution after some of the stunts you’ve pulled?” Kensi asked once they were at a safer distance.

“Probably,” Deeks agreed. “I’ve seen some nasty things with fire over the years. It sneaks up on people. Besides, I know you guys like to bend protocol. Do you not approve?”

“Actually, I thought it was…very attractive,” Kensi replied with a sly grin. “I always do when you stand up to us like that.”

“Ooh, interesting.”

The arrival of emergency vehicles ended their conversation, and Deeks headed off to grab an extra set of gear and assist with the fire while the others coordinated securing the scene.

“Be careful!” Kensi called after him.

He lost track of her in the melee of it all. First, they let the bomb squad analyze the remains for further signs of explosive devices before taking over. Since most of the outer infrastructure was concrete, it didn’t take long to extinguish the remaining fire.

Deeks and a fire investigator did a walk through to ensure it would be safe for further investigation. When they were finished, he sought out Kensi, Sam, and Callen again.

“Did you find anything?” Callen asked.

“Whatever might have been there is long gone,” Deeks answered Callen’s question grimly. With a frustrated sigh, he tugged his safety helmet off, ruffling his matted hair. “The interior is completely gutted aside from anything metal or stone-based. We were so close.”

“Hey, we’ve closed down one of his avenues,” Kensi pointed out. “Eventually, he’s going to run out of places to hide.”

“Well, we still have his mother at—”

Deeks held up a hand, interrupting Sam mid-sentence. “How many officers did LAPD send?”

“Nine,” Kensi responded instantly. “Why?”

“Because now there’s 10. Guy at your 6 o’clock.” While keeping his body and head oriented towards Kensi, he watched the man lingering near the caution tape. “He’s got a clipboard, and appears to be collecting evidence, but the fit of his vest is a little off, and he’s about McHenry’s height.”

“You’re sure?”

Kensi shifted her body so she was facing Callen, and snuck a discreet glance beyond him.

Deeks inclined his head. “I can’t be positive, but he hasn’t gotten within three yards of anyone else and we know he’s returned to at least one scene previously.” He brushed Kensi’s shoulder in warning as the man turned around, and she hastily looked away.

Callen slowly scanned the entire area, pausing in the direction Deeks had indicated for a few extra seconds. “Ok, don’t make any fast moves, we’ll try to get close enough to him without making him suspicious. Keep an eye on him while we get reinforcements.”

Callen and Sam took off towards the lead LAPD officer.

“Too late,” Kensi growled a minute later. “He’s on the move.”

Sure enough, the man had started walking in the opposite direction, heading away from the man road and building.

Kensi put a hand on Deeks’ arm as he started to pursue. “Wait, where are you going?”

“You really want him to get away again?”

Kensi considered his question for a few seconds, and then dropped her hand, letting out another growl. “C’mon,” she said, which was all the encouragement Deeks needed to break into a run, Kensi easily keeping pace with him.

***

A/N: Ooh, look at that, we’re getting closer! I hope you’re still enjoying this story, fireman Deeks, and all the many liberties I take with fire protocol.

[unintentionalseductress]

I saw this tiktok video a looong time ago with these two women firefighters who have toned bodies and it got me thinking of a scenario with the l&ds boys.

Imagine MC/Reader fighting some wanderes or working out at the Hunters training center and Tara or some civilian noticed just how well tone she is and decide to make a post or video about her. Now MC/Reader is know as the "Hot Hunter"

I would love to see the boys reaction to MC/Reader new found attention and all the horny comments she is getting.

Hot Hunter

Warnings: mild boner descriptions, some grinding and twerking, suggestive dialogue, mostly harmless A/n: Thank you so much for sending this in @deputy-videogamer! It was fun imagining the men's reactions to this scenario. Hope you enjoy this! Just an FYI this was combined with another similar request for Zayne getting hard at the gym for MC. Not really proofread.

You carefully set up your camera and peeked at the screen one last time before picking up a pair of weights off the rack. Although working out was mostly necessary because of your job, it was more bearable now that you had a buddy.

You glance over at Zayne, who's flexing his shoulders, having finished a set on the chin-up bar. He catches your eye, his lips forming a subtle smile before he grabs the bar and lifts himself up again. You allow yourself a brief moment of indulgence, admiring how the fabric scrunches over his broad shoulders before returning to your own workout.

You're live now and already have viewers coming in. Tara insisted that posting hunter workouts was a great way to get audience engagement since many people are focusing on their health nowadays. You demonstrated some basic exercises and how to position the weights, correcting your form as you did so.

Sweat forms on your forehead as you go through the motions, your toned muscles tightening under the skin as you curl and relax. After a few sets, you decide squats are in order. You replace the dumbells and instead, pick up a heavier kettlebell. Turning so that your audience could clearly see your form and how you were adjusting your feet, you bend, feeling your thigh muscles stretch, and your ass tensing as you went down before slowly coming back up. Suddenly there’s a surge in the audience, the numbers rising up and the phone starts to ping continuously as comments flood the live stream. 

Wondering what could have happened, you’re about to get up but are spared as out of nowhere, Zayne suddenly snatches up your phone. His sharp eyes scan the screen, and there’s tension in the set of his mouth as he reads the comments.

“Zayne?” You ask from the floor, still squatting. He makes his way over to you. 

“Is there a reason you’re recording your workout?” Zayne asks, his eyes still moving over the screen. 

“Oh Tara suggested it. We get a lot of questions about our work out routine since we’re hunters. Why?”

“Well…it appears you may have gotten some…raunchy comments.” 

“What? No way!” Your eyes widen. “What are they saying?”

Zayne’s eyes flick uncertainly to your face before he clears his throat. “Well. Most of them seem to have a fruit.”

“A fruit?”

“A peach, to be precise.” A snort of laughter forces its way from your body. 

“Are you serious? There’s no way!” Zayne resignedly shows you the comments and indeed, every other one seemed to be the peach emoji.

“That hunter ass.” You’re amused as you read another one. “Hunter got the buns and the bakery. Look at that cake. Hunter workouts: the key to having a juicy peach.” The comments keep pouring in, and Zayne’s eyes darken as they get progressively thirstier. One in particular, coming from an anonymous commenter, said, “you can squat on my face miss hunter.” With a huff, Zayne ends the livestream. 

“Hey!” You protest as he pockets the device. “It was starting to get good.”

“I see. So lewd compliments about your rear are ‘good’.” Zayne’s eyes have a glint in them, and sulking, you stand, all motivation for your workout disappearing like rain. 

“I don’t see why those comments had to be so inappropriate.” Zayne bites out as he crosses his arms disprovingly. 

“It’s the internet.” You grumble as you start to put the weights back on the rack. “Who’s polite on the internet?” You back up and bump into a sturdy wall of muscle. Before you can register what’s happening, Zayne’s deep voice growls in your ear. 

“Have I not complimented you enough? Why are you looking for validation from strangers?” Caged between the rack and his body, you squirm, your ass inadvertently brushing against the junction of his thighs. Instantly, you feel him hardening, the warm, firmness of his cock pushing up invitingly against your bottom. 

“Well Dr. Zayne, it looks like you were saving your best compliment for last,” you tease and innocently reach down to pick up a lighter weight, your bottom rubbing provocatively against his erection as you bend over and straighten. You stifle a giggle as Zayne spins you around, biting your lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes. Zayne's hands tighten on your hips.

“This ‘cake’ belongs exclusively to me. We’ve worked out enough. I need to raise my sugar levels."

Rafayel didn’t like working out. He made this very obvious as he grumbled during your daily jog. It’s been 10 minutes and his cheeks are red, locks of his hair out of place, and plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in pants as he tries to keep up with you. 

“For being my bodyguard, you seem to always find new ways to kill me!” You look back over your shoulder and see him starting to slow down. Taking pity on him, you run in place and allow him to catch up. When he does, Rafayel moans and leans against a tree. “Are we done yet? This is torture!” 

You check your phone and try not to laugh at his state. “This is hardly anything Raf. We still have 2 miles to go.”

“2 miles?!” Rafayel crosses his arms and shakes his head no. “I refuse to believe it. You’re just saying that to trick me into running more than what was promised!”

Rolling your eyes but still amused, you playfully poke his ribs. “I’m really not. C’mon it’s a beautiful day out! We’re getting all this fresh air and enjoying all the greenery-”

“Fresh and green is for bunnies! I’m exhausted. Just let me rest ok?” He drinks from his water bottle and you wait patiently for him, stretching as he does so. Two men who had been sprinting briskly around the path when you had started now slow down as they near. They glance appreciatively at you, grinning at Rafayel. 

“You can run this round with us if you want. Let your friend rest.” One of them says sportingly, glancing at Rafayel’s disheveled state. Rafayel bristles at the implication. 

“Hey! I was just catching my breath!”

“Of course you were!” The other man interjects quickly, trying to quell Rafayel’s ire. “You just looked like you could use the break. She looks like she has a lot of energy! Could run this whole trail before either of us make it to the halfway mark.”

Noticing the ominous shadow starting to grow on his face, you laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Thanks. But I’m taking a break too. This was probably going to be my last mile.”

“Really?” The first man looks surprised. “With the way you were going, I thought you were going for at least 2 more. Are you a marathoner?”

You shake your head politely. “Hunter.”

“Oh! No wonder!” Both men smile dazzlingly. “Obviously hunters have to stay in good shape!”

“We do,” you say lightly, pretending to ignore Rafayel glowering behind you. “It’s a very physically demanding job.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel pipes up suddenly. “And she has very little time to herself. So we have to get going if it’s not too much trouble.”

Understanding the hint, the men nod at Rafayel. “Well enjoy your weekend then! Feel free to join us if you change your mind.” They run off and Rafayel glares at them. 

“Feel free to join us,” he says in a mocking tone as he watches them sprint away. “We’re never coming back to this park again.”

“Oh Rafayel, they were just being friendly.” You start to power walk and Rafayel follows suit. 

“No they weren’t! Didn’t you hear them? Let your friend rest. You look like you have a lot of energy! They were totally hitting on you!” You snort at his tone because he sounded so adorable right now.

“There’s nothing funny about strange men trying to hit on my girl. You’re already thinking of leaving me aren’t you?” Rafayel pouts, and you stop in your tracks before you fall over laughing. Cupping his sulky face between your hands, you quickly peck him on the lips, catching him off guard, because he’s blushing when you move away.

“I’d never leave you Raf. My breathless little fishball.”

“You can’t just insult me to my face and think it’s all ok!”

“Oh, so many people stitched my workout videos!” You’re lazing on Sylus’s lap as he works out the knots in your shoulders from your most recent sparring session. You wince as he squeezes a tender spot. 

“Ouch.”

“Ouch? What happened to no pain no gain?�� Sylus teases you. 

“It doesn’t always have to hurt.” You absently open a random stitch notification and watch as a burly, muscled, man talks into the camera while holding a plank. 

“Ok Miss Hunter! You said you can plank for 10 minutes no sweat! I’m gonna beat that record!” The man on the screen balances himself and the timer on the video starts. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the room and Sylus raises an eyebrow. 

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re watching adult videos right?” You pinch his thigh, satisfied when he twitches.

“No need to get defensive.” His hands wander to your lower back and he continues to massage you. You watch the video intently. The man who had stitched your video was already starting to lose balance; his forearms were quivering from the effort. The timer continues counting, but right at the eight-minute mark the man groans and breaks position. He laughs and winks at the camera. 

“Maybe you should give me a private lesson Miss Hunter!” he says jokingly before the video ends. The comments section is filled with comedic jabs at the man, saying he better last longer than that in other aspects.

“Pathetic,” Sylus murmurs and you startle, unaware that he had been looking at your phone. 

“It’s hard to plank Sylus.” You say discipliningly. “It took me 6 whole months before I could hold for 10 minutes.” 

Sylus doesn’t reply but his hands still as you open another stitch. A man giving off jock vibes fills the screen. “Ok! Miss Hunter said she could complete this whole circuit in 12 minutes! I’ve set up my workspace exactly the same way. If I beat her time, then I’ll ask her out to dinner! Wish me luck guys!” You watch in amusement as the guy starts his workout, puffing and grunting as he does so. 

He was behind 2 phases when the timer rang and he stopped, flopping to the floor. “Whoo! This kicked my ass! Looks like I didn’t beat her time. But hey, maybe Miss Hunter will take pity on me and ask me out herself?”

Your notifications ping suddenly and you check them, surprised to see Sylus’s name popping up several times. “What are you doing?” You open one of your workout videos, then stifle a laugh as you see the replies Sylus has been giving to the commenters.

“You’re too fine to be working out alone.” Sylus: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got me right there to spot her.”

“Are you a fitness trainer? Because you’ve got me wanting to follow your every move.”Sylus: “She’s not taking clients, but I’m sure a good mirror could help you with that ‘following her every move’ thing.”

“You’re perfect. The body, the confidence, the vibes—everything!”Sylus: “As her boyfriend, I agree!” 

You’re way too beautiful to be single.”Sylus: “Good observation. She’s not.”

Exasperated but also entertained, you straddle Sylus’s lap, nuzzling into him like a cat. “Is the big, bad leader of Onychinus jealous of some strangers on the internet?”

“Not at all kitten. But I think it’s fair to warn them that my gains aren’t always necessarily in the gym.”

Tara holds her phone up as she captures you demonstrating how to effectively use a punching. You perform some basic karate moves, the slaps of your hands and feet kicking the bag filling the gym at the Hunter’s Association. 

“Wow! These comments are so nice!” Tara encourages you as you wipe sweat from your brow. 

“Are they?”

“Yeah! This one lady is saying you’re inspiring her to workout again! Another one says your arms look so sleek and toned! AND!” Tara practically squeals with delight. “This one guy is asking if you do personal training sessions!”

Tara giggles and winks at you. “Maybe you should quit your job and become a fitness instructor instead!” As she continues to film you, more comments flood the inbox, some questions, others compliments. 

“This is the hot hunter I was telling you about! And he’s tagging his friend!” Tara can barely control her enthusiasm. You’re trending everywhere are #hothunter!”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Out of nowhere, Xavier steps in leaning over Tara’s shoulder to watch the screen. His eyes darken at the comments.

“Xavier!” Tara quickly puts the phone away, looking shocked. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up.”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Xavier repeats. His tone is light but you can see the beginnings of a threatening spirit starting to take hold of him. 

“No one! Just…some random person on the internet, it’s nothing serious! I mean, as her boyfriend, you have nothing to worry about!” Tara rambles, clearly sensing the ominous cloud hanging over Xavier’s head. Xavier reaches out to angle the phone and reads the influx of new comments. Tara glances over at you awkwardly, unable to break free from Xavier’s grip. 

After a long moment, Xavier releases the phone and then walks over to the punching bag you’d been demonstrating on. More pings resonate from the phone as more comments come on the screen. “Don’t stop now,” Xavier prompts Tara who looks apprehensive. “Please. Tell me what they’re saying.”

You look at Xavier tentatively and reach out to hold his hand. “Xavier. It’s just people on the internet posting comments. Everyone hopes for engagement nowadays right?”

Xavier doesn’t reply and continues to fix Tara with a stern look. Swallowing, she reads a few comments. “Who’s the guy that just walked in? He’s hot.” She glances nervously at Xavier. 

“Continue.”

“Is the new guy a hunter? Is he the hot hunter’s boyfriend? Is Mr. Hunter going to show us some workout moves too?”

“Hmm.” Xavier considers, then looks directly into the camera. “Greetings everyone. To answer your questions, yes, I’m a hunter too. I’m the hot hunter’s mission partner and boyfriend.” Your cheeks heat up and you push Xavier, trying to get him to cool off.

“I do have a move I’d like to show everyone watching.” Xavier continues to speak, unfazed by your subtle gestures for him to stop. He catches your hand and gently leads you away from the punching bag. He withdraws his hunter’s sword from its sheath, and it gleams under the lights as he does so. 

“Hunters are trained to disarm threats as quickly as possible. Advanced weapons like my sword here are very effective.” Swiftly, Xavier raises his arm, and in one neat swipe, cleaves the punching bag into 2. Stuffing falls like cottony blood from the tear. Xavier brandishes his sword at the phone.

“That’s what happens when I try to protect my girlfriend. Pretty cool huh?” There’s a smile on Xavier’s face that’s charming, yet somehow menacing at the same time. For a brief second, the comments section goes silent. Then it starts bursting with fresh words.

“I want him as a boyfriend! So possessive I love it! Can Mr. Hunter possibly make more videos with the hot hunter?” You read them in your head and sigh.

“Well Xavier, you’ll probably be trending this week as #mrhunter.” You let out a startled gasp as Xavier firmly grips your upper arm and leads you away from the gym. 

“Good. The fewer eyes on you the better.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @erebus-et-eigengrau @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen

[storiesofsvu]

Bump in the Night

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, some anxiety/fear, aaron to the rescue type vibes, nothing serious, just a creeper. This was supposed to be a drabble... I do not know what happened...

While you weren’t actually part of the BAU, you were best friends with Penelope which meant that any girls night��s, baking tutorials, birthday, Christmas or Halloween celebrations, you were invited. Over all of those events you’d become a friend of everyone on the team, a happy face for them to see after a long week or more away. You regularly helped Penelope get things set up for them or were the one out running errands or picking up treats while she was finishing work. It was as if the two of you were their own personal slice of sunshine, which was exactly why Hotch always felt a blooming of warmth in his chest whenever Garcia mentioned you’d be in attendance or he’d round the corner and lay eyes on you.

The two of you clicked, he surprised himself, already coming out of his shell on the first night you’d met, something he usually reserved until he’d had time to fully profile someone and make sure their intentions were good. Instead you had him laughing by the end of the night, a sight that you definitely wanted to see again. There was a mild flirtation, but nothing that anyone else ever picked up on, and not one that ever moved past a little tease here or there, an offhand comment about how you were prettier than the girl eyeing Aaron up, or that the muscley firefighter really wasn’t your type. You were friends, which was all you really needed.

Friends morphed into good friends over the course of the year that you knew each other. First it was a run in at a coffee shop, Aaron halfway out the door in a rush to work, just enough time to flash you a warm smile and say hello before parting ways.

The second time he was pulling into a gas station, spotting you hanging up the nozzle a few pumps down before you got back into your car to peel away down the street.

The third was the produce section of the grocery store, you spotted him first, eyes darting through the items in his basket, nearly making him jump when you suddenly spoke from behind him once you’d figured out what he was making for dinner.

Number four was a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, Jack had insisted on going to the park with a few friends and Aaron ended up chaperoning. One of the kids spotted a friendly dog and when they raced of to pet it, he realized you were on the other end of the leash and made a comment that he didn’t know you had a dog. With a glittering laugh you explained you were dog sitting and the moment Jack realized you were a friend of his dad’s; Aaron was the one stuck dog sitting while you were being dragged around the playground.

The fifth was a late Friday evening, Jack was away for the weekend and Aaron had stopped to pick up a bottle of wine to have with his take out. While he stood staring at the bottles he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye but didn’t look up until he heard the familiar laugh as you snuck in front of him to grab your favourite. He asked if you had a hot date and you practically snorted, saying the only company you had that night was a pair of sweats and your couch. You then raised a playful eyebrow and teasingly asked if he’d been stalking you and his cheeks instantly tinged pink, nearly fumbling his words as he tried to explain he lived around the corner. Your hand on his elbow suddenly brought him back down to his senses and he was able to laugh it off when he clued in that you were completely joking, explaining you’d been wondering the same thing.

Upon the discovery that you were in adjacent neighbourhoods and that you worked from home, you exchanged phone numbers. On the off chance the jet was delayed, you could pick up Jack from school, stopping at the park for an hour until Aaron was home, maybe even get started on dinner and homework. If there was a last minute case and Jessica was still at work, you’d head over to be the in between buffer so Hotch could leave right away. He was insistent on you calling whenever you needed anything, he picked up your mail when you went on vacation, helped out with the leaky pipe in your laundry room and came in very handy when it came to changing the light bulbs you couldn’t even dream of reaching.

Currently, Jack was away at summer camp and Aaron was swindled into finally using up some of his vacation time. The first few days he’d deep cleaned the house from top to bottom, next it was a similar treatment for the yard. By the time he’d reached the second Tuesday he’d ran out of things to do until he ran into you at the corner store and you suggested seeing a movie considering neither of you had anything to do and the movie theatre air conditioning couldn’t be beat. With the heat on the rise, and a plethora of summer blockbusters you continued the new tradition each night that week. Most days you drove together, Aaron either picking you up or walking you home from his place depending on the weather.

Friday you’d been out with friends for a late lunch, had a handful of errands to run and were closer to the theatre than home, meeting him there. When he asked if you needed a ride you let out a small laugh, explaining that you’d driven, but thanked him anyway, the smile evident on your cheeks as he wordlessly insisted on walking you to your car at the very least.

Car windows down you had music going on the drive home, pulling into the driveway and enjoying the song for one more chorus before finally turning off the ignition and collecting your things. You made your way through the front door, relocking it behind you and tossing your keys down onto the small table in the entry way as you toed off your shoes.

You were making a beeline through the house to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water when a couple of thumps from the other side of the wall caused you to jump, your heart leaping in your chest. You left the kitchen light off, tip toeing through the room and you realized you’d left the kitchen window ajar earlier to get some fresh air in. Letting out sigh of relief you pushed it down so it was only open an inch or two, though your eyes caught movement across the yard, a clattering that sounded like your garbage bins and your brow furrowed, wondering why the automatic security light hadn’t caught what you figured was a raccoon.

Padding across to the doorway you flicked the light switch a couple of times, normally if the light was activated already that did the trick, but this time the yard remained pitch black.

“For fuck’s sake.” You muttered, digging around in a cupboard until you found a spare bulb before unlocking the back door and stepping onto the porch. Reaching up you went to unscrew the bulb and let out another annoyed sigh that it was actually just loose, so you screwed it back in, shielding your eyes as it burst to life.

The screen door swung shut behind you as you stepped back inside and you noticed a small duffle bag on the edge of the porch that at first glance didn’t look that familiar, but you didn’t really think much of it. A few people on your street often leant things to one another and you had been waiting on a couple of gardening tools, but you weren’t about to look into it now. The hairs on the back of your neck were still standing up and you were ready to be back inside behind locked doors, especially as your motion stilled and the light flicked off once again.

As you crossed through the kitchen to finally pull open the fridge you heard yet another clatter from outside and your stomach dropped when the security light flicked back on. Fridge quickly shut you backed into it, up on your toes in an attempt to peer out the window, praying it was just an animal. There was a light scuffling right at the back porch and you were so thankful for having immediately locked the door.

You were even more thankful for the lock when your eyes finally caught the movement, a hand creeping up through the railing near the duffle bag and you couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips. At the sound, the hand froze and you immediately leapt forward, slamming the kitchen window all the way shut and you saw a shadowy figure dart through the outskirts of the yard, just out of reach of the light. Your heart thundering in your chest you were honestly surprised you were able to dig your phone out of your pocket and find Aaron’s contact.

“Hotchner.”

You felt a brief wave of relief wash over you at how quickly he answered, “I’m really wishing I’d taken you up on that ride now…”

“Why?” His voice immediately tensed, “what’s wrong?”

“There’s someone in my yard…” you let out a breath you’d been holding when the light outside flicked off, your shoulders starting to relax, “pretty sure he was there before I got home.” A crash echoed through the air and you jumped, your voice wavering when you spoke again “fuck he’s still here.”

“I’m already on my way, keep the doors locked, the lights off and stay away from the windows.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, heart racing as you heard his car start through the phone and he assured you he’d be right over before the phone line clicked.

Trying to keep your breath calm you kept your eyes trained on the window, backing into the pantry door so you were concealed by the fridge but could still see if the light went off again. It was only a matter of moments later you heard a car squealing to a halt out front, the door slamming shut followed by Aaron’s voice. You caught his shadow moving around the side of the house and the light in the backyard flicked back on when he announced himself, the gate booted open and you were just able to see someone launching themselves over the back fence into the alley before running off. All they needed was the threat of a federal agent and the assumption of a gun to peel off into the night.

You felt your breathing calming down as the sound of running got further and further away, finally dropping down into a chair at the kitchen table. Aaron, being Aaron, wasn’t satisfied with just running the perp off, doing a full sweep of both your front and back yards, checking the alleyway, under the porch and any nooks and crannies anything or person could possibly have been stashed. You heard him on the back step and glanced up to see him sifting though the duffle bag, a frown on his face, his lips pressed into a firm line. With a huff he scooped up the bag and sauntered across the yard, dropping it on the other side of the fence with the garbage before making his way back to the door. A brisk knock echoed through the kitchen followed by his voice,

“He’s gone, it’s just me, Aaron.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breath of a laugh, as if you hadn’t had your eyes on him the entire time, making sure everything was okay. Crossing the room you finally turned the kitchen light on, unlocking the door and letting it swing open.

“Hey.” You smiled softly, “thanks.”

“Of course.” His lips formed a tight smile as he stepped into the house, locking the door behind himself, “just to be safe I want to do a sweep inside, stay put.” His hand squeezed at your elbow as he moved past you and you were left awkwardly standing in your own kitchen until he returned.

“No psycho killers?” You asked, a shaky laugh in your throat.

“All empty.” He nodded, his features softening as he noticed the rapid rising and falling of your chest, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to wave him off but he took a step closer to you.

“Come here.” He crooked his hand and you surprised yourself with how quickly you closed the gap between the two of you, enveloping yourself in his arms. Aaron squeezed at you tightly, tucking you under his chin and just letting you breathe until he felt the tension begin to melt away from your body. “It’s alright. He’s gone and I highly doubt he’s coming back.” His lips brushed against the top of your hair as he spoke and something about it calmed you even further, finally pulling out of the embrace.

“What was in the bag?”

“Trophies.” He replied with a sigh and he only caught himself when your eyes widened. “No, no, not those kind of trophies.” His hand squeezed at your shoulder, “sorry. Keepsakes, prizes, expensive things that can be pawned or sold to the highest bidder. My guess is he was only here to get your valuables, you spooked him coming home and he just wanted the bag back, he probably hit a few houses on the block before here.”

“God he was on the porch.” You shivered, “probably right as I walked in.”

“And your instinct was to grab a light bulb?” Aaron’s lips twitched up in a teasing grin and your brow furrowed until you followed his gaze and realized you hadn’t let go of the object yet.

“No.” You huffed, “the backyard light wasn’t working, I went to change it but it just needed to be tightened.”

“You were out there?”

“Yeah.” You shivered again, this time heavier, “he was probably less than a foot away. God, that was stupid.”

“Agreed.” He frowned in your direction, “that happens again you call me right away, alright?”

“You think he loosened it?”

“Most likely. Easier to stay in the darkness, not alert the neighbours of anything weird. You’ve always said Mrs. Ferguson was a bit too nosy.” His lips flicked up into a grin again and you let out a small laugh, “he probably cased the neighbourhood, have you been keeping the same daily routine recently?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “movies with you. But we almost always go at the same time and tonight’s movie wasn’t any shorter or anything, so why would I have been home before he expected it?”

It was Aaron’s turn to fumble over his words, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink while he quickly ducked his gaze, letting out an awkward laugh before he glanced back up at you. “I guess now would be the proper time to admit that when I drive, I tend to take the scenic route…”

Your head titled in a curious and adorable way that didn’t help the burning in Hotch’s cheeks, “what? What’d you mean?”

God you were absolutely going to be the death of him and he knew it. This summer had finally brought something to the edge for Aaron and he’d been holding back, happy with the time he got to spend with you. The evening hangouts had began to start to feel more and more like dates with each one that went passed and he’d been hoping that you would start to think the same and be the one to break the tension. Instead, he found himself feeling flustered, standing in your kitchen at nearly midnight having to explain it to you.

“Don’t get me wrong, the movies are great, but there’s something about the way you light up afterwards that just makes me smile.” He started and you felt a fluttering begin in your stomach, one that finally wasn’t due to fear, “hearing you gush about things, delve so deep into characterization or the cinematography of it all, seeing you so passionate about it.. it just makes me happy. Honestly, it’s my favourite part of the day.”

“Oh…” you replied, the realization washing over you and for a moment Aaron was afraid you were about to step back, ask him to leave, but then you giggled and the smile broke out on your lips, “so you’re just a big ole’ softie?”

He shook his head, the smile bright on his cheeks, “I’ve grown to adore the time we spend together. I was planning on taking a detour tonight too, Pintango just launched a lavender honey flavour this week—”

“And you remembered that I couldn’t shut up about wanting to try it after the movie last week…” you felt your cheeks heat, “embarrassing on my part yet endearing on yours.”

“And lucky on life’s behalf that it didn’t happen, you’d be down a few heirlooms and pieces of technology.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You wrapped you arms around yourself, “my adrenaline’s high enough lord knows I’m not gonna be able to sleep anytime soon.” With a sigh you glanced across at him, “don’t suppose you feel like sticking around for a bit? Keeping me company while I ramble on and on about useless facts?”

The sly smile on your cheeks nearly melted Aaron and he laughed softly, “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

He followed you out to the couch, letting you get comfortable while you voted on a number of different movies before finally settling on one. A movie and a half later and you were relaxed into the crook of his arm, his hand just daring to softly play with your hair. You let out a long yawn, sinking even further into his side and he chuckled softly.

“You should get to bed, get some actual rest.”

“I’m still on edge. I don’t want to have to call you to come running for every bump in the night.”

This time Aaron did squeeze at your shoulder, shifting on the couch so you were forced to sit up straight and he could catch your gaze.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until sunrise. That creep’s likely going to come back for his bag, that’s why I dumped it in the alley rather than bringing it inside. I don’t want you to be alone for that.”

“Mmm…” you hummed, a sleepy smile on your cheeks, “you’re sweet. Thank you.” Leaning in, your lips brushed against his cheek and Aaron felt his stomach do a flip flop. He squeezed at your hand, giving you a soft smile as you finally stood up off the couch. “Make yourself at home.”

“Sweet dreams.” He replied and you weren’t sure whether it was his words or the sleepiness that was making everything feel warm and fuzzy as you made your way to the bedroom.

It was a few hours later when you rolled over, only awake enough to shift your body into a more comfortable position until a thump outside had your eyes shooting open. It was very quickly followed up by the hissing of two cats and you let out a huff, rolling back onto your side.

Your bedroom door was left cracked open and there was a sliver of light and the tiniest hint of noise coming from the living room meaning Hotch was likely still awake. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for a hoodie to tug over your head before you padded out to the living room, finding your overnight company peering out the window blinds. At the sound of your footsteps he glanced back over to you, his body relaxing.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” you waved him off with a small yawn, “couple a cats outside my window.” You covered a second yawn with your hand and Aaron barely moved from his spot, curious as to why you were up already. You glanced from him to the couch, a mug of coffee on the coffee table, and finally to the television. “Hey…” you started, picking at the sleeves of your hoodie, “I get you’re doing the whole protective thing—and I appreciate it! I really do…but uh.. there’s no reason for you to stay awake all night.” You took a breath, the butterflies in your stomach fully awake and doing laps, “might as well come to bed.”

“Oh, well I was just going to wait until morning, head home to nap…” He started, unsure of what he even wanted to say. He was pretty sure you’d just woken up, and there was a pretty high change that your choice of words weren’t exactly what you intended, “but if you’re feeling okay, I could make up the couch?”

“Aaron.” You laughed, “the sun’ll be up in a couple of hours anyways, you need to sleep too.”

“I still want to make sure you’re safe, I’ll be alert out here.” He offered and you chuckled once again.

“And if he comes in through the bedroom window? No better place to protect me than right beside me.” You extended out your hand, “c’mon, humour me? Maybe I talk in my sleep and you’ll get to listen to more of those ramblings you seem to adore so much.”

It appeared the lack of adrenaline coursing through your veins and a couple hours of sleep made you not only fully comprehend what Aaron had admitted to earlier, but much more ballsy about acting on it. He laughed softly, feeling the heat creeping up the back of his neck and after glancing between you and the couch he knew that the latter was going to do a number on his back if he actually slept on it. So he flicked off the television, scooped up his phone and your hand slid into his like a glove so you could lead him to the bedroom.

You wordlessly climbed back into your bed, curling up on your side, letting out a soft sigh as you nuzzled into the pillows. Aaron watched you for a moment in the low light, a warmth blooming through his chest at just how at peace and comfortable you were with him around and he realized maybe there was something he liked even better than your ramblings.

“If you’re just gonna stand there and stare at me all night maybe I should kick you back to the couch.” You teased, your eyes cracking open and he let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he snuck under the blankets.

“This okay?” He asked, trying not to take up too much of your space.

“Yes.” You replied, a smile on your lips as your eyes fell shut again, “but I can’t be held responsible if we wake up cuddling.”

Aaron chuckled, relaxing into the pillow as his breathing finally began to slow, chest rising and falling at the same time yours did, lulling him into sleep quicker than he could have imagined.

*

The stream of light coming through the blinds and the chirping of a bird outside your window was what woke him up first, his eyes scrunching slightly before they finally opened. His lips curved up into a grin, as it certainly did seem like you wouldn’t be the one responsible for any cuddling. You’d barely moved from where you’d curled up the night before, just rolled over to face the window, yet Aaron found himself wrapped around your back, arm circled around your waist, his head barely on his own pillow.

He shifted slightly, attempting to stretch out the stiff parts of his body without moving entirely and waking you up. However his attempts proved futile as you let out a soft groan, eyes scrunching at the brightness of the room before you stretched out your legs and rolled over to face him, a sparkle already in your eyes.

“Morning.” You murmured.

“Morning.” He replied, smiling softly.

“So not only are you a softie, you’re a sleep cuddler… what other secrets are you hiding?” You asked with a tease and he laughed.

“Would you believe me if I said I crocheted in my downtime?”

“Not in a million years. You don’t have any downtime.” Laughing, you swatted at his chest before sitting up, fully stretching your body out with a soft groan.

“Guess that one was a little too obvious.” He replied with a chuckle, sitting up at the sound of his phone pinging. He swiped open the notification as you swung your legs out of bed, scrolling through a couple of things on your own phone as you padded toward the hallway.

“Work?” You asked, his footsteps following you down the hallway toward the kitchen, “or do you have time for coffee?”

“No.” He pocketed his phone, “but unfortunately, also no. I promised Garcia I’d help her install one of those cat wall climbing, enrichment, obstacle courses.”

“Cute.” You shot him a smile before scooping out the appropriate amount of coffee for yourself.

“But if you’re free tonight…” he stepped toward you as you turned back to face him, “maybe I could pick you up, we could go get some ice cream?” Somehow Aaron’s heart wasn’t thundering in his ears this time and the smile you looked up at him with really was about to make him melt.

“I’d like that.” You replied, the butterflies in your stomach calmed, spreading warmth through your entire body.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s a date.” Smiling, his hand reached out, smoothing back a piece of your hair before trailing down your cheek, “I’ll see you at seven.” His hand on your chin he tilted your head to the side, lips brushing against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he stepped back. You couldn’t help but smile at the slight blush on his cheeks as he gathered his things and headed toward the front door.

“I’ll see you at seven.” You repeated his words, “and Aaron?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to call.”

“Oh believe me, I won’t.”

______________

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[oaksgrove]

Charmed by Two

pairing: John Price x singlemom!Reader

synopsis: When John Price steps into your life, he’s not just falling for you—he’s falling for your spirited 4-year-old daughter, too. Without a father figure in sight, Price finds himself enchanted by the little girl’s charm and innocence. As he slowly earns her trust with bedtime stories, backyard adventures, and a well-placed British wit, he also finds himself falling deeper for you. But his determination to impress you both comes with a question: can he truly be the man you both deserve?

word count: 1574

warnings: Fluff, mild angst (discussions of past relationships), Price’s fatherly charm, emotional moments, and a lot of found-family vibes.

John Price had been in plenty of tight spots before—ambushes, firefights, missions that left him questioning if he’d make it home. He’d spent most of his adult life on the battlefield, navigating dangerous situations and making life-or-death decisions. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the delicate operation of holding a tiny pink teacup in his calloused hands,  pinky out, under the watchful eye of a four-year-old who was beaming up at him like he’d just hung the moon.  

"Mr. Price," she said with all the seriousness her little voice could muster, "you’re not holding it right. Your pinky has to stick out like this!" She demonstrated, her tiny pinky jutting out at an angle as she lifted her cup of imaginary tea.  

John chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, and she giggled in response. "Right, right," he said, mimicking her movements, awkwardly extending his pinky. "Like a proper gentleman, yeah?"  

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her curls bouncing as she nodded.  

"Careful," your daughter warned, her tiny brows furrowing in a perfect imitation of your serious face. "You can’t spill it. This is very important tea."

"Got it, ma’am," he replied, his gravelly voice warm with humor. His pinky stuck out awkwardly as he mimicked her movements, holding the teacup steady. "Wouldn’t want to ruin the most important tea of the year."

She giggled, her curls bouncing as she leaned forward to pour another round of imaginary tea from her plastic teapot. "It’s the best tea in the world," she declared.

Price didn’t miss a beat, bringing the empty cup to his lips and sipping with exaggerated gusto. "Ah, perfect brew. You’re a natural, love. Could open your own tea shop."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed at him like he’d just handed her the moon. "Really? You’d come to my tea shop?"

"Every day," he said solemnly. "I’d be your best customer."

From the doorway, you watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling at the sight. You hadn’t expected John to bond so easily with your daughter. When you’d first introduced them, you’d been nervous—terrified, even. She was your world, and letting someone into her life wasn’t something you did lightly. But John had stepped into the role with a natural ease that left you in awe.  

It wasn’t just the little things, like playing tea parties or reading her bedtime stories. It was the way he listened to her, the way he knelt to her level when she spoke, the way he made her feel important. He had a quiet patience with her that made your chest ache, especially knowing how her father had never shown her the same.  

"More tea, sir?" your daughter asked, holding out the teapot.  

"Don’t mind if I do," he replied, holding out his cup with a grin.  

She poured the imaginary tea with the utmost concentration, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. When she finished, she beamed up at him. "There! Now you have to drink it all, or it’s bad manners."  

"Bad manners, eh?" He raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. "Well, can’t have that."  

He brought the empty cup to his lips, making an exaggerated sipping sound, then smacked his lips. "Ah, that’s the best tea I’ve ever had."  

She erupted into giggles, her laughter filling the room.  

You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned against the doorframe. When he glanced up and caught your eye, his expression softened. He gave you a small, almost shy smile, as if to say, I’m trying my best.  

And he was.  

-

Later that evening, after your daughter had been tucked into bed and the house had fallen quiet, You found John in the kitchen, rinsing out the teacups she’d insisted on washing after the party. He looked up as you entered, a dish towel slung over one shoulder.

"Tea party wear you out?" you teased.  

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She’s got more energy than I do, that’s for sure."  

"She adores you, you know," you said softly, your gaze steady on him.  

His eyes flicked to yours, something tender and vulnerable in his expression. "Yeah?"  

You nodded. "She talks about you all the time. Says you’re her hero."  

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but there was a weight behind his smile. "She’s a good kid. Smart, too. You’ve done a hell of a job with her."  

"Thank you," you murmured, your chest tightening. "But you’re the one she looks at like that now. Like you’re her whole world."  

His eyes distant for a moment before he turned to you. "I’ve never had anything like this before," he admitted. "Never thought I’d… fit into something like this. But I want to. For her. For you."  

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you reached out to his arm. "You do fit, John. Better than I ever imagined."  

He squeezed your hand, his voice low and steady. "I know I can’t replace… I know I’m not her dad. But I’ll do right by her, for as long as you’ll let me."  

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your heart full. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."  

You smiled despite yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deeper.

This wasn’t the first time he’d spent an afternoon entertaining your daughter, but it was the first time you let yourself really think about what it meant. He wasn’t just playing along; he was present in a way you hadn’t expected. In a way that scared you.

This wasn’t something you’d planned for. When you’d first met John, you’d been cautious. He was older, gruff, and came with the kind of baggage you knew could complicate things. And you had your daughter to think about—her safety, her happiness. Letting someone into her life wasn’t just a decision for you; it was a decision for both of you.

And yet, here he was looking at your daughter like she was the most important person in the world. It was endearing, yes, but it also scared you. What if this didn’t last? What if he decided this wasn’t the life he wanted?

You closed your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. The logical part of you knew John cared, but the quieter, more insecure part of you couldn’t help but question if this was all temporary. Was he here for you? For her? Or just because it was easy right now?

"Love, you alright?"

His voice startled you, and you quickly wiped your hands on your jeans, pretending you hadn’t been lost in your thoughts. He was looking directly at you, the tiara still perched on his head, though slightly askew. His eyes were soft, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Yeah," you said quickly, offering him a small smile. "Just… thinking."

"You’ve got that look," he murmured.

"What look?"

"The one you get when you’re overthinking something," he said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. "Want to tell me about it?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you glanced past him toward the living room, where your daughter was now busy rearranging her tea set. "She really likes you," you said quietly.

John didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you carefully. "And you’re worried about that?" 

You let out a shaky breath. "She’s already been let down once. I don’t want her to get attached if…" Your voice trailed off, and you shook your head, looking away.

"If I leave?" he finished gently.

You nodded, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It’s not just about her, though," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s about me, too."

His expression softened, and he reached out to take your hands in his. "Look at me, love."

You did, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. "She’s brilliant, smart as a whip, full of life… she reminds me of you."  

"I know I can’t erase what she’s been through," he said quietly. "And I know I can’t promise to be perfect. But I’m here because I want to be. For her. For you. I’m not going anywhere." he continued, his voice low and steady.

You blinked up at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Tears stung your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. "You mean that?"

"With everything I’ve got," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I know you’ve been hurt before, and I know you’re scared, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it. I care about her, and I care about you. Both of you."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. "I just… I don’t want to get this wrong."

"You’re not getting it wrong," he murmured, stepping closer until his forehead was nearly touching yours. "We’re figuring it out together. Yeah?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reached up to brush it away with his thumb, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Besides," he added with a small grin, "I think your little one’s already decided I’m sticking around. She said I’m her best customer, remember?"

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. "She really has taken to you."

"And I’ve taken to her," he said simply. "To both of you."

taglist:

@honestlymassivetrash

[moonstruckme]

hiii I'm just here resubmitting my request<3 so maybe r was in a fire (a small or large one, u decide), james was called and when he finds out it was her he gets sooo worried and she goes to the hospital or something? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: fire, paramedics/ambulance, symptoms of smoke inhalation

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

James starts to stand you up when the ambulance turns onto your block. 

“Jamie, don’t bother them.” You feel a cough building in your chest, but you repress it. “I’m f—fine.” It escapes on the last syllable, and you can barely look at your boyfriend as he raises his eyebrows at you, incredulous.

“Humor me,” he says simply. 

You let him pull you up this time, and he presses a kiss into your hair even though you smell like pollution. James has stripped out of his bulky jacket, but the heavy pants still hang from suspenders wrapped around his black t-shirt. The fabric swishes against your leg as you make your way over to the ambulance. 

“We need oxygen,” he says without prelude, though not unkindly, nodding at the paramedic that gets out first in greeting. 

As if to punctuate this, your throat pinches warningly, and you let out a couple of meager coughs. James’ arm contracts around your waist. 

The paramedic seems to trust his authority, nodding for her partner to get something ready in the back while she walks over to you. 

“Look here please,” she says. 

You obey, flinching slightly when she points a pen light in your eyes. James’ hand migrates up to your shoulder, rubbing lightly. 

“Any dizziness?” 

“No,” you say, coughing a bit. 

She clicks her light off. “Nausea or vomiting?” 

“No.” 

“Headache?” 

“No.” 

James cuts a look your way. “Sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“I did have a headache,” you amend, “but it went away.” 

“Chest pain?” 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Shortness of breath?” 

“I don’t…” You look to James, then feel stupid. It’s not like he knows. “I don’t think so?” 

“Coughing?” 

“Yes,” James says emphatically. 

The paramedic gives him a funny look, then asks you, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. A little cough works its way out of your lungs as if to prove it. 

James looks a bit chastised. He rubs your back, touch both firm and comforting. 

She gives you both a smile. “Come sit back here, please.” 

You follow her into the back of the ambulance, perching awkwardly on the gurney in the middle.

“It seems like you have relatively mild symptoms of smoke inhalation,” she tells you. Her partner passes her a mask, and she holds it over your face for a few seconds before letting you do it yourself. Her fingers press to your wrist. “Your eyes are irritated, but it’s a good sign that your headache went away already. There’s probably not much more we can do other than give you oxygen. Your other symptoms should ease on their own.” 

You nod your understanding, relieved even if you’d been the one saying you didn’t need any help. With James, it’s typically best if only one of you shows your worry at a time. And he’s plenty worried enough for both of you right now. 

You glance over at him, standing outside with his arms crossed. It’s doing crazy things to his biceps, and you think that usually he’d grin if he caught you checking him out like this but now he looks like he might start tapping his foot impatiently. You feel guilty for getting him in such a tizzy. 

The paramedic finishes with your pulse and follows your gaze. “That your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Your breath fogs the mask. “Mhm.” 

“He seems fairly rattled,” she notes. “I supposed it’s probably not typical to get called to a fire at your girlfriend’s place, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

You’d already been sitting out on the lawn when James’ crew had arrived, the fire already put out and your front door left open. Smoke rolled out of it in one thick, relentless wave. You still have no idea how a fire that couldn’t have been burning more than fifteen minutes had created so much. You suppose James could tell you if you asked him later. 

The others had run inside, but James had gone straight to you. His chief wanted to confirm with you that there was no one else in the home (there wasn’t) and that you’d gotten out quickly (you didn’t have a great answer for that one). Like pulling teeth, it came out that you’d fallen asleep with dinner in the oven, and it was only by coincidence that someone had called your phone and the ringing woke you up. You’d turned off the oven and dumped cupfuls of water on your flaming dinner until it went out, but the smoke had spread throughout your home and your neighbor had already called emergency services. 

This led to you having to admit you hadn’t replaced the batteries in your smoke detector, which had led to a fervent lecture from your boyfriend that you doubt you’ve heard the end of. It was only the arrival of the ambulance that had distracted him. 

The paramedic sitting next to you jerks her chin toward James. That’s all it takes to get his attention, since he’s watching you like you’re going to float away if he doesn’t keep a close eye on things. 

“You can come up here,” she tells him. 

James clambers up quickly, giving her a terse smile at half his usual wattage as she moves to let him take her place next to you. 

“Hey, angel.” He takes the mask from you, holding it to your face himself. His other hand slides down the inside of your forearm and interlocks its fingers with yours. “Is she okay?” he asks the paramedic you’d spoken to. 

“Her symptoms are minor,” she assures him. “I wanna keep her on oxygen for ten minutes or so before checking her levels, but she’ll be fine.” 

James nods in thanks, but his sigh ghosts over the shell of your ear when he leans his brow against the side of your head. The paramedics conveniently find other things to do, and you’re grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly. 

“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he says, matching your tone, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh a little. It provokes your lungs, and a cough follows. 

James winces. Kisses your cheek softly. 

“Yeah,” you try again. “That sounds good, thank you.” 

“The next time you set foot in your place, I’m going with you and installing new smoke detectors.” 

Now you wince. “Fair enough.” 

“And I don’t think you should ever cook or nap again.” 

“That seems a bit far.” 

“I dunno, I think I’m being reasonable.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering this time. “I’d prefer to wrap you in some sort of fireproofed bubble wrap, but I think this is a compromise we can both live with, no?” 

You smile, and you can’t tell if your chest hurts because of your smokey lungs or the raw quality to James’ teasing, but it helps when he smiles back. 

“What if,” you say, “you cook, and I nap. Would that satisfy you?” 

He mulls this over for a second. “For now,” he decides. “I think I’d still like to work on fire-proofing some bubble wrap in the meantime, though.”

[yeagersss]

Sam's masterlist — Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Header credit @/_sneez__ on twitter

Please note reader is female/afab in all my fics!

Drabbles/Short fics

You are a sorcerer who challenges Sukuna

Sukuna being obsessed with your boobs (18+)

Does Sukuna have a favourite concubine?

Sukuna cheering you up after you've gained weight (Mild 18+)

Thighriding Sukuna (18+)

Clingy Sukuna!

You try to get Sukuna to hold his and your daughter

How Sukuna helps you during period cramps

Retired!Boxer Sukuna and you are his ex-girlfriend (Prequel) (Part 1)

You ask Sukuna if he went north or south in his past life

College AU where you are a quiet person and end up in a group project with popular guy Sukuna (Part 1)

You are a sorcerer who can make water clones and try to take down Sukuna...

Your husband Sukuna brings home child Uraume (Part 1) (Part 2)

Headcanons/Rambles

Sukuna would eat you out on your period (18+)

Sukuna + Voice kink (18+)

Thoughts on Sukuna meeting you after heading North

Sukuna does not care about your appearance!

If Sukuna was a firefighter...

Sukuna doesn't propose...

Sukuna trying to hide when he's embarrassed

Requests

You are his son's bride

[animeyanderetalker]

Darling returning to their house after having bought some groceries only to find Jinpachi standing outside their smoking apartment with firefighters surrounding him, holding a burnt pan in his hand:

Darling: "What?! Did?! You?! Do?!"

Jinpachi, staring with mild disdain at the burnt pan he is holding: "It started off fine...and then it was suddenly on fire."

Darling: "You set my kitchen on fire!!"

Jinpachi, pushing up his glasses: "That is incorrect. I didn't set fire on your kitchen. Fire was all of a sudden on your kitchen."

Jinpachi and darling staring at each other whilst darling contemplates murder through strangulation by using the hose of the fire truck.

Jinpachi: "I assume I'm forbidden of using the kitchen from now on?"

Darling: "Yes. Yes, you are."

[novamariestark]

Stress Relief...

Summary: Over the last 9 months, your life has changed a lot, it was hard not to feel stressed, but after meeting quite possibly the sexiest guy you'd ever met at Molly's, stress was the last thing on your mind

Warnings: age gap, smut, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), drunk-ish sex

Word count: 3354

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x halstead!reader

[A/N] I've been wanting to write for Hank a long time, but every time i watched Chicago P.D to get ideas and inspiration, I got distracted 🤣, It's very hard not to

You were a creature of habit. Always have been. So it didn’t take long for everyone to learn them. One particular habit was your nightly trip to Molly’s. The firefighter bar. You met Herrmann in the ER one day and you became friends. He was quite possibly the sweetest person you’d ever met. He was also the only one who knew your full past.

You weren’t always here in Chicago nor were you aware of your brothers, Will and Jay. Up until 9 months ago you didn’t know that they existed. You were an orphan, or at least that’s what you were always told and you had no reason to think otherwise. But sure enough, after a trip to Chicago and one freak accident that took you to the ER, you found them. Well one. Your older brother Will. How he found out, you still didn’t know but he did. Shortly after, you met Jay, who apparently is your twin brother.

You spent as much time with them as possible before leaving for your college graduation, promising to visit. Little did you know that they were coming back with you. You didn’t find out until they “dropped you off” at the airport the next day but with bags.

“You think we’d miss our little sister’s graduation?” Will asked smiling warmly.

"Seriously?" you asked, your face lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning.

Will chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Of course. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

As soon as your flight number was called, you all boarded the plane, excitement bubbling under the surface. You couldn't believe it. Just a week ago, you thought you'd be walking across the stage to receive your degree with no one in the crowd cheering for you. But now, you were going to have two people there, and not just anyone—your brothers.

As you settled into your seat, you glanced over at Will and Jay, who were chatting animatedly about the plans for the weekend. The reality of the situation finally hit you, and felt a smile creeping up your face. You'd spent so much of your life moving from place to place, rarely feeling like you truly belonged anywhere. But now, it felt like you finally did belong.

When the plane landed, you turned to your brothers with a smile. "I'll head home and change, and then I'll meet you both at the hotel with my husband," you said, still riding the high of excitement from the journey.

They nodded, and after a quick hug and a promise to catch up soon, you headed off towards your apartment. You didn’t live so far away, so you decided to walk. As you walked up the driveway, you noticed your husband's car was there. A small, happy smile crossed your face.

You unlocked the front door and stepped inside, calling out a cheerful greeting. "I'm home!"

But there was no response. The house was eerily quiet, and an uneasy feeling began to settle in your stomach. You walked through the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the silence. As you approached the bedroom door, you noticed it was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, your eyes widened in shock.

There, on the bed, was your husband—tangled up with another woman. It was almost too surreal to process at first; your mind struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. They both looked up, startled by your sudden entrance. Your husband quickly pulled away from the woman, but he didn't seem particularly shocked or apologetic. Instead, he simply stared at you. In fact, a look of mild annoyance was plastered on his face.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you—betrayal, anger, sadness. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. You'd been so excited to share your news with him, and now this?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I'll be back for my things," you said, your voice surprisingly steady despite earthquake of emotions rattling inside you. You didn't wait for a response. You turned on your heel and walked out, grabbing your car keys on the way out.

As you got into your car, your hands were trembling. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you wiped them away and started the engine. You drove to the hotel in a daze, trying to shake the image of your husband and the other woman from your mind. How you didn’t have an accident was beyond you.

Needless to say, they were furious when you showed up at their hotel room in tears. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but as soon as the elevator doors closed behind you, the dam broke. The tears came fast and hard, and you struggled to keep your sobs quiet as you rode up to their floor.

When you reached their room and knocked, Will opened the door, his smile fading instantly when he saw your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The warmth of his embrace made you feel better, even if just for a moment.

Jay quickly crossed the space between you, "What happened?" he asked, his voice tense.

You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. The pain was too raw, the words too painful. Instead, you just shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. Will held you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

"He... he was with someone else," you finally managed to choke out between sobs, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's face turned red with anger, his fists clenching at his sides. "What?" he nearly shouted; his voice filled with fury. He took a step towards the door, clearly ready to confront your husband. "I'm gonna kill him," he muttered under his breath.

Will, still holding you close, turned to block Jay's path. "No, Jay," he said firmly, "This isn't the time. She needs us."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," you said, more tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you—you were now possibly homeless. You felt the weight of everything, slowly crushing you. But you needn’t worry about anything.

Jay offered you a place to stay and went back with you to collect the rest of your belongings. He was also there when you filed for divorce. Despite his assurances that he didn't mind you staying with him, you started looking for a place of your own. When you thought you had found one, Jay insisted it "wasn't safe enough" for you. So, almost nine months later, you’re still living with him. It had been a long time since you had a brother around, and you'd forgotten how much of a nuisance they could be—but you loved it.

You're now a nurse at Gaffney, the same hospital where Will works. While you love being near your brothers, the ER can be incredibly stressful, and when it gets overwhelming, you find yourself at Molly's, sitting on your usual barstool. Herrmann could tell just by the look on your face which usual you needed. You had two orders: one for a good day and one for a bad one. Clearly, today was the latter.

You smiled as the drink appeared in front of you. "Thanks, Hermie," you said, picking up the shot glass and downing it in one go, welcoming the familiar burn.

"No problem, kid," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head, offering a grateful smile. He casually draped the towel over his shoulder and placed another drink in front of you, a glass of coke with double vodka, "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

You nodded once more as he moved to serve other patrons. You let your eyes leave their place on the glass and wander around the bar. Many people were regulars, in fact all of them were except for one.

He caught your eye immediately. He was quite possibly the hottest person you’d ever laid your eyes on. He was definitely older than you, by about 20 years but damn you didn’t care. His short, neatly trimmed hair was greying slightly but it only made him sexier. As you continue to admire him you could feel yourself being pulled from reality as your eyes trace his strong jawline. They then made their way further south to where the luckiest pieces of clothing hugs him. Especially the leather jacket. You love leather jackets. You’re not sure why but when they are wrapped around men like that, do you need a reason?

He must have felt your eyes on him because his flicked over to them. You quickly avert your eyes back to your glass, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks and you hope that it’s dark enough so no one can see.

You want to talk to him, but you feel you need some more liquid courage. You continued to drink your double vodka and coke and when you finished you signalled for a refill but just coke this time. You picked up the drink and made your way over to the man and sat beside him.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before,” you said, trying to make yourself sound like you weren’t completely freaking out on the inside.

“It’s not my usual place,” he replied with the deepest gravelly voice you had ever heard. You had to squeeze your thighs shut because of the effect it had on you.

Nevertheless, you try and ignore the feeling and held your hand out to him, “I’m (y/n)” you said with a small smile.

“Henry” he replied, placing his hand in yours. The rough skin on his fingertips felt good against your soft skin. You couldn’t help but think where else they’d feel good.

You both talked for a while as more people started to filter in. It started to get really loud and you wouldn��t mind going somewhere private with Henry. So you asked, “Hey, wanna go somewhere quieter,” you bite your lip hoping he says yes... And he does.

The drive to his was quiet, I left you to your thoughts. This wasn’t what you intended when you left the apartment tonight but hey apparently sex is a great stress reliever and you have a feeling you are about to be well taken care of.

You shoot Jay a quick text to let him know you are okay and as you press send you stopped. He’s a gentleman and opens the door for you and holds his hand out for you to take.

You take it and you get out of the car, following him into the house, his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards it.

The next few moments are a blur. As soon as the door shut, his mouth was on yours. The kiss started off tender but slowly got more passionate. You certainly weren’t complaining. He slowly guided you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. You had no idea where in the house you were until the back of your legs hit the cool sheets. His hands moved from your face to the zipper on your dress pulling it down swiftly. He slid the small straps down your arms as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. The dress dropped from your frame and pooled at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear. When you undid the last button, you slowly removed both the shirt and the leather jacket. You let your hands follow the garments until they landed on his belt. Your mouths were still attached. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue and he could taste the vodka on yours. You continue fumbling with his jeans until thy joined your dress. His hands glide down your body until they reach your ass, you moan as he gives them a firm squeeze before lifting you up.

He turned and sat on the bed, so you were straddling him. You could feel him beneath you and you couldn’t help but grind against him. When he groaned you felt your pussy yip as if it had just been shocked. Was anything this man did not sexy?

Your tongues continue to battle each other as your wet core rides his clothed hardness. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood only to remove your panties. He removed his boxers quickly before you climbed back on top of him, wasting no time sinking down on him.

“fuck* you breathed, the word falling from your lips as your head falls back.

His hands hold your shoulders, slamming you down harder on him. You were already seeing stars and you had barely started.

His lips attached themselves to your neck, licking and nibbling at the soft flesh. They then trailed lower towards your still covered breasts. He kissed the valley between but made no movement to take off the piece of fabric in his way. So you reached behind you and unclasped it, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

He smirked against your skin taking one in his mouth, sucking hard on the sensitive nub, his hand played with the other, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Then he switched, giving them equal attention.

Without warning, he stood up and chucked you onto the bed, leaving you feeling cold and empty. Your hand went to your clit to give you something as he climbed towards you. Eyes locked on you as if you were his prey.

His hand slowly runs up your thigh until it reaches your hand. He looks at you and you move your hand and rest it on your stomach. His hand replaces yours. Teasing you. One finger gliding through the lips, dipping it ever so slightly into your wet hole.

“Please” you whimpered as his fingers continue to tease you.

With a smirk, he enters you fully, making you arch off the bed. He starts to move in and out, your body begging for more. You can’t help but let out a low moan that echoes through the room.

“Oh, baby, you like that?” he whispers in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod your head, unable to form words as pleasure overtakes you.

He slammed into you, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the darkness. You dig your nails into the bed, trying to hold on as he fucks you into oblivion.

You’re not sure how long it goes on, but you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

And just as you’re about to go over, he pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, pushing your legs apart. You know what’s coming next, and the few second wait is almost too much to handle. He slams into you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you, over and over again.

You bite the pillow to muffle your screams as he takes you roughly, your body trembling with every thrust. You can feel yourself about to cum, and you know it’s going to be the best fucking orgasm of your life.

Finally, with one last, hard thrust, you do. Your orgasm rips through you like a tornado in a trailer park, leaving you a trembling mess on the bed. Henry follows shortly after, his own groan of pleasure muffled against your neck.

The two of you collapse onto the bed, both panting and sweaty. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before you feel him roll over and wrap an arm around you.

The next morning you open your eyes, and you don’t recognise your surroundings. Your eyes squeeze shut as the bright light burns them and you become aware of the arm draped across your bare waist. Its then you remember the events from last night and it wasn’t just an amazing dream.

As your mind replays the sex a tone begins to sound. You knew it wasn’t your phone. The arm removed itself from your body and the sound stopped shortly after.

You turned to look at him, “hi,” your voice is small and unsure. You hadn’t done anything like this before so you didn’t know the protocol.

“Hey... I uh... Got to get to work,” he said removing the covers and going to get changed, “I’ll take you to get your car,”

“Thank you,” you smiled as you grab your outfit off the floor and quickly threw it on. You got your phone out your bag and checked the time, “shit,”

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked turning around as he continued buttoning up his shirt.

“Nothing, just my brother might have left for work already and he hasn’t given me a spare key,” you groaned inwardly. You couldn’t show up at the hospital looking like this.

As soon as you both were ready, as promised, Henry took you back to Molly’s to get your car. Much to your disappointment, plans were not made to see each other again.

You got in your car and drove as fast as you could without breaking the law but when you got there it was indeed too late. Jay had already gone to work. You got back in your car and headed to his workplace. What a first impression you were going to make. You haven’t met any of Jay’s colleagues and dressed in last night’s outfit and possibly smelling like sex.

You took a deep breath as you walked through the doors and up the steps to find a huge desk in front of you. You watched as the woman gave a sarcastic reply to a couple of patrol officers and you tried to stifle a laugh but failed. Her eyes flashed over to you, “Can I help you?” she asked in a tone that would probably send the uniforms running but you just give her your sweetest smile.

“I’m looking for my brother, Jay Halstead,”

“Oh, so you’re the mini-Halstead,” she said with the same tone, “Lets hope you aren’t like the other two,”

“Well, I’m a female,” you shrugged “Thats a difference,”

She pointed to another set of stairs leading up to a gate, “He’s up there,” she said resting her hand on the button waiting to buzz you in.

As soon as you hear it buzz, you open the gate and head up the rest of the steps. Jay spotted you before you got to the top.

“Look who decided to show up,” he called out. Everyone in the room turned to look at you and you kinda felt a little exposed. They probably thought you were a prostitute or something.

“Jay, I don’t have time for this,” you said walking over to his desk, your palm held out ready to receive the keys, “I’ve got to go to work,”

He fished the keys from his pocket and tossed them up in the air, a smug grin on his face, “Come home at a reasonable time then,”

“Or you could have gotten me a key cut, asshole,” you said rolling your eyes as you put the keys in your bag. When you looked back at your brother, he was looking at you funny, “What?”

“Where did you get that jacket?” he asked pointing to the leather jacket Henry gave you. You had forgotten you were wearing it.

You shrugged, “Just a friend,” you replied nonchalantly. Jay went to say something else when a voice spoke from behind you. A familiar one. You turned and sure enough, there he was, “Henry?”

It didn’t take a detective to connect the dots. You had slept with your brother’s boss. You hadn’t meant to. You had no idea who he was. But the thing is... You want to do it again. You want to fuck him again.

[A/N 2.0] Part 2?

[hapfish]

@traumas-tmntober-2024's Risetober 2024 Day 4: Desperation!

another firefight by @remedyturtles fanart. totally obsessed, got to rave about you to taizi earlier too im just so invested

again, such an amazing fic but pls read the tags before starting. this art only had mild blood so i didnt hide it liek the last one but if i missed and trigger warnings in the tags please let me know and i will add them to this post! spoilers for chapter 15 i think

[saveyourblood]

The Exit (Evan Buckley x Reader)

Summary: “She isn’t as good as me,” you say. It isn’t a question. It isn’t even a taunt — it’s a simple fact. The one where you and Buck were together, now you're not, and you're cycling through the five stages of grief.

Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: mild violence, toxic(ish) relationship

“There’s no way he moved on that quickly.”

Denial. 

Hen just looks at you. You take another sip of your drink. 

She successfully convinced you to go out after work for the first time in months. Unfortunately for her, that doesn’t mean you’re good company. Your only plan for the night is to get so drunk that you can get his face out of your head. 

“It’s like I always say: Men ain’t shit.”

“You literally never say that.”

“I don’t have to, because they ain’t shit,” Hen grins. 

You try to smile. God, you wish you could. You’re pretty sure that night stitched the corners of your mouth into a permanent frown. 

“I just can’t believe it,” you mutter. You signal for the bartender. 

Hen sighs. “Look, babe, there’s no way that relationship is going to last. She’s a rebound.” 

“You think he’d introduce us to his rebound?”

“The whole point of a rebound is that you don’t know it’s a rebound,” Hen explains. “Buck thinks he loves her because he still loves you, and that love doesn’t just… disappear. It has to go somewhere.”

“Why can’t I have it?” 

Hen sighs again, a sad smile on her face. 

“Maybe I was just a really shitty partner,” you cede. “Maybe if I could be better, we could be better.” 

Bargaining. 

Hen’s in the middle of a sip, but she shakes her head anyway. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“I don’t even know what happened. I think that’s the worst part. I mean, here’s this man that I think I’ve been in love with for the last three years, and the second I mention the word ‘marriage,’ he runs for the hills.”

“He’s got some personal shit to work through,” Hen says simply. “Shit that you can’t fix.” 

“But why couldn’t he let me at least help him? Isn’t that what a partner is supposed to do?” 

Hen plays with the napkin on the bar in front of her. “Buck’s never had a real partner — not until you came into his life. I think underneath the macho firefighter charade is a boy who’s just… scared of how he feels.”

“He doesn’t know how he feels,” you scoff. 

The bartender wordlessly fills the empty shot glass in front of you. You take it the second he’s done pouring it, wincing as it burns your throat. 

“Maybe that’s what he’s scared of,” Hen says softly. 

“He can’t be that scared: he has a girlfriend,” you retort bitterly. You push your empty shot glass around aimlessly before quietly adding, “I’m so tired of feeling this way.”

Depression.

You won’t be reaching Acceptance anytime soon, so for now, you cycle through the other stages of grief… except for Anger. 

You and Anger either don’t get along or get along far too well. You and Anger is either tequila and lime or tequila and a goddamn blowtorch. Anger gets you everything you want or it ruins it, and there’s no in-between. You’re not friends, not even close; Anger is your shadow, nipping on your heels, ready to strike in the right lighting. 

You look over your shoulder at the pool table. Buck and Eddie are taking turns shooting, and off to the side sits Taylor. 

You don’t get what Buck sees in her, yet you absolutely get it, and it’s an infuriating paradox. She’s a news broadcaster, but she looks like she could be a model. Where you have scars and curves, Taylor is clear and straight-edged. She flips her long red hair over one shoulder, and even under the shitty bar lamp, it shines. 

It’s the right lighting. 

You push yourself away from the counter and hop out of your seat. You march across the bar, far too steady on your feet considering how much you’ve drank. It’s as if Anger, which usually follows behind you, is propping you up and pushing you forward. 

Taylor sees you first, because of course she does. She smiles a little as her eyebrows furrow. It’s juvenile, but you kind of want to punch her in the mouth and see what her perfect little smile would look like with a fresh painting of blood over it. 

“Is everything alright?” She asks innocently. 

“Yeah, just… Buck, can I talk to you? Outside?” 

Buck, who’s lining up a shot, looks up. His mouth opens slightly before he forces it closed, his jaw clenching in the process. He quickly shoots, the cue ball bouncing off the side of the table before hitting another ball. He doesn’t even look to see if he made the shot; he stares at you the entire time. 

He stands up straight, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah.”

Buck leads the way. If Anger wasn’t following you so closely, you’d feel Taylor’s gaze burning a hole in your back. 

It’s cold outside. Not unseasonably, considering it’s February. Hell, it’s not even actually cold; you grew up on the East Coast, so where you’re from, winter chills you to the bone. Here in LA, winter is more like a breath of fresh air from the summer's unrelenting heat. 

Buck crosses his arms over his chest. He’s from the East Coast too, so you know he isn’t cold.

“What’s up?” He asks.

You laugh. Like, actually laugh. You haven’t done it in so long that you almost forgot how it sounded, how it feels. You missed the rumble in your chest and the shaking of your shoulders. You missed laughing, and you missed laughing with him. 

Buck isn’t laughing, though. He’s just staring at you. 

“You know what? Nevermind,” you chuckle, turning on your heel. 

You take a few steps down the sidewalk before Buck calls after you. “Where are you going? You’re the one who wanted to talk!”

You stop dead in your tracks, any trace of a smile leaving your face. 

Buck shifts behind you. He’s close enough to hear but not close enough to feel. 

“Does she know?” You ask, back still turned to him. 

He shifts again. You let the silence deafen you both.

“...It hasn’t come up.”

You laugh again. It isn’t genuine this time. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

You try walking away again, but Buck grabs your arm. It feels like his fingertips are made of fire. You spin around to face him, causing him to let go. His jaw is set again. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and pushing him against the brick wall of the neighboring building. 

Anger. 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me,” you growl. “You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

Buck keeps fucking staring at you. He raises his chin a little, but he doesn’t try to move your hands. 

“You are so full of shit, you know that?” You continue, shaking your hands a little before letting go of his shirt. 

“You’re drunk.”

He can smell it on your breath. He can’t possibly know you well enough to know you’d never say any of this sober. Because sure, you were together for three years, but you’re not together anymore. One of the reasons for that has to be that he doesn’t know a damn thing about you. 

“You’re still full of shit,” you repeat. Even you can tell that it isn’t as convincing this time. You take a step back; being this close to him is making your stomach turn. 

Buck pushes off the wall, towering over you. “How? How am I full of shit?” 

“You’re a liar,” you say, tilting your head up to stare at him. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

“A liar?” Buck challenges, getting closer to you. 

Anger. Anger. Anger. 

You put your hands on his chest and push him against the wall again. You aren’t strong enough to manhandle him — to a certain extent, he’s letting you push him around. That pisses you off even more. 

“You lied to me for three fucking years straight,” you hiss. 

“How?”

“You told me you loved me.”

Your voice wavers, and you can’t stand the sound of it. You clench your jaw and take in a breath, which you let out shakily. No fucking way are you going to let yourself cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve your tears. 

“You told me you loved me, and when I wanted more, you ran,” you say, pausing to swallow. “You told me you loved me for three years, and not even three months later, you’re showing off your new girlfriend.”

If only for a second, you swear his vision drops to your lips. Buck goes right back to staring at you, though, and you see his jaw pop — he’s getting angry. 

Good.

“Are you ever gonna tell her?” You challenge. You lean in, the gap between you growing shorter every second.

His jaw doesn’t relax. 

A chuckle escapes you. Of course he isn’t. 

You put your hands on the wall, inches from Buck’s waist on both sides. You lean in, turning your lips to his ear. “Remember this, Evan Buckley: everywhere she touches you, I was there first.” 

Buck grabs your face with one hand, and your brain short-circuits. Your chin is tucked between his thumb and index finger, the rest of his fingers resting on your cheek and neck. He pulls you back first, then turns you around until it’s you who’s pressed against the wall. 

Then, he kisses you. His hand stays where it is while the other pins your hip in place. The kiss doesn’t feel like it used to; it’s somehow worse yet better than when you were together. There’s no trace of love in the way his tongue slides across yours or the way he takes your lip in between his teeth. Everything about this is so rough, so raw, so needy.

Eventually, Buck brakes away but keeps his forehead pressed against yours so hard you think it might leave a bruise. He huffs out a few breaths that you gratefully inhale. 

“She isn’t as good as me,” you say. It isn’t a question.  It isn’t even a taunt — it’s a simple fact. Three months ain’t got shit on three years. 

“You just had to go and fuck things up, didn’t you?” He mumbles, voice gravelly. 

He’s kissing you again. Your head is fuzzy, and you know it isn’t from the booze. He’s pressing into you, but you manage to snake a hand in between your waists to palm him. He’s half-hard, and when you make contact, he lets out a low groan into your mouth. You swallow it whole. 

His words finally register. You squeeze him, probably a little too hard. He groans again, finally moving his hand from your face to the wall behind you for leverage. 

“I fucked things up?” you challenge quietly. Your hand hovers over Buck’s crotch, and he leans closer, desperate for any connection. “You’re the one who ended things.”

“You’re the one who wanted to change things,” Buck argues. 

His head dips, and he starts to kiss your neck. You let out a small sound at the sensation, biting your bottom lip to quiet yourself. You’re still pissed at him, but you continue palming him through his pants, which earns you another groan. 

“I brought up the idea of a future, and you ran,” you say between heavy breaths. “You’re more scared of change than you are being alone. It’s pathetic.” 

Buck bites the skin above your collarbone in protest to your words. You wince; it’ll definitely leave a mark. 

The weird thing about your relationship with Buck is that it never really felt like it ended. At least, that’s how you took things. One second, you were happy, and the next, you were moving into a studio apartment that wasn’t his. There was no funeral, no eulogy, just a loss so deep that it gave you whiplash. You didn’t bury your relationship under six feet of dirt; you buried it under six feet of snow. You buried it alive. And the snow is melting. 

Buck’s hand sneaks under your waistband, and it’s as if the alcohol in your bloodstream burns off. You’re left sober, staring at a sickening reality: this is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Even though it feels so fucking right, it is so fucking wrong. 

Both of your hands find his shoulders. You push him away, not as roughly as before, not even with a lot of force. Really, all it takes for him to pull away is the change in your demeanor. 

“You have a girlfriend,” you whisper.  

You still don’t think it’s fair that he got to move on so quickly. Buck is flying down the freeway and left you at an exit miles back. He’s moving on way faster and way better than you ever could. It doesn’t feel fair. But then again, it doesn’t matter what you feel. Because there is no ‘you and Buck’ anymore: it’s Buck and Taylor, and somewhere in the backdrop, there’s you. 

Your hand finds his wrist, which you pull away slowly. You press your lips together, then let out a sigh. “You should probably get back to her.”

Acceptance.

[gardenofnoah]

i pulled you from the sea to hear you howl

note: i wrote this as a love letter to myself, because things are hard and i needed something soft. i hope this silly little story is a warm hug to you, too. <3 wc: no idea, i wrote this in drafts. my guess is around 8k tags: bakugou x reader, soulmate au (mild fantasy? idk), no quirk (bkg is a firefighter/first responder, reader is a baker), fated strangers to lovers, mentions of drinking (not unhealthily), meddling friends (cute though), sappy romance, smut (mdni)

Once, when you were five, the wind slipped in through the crack of your bedroom window. It whispered through the linen fibers of the thin drapes, a friendly ghost taking shape under a sheet. There, by the sea, the nightly breeze was as expected as the rise of the sun each morning. But on this night, the cool, coastal air brushed over your body with a murmur of something different—a gentle beckoning toward an embrace both ancient and yet known to you somehow.

Pulled into the dreamland with the brine of the ocean on your lips, the air was a warm quilt over your shoulders, shimmering with the hum of crickets and tree frogs hidden by the dark of night. You found yourself in a clearing, illuminated by the shining face of the moon, larger than life and swelled to its peak above your head. So opposite was this dense wood—absent was the marshy swell of the sea, the crunch of saturated sand beneath your feet—but you felt no fear. You’d no reason to know this place and yet it was a welcoming back—not home but older than that, like the marrow in your bones from your greatest grandmother.

Each step forward was a whisper to the webs of roots and mycelium twisting deep into the dirt below you, each one echoed back to you in taps against the soles of your feet. It propelled you forward, your tiny feet stomping with gusto as a backtrack to the sounds of your giggles, this conversation with the earth that only you and She were privy to.

You reached the perimeter of the clearing and pushed forward still, thick brambles of the wood curving outward, welcoming you in and clearing a path of stardust, iridescent in the moonlight. Deeper into the forest you went, the pad of your footfalls against the soil growing louder and then louder still, like the rhythmic strike of palms against a goblet drum. By the time you reached the source of the sound you felt the beat under your skin, thundering through the networks of sinew and nerves that kept you upright and pushing forward. The path opened into another glade, this one smaller and hugged tight by a ring of willow trees.

There was no drum to be found, though—in fact, the only other apparition in the meadow was that of a wolf before you.

Five years old and only knowing a life of brackish water pounding against steep cliffs and secret, sandy coves, you'd no reason to be able to identify the beast before you, and yet you were certain. Coat of lustrous gold by the light of the moon, it merely blinked its bleary, crimson eyes as you approached, none too cautious as you should have been. All the sound around you—the drumming, the crickets, the tree frogs, the whispers of the wind—quieted with the presence of the wolf. All that remained was the gentle sigh of breath from your new companion, who you knew, somehow, was just that.

But as you finally were close enough to feel the puff of heat with each breath from the wolf’s snout, you found it to be no wolf at all; you sunk your fingers into the thick, silky fur only to watch as feathered, inky wings unfurled to a great height from either side of the creature’s spine. The darkness cradled you then—downy feathers curling into a shield above your head as you settled between the maw and the chest of the wild thing, tame as a house cat in your presence.

You felt the beat of a heart and a rumbling against your back as you curled into its warmth. Your eyes grew heavy again, lulled by the chuff of the wolf that deepened with every stroke of your fingers through its coat. You whimpered, fighting against the pull of the inevitable day and wanting to stay here, if only a little longer.

“Not yet,” you heard, unsure even now if the beast had spoken the words or imparted them onto you, raspy and deep, “but soon.”

.

..

…

The absence of light in the sky and the knowledge that it was a Saturday meant little to you as you dragged yourself from the warmth of your sheets. Truthfully, you rarely needed an alarm clock these days—not when the smell of baking sourdough dutifully wafted up through your apartment each morning.

You slid your feet into your slippers, jamming them a little further inside on each trudging step to the bathroom. Toes curling into the fleece lining, you surveyed the damage you'd done in your sleep—hair in varying states of matted disarray around your head, and deep, darkened indents on one side of your face. You'd slept like the dead—dreams muted and indistinct, as they always had been. All except for that one.

No amount of taming could fix the rat's nest atop your head, but you tried anyway—ignoring the snag of knots as you forced every strand you could into some semblance of order, tight and secure on the crown of your head. You brushed your teeth and washed your face on autopilot, your mind already downstairs and 12 steps ahead.

Still in your slippers, each wooden step creaked its loving good morning to you until you reached the landing, shoving at the heavy wooden door with both hands, instantly warming at the sight revealed to you behind it.

Aiya stood at the great brick oven, more inside of it than not as she poked and prodded at the smoldering logs toward its opposite end. The smell of yeast and heat hit you like a wave as it permeated its way into every fiber of your being. It didn't matter that it was 5:30 in the morning—no one was as lucky as you in this moment.

"You'll get stuck one of these days."

Aiya swore, backing carefully out of the mouth of the oven to face you fully, her dark eyes already narrowed into a glare.

"You scared the hell out of me. Walk heavier."

You grinned, nudging her with your shoulder as you moved past her, deeper into the kitchen. Butcher's block already floured, thanks to your counterpart.

"We don't have any delivery orders today, yeah?"

"Nope," Aiya called, still fighting with the flames inside its brick container, "just a regular ol' baking day."

You hummed, scanning over the recipe cards pinned to the drywall in front of you—all recipes you'd sourced from years of harassing the community grandmothers and scouring local thrift stores. You settled on one of your favorites: a simple rye loaf, earthy and malty and beautifully sour. It was a best seller for a reason.

"I didn't hear you get up this morning," you murmured, grabbing the light rye flour off the wooden shelf above your head.

Aiya snorted, resting the metal poker against the brick of the oven and making her way toward you. "I don't know how you could've. I could've jumped on you from the top rope and you'd have slept through it."

She bumped her hip into yours, a silent request to shift so she could open the cooler below you, under the counter top. You did this dance every morning—the small size of the kitchen inconsequential to the knowledge of being so in synch with each other.

Despite feeling as if you'd known her in another life, Aiya had only entered this one in its second half, with you serendipitously knocking her clean off her feet at an early morning farmers' market, not quite awake and distracted by the merchant grinding flour in a portable mill. She'd been focused on the same thing, and your shared love of baking started a friendship that quickly became inseparable.

The decision to open a bakery came from an evening of drunken idealism—giggling and plotting the rest of your lives together, sighing over a possibility that felt too far fetched, even with the wine.

"I mean," you'd started, sitting back into the threadbare cushions of the couch you'd hauled in off the sidewalk a few years before, back when you'd moved her into your spare bedroom, deciding you needed it filled with her light. "We could just. Do it?"

Aiya snorted into her glass, whining when red splashed back in her face. "Damn. Right in the eye."

"I mean, why not?" you pressed, feeling emboldened, "the space downstairs is open. And our credit is...good enough? For a loan?"

Aiya ran a sleeve covered hand over her face, blinking bleary eyes at you in the dim of your living room. "I'm with you. I probably shouldn't be? But I am."

The rest were pages in your history—some less fondly remembered than others, but ultimately, you opened your bakery, right below your shared apartment overlooking the sea. It was dreamy, a thing you never could've imagined would turn into your reality. But here you were.

So you spent your mornings like this—waking up to the smell of rising bread, covered in flour and sweat before the sun came up. Over the years you'd become something of a staple in the community, and you were grateful for the assurance that your regulars would show up dutifully every time you flipped the little sign to 'open'.

Three hours later, you had a tray full of warm, oval shaped loaves to put on their wooden display shelves—all lined up like books in a library behind the serving counter. You placed them on their racks just as the morning sun streamed in through the front windows—your favorite part of the morning.

"Hana coming in this morning?" you called over your shoulder, making your way toward the front door to flip the sign and open for the day.

"Think so," Aiya made her way out to the front to join you, untying her apron and hanging it on the hook next to yours. The saloon style doors clanged shut behind her—a sound you never got tired of hearing. It reminded you of your great grandmother's kitchen.

Hana was Aiya's kid sister—she'd gotten into some trouble in the last few months, and you'd offered her a part-time job manning the counter to keep her on the straight and narrow. To your surprise, she was really good at it. Her grades came up shortly after she'd started, and although you'd given her the option, she kept coming back.

You returned behind the counter, adjusting and readjusting the wall of breads while Aiya filled the pastry cooler. The bell of the door rang out, signaling the start of the day.

"Good morning!" you called over your shoulder, pulling the metal cooking racks out from under your now-cooled rye loaves. "How are y—"

Turning around to face your first customer, your grip went slack—your racks clattering to the floor. You'd barely registered the pain of one bouncing off your slipper-clad toes, because in your doorway was your wolf—looking just as astounded to see you.

"What the—you good?"

Aiya bent down to pick up the racks, returning them to your still outstretched hands. She looked from you, to your visitor, who was a—man. A man, standing there before you, his definitely human hands shoved inside jean pockets that human people with human limbs wore. But—you knew.

It was his eyes, first—such an unusual shade of carmine that somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world to you. But then you noticed the hair—shooting out in all directions in the most familiar shade of gold—the exact shade of your wolf. It was him—it had to be—

You shook your head—this was insane.

"Sorry about that," you chuckled, fighting to shake off the momentary lapse in reality that you had to have just experienced, "I, um—yeah. What can I get you?"

The man in front of you blinked—wide, achingly familiar eyes still displaying the shell-shock that you felt.

"Just a—uh. Rye."

You fought through the second blow to your nerves, fingers stabbing at the register screen too hard, because—his voice. It was the voice, the one you'd carried inside your heart for the last 23 years.

You rang him up on autopilot, wrapping the loaf in its crinkly brown paper, your mind screaming at you not to drop it as you handed it over the counter. You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his fingertips brushed yours—it was all you could do not to wrench your hand back like you'd been burned. You forced a smile, though you didn't have to see your face to know it wasn't convincing.

"Thank you," you compelled yourself to say, "have a good one."

He nodded, turning swiftly on his heels. The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind him—giving you permission to slump against the counter, forehead to the wood as you fought for control over your own heart rate.

"What," Aiya drawled, peeking out from behind the kitchen doors, "was that all about?"

.

..

...

You sighed, flipping the door sign to 'closed'. You felt no satisfaction in hearing the lock click—not after this morning.

You'd never told Aiya about the dream—because why would you have? Kids had weird dreams—that was like, the cornerstone of being a kid, probably. It was weird that you had fixated on it, all these years. You were pretty sure you shouldn't have been able to remember it at all, with what stage of development your brain had been in, much less with such aching clarity.

Trudging back up the stairs to your apartment, you only half-heard the gist of Aiya's chittering—undeterred by your refusal to tell her what had affected you so suddenly this morning, and unconvinced by your half-true excuse of "I thought I knew him from somewhere". Only when you'd gone nonverbal did she drop it, but you had a hunch that her silence was strategic—it would come up again, undoubtedly.

You crawled into bed far earlier than appropriate, but you were wiped—you'd wracked your brain longer today than you ever had, trying to identify the meaning in all of this. The back and forth of okay but that was totally the wolf—bird—thing that visited me in my sleep when I was five, to at what point should I start considering psychiatric help was exhausting and giving you a bit of whiplash. Maybe there was no meaning—maybe your budding subconscious had leant into its creativity when you were small, and now the universe had just randomly dropped the human embodiment of the thing that had stuck with you for the last two decades at your doorstep.

You didn't believe that, though—not if you were really honest with yourself. You had—for better or worse—not been hardened by the state of being a human trying to forge a life in an unforgiving world, and you still believed that things happened for a reason. Which did not actually feel like a good quality to possess in this moment, because normal, jaded people would probably not sit up in bed and fixate on if their customer was actually a mystical creature. But here you were.

You reached for your nightstand—relying on muscle memory more than sight to seek out the thing that had always served to calm your racing mind. Tattered from over the years and embarrassingly obvious now, your hand curls around the belly of your stuffed dog—it's matted fur dulled to a dusty beige. It had been your first stuffed animal when you were born, and posed a striking resemblance to your wolf, though you supposed you could see him in anything if you tried hard enough, with your serendipity-loving mush brain.

Window open, the ocean breeze brought in a salty draft that flirted with your curtains and tickled your face. Tugging on a pointed ear, your eyes drifted closed as you drew in breath after deep breath, settling deeper into your bed. Crushed velvet under the pad of your thumb, you thought of the sound of the forest again—and what it would feel like to step onto that mossy ground now.

.

..

...

You were no more desensitized to his presence when he came back.

In the kitchen, you heard the bell clink off the door as it swung open.

You stiffened, like instead of the outside breeze something like knowing curled at your skin and raised goosebumps.

"Well hi there, stranger." You could hear the shit-eating grin on Aiya's face even behind the wall. "What'll it be today?"

Despite all of your brain's attempts to keep your feet firmly planted where they were, they carried you out to the register anyway, feeling nothing but especially foolish at the way you had no real reason to be out there.

"Good morning," you told him, voice quiet and smile still a little wobbly, but mostly recovered this time.

He nodded at you, a clipped thing that should've felt rude but only served to flip your stomach.

Aiya made no attempt to disguised the way she openly gawked at you both, curiosity morphing into something plotting as she plopped another rye loaf into a bag, dropped it on the counter, and walked back into the kitchen without a word. Leaving you and your stranger in silence.

It was only a minute before it felt oppressive. "I haven't seen you in before this week," a carefully worded half-truth, "you new to the area?"

He let out a grunt that you took as an affirmative. "New to the coast."

You hummed, trying to feign nonchalance, typing nonsense numbers into the screen in front of you just to have a reason not to look at him.

"Well," you smiled with what you were certain was too much teeth, sliding the bag toward him, "welcome to town."

"This your place?" he asked, careful to wait until your hands were off of it to reach for it this time.

Your smile was genuine this time. "Yeah. Mine and Aiya's, for a few years now." You told him your name, and only the important points of the shop's back story. "It's my baby. I'm always grateful when new folks find it."

You weren't sure if the drop in his shoulders was a trick of the light. "S'good," he muttered, nodding to the bag in front of him. The small praise curled around your heart.

"I appreciate that. What's your name?"

Florid eyes met your own, then, and their hardness should've been off-putting. Should've been.

"Katsuki," he said softly, breaking your gaze to reach into his pocket and drop a few bills into your tip jar.

"Well thanks, Katsuki," you suddenly felt a little bashful about having the jar at all, "I'll see you soon?"

He was nearly turned around by the time you saw him nod, here and then gone like he'd been the time before.

The saloon door creaked behind you - and you knew your best friend had been pressed against it for the entirety of that conversation.

"Okay," she started, huddling next to you, head titled toward yours conspiratorially, "you have got to tell me what's going on with him."

You sighed, looking around the shop. Empty for now, but there was no way to tell her any of what you were feeling without sounding insane, so there was no such thing as too little privacy.

"C'mon," you muttered, towing her by the elbow into the kitchen, all the way to the back wall.

"Out with it," she grinned, leaning against the counter and not worried at all about the flour now coating the underside of her sleeve.

So you told her. All of the details about the original dream from so long ago — the wolf, it's brilliant coat and inky feathers. The voice you heard, the eyes you now saw peering back at you each time Katsuki made an appearance. There was no stopping the heat that crawled up your neck as you explained your suspicions.

"I feel nuts," you groaned, leaning back against the counter, face in your hands. "This is nuts, right?"

Aiya was oddly silent as she considered it. A minute passed — and another before you started to squirm.

"I mean..." she mumbled, clearly still sliding pieces together in her mind. Her eyes snapped back to yours, bright. "It is. Definitely. But I'm inclined to believe you."

"I am not at all surprised by that."

"Hey," she chided, reaching over to shove at you, "I'm just saying. Stranger things have happened. Not to me. Or anyone I know. But I'm sure they have."

Her rambling made you laugh. She had such a way of telling you you were insane and affirming your insanity all at once.

"He's handsome, though," she grinned at you, far too knowing, "eh?"

"Don't you have something to do?" Groaning, you turned away from her, cheeks burning and unnecessarily grabbing stray pieces of parchment paper off the counter. She snorted, reaching out to squeeze your hip before walking back out to the register.

You let out a breath, sagging against the butcher block. Handsome, yes — unnervingly so.

"Dude!" Aiya screeched, startling you out of your commiserating, "He left like—" a pause, "thirty dollars in here!"

.

..

...

Katsuki returned with some regularity, after that. It was a good two months before you stopped sweating just watching him walk through the door. Longer still to stop the incessant hammer of your heart when you spoke to him.

Even through your nerves, you learned about him. He'd grown up around the deciduous forests inland (a tidbit of information that hit your stomach like a bomb), playing in streams and catching tree frogs. He'd grown up and been trained as a firefighter—eight months ago, he'd come to the coast to complete an emergency medicine certificate, and had decided to stick around.

"So like," you sipped at your tea, letting the warmth settle the lingering shakiness you'd felt since you (very bravely) joined him at his table during a lull between customers, "ambulance rides, IVs, all that?"

He'd taken to ordering something other than rye bread over the last few weeks. It could've had something to do with the way Aiya had started not-so-politely pestering him to order from the brunch menu on Saturday mornings. Until a couple months ago, you did not have a brunch menu.

He shook his head, leaning back in his seat. You felt your gaze slipping to the strain of his black t-shirt against his chest, but the mortification at getting caught kept it trained on his face. Not a bad alternative.

"S'what happens before the ambulance gets there. The idea is to station us at checkpoints in national parks, protected forest areas — places where help ain't as fast to get there. Some asshole ashes a cigarette and starts a forest fire — we go haul his ass outta there and treat the life-threatening stuff so that he's stabilized enough to be transported."

It was the most you'd ever heard him speak in one go, and the most animated you'd seen him to boot. To imagine him out there saving lives sent a wicked little thrill up your spine that you fought hard to ignore.

You brushed the pad of your finger over the rim of your mug, considering it. "So why fire?"

He shrugged, turning his gaze from you to something out the window, squinting toward the coast in the distance. The silence stretched on long enough that you started to fear you'd struck a nerve.

"My old man," he said finally, quieter than before. You watched as he pushed his hands into his pockets, shoulders raised slightly, like he meant to protect himself from a threat that hadn't materialized yet. "Our house caught fire when I was a kid. Electrical. By the time the smoke detector went off, the whole place was burning. Got me and mom out, but," he drew in a breath, held it. You found yourself mirroring him. "Yeah. No good."

You let out the breath and with it went all of the air in the room. You followed his gaze out, down to the ocean, pressing your palm to the ache in your chest.

"You must be proud," you told him, because it felt marginally better than something so meaningless as an apology for such a painful burden to carry.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him puff up a little at that. He hummed, a low, clipped thing. Cleared his throat.

"It's cool that you have a path that's so meaningful to you," you offered, trying to take away some of the strain of the last few minutes. "I always thought I'd be a librarian."

You watched him deflate, watched the wall come down just a hair, as he turned back to you. "What happened?"

You shrugged, taking another sip from your mug. "I hated the research part. Which turns out, is like...the whole part."

That earned you a rare and incredibly disarming hint of a smirk. It felt like Christmas.

"I just like to read. I like storytelling." You tilted your head toward the direction of the street outside. "There was a bookstore I worked in before we bought this place. This little old lady owned it, and when she died, I asked her husband if I could continue to run it." You smiled, drawn into the memory. "She'd told him under no circumstances was he to let me run the store."

Katsuki's eyebrows knitted together, and it was almost boyish enough to feel like a sucker punch to the gut. "Why?"

"She'd heard me talk about baking. She knew that was where my heart was." You rubbed a watermark off the side of your mug with your thumb — your turn to feel a little too vulnerable. "I would've been content there, but she wanted me to have more. No sense in settling for contentment when all I really needed was a kick in the ass to have what I actually wanted."

"I miss her," you said, nearly a whisper, "She taught me a lot. I didn't have someone like that until I met her."

Katsuki was quiet again, his default setting, watching you fiddle with your tea and considering what you'd said.

"Husband still around?"

"Yeah, actually," you grinned at him, relieved to be back in less unguarded territory, "he lives down the street. Hana takes him dinner rolls every Monday." You nodded toward the girl stationed at the counter, who was very obviously trying to eavesdrop unnoticed.

"He calls me every few days. He says he's lonely," you chuckled, shaking your head, "he's not. He's a busybody and he wants to gossip about the neighbors' yappy dog that pees in his yard."

Katsuki let out a surprised little laugh at that — a soft, raspy thing that hit your ears with such devastating sweetness that you weren't sure you could look at him. Blessedly, he looked down at his phone and cursed.

"Thanks for chatting with me," you told him, watching him wrap up the remaining half of whatever egg sandwich Aiya had forced on him this morning and stand from his seat.

He nodded, turning to leave, but paused halfway to the first step. Turning back to you, he said, "Nonfiction or fiction."

Smiling, you tilted your head to the side, confused and amused and assuming his statement to be a question. "Fiction. Not even close."

Nodding again, as serious as if you'd told him an answer far more grave than you had. Without a word, he left — the clang of the door behind him landing a little more melancholy on your heart than you thought it should. You watched him walk across the street — all roping muscle and broad, sure strides — until he was out of sight.

You shook your head in a feeble attempt to dislodge that last part, tipping back to drain the last of your tea before getting up to check on today's sandwich bread — a loaf that was notoriously difficult to bake to the correct rise and texture.

"I would say you're down bad," Hana drawled, leaning over the counter with her chin in her hand, "but that would pale in comparison to what I just watched."

"Shut it," you tried to be stern, but to suppress the flush was impossible. "Go get a bag ready for your deliveries."

She rolled her eyes, clearly not taking you seriously. You shook your head, unable to stop the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you walked back into the kitchen.

"Down atrocious, maybe," you heard her mutter behind you, "Dreadful? No. Down abominable."

"Oh my god, goodbye Hana," you groaned, grinning still at the sound of her answering cackle.

Down abominable, indeed.

.

..

...

A week later, you’d trudged down the steps in your slippers to pull the mail from the box, starting when your fingertips met something harder than you were expecting. Inside a careful wrapping of brown paper was a hard copy of a book you hadn’t read, but been eyeing in the shop down the road. A story about a baker and the mystical creature she befriends, that leads her on the journey of a lifetime. You shook your head, tucking the book under your arm and trudging back up the steps, a feeling blooming in your chest, expanding with every step.

.

..

…

You warmed at the sight of the caller ID on the phone, too near to closing to answer had it been anyone else.

"Well hello, little bear. How are you?"

You smiled at the nickname — you'd no idea how the couple had landed on it, but it'd stuck.

"I'm good, Jiji. How are you? You still having trouble with that little guy across the street?"

"Oh, he's just a nightmare. But that's not why I'm calling you."

You grinned, already anticipating this week's gossip. "Oh?"

"Now why did that little girl come down here and tell me you had a boyfriend before you did?"

Hana. That nosy little witch.

"I don't know why she would've done that, Ji," landline caught between your cheek and your shoulder, you were already drafting a sternly-worded text to Hana, "because I don't have a boyfriend."

"You might as well have a husband with how much he seems to be up in that shop with you."

You sighed, abandoning your ranting message for the moment only to pinch at the bridge of your nose. "You sure seem to know a lot about him."

His gravelly chuckle made you smile. "You like him, honey?"

"I do, Jiji," you said earnestly, warmed by the old man's concern. "He's good people."

"Well you'd better not settle for anything less than the best, you hear me?"

You swallowed, made difficult by the sudden onslaught of emotion. "Yes, sir."

"You know, when Kimina and I were dating, I got her one hundred roses and took her out on a canoe ride during sunset. That's where we fell in love."

"Is that so?" You choked back a snicker, remembering a very different version of events told by Kimina that ended in several bee stings and a capsized canoe.

"Oh yes, I was quite the Casanova. Anyway, did I tell you about the squirrel that keeps breaking into my bird feeder?"

You let Jiji drone on about his squirrel, thinking only about this feeling in your chest that seemed to grow with each passing day. The weight of it was astonishing and yet you knew you could — wanted to — carry it.

Was it such a bad thing? You couldn’t believe it was. You’d never shied away from a challenge, but this didn’t feel like that. It felt inevitable, like all you had to do was stand still and let it happen.

Like the sea, you'd let it swell up, spill over. There was no fear now — only the inevitable push and pull between you and this man that had both walked right into your life and been there the whole time.

.

..

...

The ring of the front door bell caught your attention — surprised that it was unlocked, and not at all surprised at who was standing underneath of it.

"Good morning, Katsuki."

He grunted his own greeting, setting down a to-go cup on the counter in front of you, only marked with your first initial, like it'd been too much for him to tell the barista your full name. This man.

You murmured your thanks and watched him linger, absolutely thrilled by the space he took up in your little bakery. "I'm actually going to close today," you told him between sips, "Aiya has to take Hana to get a physical, so it'll just be me, and I figured I'd take advantage of an off day."

He blinked, processing, and then his eyebrows pinched together something terrible. "You just leave your shit unlocked?" You watched him bristle, clearly embarrassed that he'd strolled in without knowing you were closed.

"You'd have to talk to Aiya about that," you told him, amused and not at all rising to the bait.

You let him flounder for a little bit — clearly fighting the urge to bolt. It was fascinating to watch him be ruffled by you, of all people.

"Actually," you offered, finally taking pity on him, "I thought I might go down to the beach today. Nice as it is out. Would you like to join me?"

His begrudging acceptance was not nearly as biting as it would've been had his face not mirrored the color of his irises.

You leave the bakery behind you (after locking up, at the not-so-polite request of Katsuki) and start the trek down the roadway to the beach, loose stones crunching and rolling under your feet. Late spring brought with it a cool breeze to dim the heat of the sun — your favorite time of year to throw on a big knit and sneak down to poke around in tide pools during slower days. You'd brought a blanket and some sandwiches for lunch — both of which Katsuki promptly snatched away from you and insisted on carrying, even though it was only a ten minute walk to the shore.

Which was convenient, because the second you stepped onto the softer silt that gave way to the ocean, you were off like a shot — cackling like a lunatic at the 'what in the fuck—" behind you under you couldn't hear it anymore, sweater torn off and discarded somewhere behind you. You ran toward the water until it caught you — wrapping around your shins, your thighs, and finally swallowing you whole as you dove in.

The sea was cold enough to steal the breath from your lungs and lock up your muscles, but you were used to it. Each swell picked you up and set you back down gently, almost enough to be lulled into some catatonic state of security had you not lived here all of your life and known acutely of the violence the ocean was capable of. But there were no grudges to be held. The ocean could never be expected to be anything but herself.

"Don't ever be foolish enough to settle for someone who believes you can be tamed," Kimina had told you, arm in arm as you walked down the beach all of those years ago.

"Jiji hasn't tamed you?" you'd asked, not quite knowing if she was being serious.

"God, no. That man couldn't tame a chihuahua, much less a woman. Listen to me," she'd pulled you to a stop then — surprisingly strong for how brittle she was — and looked you straight in the face, "There is something wild inside of you. You don't give that to anyone — it is yours. When a man tries to take from that wild — and he will — you let it out. It will keep you safe until the right someone comes along and can live in harmony with it."

You'd blinked — not wholly surprised by the impromptu lecture, because Kiminia was prone to those, but they weren't usually as...on the nose. Her usual disquisitions were a little harder to interpret — this one was not.

She'd looked at you expectantly. "Okay," you'd said, still a little bewildered, "I understand."

Satisfied, she'd gone on like she hadn't said a word, chattering instead about that year's prediction of the best vegetables to plant in raised gardens. You'd half-listened, mostly focused on the push and pull of the water along the shore. Heeding Kimina's warning — learning more than you thought you would when you'd agreed to walk with her that day.

You let the ocean hold you in it's embrace until the cold reached your bones and became less than tolerable. You paddled back, wringing your shorts and tank top out as best you could once you could stand and walk back in.

Katsuki stood at the water's edge, expression entirely unreadable but waiting for you nonetheless. You walked until your chest was only a few inches from his. He squinted at you, mouth twisted in some sort of scowl. Your smile was slow to spread, but once it started, you couldn't stop it.

He clicked his tongue, clearly trying to decide what in the world was wrong with you. "You gotta death wish?"

"Mhm-mhm," your cheeks ached with the grin that wouldn't go away for anything.

"You gonna walk around like a wet cat for the rest of the day?"

"There's a towel rolled up in the blanket."

"Course there is."

You followed him back to where he'd dropped your stuff — surprisingly orderly for having just watched you dive into the freezing ocean on a whim. You filed that one away for later.

While Katsuki stooped down to rummage through your bag, you worked on wringing your hair out — curls coated in brine and sand, a problem for later tonight. You twisted it tight enough to squeeze the water out let it fall back down over your shoulders.

Then it was dark — your towel thrown over your head. You squawked, caught of guard, and tried to bat it away; but your protests died out the second you felt a new pressure.

Separated by the towel, you felt his hands ghost over your shoulders, down the length of your arms, in between your fingers. You'd never been so aware of your body before that moment — and only what he'd touched. A floating torso in the middle of the beach.

You let him preen you, careful not to breathe for fear that you'd scare him off. Only when he stopped and stepped back did you snap out of it enough to pop your head out from under the towel.

He was quiet for a moment, studying you, and then —

"You look crazy."

You whipped the towel at him then, screeching something absurd at him if only to get him to laugh. But you were warm. Despite the bone-chilling water and the breeze, everything was warm.

Pulling your sweater back over your head, you settled in next to him on a flat rock, heated by the setting sun. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin on the flat of them while you watched the tide come in.

The silence was an amicable one, punctuated only by the static current you felt between your bodies, and the way you fought the urge to scoot closer to him.

Until the right someone comes along and can live in harmony with it.

And there it was again — that searing, unignorable feeling that you'd been here before. Not the beach, but the closeness. The silent safety.

"Can I share something with you?" You asked as the sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing everything in a deep coral.

He hummed — your long-learned interpretation of his permission. He didn't look at you, but you knew he was listening.

You took a deep breath. "When I was a kid, I had this dream. It was the strangest thing — I was walking through this forest, and I'd never seen it before, but it was like I knew where I was going. I walked on for a while until I walked into this sort of clearing. And there was this giant wolf. It was the most striking thing with these really intense eyes."

You could've sworn you felt Katsuki tense beside you. "And again, strange, because I just walked right up to the thing. And like, plopped down in its...whatever the equivalent to a lap is on a wolf."

"And I didn't want to leave," you murmured, "it was so devastating. I felt myself start to wake up and just. Fought the hell out of it. But wolf tried to calm me down. It said, 'not yet, but soon.' And that was the end of it. I never had that dream again, but I never forgot about it."

"This is the part that's really, really weird," you warned him, forcing out a little laugh to dispel your nerves. "You walked into the shop for the first time, and it was the most jarring thing because you looked exactly like the wolf. Same eyes, same hair color. Freaky, but like, coincidences are a thing."

"But then you spoke. And it was the same voice I'd heard in the dream. And I just...haven't been able to figure that one out."

Immediately the silence was crushing, the regret of mentioning it at all pressing, pressing, pressing, until you had to say something to get it to dissipate.

"It was just a weird thing, I think—"

"You were a rabbit."

You balked, not quite believing your ears. "What did you say?"

"In my dream," if you hadn't been as focused as you were on every word out of his mouth, you might not have even heard him, "you were a rabbit."

There was not a thought you could possibly voice as a follow up to that.

"...huh," is what you settled on, wholly unable to get your brain to catch up.

"It was a beach. Never’d even seen a beach, and there I was," he was incredibly matter-of-fact about it, like it wasn't shredding your insides to know that you'd both carried this thing the entire time.

"The first time I heard ya talk I thought someone was playing some sick joke on me," he murmured. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turn his head to look down at you. "I cancelled my train ticket back home that day."

You nearly snapped your neck with the force you whipped around to look at him with. "You did what?"

"I know," he said, with a smile that gored you straight through the heart. "I called mom 'cause I thought I was losing it. But she knew about the dream. She just said 'dad sent you there."

Hand over your heart to keep it where it was, the other reaching out to tether you to something, the tears came hard and fast — blurring the image of the man beside you. Your tether was him — the strength rippling through his forearm under your fingertips, but the only thing you could feel was the warmth. His skin, the calloused palm he settled over your own.

"I watched you run into that freezing fuckin' ocean like a psychopath and that was it. I knew exactly who y'were to me," you felt him shrug with a nonchalance you weren't sure you'd ever feel again. "There was nothing I could do."

"Oh," you choked, snotty and gross and suddenly indignant, "you pick right now to say the most romantic thing I've ever heard anyone say in my life?"

His head fell back with a laugh that burned through you. He didn't give you any room to think too hard about it — he just pulled you under his arm, into his chest. Your temple rested over his heartbeat like you'd been here lifetimes before.

"This is crazy," you whispered, quiet in the dark, held by the ache in your heart suddenly soothed by him.

"Yeah."

You fell back into the silence easily — thoughts fragmented and dull, except for one. You sat up, seeking his outline in the fleeting light.

"Where have you been staying?"

He looked away from you, choosing now to suddenly get sheepish. "Hotel."

"Wha — you've been living in a hotel for this long?"

His silence was more than telling.

"Jesus Christ, Katsuki," shaking your head, you gathered your things, balled up bigger than you in your arms and glaring at him. "C'mon then."

He followed you without a word, his amusement a tangible thing. You muttered to yourself the entire way home, absolutely incredulous.

You shoved your key into the lock, pausing to turn over your shoulder, pushing the door open.

"And what would you have done if I hadn't just spilled my guts to you like that? Live in that room permanently? That is so —"

"Ahem."

You froze, turning slowly to meet Aiya's gaze at the top of the steps. Her and her unbearable grin.

"Were you right?"

You looked at her, over your shoulder to Katsuki, and back again. "I was."

She hummed, her smile growing as she started down the steps. You moved to let her pass, but she stopped on the last step, opening her mouth and—

"Say goodbye to your balls, Katsuki."

Your jaw dropped, all indignancy stolen quickly by the sound of Katsuki's howl behind you. The sight of him nearly doubled over doused your fire immediately.

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, shoving into Aiya with half-hearted strength, sending her into the wall with your shoulder. "Bye, whatever, love you, bye."

The door clicking behind her cut off her giggling and draped you in quiet. From your spot on the step, you stood eye to eye with him, and the nerves came back like a freight train.

"Alright, let's—"

He caught you before you could turn away — his fingers warm as they circled your elbow. It happened in slow motion — the drag of his fingertips up to your shoulder, his approach, the slide of his palm up the side of your neck, grip tangled and gentle in your curls, the breath you fought to drag into your lungs, the brush of his nose against your own —

"Please," he murmured, lips nearly brushing yours. It was all you could do not to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole.

You settled for this — both hands fisted in his t-shirt, dragging him the extra centimeter to you, swallowing such achingly beautiful sounds he made. The glide of his lips over yours felt holy, felt like a firecracker detonating under your skin, felt more necessary than air —

He held you to him by the back of your neck and something about it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

This is what we are, you thought, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth just to hear the rumbling groan he'd give you in return, this is what we were always going to be.

It was soft until it wasn't, and then it was something entirely animal. His kiss was bruising, and you could only take — more of his affection, more of this feeling, more of him —

"Upstairs," you whispered against his mouth, breathy and pleading —

In another reality with far less urgency he probably would've let you at least walk up the steps yourself, but you couldn't find it in your heart to mind too much when he hauled you into his arms and up them himself, choosing to occupy yourself instead by using the new angle to your advantage — fingers hooked under his jaw, dragging his mouth back up to you, him going willingly.

Somehow he found his footing on the landing and promptly sought out the nearest soft-ish surface. When he found the couch, you braced yourself to be deposited on the cushions — to have him over you, to be contorted to his whims, already the panic singed up your spine —

It didn’t happen.

His back hit the couch and his hands never left you, looking up at you all flushed and breathing heavy and adoring, like you’d never done a wrong thing in your life —

Oh. Oh.

The realization took the wind from your sails and replaced it with a sort of molten pleasure, like a marionette pushing and pulling you toward him, chest to chest, fingertips prying and searching, needing to be so much closer than you physically could’ve been.

His hands were gentle dragging up your back, under your shirt. His lips ghosted across your jaw and down your throat, kisses syrupy and disarmingly affectionate.

But there was something wild in you, after all. And it called to him louder than you’d ever heard of it.

“I want to touch you,” you told him, slurred against the onslaught of his mouth, “I don’t want to be gentle.”

The thrill you felt at the shiver that pulled from him was unimaginable. More still at the whimpered “please” against your lips. Like a crackling whip, it set something free in you — and it was all the permission you needed to tear into him like you needed to.

His hair tickled your palm as the dulled ends brushed against it. You curled your fingers into it, grabbing a fistful and pulling back hard until he could only stare up at you, eyes hooded in unbridled want. Your unoccupied fingers set to explore, trailing up from his throat, to his jaw, to his bottom lip.

Like you’d asked him to, his lips parted. Heat lit up the space between your hips as you slipped two fingers inside, groaning at the feeling and at the shameless work of his tongue around you. Still held in place by your grip, he had to wait for you to move — and once you did, you understood the appeal.

His eyelids fluttered with every push forward and back drag of your fingers on his tongue. Swollen lips wrapped around you, only reluctant to let you go. The soft scrape of his teeth against your knuckles, the deep breaths through his nose, his low, little whines — the curl of his hips underneath you, all of that hardness seeking out any sort of soft relief. All of it was more captivating than you could’ve thought possible.

You let him go eventually, painting his skin with wetness and replacing your fingertips with your tongue. The poor thing — panting and so eager to wrap his lips around whatever you put between them.

Your fingers fell to the curve of his throat, thumb and pointer finger finding both sides of the delicate skin below the cut of his jaw and pressing down. That ripped something loud and broken from him — you let go of your grip on his hair just to watch him writhe underneath you, his powerful, assured posture given way to this blind, desperate search for friction, for more.

It felt like a god — to do so little and have this wall of a man shattered beneath you. You’d have done it forever, had you not been soaking through your panties and reaching a boiling point yourself.

You pushed back and off of him, no limit to the swelling in your chest at his whining protests.

“Take your clothes off, Katsuki.”

You blinked and it was done, and he was so wickedly beautiful you’d have looked away if you’d had any ability to do so. Flushed down his chest, head tilted back over the back of the couch, eyes nearly closed in his overwhelm but still glued to you. You took the liberty of a thorough inspection, eyes drifting down the length of his body, unable to part with the sight of the seemingly involuntary thrust of his hips, his cock angry and heavy and leaking against his stomach.

You pulled your sweater over your head, and then parted with your tank top and shorts, still damp and the only coolant for your fevered skin. Every layer removed pulled an almost inaudible whine from the back of Katsuki’s throat, like every second under this fog of sensation pulled him closer to animal and further away from man.

You stood just out of his reach, reveling a little in this picture of him and also considering something.

After a moment of thought, it came to you with such a wave of arousal that you nearly buckled under the feeling.

You took a step to him and leaned in, hands coming to rest on his thighs, pressing down to hold yourself up. His head followed your own, mouth seeking yours like a moth to a flame, like the most inevitable thing in the world.

“Mm,” you left yourself lay it on thick, the moan low in your throat and genuine, just to feel him shudder into your kiss, “you want to eat my pussy baby?”

He pulled away with a whimper, eyebrows knit together and those beautiful red eyes hopelessly unfocused but wanting, nodding fiercely, needing you to know that there was not a thing he wanted more than that.

“Get on the floor.”

He was there in an instant, body seemingly turned liquid to slip underneath you and settle there, head tilted back over the cushion, mouth already gaping, panting and searching —

You settled on either side of his face, knees pressing into the cushion, feet draped over his chest. Both of his hands wrapped around your heels, whether to keep you there or to attempt to tether himself to something, you didn’t know.

His tachycardic inhales were more gasping than anything else, like he could get a taste of you just by sucking in hard enough. You let him want it for a little while, hovering over his face just out of his reach, swollen and aching and nearly dripping —

He was patient until he wasn’t, and then he was on you — hands coming up to paw at your hips, to slot you firmly over his face, mouth open and tongue lolled out to catch you.

You pitched forward, body collapsing into the back of the couch with a strangled sort of cry, immediately overwhelmed. You pressed your forehead to the padding in front of you until you hit the resistance of wood, all of your limbs suddenly deadweight and numb, only feeling the drag of his tongue.

He worshipped you, taking the liberty to pull you forward and down and pushing you back, your swollen clit catching on the wet meat of his tongue, his mouth like a vacuum seal over the entire thing, swollen and open and made to please you —

You took to moving your hips yourself, the vibration of his groan rattling up your spine as you fucked his face, taking, taking, taking — using the entirety of it to your satisfaction, the cut of his jaw and the curve of his nose sending delicious little pangs of pleasure up your spine with every quick catch of your clit on them.

“Fuck me,” Katsuki rasped, gasping and needing, “fuck me, fuck me—”

His grip on your ass was bruising, pulling you down and spreading you open. The feeling of his tongue spearing into you, soft and dexterous and searching along your walls, pulled something like a wail from you, your body taking over, pushing you up and dropping you back own on it, needing more of the gentle stretch, his wet exploration —

“Oh, I’m gonna cum—” your voice sounded pitiful, pitched up and muffled in the crook of your elbow in a feeble attempt just to hold on. You reached to find your clit and pressed tight, quick circles into it, hard and hot and achingly sensitive under your fingertips — “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum—”

And you did — hard and fast and nearly painful, your pussy squeezing tight around his tongue, every other muscle seemingly contracting in solidarity. Eyes shut tight against the onslaught of feeling, your body curled into itself, bucking into his mouth, trying to get more of it, trying to get away from it — static filled your ears and drown out the sound of your broken cries —

And then it was over — the pleasure turning molten and pooling outward, down into your limbs, and dissipating. You trembled in its wake, still for a minute until you remembered you were probably suffocating the man underneath you. You popped up quick — a little too quick, apparently. Your vision swam and you grabbed for the couch back — the feeling of hands at your thighs to steady you and the murmured “easy” hitting your senses like you were underwater.

Your movements were slow, nearly liquid as you made your way down to him, thighs split over his own to settle there, immediately noticing —

“You came,” you murmured, earning a soft snort from Katsuki, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You pressed forward into him, trapping his soft cock and the mess he’d made between your stomachs, leaning into his chest and feeling his arms cage you in like you’d done this all your life.

The press of your cheek against the dusting of blond hair was a soothing thing, rubbing against him like a satisfied cat. His head tipped down to hold you there, his jaw still slick with you as it came into your view, silently beckoning for you to meet him halfway —

His kiss was a balm to your frayed nerves — warm and wet and solid against your mouth, for no other reason but to kiss you. It cut the rest of your strings — you felt the clench of your stomach release and sagged boneless into his hold. This time, there was nothing particularly erotic about it — no residual arousal pooling in your gut, no tingle up your spine. It just felt good, like warm water over cooled skin.

Satisfied, he pulled away from you with a sigh, dropping his head back to the cushions. You pressed a kiss to his jaw and settled underneath it, fighting the urge to let your eyes close.

“We need to shower,” you croaked, lips brushing his skin and making him shiver, “we’re gross.”

Katsuki hummed, his palm smoothing up the path of your spine. Making no attempt to move. You switched tactics.

“You know, Aiya usually brings a guy home with her after she goes out —”

“Yep, got it,” he said, suddenly full of life as he dragged you both off the floor, heeding your directions down the hall and to the bathroom through your giggling.

He took his time with you in there — washing the sand and salt from your hair, your hands pressed to the tile as he covered every inch of your back, with his hands and then his mouth, moving down, moving slow, under the curve of your ass to where you were burning again. You pulled back to turn, your back meeting the slick wall, to watch him swallow you whole — more captivated by the stroke of his fist along the satiny skin of his cock, tugging hard in time with flicks of his tongue against your clit —

You stood there, shaking and collapsed against each other under the steady stream of the shower. Trading sweet presses of his lips to your temple for murmured, affectionate nonsense until you were pruny and exhausted. You let him dry you off — something he appeared to gleam real satisfaction from, and who were you to stand in the way of that, really — and towed him down to your room, the warm embrace of your mattress nearly enough to bring you to tears.

He slotted in behind you like the most perfect puzzle piece, every inch of him molded to your backside like it was the way you’d been shaped from the start. Pillowed by the crook of his elbow, you sighed at the decadence of it all — settling in to him, nearly purring at the brush of hair away from your neck, replaced by the airbrush press of his mouth.

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” your voice was quiet in the dark.

He hummed, and the rumbling against your back was like a sedative — pulling you with gentle grasp into sleep. You had a fleeting thought that you might just see your wolf again after all, now that you had the real thing wrapped around you like this.

Tomorrow, then.

note: thanks for reading, love u <3

[watchyourbuck]

my predictions for 911 s8 based on show predictability and what I think were easter eggs throughout s7

bucktommy sex scene (implied or other)

eddie vs gerard

mara adoption at the end of the season

new madney baby (also end of the season)

eddie big (queer) emotional break

short but important ravi arc

buck firefighting accident + mild injury

bathena temporary housing problems

chris mid season return home

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Yandere Concepts Masterlist

Be aware that these are fiction works made for entertainment purposes. It includes yandere behaviours and several triggers so make sure to READ THE WARNINGS at the beginning. 

I do not support any of these toxic behaviours. 

Reader is always female.

▶ Yandere Teacher - (Non-Con)

▶ Yandere Criminal - (Kidnapping)

▶ Yandere Police Officer (Manipulation/Power Abuse)

▶ Yandere Hater (Incel; Hate)

-> He tries to kidnap you

▶ Yandere Actor (Obsession; Manipulation)

▶ Yandere Step-Brother (Stepcest; Creepy/Obsession; Mild Manipulation)

-> Drabble (Noncon)

-> Jealousy Drabble (Blackmail)

▶ Yandere Firefighter (Manipulation; Memory Loss)

▶ Yandere Boss (Noncon)

▶ Yandere Coworker (Obsession; Creepiness)

▶ Yandere Lawyer (Obsession; Misogyny; slight Power Abuse)

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

All Explicit Fic Recs: Alphabetically Sorted A-L

Note that most summaries in this list are shortened. Each link will lead to the fic's rec page where you can get full details, summaries, and links to read each story.

[Explicit M-Z collection] [Teen-Mature A-Z collection]

32 Questions That Lead To Love by ffonippop (32k, Explicit) Okay, fine. Crowley was 32-Questions-That-Lead-To-Love-ing Aziraphale. Sue him.

A Bathhouse Pretense by DoonaRose (17k, Explicit) Aziraphale seeks Crowley out in 38 BC Rome, finding him in a bathhouse which just so happens to be hosting an orgy.

A Billion Points of Light by akitsuko (50k, Explicit) Crowley has never been one for the whole ‘love at first sight’ business, but he may need to reassess after Aziraphale - a gorgeous firefighter - saves his life.

A Guarantee and Not a Promise by voluptatiscausa (16k, Explicit) But, God, it’s hard. It’s hard to be humble. It’s hard to stand here and remember that nothing is promised, that what he and Crowley have may be broken irrevocably. He just can’t seem to make himself believe it, not when Crowley’s love feels just the same as it always has.

A Little Life by GaiasEyes (71k, Explicit) When Professor of Botany Anthony Crowley met bookshop owner Ezra Fell one November afternoon both knew their lives had irrevocably changed.

A Tricky Situation (Entirely of his own making) by sixbynine (35k, Explicit) [Aziraphale's] been teaching at King College London for a long time now thank you very much and he does not take kindly to new Professors being sprung on him suddenly.

affection and other cravings by JustStandingHere (29k, Explicit) an examination vis-à-vis food and forgiveness

amaretto by goosewriting (67k, Explicit) Everything changes for [Aziraphale] when a unique occult relic falls into his hands and loops him into a contract with a mild-mannered (if a bit snarky) demon named Crowley.

angel and ash by ineffabildaddy (5k, Explicit) Crowley and Aziraphale’s attempts at physical intimacy through the ages have always been stilted, awkward and anticlimactic… but in this moment, Crowley is drawn even more strongly to Aziraphale than usual, and Aziraphale feels the same about Crowley.

because thinking makes it so by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (41k, Explicit) It’s supposed to be an exchange. An arrangement. Something to make them both feel better and less lonely. But Crowley’s never had the brightest ideas.

Big Name Feelings by ghostrat (100k, Explicit) Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are

Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (186k, Explicit) Trip on over to Devil Doe’s Dairy and Goat Scaping Farm, where the cheese is always smooth, the goats climb roofs, and true love might just be around the corner.

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b (20k, Explicit) It’s fucking on camera. It’s not that complicated.

By Any Other Name by Tartan_Temptation (18k, Explicit) as the reality of his… situation hit him with all the gentleness of a punch to the face. He gripped the sides of his sink and looked his reflection in the eyes. You are a sugar baby. You have a sugar daddy. Crowley is your sugar daddy.

Can’t Fight Back, But I Can Take It by voluptatiscausa (10k, Explicit) …in those early years, when Crowley would slide a hand between his legs for some relief, the scenes in his mind showed an Aziraphale who gave Crowley what he wanted, yes, but gave it as a favour. As a punishment

Closer to You by TawnyOwl95 (44k, Explicit) Since his wife divorced him, A.J. Crowley makes good money writing romance novels. Sexual psychology student and cam worker Aziraphale enjoys understanding pleasure. But only from a safe distance. He’s too busy working on his PhD to fall in love.

Collaborative Activities by scullyphile (12k, Explicit) While on a corporate retreat, estranged co-workers Aziraphale and Crowley get teamed up together. They encounter something on their hike, something that brings a buried desire to the surface and transforms it into an unquenchable lust.

Come as you are by hiya_angel (4k, Explicit) “This is perfect, but I’m not… I don’t have…” Aziraphale blushed brightly, avoiding Crowley’s gaze, and suddenly Crowley understood. “Oh, angel, are you trans?” Aziraphale sniffed and nodded.

creature of mine by ineffabildaddy (21k, Explicit) Aziraphale buys Crowley a snake plant, hoping to please Crowley with the appealing smell of its flowers. Its effects on Crowley are far more extreme than Aziraphale anticipated, and it’s down to him to face them head-on.

Crowley the Camdemon by seashadows (58k full series, Explicit) Aziraphale discovers that Crowley satisfied his loneliness in the previous decade by posting intimate videos of himself online - videos that Aziraphale himself was never meant to see.

Despite Knowing Better… by ineffabildaddy (10k, Explicit) After the Ineffable Divorce, Aziraphale and fem!Crowley can’t stop fucking. They’ve laid out some ground rules, but, of course, they can’t help breaking them…

Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire by Princip1914 (31k, Explicit) “Oh God,” Aziraphale said to the empty bookshop, pouring himself another drink, “Oh, Lord, tell me, if we had been humans together...Would we have fallen in love? Are you listening lord? If you hear me, give me a sign, please, I beg you.”

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 (36k, Explicit) AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that’s only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he’s started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Epistolary by imposterssyndrome (93k, Explicit) Crowley discovers Aziraphale’s personal diaries. What starts as some light reading about the 14th century... slowly turns into something *much more* complex.

Exalt by hakunahistata (2k, Explicit) “Ooh, aren’t you brilliant,” that voice rumbles with the tonality of jest and slitted eyes that gleam gold...“Actually, I–I think getting us all in the cellar was very clever,” is what he says. Do you really think so? is what he doesn’t.

Fakes and Forgeries by Solimette, WaldosAkimbo (156k, Explicit) Aziraphale, a very competent art conservator who specializes in oil paintings...He is hired...to hunt down this forger, who had duped wealthy folks out of millions for recreations of van Dyck and Rubens paintings. They team up with Anthony Crowley, who has worked the circuit selling paintings and might have a clue on who is forging them (maybe because he’s the artist they’re looking for).

Falling For You by TawnyOwl95 (37k, Explicit) Anthony Crowley works too hard. The answer...might be a high-end escort who sells the fantasy of a relationship. Aziraphale has just nudged his way past thirty. He’s facing burnout and wants to get out of the business, but the thrill of a new client might be just what he needs to get some of his passion back. It seems like a convenient arrangement, until they both realise it’s not enough and they want something real.

For Loving One by TheScholarlyStrumpet (64k, Explicit) Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...

How My Light is Spent by Azira_Amane (19k, Explicit) Navigating the dating world when you can’t see it can be tricky. For Crowley, that was never a problem; he’s usually too busy to contemplate a relationship. The same goes for Aziraphale, though he doesn’t have Crowley’s excuse - he just isn’t really all that much into people as a whole.

Hunger by AppleSeeds (87k, Explicit) Crowley is delighted when his next assignment as a Teaching Assistant involves helping to run Eco-Lit seminars with the hottest professor on campus, and even more so when Professor Fell seems quite receptive to his flirting. He's literally getting paid to ogle Aziraphale and listen to him read poetry, what could possibly be better than that?

I Will Get Up Now And Go About The City by drawlight (ripeteeth) (30k, Explicit) This is the story of six-thousand years and a borrowed jacket. (A tale told in vignettes.)

I’m Beginning to See the Light by ineffabildadddy (15k, Explicit) Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

In The Room Where You Sleep by ghostrat (27k, Explicit) “It’s a nice idea,” Crowley chirped, grinning a little wider and making the butterflies in Aziraphale’s stomach flutter a little harder. “Except for the part where, you know, monsters aren’t real.”

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (33k, Explicit) After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment’s notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine by Dervila and elf_on_the_shelf (63k, Explicit) After Adam’s parents die in a car crash, Aziraphale is forced to start taking care of him as more than just an uncle. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little devil, it’s just that he is completely clueless and could rather use some help.

It’s Not the Fall (It’s the Landing) by Ginger_Cat (66k, Explicit) To save each other from Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley become human. Things, predictably, do not go as planned.

Just Up the Stairs by foolishlovers, ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia (39k, Explicit) On Valentine’s Day, amidst the chaos of handling work and university deadlines as a mature student, Crowley seeks solace with his neighbour Aziraphale. As they share a meal, their long-standing friendship begins to unravel, revealing hidden feelings they’ve harboured for six months. It’s a night that could change everything.

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (21k, Explicit) As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam.

litany in which certain things are crossed out by Ayes (30k, Explicit) A beaten-down Aziraphale opens a bakery in the small town of Tadfield, where he finds an all-night greasy spoon and one fallen Crowley, who is making amends through various and increasingly ridiculous means of community service

Long Haul by snae_b (68k, Explicit) Anthony Crowley might have gotten out of Missouri, but he hasn’t escaped his past. He wears it like a cloak. When he crosses paths with a guardian angel, he starts to learn how to shed it.

love not given lightly by hakunahistata (3k, Explicit) When Aziraphale Fell met Anthony J. Crowley a little less than a year ago, several things were apparent instantly: he was gorgeous, he was angry, and he was very assuredly fine.

[Explicit M-Z collection] [Teen-Mature A-Z collection]

[buddie-fic-recs-this-way]

what are your fav buddie au’s? i’m looking for like cute/ mild angst but with a happy ending? for reference i like the au’s where neither one of them is a firefighter, like they’re a chef or a barista or a teacher, stuff like that! but i also like when one of them is a firefighter and one isn’t! honestly im not picky i’m just on a “fluff buddie getting together au” kick right now lol!!!❤️❤️❤️

well you have come to the right place! au's my most beloved. i'm also known as the au queen 😂 (since i'm combining these asks, i'll put which one's are angsty) i tried to stick to more “normal jobs” so i hope these are what y’all are looking for <33 as always if anyone else has other recs, please feel free to add them!

pick a star on the dark horizon (follow the light) Bob_loblaws_lawblog @bi-buckrights (army buddie/angsty)

winner takes it all buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) | (hockey buck/baseball player eddie/ light angst)

now our love lives in the radio | heartbeatdiaz @loserdiaz (college au/ radio host buck/ fluffy)

traded | Princessfbi @princessfbi (hockey buck/ bartender eddie/ light angst)

falling for you (when you're miles away) | MonsterRae1 @monsterrae1 (long distance relationship/ buck is a course teacher for LAFD/ angst)

cordolia verse (bakery au) | MonsterRae1 @monsterrae1 (baker!eddie/barista!buck/ fluff)

kiss me before it's over (if only for a minute) | Bob_loblaws_lawblog @bi-buckrights (baseball buddie/light angst)

come love, | colonoscopys (business man buck meets bodyguard eddie/ angsty)

don't play games (come my way) | letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (buisnessmen buddie/light angst)

a wednesday in a café (i watched it begin again) | MonsterRae1 @monsterrae1 (nurse!eddie/firefighter buck/coffee shop au/fluff)

made your mark on me (a golden tattoo) | heartbeatdiaz @loserdiaz (tattoo artist!eddie/fluffy)

wastin' my time when it was always you |heartbeatdiaz @loserdiaz (childhood friends to lovers/navy seal buck/angsty)

eyes like sinking ships (in waters so inviting) |heartbeatdiaz @loserdiaz (lifeguard!buck/more fluff than angst)

falling slowly; sing your melody (i’ll sing it loud) |Princessfbi @princessfbi (musician!buck/bodyguard!eddie/angsty)

hearts, hooves, and healing | mansikka @redlightsandicedtea (neither are firefighters/horse sanctuary/fluffy)

your name is written in the sand | lecornergirl @clusterbuck (lifeguard!buck/fluffy)

let my ink stain your pages |letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (author!buck/detective!eddie/fluff & angst)

steppin' into fate | r_holland @onward--upward (hockey buddie/fluff & angst)

i don't mind waiting (if it's for you) | Princessfbi @princessfbi (detective!eddie/bartender!buck/angsty)

a picture is worth a thousand words (but love is undefinable) |extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @extasiswings @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (model!buck/photographer!eddie)

teardrops could be bottled | Princessfbi @princessfbi (model!buck/photographer!eddie)

string of hearts...| ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie (plant shop owner buck/firefighter eddie/fluff)

what if you're someone i just want around... |ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie (boxer!eddie/firefighter buck/angsty)

pin me to the wall, i'm an art piece | whiskis @angela-feelstoomuch (models buddie/fluff & angst)

cowboys, jorts and building shit |Ineedapuppyandsomevodka (houseflipper!buck/carpenter!eddie/fluffy) @ineedapuppyandsomevodka

frequent flyer | whileyouresleeping @whileyoursleeping (eddie is a firefighter/buck is not/fluff)

coastlines | browney3dgirl6 (surfer-shopowner!eddie/firefighter buck/ agnsty) a lil self promo; i would list more but 99% of what i write is au's like this 😅 if you want me to make a separate post of all of them, just lmk 🫶🏻)