#like... no one's asking you to drop big bucks on this

[megalony]

You'll See Him Soon

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. I hope you will all like it, I wrote this one so quickly. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17 @zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: While (Y/n) pops by the station, her and Eddie both end up getting shot. And the team race to get them both to the hospital before they lose them.

Enjoy.

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"So, lunch on Tuesday?"

A grin broke out on (Y/n)'s face and she turned to the right, looking over at her big sister with a smile.

"Yep. You know we'll have to invite Buck though, right?" (Y/n) laughed at the way Maddie rolled her eyes.

They had gone out today on a girl's day while Evan, Eddie and Chimney were all on shift. That was all well and good, but it made Evan feel left out. Whenever they went out together on a girl's day, they ended up going to the movies or going out for lunch another day with Evan. The three of them were a close-knit sibling unit and Evan seemed to think girl's day should also include him.

"Hm, I know." She cast a sly grin across at (Y/n) before she looked ahead and turned the next corner.

"You can just drop me at the station, you know. Eddie will be finished by now and he said he'd give me a lift home." They were only three minutes away from the station and it saved Maddie having to go past her flat to get to (Y/n) and Eddie's place.

It meant she could just drop (Y/n) here and make the short trip home and (Y/n) would go home with Eddie. As long as he wasn't currently out on a call but even if he was, (Y/n) would just wait at the station for him.

"Don't forget to ask Eddie and Buck about getting that night off next month."

(Y/n) groaned and pressed her temple against the window at the mere mention of what was going to happen next month. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes at the thought.

"If they don't get it off, I'll be down at the station with them." (Y/n) could hear her sister laughing, but she wasn't joking. She was being serious. If neither of the boys got that night off, (Y/n) would be joining them and hanging out at the station for the night.

There was no way (Y/n) and Maddie could get through dinner with their parents without Eddie and Evan there with them. It wasn't often that they saw their parents nowadays and that was how the three siblings liked it.

But (Y/n) knew when she told them she was pregnant, they would want to come down and see them all. She had been surprised they hadn't come down sooner, but they were finally coming down for three days next week and (Y/n) was dreading it.

"At least they're happy this time… they're excited." Leaning across the console, Maddie rested her hand on (Y/n)'s leg and gave her a little shake to make her smile.

"Yeah, after they said I wasn't old or mature enough to be Chris's mum. Now this is 'their grandchild' they've changed their tune."

(Y/n) kept her head against the cold glass that felt soothing to her skin. She dared to glance her eyes down and her expression softened when she looked at her bump. Her fingers danced over her abdomen and she started drawing aimless patterns like Eddie had started to do recently. (Y/n) didn't realise how attached to her stomach Eddie would be until she finally started to show.

Not long before she and Eddie got married last year, her parents had tried telling her- in front of Eddie- that she wasn't mature enough to be a mother to Chris. And she had seen the conflict in their eyes when Chris called her mum. They didn't see how much it meant to (Y/n) that Chris thought of her as his mother.

Because she was the youngest sibling, they thought she was somehow incompetent at doing anything.

Only now it was different because (Y/n) was the first one out of the three of them to have a child. Her parents had changed their minds because they could see (Y/n) was the happiest she had ever been with Eddie and she was settling down. They were going to be grandparents and it sparked a small change in them.

Although (Y/n) knew if they dared say anything when they came down, Eddie would blow a fuse.

"So… have you thought of any names yet? I think-"

"We are not calling her Maddie." (Y/n) shook her head and shot a glare across at her sister who was just about to turn into the station car park.

"Why not?"

"Because it's your name. It's bad enough Buck's trying to hustle in and pitch Evelyn for a name. We're not naming her after anybody."

(Y/n) had seen Eddie's eyes light up when they went to their scan two weeks ago and found out they were having a girl. She knew he had been hoping for a girl and she could already tell their daughter would have Eddie wrapped around her little finger.

But the couple were starting to regret telling people because they were all coming up with names and ideas left, right and centre. Evan had been bummed they couldn't name the baby after him, until he realised Evelyn was close to his name and kept pestering Eddie to pick that name. And even though Maddie was joking, she had pitched Madeline to them a few times.

God knows there wasn't anyone on (Y/n)'s side of the family she would want to name her daughter after- except for her big sister. But (Y/n) couldn't handle two Maddie's and getting confused and having to come up with nicknames for each of them.

And she had asked Eddie if he had anyone on his side that he thought about naming their daughter after, but he wasn't keen on the idea. They wanted something original. A name no one else in their friendship circle had.

"Fine," Maddie huffed with a roll of her eyes as she parked up and whipped off her seatbelt. She turned to the left and looked over at (Y/n) with a tender smile before she danced her fingertips across (Y/n)'s stomach. And her smile brightened when (Y/n) moved her hand down so she could feel the baby wriggling. "Well what about Dolly, because she'll be as cute as a little doll."

"I'll think about it." (Y/n) would admit that it would be sweet to call her Doll or Dolly, especially if she was small and delicate. But knowing their luck, they would agree on that name and then either their daughter wouldn't suit the name when she was born or she wouldn't be a small baby.

She gave Maddie's hand a squeeze and grinned, but just as she took off her belt and looked to the left, a pair of hands slammed against the window.

(Y/n) screamed as Maddie gasped and reeled back in her seat with a frown when they both realised it was only Eddie.

He had a wolfish grin on his lips while he crouched down to look through the window. He seemed to make it his mission to give (Y/n) a fright recently and she was sure it was because he loved to make her scream and liven up the baby.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) hissed and slammed her hand down on the window before she moved her hand to her chest, trying to regain back her breath.

Her brows furrowed into a deep frown as Eddie opened the door and when he held his hand out for her, she batted it away and climbed out. "Don't do that! Do you want me to have a heart attack?"

She gave his shoulder a shove and tried to glare at him, but it was hard when he grinned down at her with such a wide smile that his cheeks and eyes creased. And when he leaned over and wormed his arms around her waist and reeled her into his chest, (Y/n) didn't have the effort to push him away.

"No, just keepin' you on your toes, baby."

His palms pressed flush against her back and he pulled her into him until their chests were touching and (Y/n) had to hold onto his shoulders to steady herself. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him when his lips attached to the side of her neck "Look what you've done," She muttered quietly, reaching behind her to hold Eddie's wrist and move his hand from her back until his palm was pressed into the side of her stomach.

"She's happy to see me." He grinned against her neck and bared his teeth, lightly grazing against her neck until (Y/n) gave his shoulders a squeeze and started to squirm in his arms.

He lifted his head up so he could kiss the side of (Y/n)'s temple and his arms curved back around her. Keeping her pinned into his chest and when she curled her arms around his neck to hug him, he started to sway them both from side to side. And Eddie turned his head to the left, grinning over at Maddie as she got out the car and leaned against the door with a grin and raised brows.

"Did you two have fun?"

"We went for lunch, then we saw a movie."

They hadn't made any plans today, they had decided to have a girls day but see what they felt like doing when they went out. Both of them had been hungry, so they tried a new restaurant for lunch and then decided to go to the movies. It had been a while since they had gone out together and seen a movie and it was something they used to do every weekend when (Y/n) was younger.

"Someone had to leave the screen twice for a drink refill. Little miss lemonade with lime cordial."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and looked up at Eddie through her lashes when he scrunched his nose in distaste and gave her an odd look.

"You don't like lime juice." That wasn't something Eddie had ever known (Y/n) to drink and it was an odd combination. And it wasn't like (Y/n) to go and get a refill drink either, she barely drank enough during the day to keep her going so it was a nice surprise to hear she kept getting another drink.

"Hm, your daughter does," Maddie chirped with a wide grin before she looked down at her watch. "Right, I'd better love you and leave you, I'll see you both at the weekend for games night. Tell Buck I said hi."

When Maddie climbed back in the car and blew a few kisses their way, they stood back and waved her off.

"Is your shift over?" (Y/n) dragged her eyes up and down Eddie's frame, only just realising that he was still in his starched navy trousers and button up shirt. Her fingers dug down into his shoulders and she tilted back a little when Eddie leaned his chest against hers and stole a deep kiss from her lips.

"Hm, just gotta get changed, then we can go home." He could see that was music to (Y/n)'s ears.

Sitting down in a movie theatre was all well and good, but (Y/n) was starting to feel tired already and she hadn't done that much today. She wanted to go home, make tea and slump on the sofa with her boys.

"So, was the movie any good?" Eddie curved his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist to keep her tucked up into his side as they walked round to the front of the station. He stuffed his other hand into his pocket and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head when she leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

"Yeah, but I missed the ending queuing for the toilet." In all honesty (Y/n) had missed a few crutial parts of the film when she went to go get another drink, twice. And then she had to hurry out twice for the toilet and the queue had been horrendous at the end. It was lucky she was only five months along with the baby or she wasn't sure she would of been able to wait as long as she did for the queue to go down.

She could feel Eddie laughing into her hair as both their steps came to a halt when they noticed Hen, Chimney and Evan all gathered in a little circle just outside the station doors.

"What kind of meeting is this?" (Y/n) quipped with a grin and she leaned over when Evan looped his arm around her shoulders and reeled her under his wing for a hug.

"Shift change-over. Me and your hubby are leaving, these two are staying for the next four hours." Hen hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and smiled triumphantly as if she had just won a game.

They were all out here because the trucks were being restocked and the ambulance was out on a call. It was quieter out here than inside where everyone was hustling and bustling to stock up and clatter and change over. And Hen was getting ready to leave whereas Chimney and Evan were taking a breather before they went back in for the rest of their shifts.

"So, how's Evelyn?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and unhooked her brother's arm from her shoulders before she crossed her arms over her chest. But she smiled when Eddie reached behind her to give Evan a light shove.

"I've told you, we're not naming her after you." He gave Evan a pointed look before he moved his hands to his hips and leaned his head to one side. It didn't matter how many times Evan tried or how much he pestered. Eddie's first daughter was not going to be named after his brother-in-law.

(Y/n) leaned into Eddie's left side, trying to hide her grin when Chimney started to laugh.

"Debatable." Evan remarked with narrowed eyes before he looked back down at his little sister. He wasn't giving up just yet; he could pester them for a lot longer to see if they would give in and go along with the name he had chosen. "So, how is she?"

"She's fine."

"So, are you two-"

Whatever Hen was about to say tapered off when a sharp, shrill noise cut through the air and shifted the atmosphere around them.

A gunshot.

Nobody knew where it came from. They didn't know who fired, where they were standing, what kind of shot it was that was directed at them. Or who the shot was aimed for.

Terror dug its claws into (Y/n)'s chest and ripped out her lungs when her head turned to the right.

It was Eddie. Eddie was the one who got shot. She didn't see the bullet hit him, but (Y/n) knew the moment he had been hurt; his left hand clawed into her back and made her wince. She knew by the way his fingertips punctured into her hip and how his hand fisted her flesh like he was trying to tear a chunk off that the pain hit him instantly.

She didn't see the shot, it happened far too quick to see the bullet fly through the air or see it hit her husband. But when Eddie's shirt around his right shoulder started to turn berry-red, it ignited (Y/n)'s heart until she was matching the pulse rate of a hummingbird.

Her hands grappled for Eddie, holding his back and scrunching her other hand up in his shirt over his chest to try and keep him upright, but she couldn't.

His name passed her lips like a whisper in the wind and when Eddie's lips parted, (Y/n) could hear the quiet breath he huffed.

There was no expression on his face, his eyes weren't in focus, they were dazed and staring ahead into the distance. His lips parted but he wasn't saying anything and he was barely breathing. It was like someone had refreshed his system and he was completely blank.

But he couldn't stay upright. It felt like hours had passed when barely a second ticked by from the bullet entering his shoulder to Eddie's body tilting backwards.

"Eddie-" (Y/n) curled her hands into fists around his shirt but she couldn't hold him up. He fell too swiftly and with too much weight for (Y/n) to try and keep him on his feet. Her body shuddered and she winced when his fingers stayed puncturing into her back where she knew she would have bruises later.

He crashed down on his back on the pavement, his head bouncing against the concrete slabs harsh enough that it should have cracked his head open.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed on instinct when she started to fall with him but a scream burned at the back of her throat when it felt like the back of her right thigh had suddenly been torn apart or bitten by a rabid dog.

Her knees crashed into the floor and her hands shook against Eddie's chest as she landed with a crash so forceful it sent all the blood down to her legs and her head started to spin. Black and white spots danced in front of her eyes and she let her head bash down into Eddie's chest, gasping to try and keep herself awake and alert, but everything was on fire.

(Y/n) could feel every pounding beat her heart thrashed out. She could feel her heartbeat beneath every inch of her skin and her pulse throbbing in her ears. She felt like her head was going to explode. Bells were ringing in her ears along with her heartbeat. Hot coals surrounded her body that felt like it was melting and scorching hot.

Her knees were aching- her right thigh felt like it had been shredded to ribbons.

"Eddie… Eddie, baby," Words dripped past (Y/n)'s lips but she barely heard her own voice.

She tried to focus herself and move but everything began to shake. Her hands were trembling up and down like she was doing some odd kind of dance but she managed to cradle Eddie's face between her trembling palms. Her thumbs swiped across his face and she tried to tilt his head in her direction.

His eyes were still open but they weren't focusing properly, he was looking through (Y/n) rather than at her. But he was awake. (Y/n) needed him to stay awake.

It was only then that (Y/n) managed to get her ears into focus and she realised she could hear voices around them. She remembered it wasn't just her and Eddie in this situation. Her brother and their team were here too.

"Cap we've got a shooter!"

"Get inside-"

"Eddie's been hit!"

"Get inside- get them inside now."

Hands grappled with (Y/n)'s shoulders and a quiet "No," tumbled past her lips when she felt a chest pressing down into her back and whoever it was nudged her to the side.

She wasn't sure who was holding her back but she began to cry. She had to stay with Eddie. Why weren't they letting her hold Eddie? She had to make sure he was okay and somehow get him inside. (Y/n) had to stay with him; they couldn't try and tear them apart like this.

His name tore past (Y/n)'s lips again and her hands tried to latch around her brother's bicep when Evan crouched in between her and Eddie.

He was working on overdrive. Evan could barely move from the amount of adrenaline that was shooting through his system and it made him feel sick. His thighs burned from how he was crouched, balancing on the heel of his boots while his trembling arms grabbed his brother in law. He looped Eddie's arm around the back of his neck and dug his fingers into Eddie's good shoulder like tallons.

His left hand grabbed Eddie's hip and with some effort, Evan hoisted his brother up onto his shoulder.

"Go!" He all but roared, waving his arm out for Hen and Chimney to get inside with (Y/n). He needed his sister inside with them. She had been hurt too and Evan wasn't sure where she had been hit. He could see the blood soaking down both her legs and pooling on the floor and he dreaded to think where it was coming from.

His legs shook as he bolted through the open doors, trying to stay hunkered down low so he and Eddie were less of a target for anymore bullets. But he heard another gunshot ricochet against the shutters and it made Evan cower.

Why was someone shooting at them? What had they done? They were emergency responders, they saved lives, they didn't take them. There was no reason for someone to be taking revenge out on them.

Why had they shot Evan's family?

"Eddie-" (Y/n) felt a pair of hands on each of her arms and she let them lift her up but as soon as she was on her feet, she screamed.

A banshee howl left her lips and she coiled her right leg up off the floor. Standing on both feet felt like a knife was slicing down from her hip to her toes. Someone was cutting her in two. Someone had taken her husband away from her. She needed to get him back.

Her foot bent at an awkward angle beneath her and she tried to hop on her left foot, dragging her right leg behind her like it was a third, useless limb she didn't need. Her head flopped forward, gluing her eyes to the floor that was littered with tiny flecks of blood like someone had walked by eating strawberries.

Her hands dug into Chimney's arm and shoulder and if she had the energy, (Y/n) would have tried to tell him she could walk. She would of tried to hold herself up if she wasn't drowning in panic.

She barely felt Hen run past her to open the truck doors.

Hen climbed in the back of the truck. Bobby climbed in the driver's seat. Evan and Chimney dragged their family towards the truck. It was their only mode of transport to get out of here and make their way down to the hospital when the ambulance was already out on a call and was far too small to transport them all.

(Y/n) could hear Bobby shouting orders, but his voice sounded quiet and distant like he was shouting from the other side of a lake.

"Lockdown the station when we leave! Nobody in, nobody out!"

A groan rumbled through Eddie's chest and vibrated against the back of his throat when he felt himself suddenly being tilted backwards.

He could barely comprehend why he was suddenly being lifted up by Evan or where he was being taken. The view of the station was blurred. Everything looked like a watercolour painting but the paints were too runny and blending together. Eddie couldn't make sense of anything.

His lungs stuttered and clenched when he was hoisted off of Evan's shoulder and he was held up on his feet by someone behind him and Evan in front of him, gripping his wrists so tightly he was going to snap them.

Evan climbed up the steps, leaning backwards to keep Eddie's weight and keep him stood up. And when he was up, Evan carefully twisted Eddie to the left and laid him down over the seats. He could see the movement sent Eddie's whole body convulsing and he gasped for breath at the feeling of his shoulder coming into contact with the chairs.

"Okay come here; I gotcha." Spinning on his heels, Evan reached his hands down and held onto (Y/n)'s forearms while Chimney stood behind her. She was much easier to manouevre than Eddie, she was alert and responsive and somewhat helpful.

Her nails scratched into Evan's forearms and a choked sound rumbled past her lips when he pulled her up. When her foot caught on the top step, waves of electricity flowed through (Y/n)'s leg and spots danced in front of her eyes as her head fell forward into her brother's shoulder.

"Cap, go, go!" Hen bashed her fist on the roof before the truck came to life and they all jostled forward as Bobby shifted into gear.

(Y/n) thrashed her arms out until her hands planted down on the seats and she let her weight fall down until she was on her knees in the footwell. She stretched her right leg out behind her, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that felt like her whole leg was vibrating with her heartbeat.

It was as if her leg was hanging on by a thread that was about to snap. (Y/n) wished it would. If that thread tore, it might take away the pain. She just wanted it to stop so she could focus on Eddie. He was her priority.

Her chin pressed down on Eddie's good shoulder and her trembling hands clutched his shirt so tightly she popped the first three buttons open.

Her head was pounding. Her eyes couldn't see anything more than Eddie, blurs and stars twinkled all around him like he was an angel or a vision from Heaven. She leaned closer to him when Evan hovered beside her. Evan held onto the headrest to hold himself up while he leaned over Eddie's chest and pressed a large pack of gauze down on the bullet wound.

He winced when Eddie coughed and groaned and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Eddie's head lifted up when pressure pushed down on his shoulder and felt like a hand was physically breaking through the muscle to touch the most sensitive nerves around his bone.

The pressure set something off inside Eddie's body; an extra dose of adrenaline coursed through him and made him a little more alert.

"Are you hurt?" Eddie's voice was gruff as he grunted and managed to flop his head to the left to look over at (Y/n).

He blinked slowly and tried to prize his eyes open wide so he could look her up and down but his vision was going blurry. He was glad his good arm was closest to (Y/n). He flopped his arm off the chair and slumped his hand onto her arm so he could trail his tremoring fingertips over her body.

She had blood smears on her shirt, but he couldn't find an entry wound. She had blood on her face but he couldn't see any cuts. Her breaths were shallow and her body was trembling but Eddie didn't know where she had been hurt.

His fingertips moved down until his hand touched her abdomen and he kept his unfocused eyes on (Y/n) to watch any change in her expression. He moved his hand from left to right, becoming more frantic with each second when she didn't say anything and no one told him if she was hurt or not.

"S-she okay?" Eddie tipped his head back into the seat and coughed when Evan applied more pressure. He was going to bust his shoulder if he pressed down any more than this.

But he tried to look back at (Y/n) when he realised she was only clutching his shirt with one hand. He felt her other hand hold his wrist and press his hand down on her stomach to make him stop checking frantically.

"She's okay."

(Y/n) did her best to smile, despite the tears that were pouring down her face and each breath she took which hitched higher and higher than the last.

Her eyes stayed focused on Eddie, but when she felt Hen applying pressure to the wound on the back of her right leg, (Y/n) couldn't help but cry out. A scream cut past her lips and her eyes snapped closed as she smothered her face down against Eddie's shoulder to try and stay awake when it felt like she was going to pass out.

"Where's she hurt?" Evan took the words right out of Eddie's mouth while he leaned over to try and look his sister up and down. He had seen her fall and heard her cry out, but he didn't see a bullet hit her. Evan had to assume she was hit from the pain she was in and the way she was starting to deteriorate the same as Eddie.

"Right thigh, just above her knee. Someone give me their belt, I need to stop the bleeding."

Chimney leaned back on his heels and yanked his belt free from his trouser loops and handed it over. He moved his hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders and tried to comfort her and keep her still as he moved to press his fingers against her neck to check her pulse.

Another scream mixed with a tepid cry coursed through the air when the belt sank into (Y/n)'s leg like teeth chomping down on her flesh. She could feel her leg and her foot pulsing and throbbing and vibrating like she was a boombox screaming out a beat.

But when (Y/n) lifted her head from Eddie's shoulder, she could see his eyes rolling near the back of his head and his breaths started to pick up and become fast and shallow.

"Just hang in there, two minutes, okay? Stay with us, Eddie." Evan gave Eddie's neck a jostle and tilted his head from side to side to try and keep him conscious. He couldn't fall asleep on them, he had to stay awake and conscious until they got him to the hospital. Why couldn't he stay awake like (Y/n)? He needed to stay alert with them.

"You're gonna be okay, baby." (Y/n) couldn't keep her voice level and she hiccupped through her words as she tried to push closer into the chairs to be next to Eddie.

She swiped her eyes and nose against her sleeve but she could feel her head filling up with air like a balloon. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted everything to stop. She wanted Eddie to wake up properly and be okay. (Y/n) wanted to rewind time and usher them all inside so nobody got hurt.

Why did it have to be Eddie?

Her hand moved to cup the side of his face and she swiped her thumb across his jaw while her other hand dragged through his hair, brushing the curls away from his eyes. She knew he loved it when she carded her fingers through his hair. Maybe this would keep him awake with her.

"We're here! Eddie, come on let's go. Don't you fall asleep on me."

Eddie's head tilted back and he choked, barely able to breathe when he found himself laid back over Evan's shoulder once again. His left hand tried to reach out, but Evan was moving too fast for Eddie to comprehend. He could taste (Y/n)'s name on his lips and feel the way his nerves tingled when he tried to say her name, but it didn't make a difference. He couldn't see her anymore.

Bobby pressed his hand to the back of Eddie's neck and helped Evan carefully lower him down onto the stretcher that was already waiting for them to arrive. Two nurses and a doctor smothered Eddie with an oxygen mask and a pulse monitor on his finger before they began to move him.

A frown pulled on Evan's lips when Eddie gripped his wrist weakly and gave a sharp tug. "What? What?"

Evan tried to move with him but they moved Eddie too fast and his grip wasn't strong enough to pull Evan along with them. But he heard that one word that spluttered past Eddie's lips.

"(Y/n)."

Leaning down, Hen curled her arms around (Y/n) and pulled her back when she tried to crawl forwards after Eddie. Shallow, gasping breaths left (Y/n)'s lips and her hands scratched against the metal floor as she tried to drag herself to the door.

"Eddie-"

"He's with a doctor, which is where we need to take you. He'll be okay, you're both gonna be okay." Chimney reached down for (Y/n)'s left arm and looped it around the back of his neck before he carefully stood up and the pair of them lifted (Y/n) up between them.

Each gasping, startling cry she let out made them wince and they could feel her shaking back and forth between them like she was hypothermic.

Chimney slowly climbed down the steps but he paused when Evan appeared in front of them like an omen. He held his arms out and reached up for (Y/n), taking her weight for her to help her down from the truck.

"We need another stretcher over here! Pregnant lady with a gunshot wound!"

Both (Y/n)'s hands moved to grip Evan's biceps and she tried tilting her head back to look up at him but it only made spots flash in front of her eyes. She could feel her knees buckling and giving in and she was sure she would be laid out on the floor at any given moment.

"Eddie… I w- wh- where's Eddie?"

"It's okay, you'll see him soon. Let's g-"

That was all she needed to hear. Those words acted as a switch in (Y/n)'s brain and everything started to shut down.

Panic sparked through Evan's body like a wildfire when (Y/n)'s head slumped onto his arm and her body went down. He deadlocked his arms around her waist and lifted her up, pinning her chest against his to stop her from hitting the floor while they waited for another stretcher to be rushed over to them.

Evan leaned down and looped his right arm beneath (Y/n)'s legs, cringing and gagging when he felt the blood instantly soak onto his skin and drip down between his fingers.

Oh God.

***

I'm not staying here.

With that thought in mind, (Y/n) tiredly looked around the room she was in and pursed her lips.

She didn't want to be here.

She didn't want to stay here on her own.

The only reason (Y/n) had managed to stay here last night was because she had been dosed up on morphine which knocked her off her senses. She had become coherent enough this morning to realise she was in the hospital.

She was in a small room on her own. Eddie wasn't here. He was somewhere on this floor, in this ward, but he wasn't here. (Y/n) couldn't sleep on her own. She couldn't stand being anywhere on her own and right now, she was alone at night. Evan and Maddie had visited her and stayed with her until the nurses told them they had to leave and come back in the morning.

None of the nurses listened when Maddie told them (Y/n) was liable to try and leave. They thought she was too hyped up on morphine to try and leave, but that was what she was going to do.

Everyone who had been to visit her today had told her Eddie was okay. He had recovered from surgery, his shoulder joint hadn't been hit by the sniper, it was just the muscle that got damaged. Eddie was awake and on the same pain meds as she was and (Y/n) knew Chris was safe at home. And Evan was staying at their house so Chris didn't have to leave the comfort of home so he would feel better without his parents there.

Her hands moved to her face and she brushed away the tears she had been shedding for the last half an hour. All (Y/n) had done since her siblings left was cry. She hated being alone. She couldn't sleep alone at night. The only reason she slept at home when Eddie was on a night shift was knowing that Chris was in the next room.

"I want Eddie."

If she didn't see him, she was going to go insane.

All (Y/n) could see when she closed her eyes was the image of Eddie on the floor with a mixture of their combined blood mingling together against the concrete. How would she know if he was truly okay if she didn't see him with her own eyes?

How did she know her friends and family weren't just lying to her to keep her calm?

Sitting herself up, (Y/n) looked down at the IV line capped into her left hand as she took deep breaths to stop herself from crying. With minimal effort, she paused the IV machine and twisted the cap until it disconnected from the needle in her wrist. She could easily reattach it whenever she decided to come back to this room later.

It took some effort for her to swing her legs over the side of the bed and (Y/n) grimaced at the hospital gown she was wearing.

Maddie promised to bring her and Eddie some of their own clothes tomorrow when she came down to visit them.

The moment her feet touched the floor, (Y/n) grimaced. The morphine didn't take all the pain away. Granted, it had done yesterday, but recovering from the anaesthetic probably helped numb everything else.

When she was up on her feet, (Y/n) stretched both arms out and hobbled over to the wall. She planted her hands down on the wall, lifted her right leg until her toes barely scraped the floor, and started to hop. It was a lot of effort and her stomach churned and twisted, but she had to persevere.

She had to find Eddie.

More tears stained her face as she quietly opened the door and hobbled out. It felt like she was a cripple with only one leg. Her right leg was practically useless in this state anyway and the nurses hadn't found her a walker or any crutches yet. They were supposed to be trying to get (Y/n) up and out of bed tomorrow, but she needed to move around now so she could find her husband.

(Y/n) crossed to the other side of the corridor so she was leaning on the wall on her right. Her shoulder and arm pinned into the wall as if she was about to slouch down to the floor and she hopped and shuffled along, trying not to make a sound so no one noticed. She could always say she was going to the bathroom if anyone asked.

Her eyes squinted in the dim light to read the names written in whiteboard marker outside each room.

She scanned along them and passed about five different rooms until her heart jumped into her throat and her eyes locked on a familiar name.

Diaz.

Here he was. She'd found him.

Her teeth sank down in her lower lip as she dragged her limp, useless leg behind her and crossed to the room opposite. She was relieved Eddie wasn't on a ward. It wouldn't do her any favours to be sneaking into the men's ward in the middle of the night when she didn't know who else would be in there.

She opened the door as quietly as she could and peeked her head round. (Y/n) wasn't sure what she thought she was going to see. Maybe she thought Eddie would somehow get visitors to stay through the night with him whereas she wouldn't. Or maybe she thought he wouldn't actually be in here, that this was a mistake and something had happened to him like she dreaded.

But when she hobbled over the threshold and looked ahead, her stomach started to flutter with adrenaline and she scratched her hand across her neck to remind herself to breathe.

There he was. He didn't look comfy. It wasn't like Eddie to sleep on his back, it wasn't something he did. When they were at home (Y/n) was used to him laying in funny positions with one leg hanging off the bed or she would wake in the morning to have him wrapped around her like a second blanket.

But here Eddie was, laid uncomfortably on his back with his right arm pinned to his chest in a sling. He had pushed the cover down so it barely covered his knees and he had his good arm flopped above his head on the pillow.

(Y/n) knew he was a light sleeper so she turned and shut the door with a little pressure to wake him rather than stand beside him and frighten him awake.

His head snapped forward within a second and he groaned, clicking his neck from left to right while his eyes adjusted to the dim light seeping in from the corridor.

"Baby?" Eddie's voice was gruff and deep. He lifted his arm from the pillow and dragged his hand across his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Before he moved to look at his left arm. He wasn't connected to an IV; they took him off it just before he went to sleep and said they would start him on another one in the morning.

He wasn't dosed on morphine anymore, conjuring up the image of his wife in front of him to make himself feel better. So why was she here? She should be back in her own room. Resting. Safe and sound until one of the nurses finally listened to Eddie's beligerent badgering about taking him down to see his wife.

"Baby… what are you doing?"

He pushed himself up so he was sitting up in bed, rubbing at his stiff neck before he squinted at her through his lashes. He watched her drag her fingers across her neck and over her chest; something he recognised as a nervous habit.

When she tried to step forward, she noted the way Eddie took a sharp breath. She could barely walk. She was limping and she had to reach out and grab the bed frame to hold herself up.

"I got lonely," (Y/n)'s voice was meek and timid but she tried to smile. She didn't want to be in that room on her own any longer. Why couldn't she be in the same room as Eddie? They were both patients with similar injuries. And they were both more liable to stay and listen to the doctor's orders if they were together and comfortable instead of separated and panicked.

She watched Eddie's eyes rake up and down her frame, but it was the way his lips pulled into a deep frown and his eyes narrowed on her that made (Y/n) shrink in on herself and wince.

"Jesus baby, you shouldn't be walking about! You could hurt yourself, you know that?"

"I can't sleep on my own." She tried to keep her tone light and force herself to smile, but Eddie's stern expression and his demanding voice made her stomach twist.

"You could tear your stitches or burst a blood vessel if you're not careful. Baby you can't-"

"I'm scared."

A tremor rattled through Eddie's chest and caused a sharp pain to strike his heart when he realised (Y/n)'s eyes were watering. He could feel his lungs shrivelling up in his chest and his shoulders sagged, despite the pain it caused.

She didn't want to be on her own. Not when being apart from Eddie meant she had nightmares that he didn't get here in time. She had to see him, touch him, be with him to convince herself that he was okay. Being on her own left her mind free to torment her. To see Eddie drop down in a pool of blood. To feel her leg ache and pound like it was going to fall off. To have her hands cradling her stomach, fretting that she was going to lose their baby.

It was too scary to be alone. (Y/n) wanted company; she wanted Eddie.

(Y/n) was torn between wanting to run forward and wanting to leave if Eddie was going to be mad with her. But her watering eyes widened when Eddie threw the cover to one side and waved his good hand towards her.

"Get in here."

As soon as she was within reach, Eddie curled his good arm around (Y/n)'s waist and helped her ease down onto the bed. He laid down and pulled her with him, suddenly feeling his own sense of peace when they laid down together. This was why he couldn't settle early in the morning when the drugs wore off. This was why Eddie felt uncomfortable all day and got irritable when any visitor walked through the door. They weren't (Y/n). He wasn't whole without her.

He turned his head to the left and smothered his nose and lips against the top of her head, breathing in her scent like it was the most addictive drug in the hospital.

He felt her head snuggle down into his chest and she bound her arm around his torso, clinging to him like someone was suddenly going to walk in and tear her out of his arms. He wouldn't let them. He wouldn't let anyone take her away from him; especially not if she was frightened.

"Do you feel okay? All I got off Buck was 'she's fine, she's fine' and that didn't really wash well with me."

They had run Eddie through what had happened and told him where (Y/n) had been shot because he remembered she was hurt, but he didn't remember where. It was a relief to know the bullet went in her leg. Any higher and it could have hit a vital organ. Any higher and it would have hit the baby.

But no one would tell Eddie much because at first he wasn't lucid enough and then he tried to leave the room when he wasn't allowed. He was promised he could see her tomorrow, but holding her tonight was so much better.

"Just achy… my thigh stings a bit, but it's okay. How about you?" (Y/n) tilted her head up and nuzzled her face into Eddie's neck so she could be closer to him.

Her lips attached to his neck and she pressed a tender kiss there just beneath the stubble that was starting to grow in.

"It's familiar, being used to it helps. And it didn't hit the bone, thank God." It was strange to think that he was used to the feeling of being shot. Eddie didn't think it was a feeling he would ever have to have again after he left the army.

But having some experience with this feeling definitely helped. He knew how to avoid the pain and how to push through it, and he thanked God that his shoulder joint had been missed. He couldn't be dealing with more operations or physio and time off work to try and patch it back together. And he had to recover so he could hold his baby girl without a struggle when she arrived.

With that thought in mind, Eddie carefully slid his hand over from (Y/n)'s hip until his fingers grazed along her stomach. His touch was light and delicate at first, but when (Y/n) didn't wince or groan or pull away, he pressed his palm down over her gown so he could cup her stomach.

"How's she doing?"

"Her heartbeat settled down this afternoon after the shock wore off… I haven't lost any fluid, and she keeps kicking me. They think she's gonna be fine."

Maddie had made her smile when she said (Y/n) was now special. Rather than bi-weekly checks, for the past two days (Y/n) had been getting almost hourly checks on the baby. When her heartbeat evened out this afternoon, they made a note of it.

Since the placenta and baby were still in place and her vitals were fine and (Y/n) hadn't lost any fluid, they were confident the baby was going to be just fine. But (Y/n) could still have checks throughout the day until she left, and she would be on close monitoring when she was discharged.

"Good, you had me worried."

"Me? What about you, you scared me Eddie. I thought- I thought…" (Y/n) knew exactly what she thought, but she didn't have the willpower to voice it.

She didn't want to say it outloud. It was hard enough to admit to herself that she thought Eddie wasn't going to make it to the hospital. The thought of having to go through life without Eddie wasn't something (Y/n) could contemplate.

She couldn't bring up Chris on her own. She couldn't go through labour and have this baby without him. (Y/n) couldn't do any of that without Eddie by her side.

Her lips rolled together tightly to stop herself from crying and she smothered her face in the side of his neck when his arm tightened around her waist. She could feel his fingers feathering up and down her stomach and he tilted his head to the side so he could kiss the top of her head.

"It's gonna take more than a bullet to take me away from you."

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #bobby nash #maddie buckley

[evergreenfields]

In Another Life

Hurt, no comfort, I’m ready to break my own heart.

Your flatmate is dating Soap and he’s everything you want.

Pairing: Soap x your female flatmate, one sided female reader x Soap, Captain Price x reader.

CW: low self esteem, character death (spoiler, not explicit), catcalling, voyeurism, masturbation, PIV sex.

A/n: I hella projected lol. Reader is broken.

——

Soap is dating your flatmate.

Most men that your flatmate brought home were wet wipes, but this guy was some kind of special forces. His eyes were electric blue and he had the thickest eyelashes, he went by Johnny but he also went by Soap, you never learned why. You had to mentally pinch yourself while staring at him, he was everything you wanted in a partner. You hated the creamy mess in your underwear when you were in his company.

He was muscled and shaped like an upside down triangle, you had to look away when he would pop out from their room in the night. Muttering “sorry ‘scuse me” as you squeeze past the narrow corridor, ignoring the rumble of his “no no, I’m taking up all the room, lass.”

You caught his thighs and bulge in his compression shorts when he left for a run in the morning. Later, your flatmate traipsed into the kitchen muttering “I can hardly walk after last night, let alone run!”

You laugh and slap her arm playfully as you leave the room. You’re an expert at that now. That’s not to say you were never happy for her, but your phone was currently not blowing up with your latest dating app matches.

——

On the off chance Soap arrived when you were coming out of the shower, he only ever looked at your eyes and quickly got out of your way. He only had eyes for your flatmate. You got to your room and stood in front of the mirror and wondered what your flatmate and other women had that you didn’t.

——

Soap was full of energy, ready for a laugh but very protective. You would listen from your room when he dropped her off late at night after a raucous night out on the town.

“Call me tomorrow, alright?” His voice is muffled.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just call me when you wake up. You look like you need a lie in tomorrow. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

Tomorrow morning comes and Soap is early with a bag of food from a brunch spot nearby, he even brought you a coffee too. You thank him too much, maybe it wasn’t the coffee you were thanking him for.

——

Your flatmate and Soap came home late one night absolutely drunk out of their minds, they wobbled through the front door trying to dance to a song playing on his phone. They see you and it’s like they have heart eyes.

“Y/n, it’s y/n, THE GOAT!” Your roommate yells.

“The GOAT!” Soap hollers.

They both flop into the sofa either side of you. They’re too drunk to notice your teary eyes. You pushed the soggy tissue into your sleeve.

A dance tune starts up and before you can even recognise it, Soap bounces up with hands held out towards you both.

Your roommate grabs one hand.

You’re next.

You take Soap’s hand and you arc off the sofa, he’s strong.

You’re pressed up against his side. He’s hard, large and warm, you try not to enjoy the bodily contact as you all boogie to the song. You start to smile until you remember he isn’t yours.

——

“It’s only 2 days but I’m so excited,” she talks about her friend’s wedding in the south of France, “I’m wearing this dress” she flicks through her phone gallery “and Johnny is going to wear a kilt!” Muscled calves, big smile and rugged hands clasped at his front, Johnny looked like a million bucks.

“I love it, you’ll match!” You managed to squeeze out. You imagine the memories they’ll make and photos they’ll take. That night you have a 2nd date, you are excited by the fact he has asked you out again. It filled you with something resembling happiness.

You are meant to meet at a station out of town but you couldn’t find him at the small station and the path towards the car park was unlit and dodgy. When your date found you, he was annoyed that he had to pay for parking. He kept throwing red flags at you.

But still you slept with him because you wanted to feel touched and desired. You regretted it and then you had to take the train home later that night because he “had an early start to work tomorrow.” You wrapped your jacket around yourself to keep out some of the cold, trying not to be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to make you orgasm or show any aftercare. You delete his number from your phone.

Later that weekend, the duo arrived home.

“We bought you back some chocolate!” Your flatmate says, Johnny swings his bag off his back, he passes it to you with 2 hands like it's a bar of gold. It could have been, with the way you looked at it.

“Aww guys you didn’t have to.” Your mouth is dry.

“Johnny found it, I didn’t know you were a sea salt and caramel fan!”

You put the chocolate in a drawer because you didn’t want to get used to tastes you couldn’t indulge in.

——

“He’s a prick, forget about him.” Your flatmate says pointedly about a new guy you were dating.

“Oi who’s a prick?” Soap walks into the kitchen, taking your flatmate’s waist in his hand.

“No one-“ you turn away.

“A fuck boy that y/n isn’t seeing any more.” Your flat mate sounds proud by what wasn’t her decision.

“He isn’t a fuck boy.” You know you’ll regret clarifying the point, “we didn’t fuck, so he’s not. He’s just a prick.” You and the conversation. Soap whistles.

Later that night when you’re washing the dishes, Soap approaches you.

“Listen, forget about that guy,” he says low, you’d follow that voice anywhere.

“Thanks.” You squeak quietly.

“You will find what you're looking for, keep pushing and you’ll look back on this shite with a smile, maybe a misty eye, ey?” He bends forward to catch your eyes as you were trying to avoid them.

He smiles, you smile. He leaves, you remain.

The suds disappear and you turn off the tap, left in silence.

That night, they have muted sex, you hear their attempts at muffling moans and stifling strained grunts. You hear the bed frame squeak on the last hardest thrusts, then silence for a while. You imagine they feel warm, tingly and flushed, chests heaving. Eventually you hear footsteps come and go from the bathroom, the toilet flush going and the door shuts again. You wait for your heart rate to stabilise and your heart ache to subside.

——

“We’re going to the pub, wanna join us? Johnny’s friends are going to be there.” Your flatmate asks you.

You wonder if they’re as hot, funny and protective. You tell yourself you’re just going along for a chat, but part of you hopes it leads to something more; you put the hopeless in hopeless romantic. Put yourself out there, that’s what everyone says.

You wear a nice outfit that makes you feel pretty, your confidence isn’t abundant but you’re feeling yourself.

You arrive at the pub, you meet them, you chat, you drink, you leave.

Nothing about the evening was bad, his team were really nice, all huge and charming in their own ways. Their Captain was a greyhound with an intense gaze that seemed to follow you. Gaz’s girlfriend arrived and you thought you heard some rumblings about Ghost being pushed to date.

The Captain was receptive to you, leaning in to listen, you thought you saw him glance at your lips and legs. He helped you off the tall stool you were sitting on, taking you by your waist to help you down. You know not to push, men hated when women pushed. Well, they hated when you pushed. And you didn’t want to make anything awkward between you and your flatmate. So you left without asking for his phone number or a date, but he hugged you tightly and held your gaze for longer than you thought usual.

When all three of you got home, your flatmate shouted at the top of her lungs “you and the Captain huh?! Practically undressing each other with your eyes!” You laugh and immediately feel your ears going red. You were stoked that someone else noticed because you thought it was all in your head, as it usually was.

You didn’t notice Soap put a hand out to stop her.

“Babe. Babe-“ he says “don’t go there.”

Your heart tightens. Your flatmate puts her hands on her hips, confused and a little offended as if to say ‘I know what I saw.’

“It ain’t like that, the Captain is… Price is… Look, he’s married to the job.” Brows knitted, the jovial spirit replaced with seriousness, “we don’t sit around and talk about it but he ain’t the type to mess around.”

You play it off “we were just talking, it’s not a big deal.”

It hurts when Soap says “good, because he’s a lifer.”

You close the door to your bedroom and mull Soap’s words in your tormented mind. The fuzziness you felt replaced by emptiness.

Part of you willed it to be wrong, that you were the woman to pull the Captain out of his self fulfilling and self imposed prophecy. You almost laughed at your audacity.

“I can’t even get a text back, why would he be interested?” You stare at the ceiling, the alcohol left your system and the room was uncomfortably still.

——

“You like tha’, lass?” you hear Soap rasp, you’re not sure if he’s taking her from behind or if he’s on top of her. The faint slaps, skin on skin, indicate it’s either doggy or the standing position your flatmate had once whispered about. The loud moans indicate it’s good.

You don’t breathe. You just listen.

“Oh god, Johnny please!” Your flatmate whines, the force of his thrusts evident in her stuttering voice.

You close your eyes and see yourself with Soap under you, knees folded under his bulging arms, hips pistoning into you with ferocious need. You argue with yourself but then you quickly surrender and slip your hand into your knickers. You draw tight circles on your clit while your eyes burn with tears unfallen. Undiluted shame and need fills you. You breathe sharply through your nose and then hold your breath, staying as quiet as possible. Both of your hearts raced, thumping against your ribs.

“Tha’s it,” you hear his muffled voice grunt. You imagine his massive hand grasping your breast, your hand follows. Their bed frame groans but yours is silent. Your flatmate’s voice gets higher in pitch and she comes loudly, he grunts, swears, the mattress squeaks. You push two fingers into yourself and quickly find your spongy spot, electricity rolls through you.

You come undone shakily and silently, tears springing immediately from your eyes as you ride the wave of your orgasm. Your hand clasps across your mouth as you try to stem the noise of your sobs. You feel disgusted and disgusting. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves. You check your phone, no text from him. You manage to fall into a restless sleep.

——

One night, you and your flatmate encountered an asshole at the station.

“Nice bit of skirt, that.” He leers at your flatmate.

“Fuck off, you prick!” You shout back without breaking stride, not caring he was bigger than you. This confidence was new to you. Or was it anger?

When you arrived at the music venue, your flatmate told Soap what happened, you couldn’t hear them as the music was loud and you were at the bar. You could see the look of concern and regret on his face. He stormed over to you and he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” he says to your temple. He releases you but keeps his arm around your shoulder as you wait at the bar, his weight is comforting and protective. He then helps you carry the drinks over.

He adds “I’m sorry Gaz and Cap couldn’t make it, paperwork.” You’d heard that one before but this time you gave yourself the benefit of believing it.

During the gig was a slow acoustic song that hit a little too close to home so you snuck out to the toilet to wait it out.

But you could still hear the music as you leaned against the stall and picked at your nails, doing breathing exercises you’d read about, through your tears.

——

You began to feel like the only man in your life. You even treated yourself to a massage because the touch deprivation reached a fever pitch.

You scroll through the website trying to find an available masseuse. Their headshots were small but you were on the lookout for a man with a thick neck and prominent traps, you knew the silhouette you were looking for. Your masseuse didn’t have a Mohawk but he was close enough that when you closed your eyes, his hands, his pressure and weight became Johnny’s.

——

You were invited again to a party with the squad, moods were good but there were hints of them being away for an extended mission. While you heeded what Soap said about Price, you wanted to know it from the horse's mouth. You bantered with the Captain, and he bantered back, at first. It turned to flirting and you playfully slapped his bicep, joking that you could drink him under the table, knowing well enough that you couldn’t. You ignored the looks from Gaz and Ghost - it’s like they knew something you didn’t. And they did.

You found yourself outside with Price. He’d asked only you to come outside, you felt giddy at the prospect of him wanting to be alone with you. He was smoking a cigar, you stared at the lit end, hoping it revealed some kind of secret you could finally be privy to.

It was cold outside, bitterly cold.

“You’re a lovely girl, y/n, you’re, smart, pretty, ballsy,” he says, almost to himself. You’re immediately familiar with the tone. What came next would hurt. Your breathing quickens and there’s a pit in your stomach.

“I’m not in a place where I can give you what you want, what you deserve, darlin’.”

The alcohol seemed to dissipate from your system. Rejection was one hell of a way to sober up. You look down at your shoes and chew your lip to stop it from trembling.

You knew better than to beg, to make compromises, to ask for a chance. Nothing would convince him. Maybe another woman could. But not me. So you turned to humour because it was safer than being vulnerable.

With wet eyes and wobbly voice than you couldn’t hide, you say “so you think I’m pretty?”

He hits you with a look that you’ll never forget.

“In another life-“ he quietly began.

You cut him off, agreeing, “in another life.”

You both went indoors and you summoned a smile from the deepest recesses of your being. You left early that night.

——

It was with bated breath that you left your room ready for your date. You were in a beautiful outfit that did wonders for your confidence. You spun around a few times in the mirror.

Johnny was at the foot of the stairs and he looked at you with his big blue eyes, you’re sure you saw his pupils grow. Your phone buzzed but you ignored it because you enjoyed being under his gaze.

“Look at you! He’s a lucky lad!”

“Wait, let me see!” Your flatmate's voice came from the kitchen.

Your phone buzzed again. You pull it out to see a stream of texts from your date.

“Oh you look gorgeous, girl!” You barely hear your flatmate. Blood rushes to your ears.

You read out the text message.

“Sorry can’t make it, hungover lol.” You sound distant, as if it wasn’t related to you.

“Fucking prick.” Soap says with no hesitation.

“Y/n…. Babe.” Your flatmate pulls you into a hug but you’re limp and embarrassed.

“Fuck it, I’m going out anyway!” You exclaim, pretending to be okay you practically rush out of the door.

The door shuts behind you. You want to cry but you squeeze your eyes shut and start to walk towards the station. You don’t last long, your vision is wet and nose runny. You end up at a riverside cafe, watching the world go by without you. What a shitty year, you tell yourself.

——

You hear a hushed conversation a week before Soap is due to leave for a few weeks. You kept your headphones on and nodded at them when you walked past, giving them privacy.

You wish you could be in someone’s inner circle, but instead you were grateful you could float around theirs. You put a mental reminder in to take your flatmate to dinner while Soap was away and to keep her from watching the news.

——

“Turn it down!” You yell at your flatmate while you go to answer the door, the radio is on blast while you both cook.

Through the peephole you see the unmistakable beard of Captain Price.

“Oh John, hi!” You can’t hide that you’re happy to see him. But then you notice his grave expression.

“Hi love, sorry to come by unannounced,” he’s standing straighter and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is your flatmate around?”

“Yeh, come in.” Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to call out, your flatmate is already by the door.

“No,” she recognises the look.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Price says quietly.

“Oh god no!” She cries out and sobs, her entire body shakes.

You put your arms around her but your eyes are on Price, wet and unflinching, waiting for the confirmation of the news.

His blue eyes are overcast and tired, he nods and looks down.

“We’ll have to take you onto base if you wish to go through matters,” Price says quietly. You helped your flatmate get her coat on, understanding that you couldn’t go with her.

Price dropped her home later that night, you plated up some food for her but she couldn’t eat. You hugged each other on the sofa until one of you fell asleep first.

It felt like Soap would be bursting through the door with his infectious energy at any moment, but the silence was deafening.

——

You weren’t invited to the funeral as it was behind closed doors. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you went from crying to intense panic attacks to bouts of guilt. You missed him, you missed his presence. You thought about the way his eyes would light up when you suggested shots at the pub, how he’d walked you both home and how safe you felt. Sure he wasn’t holding your hand but for a moment, you felt wanted, taken care of and significant. You felt terrible for mourning someone else’s partner so deeply and intimately.

Price came by a few times in the next few months, sometimes you were home, sometimes you weren’t. When your flatmate finally came out of her room, her eyes red and complexion weak, she would walk around the house like an apparition.

“I can’t do this without him!” She would plead, “I miss him so much.” You rubbed her back, silently wiping your tears, telling her you were sorry, over and over.

“John came by today, he sends his best.” She says.

“Bless him,” you say quietly, trying not to read too much into it, because all the meaning you longed for wouldn’t come.

“You never told me what happened with you both that night.” She asks, brows knitted in concern for you while her heart was shattered.

“Soap was right about him.” You said, “and that’s okay.” You breathed, hoping the more you said it the more you would believe it.

——

‘What cannot be said will be wept’ you read the quote over and over, you’d seen it online and it immediately brought Price into your mind.

His visits became less frequent, but he came by again to check in with your flatmate. He looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to pull him into an embrace and comfort him.

“Come in, she just got in the shower, want a tea while you wait?”

It had been 6 months since the news.

“How are you holding up?” Price asked.

“M’okay, trying to be there for her as best I can.”

“I know it isn’t easy for you either.” He said, “you’re doing good by her, you’re a good friend.”

Guilt and shame rushes through your system, you didn’t feel like a good friend.

“He was so good to her-” you start to sob, hands across your mouth, willing it to stay inside so you never have to confront how you really felt about him.

You’re surprised to be suddenly in his embrace. John consumes you, you’re completely surrounded by him. You grip his jacket, afraid to let go. His right hand rubbed your shoulder blades and his left hand held onto your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything John, you haven’t done anything wrong.” You sounded throaty.

“I made you believe in something I couldn’t give you.” His voice is quiet, you feel it against his chest.

“In another life,” you manage to sob his phrase back to him, he can feel you inhaling hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Another life.” He says back, kissing your head.

“Take care of yourself, John” you say with a ragged voice looking straight into his eyes. You grab your bag and push past him out of the door. You can still see his sad eyes in your mind.

Immediately you regret leaving while he was still available and present. But then you think if he wanted to say more he’d have done so. Life is choices, he made his choice. And I wasn’t one of them. Your legs take you away from him, into the bitter cold.

#cod fanfic #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #john price x female reader #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #codfanfic

[saras-almanac]

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

Title:  What we have

Fandom:  911 (ABC)

Pairing:  Buck/Tommy

Summary:  Buck had complicated feelings after they run into Abby. Luckily, Tommy is there to comfort him. For the prompt: A figure from their past for @bucktommyweek

Notes: I have a lot of thoughts about Abby and her relationship with Buck (plus just thoughts on her character in general). And this is a part of something much longer I’d written but it was just bits and pieces—the meeting, the aftermath, Tommy talking with Athena or Maddie, this scene—just too much going on and too much to write in a day when my brain was still coming up with the actual idea for this. So this is what I’ve got.  

Tommy hadn’t thought much of this meeting Abby at the time. Apparently she was in town for some meeting or other for one of her stepdaughters and him and Evan had happened to run into her as they were leaving the restaurant they had brunch at.

Evan had gotten a bit quiet but smiled and politely introduced him as “This is Tommy,” before Abby started telling him about her life. It was about three minutes of a quick catch up before Evan and him continued on their way out and honestly, Tommy hadn’t thought it was strange.

But now It’s been over a week since he’d last seen Evan and he was trying not to worry or get caught up in his own head about what this all might mean. He was off today, so maybe Tommy could convince him to meet up for lunch or at least just talk later today.

Thankfully the doorbell rang at that moment, pulling Tommy out of his potential spiral.

He opened the door and there stood Evan, holding two coffees and a bag of food.

“I brought coffee and burritos,” Evan said.

Tommy ushered him in and followed him to the kitchen. “It’s been a minute. But I’m happy to see you.”

“Me too.” Evan set everything on the counter, dropping his duffel on the floor, and then turned to him, basically wrapping himself around Tommy.

“Is everything all right?”” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” Evan said. “I mean, it’s getting there?”

“Would you want to tell me about what you’re thinking about?” Tommy asked, pulling away and gently pushing Evan toward the stool by his counter. “While you eat a little something.”

Evan sat down but made no move toward his food. He sighed. “I told you about Abby. My ex. The one we ran into a couple weeks ago.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I mean, a little.”

“Right, well seeing her sort of threw me off—Not because I’m dating you or freaking out about my bisexuality and stuff,” Evan rushed to reassure him. “It just… I guess it just brought a lot of old feelings, things that trigged some old insecurities. And I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, it’s been years and looking back, it’s not even like we were really together together so I don’t know really what happened.”

“Feelings can be surprising,” Tommy said. “They come back around in the strangest ways sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “But I don’t even think about her anymore. I don’t. I’m not like in love with her or want her back or anything--I swear.”

“I didn’t think you did, but thank you for the reassurance,” Tommy said. “Seeing people who used to play a big part in our lives brings up a lot of emotions. And that’s okay.”  

“That’s what Dr. Copeland said too,” Evan said shaking his head. “I called her because it just triggered a lot of feelings, feelings of insecurity that I thought I’d dealt with. But when you come face-to-face with your biggest failure those feelings can come back.”

“You and Abby not working out is not a failure,” Tommy said.

“I know that. Now,” Evan said. “But it’s what happened when I saw her again. It was my first relationship where I did everything right. I followed everyone’s advice, everyone’s ideas, followed Abby’s lead. I did everything I was supposed to. And she left anyway. Which, I don’t have to tell you made me panic and worry about you, about us.”

“Well, I’d argue that we haven’t’ done anything right in the way that other people would have it or do it,” Tommy said, nudging Evan with his shoulder. “But I also can’t’ say that we’ve done nothing right because a look where we are, what we have.”

“That’s what I realized,” Evan admitted. “At least part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Tommy asked.

“So it’s like this,” Evan said, amping up and already starting to gesture with his hands. “I think I thought so highly of Abby for so long, right? She was this woman who was mature and knew what she wanted and had a whole life and still wanted me; it’s like she made me better or at least want to be a better man. And after she left, I was terrified that she’d taken that part of me with her, the mature Buck, the guy who was dependable and worthy.”

Tommy clenched his jaw because he hated hearing Evan talk about himself in terms of worthiness or usefulness. Granted, it was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, but Tommy usually operated under a “do as I say, not as I do” policy.

“And seeing her again, seeing her with you just put so much into perspective for me,” Evan said. “I always thought of her as my first real relationship, but seeing her next to you, knowing what we have, how you treat me, it finally dawned on me that we didn’t have a relationship. Or we did, but like not the one I wanted, the one I thought we had.”

Tommy gently moved the coffees out of the way. “And what was that?”

“I thought we had this amazing relationship where we could be ourselves, someone I could share myself with and someone who wanted that too,” Evan said. “But I think I was just a physical presence for her during a hard time in her life. Someone who was there, who helped shoulder some of the weight, and then someone she just left behind because I didn’t matter to her. Not like I wanted to.”

Evan sighed. “And then I just saw her standing next to you and couldn’t help but think about all the things you know about me, the things you like about me, and I realized that she never really knew me at all.”

“It doesn’t sound like she did,” Tommy said gently, carefully. “Because if she had, I doubt she’d have been able to leave.”

“See and that,” Evan said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s hand. “You’d never do that to me. To anyone really. You’d never just take off, knowing you were done with me, without telling me. Yeah, it would crush me to lose you, but you’d still at least tell me. You wouldn’t leave me hanging on, waiting for any words of our future when you had no plans to come back.”

Evan squeezed his hand between both of his. “I just, I love you so much and I feel so lucky to have you in my life that sometimes I panic that I’m not quite good enough for you. And I want to be.”

Tommy reached out, cradling Evan’s cheek in his hand. “You are good enough. You’re more than good enough for me.”

“Even when I’m having a crisis and stupidly keep myself from you for 12 days?” Evan asked.

“Even then,” Tommy assured him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

#i love supportive emotionally mature conversations so that's what we have here #might expand on this more in the future which is likely a thing i'm going to say for each of these since i'm writing them all this weekend #bucktommy #bucktommyweekend #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #my fic

[callumsgirl]

ONE SHOT

midnight summer

or: the first time Gale realizes that he has romantic and mostly sexual feelings for John they're still in fighter school. It just takes one summer night, laying outside in the gras, looking at the stars and Bucky telling him a story with his low, husikily voice. That's all Gale needs to allow his heart and mind to opens up for his feelings and when Bucky come closer and kiss him there is no holding back anymore.

(pre-war Buck and Bucky)

Fighterschool US Air Force, a warm midsummer night...

The week was finally over. Gale sighed in quiet exhaustion and slumped back on his elbows, the soft, lukewarm grass touching his legs and lower back. It was August and although the sun had long since disappeared over the horizon, there was still a pleasant warmth in the air and the crickets were chirping in the distance. It was still overwhelming to sit on the wing of a B-17 and watch the sunset. Watching the sky slowly turn yellow-orange and then deep pink and red was simply unforgettable. Gale loved those balmy summer evenings when they weren't flying and he had the time to sit alone on a wing - in between all the hustle and bustle of the day - and write in his leather-covered notebook and think about John and home as the sun went down.

He felt heated and the longer he sat in the grass, the more the tiredness continued to fight its way to the surface. Gale had been awake since 0500 and had had several hours of theory lessons, sports and a flying session. His muscles burned with exhaustion and the dull feeling of contentment spread through his chest as he finally leaned back completely until he lay flat on his back in the grass and closed his eyes. He could lay here forever, he thought and smiled.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the mingled voices and laughter of some guys. They were all sitting together around the campfire, telling stories. Basically, they all got on well, and yet at the end of the day it was one big tussle, like a motley family. Each of them wanted to be the best pilot - and some days it was Buck and Bucky, others it was some guys from another squadron. 

"Are you awake?" John asked in a raspy voice and Gale hummed softly as he felt Bucky drop into the soft grass beside him. John was so close to him that he could feel his body heat and smell his unique scent. He took a deep breath and inhaled the heady mixture of soap, aftershave and John. Hmm, heavenly.

Gale grumbled and opened his eyes a crack when he felt John press his knee against Gale's: "Hmmm, what's up, John?"

"I miss girls...god damn I miss their soft curves...and losing myself in them. Do you ever think about girls, Buck?", Bucky murmured in a low, raspy voice, sending a shiver down Gale's arms. His heartbeat quickened and, with his eyelids still half open, he blinked and felt himself blushing. Bent in the darkness, he was glad John couldn't see his embarrassment, even if he knew John knew. He knew Gale pretty well - probably better than he knew himself. That wasn't just because of the countless hours they'd spent together in the cockpit, but also because of the time they'd spent together besides flying.

While John had always been the loud, outspoken type, Gale had tended to hold back on such topics of conversation. Talking about his bedtime stories had never occurred to him before, but John would tease a few details out of him now and again. He usually embarrassed Buck, but at the same time he felt safe with John.

Gale remembered the first lukewarm evening they had spent here at the air base and to his surprise Bucky had started talking about women, their beautiful curves and their soft lips. He had remained silent, blushing and staring at the tips of his feet and then later into the campfire, while the other blokes had talked loudly and laughed about their conquests and sex. It had made Buck uncomfortable. Partly because he wasn't the loud type and partly because he realised how much less experience he had in all these things. So much less experience than John and when later that evening, on the way back to their lodgings building, he had held him by the elbow and forced him to slow his steps, his heart had almost stopped. 

Bucky's fingertips had brushed over the curve of his elbow and, slightly drunk, Bucky had grinned at him so irresistibly and curiously at the same time. His voice was hoarse and almost lost in the darkness, but Gale had heard his words perfectly. 

"Why were you so quiet tonight, Cleven? Don't you like talking about women?"

Gale had swallowed hard and shaken his head gently. He felt heat flush his face again and his cheeks turn red as he murmured softly and a little hesitantly, "It's just not my way to talk about women, John. Besides, you talk enough for both of us."

"There's some truth to that," Bucky laughed and Gale smiled slightly. "But you've had girls at home, right?" he chuckled, almost tripping over his feet. Just in time, Gale wrapped an arm around John's waist and pulled him close to the side of his own body. The moment Bucky's warm, minty, slightly wiskey-scented breath brushed his cheek and he blinked at him under half-closed eyelids, Gale knew that John was slowly becoming more than just a friend to him. 

When Gale hesitated and didn't answer the question directly, John pressed himself half a step closer to his body and lifted an arm to cup his palm around the back of his neck. It wasn't the first time John had come so close to him physically and yet it felt so different, more intense and somewhere more intimate than ever before. Buck swallowed hard and moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as he looked expectantly and a little nervously into Bucky's blue eyes. He watched the corners of John's mouth twitch softly and playfully before he murmured, "Or am I completely off base and you're still a virgin, Buck?"

He widened his eyes slightly and shook his head. What, he thought angrily. Gale may have been quieter and less extroverted than John and a lot of the other blokes, but he wasn't really a prude. He just wanted sex to mean something to him.

"No," Gale mumbled and his arm, still wrapped around Bucky's hips, tensed slightly. "I've had girls at home, but I'm just not the type of guy to fuck around without a care in the world." His words spilled from his lips without another moment's thought. He sounded more biting than he had intended and then pressed his lips together. But luckily for him, John only chuckled again and moved a little closer. So close that John's lips were now brushing the shell of his ear and Gale inevitably held his breath. "Your words almost hurt me, Buck...if you weren't so damn beautiful and important to me."

"You're drunk, Bucky. Let me take you to bed." Teasingly, he'd tried to deflect the attention away from himself and thank God John had been drunk and relaxed because he'd dropped the subject and they'd walked the rest of the way quietly side by side. 

Buck hesitated for a moment as he was thrown back to the present by the memory.

"Buck, do you ever think about girls?" John repeated quietly.

He blinked and frowned slightly as confusing thoughts collided in his head and he felt slightly dizzy. One of them made him pause and he thought first of Marge - his beautiful Marge. Her soft blonde hair, her delicate features and her warmth and kindness. His best friend from childhood was truly beautiful and yet, apart from her, he had hardly thought about women in the last few moments. Gale licked his lips and opened his mouth slightly to respond. But instead he pressed his lips together once more, swallowed hard and cleared his throat before trying again.

"Yeah, sometimes I think about Marge," he replied slowly.

His heart pounded in his throat and he closed his eyes again. His cheeks burned too much and he bit down hard on his lower lip to keep his next words to himself: But I'm thinking of you too, John.

"Marge," John repeated thoughtfully. "The great Marge," he added, and again his knee bumped against Gale's. The corner of Buck's mouth twitched a little and he sighed. A little louder this time and he rubbed his right palm flat across his chest. Hoping to dispel the tingling in his chest, he rubbed sometimes harder, sometimes lighter across his torso. But it didn't help. No amount of rubbing with his palm, no amount of deep breathing, no amount of sighing dispelled the urgent heat and the tingling that ran through his veins when John was near him. He'd first really noticed it when Bucky had fallen asleep next to him in bed one night last month - a little drunk and so incredibly relaxed and beautiful that Gale had stared at him half the night. It wasn't until the next morning that he'd realized what he'd done...and what it might have meant. 

At first he had pushed it to the back of his mind, but then - a few days later - when the memory didn't go away - he dredged it up again and wrote a letter to Marge. She was his closest friend and the only one who had noticed in his first letter about basic training and Fighter School that there was something different and special about John Egan. 

Maybe it was because of the way Gale had expressed himself a few months ago. Or maybe it was how often he talked or wrote about Bucky...or maybe Marge was just too damn smart and knew him too well. 

Gale had only grinned and shaken his head wildly when Marge's letter had arrived, and even now, as it was beginning to dawn on him, her words still sounded too loud and somehow too strange in his head, and at the same time he wanted nothing more than to find out what John was all about.

"What do you think about Marge?"

Gale winced slightly as Bucky's voice snapped him out of his own thoughts and back to reality. He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side to observe John's side profile. His fingertips twitched and he wished he could reach out and touch him. But he suppressed the urge and whispered instead, "That I miss her voice and the way she laughs. Do I really have to tell you what it's like to miss someone, Major?" Gale grinned slightly and this time it was he who pressed his knee lightly against John's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of Bucky's mouth twitch and the next moment he turned his head towards Gale and looked deep into his eyes.

"Did you ever imagine being more than just her friend, Gale? I mean look at her...she's beautiful." John's usually bright eyes glittered ocean blue and dark in the embracing darkness of the night, somehow promising, and Gale felt his body temperature rise.

Buck frowned and faster than he could realize it, he mumbled, "No, not really."

John laughed and the husky vibration rushed through Gale's entire body like a shiver. Then John turned his head to Buck and licked his lips with a grin. "I just don't understand you, Gale. You don't drink, you don't gamble, you don't bet. You don't even want that beautiful young woman, so what does it take to convince you?", Bucky murmured in a hoarse voice and Gale watched every movement of John's body. He leaned back in the grass now too, turning on his side and resting his head on the side of his palm. They were closer now and Gale closed his eyes momentarily as a new wave of John's scent wafted over to him.

"Currently I' dont really know what I want", he lied. "I know I should love Marge like a lover and not like just a friend, but it is what it is, Bucky."

John stared at him for a few breaths before he lifted his hand and stroked his chin. "I suspected you were deep, Cleven, but really that romantic, huh? Are you really looking for the one woman worth writing to in war?" he teased him in a low voice. 

Even though the words hit him like an unexpected punch in the gut, the corners of Gale's mouth twitched and John's fingertips brushed his lower lip. They both inhaled and exhaled loudly, staring at each other...and then it was over. Still, their eyes remained locked together, and when Buck opened his mouth slightly and whispered, Bucky's heart skipped a beat in his chest. "Who says I'm dying to write to a woman? Maybe I just want to write to you, Bucky."

There was a vulnerability in his words that squeezed all the air out of Buck's lungs. His chest suddenly tightened so much that the gentle teasing of Gale's words was completely drowned out, leaving only seriousness and profundity instead. He leaned forward a little, curving his hand fully around Buck's chin now and forcing him to look gently but firmly into his eyes. Despite the darkness, John caught a glimpse of Gale's deep red cheeks and in that moment he was sure he had never seen anything more real and beautiful. "What would you write to me like that, huh?" he whispered playfully and only with the last bit of restraint did he manage not to let his thumb brush Buck's full, pink lower lip. "After all, you'll be seeing me every day for a while."

"I just want to write down everything that happens to us. I want to be able to remember everything...to remember us," Gale confessed and as he realised the meaning of his words, John's eyes widened. With his heart pounding, Gale closed his mouth again and when he tried to avert his gaze from Bucky, he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Don't," he whispered and Gale felt his fingertips twitch on his chin. "Why do you want to look away?" he asked quietly. "It's romantic and maybe the wrong thing to say, but you can always be honest with me, Buck. I've got you and even though you may have thought it was bullshit when I said to you a few weeks ago that I'd always catch you and be your safe haven here, I'm here for you." Without really noticing the movement, John's thumb traced the outline of Gale's lower lip and they both caught their breath. Gale clasped John's wrist with one hand, and when he expected to be pushed away, Buck hesitantly pressed closer into the touch. 

"Always?", Gale asked huskily. 

"Yeah, always", Bucky answered. "No matter what you need I give it to you."

Kiss me, Gale pleaded silently, blinking several times before looking back up at Bucky and into the blue waves of his eyes. "I know you'll always catch me. Bucky."

"There'll be two more planes in the sky at the end...if there's one thing I'm sure of, it'll be you and me, Buck," John whispered. "No matter what this war costs us, we'll get through it together," John promised.

"You can't really promise that," Gale mumbled hoarsely. They both knew it was an empty promise and yet it gave them both so much warmth and security, hope and confidence that everything would be all right in the end, that at that moment it almost didn't matter. 

John leaned his forehead against Gale's and a few breaths passed in which they both just lay there in the grass and time seemed to stand still. 

Gale was the first to clear his throat and breathed in a hoarse voice: "John?"

"Hmmm," he mumbled, slowly opening his eyes as he lifted his head slightly. Gale was lying half under him, his eyes still closed and his full, pink lips - so seductive and kissable - that John could hardly resist the urge to lean down and find out what Buck tasted like. Instead of kissing him, John memorised every detail of Gale. His unruly blond hair, the long lashes, his beautiful, seductive lips and the curve of his cheekbones and jaw. 

"I just meant it," Gale whispered after a while. John frowned in confusion for a moment, not knowing exactly what Buck meant, but before he could ask, Buck whispered, "That I want to write you letters." 

Buck opened his eyes, blinking, and when their eyes met again in the darkness, the air suddenly crackled between them. They were so close that Gale didn't know if it was static energy in the air or if it was their two heartbeats making the air crackle. He exhaled audibly and this time John didn't hold back. No, his thumbnail grazed Buck's jaw and traced its outline. Gale's eyes fluttered shut again and he sighed softly as John's thumb stroked his lower lip. 

"What are you doing?" Gale breathed, his heartbeat skipping a beat or two as a wave of heat rippled through his body.

"I'm looking at you, Cleven," Bucky murmured, making Gale laugh. "You really are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Don't say that," Buck asked with a sigh. "You got all those girls..."

"What if I told you I only have them to distract me."

"Distract you from what?" muttered Gale, heart pounding. 

"From wanting you," Bucky murmured, leaning his forehead against Gale's again. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, then his chest began to heave and he sucked the air in and out greedily. His fingers clutched John's wrist so tightly that he was afraid of leaving marks. So he loosened his grip and stroked from his wrist up his forearm and upper arm until Gale could bury his hand in John's neck. "Don't say things like that if you're not serious. It'll kill me."

"Then I guess it's best I tell you again...I want you, Buck. Since day one you've just been blowing my mind and hearing you talk about Marge...god you really want to torture me."

Gale opened his eyes and for the first time in his life he was sure that something was really going right. "It wasn't my intention to torture you," Gale confessed. "But I had to say something...you kept talking about all the girls."

"I know..." John sighed, again tracing the curve of Gale's lower lip. Their eyes still held onto each other and as their breaths both mingled, Bucky mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay...," Gale breathed, leaning further into the gentle touch of Bucky's thumb on his lips, "I'm sorry. 

"Is that really what you want?" Bucky murmured softly and Gale nodded slightly before he even realised it. 

"You said you'd give me anything I wanted...and I want you."

Bucky's grinned and lowered his lips to Gale's. At first their kiss was slow and uncertain, then it became more aroused and curious until John leaned fully over Gale and pressed his hips against his. They were both breathing heavily and when a dark moan escaped Bucky, Gale intensified their kiss and licked John's lips with his tongue. He begged for entrance and as John's mouth opened, their tongues began an erotic dance that fuelled them both.

While Gale buried one hand in Bucky's soft brown curls, he placed the other on the spot between his neck and collarbone. John's pulse raced under his fingers and when their kiss ended, they were both breathless and completely aroused. The air crackled with the tension between them and when John pressed another brief kiss to Gale's lips, he smiled. "So that's it now...", Buck murmured in a husky voice. "We're doing this together now?"

"Yeah, you're not getting rid of me any time soon."

Hey FELLAS ❤️

I felt the need to write another one shot about our two Majors. I've been thinking a lot about the pre-war time when Buck and Bucky where still in fighter school and that back in the States everything started. Back in fighter school they both of them realizes that there is a invisible bound between of them and it's more than friendship or camaraderie. It's deeper and I wanted to write something about the first time they kiss and touch each other. Explore new desires and feelings, and I could just scream because I really love them! 🫢

Enjoy this one and please LMK what you're thinking! I love to read your comments! ❤️

xoxo callumsgirl

#masters of the air #mota fic #mota #gale cleven #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #john egan #callum turner #let’s talk mota #mota fanfic #austin butler major gale buck cleven #callum turner major john egan #major cleven #major john egan #pre war

[dangerpronebuddie]

Okay, I hate this

I hate this I hate this I hate this

We just had an episode that implied Eddie didn't know he could say no to the possibility of sex with Marisol. It was also implied that option didn't occur to Buck either.

And now there's a speculation that Buck and Eddie are not just letting loose and having fun... but are drugged and out of their minds.

Eddie getting his shirt ripped off because he's finally breaking out of the box he's been confining himself to? Beautiful and poetic and I love it.

Eddie getting his shirt ripped off because he's been drugged? No fucking thank you!!!!

But it's possible and that pisses me off.

(Whump is always fun. But in canon, with two characters who don't know they can say no and one who's been assaulted before, it's not good!!! This show is fantastic about handling serious issues and heavy conversations. Consent? Not so much).

Unfortunately, since there's possibilities surrounding consent right now, I have a theory or two.

If they're really copy pasting BT onto Eddie and Marisol, then they could possibly do the 5x11 thing and Eddie is going to kiss someone. Drunk. (Or drugged, depending on that spec). Consent? Don't know her.

But if they do, it could shatter the box he's been in, and himself. I hate the idea that Eddie always has to completely break to be able to heal, but he doesn't know any other way to be. Ryan hinted at the possibility of Eddie breaking again. So what makes it happen, what does he learn from it, and how does Marisol factor in?

If they do the BT parallel and he kisses someone, consensual or not, he's going to feel incredibly guilty about it. He's failed as a boyfriend (and knowing him, he'll twist it around as failing as a father too) and the box will break again.

The next few episode titles even lean into the guilt of it all. Ghost of a Second Chance, Step Nine, even Unfinished Business is ominous enough to suggest the storyline is involved there too.

With the writers for 7x08 being Juan Carlos Coto and Bradley Marques, and Coto being who wrote the breakdown, I wouldn't be surprised in the very least if something happened that episode. It doesn't need to be a breakdown again, but it can be this cathartic experience where Eddie finally lets go of the guilt he's been carrying for decades.

The title for 7x08 has been on my mind since we found out about it. Step Nine in AA is about making amends, no matter what. It's going to be a Bobby centric episode, no doubt, but Juan Carlos Coto usually writes episodes that are big for both Bobby and buddie (2x06, 3x09, 4x05, 5x13, 5x16, 6x10 to name just a few). Add in the fact Bradley Marques is writing it with him, the guy who's only done episode 100 so far, is... Interesting!

Bobby is likely making amends with Amir. Eddie has to make amends with himself. If we get a realization or a coming out that episode? I will pass out.

They're setting it up to be a brilliant queer storyline for Eddie. I would HATE for it to be tainted by drugs and a lack of consent and another cheating storyline.

And if they don't go the drug route (yay!), then an almost between Buck and Eddie would most likely be enough to make Eddie feel guilty about it and then have to face it and realize he has nothing to feel guilty about at all. Nothing happened. He just realized he wants it to happen, and for a moment it felt like Buck did too. It would push him to either hide with Marisol or drop her and be free. And since he's grown and recognized that he moved too fast asking her to move in, it's possible he breaks up with her instead of becoming more serious.

#does any of this make sense #im barely awake rn #the pink and that promo and the specs are making me insane so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ #911 #buddie #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation

[master-gatherer]

It's fascinating how in reaction to the crab day idea half my dashboard is like "Tumblr is awful do not give them one red cent let the motherfucker burn" and the other half is like "let's save the rec center 🙂"

#do crab day dont do crab day #itll be a nice boost to the site but like its been pointed out it wont completely solve tumblr's money woes #but also it is $3 for crabs #like... no one's asking you to drop big bucks on this #hell you can just say no #this is like how every year ao3 does their fundraiser and people come on to scream about how its a waste of money #and how you should be giving it to someone more worthy #as if those donation posts arent passing the same $5 around to get by #or when the importan blue checks came out #people spending $3 on crabs would probably spend that $3 on something equally dumb or not at all #sorry #just dont participate #and make plans to lift stakes when tumblr finally goes under/starts really sucking b/c theyre gonna keep doing shit like this #until they go under or turn a profit #thats capitalism #and even if we get our glorious communist revolution social media will probably not make it to the communes #locked it down since crab day originator found it and well its out that theyre a pro-life terf so 🤷 blocked #anyway congrats on reblogging a godless heathen #your idea was cute anyway #update: i had an idea and now its rebloggable again #fyi: i block hard 🙃

[chososlilprincess]

Higuruma Hiromi x reader<3 (nsfw)

hiromi likes girls (his gf) who are a little (very) mean to him. CANON I ASKED GEGE.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Higuruma stands in the doorway of your bedroom, Hes been staring at you for a good while now, even before you noticed.

Looking at how your little dress hugs your pretty body.

you wave a hand infront of his face.

“whats up with you today…freak,” you say and laugh at him, the corner of his mouth tugs a little before going back to his usual, blank face.

“i cant look at whats mine? hm?” he says smoothly and plays with a strand of your hair.

“urgh,” you roll your eyes and turn away from him. You know he loves it, when you act like a little spoiled princess.

he grabs your arm and pull you back to him softly. He looks into your eyes again, something else than adoration behind them this time.

“hirom-“

“i thought about what you said,”

huh?

you look at him in question.

He smirks a little before speaking, “you know….about my nose,”

A couple days ago he’d told you how he used to hate his nose when he was younger. You’d frowned and taken his face in your pretty manicured hands and told him it was one of your favorite things about his appearance. It had made his heart swell in his chest, and he’d hugged you so tight right after telling you to ‘shut up and stop lying’

And he’d thought about it ever since, couldnt get it out of his head. And now he knew why.

He takes your jaw in his huge hand and brings your face up to look at him,

“if you like my nose so much, why dont you sit on it princess?” he tells you, looking into your eyes and pulling you closer by your waist.

Your eyes widen, and you blush while trying to push him away.

“stop saying things like that,” you look away from his eyes and he frowns.

“look at me baby,”

You reluctantly look at him again, the way he looks at you hungrily makes you ache.

“you telling me you dont want to?” He whispers to you, and you know he would drop it as soon as you say the word.

But you stay silent, looking away from him again. And he knows youre too shy to say it. so innocent. He wants to make you cry and shake on top of him.

He sighs and goes to pull away from you, but before he can get too far you grab him by the collar, nodding your head.

“yeah?” he asks. you nod again.

he smiles widely at you, before licking his lips and speaking,

“take this off,” he says as he plays with the hem of your dress.

His eyes scan over your body while you undress, his mouth watering. And when you finally stand infront of him, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, only wearing your panties, He picks you up by your thighs suddenly, And you yelp in surprise. He takes you to the bed, laying down with you now sitting on his chest.

You stare at eachother for a while before he speaks again,

“come on….wanna drown in your little pussy,”

Hes so nasty.

“dont worry you will, im gonna shut you up for once,” you say with a look of distaste, he knows your body is betraying you, with how big the wet spot on your panties has gotten.

you sit up on your knees, sliding down your underwear slowly, teasing him.

“mmm there she is,” he groans when he sees your pussy, slick with your arousal.

“youre so annoying,”

“sit on my face baby,”

you huff and sit down again on his chest, grinding your naked pussy on him. He groans loudly.

“fuck….you want me to beg? is that it sweetheart? hm?”

He breathes heavily, a desperate look on his face, and his hips buck behind you, trying to relieve himself a little.

You nod and wait for him, and when he opens his mouth to speak, reaching out to touch your waist, you slap his hand away.

“no touching,” you say with a serious face.

he almost cries. “evil…evil little girl,” fuck why wont you just let him have you, but he knows that you know he loves this. loves his pretty girlfriend being mean to him.

you take pity on him, you tell yourself, when you sit up on your knees, moving so that your pussy is hovering over his face. But really you know you cant wait anymore, you need to ride his handsome face.

“fuck yes…please baby, sit,” He groans under you.

you place yourself right on his mouth, his nose grazing your clit. He moans loudly into you, his hand going to rub himself so he doesnt loose his mind.

He rubs his face into you, licking and sucking on your cunt. You mewl and cry over him and he looks up at you, Smirking into your pussy.

You grab his hair then, grinding yourself down on him, riding his nose.

He babbles under you, probably filthy things. But his mouth is full, so all you hear is his muffled voice speaking into your soaked pussy.

He loves when you use him like this, and the way you look on top of him, fucking his face, its too much and not enough at the same time.

“fuck…use me princess,” He manages to get out in between eating you “cum on my face…”

You whine.

“fuck….” You shake and cry over him, cumming all over his drooling mouth. He keeps licking at you, trying to get every drop of cum. He groans, pulling away from you.

He looks so fucked out, his whole face is wet and his hair is messy, a dopey smile on his face.

You almost pass out, falling off him and onto the bed. He smiles and goes to lay on top of you, cradling your face in his hands.

“i need to change my boxers,” he says.

“of course you do,”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

IDK IF I LIKE THIS UM. anyways i hope u guys like it atleast >_<

i havent gotten to his intruduction in the manga yet i know nothing about this man except for that hes a lawyer and hes sexy

#hiromi higuruma #hiromi jjk #hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #LET ME FUCK PLEASE.

[kqizen]

personal trainer gojo

short drabble ☆

nsfw ⚠️ mdni (creepy satoru is in the building)

——————————————————————————

personal!trainer gojo who smirks when he sees you in your tight workout clothes

“you sure that’s your size?” the man asks, watching as you drop your bags on the floor. you roll your eyes, all too familiar with his behavior. satoru smirks, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “i ain’t sayin’ shit if your pants rip.”

personal!trainer gojo who secretly takes pictures of your ass when you warm up

personal!trainer gojo who brushes himself against ass when you do squats

personal!trainer gojo who makes you do intense exercises so that he can see your boobs bounce

personal!trainer gojo who presses his hard cock against your body when you’re distracted

personal!trainer gojo who has his eyes on your juicy cameltoe more often than not

personal!trainer gojo who strokes his cock when your back is turned

precum beads on the head of his dick as he watches you. satoru thanks his lucky stars that you dress like such a slut around him. slowly, he slips his hand into his pants, desperately stroking his cock to the sight of your glistening body. “fuck, fuck,” he whimpers quietly, his hips bucking up into his hand. his breath catches in his throat as globs of cum gush into his pants. lord knows he feels like a damn pervert.

personal!trainer gojo who is a big fan of sexualizing your yoga poses

“just like that, good fuckin’ girl.” satoru coos, unable to hide his grin. he has you on your back, your legs pinned over your head. it’s hard to breathe, but you try to hold out for a few more seconds. satoru subtly rubs his dick against your clothed pussy, getting off to the sight of your juicy cameltoe.

personal!trainer gojo who stays quiet when your boobs slip out of your workout bra

personal!trainer gojo who spanks your ass and praises you at the end of the session

personal!trainer gojo who invites you to grab coffee with him

personal!trainer gojo who lets you ride him in the backseat of his car

your mouth drops open into an o shape as satoru drills into your pussy, the filthy sound of being pounded filling the car. his hands rest on your hips, forcing you to remain motionless as he fucks his needy cock inside you. “fuck, that’s it princess, scream f’me.” he pleads desperately, spanking your ass as you bounce on him. he captures your hard nipple in his mouth, sucking slowly as his tongue swirls around it.

with one last thrust into your dripping cunt, he throws his head back in ecstasy. his blue eyes roll into the back of his head as he empties his heavy balls into your pussy, ribbons of white painting your walls. his glassy eyes bore into yours, a charming smirk playing on his lips. “you down for more?”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk anime #jjk manga #jjk season 2 #jjk s2 #jjk scenarios #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satorugojo #satoru smut #satoru x reader #anime #manga #anime and manga #shibuya

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel miller #tw pregnancy

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Big, Strong Man

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: GYM FLUFF, swearing

WORD COUNT: 528

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

“Bucky, that’s insane I can’t fucking do that,” you chastise your boyfriend as you point at the weights he’s putting onto the leg press. “James, that’s almost 200 pounds,” you whine and grab his elbow, trying to stop him from adding more weights.

Two months ago, you told your man that you wanted to go with him to the gym. He asked you why, because he already loves you the way you were. You smiled at his statement and assured him that you were not feeling insecure, but was looking for something to do as a couple.

And you were not a newbie to the gym; however, you weren’t as frequent as your 6’2 man.

“Doll, s’fine. I believe in you,” he rubs your exposed arms, as he sneakily glances at the cleavage your sports bra exhibits. You flick his cap and snap at him, “eyes up here, Barnes.” He chuckles at your smirk and gestures you to sit at the machine.

You knew that going to the gym with Bucky was going to be fun, but what you didn’t except was that the man was going to be pushing you to your limits and making you break PR’s all the time.

You sit at the machine and follow Bucky’s instructions on how to place your feet. “Ok so shoulder-width wide and point your toes out. You feelin’ okay, babe?” He wipes some sweat off your forehead with his thumb, before combing some of your loose hairs back.

“Fine,” you reply with a smile, “how many reps?” Bucky looks at the machine then back at you, “since we’re going heavy this time, I’d say seven. But, if you can’t then stop darlin’. I don’t want you injured.”

You smile and adjust your headphones to cover your ears. Giving a thumbs up to your boyfriend, who stands in your line of view, music starts blasting into your ears and you start pushing with your quads.

At the end of the set, you don’t even know how many times you pushed, your puffing and groaning when you set the machine to the start position.

You drop your legs, and they start quaking. The music pauses and Bucky signals to remove one of the covered ears. When you do, Bucky’s slapping your shoulders and cheering, “babe, that was fifteen. You did fifteen reps!”

You’re in shock, “what!” Bucky nods, he tells you how he was counting, and didn’t want to stop when you passed seven. You slap Bucky’s arm playfully before giving him a glare, “fuckin hell, Buck. What if it dropped, I could’ve been crushed!”

Bucky shakes his head, “no you wouldn’t.” He gives you one of his cheeky smiles, that he only reserves for you.

You narrow your eyes playfully at him and dip your hip before crossing your arms, “yeah? Why?”

Bucky copies your stance and walks to you until you are toe to toe, he wraps his metal arm around your waist and pulls you close. He nudges his nose to yours, and you place your palms on his clothed, insanely sweaty and muscular, chest.

“Cuz you got a big, strong man to save you, doll,” he pecks your lips.

🎀🎀🎀

Whoops, looks like I dropped something (this fic). 🤭🤭🤭

This is dedicated to the lovely gentleman who helped with the leg press machine today at the gym, what can I say. I'm just a girl 🎀

Lemme know what you lovelies think!!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

#eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #thank you anonnnnnn #eddie munson smut

[absdoll]

♡ inspired by this song ♡

simply can’t stop thinking about college!abby bouncing around a party, drunk off god knows how many vodka seltzers. she never lets loose like this, but it’s spring break, and she’s newly single, and she can’t help but notice how good you look dancing by yourself to the loud music.

as abby elbows her way through the crowd of sweaty bodies, she finds herself standing directly behind you. your hips swaying, your hands in your hair, head hung back. she slowly scans your body, up and down. stopping her stare at the way your tight black dress hugs your curves. “hey-“ she blurts, without even thinking.

of course you don’t hear her, you’re standing right next to the speaker, and you’re too drunk anyways to pay any mind to yet another person trying to hit on you. in between the current song ending and the next one in the queue, abby takes the split second to try and get your attention again.

“can i get you a drink?” she asks near your neck. you abruptly turn around. the warm feeling of a husky voice caressing your ear makes you jump a little. your eyes try to focus on the big build standing in front of you. long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that you swear are trying to seduce you, black t-shirt hugging her bulging muscles, and a smirk to match that tone you heard just a minute ago.

you roll your eyes, playfully, “i don’t know, can you?” you yell over the rap song, you lift an eyebrow at her, a small smile hung on your lips. abby scoffs, using one hand to turn you around and guide your hips to grind against her front. you can’t help but bite your lip as her hands sit firmly at your sides, making you press your ass onto her. your height difference is perfect for you to tilt your neck to the side, easy access for abby’s hungry lips. the blonde leaves a small kiss on the open space between your ear and collarbone, sending goosebumps all over your body.

“you look good by the way, like this little dress you got on.” abby drunkenly flirts against the small of your neck. you grab her left hand and slowly guide it down to the hem of your dress, her hips buck into your ass as you slide her hand up to your clothed cunt. “ffuuuucckkkkkk” she breathes.

and suddenly she’s got you by the wrist, pulling you to the first bathroom she finds. slamming the door, not even bothering to lock it. tripping over your high heels as abby eagerly and aggressively hoists you up on the sink. she drops to her knees, kissing up your legs and grabbing your ankles to rest on her shoulders. it’s dark, the only light is the neon red “please don’t do coke in the bathroom” sign hung above the door.

as abby gets closer and closer to your heated center, she stops at your inner thigh and sucks a big purple bruise with her teeth. you moan at the pain mixed with pleasure, your panties getting wetter as she continues.

abby ignores your growing wet spot on your white lacy thong and makes her way to your breasts. ripping your dress straps down your shoulders, mouth moving to tickle your perky nipple with her tongue. your hand finds the top of her head, pulling and grabbing her hair, moaning as she relentlessly sucks your hardened pink bud.

abby pulls back, now standing between your legs. she begins to rub her strong hands up and down your trembling thighs. “all worked up, huh?“ she giggles, shaking her head before meeting your gaze again. the alcohol is catching up to her as she traces her index finger over your entrance. abby yet again grabs your wrist, placing your palm on her groin. “feel that?” she smirks. you wrap your fingers tightly around the thick bulge tucked in her cargo pants.

one hand undoing her zipper and the other pushing your thong to the side, revealing your sopping pussy. abby brings her fingers to her mouth and spits on them before sliding her thick digits into your tight hole. you clench immediately around her knuckles, abby lets out a chuckle, “if you can’t even handle two fingers, how can you take this baby?” she strokes her silicone cock a few times, slowly, still pumping her fingers inside of you, watching as drool starts to form on your soft lips.

“show me you’re ready for it.” she swipes her tongue up your neck, “show me you can take it.”

you spread your legs even wider, showing off your pretty pink hole. slick drowning abby’s big fingers as she finger fucks you until she can feel you tightening around her. “you want my dick now hmm? can’t take any more of me not being buried inside of you?” abby coos.

“shut up and fuck me already” you hiss back. abby’s eyes widen, “that’s a lot of attitude coming from someone so desperate. if i wasn’t so fucked up right now i’d put you in your place.” you let out a soft moan at her words. abby tilts her head at you, “oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

without another word, abby’s fingers are meeting the back of your throat while she’s bottoming out inside you. her creamy covered fingers toying with your tongue, causing you to almost gag, saliva pooling down on the bottom of your lip. her thrusts are deep and violent, she’s muttering drunken words with every pump of her strap that kisses your cervix. “good fucking girl uhgh yeah f-fuuck.”

“uuuh-ghhggh fee-s shgood!” abby laughs at your attempted pleads, you can barely speak with her middle and ring finger shoved in your mouth. her fingers are salty and thick, causing your eyes to water.

“doing so good baby, mmm, needed to fuck this pussy all night.” abby moans. out of nowhere, her voice is choked up and she’s throwing her head back. “c-can’t sto-p fff-uuckk, if you keep— fuuck! m-moaning like t-that i’m gonna fuck-ughing cum inside y-ou ohggh, you’d like t-that you fuckingugh s-slut? mm want my warm cum to f-fill you uhhh-up?” abby’s words are swarming you with butterflies, her needy yet dominant moans, she’s close to her orgasm. you clench around her cock, and she swears she can feel it. “mmm ye-yeah tighten ughharound m-me baby”, and with one final desperate thrust, you’re both spinning in euphoria.

abby slowly pulls her strap out of you, watching as your sweet white glaze drips onto the floor. the tall blonde licks her lips, still spinning from the 7 vodka shots from earlier her orgasm. she tries to catch her breath, “get on your knees.” she demands. and you do as you’re told because god, you’d do anything to get fucked like that again.

<3

a/n : eeeee i’m rlly proud of this ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ !! shoutout to @whore4abby who saw a lil sneak peek first hehe . i might make a tag list for my upcoming works so lmk if u want to be added ! lots of luv my filthy bbs ♡

#🧸 bee writes ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson #abby the last of us

[shuosen]

afab! simon ‘ghost’ x top! amab! reader

cw: tall! reader, unmasked reader, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, hair pulling (r), overstim, slapping

ghost is a big man. he’s tall, extremely fit, has big hands, big pecs, a big ass- everything about him is just big, so you can imagine his surprise when he meets you, a new recruit- younger than him and leaner than him, but much taller.

After he met you, his fantasies didn’t stop. maybe he’s bigger than you, but you weren’t small yourself. He thinks you could easily manhandle him, use him to your liking, make him a whore, just for you. he found himself wanting more and more, until he finally decided that the lonesome stimulation on his pussy wasnt enough, and he wasn’t going to wait anymore.

he called you in, offered a drink, just to loosen you up, to assure you that you were in no kind of trouble. he urged you to sit on the couch, not the chair, and promptly sat beside you, slinging his arm behind you.

of course, he was straightforward. whats he got to be ashamed of, and what has he got to lose?

“say, C/N.. you into men?” he asked, crossing his legs and swirling the drink in his glass. You almost choked, but not out of surprise, out of laughter. you laughed unceremoniously, pushing your hair out of your face, and leaning to look at him.

“are you asking if i’m into men, or if i’m into you?”

“what does it matter?” He asked, setting his glass down next to him.

“If you’re asking if i’m into you,” you started, letting your eyes run down to his thighs, before looking back to his face with a raise of your eyebrows. “well, i might just expect something out of this visit.”

Ghost dropped on the bed, huffing out a desperate breath while pulling you towards him by his hands in your hair, the two of you sharing a sloppy kiss, as you blindly pulled at his belt, pants, and underwear. After getting them to his mid thigh, he pushed them off the rest of the way, pulling his mask further up, the heat of the room seeming to rush down on him as soon as your hands found purchase on his bare skin.

Your eyebrows raised in intrigue as you met with his bare pussy, but you didn’t dwell on it any further, opting to grab his hips, and pull him toward you, taking note on the breathy groan that followed, leaning down so you were face to face with his sloppy folds.

chuckling softly as you spread them apart, you commented on how wet he was, before licking a tentative stripe from his hole to his small cock, savoring the taste of his slick and listening to the soft moan he let out. You admired his glistening folds for a few moments more, almost teasing him as he grew impatient, before diving into his pussy, devouring him first thing.

Ghosts legs twitched and closed around your head, and your cock twitched in your pants. suckling on his cock, you held his hips down tightly as they tried bucking upwards, a loud ‘shit!’ being punched from him as you moved down slowly, eating his hole like a delicious meal.

You’d barely gotten started and his legs had already started quivering, so you took it upon yourself and inserted a finger, licking right above his hole as you did. another one slowly entered next to the first, pumping them in and out slowly, the movements of your tongue being complete opposite.

ghost writhed on the bed, his large hands gathering in your hair, his hips twitching shaking. “comin’! come-!” He cried out, biting onto his pale lips. You retracted your mouth, leaning up and moving your fingers, before thrusting them in and out at a fast pace. each thrust of your fingers punched a whine out of him, his back arching from the bed.

“go ahead,” you whispered, pressing down on his stomach to keep him flat, “cum.” he came with a muffled cry, his legs bending and closing around your arm.

“good boy,, did so good f’me, moanin’ like a whore before i even fucked you.”

his breaths were still heavy and stuttering, but he pulled your hair, making you fall towards him with a groan, catching yourself with your hands on either side of his chest, as he locked his legs around your hips.

“fuck me now, and i’ll moan s’m more.” he almost growled, making you grin while grabbing his wrist roughly, and pulling it out of your hair.

as soon as your cock slipped into his hole, he fell into a dazed state, his red, teeth marked lips falling open as he moaned out, his arms starting to fall off your shoulders. you flinched at the tightness of his hole, your hips stuttering before you bottomed out.

“shit- ghost, s’ fuckin’ tight.” you huffed, adjusting how you were kneeling, waiting for him to come back to himself.

“muh-move, damnit.” he coughed, latching his nails onto your back. you listened well, beginning to slide your cock out of him, watching as your tip caught on his hole, before slamming inside. the moan that escaped him was sinful, and you swear if you could, you’d get the sound tattooed.

“fuckk.” you mumbled with a grin, beginning to slam into him quickly, the sloppy nature of your thrusts being made up for in speed and strength. your hips seemed to fuck into him harsher than he could’ve ever imagined, and he thinks he’ll go brain dead anytime soon at this rate.

your cock brushes against his prostate, and his moans stutter. your thrusts slow down as you angle your hips, before you’re pistoning away directly into his prostate and he cant do anything but scream, his aching pussy twitching around your cock as he cums for the second time. you slap the side of his ass, evoking a loud cry from his throat, before doing it again.

“shit! shi- shit! s’ too much, fuck!” he cries, surprised at himself for being able to make a legible sentence, as his throat feels dry, while producing too much saliva at the same time, and his tongue feel tied. your cock hits his most sensitive spot each time, deeper than he can reach on his own and he swears he might actually go insane, his mind blank and reeling at the same time.

“you can take it- fuck.. you like this, don’t you? being treated like a cock slut.”

ghost whines at your words, his body bouncing with each of your thrusts, and he pushes his hands against the bed, trying to pull himself away from you for just a second- he just needs a break- but you just slam his hips back down on your cock, and he practically sobs.

“i asked you a question.” you huff, slapping his thick thigh.

“i- i like it! oh fuck!” he groans, his knuckles turning white, a contrast to his burning body as he clenches the bed sheets beside your knees, the solid grip on his thighs and hips leaving red marks.

“there we go.” you moan breathily, moving one of your hands to twirl the tip of his cock between your fingers.

“n-no! fuhCK! WAIT!” he moans, his words breaking off into a pornographic whine that sounds too feminine to have come from him. your hips never falter, even as he comes for the third time, his sloppy cunt squirting all on your lower stomach and the sheets. you laugh, slightly shocked as he soaks your abdomen, continuing to play with his dick.

“nuh-noo! cant! u-ughk!” ghost sobs loudly, his hips twitching and bucking, his hands moving to dig into your arm, thick legs shaking against you as he struggles between pulling you closer or pushing you away, wishing you’d at least slow down your unforgiving thrusts into his cunt.

“shh, shh baby, i’ve got you.” you mumble, pulling his head onto your chest, your hips slowing to slow grinds as his noises slow to hiccups and loud whines.

“thats it.. but you’ve still gotta make me cum.” you grin, pecking his lips and returning your thrusts to their previous pace and ghost squeals, his eyes rolling back as another orgasm is ripped from him.

he got what he wanted, but at what cost.

please like and reblog to show your support! <3

#ghost cod #ghost x gn reader #ghost x amab reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #sub ghost #sub simon riley #top amab reader #top male reader #top gn reader #sub cod #bottom ghost #☆ shuowrites

[scarlethexelove]

Roles Reverse

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 1799

Warning: smut, Strap-on (R receiving), Breeding, degration, Cum filled strap, dom!Wanda, sub!reader, ummm there is probably more but I can't think

A/N: I always kept seeing angel!Wanda as a sub and demon!R as a dom and I just thought what if I write my own. So hopefully you all like it

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You're standing in front of the stove cooking dinner not noticing the woman watching you as you move around the kitchen. You hear a chuckle come from behind you causing you to stop and turn. Looking at the woman who is leaning on the wall her arms crossed as her wings looked as beautiful as ever. “What?” You ask. Lightly blushing from the look she is giving you. “What would the others think if they saw you like this?” She pushes off the wall and walks towards you. “A big bad demon domesticated into the perfect housewife.” She finishes as she wraps her arms around your waist. 

She kisses you harshly as she pushes you towards the counter before lifting you to sit on the edge breaking the kiss. She stands between your legs pressing herself into you and that is when you feel it. The noticeable bulge. Your tail whipping back and forth as a whimper falls from your lips. “Mommy?” You question her. 

Wanda’s eyes darken by the title. “Yes kitten?” She starts nipping at your jaw before moving down your neck. “T-the food will b-bur- Ahhhhh.” You're cut off as Wanda bites down on your neck. You hear her hum before she pulls back looking at you with blown pupils. “Mommy will just order pizza.” She tells you.

You whine “But Mommy.” She shushes you. Kissing you roughly as she shoves her tongue in your mouth. Sucking your tongue as you whimper your body moving without you even realizing it. Wanda pulls back looking at you. “I know you want this kitten.” She looks down and you follow her gaze now realizing that you are grinding yourself against her bulge. You can now feel the wetness leaking out of you. Feeling your tail whip like it always does when she touches you.  

You drop your head to her shoulder continuing to grind knowing you want this and there is no talking Wanda out of it. Wanda’s hand moves, turning off the burners on the stove top. Her other hand moving and unbuttoning your pants. Her hands going to the hem of your jeans pulling them down lightly signaling you to raise your hips to pull them down. You lift up and she quickly pulls your pants and underwear down to your knees before sliding them all the way off. 

“Mmmm my big bad demon is all needy for Mommy. Everyone thinks you're the one in control and Mommy is ok with letting them think that because kitten knows who owns this pussy.” She cups your cunt in sliding her fingers through your wet folds. You whine and buck into her hand. She tsk and pulls her hand away, licking her fingers clean which causes you to whine more. 

“Does my kitten need something?” Wanda asks, looking at you faux innocence in her voice. Your hands quickly darting and trying to unbutton her pants fumbling to get the button undone. She chuckles watching your desperation as you finally get her button undone. She pushes your hands away pulling down her pants and boxers just far enough down for her faux cock to spring out. 

Your eyes widen, noticing that the size is larger than you have taken before. Your eyes dart back up to Wanda’s. A sinister grin on her face. “Kitten can take it.” She says moving closer between your legs, swiping the head of her cock through your wet folds. The head of her cock bumping into your clit makes you whine. “Mmm kitten is so wet. Will easily take Mommy’s big cock in her tight little hole.” 

Wanda moves the head down to your entrance lightly pushing causing you to rock your hips forward wanting her to push inside. “Please Mommy!” You whine. “Want Mo-” Your words cut off by a loud moan Wands slamming her hips forward fully sheathing herself inside of you. She gives you a little time to get used to the stretch before starting at a slow and steady pace. 

Your legs wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. Wrapping your arms around her neck, lacing your fingers through her hair. Rocking your hips in time with her trust. Her thrust speeds up as she starts to pound into you hard. Grunting as you moan. Her hands are placed on your hips as she digs her fingers in. Ghosting her lips over yours “You like that hmmm? You like Mommy using you?” 

You nod frantically, surging forwards and kissing her. She moans in your mouth as she fucks into you. You struggle to keep up with the kiss as you whimper and moan. She pulls back smiling at you, her pace never faltering. 

Wanda runs her hands up your body tweaking your nipples as she gets to them causing you to moan and throw your head back. She tweaks them again before moving her hands up to your horns. Knowing just how sensitive your horns are and how just rubbing them can send you into your sub space she starts to gently rub them. She feels you gush a little and whimper. Smiling at you as she wraps her hands around them and speeding up her thrust using your horns as leverage to pound into you harder. 

Your moans echoing off the walls. Your brain turns to mush as you relish in the pleasure. The intense feeling of her roughly pounding into you and the hold she has on your horns. “Look at you, a brainless whore already. Mommy just has to touch these pretty little horns and you're just putty for me. Mommy’s to use and fuck however she wants.” Wanda says enjoying your blissed out face. You nod your head not being able to speak. She gently rubs your horns again before releasing them.

Wanda pushes you to lean back a little, her hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing the sides a little catching a moan in your throat. Your eyes looking at her pleadingly. Your orgasm is close, Wanda knowing just the right things to do to you. She can tell just how close you are as she pushes her cock into you. You clench hard around her making it harder for her to push in but she doesn’t falter in her pace. Her hand not on your throat moves down and starts to circle your bundle of nerves. Squeezing your neck again as you moan. 

“F-fuck” She breathes heavy as her thrust become sloppy. “God look at you such a needy little whore. What would the other demons think of you if they saw you being Mommy’s subby little whore.” A smile overtaking her face as you moan loudly. “Mmm Mommy’s new cock is special just for her kitten. Mommy can finally breed kitten full.” 

Your eyes widen with her words but you can’t contain your excitement as your hips grind into Wanda. She notices circling your clit faster. “You like that kitten? Being Mommy’s cum dump. Fuck what would they do with you if Mommy got you pregnant. A demon with a half angel baby. Fuck but you would be so hot. All mine to keep.” She moans as you tighten more. Her words cause you to moan and nod. 

“Aww, does my kitten want that? Breeding you full of my seed. Keeping you all to myself. Being the perfect housewife I’ll take care of you.” She moans her thrust sloppy as tears run down your face. Your legs shaking around her waist the closer you get to your orgasm. 

“Mommy.” You whimper. She smiles at you knowing exactly what you want. “Cum kitten. Make a mess on Mommy’s cock.” She commands you. 

That is all it takes for you to fall over the edge. Your cum coating Wanda’s cock and the top of her pants as she continues to thrust, taking her hand away from your clit. Pressing a button that shoots fake cum into your tight hole. Her hand squeezing a little more on your throat stopping a moan, your mouth hanging open. She ghosts her lips over yours and leans her forehead on yours still thrusting. She cums after you, her hips slowing down as she helps prolong both of your orgasms. 

Her hips stilling, staying fully inside you. Your head drops to her shoulder, her wings wrapping around you. Her soft wings always give you comfort when you’re in your sub space. Both of you are breathing heavily. Wanda’s arms wrapping around your waist as her wings cover you. 

“Did kitten like that?” Wanda asks, smiling as your body slumps into her. You nod your head and nuzzle into her neck. “Mommy didn’t go too far?” She asks pulling you back to gauge your reaction. “No Mommy, liked it.” You mumble. “Wanna be with Mommy forever.” You mumble. “Really?” Wanda looked at you trying to find any hint of a lie but she couldn’t find any. You nod your head with a smile and tears in your eyes. 

To Wanda’s surprise she watched as your horns turned into a beautiful white color. Slowly starting from the tips and spreading to the base. Then she saw your tail flicking doing the same. She gasps lightly in awe of how beautiful you look. You look at her with wide eyes, a strange feeling bubbling in your chest. “Wh-what happened?” You question Wanda.

“I think you ascended detka.” Wanda smiles. You pull your tail to look at seeing the color has changed. Reaching up and touching your horns before you look at Wanda. Then you frantically check to see if Wanda’s wings had changed color, scared that you being with her had caused her to become a fallen angel. You let out a sigh of relief when they stay their beautiful white. 

Wanda wrapping you tightly in her arms. “My kitten to keep forever.” She kisses your forehead before you lay your head on her shoulder. You can’t help the happy tears that stream down your face onto Wanda’s shirt. Wrapping your arms back tightly around her waist pulling her closer. As you do the strap shifts inside you causing you to whimper. 

“Sorry kitten, let's get you cleaned up.” Wanda gently pulls out of you. She keeps her wings gently wrapped around you as she carries you to your bedroom and into the bathroom. Wanda draws a bath for you and places you in it before she discards her clothes and strap to be cleaned later before she slips in behind you. She gently cleans you and washes your hair gently swiping over your horns admiring them. You whine and squirm as she does feeling yourself grow needy again. 

“Mommy” You whine. Her fingers trail your horns more and that is when you know you are in for a long night.

#wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fluff

[kumawaii]

SHE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU | VNC

cw - manipulation, toxic behaviors, possessiveness, masturbation (m), voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

— for the anon who requested it!

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!vernon is always chill. you’ve seen him lose his composure a total of five times, but even then you can’t really say he lost lost it. it’s one of the reasons he’s become your safe space. and because that’s what he means to you, you always put him first.

it’s the same for him. bestie!vernon never hesitates to let you — and everyone else — know that you’re his top priority. he loves the feeling that comes along with being your number one. not only because he knows he can never do any wrong in your eyes, but because he can see the amount of affection you have for him every time he looks at you.

this all is horribly derailed when you mention that you’re going to start dating again. you’re excited when you tell him about the guy who happens to be a friend of one of his friends. bestie!vernon feels a bile rising up his throat when you go on and on about how he’s a sweet guy who gives you butterflies. it’s hard for him to put on a smile and act like he’s happy for you.

on the night of your date, you get a message from bestie!vernon asking if you can drop off the book he let you borrow. in spite of him never asking for anything back in the course of your entire friendship (he always let you use his things until you were done without any pressure), you don’t think it’s strange. so an hour before you’re meant to meet your date, you stop by his apartment.

you let yourself in with your spare key after he doesn’t answer your call. the apartment is quiet as you head for bestie!vernon’s room. his door is cracked open and you can vaguely make out his body laying on his bed.

just as you’re about to call out to him, you hear the prettiest moan ever. like a deer caught in headlights you stop just outside the door. now you have a clear view of bestie!vernon jerking off on his bed. your pussy gets wet instantly at the sight of his big, pretty cock. his eyes are screwed shut as he slowly fucks his hand.

it’s disgusting how long you stand there and watch. everything about what you’re doing is wrong, but you can’t look away. bestie!vernon is just so hot, and he sounds so cute as he pleasures himself. you can feel your panties start to stick to your cunt the longer you watch him. eventually, you decide that you have to leave because what you’re doing is sick.

you stop mid-step when you hear your name. it doesn’t sound like an i caught you call, but a fucking moan. bestie!vernon keeps whimpering and moaning your name, bucking his naked hips into his hand. you can’t believe it, and the turn of events has you so out of your mind that you act without thinking.

“vernon.”

your best friend lets out a surprised yelp when he hears your voice. his eyes get wide as he sits up and scrambles to cover himself. you’re incredibly turned on as bestie!vernon turns red, unable to meet your eyes. it’s silent for a moment. the air is thick and heavy with tension that feels like it might snap at any moment.

“i thought you were stopping by later.” bestie!vernon sounds so embarrassed, but you think it’s the cutest thing ever.

“your text said six.” you say, not taking your eyes off his poorly covered cock which is still oozing with precum.

“i-i swore i typed seven—” vernon stutters, finally looking at you.

something inside you snaps when you meet his embarrassed yet needy gaze. bestie!vernon lets out a deep groan when you pounce on him, lips messily colliding with his. you snatch his hands away from his crotch as you two fall back on his bed and bring them up to cup your tits. he moans into your mouth, gently squeezing as his tongue plays with yours.

when bestie!vernon is easing his cock into your dripping cunt, you’re already delirious. he starts fucking you with a rough precision you didn’t expect from him. he slaps your ass as it bounces back on his cock, already obsessed with the hot sight. his leaking tip is curving deliciously against your walls, leaving you a moaning mess.

“fuck. you have the prettiest ass ever.” vernon grunts as he kneads the two globes. he grips them tightly and starts to drag you back and forth on his cock until you’re screaming out his name.

you’re dripping all over his sheets, but you can’t feel embarrassed because he’s fucking you so good. no one’s ever gone as deep as him, and all you can do is moan like a pornstar. vernon doesn’t mind at all, though. in fact, he loves it.

“should’ve fucked you sooner, babe.” bestie!vernon says as he keeps slamming his cock into your tight little hole. “can’t believe i almost let him have you.”

you’re so close to cumming that you’ve completely forgotten about your date. somewhere in your hazy mind, you know you have to let him know you’re no longer coming. luckily, bestie!vernon knows you better than you do. he has your phone in his hands and is typing in your password before you can realize what he’s doing. for a fleeting second, he contemplates on sending a video showing exactly why you were going to miss the date, but the thinks better of it.

the squeal you let out when you see he’s called your date after he tosses your phone by your head is so cute and makes bestie!vernon fuck you harder. “tell him you’re not coming.”

your best friend’s voice is so dominant and rough that you gush all over his cock. he moans out your name as your cream completely coats his dick. your pussy is so sloppy that you can hear it all throughout the room, and when your would-be date picks up the phone, you wonder if he can hear it too.

“hey, i’m about to leave—”

“i can’t come.” you say, voice trembling as feel yourself on the brink of an orgasm.

“what? is everything okay?” he sounds so concerned, but all you care about is how vernon’s thick cock is splitting you open.

“y-yeah!” you cry out when bestie!vernon turns you until your laying on your side and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “just can’t make it.”

there’s no way he doesn’t hear vernon’s moans and the wet sound of skin slapping, but you don’t care. all you want is to get filled up. so you abruptly hang up and start to meet the harsh thrusts making you see stars.

“fuck, vernon!” you toss your head back when he finds your sweet spot, abruptly cumming all over his dick. “cum inside me!”

that’s exactly what bestie!vernon does, stuffing you to the brim. he slowly fucks it back into you for a minute before collapsing next to you. he keeps his cock inside you as he pulls you against his body with a satisfied hum. you cuddle into him, sleepily telling him you want to fuck again when you wake up. he smirks when you hook a leg over his hip — a clear indication that you want him to stay inside you.

and he does. it’s what he deserves after all that he did to get to this place. bestie!vernon plans fell into place after telling you the wrong time on purpose and masturbating when he knew you were watching. the cherry on top was his performance of a lifetime; acting embarrassed when he was really turned on beyond belief. it was all worth it because now he’s the one with his cock and cum inside you.

#kumawaii.exe #vernon smut #vernon chwe smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #svt x reader #vernon chwe fic #vernon chwe x reader #svt fic #seventeen fic #vernon imagine #vernon chwe imagine #svt imagine

[buckyalpine]

Drama Queen Bucky

Imagine Bucky being absolutely offended, OFFENDED when he’s called out for being dramatic. Not even in a bad way. Just. He thinks he’s so lowkey and quiet and stealthy, not realizing he’s such a little drama queen sometimes. He has his arms crossed over his chest while Sam and Steve exchange examples they can think of, his annoyance only growing more after each one. 

“He tore the arm off his jacket before throwing himself off a plane, who does that?” 

“I have it all on camera-

“I told you I’d break it” Bucky growled but it just made you giggle, imaging your grumpy boyfriend walking around with just a single sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“Remember the time you broke Zemo out of prison and I asked you how a prison fight would randomly ensue and you said “Who knows” with crazy eyes?” 

“Okay but-

“And then you said you didn’t do anything, only to have Zemo walk in 3 second later?” 

“I had good reason-”

“I mean you did dramatically yell “Stop the car” only to walk off like a grumpy old man” 

“M’not grumpy” 

“I remember this one time, I was beating up this guy in the back of an alley way and he came in with his new army uniform and-

“You were getting your ass handed to you, Steve” Bucky said with an exasperated huff, recalling the event much differently, back when Steve was about the same weight as Bucky’s left thigh. 

“Remember when he pouted because Tony wouldn’t let him travel through time and kill baby Zola” 

“I wasn’t pouting” 

“Look, he’s pouting right now!” 

You couldn’t contain your laugh anymore, looking at your poor helpless boyfriend with his bottom lip jutting out, looking like a poor admonished child. 

“No, m’not” He mumbled, letting you coo and wrap your arms around him, his face now buried in your neck, hiding away from his mean friends who were now nearly on the floor.  

“Awww, the big scary white wolf needs cuddles- oh” Sam’s smile dropped when Bucky’s head pulled away from his hiding spot, glaring at him. Steve let out a nervous laugh watching his best friend gently lift you off his lap and plopping you off to the side before getting up and stretching. 

“You idiots have 10 seconds”

“He can’t be serious”

“9″

“C’mon Buck-

“8″

“He won’t- 

“1″ 

...

“Run” 

“OH SHIT”

“USE YOUR WINGS DAMN IT”

“DO YOU THINK I KEEP THEM UP MY ASS FOR SAFE KEEPING, I DON’T HAVE THEM ON ME, YOU’RE THE SUPER SOLIDER, CARRY ME”

*Sam nearly gets clocked in the head*

“Did he just throw his metal arm at me!?”

“Yes. Yes he did” 

“So dramatic” 

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