#the scream i almost let out seeing bobby in this show

[chaotictomtom]

spn bobby and brba/bcs mike should fuck isn't something i could predict my brain from thinking and yet here i am

#the scream i almost let out seeing bobby in this show #like damn spn truly will never stop haunting me LEAVE ME ALOOOONE i hate you #i repressed so much shit from this show but i do remember bobby and crowley making out. a win for mark s. and me. #it was CERTAINLY played as a joke in that ep of spn because obviously 🙃 men kissing 🤣 omggg ew lol no homo right lmao crowley is so crazyy #i did clap and cheered the first time seeing mark s in doom patrol tho. because he truly is. the most guy ever #but bobby actor is still too close to the bros for me somehow so i can't help but take psychic damage seeing him #psy dmg reduced by thinking about old men yaoi 👍 thank you mike for your services

[nobody7102]

Not What He's Made For

Spoilers for Season 6, Episode 11

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy and lost pregnancy

A/N: First fic in a while, it had to be for my baby Buck. This was inspired by Billie

Main Master-List

________

Standing at the window watching as everyone gathers in his room. Buck swallows hard, seeing himself laying in the hospital bed hooked up to the ventilator, his jaw clenches with anger, an anger that no matter how hard he tries, he can't wake himself up.

Its as if the universe is playing some sick joke on him. He already talked to Daniel and the alternate version of Bobby, what more does the universe want him to learn?

Banging against the glass window “I’M HERE!” He yells over and over as the crew of the 118 slowly file out of the room. Leaving just three.

Maddie, Bobby, and Y/N,

He watches as they sit and make small talk, sometimes discussing things that the doctors and nurses have told them about Buck’s current status. After about an hour a nurse stops in to have Maddie look over some paperwork as his closest next of kin, being that their parents are still hours away from arriving at the hospital. Leaving just Bobby and Y/N.

If there ever where someone who hid their troubles well, it was Y/N.

Always seeming fine and calm in tense or hard situations as her fears screamed inside of her.

When Y/N joined the LAFD most of her previous houses would say thats what made Y/N such a good firefighter, but if you asked Y/N she would always say it was her fear that runs her life. 

And when Y/N joined the 118, Bobby was the only captain who could read through her facade. 

After a call where Y/N had to crawl through a collapsed building a year after she joined the 118, Bobby found her having an anxiety attack in her hospital room after the 118 had visited her after she was found in the rubble. Other time Bobby had learned to tell when Y/N was too in her head about anything.

And when Buck and Y/N had started to turn their situationship into an actual relationship Bobby helped Y/N learn how to navigate her fears when it came to seeing a fellow first responder, and he taught Buck how to help Y/N navigate her anxieties.

And slowly over time, Buck and Y/N became each other’s persons. They had been though so much together, from being almost drowned by a tusnami, being shot at, crawling out of a sinkhole, to fighting wild fires down in Texas, and now this.

A lightning strike. Something so beautiful yet as much as Y/N would normally have admired their beauty, right now she loathed the beauty of plasma.

The one shift she took off and now Buck’s life hangs in the balance.

Placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N turns her head away from Bobby to quickly wipe away her tears. “Comon Y/N… what’s going though your head?” Bobby prys gently.

Letting out a sigh Y/N shakes her head, finally turning to face Bobby. “Did Buck tell you we had a fight-” she correcters herself “or rather that we’ve been fighting…” 

Bobby shrugs slightly “He mention you two were bickering but he didn’t say over what” he takes a seat next to Y/N.

“...The fights… the bickering, whatever you wanna call it… its part of the reason why I asked for this shift off…” 

Bobby nodded his head as he listened “I get it, come back with a clear approach to everything after giving each other some space… what have you been fighting about if you don’t mind me asking”

“...Buck….. Buck thinks I don’t wanna be with him anyone…. That I’m getting tired of him, and I kept trying to tell him… show him that it isn’t the case” Y/N glances over to Buck.

“Okay… then what’s the other reason you asked for this shift off?” Bobby raised his brow. 

Blowing out a breath, Y/N shakes her head.

“If you let it sit, it’s gonna fester into something more. We both know that” Bobby sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, waiting for Y/N to talk.

She knows he’s right, if she avoids talking its just gonna sit in the back of her mind and eventually come back to bite her in the ass later. 

“...If I tell you this… no one else can know, you have to swear to me Bobby. No one… not Athena or Maddie or Eddie or Buck, no one.” She turns to Bobby.

“Y/N, if its serius enough you know Buck-”

“Bobby.” Y/N pleads “He can’t know” 

Bobby lets out a sigh, stuck between a rock and a hard place, he eventually nods his head “It stays between us, I promise” 

Slowly nodding her head, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks back at Buck one last time before she turns back to Bobby.

“... Buck and I have been fighting because he thinks I’m pulling away from him… this has been going on for the past week and a half” Y/N glances down to the floor as she continues “and I mean maybe I was a little bit like three days ago but it’s not for the reason’s Buck thinks” 

Starting to pick at the loose threads of her hoodie, Y/N shakes her head and blows out a breath before glancing to the doorway of Buck’s hospital room, making sure no one other than Bobby is around to hear her before she speaks.

“... a little over two weeks ago… I found out I was pregnant” Y/N sees the shock on Bobby’s face and cuts him off before he has the chance to speak “I was gonna tell you, I swear… but anytime we were on shift it was slow, we didnt end up doing anything super dangerous… and I wanted to tell Buck before I told anyone else”

Bobby’s gaze softens as he sees Y/N close her eyes and lean back in the chair as she takes a breath before continues. “If…. If I was pulling away, it’s because I was trying to figure out how to tell Buck” He sees how Y/N keeps her eyes to the floor as she talks, a tear starts to roll down her cheek before she brings her hand up to wipe it away. “Becuase its Buck. We all know he’d make a great dad, and a great dad deserves to be told in a great way… because Buck is worth taking extra steps to plan for so I ordered this little onesie and all these balloons and a cake to surprise him… and I know he would have loved it” Bobby can hear the passion in her voice before Y/N goes quiet for a moment to compose herself before she clears her thought.

“But then… four days ago I went to the ER because I was having some cramps and light spotting… I asked my doctor about and she said it was normal” Y/N shakes her head “But I could tell… something wasn’t-” Y/N stops herself, taking a moment before she swallows hard. “And… that’s when I learned that I lost the pregnancy…” She shrugs as she tries to maintain was little composer she has left.

“They don’t know what happened… in the ER they told me that things like this just happen sometimes…” Y/N’s voice tightnes she brings her hand up to cover her face for a moment as she tries to take a few deep breaths.

“So… for the last few days… yeah I was pulling away because I had all this stuff planned and I had to figure out what to do with it now because-” her voice breaks “It was all for nothing” her shoulders shake as Bobby wraps his arms around Y/N, letting her cry on his shoulder as he glances between her and Buck with pity and sadness in his eyes. 

“Y/N” He starts once she’s a bit more calmed down “This isn’t something you can hide from Buck”

Y/N just continues to shake her head “I can’t Bobby, I’ve tried-” 

“Y/N” 

“No I mean it” Y/N cuts him off her voice wavers a little bit “I have tried to tell him at every opportunity but i can’t… everytime i try i choke everytime.”

Pulling away from Bobby, Y/N sniffles and wipes her eyes before she glances to Buck “...I think it’d just make it worse, make it hurt more if I told him…” Y/N mumbles “he’s not made for sadness Bobby… Buck thrives on the happiness and joy… love and happiness and passion run his life… something like this?” she just stares at Buck laying in the hospital bed and the tears start to roll down her cheeks once more “it’s not was he’s made for…”

Staring at Y/N and Bobby, Buck bangs his fist against the glass one last time before he stops banging, his hand growing sore as he rests his head against the glass, his tears matching Y/N’s as all he can do it watch…

Hoping that this isn’t his forever.

--------

Tagging: @beachbabey @t-nd-rfoot

#evan buckley #evan buck buckely #buck buckley #911 #911 fox #oliver stark #911 x reader #buck #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #buck buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x reader #oliver stark x reader #x reader

[s-4pphics]

dial. 1 (e.w.)

wc;cw: 3.2k, all ocs r black coded<3, fratadjacent!ellie, she has community dick, dina being mawtha, mentions of psychs, weed n alcohol so dubcon, bad parties, light smut MDNI, pussy eating, err exhibitionism a lil bit, mentions of porn LOL

“Hand me my mascara, pleeease.” 

“… Lemme connect to the speaker then.” 

You sighed in exasperation at your roommate’s bargaining, placing the blaring device into her devious hands before snatching your mascara from her. She was puffing from her dab as she connected it to her phone, her playlist blasting through your small, shared space. 

HOW YOU WANNA FUCK WIT’ A STAR—

Niah returned to her ironing board, slicing and altering her ugly Christmas sweater so it was as revealing as possible. You should’ve followed in her lead; you were already burning up from your vanity lights and long, furry sleeves. 

You never attended holiday themed parties because they were the most packed, but Niah threatened to set your limited-edition vinyl set on fire if you didn’t show up. You did want to protect your rare records, but you were also planning to attend anyway for more selfish reasons. 

You hoped Dina didn’t hate you too much. 

Your good friend didn’t hesitate to scold you in person a couple of weeks ago, bursting into your room with a full IHOP platter and a sharp tongue. She was much calmer when she returned to her room after screaming at you, but you understood her initial anger. You definitely made a mistake. A pretty big mistake. 

Didn’t I tell your stupid ass to leave her alone! You don’t fucking listen, that’s your problem. 

Were you wrong for letting Dina’s best friend rearrange your guts in her roommate’s bed? Yes, without a doubt! 

Were you going to fuck her again despite her warnings? Absolutely! She fucks too good and finals are around the corner. You need a destressor!

Dina was able to let it go after reprimanding you, but you knew that she felt a bit uncomfortable whenever you two were in a room together. It wasn’t due to your private relationship, but because Ellie was a degenerate slut that greeted you by pinching your ass instead of waving like a normal person! 

You and Ellie’s newfound… friendship? Situation? You weren’t sure what the fuck this was. What do you call fucking someone you barely know four times a week and then seeing them in their Starbucks uniform every morning on your way to class? The main topic of conversation is always either can I get two cream cheeses instead of one? or hold this blunt so I can make you squirt. 

You know she likes turtles! She has a small tattoo of one right under her ear! You couldn’t stop poking it when she drove you back to your building after digging you out in her car last week. 

You knew Ellie had a reputation on campus for being a shroom-slinging whore, but she’s… more than that! She’s so funny! And cool. And pretty. And a sweet-talker and—

… You may have developed a little crush on her since you started fucking. You haven’t felt these high school butterflies since you were in high school. 

Plus, she rolls up for you sometimes! That counts for something, right?

You applied your mascara, wiggling in your desk chair excitedly while you downed the rest of your shot. You choked down the burning liquid, and your phone went off. 

You sucked your teeth, turning in your seat to face an occupied Niah as she bobby-pinned her Santa hat onto her head. 

“Did you tell Dina t’come early? It’s not even eleven.” 

She looked over her shoulder at you, “Nah, is she coming?” 

“She’s almost here,” you showed your best friend the messages, and she shook her head, hastily retreating to the mirror to straighten her appearance. And show more cleavage!

“This bitch, I tell you.” 

You poured and downed two more shots for good luck, smudged your liner, and shoved your phone into your jean shorts pocket. You sprinted over to your roomie and slapped her ass with a bright grin, making her snort. 

“You’re a hoe. Hand me my phone.” 

You grabbed the plush on her hips and thrusted into her ass, “I’m getting fuuucked, I’m getti—“

She laughed hard, “Get off me!” 

You squealed and jumped in elation before Dina rang your line and summoned the both of you downstairs. 

The music was the main reason you hated Christmas-themed parties. How are you supposed to bump and grind to The Little Boy that Santa Clause Forgot?! 

You, Niah, and Dina had been party-hopping for the last hour, and you were bored out of your fucking minds! You were more interested in watching the burning ash falling from Niah’s blunt than this packed house. 

The soccer house disappointed you. And you’re still horny! 

Dina grabbed you and Niah’s hands and ushered you onto the just as packed front porch, littered with drunk people singing and dancing in the middle of the blocked-off street. This seemed more fun than the party! 

You could see Jesse and his friends out of the corner of your eye, so you grabbed your friends’ arms and dragged them down the slippery steps; You were so desperate for entertainment that you surged through the freezing cold like nothing. 

“Jesse!” You waved your arms excitedly as you jogged up to him. 

Dina’s boyfriend whipped his head around and smiled once he saw you and the girls rushing up. You saw Ellie out of the corner of your eye, draped in her Nutcracker sweater that read CRACK DEEZ NUTZ in large white letters and an antler headband. She looked you up and down… a few times as she gawked at your bare legs. You were so happy you decided to risk hypothermia and wear fishnets!

Pretend you don’t see her! Don’t look desperate!

You threw your arms around an extremely high Jesse before greeting the rest of the soccer team with polite hugs. All except Ellie. You caught a glimpse of the small bong in her hand before she brought it up to her mouth to rip from it. 

Jesse’s slow drawl snapped you out of your leering, “Fuck, y’all aren’t cold?!” 

All three of you answered unanimously, “YES!”

The group erupted into light laughs before Niah cut in, “Bro not gon’ lie… the music’s trash in there— “

“THANK YOU!” “EXACTLY!” “I TOLD THAT FUCKER TO CHANG— “

The entire soccer team concurred loudly, but you were hardly paying attention. Your hazy mind was hyper-focused on Ellie’s dirty sneakers, watching her weight shift from one foot to the other as she listened and laughed along to the complaints. 

“Hi, Ellie.” 

An… overtly flirty tone that you didn’t recognize caught you off guard, and you immediately stiffened. You peeped and eyed the girl that walked up with her friends, pulling her into an incredibly awkward hug. You took note of how offput Ellie was by public affection. 

She received it anyway, “Hey yourself. How you been?” 

Your ears grew, “Fine, chilling. You selling?” 

She tsked, “Not tonight, sorry. You can come by tomorrow or something if you have time.” 

“Alright cool, I’ll text you. Have a good night,” you saw Ellie’s head jerk in acknowledgment before the group departed. Your eyes dropped to the floor in front of you. 

… Ellie never gave her an address. Has she been to their apartment before? 

“You okay?” 

You jumped at Niah’s concerned tone from behind you. You sighed and nodded at her, “We can leave anytime.” 

Before you could reply, Jesse spun and interrupted, grabbing your shoulders, “Leave? What the fuck, it’s Christmas! Come back with us.” 

“Where, uh, where are we goin’?” 

He rolled his eyes like it was obvious, “Back to our place. I already know Michael isn’t gonna change the fucking playlist ‘cuz he’s a fucking loser! Let’s go, c’mon.” 

You mistakenly looked at Ellie, who was already looking at you. Her eyes were shining with mischief, the corner of her mouth lifting in a sly grin. She looked like she was waiting for your answer. An excited zap went through your chest. You spoke without hesitation. 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” 

You secretly watched Ellie take another hit. 

That Uber XL was crammed as fuck, but at least the music banged! Finally! Future just saved your fucking night! 

And Jesse made edibles from scratch! Christmas came early!

Nothing about this night was going how you planned; You were supposed to be getting your shit wrecked by your newfound… whatever, but instead you were getting handed adult gifts from the soccer players! You were not expecting to receive a holiday-themed goodie bag filled to the brim with pungent, iced sugar cookies. 

Niah accepted both yours and hers eagerly before making her way towards the living room couch to dig in. You, Dina, and Jesse were all sitting at the small dining table playing Uno. Ellie was playing with you all, but she excused herself to her room to take a phone call, and you hadn’t seen her since. It was her turn! 

Dina and Jesse were having an intense argument about the 7 and 0 card rules, and you moved on autopilot. You looked around to see all the soccer players and Niah laughing and slumped on the couch before you stood and trekked down the hallway. You knocked on her door. 

“Ellie? It’s your turn to take!” 

… Silence. No response. 

You knocked on her door again, “Ellie?”

You heard some shuffling come from inside, so you decided to check on her. She smoked a lot; Maybe she needed some help getting into bed! 

You slowly twisted the doorknob and peeped through the small opening in the wood, and her raspy tone immediately filled your ears like warm honey. 

“Uh huh, rub that clit like I would. Nice’n slow.” 

Ellie was completely shirtless on her bed as she twirled her antlers with her free hand, shoes kicked off as she spewed filth to… whoever the fuck was on the other line. She couldn’t see you, and you felt guilty for spying, but the fire that she ignited in your stomach planted your feet to the floor. 

“Mhm, miss you so fucking bad.” 

… Why were you still fucking snooping! Shut the fucking door! 

“Yeah? Gonna let me?” 

Why’d you almost nod? You’re losing it; You need to fuck her!

“Wanna know something really hot?” She whispered. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were sweaty. Yes, you do! Anything! 

“I think we have an audience,” she hummed with a sly grin, setting her headband on her thigh before looking up at you. You nearly hit the floor like your stomach just did. 

She chuckled and your clit throbbed. You hate how desperate she gets you, “Yeah, she’s cute. She has the wettest pussy I’ve ever fucked.” 

Your body was on fire and your breathing was shaky; You swore to send your hospital bill to her address. She was going to put you in a coma! 

“Yeah… tag team her with me,” she bit her lip after her suggestion and that was enough to get you to slam the door. For the first time in your life, your embarrassment overshadowed your arousal. You heard her giggling! You're never going outside again! 

“Why the fuck are you standing there like that.” 

You let out a shocked noise at Dina’s voice, trying to look as… not creepy as possible. 

“I, uh, Ellie… S-She fell asleep! It was, um, her turn to pull and I just— “ 

You felt your phone vibrate on your cheek. Dina crossed her arms in front of her, staring you down with an arched brow. You flinched and pulled your device out, Ellie’s message sitting on your bright screen.

You held back your shudder. 

You heard Dina sigh, “Y’all better not be loud.” 

You glanced up at Dina’s hushed tone, her brow arched at you. 

“H-Huh?” 

“Niah isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you. Go see her,” she sighed and pointed at your snoring roomie. “Just don’t be loud. His room is right next to hers and I’m tired.” 

Your arms wrapped around her as you cheesed. 

“Ireallydidn’twantthistobeweirdIloveyousomuch— “

She snickered in your ear and patted your ass in encouragement, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… just try’n keep it light, okay? Have a good time and leave it at that.” 

“I will! Promise!” 

You planted a wet kiss on her cheek before turning to yank at Ellie’s doorknob again. 

You busted into Ellie’s room and was immediately hit with the sound of your moans. 

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, nonchalantly packing the same bong from earlier as your… series of Snapchat memories played on the table. She looked up at you upon entry. 

“‘Sup.” 

You waved lamely and immediately cringed. Why does she make you so fucking nervous! 

“… Wanna hit?” She ushered the bong to you. You shook your head and… spoke. You’re such an idiot! 

“No thanks… but you can, uh… h-hit this pussy?” 

The shock on her face made you pray for lightning to strike you down, never to be seen or heard from again because what the fuck did you just say and why did it sound like your screams from her phone were increasing in volume—

Ellie giggled. She actually laughed, and it made you smile. She sounded so cute, like she doesn’t obliterate pussy on a day-to-day basis! 

She grabbed her lighter and lit her overstuffed bowl, muttering into the opening, “Come watch this with me.” 

Your gut erupted with excitement when you shuffled closer, taking a seat right next to her, your shoulders touching. She blew her smoke away from you before grabbing her phone from her nightstand! How long did these memories go on for!

“I never got to ask,” she swiped to the next video of you gagging on her fingers. “You do porn?” 

You choked on air, “… No?”

She looked at you blankly, her thumb moving mindlessly on the screen, “You should. You’re so good in front of a camera.” 

Your face burned like she called you the most beautiful person in the world. Don’t look at her titties!

“Thank you!” You squealed with a bright smile. 

“Mhm,” Ellie gawked at you before shutting her phone off and tossing it behind her, pulling at the hem of your shorts, “Lay down’n take these off.” 

Your shoes went flying across her room, almost hitting her dresser before yanking your shorts down your legs. Ellie stood and grabbed your chin, halting your frantic movements and pressing a light kiss to your lips. The feeling didn’t last a second, but you swore your heart grew a heart before it exploded into red glitter in your chest. You’re shocked the remaining specs didn’t land on her face. She hardly ever kisses you!

“Gonna let me eat this angel cunt before I knock out?” 

You were a mere dog on a leash. You know your eyes glossed over at her tone. She smirked knowingly, pushing your shoulder until you laid flat on her blanket before dropping to her knees in front of you. 

You didn’t have time to take your fishnets off, so she tore the crotch of them with her two veiny hands, —holy fuck—exposing the wet patch on your lace panties. 

She didn’t bother to remove flimsy, damp fabric, merely moving it to the side and revealing the soft, curly hairs on your pussy, your clit throbbing whenever her breath hit it. 

“You gotta pornstar pussy, swear to god.” 

You snorted and looked down, “Why do you want me to do porn so bad?!” 

She sneered playfully, “I’m a girl with needs and I’m asking my favorite link to help me out. You get a fat check and I nut, everybody wins!” 

You laughed brightly, “You’re annoying!” 

She rolled her eyes before licking deeply into you. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling of her soft tongue, your hand finding solace in the loose strands from her bun. You moved her hair from her face, sitting up on an elbow so you could watch her lick you out. She started slowly, swirling her wet muscle on your pulsing bud, spread your slick around before dipping down, shoving her tongue in your pussy, and coming back up to spit all your juices on your clit 

Your thighs were trying to jerk closed around her head, but she pried them open, digging her nails into your plush skin in warning. Your wet gasps were catching in your throat with every skilled swipe of her tongue, your lashes fluttering 

You couldn’t hold back the loud moan that escaped when her tongue pressed against your walls, and she pulled away, landing a harsh slap on your pussy, “Don’t wake my friend up.” 

Your head jerked, “M’—oh fuck— “

She murmured uh huh right on your clit, and eyes rolled, your hips bucking down to get her to drag her tongue over that one spot again you love it when she licks right there—

She sucked your clit into her mouth, her soft lips massaging your sensitive bundle. Your ankles locked behind her head, her bun completely dismantled in your tight grip. 

“Ellie— “

“Yeah, angel? Boutta cum?” she mumbled against your pussy. 

“Y-Yeah— “

She snatched a hand from your thigh and fucked her index finger into your cunt, hitting all your spots like it was in her nature. 

You tried your hardest to shut the fuck up, but you couldn’t! Whines escaped your mouth as quietly as they could as she fucked and ate your cunt at the same time. Your soft walls were squeezing around her calloused finger like it never wanted her to leave, completely drenched in your slick.

“Cutest fuckin’ pussy. Give it t’me, needa drink that cum— “

Your jaw dropped in a silent scream, your walls clenching and squeezing and leaking on her before your orgasm crashed into you. Your lashes fluttered and your eyes crossed in your head, a line a drool dripping off your tongue and onto your fuzzy sweater. Your toes won't uncurl in your damaged stockings; You definitely weren’t going home tonight! 

You watched Ellie swallow every drop of your cum, releasing hums of satisfaction after every pulse of your pussy. Her eyes were sparkling! 

She forced the last of your pleasure out of you until you went limp on her mattress and pushed her head away. She landed a light kiss on your thigh before standing to stretch. 

“Take this shit off and lay down with me.” 

She lightly pulled at your sweater sleeve and rejuvenated you, tearing it and your bra from your body. She eyed your tits before walking over to her side of the bed and shredding her jeans off, sliding under her cotton sheets.

She said nothing, her back turned to you as her body relaxed into her pillows. You felt a little shunned, but she took care of you like she always does when you come over! You tucked yourself in, hyper-focusing on the blotchy bruises on her neck and red lines that cascaded down her toned back until you drifted off with a dull sting in your chest. 

omg the actual p1 ok slayyyy

taglist? :3

night yall LOL

teaser, 2, 3, four, five

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x you #fratadjacent!ellie #ellie tlou #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪ #black!oc #black!reader

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspirational Saturday

hi everyone, I was barely active cause mental health is a bitch and I wasn't writing for days, but today i finally broke this block and started a new wip I named "please, stop twisting knife(never wanted to cause your pain)" where Eddie is going to be engaged to a wrong guy for a moment and date this guy for longer moment, not seeing how he destroys his and Buck's friendship (Buck's insecurities and Eddie the king of denial Diaz are gonna be in the fic for long time) I was tagged today by @monsterrae1 <33 meet the moodboard and 966 words of angst I wrote cause I wasn't posted for a moment

“I still don't know how I can help choose the ring for the guy I met like …,” Buck tries to remember all the situations he was with Alec at least in one room,  “3 times? And let's not forget he is not my biggest fan,” Buck says, trying to sound casual. But everyone in the shop, except Eddie, looks strange at him. “Don’t you think Chris, Pepa, Hen, Karen, Chim or Maddie, Bobby or Athena, hell even Ravi, could be a better choice? They at least know him.” 

“And he would not be angry with you for spending time with them. Them not me,” is left unspoken, but Buck has to bite his lip hard not to let it slip from him.

Buck turns away from Eddie, who looks so beautiful and joyful admiring rings. His face has this pure happiness and smile, Buck would be drinking like crazy, like the most thirsty man alive, seeing the purest water, if it wasn’t the face Eddie has because he wants to marry someone else. The guy who made them strangers. Even if Eddie keeps trying to deny it. 

They are not family. They do not have movie nights or dinners, or even fucking calls and texts between them. Buck, thank god to Chris’ stubbornness, has it only with a boy. Mostly calls or texts, of course, because dinners or movies are barely even possible in between Buck’s shifts, Chris' school and social life. Plus to it Eddie and Alec’s attempt to create a family by constantly having family activities, and Buck left behind so easily. 

He is just a memory now. And he always would remember who he was all those years. Temporarily replacement of a missing part for the third member of Diaz household, while Eddie was getting ready to find someone to be permanent. While he was getting ready to let someone take this place to never leave again. 

Really, Buck is not even surprised he was so easily replaced. Just some words from Alec about him wanting Eddie to spend less time with Buck, Buck saying yes man, no problem, and now they are here. Him being not even a friend for Eddie. But just a guy who he still works with. 

Eddie can deny it how he wants, but they are not friends anymore. They are closer to being strangers than friends. 

Isn’t it the most painful of all of this situation?

Buck thought he had Eddie on his side forever, but he lost him too fast. He couldn’t even say a word because Eddie is happy. And why shouldn't he be? 

He has an amazing partner and the best teenager in the world as a family. They are adopting the cat soon. Eddie and Alec want to buy a house together because they started to talk about a new kid in the future, and they just want more space for their family. Family where Buck would not have any place because he is not wanting here by big part. And he wouldn’t even try to make Alec angry trying to be here. 

Just the thought that he knows all about Eddie’s plans for the future from someone, not from him, makes Buck sick, like someone twisting the knife into his guts, so he tries to concentrate on the rings the seller shows them. 

At least about the engagement he found out from Eddie. 

But Buck wishes to hear it from anyone else. Seeing Eddie’s face today, when the knocks on his door was too long and too exciting, almost screaming in Buck’s face how he needed to find the perfect ring right now and Buck should help him, destroyed part of his heart he considered dead for weeks, maybe even months, to never be recovered ever again.

He felt and still feels the sharp blade opening his back, cutting out his lungs to get to his heart, sticking and leaving the knife in his almost non-beating organ.

Buck can’t stop thinking, if he would be staying alive a little longer after lighting, would it feel the same, or would a heartbreak by the man who had your heart in his hands for years be way worse? Should Buck buy the suit for his funeral and not Eddie’s wedding?

“Yeah, I could ask them, but it would make no sense to buy the ring with them as they are not my best friend and not gonna be my best man,” Eddie grins at him sheepishly and Buck just forces the smile he perfected for years, making people believe he is fine. 

He never used it with Eddie.

“Best friends, huh? What I was doing for the last nine months, Eddie? What books have I read? What movies have watched? Who is my celebrity crush of the week? A year ago you would answer easily. Now you don’t even know I’m moving to the house I bought some weeks ago.”

It rushes through his brain, making Buck hate himself for being petty and not staying truthful to his words to always have Eddie’s back, even though he knows for Eddie it means nothing now, but not for him. 

For him it was a vow he takes with him to grave. So he presses his little overgrown nails so deep into the skin of his palm that he almost feels like cutting through the skin, and says, “I’m proud to be your best man. Let’s try to choose the perfect ring.”

Buck swallows blood in his mouth from all the organs being crushed and chopped into bloody soup inside him when Eddie just smiles like he can’t see - and Buck hates that he actually can’t, that Eddie never saw him - how he breaks him and shows Buck two rings he likes the most.

tagging @wikiangela @tizniz @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @puppyboybuckley @paranoidbean @pirrusstuff @anakinfallen @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @gaydiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hippolotamus @honestlyeddie @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @housewifebuck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @caroandcats @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @ghost-cowboy @911onabc and anyone who wants

#tell me you cried please tell me you cried #why do you think there is three rings btw? #fic: please stop twisting knife(never wanted to cause your pain) #my wips #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911

[givemea-dam-break]

since so many of you wanted a part two to this fic:

"" please, could you write something were the reader is part of kipps crew and lockwood is like obsessed with her. anytime they encounter he goes out of his way to be nice to her and kipps finds it so weird because she is like is best friend or sister even. that would be so cool! also love the new things you’ve posted earlier!!! ""

a/n: i am here to deliver! i have to say, i did not expect many, if any, requests for a part two of this piece (named Anthony on my masterlist), but here you go! thank you all for your support and love on not just this piece, but my other fics i love you all <3

warnings: angst, brief mention of suicide (for a case) female reader (few pronouns used)

part one

Your day could not get any worse, not even if a ghost appeared out of nowhere and killed you. No, in fact, that would be preferable to having Kipps screaming in your face.

"I told you to stay away from him! And now you tell me that you want to join his agency? You have got to be kidding me. This is some kind of prank, right? Is Bobby in on it? Ned? Surely not Kat."

You can't bring yourself to look at the guy who you have relied on for most of your life. The guilt is tearing you apart.

"No, it's not a prank," you say. "But, I'm not happy here, Kipps. I feel so... constrained. I don't want to keep having to follow a system that is so pick-and-choose with what they do and who they send. I want action. I want freedom."

Kipps looks like he's going to tear his hair out. "Freedom? You won't be getting freedom when DEPRAC arrests Lockwood and his little friends, you right along with them, for breaking the rules! God, do you ever listen to me?"

It feels like your heart is sinking, attached to a heavy weight. "Do you listen to me? I've told you I'm not happy here. The team barely speaks to each other, and all we seem to be doing is trying to show up Lockwood, George, and Lucy, and that's not what all of this is meant to be about. What happened to saving the world, Kipps? Isn't that what you used to tell me we'd do?"

And there it is: the breaking point. You've never seen him look so hurt, so betrayed, but you feel the exact same. He was meant to be your biggest supporter, and he can't even do that. Instead, he's so caught up in his pride, his love for the Fittes agency over his love for you, that he won't acknowledge how you feel.

"Hand in your notice by the end of the day," he says, his tone hard and his teeth gritted. "I want you gone by the morning."

"Kipps -" you say, but he's already lost interest and is walking away.

Asshole, you think, but there's no malice to it.

You can only watch as he, the only family figure you ever had in your life, leaves you behind.

--

"Oh, (name), we didn't expect to see you so soon," Lucy says upon opening the front door of 35 Portland Row. "I've almost finished setting up your bed in the attic with me, but - Wait, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," you say, but it's not overly convincing. "Just thought I'd leave before I got caught up in any big cases."

"You fell out, didn't you?" She ushers you inside, softly shutting the door behind you. "(name), I'm sorry -"

"I'm fine, Lucy," you insist.

She nods, but the look on her face tells you everything. Even if she doesn't know you that well, she's a little worried. With an attempt at a comforting smile, she leads you up the stairs, pointing out the boys' bedrooms and the bathroom, along with a room that no one enters - "We've been in it before, but only because Lockwood let us. You'd best wait until he's comfortable with you going in before finding out what's in there." - and, then, finally the attic.

It's a big space, crowded with over-large furniture. A double bed in the centre of the wall on the right, a wardrobe over on the other wall near the window, and a dresser beside. A small door leads to a tiny, cramped bathroom. Your bed, a fold-up one with a mattress haphazardly thrown on it, is squished in between the door and the wardrobe and, as tightly-packed as everything is, you smile at the cosiness of it.

"I'll just finish up on your bed -"

"I can get it, Lucy," you say, dropping your bags down at the foot of the bed. "Thank you. Are Lockwood and George here? It's awfully quiet."

Lucy snorts. "No, they're out at the moment, doing something or other. Do you want me to go put some tea on?"

You manage a smile. "Yes, please."

As it turns out, Lucy makes nicer tea than Geroge, and she's also kind enough to give you a bigger mug, although there are a few chips on the top. You suppose that's the norm with most of their things.

It doesn't take long for Lockwood and George to return from whatever they were doing. They trudge into the kitchen, arguing about something, but stop short in the doorway. Lucy gets up from her seat, halting her conversation with you, to pour them some tea while you sit, clutching your mug close in both hands.

"(name)!" Lockwood says, plastering on his infamous smile. "I didn't know you were here."

George shuffles past Lockwood and reaches into a cupboard, grabbing a biscuit. "She wasn't meant to be here for another week or two. Isn't that how notices work?"

"Uh, well." You shrug awkwardly, opting to stare at the scribbles on the thinking cloth, as you've been told it's called. "Things changed."

"Kipps made her leave sooner," Lucy says, and though she's worded it a little more gently than you had while talking to her over tea, it still hurts to hear. "Fell out."

"Well, you're here now," Lockwood says cheerfully, sitting down at the head of the table, just diagonal from you. "You'll have none of that from us."

Soundlessly, you move a plate slightly to reveal in loopy handwriting: "Lockwood is a prick and I hate him" next to a poor drawing of his face with devil horns. You raise your eyebrows, but he only laughs.

"What actually happened?" George asks. He looks a little too eager.

You purse your lips. "Told Kipps I wanted to leave, gave him a load of solid reasons, and he shouted at me a bunch. It's whatever."

Lockwood is watching you carefully as if watching and waiting to catch the pieces of you when you inevitably break. You offer up the best smile you can muster, but it doesn't seem to convince him.

"I'm fine, I promise," you say. "What about you guys? Any interesting cases lately?"

"Well," Lockwood says. His usual expression has returned - the cocky grin and sparkling eyes - but there's something a little subdued about it. His eyes still haven't left you. "George and I have just come back from the Archives doing some research for a case we've got tonight -"

"You mean George did the research," George grumbles. "You sat and daydreamed the whole time."

Lockwood only rolls his eyes. "Either way, you're welcome to join us on the case tonight - we could use an extra pair of hands."

Sipping your tea, you shrug again. "Might as well, as long as you're all fine with it."

George looks a little apprehensive about it, but Lucy nods. "What do we know so far?" she asks.

"Ms Diven, the client we met with this morning," George clarifies, glancing at you, "told us that there's a presence in her house, something she can sense but can't see, obviously, and that it's causing trouble. Well, that leads us to believe it's a Type Two, but who?" A smile splits his face, clearly very in his element. "In the Archives, I found some information on previous owners of the house, but only one of them seemed worth noting." He slides a newspaper cutting onto the table.

"Heidi Kairn," Lucy reads. "But, who was she?"

"Famous singer in the forties," George says. "The industry messed her up. A lot of stuff went down, and she ended up..." He drew a finger across his throat. Everyone got the message. "She's the only notable death from that house."

"Any clue what the source could be?" Lockwood asks. You notice how his hand on the table has moved slightly closer to yours. "Surely there won't be anything left from when the death occurred."

George shrugs. "It could be anything. A floorboard, a piece of furniture. We'll have to scout it out when we're there."

"Well!" Lockwood grins widely. "I suppose we should get our equipment ready."

--

Staring up at the house in front of you, you can't help but feel guilty. Not even a whole day since leaving Fittes, since leaving Kipps, and already you're on a case. Maybe Kipps was right to feel betrayed.

A hand closes softly around yours. When you look, it's Lockwood, looking straight on at the house with a grin.

"It's still daylight, so we'll scout out the house, use our Talents to see if we can figure anything out, and do our usual setup: iron circles in the main rooms, temperature readings. In half an hour, we'll all meet up back here on the porch."

You have to admire the confidence he speaks with. Kipps, for all his pride, would shout orders and stay behind with a facade of confidence, but it was easy enough to hear the fear lingering in his words. But, Lockwood doesn't show fear. Whether he even feels it right now is beyond you.

"George, Lucy, you guys take the bottom floor. (name) and I will take the top."

Lucy looks like she's trying to suppress a smile, glancing between you, Lockwood, and your clasped hands. "Got it. See you guys soon. Come on, George."

The pair trudge into the house, immediately taking a right into what you assume is the living room.

"Are you alright?"

You look back at Lockwood. "Hmm?"

That careful look is back. "It wasn't your fault, you know, yours and Kipps' argument. If anything, it's mine."

"That doesn't matter right now," you say, but you appreciate his words nonetheless. "Come on, I'd like to get this case over with as soon as."

It appeared to be harder than you thought. Lockwood and Co, though using many Fittes techniques for their procedures, also did some things very differently. They used the Fittes grid technique for temperature readings, but where they placed their iron circles was entirely different from where you would've done so. And, while you were glad that orders weren't being shouted at you by someone who didn't have the full scope of what was going on, the silence made you uneasy. The investigation of the house took a lot less time than it would've at Fittes, and even though everything that needed to be done had been, you couldn't get that pit of dread out of your stomach.

It was a moderately sized house, not large in any sense, but grand enough to have guest bedrooms which, in your eyes, said enough. The rooms were all relatively simple, with plain-coloured walls and light and trodden carpets. There were two kids' bedrooms, both concerningly beige, and the bathroom was about the size of the kitchen back at Portland Row.

"You've got Sight, too, right?" Lockwood asks, opening the door to the master bedroom.

"Yeah. Not as good as my Touch, but strong enough."

"So you see that deathglow, too?"

You step into the room, only to stop short. Lockwood pulls a pair of sunglasses from his coat, placing them over his eyes. A deathglow hovers over the ground, blindingly bright in the growing darkness of the room.

"Sense anything?" Lockwood asks.

Shuffling back slightly, you touch your hand to the doorframe and open your senses.

Crying. Someone is sobbing hysterically as they run into the room, throwing themself onto the bed. There's a strong chemical-like smell, something that has your gut twisting. A faint figure, one you can barely see, pushes itself off the bed as horrid cries escape their lips. The sound is heart-wrenching. They reach for something on a dresser that is no longer there, clutching at their chest and putting a hand to their mouth. Shortly after, they collapse, seizing.

Gasping, you tear your hand from the doorframe, stumbling back. It hurts to breathe.

"Anthony," you manage. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

Lockwood's face appears before yours, hands gently touching your face as he repeats, over and over, "You're okay. You're safe. You're with me."

It's at times like this that you hate your Talent. Sometimes, Touch just gives you the echoes of the past you need to hear to locate a source or figure out who the Visitor really is, but, other times, it feels like you're being sucked back into the past. Everything, all the emotions, feel amplified.

"Hey, you're okay," Lockwood repeats. His forehead presses against yours as his dark eyes meet yours. His gaze is so reassuring that you can't look away. "We need to get back outside, tell the others whatever it is you've seen. Can you do that?"

Taking a deep breath, you nod.

"You don't have to continue with this case," he says. "Lucy, George, and I should be able to manage on our own."

"I'll be okay," you say, your voice quieter than you thought it'd be.

His eyes close momentarily, then his hands fall from your face and he steps back. "Come on," he says gently.

George and Lucy's findings are very limited. The temperatures in each of the rooms are relatively normal, except for the office which, judging from the layout of the house, is just beneath the room with the deathglow. Lucy had heard nothing out of the ordinary, not until the same moment you had used your Touch.

"Horrible crying," she says. "Full of pain. I couldn't make out any words. It was very faint."

"(name)?" George says. "What about you?"

You take a sip of tea from your flask to soothe your nerves. "The same, but I was dragged back to that moment, if you get what I mean. I could see her faintly - Heidi, that is. There was a really strong smell, something chemically, probably some kind of drug. I saw -" It takes you a moment to get the words out. "She overdosed in the master bedroom. As she... you know, she was holding something on her chest, a necklace, maybe."

Lockwood's hand closes around yours once more. You can't look at him, any of them. "You don't have to carry on with this case. That's a horrible thing to have to see."

"I've told you already, I'll be fine." Another sip of tea. "George, does that give you any clue what or where the source is?"

George takes a minute to think, biting down on a block of chocolate from Lucy's bag. "Well, it could well be a necklace. If I remember correctly, a lot of newspapers commented on her outfits a lot, and she wore the same necklace everywhere. A string of pearls, I think."

Lucy groans. "Yeah, because all that women cared about back then was what everyone wore." She breaks off another chunk of chocolate for herself. "Surely, she would've still been wearing the necklace when she was buried, or whatever. Why would it be in the house?"

"God knows," Lockwood says. "We're not here to figure that out. We're here to secure it and get rid of the Visitor."

You glance at the sky and then check your watch. Summer means that the days are longer, so Visitors take longer to gain strength. "Nine p.m. Getting dark."

Lockwood grins, and it helps ease you. "Let's go jewellery shopping."

--

A lantern on the dimmest light setting is placed in the master bedroom to give George some light as he scours the room for the suspected source.

It's better to keep light usage as low as possible, a fact you're more than aware of, but the darkness of the landing that seems to stretch on endlessly is making you anxious. Even with Lockwood to your right, and Lucy just behind, making sure nothing comes at George from inside the bedroom, you can't help but feel worried.

It takes all of your power to pull those emotions together and shove them deep, deep down. You can't afford for the Visitor to feed off of them.

"Ghost fog at the end of the hall," Lockwood announces. "George, you any closer to a source?"

"Not yet. I'm about to start prying up the floorboards. Luce, you have any gum? Miasma is starting to taste horrid."

There's a sound of crinkling wrappers, then silence again.

"Crying is back," Lucy says. Slowly, she draws her rapier, and the sound of the metal unsheathing gives you comfort. "Getting louder."

"There's a faint figure appearing," you say. "It's her."

The weight of the salt bomb in your hand is familiar, soothing. This is no different from every other case you've been on, it's just a different team.

Slowly, the ghost of Heidi Kairn becomes more and more visible. She wears a summer frock that reaches her knees, patterned with polka dots, and her hair reaches her shoulders, slightly curled and neatly styled. Her face is beautiful in a timeless sort of way. A string of pearls hangs around her neck, glittering in the other-light she produces.

For a moment, you believe she's harmless. She approaches curiously and cautiously, eyes doe-like. You don't want to hurt her. She's causing no trouble. She's so, so sad, and so lonely...

A shriek of rage pierces the air, and the ghost shoots towards you and Lockwood. Out of pure instinct, you throw the salt bomb, preventing her approach momentarily, and Lockwood keeps her back with a continuous movement of his rapier. His arm reaches out, slightly in front of you.

"I've found it!" George shouts.

"Well, get it out!" Lucy says, throwing another salt bomb at the ghost.

The ghost wails, floating around desperately to find a gap to dart through, but she's kept at bay by three rapiers and a few more salt bombs.

"My arm is stuck!" George says. "Lucy, help!"

Lucy hurries backwards, and Lockwood moves back to cover her space slightly. You throw another salt bomb, earning another shriek of anger.

Fighting Visitors is what you've spent most of your life doing. This is the easy part, for you. It takes almost no time for you to fall back into a routine of rapier manoeuvres and throwing salt bombs, and, soon enough, you and Lockwood are working in tandem.

"Got it!" Lucy says.

Heidi Kairn's ghost wails once more, darting straight for the master bedroom, but she never reaches it. She's cut down by two rapiers and before she can fully reform, her source is wrapped tightly in a silver net.

There's a moment of silence, and then Lockwood, Lucy, and George burst out into laughter. It's contagious and before long, you're laughing, too, leaning against the wall.

Already, they feel like family, and the realisation makes you smile even wider.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐇𝐔𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐓𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

Summary: When Y/N needs help on a hunt, she doesn't expect Bobby to send Dean Winchester to her. Now the two must work together to solve the case and Dean has to deal with Y/N's sarcastic and biting personality, that maybe he likes a little too much.

Pairing: Dean × F!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, cheating

Word count: 2283

Series

A house on fire, screams, his father, a crying child, creatures hidden in the shadows.

"Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes, and could see with relief that he had only had a damn nightmare.

Y/N seemed to be awake for hours and was standing in front of the bed.

"Hey. Are you okay?" She asked.

The man rubbed his face, holding back a huge yawn. He noticed with surprise that it was already morning from the rays of the sun that filtered through the window into the motel room, yet the time he rested had seemed so short.

"Mh, yeah, I'm fine. What time is it?" he asked hoarsely, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, confused by sleep.

"It's almost seven a.m," Y/N replied, giving him one last look as if to make sure he was really fine, then shaking her head and going back to what she was doing, getting ready to leave. She was wearing some kind of secretary's suit and Dean couldn't help but think that it fit her very well.

He found himself observing the way her clothes enhanced her body in all the right places.

"Well, that sure doesn't help," he muttered to himself, alluding to something that usually happened to all men early in the morning.

"What?"

"Nothing," he murmured, waving a hand dismissively. "Forget it."

He sat up and sighed. Y/N repeatedly told him to hurry up, that whatever they were hunting would attack again. Dean, after getting ready like her, dressed in a suit and tie, reminded her that without having breakfast he would not go anywhere.

So, after three pancakes and a slice of pie, the hunter got behind the wheel and Y/N got into the passenger seat.

"Recap: I'm Agent Hetfield, FBI. You're my lovely colleague. We're here because we find there are similarities to some of our old cold cases. Okay?"

"It's not the first time I've pretended to be an FBI agent, Dean" she replied "And I can even pick better fake names than yours. James Hetfield? Seriously? Just hope that woman isn't a Metallica fan." She laughed reaching out her hand to remove his badge from his jacket and check with her own eyes that that was the right name. Dean let her do it, not giving her the slack she wanted.

"Fix your tie," she murmured waiting for someone to open the door.

"Okay, mom," muttered Dean in a childish way but following her advice that seemed more a threat.

When an elegant woman appeared before their eyes, dressed in black and with a handkerchief in her hand, they understood that they were facing the widow Dubois, wife of the first victim.

Before Dean could pull his badge out of his pocket, taken away from Y/N's hands only at the end of the car ride, the girl anticipated him.

"Hello Mrs. Dubois, I'm Agent Cobain and this is Agent Hetfield," she indicated him with a quick serious and professional glance.

Dean nearly rolled his eyes, so he couldn't pick the Metallica singer's name but she could use that surname surely borrowed from the Nirvana singer.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about your husband."

The woman, at first seemed reluctant to let them in but then she made them sit inside her immense residence.

The house very large and obviously belonged to someone very rich.

Bernard Dubois was a financier, the woman explained.

"In the financial field, it's impossible not to have enemies," said Fleur, also of French origins like her husband, between sobs. "The police said it was a wild animal."

A wild animal? In their house??

"We have to consider all possibilities," Dean informed her cordially. Routine sentence of a hunter that everyone believed.

"Do you know if your husband knew this man?" Y/N asked, showing her the photo of the second victim who died under the same circumstances.

"Of course. He was my beloved Bernard's business partner. The manager."

Bingo!, Y/N thought immediately, exchanging a knowing look with Dean, sitting next to him.

So as Dean imagined the two victims had known each other and also for quite some time.

"They were working on the Lake Eire project," explained the woman, her nose red and her eyes tired.

Dean and Y/N raised their eyebrows in the exact same confused expression.

"They're building a dam," she added, when she noticed their questioning faces.

"Oh," they said in unison.

There was a silent pause during which Y/N ​​and Dean looked at each other, accomplices. Both were thinking the same thing: it was a matter of revenge, and since the victims were business partners and therefore knew each other, there was a sure connection to that lake.

"Your husband was found here, right?" Dean asked.

"Yes" the woman nodded and began to sob again.

Dean and Y/N felt sudden discomfort, both of them looking in opposite directions, not knowing what to say. "He was in our bedroom...how a-am I going to live without him?!"

Dean cleared his throat and asked Mrs. Dubois where the bathroom was. He followed the staircase, as suggested, but instead of reaching the last door on the left, he sneaked into the woman's bedroom, where the victim had been found. He pulled out the electro magnetic frequency detector, hopeful. But it didn't light up, nor did it make that weird, usual sound.

So he put aside the revenge-seeking ghost theory.

He sighed deeply and shook his head slightly then noticed something on the floor, it looked like a leaf or something. Dean frowned and picked it up. It was a seaweed... what was a seaweed doing in Bernard Dubois' bedroom?

So the targets all had something to do with that project. Y/N really hoped that that was the right lead because, frankly, she didn't see any other way to solve that fucking case.

As soon as she saw Dean get up from the couch, she knew his intentions. He would check upstairs while she continued to question the woman, even though she didn't seem to know much about business, at least not as much as her husband.

"Has this project been going on for a long time?" She could hardly ask her: the widow kept sobbing and sniffing.

The woman shook her head but not to convey her ignorance about it: it was a no.

"We came back from Paris specifically for this job. We've been here for a week... and now my beloved Bernard is dead!" And she started crying again.

"Excuse me, but these days have not been easy..."

"I can imagine that," Y/N nodded.

"I've seen him so seldom. Since the works began he was always on site: he monitored progress to calculate an approximate deadline." The woman said blowing her nose.

"So the dam is already under construction?"

"Agent Cobain, it will be better to go back to the police station" Dean's voice announced as he returned to the room: he had found something.

"Look at this!" Dean said handing her a plastic bag, back in the Impala.

"What the hell is that?" she asked looking at it.

"What does it look like to you?"

“Okay, let me ask you in another simpler way: what do you think a seaweed was doing in that guy's bedroom?”

He shrugged. "We need to check that dam."

It was quite obvious at that point that the answers to their questions were in that project. Whatever was affecting the victims was in that lake and had left them a souvenir before leaving.

"I bet that crap was also in the second victim's room," Dean said with conviction.

He drove until he reached Lake Eiere, where the dam seemed to be already under construction. There were a couple of workers here and there in orange hats setting up a surveillance system. A man dressed in black, in a suit and tie, observed the area with a dull gaze. Another, a little taller, clapped him on the shoulder in consoling pats.

Dean and Y/N glanced at each other and, as if reading each other's minds, decided that those two were the right ones.

"Hi," Dean said, showing them his FBI badge. "Agent Hetfield, and this is my partner, Agent Cobain."

“We're investigating the deaths of Bernard Dubois and Mark Stern,” he added professionally.

"Weren't they attacked by a…?" stammered one of them, the shortest, in confusion.

"No," Dean replied dryly. "They were killed."

The two looked frightened, as if they were aware of the danger they were all in, because they were the other two business partners.

"You are?" Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Michael Connors and Peter Johnson," answered the taller man, considerably less traumatized than his colleague. “Bernard and Mark worked with us on this project.”

Dean and Y/N exchanged a quick glance, aware that those two would be the next victims.

After the usual routine questions, they didn't come up with anything new: no enemies in particular (not to want them dead, at least), no suspicious behavior from builders, engineers or anyone working on that project.

"We have to follow them," said Y/N as they walked away, raising her head to the sky, noticing that the sun was already setting over the construction site. And from what they understood that thing that was attacking business partners especially loved the dark. "We'd better keep an eye on them, after all that thing probably lived in the lake and could attack them even now." Y/N said next to Dean once they got back into the Impala.

They walked around the block to make the two think they were gone but after a few minutes they were hiding in the small place around the lake, an ideal location for a stakeout.

"So we are going to follow them, probably spend a sleepless night and wait for a monster to attack them. And we don't even know what it is or how to kill it?" She heard Dean complain. "Right, that's so clever!"

“But it's the only thing we can do. We don't have time to go back to the motel and do more research, we risk losing another fucking partner!"

"We don't even have anything to eat!" Added Dean dramatically, Y/N rolled her eyes even though, thinking about it, it wasn't a good plan at all.

"And which of the two are we gonna follow?" He asked indicating Michael and Peter with a nod of his head. "As lucky as we are, we'll end up following the man dropped from that bastard's menu."

"I don't think it will be a problem," she murmured with a frown, following the shadows of the two men moving towards the same car. "Company car?"

"I don't know, but we'd better keep up with them."

The two partners got into the dark and shiny car, then they left and Dean did the same, following them staying a bit far away, without attracting attention. The journey was very silent, neither of them spoke, maybe because they were too tired even to fight, even though that was their favorite hobby when they were together.

"Look" Y/N said after a while, nodding towards the car in front of them.

It had just turned right, entered an alley that led to the garage of a small house. Dean watched the scene frowning, then exchanged a look with his colleague. He pulled up across the street and they both stopped to look at the two guys. They looked like they were hiding something, and they moved stealthily, as if they were afraid of being discovered. Were they going to do something illegal or something?

It was clearer when, after the two men had entered the house, one of the ground floor windows lit up and they saw the two guys right there, looking into each other's eyes. The taller man slowly approached the other and then pulled him to him to kiss him on the lips.

Dean's eyes widened.

"Well, they say never reveal your next move, right?" The girl sitting next to him laughed.

"Y/N, c'mon! Those two are married and have kids."

"Do you think I've never seen worse?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

Dean rolled his eyes. “D-do you think… we should go in there?”

"What is it, you wanna join them?" She laughed and Dean just snorted.

Night continued to fall, dark, making that scene more intimate for the two in the house and more complicated for the hunters in the car who, unlike the first ones, were certainly not having a good time.

"How do we kill it?"

"I like to improvise," Y/N said, brushing her hair back with a lazy wave of her hand: just another way of saying she didn't have the faintest idea.

"Very enlightening, thank you," Dean said sarcastically, shaking his head.

He noticed with relief the two had disappeared from in front of that window. They had probably moved upstairs to the bedroom. He glanced at his watch: midnight.

"Well, at least they'll die happy and fulfilled," he joked, with a smirk that faded as Y/N glared at him. "I'm just trying to look on the bright side."

Several hours passed and when Dean checked his watch again, it said two in the morning. He was desperately trying to keep his eyes wide open, but his lids were closing on their own from exhaustion. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed attentive, staring at the house as if she expected to see something at any moment.

"Dean?"

"I'm awake!" he exclaimed suddenly. He was not always a good liar.

He had dozed off despite his best efforts, but he opened his eyes and rubbed his face, stifling a yawn.

"What's up?"

"The thing. It's here."

Tags: @eevvvaa @spn730015 @supernatural111222 @youcancallmelily @clairenovakanddeanwinchester @dads-on-a-hunting-trip @3amstillawake @supernaturalmess @marvelandsupernatural @agirlwatchingalotoftvshows @candy-coated-misery0731 @impalaslytherin @rudy-the-winged-wolf @dean-winchester-6767 @samanddeansannoyingsis @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse @random-spn-fan

Series: @stitchintimefan

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean fic #dean winchester fic #spn fic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

[zappedbyzabka]

Prompt: Serial Killers

for @ckhalloween23

(Scream au. Lawrusso. Little fast paced. Just one of a couple variations I’m going to make and build on. Wonky timeline)

Johnny slams the fridge closed dramatically, huffing and stomping towards the ringing phone. He’s pissed all day about various things. One is the fact that no colleges have gotten back to him yet. Is he really that…dumb? He could have sworn despite the various times he’d skip classes in school and flunk, that all the debutante bullshit Sid forced him into would at least work for something. Bobby assured him

(“Oh, come on, Johnny. I don’t hang out with stupid people—“he glanced at Tommy and Dutch, then back at him “Actually, scratch that. All I’m saying is that you’re not *educationally* a dumbass, alright?”)

It helped yet didn’t at all. Of course Bobby isn’t stressed, he and Jimmy have always been the smart ones. Johnny would go as far as to say they’re Harvard material. That comfort was fine and dandy, but Dutch was never good at reading the room, he was always just even more affectionate when Johnny was struggling. Arm around his shoulders as Johnny vented about it all. He just wants to get out of his stepfather’s hands, maybe become a doctor, make good money, and be on his own. Make a family at some point. How can he do that if no school wants him? What if he ends up as a plumber? Dealing with shit for shit money. What if he has to strip for perverts? And he wishes he could stop fucking thinking about that annoying little worm, LaRusso. The fighting and tournament are all over yet he seems to run into him everywhere…he can’t even say he hates it. He almost feels excited every time he sees him, especially when Ali isn’t there—so much less tension. So much more time to chat civilly with less filter. He finds himself hoping they broke up and not because he wants her back. Every date he’d been on recently never called him back. It’s like no one wants him except the cobras—and god is he thankful for them even when they say he’s wrong

(“Hey, at least you look cool even when you’re acting like a total diva.” Dutch teased, and Johnny stiffened. They always called him that and he usually scoffs, but right then it just felt like a way to tell him he’s over reacting.

No, it WAS. “I’m not being a diva. Why do you always say that shit?”

“I think you meant drama queen—“ Tommy started, mouth snapping shut at Bobby’s firm look. “Sorry.”

“What’s so great about college? Can’t you just, I don’t know, work at a diner?” Dutch shrugged

Jimmy raised his brows and nudged Johnny’s shoulder with his, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Don’t listen to him. We understand, okay?”

Johnny smiled at him. Jimmy once said he was one of the only people who never made him feel irritated, even with all his chaos. He’d even let him snag one of his grandpa sweaters, which he was usually such a prissy princess about, and just rolled his eyes when Johnny showed up to school one day wearing one. The day they met, he and Johnny were more alike than different, and that always stuck.

Johnny pushed Dutch’s arm off him hard and Jimmy’s off gently. Dutch frowned as Johnny walked to his bike, the other cobras watching and sharing looks.

“What’d I do?” Dutch all but whined to Bobby who smacked him over the head. “Don’t leave, man, please?”

Johnny shook his head and straddled his bike, grabbing his helmet. “Thanks for the pep talk, guys. I’ll see you later.”

“Call me when you get home!” Bobby shouted as Johnny sped off.)

It must be one of them. Dutch or Bobby in a coin toss. Dutch calling with a sheepish apology, asking if he can bring a pack of beer over. Bobby calling to cheer him up a little and give him tips on making better applications. Maybe Jimmy calling to talk about some movie or book, focusing on the action because he knows Johnny likes it most—a great storyteller. Or maybe it’s Tommy with a laugh in his voice, ready to make him cackle so hard his stomach cramped.

He picks up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi,” A strange voice answers. It’s like they’re using some sort of modulator.

“Uh, who is this?”

“If I tell you, will you give me a chance?” the voice croon.

A chance at what? “Sure, whatever. Who the hell is this?”

The man chuckles, “So feisty. I always liked that about you.”

“I…what?”

“What's your dating life like? Wait, Let me guess, not going so well?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“Hey, hey. I’m just curious, you never tell me about those kinds of things when we talk.“

“I never tell you?….Who is this?”

Johnny swears he hears something in the background. Something like wheezing, scraping.

“You wanna play twenty questions?”

“You wanna stop playing games and get to the point or did you want to keep prattling?” Johnny counters, walking back to the fridge with the phone pressed to his shoulder.

“No, I want to play with you for a long time.”

Johnny’s face heats up. “Maybe I’ll let you “play” with me if you tell me more about yourself. Like your name, for example.”

Why is he enjoying this?

“Well, sure!” the voice answers cheerily. “What do you want to know? Other than my name. If I gave you it now that’d be no fun. ”

Johnny thinks about it. It's someone semi-close to him at the least with how he speak. Must be some lame prank.

“Do you…live with your parents?”

“Interesting choice. Yes. My ma was very adamant that I stay until I have everything together.”

Johnny’s ears might as well have physically perked up. “Ma”. He knows a lot of people call their moms that but…

“You know, the way you talk reminds me of a boy who’d be *dead* if this were him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This prick from New Jersey….Kind of changed my life. Mostly for the worse I’d say.”

A hum. “You don’t sound like you hate him all that much for someone who change your life for the worse. Do you?”

Johnny stops pouring the coke staring at the half-filled cup and chewing on his lip “It’s not your turn to ask me things yet.”

“Oh, come on. Humor me.”

“Well, I guess not anymore. I kind of… appreciate him. I’d have stayed with him if he never came around. My buddies too.

“Him?”

“My teacher. Bad guy. Tried to kill me.”

“Should have killed him.” he sounds angry. surprisingly so, like a switch had been flipped.

The mansion is so…eery without his mom and Sid there. Unsettling in a different way than when they’re home. He rests his elbow on the counter, pulling his sleeve over his cold fingers. Will he get drilled into it for turning on the heat? Racking up the bill. “Great idea but I don’t really want to go to jail because I’m actually trying to have a life.”

“I wasn’t talking about you killing, I was talking about me.”

Johnny goes silent. So he knows all about it—what Kreese did—and only so many do.

“You look pretty in that sweater, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny’s brain a moment to process that and when it does he stands up straight, looking out the windows he can see.

“Wha—How do know what I’m wearing?” He changed after he got home. There’s no way he could know that unless…

“Are you all alone?”

Yes. Painfully so.

“I—I’m over this. Bye.”

“Did you lock all the doors?“

Click. He practically slams the phone back in the holder, nerves haywire all over again. He dumps his drink out in the sink in favor of some of the scotch stashed in the cabinet

Pouring it hurriedly then going upstairs to get loose and pass out for a good night's rest.

——————————————————————————

Johnny startles awake, his eyes darting in the direction of the sudden cracking noise—heart jumping in his throat when he sees someone successfully breaking into his room. How did he not wake up sooner?

A big white face with a gaping mouth, gloved hands pushing open the window and stumbling in: clumsy.

Adrenaline hits him like a train.

He slinks off his bed and onto the ground just as the intruder's feet meet the floor

They’re not exactly tall, and their flowy black attire makes it hard to determine their stature

He stands up quickly and runs toward the person but a glint makes him stop in his tracks.

The person tilts their head like a dog, bringing out a kitchen knife smeared with blood.

They step towards him, and he steps back, that pattern continuing until Johny only has the corner of the wall behind him, nowhere to escape. He was taught better than this—maybe he can still run.

The intruder sweeps his legs causing him to fall on his back and lose all his breath, lungs feeling like they were punched, his head knocking on the floor making him see stars. The person gets between his legs easily and puts a hand on his chest to hold him down (though it feels more like a grope) and the blade still held in warning

Maybe he could get it away from him. Maybe he can get himself to move if he just takes a deep breath. Wills away the dizziness.

Heavy breathing comes from the mask, and he trails the blade down Johnny's body slowly. Toying with him. Staring at him with big black eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d catch yourself better, you’re usually such a cat….” he leans in “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? Bad boy.”

“Are you going to kill me? Johnny asks, voice high and tight.

“Are you scared?” his voice is strange like he’s impersonating someone, like they’re going as deep as they can. Breathy.

Johnny grits his teeth, eyes on the blood smeared on the mask.

“I…I’ll give you whatever you want of mine. Just please don’t take my parents’ stuff—“

The boy shakes his head. “Don’t be scared.”

Johnny’s hands tremble where they’re clutching his sweater. He could wrap his legs around his waist and squeeze tight, roll him over, and surprise him enough to escape.

But the knife—but the butterflies in his stomach.

He was always fascinated by knives. The way they reflected things. He used to play with the switchblade his dad left when he was young. He hid it from his mom until the day he accidentally sliced his hand and needed stitches. She was furious, he was thinking about just how dark his blood was. Not at all like the movies he’d watch that looked like ketchup. He thought it was beautiful

“I know you like blood on your hands but — “ The intruder swipes the red off his mask with a finger, leather shining with it. Johnny’s eyes follow widely, “Is it like I do?”

He almost sounds hopeful. Vulnerable. Johnny’s heart thumps loudly. he hates murder. Murder is wrong. It’d make him a bad person if he sometimes thought about going further than a strike. More than just his hands and high kicks and words. He says nothing, and the boy tuts his tongue, wiping the blood on Johnny’s lips like some sort of fucked up lipstick.

“I think you do. I know you, Johnny. Better than you think I do. Better than you know me.”

“No. No. I don’t like it.” Johnny chokes out, tongue threatening to peek out a lick his lips clean.

He can just sense he’s smiling. “Okay, pretty boy.”

He knows him. He *knows* him.

The intruder covers his eyes, shushing soothingly when Johnny goes tense

“No more dates for you. ” he whispers, and Johnny flinches when he feels the heat of their mouth hovering over his. “I’ll keep making sure of it. And since you *don’t* want blood on your hands, you should probably just give up because next time, I’ll stab them when you’re still there.”

It clicks in his head like a phone getting hung up: All the failed dates, they’re dead. All because of him. All because this man is… is what? Obsessed with him?

He kisses Johnny out of no where and it’s eager, rough like he had been waiting forever. Like he’s trying to eat Johnny like a blood-glazed cake lips first and he just lays there and takes it. Opens his mouth and tastes his tongue: iron and mint. Something interesting.

He turns his head abruptly, hand still covering his eyes firmly, and the kiss breaks with a wet noise that has Johnny’s feeling warm. He breathes through his nose, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. He’s striking first and Johnny hasn’t struck him once

“Aw. I’m disappointed you’re done so soon, but that’s okay. I’m not pushy. I wasn’t even sure you’d let me…You chew on things so much, you have no idea the things I think about you.“

A rustle, then the moonlight filling Johnny’s vision again.

The murderer gets up and saunters to his bedroom door, looking back at him with his hand on the knob

Johnny sits up his elbows, licking the roof of his mouth to savor.

“One day, I won’t have to make calls, ‘cause you are instead,” he tells Johnny like a promise before he opens the doors with a creak and steps out.

Johnny lays back again, shaking with it all. No want in him to close his window or see if the boy is burglarizing the mansion or just going out the front door like he owns the place.

He might ask someone out tomorrow.

#lawrusso #Thank you to variousqueerthings for running the event #I’ve kept it the same since I wrote it a week ago #Literally word for word #This is not very good I know #but I wanted to get it out 😭 #forgive me #tw murder #tw possessive behavior #cobras x Johnny optional #Jimmy loves all the Cobras dw #Tw blood

[aceofspades-sml]

A few notes from today's newsies show / random new things I didn't notice before because why not

At this point I am not even trying to make something organized just bear with me

Newsies 29/07 matinee - Lindsay Katherine

When Buttons steals apples at the beginning he throws one at tommy boy who was kind of sulking on the side. Tommy boy then proceeds to do a little victory dance and reappears 10 minutes later with the apple still in his hand

It was my first time seeing Forbes Pulitzer and oh my god he is so evil- like he is evil, he knows it and he's having so much fun with it I love him for that

You know that singsong voice that's just like "take this in your face" ? Yeah that's pretty much how Bobbie says "and guess what ? He got elected"

Jack having to physically restrain Race from beating up the Delanceys when they first appear, then sighting when Race goes toward them anyway. He then tries to restrain Finch and Albert from joining race with basically the same amount of success

"Who's gonna tell Pulitzer uh ?" "I guess you do mister president" cue race silently encouraging Davey from the side

Also oscar and Morris just sitting above the newsies for the whole scene before wwk

Finch and Davey bonding over their anxiety for the "we can't beat up other kids" scene- then Finch attemps a spit shake with Davey, who nervously reaches out for a glove in his bag, puts on said glove and only then proceeds to shake Finch's hand

Then Finch just hanging on his own for the beggining of WWK

All "who wants Brooklyn" reactions, featuring tommy boy curled up on the ground, Buttons and Mush (?) putting their bags on their heads and Romeo putting his cap on his face so he just looks like the creepiest guy ever

"What's the last strike you organized" in the most deadpan way I ever saw Lindsay kath you will always be famous

Basically the entirety of watch what happens because I love Lindsay

Jack having to restrain Race from throwing hands when Davey does his "if you look and see Brooklyn then they're with us" thing

When specs is on lookout and when asked if he saw anything just goes "nothing" and when the others start booing him he adds "I am sorry !" in the most "well I can't do anything about it !" voice and I just think he deserves a hug

After Buttons threw down his papes Tommy boy came back to oscar and Morris who just reassured him for a little while but didn't push him back toward the newsies- instead he ran back to them on his own to yell at Splasher who just joined the newsies

When jack goes on for the name call in Seize the day and Davey tells the others "no wait !" before being the first to join Jack

During the fight Finch and Romeo just hang out in woodside to watch what is happening, then when mush gets hit they rush to the stage to help him

And then later on when Crutchie is gets beaten up, Finch tries to run back to him and Romeo has to physically restrain him while screaming "FINCH NO IT'S TOO LATE" with his whole chest

Then Finch runs away and Romeo just yells his name again before he starts to run as well

Just everyone making a "what the hell" face during the auspicious scene

"I dunno about thaAT"

Then again "what the hell attitude" but more annoyed for the erster scene

Davey's "oh yes above. the fold" attitude just gets more and more excited every time at this point he's just folding the pape in every way possible to show it to Jack

"We. Are. Inevitable." Ryan is having so much fun with this line I love him

Katherine visibly trying to justify herself in Pulitzer's office except no one lets her talk

Oscar and Morris beating Jack up in the back of the stage during the scene change

Brooklyn's here was cool as ever but I almost died laughing at the beginning because there were only three of them. Like they still slayed but I found it super funny for some reason because Spot and Ritz were just bonding on one side of the stage while Pips was vibing on the opposite side

Then mark and alex joined in for the dance break after the name call so that was fun

Also for the borough call it was incredibly funny as well because there was only one guy in each borough

Davey's anxiety at the beginning of the rally >>>

Tommy boy being the most eager one to see jack I love him

"how many days can you go without making money" the way Jack just says that to Pips face broke my heart

Finch booing Jack with his whole chest

The way every newsies just pass in front of jack but meanwhile Race is specifically making his way to him to shove him back

"you never asked for my real name" "well I didn't think I had to" - an actual quote by francis "jack kelly is the name my mother gave me" sullivan

Jack's reaction to "My father owns the tribune" and "and proud to be a part of your revolution" will never not be funny

Race and Spot spending a solid five minutes hanging out in the back and holding hands before once and for all

Also Henry (the new swing) joined in for once and for all so that was pretty cool

Hannah's incoherent screaming on the phone- kudos to Bobbie for nailing it with a sore throat

"I am told we once shared a carriage ride" *turns to Davey* "I TOLD YOU"

The future will be bright and prosperous in Les's hands 😌

The expression of pure euphoria on Finch's face when he sees Crutchie and the way he, Albert and Race rush forward to hug him

"Snyder the spider" - cue Tommy boy having to physically restrain Race from beating up Snyder

(yes this show features a lot of everyone having to physically restrain Race)

Ryan was given the sandstorm line and chose to serve

The only reason Les was looking at Jack and Katherine kissing was literally only because he got bored of Davey talking to Crutchie

"so are you in *points at Wiesel* or are you out *points at Katherine*"

Anyway if anyone cares I am in love with Lindsay's Kath that's all

#they were all so great urgh #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #leo's newsies analysis

[desthesleepdeprivedwriter]

Small little thing I wrote based on Richas and Quackity's relationship as for now, with Richas following Quackity around <3

-x-

“Vámonos, El Vacas! Vámonos!” Quackity exclaimed, rushing through the forest, while Richas made an effort to keep up, barely having time to close his backpack before his pa disappeared from his line of sight.

His pa… could Richas even keep calling him that?

Richas sighed again, caught up with Quackity as he waited for him on a boat, not wasting time before starting the engine and zoom across the sea. Quackity was excitedly speaking over his own words in spanish, talking about a pretty biome he’d seen in his map and wanted to explore before going back with their findings and show to ‘Cajita Feliz' and ‘Lentes'.

The kid smiled, nodding along. Yeah, that was still his pa. Same old excitement and love for the world, praising even the smallest things. They drove the boat over a whale, listening to its call disappearing as they kept going.

Quackity seemed more relaxed whenever he was only with Richas, probably because the kid wasn’t constantly asking him questions. And ever since Richas just stopped trying to make him read his signs, Quackity also wasn’t trying to run from him since he couldn’t understand. It was okay. Really. Of course it was.

Except when it wasn’t. But Richas would rather not think about that.

Instead, he picked his flute from his backpack, taking a couple of tries before setting on a song, the one that always made him remind of his pa Quack.

Quackity bobbed the head along, fingers tapping the wheel. Songs were the easiest way to make Quackity speak and understand English, Richas couldn’t really understand why, but he wasn’t gonna complain about a gift given, even if it wasn’t perfect.

“I would like to… reach out my hand…” Quackity mumbled, almost as if he didn’t noticed he was singing. Richas immediately perched up with that, playing together with tapping his feet to do some percussion job. “I may see you… I may tell you to run…”

Richas did his best to keep his hands from shaking, focused on the song. He gave Quackity an encouraging nod as he slurred the other lyrics, apparently noticing he had been singing and tensing up with the way he was speaking words he couldn’t understand for now. Quackity relaxed with Richas excited taps and more nods, letting the words just come to him, flowing out his mouth as if second nature.

“Well, I would like you to hold my little hand!” Quackity sang, and Richas knew the lyrics were wrong, but no way he’d correct Quackity. “How we will run we will! How we will crawl, we will?”

Honestly, not even Richas knew of those were actually the lyrics, but he didn’t mind, flute only being accompanied by Richas' feet taps and Quackity's voice and taps on the wheel.

“Send me on my way! Omaway!” He slurred lyrics together, but it wasn’t there was someone to complain about it.

The sun was setting, and Quackity wasn’t slowing down, neither the boat or the singing. Richas had never seen him this happy, seeming more excited on the fact he could scream the lyrics for only the stars and Richas to listen. They did a hard turn, flute almost flying from Richas hands.

“I would like you to hold my little hand!” he sang loudly again as the chorus restarted. “How we will run away, we will! How we will crawl, we will!”

Richas had his eyes closed. If he kept them like this, he could almost pretend he was younger, and his backpack only had his clothes and toys, not a survival kit for two. He could pretend they were just leaving the Favela and not an isolated place in the middle of nowhere. He could pretend his pa had just picked him up and promised an adventure, he could pretend his only heartaches were pai Forever and pai Cellbit fighting, when only pai Felps was gone. He could pretend Bobby’s death was recent, and he still hadn’t healed from that (But had he really?).

He could pretend his pa Quack still loved him and wanted him safe, far away from the fights and yelling and danger.

“Mira! Mira!”

Richas opened his eyes as the boat softly crashed against the sand, Quackity already jumping out and running into the prairie. Richas took a moment to dismount the boat and follow his pa through the tall grass. Richas stopped in a halt and watched Quackity smiling with delight when a couple of fireflies had landed on his arms.

“Luciérnagas…” He whispered, not wanting to scare them off. “Los vi desde el barco.”

Oh, this explained. He had saw them from the distance.

Richas softly smiled, and quietly took of his camera from his pocket. He took a photo without his pa noticing, and then quietly chirped for him to look up, taking another picture.

“Ven aquí!” Quackity called, and Richas slowly approached as he asked, wondering what it was.

He watched as Quackity quietly nudged the fireflies onto his arms, and without a word, opened a hand. Richas gave Quackity the camera, and so his pa walked a couple steps behind, taking a picture of him and the fireflies.

“A tu papá le encantará esto.” Quackity smiled, and Richas' own smile weakened. He chuckled still, nodding quietly. Quackity noticed his mood down, frowning at him. “Que te pasa?”

'What is wrong?’

What wasn’t?

Richas just looked at Quackity, and wanted to write books upon books about him and their family. But he couldn’t, because Quackity wouldn’t read, and would push him away.

So, instead, Richas just plopped on the floor, to Quackity’s surprise, and pointed to his prosthetic. He took it off, making a pained face, and Quackity carefully approached, trying to understand what Richas was trying to tell him.

“Esto duele?” He pointed to Richas' leg, and the small dragon put all his acting into pretending it was hurting more than it actually was from using it the entire day.

Richas pointed to the prosthetic, and then pointed to his watch as if he had a clock, then to the sky, making an arch above his head. ‘From using the entire day'.

Quackity still had a frown on his face, but soon it melted into understanding, mumbling some swears to himself about not stopping to rest.

He sat by Richas' side, carefully and gently, smiling. “Te voy a esperar.” He said, making himself comfortable on the grass.

Richas widened his eyes, not expecting to hear that. Quackity was gonna wait? He had been the entire day running ahead, not waiting for Richas to catch up. Why was he going to wait now?

He soon could feel the tears starting to fog his vision, not knowing how to stop them. He laid his head on Quackity’s shoulder, not being pushed away, and a couple of them quietly ran down. He didn’t know if Quackity knew he was crying, and if he did, his pa decided to not comment on it.

“Pan con aguacate?” He asked, offering one, Richas gladly taking and chewing on it, Quackity following suit, looking around while they ate.

The sky was changing colors, the sun was about to rise. Richas sniffed while finishing his avocado toast, Quackity rested his head on top of Richas'.

“Yo te espero, hijo…” Quackity’s voice was quiet, and Richas felt as if receiving a punch. “…hijo de Cajita Feliz” He corrected himself, and Richas closed his eyes again.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

They ended the avocado toast, and they stayed quiet as the sun rose.

Pa Quack was right there. He was just…. Lost.

Yeah. He was right there. It was all okay.

Richas always loved playing pretend.

-----

@kqluckity @mincebarge @aurora-bore-aura @shortystack75 @justagoopyguy @susie-dreemurr @tu-es-gegg

#qsmp #quackity #not a commission #q!richarlyson

[grippingbeskar]

chapter twenty three - selfish

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: canon typical violence, graphic description of injuries and general gross stuff, needles?, bobby bein a bit of. a creep again ugh.

a/n: there is so much happening in this chapter. please god make it make sense.

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Wake up.” A hand slaps you across the face, and you squint as your eyes manage to open. “There you go.”

You were still here. It had to of been… hours now. That’s what it feels like. Really, it feels like you’d never left. Everything’s the same, and you feel just as small. Just as alone as you always did. Except for him, leaning over you, observing your every movement. You tried to open your mouth, but your jaw was so stiff it felt wired shut.

“I’ve got a lot more work to get done before you leave me again. You with me now?” He says, grimy hands dragging along the inside of your wrist. It’s only as you look down, feeling the urge to tear that hand from his arm, that you see the IV stuck in your vein. Blood. He was taking your blood. He turns his attention back to a small screen. “Such a beautiful signal you get here. See this? Your father would love to see these numbers.”

“Shut your… fucking…” Exhaustion burns through you, eating at every nerve and cell, screaming at you to drift off into that dark bliss. If you closed your eyes, you could see him. Maybe he’d show up on the water bed again. You don’t know why that memory, of all the ones you had, came to you, but you’d cling to it anyways.

“Shh. Save your energy. Can’t have you dying on me.” He pours something down your throat, and you cough and splutter for a few minutes before anything goes down. You hate that it helps. It’s water. You want to throw it up out of spite, but your body hauls it in before you get the chance.

He’s no longer wearing the gas mask, and the air tastes clean apart from the metallic tang of blood still settled in your mouth. Your feet were bare, and the floor underneath was ice cold. You tried to lift them up, but the metal cuffs around your ankles didn’t let you.

“Never worked for three years, yet you still try it every time. You think I would ever let you go now? Over something as silly as reinforced cuffs?” Bobby hums, pressing his hand into the needle under your skin as his touch grazes over it. You wince, yanking away as much as you can. “I’ve had a lot of time to practise. To perfect keeping someone like you in containment. Keep you hidden.”

“What are you…talking about?” You manage with the water now settling in your stomach. Keep you hidden. How could you ever be more isolated than you were here?

“You may have been my first— and a special one at that, but you were not the first.” He takes the needle out of your skin with faux sensitivity. Like he almost cares if it cuts you now. “It’s a changing world out there. Super Soldiers, Gods raining from the sky… money can buy most things, but it hasn’t been able to buy me enough strength. Until now.”

He stands, walking around and grabbing the back of your chair. He drags you to the left, where you can see down the hallway. The door to the stairs you climbed down was wide open now, and a man was standing at the end of the hall.

“You see, I was investing in the wrong things. Training, guns… you name it. Until your father showed me the error of my ways. Science is where the real strength is.” Bobby crouches behind you, his hands holding your shoulders too tightly. “Of course, it’s been harder to master since your father passed. I haven’t been able to make the change permanent as he did— but I believe Ive found a way to increase its potency. Did you study much science with your father?”

The memory of him makes you want to cry. You wish you just had more time with him— you were going to fade away here and all his memory would go with you. You never even got the chance to tell Sam about him—

“Answer me.” He shoves your head forward, pain shooting up the back of your neck. You grit out a ‘no’ and he sighs. “No matter. Your father perfected the formula for your cell chemicals to shift and heal over. Only, the replenishment of those chemicals in other bodies is a little harder to grasp. Making it specifically for your DNA, and as much as I would love to have a million versions of you to play with, I need it to work for everyone.”

He brings over a bag of your blood, and clicks his fingers. The man at the end of the hallway moves toward you, standing at the entrance of the cell.

“Now, if my theory is correct…” He hooks up the IV again, but instead of attaching a new bag to your arm, he leaves it attached to your blood bag, and then stabs the man in front of you right in the divot of his elbow with the needle. “Even though we want to heal bones and organs, the most important part is the platelets and plasma. Tell me, sunshine, where is it that you find those?”

“Blood.” You spit, feeling some of your own drip down your chin.

“Good. Very good.” You both watch as the blood starts to disappear from the bag, going straight into the man’s veins. “This isn’t so bad, is it? Almost easy, I would say. You just have to listen, and do as your told.”

You recognise him— one of the men who used to stand outside your cell on days you needed to be guarded. Never speaking to you. Kicking your food through the gap in the wall. He looks almost asleep, and you think he might be under the effect of that gas from before— eyes half lidded and his knees weak.

“So, giving someone the proteins from your enhanced blood, theoretically, of course, should aid in the enhanced healing. Mix that with the incredible red and white blood cell counts you show, and you can create a virtually unstoppable force. For however long the shot of blood stays in his system. I had some stored from our previous years, but I have a feeling it’s effects will be more… productive, with a fresh supply.” The bag is half empty when he rips the IV out. The man doesn’t flinch, but now his eyes are wide and his knuckles white with how hard he’s fisting them at his sides. It’s almost like he’s hyped up on adrenaline, pupils dilated and staring at you. He takes a step forward, and you think Bobby is going to let him beat you to death. Instead, he pulls out a gun and shoves it into the man’s direction.

“Take this.” He says, and he does it immediately. “You see, the fresher the protein, the faster the recovery time. The guys downstairs, they have your blood in their system, and boy— does it make them pack a punch. But, their system doesn’t regenerate as easily. Some of that blood is months old—years. They die easier. Today, we’re going to see if your dear old dad was onto something. Getting blood straight from the source. It’s why I need you around. Might even let you test one out yourself like old times… but enough talk; back to our test.”

Bobby stands, walking around from behind you and controls the man’s movements, positioning him however he pleases. The man is obedient, moving without resistance, his eyes stilling on yours.

“Shoot yourself in the head.” He commands, and then the man clicks the safety off the gun and pulls the trigger.

You don’t make a sound, but you feel the hot splash of his blood across your face and arms, and then the dead weight of his body as he falls forward into your lap. A tear falls down your cheek, not in sympathy, but just pure shock.

You do scream now, because the man who’s brains paint the wall behind you stands up, pushing himself off you with ease. He sways slightly, like he’s drunk, and then blinks a couple times before returning to normal. He’s not hazed anymore— and even though his blood was still dripping down your face, still hot… he turns his head to Bobby, and the bullet wound is completely healed. Gasping for air, your head spins to Bobby, who was grinning.

“What the fuck have you done?!”

“I made him perfect! Like you!” He takes the gun from the man’s hands, who was still staring at you. “It worked even faster than I thought. Fresh is better, as they say.”

He hooks you up to another IV before you’ve come back to yourself, not even feeling the prick of the needle as the clear tube near your head turns a dark red. He was taking more…

“You—“ He snaps to the swaying man, who breaks his gaze from you. “Load these syringes and take them down. I want as many of them filled in the next twenty minutes. Don’t worry if she passes out… she’s a resilient one.”

The man moves quickly, opening a briefcase filled with long silver tubes, all ending in sharp points. He empties the rest of the first bag into three of the needles, then waits for the next to be filled. Everything gets fuzzy as he takes the next bag down and attaches another, and your hands go numb. You stare at them, making sure they’re still there. Bobby grabs your jaw, pulling you to face him.

“It’s good to have you back. I have to admit I had missed your… presence. My offer still stands, you know. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can work together. Build our own—“ All you can conjure up is the energy to spit in his face. He growls, grabbing you harder. “Fine. Have it your way. Once I’ve taken care of your little toy downstairs, I’ll be back. And I won’t be so withholding this time.”

More blood leaves your body, and you watch him walk away. You were losing so much so fast, you know you were about to pass out again, and you should be worried about that, but all you can manage to hold on to is the fact that Frank was somewhere here, and you couldn’t get to him.

It has to have been hours. Maybe even days. You have no idea. You hate it. You always lost time down here.

Your heart was as icy as the ground under your toes, and about as cracked and stained as the patch you were sitting over. The man next to you continued to sort through vials and tubes, and you drifted back to that sweet darkness, Franks voice nearly calling you if you dove in to it hard enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That all you got?! Fucking puss—“ He’s cut off by another groan. His own, but he hardly recognises it by how high pitched it is. Another fist flies at his face, and he can feel the bone crack. He tenses, preparing for the next hit.

He needs to stay awake. He needs to stay awake enough to get to you. He saw everything— that whole fucking display, and even if he didn’t get any sound or words, the minute that piece of shit laid a hand on you, Frank snapped out of his haze. Doesn’t matter how much of his blood and guts covered the floor, he would drag his shattered leg behind him if he had to. He’d get to you.

Antagonising these guys in here had been easier than he thought. At first they were in some kind of trance, but when the loud bang of Bobby’s shotgun went off, the bullet just missing him— taunting him, they snapped. Now, it’s been…he’s got no idea how long, but they have to get tired soon. Get a little slower, get distracted, and then Frank will make his move. Maybe he’ll just get numb. He knows he’s cracked ribs, every time he breathes in something sharp stabs his side. He has to keep going.

Breathing in, the men surround him— and even Frank turns his head when there’s a knock at the door.

The guy who walks in is covered in blood, and he’s holding a briefcase. It’s the same one he thinks he saw when he was watching you, but his eyes are so blown up that he could be seeing things.

“Boss wants these distributed.” He says, and the three men hover around him as he unlocks it. They’re whispering something, and seemingly forget about Frank for a second.

Their mistake.

He’s slowly but surely working himself free, knowing he’s going to have to dislocate his thumbs to get out. He’s fought with worse injuries, but with how much blood he’s lost, he needs something. An edge. Something that will just get him out of this room. He knows there’s guns outside, and the slick of his blood makes it easier to slide out. He just needs one damn thing to go his way today…

“Is that really it?” One of the men hold up a needle. It’s bright red, with the biggest point Franks ever seen on the end.

“What’d you expect?”

“Hulk had green blood. Something like that, I guess.” Another man says off handedly, never looking back at him, and fuck— they were asking for it now. Franks right hand tugs at the cuff, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down on his lip so hard it bleeds. Not that he’ll be able to tell what’s bleeding anymore. Bone pops as he tugs the rest of the way, in one sharp movement he’s got a free hand.

He doesn’t wait.

Whatever’s in that syringe is important. Important enough that the guy who shot himself in the head got back up and walked down four flights of stairs. It does… well, Frank doesn’t know what the fuck if does, but if it heals a bullet to the head, Franks betting on the fact it’ll be enough to get him out of this room.

He lunges, throwing his body toward the syringe dangling in the man’s hand. The briefcase splatters on the ground and a multitude of curses ring through the room. One breaks, another falls right next to Franks head. He turns, only to see it kicked away. He pops his left hand out of the cuff in the shuffle, hoping they don’t notice it’s free.

“I thought he’d be better. Look at him.” They peer down at him on the floor, still cuffed by his feet, and from their view, still one hand, too. It’s why they don’t realise him reaching behind, grabbing two sharp points and dragging them over.

“Guess he’s past his prime. Clean this up, and don’t finish him off just yet. Boss wants round two.” The men laugh, turning their backs for a final time.

Frank stabs himself in the back with two needles. He feels it instantly— like the time he got shot up with adrenaline. Everything is turned to ten, and he groans and thrashes on the floor. The men turn around to look at him just in time to see his two free hands, but by then it’s too late.

Frank’s broken the chain on his legs, one giant whack of it against the concrete sending the links off in shattered pieces. He rolls, not feeling any pain on his sides. He stands, easily. Way too easily. He should be hunched over, fighting for consciousness.

He’s never felt fucking better.

He lands a punch on the advancing man, the one who broke his ribs. He grabs him by the head, feeling his skull bone crack under his grip.

He doesn’t have time to think about it, because the next ones already coming. He throws himself at him, tackling him to the floor. He beats him— over and over, so hard his hands meet concrete after three blows. He went through him.

One man’s on his back, arm around his throat, and he easily rips him over his head. These guys were fucking nothing now. He felt like he’d been shocked by some kind of electricity, except this was the kind that felt fucking amazing. He belted the man in front of him, then slammed his head into the wall. Blood and brain covered the only clean part of the room, and one man was left.

The man who shot himself.

“Stop! Wait!” The man says, holding the briefcase up. “I can tell you what he’s doing. Where she is!” Frank takes a few breaths, not even feeling winded.

“You work for him?” The man nods. “Where?”

“S-security.” Frank towers over him, and he goes for the handle of the door, but Franks too fast. So fucking fast he doesn’t register that he’s got the guys hand tight in a fist until he hears him scream.

“You know she was down there? All that time, huh?” The man looks up, wide eyed. Frank cracks the bones in his hands.

“Fuck! Yes— yes, we knew but I swear—“ Frank doesn’t care what the rest of the sentence is, because he picks up the briefcase, and uses the end of it to cave his head in.

He keeps hold of the case as he kicks the door down, swiping the shot gun Bobby abandoned. Then he takes a chance, testing his durability, and jumps over the railing of the two story platform.

After the beating he received, he should be struggling to even walk— but he lands it easily. He doesn’t even have that kink in his neck from this morning. Spent so much time staring down at you sleeping next to him. Not even that. No blood coming from anywhere, and he could see for fucking miles in front of him. No swollen eyes.

He was healed. Completely. Strong, too. Stronger than he fucking should be. He doesn’t know how long he’s got, but he knows he’s not wasting another second of not having you safe. He takes the stairs up four at a time, never needing to catch his breath.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank’s arm was around you, holding you tighter than you could ever remember. You weren’t shivering anymore, the effects of the ice cold water long forgotten the minute he pulled you to him under the covers.

It was nearly morning, and you were still hazed with sleep. The embarrassment and pain can’t reach you here, not when you are so close to drifting off. Another few hours of sleep would do you good. Just letting your eyes flutter closed. You blame it on this nearly-asleep-half-conscious state that you turn over, seeking more of the warmth his skin offers. He tenses next to you, feeling you shift, before accepting the new position and letting your limbs tangle with his own. 

It’s about as safe as you have ever felt. Frank on all sides, something that should make you feel boxed in. He’d let you go with one word, but you can trust him not to. You don’t want him to. Frank’s arms tighten around you as you settle your head just below his, nose brushing against his collarbone.

“You okay?” His voice rumbled through your head, all the way down to your toes. You didn’t answer, wanting to linger in this state a little longer. Your breathing was even, and you all but melted into him with one last, long sigh. “What the hell are you doin’ to me, huh?”

His lips touched your forehead before one hand tangled in your hair. He doesn't brush past this time. This time, it’s purposeful and practically permanent. He scorches your skin, kissing you softly, right on the little scar above your eyebrow.

You feel him tug you closer, your leg nearly on top of him now. You can hear his heartbeat in your ear, racing when your hand slowly brushes up his side, stopping under your head. Then it slows, and he kisses you one last time before you’re asleep again…

You can hear something. Maybe. Theres a beeping sound coming from the monitor, but that’s not what it is. This place echos everything. The walls nearly savour the sounds, sending them back to you so loud, that if you close your eyes you could swear it was happening right next to you. This is different, though. 

It’s screaming. Someone screaming.

You force your head up, slowly blinking your eyes. There’s spots in your vision, but you can see people. People, flying around the tight space of the corridor. Flying… you swear they were moving through the air, limbs whacking around in un-natural directions. Something loud cracked, and then a loud, male groan. Almost a scream, but this wasn’t in fear, or pain. Someone was coming, and they weren’t stopping until they got through.

You only knew one person who would fight for you like that, but as much as you tried to fight against it, sleep dragged you down into the dark. This time, Frank was getting further away, and you weren’t so sure you could pull yourself back up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was pitch black, but all Frank could see was red. Dark, thick red, blood that can only be from deep, hidden parts of the body. Blood gets thicker the further in you go, and Frank was tearing right to the centre.

He found more men on the stairs, using the shotgun and the pulsing strength scorching through his body to take them out. He admitted it felt good— fucking easy, tearing through these guys. They had the higher ground but he had every advantage. He couldn’t help but feel like something was off about it, though. He has no idea what he gave himself, it just had to be enough to get to you.

When he finally makes it up to the door, he’s sprinting. More faces blur past his hands and bullets, but he can only focus on one. You, your head down, eyes closed. He throws someone with one arm as far as he can manage, and he doesn’t see the guy get back up. He’s still looking for Bobby, but all that was on the back burner now. Now, all he could focus on was you.

The bodies stop dropping, and he realises there’s no more coming. No more footsteps as he reaches the door to your cell, no more gun shots. Not even a breath that wasn’t his own.

You weren’t breathing.

He drops the case he’s still managed to hold, ignoring the slow beeping of the monitor. He rips at the handcuffs, but even with all this stuff in his body he can’t manage it.

“Come on. Hey! Come on, wake up…baby, fucking wake up.” He could hear the horse crack of his voice and he was pulling so fucking hard and it wasn’t enough. He’s shaking you by the shoulders, then he looks down, seeing the snapped locks of the briefcase.

There’s still four or five syringes in there. He doesn’t know what it does— he can hardly tell if he’s gonna live when this feeling dies down. He’s still staring at them, though. Reaching for one.

He could do it. It brought him back, healed whatever those assholes did… and your a hell of a lot stronger than he is. He needs it to work. He needs you to open your fucking eyes, but is it worth the risk? Was it worth it if it backfired? Was he that selfish, that he’d take the risk— the risk of you dying because of what he did, just so he wouldn’t have to live without you? He’d take you down with him if he did this— fuck knows what Bobby put in these things. It could be anything. But he couldn’t let you die in this room. Couldn’t let you go.

Frank Castle knows he’s selfish, but it’s like his body has already made up its mind. His hand is fisting on of the vials, hovering over your thigh. The beeping’s getting slower, and you twitch in his hold, the last signs of life fading from you. For a second, he thinks he shouldn’t do it. That he shouldn’t take you down with him any further than he’s already done. But he can’t see you die. He couldn’t.

“Please. Just— need this to work. Please.” He drops his head and plunges the needle into your thigh without another thought. Almost instantly, your eyes crack open and your heaving air back into your deprived lungs. Frank holds you upright, trying to make sure you don’t fall backwards, but he can’t see past the tears forming in his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the last time he cried like this— like a knife was tearing it’s way through his chest, nearing his throat and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. He didn’t want to stop it because you were fucking here— covered in blood and dirt but breathing. He chose right. Did right by you, for fucking once. Looking around the room terrified, you say a word, and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world because the first thing you think to say is his name.

“Frank!” You scratch out, shoulders still heaving with the effort of taking in air. “Frank— we have… you have to get me… please I can’t be in here anymore—“

“Shh. Shh— you’re okay. I’m gonna get you out, just like I promised, yeah?” You stop spinning your head around and stop your thrashing when your eyes meet his. He feels your hand go to lift up and touch him but you can’t move. “Fucking hell. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You’re crying.” You say softly, and Frank shakes his head, laughing out of pure exhaustion.

“Yeah, I am.” Your head tilts, and fuck— he can’t help it. He shuffles closer, holding your head in his hands. You look wrong in his hold, like something precious and way too expensive, something he’d never earn the value of in his lifetime. You press into his touch, and he just can’t let you go.

“You came.” Wet tears stream down your face, and he wipes them away with his thumbs. “I thought you were— I thought you might not make it here.”

“I promised.” It’s all he has time for right now. He has a hostage he needs to fuck up. “Where’d he go.”

You flick your head down in the direction of where he came.

“He has the keys. You gotta— once I’m out I can help you.” You blink a few times, and it looks like your seeing his face for the first time. “You… how did you get out?”

“He’s got these guys— strong, like you, nearly beat the shit out of me. Injected myself with that.” He looks over at the briefcase. “Never felt better.”

“You aren’t hurt.” You say, and it should be a good thing, but Frank starts to worry because you look uneasy.

“Not anymore. You know what it is?”

“Yeah.” That fact that you don’t say it right away makes Frank think he doesn’t want to know.

“I gave it to you, too.” You shake your head, and his worries evaporate. A simple move from you, and he’s easy. Fuck— he was glad you were here.

“It’s fine. It won’t kill us. You need to go. Get the keys, get me out. Bring him with you.” Frank nods, taking another second to look at you. Just making sure— your eyes were wide, a little fearful but alive and bright. Open. Skin was warm. You were okay. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Please.”

Something crashes behind Frank, and he turns and leaves before saying another word. He was going to drag that cunt back here kicking and screaming. He had to be alive— but Frank has learned a thousand ways to make a man wish he wasn’t.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Six minutes.

You counted it.

It took Frank six minutes to track down the country’s biggest gang leader, the man who has evaded the FBI and CIA for years, the man who had built an entire, intricate network of tunnels and bunkers to avoid being caught. Without his men, that Frank also took down, it took him six minutes to beat him bloody and drag him back to you.

You used to be so afraid of him. He was the man who haunted your nightmares, a face you’d see every time you closed you eyes. Almost a bogeyman. Seeing him here, on his knees, eyes swollen shut while Frank rips the keys out of his back pocket… it’s surreal almost.

“You w—“ Frank kicks him in the stomach, whatever words he was going to say lost in the burst pain. While he falls to the ground, breathing slow, Frank unlocks the handcuffs and you stand way too fast. Your first steps are the three that gets you out of this fucking room.

Frank sees you bolt outside, back pressed against the opposite wall. Then he turns, punching Bobby in the face before grabbing him by the leg and dragging him out and down the hallway. He’s groaning in pain, trying to say something but Frank just keeps dragging him. You walk behind, a sick enjoyment bubbling through you at the sight of him so… weak.

“How are we getting him up the stairs like this?” You ask once you’ve stopped at the base of the giant staircase. It must of taken you an hour to come down here, and your head was still a little fuzzy from the blood loss. Your own blood doesn’t heal you as well— fucking figures.

Frank doesn’t say anything, just starts dragging him up the stairs like a sack of flour. His head bangs against the first step, and Bobby shouts and wails like a kid. Similar to how you would of screamed for him to stop when he cut you open—

“Frank.” You say, and he stops. You look down at the man, wondering what Frank did to him in those six minutes in the dark that made him look so deformed. His arm was broken, the strange angle it was at made it obvious. One of his eyes was less bruised than the other, and he used it to lookright at you.

Maybe he thought you’d tell Frank to stop. That you’d taken pity on him. That you’d feel sorry for the way he looks. He’s still staring at you when you see a small flash of his teeth, something that could be a smile if he wasn’t missing so many teeth. You let him hold the hope for just a second.

“Make sure he’s still alive when we get to the top.” Frank huffs, like it’s an imposition, and you walk ahead, letting the pained cries of the man behind you bounce off the echoed walls. He deserved to feel what it was like to have hope it would stop, only for it to never end.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally reach the outside of the building, Bobby has passed out from the pain four times. You counted. It won’t be enough. You had twelve years of that shit. This was mild— you had a thousand days like this. It should be therapeutic to see him miserable and begging but all it does is make you angry.

Frank throws him in the back seat of the car, using rope and the seatbelts to tie him down so he can’t move. Then he ties something around his mouth, saying something to him you can’t hear. When you get back in the car, Franks hands are stained with blood.

“I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asks loudly after a moment of silence, his hands so tight on the steering wheel you can see his forearms start to shake. “Fuck. I could sprint a mile right now.”

“You feel okay? Good?” You weren’t a hundred percent sure about the effects your blood could have on him— or, the concentrated version of your blood.

“Fuckin’ fantastic. Don’t know what was in that stuff, but I haven’t run it out yet.” You can tell he feels uneasy about it, but the rush is almost overwhelming, even if he has burnt through some of it.

“It’ll be a while before it’s out of your blood system.”

“Yeah? How you know that?” His head moves a little too fast, and you wonder weather that’s how fast you move. If you look this… creepy, really. It’s fucking creepy.

“Because it’s my blood. It’ll pass through in a while, you just have to wait. He— Bobby said it wasn’t permanent.” At the mention of his name he stirs in the back and Frank reaches around, punching him in the gut while keeping his eyes on the road. “Maybe I should drive.”

“I’m good. Tell me about it— the blood shit. Help me focus.” Hoping to calm him down, you spill every little remnant of information you can remember. It’s technical, trying to explain how the plasma in your blood can be modified to heal bones and gunshot wounds, but he listens. “So why’d it work on you? If it’s your own?”

“It’s more concentrated. Based around the healing parts of my blood. He must of found a way to extract only the parts that make me strong. I lost a shit tonne of blood back there, so maybe the shot kicked my own healing back into gear.” You flick your eyes back to where Bobby is passed out again, his blood staining the seat. “I doubt I’d get it even if he explained it himself, but it’s a version of what they did to me. Only lasts a little while, but it makes you stronger. Faster. Heals you more easily. And apparently makes you jumpy as fuck.”

“I ain’t jumpy.” He grumbles, the sound sounding so much like Frank that you settle back a little, relaxing at it. “When you were in there… I uh— saw what that guy did in front of you. That kind of thing would be… if Madani found out about that, or any of those guys at the CIA. What your blood can do…”

“I know.” They’d want it. It was the edge they have been looking for. Like Bobby said, America had been fighting Gods and Super-humans for years, and they wanted something of their own. You, or your blood, would be it.

“Don’t say anything about it. Far as they know, we were in and out.” Frank looks in the review mirror, gaze hard as he checks Bobby’s positioning.

“He might say something. What if they ask him about it?”

“Can’t talk without a tongue.” You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or not. He looks serious. Very, very serious. “What?”

“You— nothing. I just want to go home.” You breathe heavily, your eyes shutting for a second. Everything hurts, and your body isn’t healing as fast as Franks did with the lack of blood in your system. Now you know why you didn’t heal fast after you were shot. You must of lost too much in the water.

“You mean back to New York, yeah?” When he says it, the words confuse you. Of course you’d be going back to New York. You don’t have anywhere… well, you don’t have anywhere. You don’t have a place, now you think about it. The only house you ever lived in is owned by someone else, but that hasn’t been home for a while.

When you said you wanted to go home, what you really meant was you wanted out of this car. You wanted to go back to somewhere warm, and safe, and somewhere you didn’t have to think about any of this. The only place you’ve ever really been able to do that, have any of that is when you were with Frank.

“Sure.” Is all you managed.

“Sure? What’s that mean?” He turns the car a little too hard, and Bobby whacks against something in the back.

“It means that— well, I don’t exactly have a place there, do I? I mean, I know Matt said we could stay until—“

“We’re not doin’ that again.”

“I didn’t think it was all bad.” You say absently, but Franks eyes catch yours in the mirror and his hands grip the wheel even tighter. “But I don’t have a house.”

“Stay with me.” Even after everything you’d done with him, been through with him, he still managed to catch you by surprise.

“Really? You’d want me to live with you?”

“Why? You got a bunch of cats you need to move in or something? You snore?” You don’t want to smile, not with who’s behind you, but he’s impossible not to smile around. “Course I do.”

“Gotta dump the baggage first.” Frank grumbles something under his breath at your words, then turns the car again, too hard. Even you struggle to stay upright. He’s still fighting off the rush of energy he’s feeling running through his veins. “Maybe we should call someone. Go to a doctor, or call Curtis. You’re still jumpy.”

One of his hand’s dropped from the wheel, and after he checked the rear view mirror one more time, confirming Bobby was passed out, his hand landed on your thigh. He did this a lot while he drove, his hand nearly covering the entirety of your thigh. Fingers absently wandering, like he had all the time in the world to tease you, even if he didn’t mean it. This time, he definitely did. His thumb was drawing circles on your skin, his palm slowly dragging the rest of his fingers up.

“Just got to work it out of my system, yeah?” You swallowed, the simmer of heat in your stomach bursting into flames at the horse growl of his voice. He dipped his hand over further, the sensitive skin of your inner thigh twitching in anticipation. You weren’t sure if it was because he was half high on…you, or what he exactly was planning to do, but as his hand gripped you tighter making you jolt in your seat, you sat a little wider. Giving him access. He swore under his breath.

“Yeah. Maybe you should g-go on that run. Work out or something.” He smirked, and held his hand there while you held your breath. He was toying with you, fucking with you, for sure… was he really going to…here? The tip of his fingers were so close, and you were practically sweating now, heart thumping in your ears.

“I think I got a better idea.” He looked at you quickly, his eyes nearly completely black, pupils blown out. Your eyes squeezed shut, at his mercy completely.

Then, his hand slid down slowly, resting where it usually did when he drove. Much lower, and much further away from where you fucking need him right now. When you open your eyes again he’s still smirking, a smart ass look on his face like he knows how worked up he just got you, even when he’s the one with all the extra energy.

All of a sudden, like Frank often encouraged in you, you forgot about everything else except how long this car ride was. You said you wanted to get home, but the more you thought about it, it was less about a destination and more about him. Home.

[next chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tag list:

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#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

[sortasirius]

Sorry I like... have to write a Buck meta right now:

He's just...he's so unsure of himself, and hides it behind that macho bravado that gets him through everything, that makes sure no one asks any questions.

He's used to people telling him that he's selfish or reckless or "makes things about him." But it's like they don't see, and therefore he doesn't see, that he might be the most kind and giving person in the entire show.

Like, let's just take a look at just a couple of the most recent examples in my watch:

Christmas. He knew that Eddie was upset that he couldn't spend Christmas with Chris, and he knew that Chris was upset and feeling like he was going to be alone on Christmas (asking Buck if he could spend Christmas with him). So he gets together with Athena and coordinates an entire surprise thing so that the whole crew can spend Christmas with their families. He coordinates Christmas dinner because that was the only thing he wanted, He pulled down mistletoe just to kiss Hen on the cheek. He spends the day with Chris because that was what he wanted.

Red. He meets Red in a bar, finds an affinity with him immediately, and he tries to better his situation. Sure, taking him to see Cindy was a mistake, but he was just trying to do right by him, make sure that he didn't feel so lonely. And then, in the end, when Red tells him that he has mesothelioma, that he can't be saved, that Buck is 40 years too late, he calls what looks like every firefighter he knows and has him sit in the captain's chair to be taken home to pass away at peace, without feeling so alone.

And Chris. Everything about Chris. How hard he fought to find Chris during the tsunami, how easy it is for him to hang out with Chris, do things with Chris, make Chris feel like the superstar he is. Buck, who we never see interact with kids before Chris arrives, takes to him immediately, and becomes one of the most trusted adults in his life. "His Buck."

It's like no one sees this. It's like they just see the class clown and the reckless young firefighter, but the don't see how vulnerable he is and how tightly he clings to the people he loves. How he screamed and sobbed and dug at the dirt to try and get Eddie out, how he fought to get to Maddie when she was kidnapped by Doug and when the dispatch station was taken. How worried he was about Bobby when he was exposed to the radiation and Hen when she was working through the accident and Chim when he was stabbed.

They are his family, and sometimes it's like they don't see how much he needs them. Yes he tries to hide it but you can almost see him white knuckling every relationship in his life because he's terrified it's going to go away.

He's so kind, so generous with his love and his heart, and I just want someone to give that back to him, to love him as unconditionally as he loves the rest of them, and for them to show him that, to really show him that they'll be there for him no matter what. Maddie does, of course, but someone who can put him first, prioritize him, not let "life happen" and him to be pushed to the side.

I've made my silly little shitposts about how he's cementing himself as a forever character, but he's truly carved himself onto my heart, what an incredible and deeply complex character that Oliver Stark has created, and I can't wait to see the rest of his journey.

#evan buckley #911 #my meta #liveblog #dusting off the meta tag for the new boy #911 abc #911 fox #buck buckley

[buddiefix]

Angst (Well/Shooting Era) Fic's

The following are some of my favourite buddie fanfictions that involve angst, focusing on S4/S5's well/shooting.

(Any new fic's I find that fall under this category will be added to this post, so feel free to check back for edits!)

i'd be in pieces on the floor (forever winter) by archerincombat, catchingpapermoons

9-1-1 (TV)  

“You’re tired,” Eddie repeats, and Buck nods. “You’ve been ‘tired’ for weeks.”

“I’m not sleeping well,” Buck counters with a shrug. Eddie frowns.

“Why not?” he asks. “Is there something…” Eddie trails off like he’s not sure what to say. As if Buck knows the answer.

Language: English Words: 5,738 Chapters: 1/1

the light's been out though, baby by hattalove

9-1-1 (TV)  

He still gets stuck in it sometimes: the absolute silence after the shot, and time so, so still in that endless second when Eddie’s eyes met his. When the air turned cool against the skin of Buck’s face because there was something else, now, something warmer, sticky in his eyelashes, pooling at the corner of his mouth. Staining him in a way that will never, never come out, all in the time it took to remember how to breathe again.

It didn’t happen fast at all. There are days when Buck wakes up and thinks it might still be happening.

And Eddie is—Eddie won’t—Eddie—

or, six months after the near-fatal shooting of a member of the LAFD, footage of the incident surfaces on social media.

Language: English Words: 15,849 Chapters: 1/1

All These People Think Love's for Show, but I Would Die for You in Secret by greensenne

9-1-1 (TV)  

"I think it might have been better for him if I was the one who got shot," Buck had told him in the hospital.

He’d neglected to mention that it almost had been.

—

Or, Eddie doesn’t remember much about getting shot, and he definitely doesn’t remember Buck endangering himself to save him. When a video of the incident surfaces months later and Eddie learns the truth—needless to say he isn’t pleased. Important conversations ensue.

Language: English Words: 6,930 Chapters: 1/1

don't let the tide come and wash us away by writerforlife

9-1-1 (TV)  

Buck develops a relationship with the ocean, avoids talking about the day Eddie was shot, realizes he might be in love, and drives.

Order may vary.

(a fic for the "Buck is going to break all the way down in season 6" truthers)

Language: English Words: 23,869 Chapters: 3/3

Overcome by Spicysauce

9-1-1 (TV)  

“I’m not leaving you, Buck.” Eddie says with a tired sigh, like he’s struggling with the weight of the world and Buck’s the one who put it there. “Just switching jobs, that’s all.”

That’s all?, Buck wants to scream, because every relationship he has is tied to the job in some way, and first Maddie left, and then it was Chimney, and now it’s Eddie. But he doesn’t scream, because that would be a little bit too tragic, even for him, and nods instead. Bites his tongue. Pretends that he isn't falling apart where he's stood.

Or, set post season 5A, where Buck is alone, and angry, and exhausted, but mostly terrified that everyone he loves is slowly slipping away from him.

Language: English Words: 53,697 Chapters: 10/10

you were never mine by woodchoc_magnum

9-1-1 (TV)  

Set immediately post 5x10 'Wrapped in Red', in which Eddie is leaving the 118, and Buck is floundering in the aftermath of his decision.

Language: English Words: 62,312 Chapters: 7/7

Been Holding My Breath, Been Counting Till Ten (over something you said) by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky

9-1-1 (TV)  

“No getting out of it now.” Bobby’s steady voice makes him flinch.

“We literally haven’t moved.”

“You could run,” Bobby says with a shrug. “But then you’d have to deal with Athena.” He steps into the RV.

Turning around, Buck sees Athena standing at the doorway, her hand still in the air. When she catches his eye, something in her expression shifts. He’s seen that expression before. Typically, she uses it on people who are about to flee arrest.

I fucking dare you.

Sighing, Buck gets on the RV.

-

After a call that is almost his last, Buck is having a hard time. He’s avoids his family, his friends, and everything in between. When Bobby suggests they go on a road trip, he almost laughs. But what’s worse? He actually says yes.

Or: The Post 5A recovery road trip fic literally no one asked for, but I wrote anyway.

Language: English Words: 20,018 Chapters: 1/1

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 buddie #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 fandom #9-1-1 fic #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz

[sortofanobsession]

Buddie prompt: After Buck recovers from the lightening strike, Eddie is distant and trying to be stoic. One night Buck shows up for impromptu movie night. Chris is thrilled while Eddie barely holds it together. During the moving Chris lays his head over Buck's heart and listens to the beat, and then tells his dad to come and do the same. Before Eddie can protest Buck's pulling him in. The steady beat fills Eddie's ears and he finally looses it spectacularly, full emotional catharsis. Love ensues

Author's Note: I love this prompt soooo much. I stayed up later than I should have last night to start it and put off my actual work to get it finished. I just love prompts like this. They make me so happy. Hopefully I did it justice.

Buddie Fic

Ao3

Buck/Eddie, Christopher & his dad(s)

SPOILERS! other warnings: hospitals, injury, angst.

Word count: 3k+ (because of this song...)

I'm afraid of what you'll see, right now

Buck doesn't understand what is happening. Everyone seemed so glad to see him awake. Everyone but Eddie. Eddie would say he was glad, and Christopher was so happy to see him. But Eddie was pulling away from him, and Buck didn't understand why. Buck knows he was injured again. He was hit by lightning. The same lightning bolt had knocked Eddie off the truck too. Everyone has told him how Eddie reacted. They told him how Eddie had screamed for him over and over. Not even thinking about the fact he got hit too. Eddie had gone up the ladder without hesitation, without safety gear, without worrying about another lightning strike. A second hit so close to the first one would have killed Eddie. A second hit would have thrown Eddie off the ladder without a safety harness. Eddie could have died. But he had been more worried about Buck. That is what everyone told him. 

So why wouldn't Eddie look at him now? Why was Eddie making excuses to avoid hanging out? It hurts almost as much as his injuries. 

"Give him time, Evan," Maddie had told him. 

"But I don't get it-"

"I know," Maddie adds, squeezing Buck's hand gently that is holding Jee-Yun to his chest. The little girl playing with the fingers on Buck's other hand. Maddie had hoped seeing his niece would lift his spirits. And it did for a bit. Buck had smiled and hugged her, but as usual, things always swung back around to Eddie.

"When he came by with Christopher, he stayed by the door or stared out the window. What if he is mad? What if he doesn't want me to be Christopher's guardian anymore because it's too risky?"

"I can't tell you what is going on in his head, but the fact he brought Christopher means it's nothing you did, Buck. You know that. He isn't taking Christopher from you. He brought him to you, even when you weren't awake. If he hasn't said anything about changing it yet to you or any of us, I think your safe in that one."

"Or he is just waiting until Christopher isn't around or until I'm better to break the news," Buck counters.

"Or you're overthinking it," Chim said from where he sat beside Maddie. "I mean, this is Eddie. He's broody, and he can be a jerk, but he isn't the best at tact when he is in a mood. He always lets that stuff slip out. And it hasn't. And you know he's normally too stubborn to ask for help or advice, but he still drops hints even if he doesn't realize it. And no one has seen any. Not to any of the team. And trust me. Bobby has been watching. Since the two of you got knocked off that truck, Bobby hasn't stopped watching him. So Maddie's probably right. Let Frank deal with it and focus on what matters, getting better."

Buck didn't want to admit he could see what Chim meant. He just also couldn't shake the doubt he still had. Because this was Eddie. And Buck liked to think he knew Eddie better than anyone, but did he know this Eddie?

It was like the lawsuit all over again. Eddie wasn't talking to him. Not like before. Not like when Eddie would tell him everything. It stung. But every time Buck would try and bring it up to him, Eddie would shut it down. Tell him he just wanted Buck to focus on getting better. 

"You don't need my shit right now, Buck," Eddie had told him the one time Buck managed to get an answer. "You deal with getting better. Besides, that's what Frank is for." Then Eddie had made an excuse to leave the room, and Buck was left with just Christopher for a good half hour. Eddie may have thought that would make Buck feel better, but it didn't. 

Buck had hoped it would get better once he was out of the hospital. That Eddie would see that the doctors had deemed him healthy enough to go about it on his own. But it only made it worse. After Buck's leg, Eddie hovered. He would drag him out of bed. Take him to PT and force Buck to socialize. After Eddie got shot, it was more dinners with Buck. They had guys' nights, movie nights, and game nights. This time was different. Eddie made excuses. He'd still drop Christopher off to have days or nights with his Buck.

"Oh, Buckaroo," Carla had hugged him one day as she dropped Christopher off with him. "It's not you. He's trying to work through his issues. He's just too stubborn to admit he has them to us."

"What issues? What has changed other than me?" Buck asks her.

"I wish I could tell you, but you're just going to have to be more stubborn than he is and wait him out. He won't fully disappear on you. I can guarantee that much. He just might need a bit of a push."

Buck thinks about that, and with Christopher's help, he makes a plan. 

The next week he rents a movie. Buys a pizza and a few drinks and goes to Eddie's house. 

Eddie's eyes go wide when he answers the door. Buck feels uneasy at the brief panic that seems to cross Eddie's face before Eddie can hide it. Buck thinks maybe he screwed up. Maybe he is pushing too hard, too fast. Or that maybe Eddie has someone over. Maybe he- 

"Christopher is in the living room," Eddie says, interrupting Buck's mental panic. Eddie steps back to let Buck into the house. Buck hesitates, which earns a raised brow from Eddie. 

"You coming in?" Eddie asks. 

"Yeah," Buck nods.

"You okay? How you feeling?" Eddie asks as he takes the pizza from Buck and brings it to the kitchen. 

"I'm okay," Buck tells him. His nerves have him shifting his weight back and forth as he sets the drinks down. His hands go into his pockets to keep from showing how nervous he is. "Doctors said I could start getting out more, hence…" he gestures to the pizza, the rented movie on top of it, and the drinks. "This. Figured no better place to be than a medic's place." Buck's stomach dropped at the way Eddie seemed to flinch at his statement. And Buck starts to think he made the wrong decision. He doesn't realize that Eddie flinches because of the idea that Buck is afraid to go out somewhere he would enjoy hitting him hard. Buck picked him because either Buck was here just because Eddie would keep him alive while he hung out with Christopher, or maybe Buck was just scared to go anywhere yet.

"You're always welcome here, you know that," Eddie told him as he grabbed plates.

Buck had to bite his tongue to keep from questioning that statement. Because to him, it felt like Eddie was pushing him away. Like Eddie was keeping him at an arm's length, and Buck hates every second of it. But it was selfish to want more. Eddie was letting him in his house. He was letting him see Christopher. That was more than he had gotten during the lawsuit. So Buck kept that question to himself. 

Buck didn't see that as Eddie grabbed the plates. He was actually having a mini panic of his own. Eddie was taking a second while his back was turned to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Frank had told him something like this was a good thing. They needed to get back to normal. For Buck. For Christopher. For Eddie. It would help with Eddie's nightmares. It might help ease the constant fear that Eddie has now that every time he closes his eyes he sees Buck dying. Heart stopped by the lightning that hit both of them. Eddie had bile rising in his throat on more than one occasion since that night. He had been hoping the others hadn't noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That he didn't eat nearly as much these days. And the fact he seemed to run on pure caffeine and anxiety. Bobby had noticed but agreed to let Eddie keep trying to work through it with Frank. 

Eddie forces himself to breathe before turning back around and setting the plates on top of the pizza box so he can carry everything. The less Buck has to carry, the better. 

 "Grab those, and we'll get the movie going," Eddie says with a gesture to the drinks. 

They watch the movie as they eat. An uneasy tension fills the air that both men hope Christopher is spared from. Christopher was tucked tight between them, curled into Buck's side as they watch the movie. Or at least pretend to. Eddie couldn't describe the plot if he tried. He just watches the two of them out of the corner of his eye and tries to keep his breathing even. He had to force himself to eat normally. To not let Buck see the constant edge that Eddie seemed to teeter on these days. It's not until Christopher lets out a little hum of a sigh as he snuggles into Buck's chest that Eddie lets himself fully look down at him. 

Buck smiles down at Christopher. Ruffling the boy's hair slightly. And Eddie's heart hurts. It hurts because they were so close, never having this again. If they hadn't been able to get Buck down as quickly as they did. If Chimney hadn't started chest compressions as quickly as he did. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the mental image. Only opening them when he feels a slight tug on his forearm. 

"You should listen too. It helps," Christopher whispers as he tugs again at his sleeve. Eddie shakes his head. He was about to open his mouth to argue when he feels a hand on the back of his neck. Eddie goes ridged, and his gaze snaps to Buck's, but Buck just gives him a nervous smile and a gentle squeeze to the back of his neck. Eddie's muscles practically melt under Buck's movement. His breathing hitched, and he felt himself losing that tight grip he had had on emotions. Eddie's eyes close again as he tries to get himself together. But before he can, Buck is pulling him down. Eddie's eyes open to see Christopher now half on Buck's knee and half on the other side of the couch. Buck was now in the middle. Buck pulled him down until Eddie's ear is against his chest. And Eddie can hear the way Buck's heart beats steadily in his chest. He can feel Buck's breath in his hair and the rise and fall of his chest against him. Any grip Eddie had left on his emotions, his control deteriorated. The sobs hit him harder than the lightning had. Harder than he hit the ground that night. It stole the air from his lungs and blurred his vision. He fists tight in Buck's shirt.

"Eddie…" Buck starts but is stopped as he feels Eddie shake his head against him. "Eds, It's okay." Buck shifts to hold him tighter. He wants to comfort him. He can't help it. Eddie buries his face in Buck's neck and cries. Buck looks over at Christopher, who looks a bit scared. He hadn't expected such a visceral reaction from his dad. "It's okay, bud," Buck assures him. "I'll take care of him." 

Christopher nodded and moved to sit on the chair to keep watching the movie. Or at least give his dad and Buck more space. But he didn't want to leave, not if his dad or Buck might need him. He knew his dad might feel embarrassed. So he would stay for now.

"Hey," Buck whispers to Eddie as he holds him tight. One hand rubs Eddie's back as he cries. The other is in his hair as he holds the back of Eddie's head. "I'm here, Eds." Buck could feel the way Eddie's breath stuttered against his skin. The way Eddie shook. Eddie was falling to pieces in Buck's arms, and it tears at something deep inside Buck. He had missed Eddie the past few weeks. He didn't like the idea of Eddie suffering without him. And now it was clear Eddie had missed him too. Eddie had meant it when he said he didn't want to put his shit on Buck. But Carla was right. Maddie and Chim were right. Eddie had clearly been working through something. He clearly didn't want to be a burden to Buck. He didn't want to hurt Buck and was willing to hurt himself to do it. But Carla, Chim, and Maddie were wrong about one thing. Buck shouldn't have waited. He should have tried sooner. Because if this was how Eddie was now, after weeks of working with Frank and trying to sort through it. And knowing what the others had said about that night. This is what they both needed. They both hadn't wanted to be a burden, but they both needed each other. "I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. Do you hear me? I am not leaving. I'm not going to leave you. You made sure of that. I'm here because you saved me."

"Buck…I…you…" Eddie tries. 

"Shhhh," Buck brushes his fingers through Eddie's hair. "It's okay. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. I don't care. Take whatever you need. I'm here." 

Eddie struggles to steady his breathing enough to speak. "I need you," Eddie manages. "God, I need you." He goes absolutely pliant as Buck pulls Eddie into his lap. 

"I need you too," Buck tells him. He glances up when he realizes the movie is no longer playing. Christopher is no longer in the chair. He looks back to see Christopher put his finger to his lips and shush him and smile as he disappears down the hall. Buck's heart swells at how much he adores that smart and loving kid. When Christopher is gone, he looks back to Eddie. "The last few weeks have been shit because I missed you. Maddie and Carla said to give you time. You told me that too, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't wait anymore because I missed you. I need you."

"I'm so sorry," Eddie says. Any strength he had melts away as he meets Buck's gaze.

"Nothing to apologize for," Buck smiles before shifting himself so he can brush his thumb along the edge of the dark circles under Eddie's eyes. "I do regret not coming here sooner."

"You needed to heal," Eddie says, one hand still tight in his shirt. The other now pressed over Buck's heart to feel the steady beat under his palm. "I needed you to be okay. I can't lose you…I just can't. I'm not-"

"I know the feeling," Buck chuckles. "Eddie, when you were shot, it was one of the most terrifying moments in my life, and yes, that includes being crushed. The only moment that comes anywhere close to that was losing Christopher in the tsunami."

"Buck, you-"

"I know it wasn't my fault. Just like you getting shot wasn't. Just like it's not either of our fault that lightning hit me. Hit us." Buck brushes tears away from Eddie's cheek. "What you can take credit for is saving me. You made sure the line wasn't damaged. You helped get me down. You drove me to the hospital. And you give me every reason to keep pushing to get better."

"You saved me first," Eddie points out. "You got me to the truck after I got shot. You kept me from bleeding out. You took care of Christopher. You drove me home. Then when I just kept losing myself, you pulled me back. You took care of Christopher again. You called Bobby. You helped patch my walls. You are always the reason I get back up off the ground. Even after the lightning."

"We make one hell of a pair," Buck says with a grin. "Please don't push me away again. I know you thought you were doing what was best, but it just made me miss you. Because you were there, but you weren't really there an-"

"I won't," Eddie is probably too quick to agree, but he's sitting on Buck's lap, for Christ's sake. Who was he to argue now? "I was stupid." 

"You were doing your best," Buck assures him, his fingers brushing against his skin again. "I know you weren't doing it to hurt me."

"I'd rather eat glass than intentionally hurt you again," Eddie admits.

"Let's not do that," Buck shakes his head but smiles. "And I was more confused than anything."

"Nah, I'm sure you had that kicked puppy look you always get," Eddie grins.

"That's rich coming from the guy sitting in my lap," Buck teases. 

Eddie turns red when he realizes how he must look, but when he tries to get up, Buck holds him tighter.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, Eddie," Buck takes the opportunity to bury his face in Eddie's neck this time. "I wanted nothing more than just to talk to you the last few weeks. If you think now that I've gotten you here that I'm just going to let you get away, you are wrong. You must have forgotten that I can be just as stubborn as you." 

Eddie shudders at the way Buck's breath ghosts across his skin. Buck can't help but chuckle. 

"Chris is-"

"In his room," Buck grins.

"What?" Eddie looks around as best he can from his spot pinned against Buck. 

"He shut the movie off and went to his room when you started talking again. I think he figured I had it under control. Bold of him to assume I wouldn't say something stupid. I did get my brain fried by a lot of electricity."

That earns a breathy laugh from Eddie. 

"Probably was more worried he'd see something scarring. Like his dad balling like a baby in your lap," Eddie winced. "Poor kid's gonna need even more therapy." 

"No more than the rest of us," Buck admits. "But he's a smart kid. He knows you can't just keep things bottled up. That this is a good thing."

"I am glad you're here," Eddie says. 

"Me too." Buck grins, and it's Eddie's turn to reach up and touch. He runs his fingers along Buck's cheek. Then his birthmark. Something he's wanted to do since day one but never thought he would get to. 

"I thought I lost you," Eddie admits. 

"But you didn't," Buck assures him. "Quite the opposite. I think you're stuck with me even more now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Eddie counters, his hand moving to Buck's jaw. "And the feeling's mutual. You thought I used to hover. Well, you're in for it now." He gently tugs on Buck's chin until they are a breath apart. "You're never getting rid of us."

"Never want to," Buck breathes before he closes the gap, and their lips meet in a kiss. 

"Carla says the doctor says none of that serious stuff!" They hear Christopher shout from his bedroom. Buck blushes to the tips of his ears as Eddie groans. But Buck is first to recover.

"Tell Carla she's off the clock, and you come back, and we'll finish the movie," Buck manages to say. Eddie groans again but moves back to sit in his own seat. 

"You guys aren't going to be gross if I do, right?" Christopher's voice comes from the hall now. 

"We won't be gross," Buck says with an eye roll.

"I make no promises," Eddie mutters. His hand finds Buck's and laces their fingers together. Buck grins over at him and steals a kiss.

"Gross," Christopher mumbles as he sits in the chair, but the grin on his face speaks volumes. Clearly happy his dad is feeling better and that Buck is happy too. 

"Sorry, not sorry," Buck smirks before grabbing the remote with his free hand and starting the movie again. He snuggles tighter into Eddie's side when Eddie drapes his arm over the back of the couch before dropping it on Buck's shoulder. 

"Not one bit," Eddie mutters with a smirk. 

"Nope," Buck agrees.

"Shhh, you already talked through half the movie," Christopher doesn't even look at them. The pair try not to laugh as they all settle back in. 

"I don't even know what is happening in this movie," Eddie whispers. Christopher shushes him again.

"I'll explain it later," Buck assures him.

#911 fic #buddie fic #911 spoilers #911 fox spoilers #spoilers #prompt fill #buck/eddie #buck x eddie #injured evan buckley #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #tw: hospitals #tw: fear #tw: angst #tw: injury #tw: anxiety #tw: worry

[bijoharvelle]

(sorry that i think cas was at his hottest in season 4. as if it's my fault.) inspired by my own tags on this gifset from @gentlemancowboy like a month ago

Dean is faking sleep – Sammy only just knocked off, tossing and turning and muttering on Bobby’s couch that he outgrew more than ten years ago – when Castiel fizzles into existence. Hell is still screaming through his head and for a minute he can’t tell the difference between the soft black of the back of his eyelids and the cold void of hellfire.

The sound of wings, though, is familiar. The sound of Castiel coming is familiar, like some distant memory tucked away in his time below.

His heart is going triple-time in the cage of his chest and the rapid pulse roils through shame and guilt and hurt, like it’s still trying to pound out of Victor’s ice grip. There’s a roaring in his ears that maybe sounds like Viktor’s scream so he can’t be sure of what he says to the angel (if that's what this even is). He just knows that it’s snatchy and prickly because he doesn’t know how to be anything else in this situation. Every time he blinks he sees the bodies of people he let die: hunters, civilians, people just doing their jobs, innocent bystanders. Witnesses.

He comes back to himself when the angel in front of him tosses his hands up in defeat. It’s something, to annoy a celestial being into petulance, but Dean figures that’s Castiel’s fault. He’s the one who groped him out of Hell after all. Dean is his problem, now.

Castiel moves in closer and Dean is reminded of big cats in the wild, stalking in on cornered prey. Fever rises in him, a contrast against the high-whine of desperation that has been flooding his system since Victor reached for his heart, since Meg put the beat-down on him, since he crawled out of his own grave. 

“You should show me some respect,” Castiel rasps out and Dean’s breathing catches in his throat. The angel is close enough that Dean can smell the off-center scent coming off him, something like metal melting and the milk of dandelion. He’s close enough that Dean can tell he isn’t breathing, doesn’t need to breathe.

“I dragged you out of Hell,” the angel says, voice whip-tight and Dean hears himself in it, an echo of Dean’s regret and guilt borne in Castiel’s admittance that six of his brothers were killed. “I can throw you back in.”

It’s a threat but Dean’s wiring has always been more than a little crossed, so he’s not surprised that it makes heat surge through his chest and straight down to his dick.

“Should maybe make it worthwhile then, huh?” Dean says, and he means it to be cocky and smug and flirtatious but it comes out reed-thin and needy. Before he can do anything to save face, he’s on his knees, eyes bowed up to look at the angel above him.

Castiel’s face is blank, calculating. Dean can practically see him flipping through a rolodex of human behavior, trying to place just what Dean is doing. His head cocks to the side, just the slightest bit and Dean’s eyes track along the dark shock of hair along his head. He wants to twist his fingers in it.

Instead, he gets one hand around Castiel’s hip and presses his face full into the guy’s crotch. And maybe Castiel doesn’t have to breathe, but there’s a long pull of inhale from the angel and Dean smiles to himself at that.

“What–”

“Shh,” Dean hushes, purposefully letting a hot stream of his breath run along Castiel’s leg. The angel obeys and Dean nuzzles between his legs.

And it’s familiar. It’s easy, Dean knows this. He knows bodies and pleasure, understands the simplicity of the role before him. For a minute, the wild chaos of torture in his head dulls and he can almost hear himself think. It takes him a minute to realize that Castiel has one hand resting atop his head, gentle and tentative.

Dean gets his tongue around the ugly-ass fabric of Castiel’s ugly-ass slacks and clamps his teeth on the zipper of the fly. Sharp metal pricks his tongue and Castiel’s hand goes a little heavier in his hair.

“You’re shaking,” Castiel says. It’s quiet, but in the hush of the night around them, Dean takes it like gunshot. He doesn’t answer, just looks up at Castiel through his lashes and tugs the zipper down. Reaching up one hand to pop the button, he realizes that Castiel is right. He’s shaking. He swallows past it and coasts his hand under the white dress shirt, skin skipping along skin.

“You’re shaking,” Castiel says again, even softer this time. Dean’s arm is stretched, hand splayed over where Castiel’s heart would be if angels had hearts, and his mouth is open against the boxers that the angel is wearing and in any other life he might laugh at that: angels wear boxers. There isn’t any room for revelation in his head, though, he’s still busy trying to rush through the sudden quiet in his mind.

He hasn’t been alone in his thoughts in forty years or two weeks. It’s all been a twisted havoc of Alastair’s hissing voice and the wretched cries he wrenched from souls and taunts from other demons. It’s all been a jumble of all the ways he was never good enough in life and how that was proved true when he finally climbed down off the Rack. It’s all been an endless parade of self-hate, guilt, shame, terror.

And so part of him is chanting in the background that he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve this quiet, this relief, but soon enough that too is soothed back. Until all he can focus in on is the pressure of Castiel’s hand on the crown of his head and the heat of Castiel’s cock under his tongue.

The angel is ramrod still, every muscle tuned taut to almost snapping and Dean wants more than anything to make him break. Dean wants more than anything to feel those fingers clench in his hair, those hips thrust against his chin. He wants to find out whether angels come and if they do, fuck, he wants to taste it.

He realizes that his knees and back aren’t aching the way they should be, the way they usually do, and he lilts his eyes up. That’s when he finds that Castiel is watching him with such rapt attention that it should be blasphemous. He was pretty sure one of the main commandments from the Big Guy upstairs was taking no other God before him and Castiel is looking at him like he might just turn false idols. Castiel is looking at him and looking at him and it’s enough that for a split second and no more Dean thinks maybe there is something in him worth saving. 

He didn’t like the idea of God’s eye narrowing in on him but he doesn’t hate the idea of Castiel’s attention on him, unwavering.

Their eyes are latched and Dean can tell that Castiel is keying up higher and higher and he’s about to break

and Dean wakes up on the floor.

He wakes up on the floor, gasping, and desperately hard, and with a sharp pain around his jaw and lurking in his knees and back. There’s weak sunlight pooling in and the couch is empty, Sam walking around somewhere further in the house.

Dean closes his eyes and he doesn’t see Victor, or Meg, or Randy, or any dead bodies. He just sees the iridescent imprint of blue irises, floating like haloes out of the darkness.

#deancas #deancas fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #chayya writes

[randoauthor]

Rookie Year (R.F)

Pairings: Robert Floyd x Reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 908

Author's Note: Enjoy!

Summary: You loved your boyfriend in every sense of the word, and you supported him through high school. This year was different, this year he wanted to try something new, and like always you planned on supporting him through it.

MasterList!

"Woah, woah slow down baby," you said in as calm of a voice as you could, "what do you want to do?"

How you found yourself in this situation you have no idea. One minute you were sitting in your shared living room. It was the first day of the season that the fireplace could be turned on so you made sure you were gonna take full advantage of it.

As a Colorado native the move to Annapolis worried you, but as the show feathered down from the sky the worries you had disappeared. It wasn't until your fiancé came crashing back into the house that you decided to worry.

Hi face was bright red from the cold, his hair lightly dusted with snow, and his chest heaved slightly. The puppy that was sound asleep on your lap has jumped up excitedly at the sight of her dad coming home, hopping happily over you to go greet him at the door.

"Babe." He said panting heavily. "You'll never believe this."

He rushed around to the couch, not even bothering to take his coat off, and that is where you two sat for the next hour as he excitedly told you about his newest idea.

"Hockey?" You say slowly.

He nodded a response, his smile displaying large on his face. His eyes sat behind a pair of glasses, studying your face nervously as you let yourself think.

Robert Sebastian Floyd had never given you a reason to worry, in fact, ever since your senior year of high school the motto of your relationship had always been, support each other regardless of the decision. He supported you through your marine biology degree, and you supposed his decision to go the Naval Academy. The two of you spending the last three years of your relationship doing long distance, using every chance you had to make the almost seven hour drive to see each other. Every passion, every hobby, every crazy idea. You stood by each other's sides.

And when you finished your degree a year early, he knew getting down on one knee, practically sobbing as he asked you to be his wife. The moment will forever be sat and framed above the fireplace, the perfect moment being kept in the perfect spot.

"Babe?" He said softly, trying his best to break the strangling silence.

You snap out of your thoughts, looking at your future husband you gaze softens. He is gonna have so much of his life ahead of him.

"Bobby," you say softly, laying a hand gently on his cheek. "You have never given me a reason to worry, you are the love of my life, and if this is what you want to do then I will support you through it."

The once worried expression faded away to reveal joy.

And now you were here.

Six months later, bundled up in an ice rink. Somehow, somewhere in the middle of Canada, cheering your heart out for the boy who has sat on the bench for most of the year.

To his credit he looks really good in hockey gear, and you were still unbelievably proud of him. Spending every single evening after a game comforting his frustration.

The final game of the season seemed to be the most tense one, it was the finals after all. You sat looking just as proud of him as the game before, his name a number proudly sitting on the back of the jersey you wore. The end of the third period coming quickly to an end and the teams were tied.

Letting your mind wander slightly you were quickly snapped back in as Bob went flying past, being on the ice was unusual for him so you were going to make sure that you got to see every second it. He was flying down the ice, skating in and out of the opposing team before finally getting the puck.

It was like you were watching life in slow motion, watching as your fiancé raised his stick and with a sharp *WHAP* the puck made a home in the back of the neck. Screams and cheers erupted from the crowd as the Navy team was now up by one with less than a minute remaining in the game. Bob looked around the stadium excitedly, trying his hardest to find you as his teammates began to celebrate around him.

The game ended and a few short minutes later you found yourself on the ice weaving in and out of players and their families, desperately trying to find the love of your life.

With a gentle hand placed on your back, you were being swept off your feet in the arms of your future husband. Peppering him with kisses, you didn't care who saw at this point.

"I am so unbelievably proud of you bobby," you say in between kisses, earning a chuckle out of him. "You won the game!"

He gave you another smile before kissing you on the lips.

"Darling, I won a lot more than the game."

And now, sitting next to the picture of the greatest day of you life sits a slightly smaller picture of Robert Floyd hold you up on the ice, kissing you. One that was taken while you were both blissfully unaware. Along with it sits the puck he scored with, labeled with the date and game.

A great memory from his rookie year.

Taglist!

@itscheybaby

@turningtoclown

@daryldixonstorm

@Dilfsandtherapy

@Nickie-amore

@malindacath

@luckyladycreator2

@sadpetalsstuff

@Shanimallina87

@Wishingwell-2

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@Majormaybe1

@Mizzy-pop

@Saramaple

@Hope-love-equality2

@toothhurtyam

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@fogle97

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@callsigns-roo-and-bag

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@malindacath

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@notanordinaryprincess95

@fxngsfxgxrty

@louisahale

#top gun: maverick #tg:m #top gun maverick #maverick top gun #top gun #robert bob floyd #lt. robert floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd fluff

[trashyinfernomusic]

WIP Wednesday

I have made no progress on my almost 22k monstrosity because of work, but goshdarnit, I’m gonna get this sucker done if it kills me! PJO/9-1-1 AU :D ------

“Okay, that is a beautiful man,” Chimney says, and the pressure on Buck’s mind releases almost instantly.

Acknowledging what’s beyond the Mist can release the effects, any demigod worth their salt knows that. Not for the first time, Buck wonders if Chimney can See.

He whirls around before the pressure can return and immediately prepares himself to reach for his knife. “Beautiful” combined with the Mist is never a good thing. For all he knows, there could be an empousa waiting for him to be alone so she can have herself a snack. Or worse: his mother could be making a visit.

Things never go well when his mother shows up.

Luckily for him, or maybe unluckily, it’s not his mother (probably) and definitely not an empousa (because those are usually much more feminine in appearance). Nope, it is actually a man. Just a man. Probably, anyway – he’s heard stories of the Chimera looking like a chihuahua and a fury being an old math teacher, so just about anything’s possible when it comes to the Mist. But, while his mind is screaming at him to look anywhere but the admittedly gorgeous specimen of a man, he’s almost certain that he actually is just a man.

Ugh, it’s like the Mist can’t make up its mind. Buck’s not sure if he desperately wants to look away or rush to the hunk and ask him everything under the sun.

He distantly hears Hen’s response – something about liking girls and lying – but di immortals, all he can think right now as the man pulls a shirt over his head in what feels like slow motion is: please, for the love of Olympus, tell me he’s not my brother.

Demigods have learned to look past most of the fucked up family tree, but godly siblings? Big no-no.

Tanned muscles, thick brown hair that’s just the right amount of unruly, a bit of stubble around the jaw – oh, and Buck’s sure that face is sporting some to die for chocolatey brown eyes – this man is something else.

He can almost smell his chances of making the hot firefighter calendar going up in smoke right before his very eyes.

And the sad part is, he’s not sure he’d mind.

Fuck, forget my brother. Please don’t let him be a monster. Killing this much pretty? Ugh, someone would curse him just for taking the eye candy from the world.

He can almost hear Silena now, chiding him for what is, apparently, a bit of a gay panic.

Bi panic? He’s never really been one to be picky.

Of course, it takes a few moments for him to realize that beyond this whole internal Mess (and yes, that’s in capital letters. Defining things as a demigod makes them a requirement) he’s figures out the reason for the Mist.

“Who the hell is that?” he asks, mostly so that he can finally put a name to the new Wrong that’s wormed its way into his life.

Buck doesn’t see it, he’s too busy staring at six-pack candyland to turn around, but he can hear the smile in Bobby’s voice as he says, “It’s Eddie Diaz. New recruit. Graduated top of his class just this week.” He goes on to talk about something else. Station Six. Dying to have him. All sorts of stuff that Buck just doesn’t want to listen to.

He’s a bit busy mulling over this scrap of information.

See, Buck officially has a Problem. A Mist using enigma of a Problem.

And his name is Eddie Diaz.

#9-1-1 on fox #fanfic #9-1-1 au #evan buck buckley #Eddie Diaz #demigod!buck #who knows what the heck eddie is #Buddie #pjo crossover #greek mythology AU