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911 character studies ✯ Bobby Nash

Life doesn't care how strong you think you are. It will find a way to break you, to pull you down until you've hit rock bottom. But while you're down there, if you open your eyes, you might finally be able to gain the clarity you need to find your way back up. Because life doesn't have any dead ends when you refuse to quit moving; when you trade rock bottom for your rock, for what really matters in life. Though you may find your new road to still be rough...just remember that nothing worth doing is easy. And that, with the help of your loved ones, you can find the strength to continue on.

[Image description: 8 gifs of Bobby Nash from 9-1-1. Gif 1: Bobby and Athena lean forward and rest their foreheads together, breathing heavily after Athena rushed into the burning building to save Bobby after he'd been shot. Gif 2: Bobby sits rigidly in his Captain's uniform, waiting for his review. Gif 3: Bobby stands on the roof of the fire station, far away from view, the American flag flying over him. Athena bursts through the side door to get to him. Gif 4: A shot of Bobby leaning forward revealing 'NASH' on the back of his turnout coat. Someone in protective gear stands off to the side, using a shower to pour water over his back. Gif 5: A close-up of Bobby's book where he wrote the names of people he saved. He writes the first name on the list: Guillermo. Gif 6: Bobby stands on the beach at night dressed in uniform, the waves crashing over his feet. Gif 7: Lucy picks up Bobby's captain's helmet off the floor after the ceiling in dispatch collapses. Gif 8: Bobby stands in his kitchen looking down warily at a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He uncaps the bottle and breathes heavily, looking uneasy. /end ID.]

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stark naked.

rating: explicit warnings/tags: p in v smut, clothed male/naked female, rough sex, couch sex, unprotected sex, no dialogue.

You’re bent over the back of the couch, skin bare and flushed and slick with sweat. Every part of you is exposed —tits hanging, thighs shaking, ass high and begging for it— and he hasn’t taken off a single thing.

Shirt clinging to his back, jeans shoved just far enough down to free his cock, boots planted on the floor as he fucks into you like he owns you.

Raw.

Ruthless.

His grip bruises your hips, fingers digging into the flesh like he’s anchoring himself. Like if he doesn’t hold tight, he’ll lose whatever shred of control he has left.

But there’s nothing careful about the way he moves. No rhythm, no tenderness. Just the steady, punishing drive of his cock stretching you open, bottoming out with every snap of his hips.

He’s so deep you can’t breathe right —can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but take it. You’re soaked for him, folds slick and swollen, clenching down every time he hits that brutal spot that makes your knees buckle.

The angle is perfect. Vicious.

Your stomach’s pressed to the couch-rest, breasts bouncing and dragging across the rough fabric with every thrust. Your breath is shaky. You are a mess. Slick dripping down your thighs, knees scuffed from when he fucked you on the floor earlier, throat sore from how hard you moaned the last time he slammed into you just like this.

And he’s still clothed.

There’s something fucking obscene about it— his jeans rubbing your bare skin, the cool drag of his shirt collar brushing your shoulder blades when he leans forward to grind deeper, harder, rougher.

His skin is sweat-damp and hidden, the heat of him bleeding through cotton and denim and leather, everything tight and constraining and hot, like he’s holding back the weight of something even filthier.

But he doesn’t say anything.

He just grunts through his teeth and fucks you harder.

The couch scrapes a little against the carpet. The slap of skin on skin echoes filthy and loud through the room. His cock drives into you, raw and thick, stretching you out with every punishing thrust.

Your whole body tightens, thighs trembling, cunt fluttering around him as you crash into another orgasm with a silent scream. Your back arches, whole body seizing, and he fucks you through it —relentless, steady, giving you no room to come down.

He doesn’t even slow.

Just keeps going, fucking you into the aftershocks like he’s determined to feel every twitch, every clench, every ounce of you breaking apart around him.

His jeans scrape against your ass as he grinds in one last time, cock buried to the hilt, balls tight against your dripping cunt. He groans— low, wrecked, gorgeous— and spills inside you, heat flooding your already-soaked core.

You whimper, legs trembling.

Still bent over.

Still bare.

Still stretched wide around him, dripping with come, your skin still burning against the worn fabric of the couch.

He leans over, breath hot at your ear, cock still buried deep.

Still fully dressed.

requests open ♡

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loved your 'stark naked'!! can you do one where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials, you know, a quickie? pretty please??

everywhere.

rating: explicit warnings/tags: p in v smut, quickie, minimal undressing, urgency, messy, rough, unprotected sex, no dialogue.

He doesn’t even bother undressing you.

Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait. Just crowds you up against the wall, one hand shoved between your thighs, the other yanking at your waistband like he’s seconds from losing it.

You gasp when the cool air hits you —pants pulled down just enough, underwear shoved aside, heat rushing over your skin as he bares exactly what he needs and nothing more.

He’s still dressed, too.

Shirt clinging to his back with sweat, belt unbuckled but jeans barely shoved down past his hips, just low enough to free himself. It makes it messier. Rougher.

You don’t have time to say anything. He’s already got your thigh hitched high around his hip, already rutting forward with the thick press of his cock against your slick slit.

The fabric scratches your skin, his zipper brushing the inside of your thigh as he pushes into you —slow only for the stretch, not for mercy.

You choke on a sound as he sinks in.

Deep. Full. Brutal.

He swears under his breath, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and ragged. And then he’s moving —thrusting hard and fast, no buildup, no restraint. Just the heavy slap of his hips and the wet drag of your body sucking him in.

He shoves your top just enough for him to get a handful of your tits. Your back arching off the wall, arms around his shoulders, fingers clawing into whatever part you can reach. Your cunt tight around him, taking every thrust like it’s the only thing that matters.

You can feel him everywhere —hips slamming into yours, teeth scraping your jaw, cock driving in again and again until your knees start to shake and your breath turns to gasps and curses.

He doesn't slow.

Not when you whimper. Not when you clench. Not even when you cry out and come hard around him, nails digging into his back, legs trembling as you fall apart with your clothes on and your body completely undone.

He follows with a groan, hips stuttering, cock twitching as he comes inside you —deep and rough and perfect.

When he pulls back with a grin, you’re wrecked and grinning back.

Pants twisted around your thighs. Shirt crooked. Thigh wet and messy and shaking.

And you can still feel him everywhere.

thanks for reading!

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piece by piece.

He pressed you into the mattress, his weight all muscle and heat, smothering you under the full force of his body. He felt like everything —strong, urgent, overwhelming. His rough hands gripped your wrists above your head, keeping youin place while he drowned you in sensation, fucking you like you were a part of him he couldn't let go of. Every thrust was deep, relentless, the rhythm pounding into you until your body could no longer keep up with the storm of pleasure.

You gasped, lost in the feel of him, overstimulated to the point of delirium, as if he’d taken every coherent thought from your mind and replaced it with nothing but him. Every inch of you is filled, stretched, overwhelmed with the warmth of him, the constant friction that made your toes curl. You could barely catch your breath as he kept going, his pace unforgiving, the weight of him pressing down so hard it was all you could do to take it.

You are babbling nonsense, your thoughts a muddled blur of his name, of how good it felt, of how he was everything —the thing you needed, the thing you wanted, the only thing that mattered.

Your vision blurred, and then he was there, pushing you to the edge, his own release following so close behind it that you are left in a haze of satisfaction, barely conscious, body trembling beneath him. He filled you in ways you couldn’t even begin to process, your mind unraveling as he held you there, unable to move, unable to think, all that was left was him and the endless, delicious feeling of being taken apart by him, piece by piece.

requests open. divider by @uzmacchiato ♡

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the kook boys you used to date never used to eat you out. not really. 

they only did it because, well, who the fuck is dumb enough to ruin their chances with the baddest bitch in the banks?

but it was short, sloppy, and despite the clit being literally right there — they’d somehow suck, lick, and mouth at anything but the fucking clit.

but here you lay, on your back, with jj’s large hands keeping you spread perfectly.

he was practically making out with your cunt, and had been for at least forty five minutes. and had no intention of stopping thus far.

“jj— shit, please.” you whined, sharp manicured nails scraping along his scalp as you pulled at his blonde locks.

he hummed, tongue swiping up from your hole to your clit, lips wrapping around it and sucking like it was a damn pacifier. your moans and huffs filled the air.

you looked like a fucking dream from where he was sitting.

well, laying.

skirt hiked around your hips, shirt bunched above your tits, nipples pebbled, chest heaving, brows scrunched and lips pouted.

the sight alone had him throbbing in his shorts, hips instinctively rolling to rut against the mattress like a bitch in heat.

but he didn’t stop, not once.

he continued to lick and suck, swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before pushing it into your needy and neglected hole — then repeat.

your face scrunched, feeling the same sensation building in your stomach once again. you honestly didn’t know how many times jj had you cumming on his tongue tonight alone.

sure, he always liked eating you out, but tonight it was like he physically couldn’t stop himself from mouthing and making out with your utterly perfect pussy.

“jayy…” you cried, lifting your head to look down at him. his cheeks were flushed, baby hairs stuck to his forehead, pupils blown to the size of his iris, almost hiding those beautiful baby blues.

and the stupidest grin on his face as he briefly separated from your cunt, juices covering him from his nose to his chin.

you sighed when he pulled away, and you weren’t even sure if it was from relief or disappointment.

“s’okay, mama. ‘taste so fuckin’ good.” he almost whined, pushing his face back into your sticky folds.

your eyes fluttered with a moan as he wrapped his lips around your clit once more and sucked, hand tightening in his hair and tugging him impossibly closer.

the coil was dangerously close to snapping, and your legs closed around his head — tightening like you were trying to crush his head.

he groaned, eyes rolling back with a huff through his nose like he was enjoying this more than you — and that sight alone made you snap.

“fuuuck!!! jay!” you practically screeched, back arching off the bed as you came once again, and he swallowed every fucking drop of your perfectly crafted essence.

he pulled away with a groan, kissing your twitchy clit with something like affection.

“best fuckin’ pussy. paradise on earth.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ — @sarahsangelicdoll @lanasangelsz @abslvrs13

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what the fuck did i just watch.

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Nurse Nightingale

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine that I had a little idea for. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Any feedback is always appreciated. And I am thinking about doing a follow up or two for this one.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars

@teenwolfbitches28 @mandmilovehim @jooniesbears-blog

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Evan's leg gets crushed by the fire truck, no one can calm him down or ease his agony. Except one nurse who has a magic touch, and she happens to be the only person Evan will listen to while in hospital.

Enjoy.

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"We're here! Let's get him out!"

"You're gonna be alright. Just keep those eyes open, okay?"

It was too hard for Bobby to try and force a smile onto his face. The only expression he could muster was a twisted look of anguish that made his lips wobble and pull down at the corners and had him close to tears.

He slid his hand down and tried to grip Evan's hand, but it didn't seem to be the right move when Evan clenched Bobby's hand so tight that he cut off his circulation. His nails punctured into the back of Bobby's hand and the Captain could almost feel the agony rolling from Evan through him in large waves that were all consuming and frightening.

And when Bobby dared to look down a the end of the stretcher, he hated the sight he was met with.

Dramatic chunks of flesh that had been hacked apart and looked like a butcher's dream. A gut-wrenching sight where skin and muscle had been split apart and the bone was visible even to the untrained eye. Bobby could see breaks in the bone and splinters of bone pushing out at odd angles. He could see through the gauze that was moulding into Evan's wound from soaking up all the blood that the strap around his thigh couldn't cut off.

It didn't look good.

Both Eddie and Hen had been doing their best to make him comfortable on the ride down here, but it was hard. They couldn't give him any morphine, not when he was going to need X-rays and scans and an emergency operation. Morphine and anaesthetic didn't always mix well and Evan had a bad track history with medications causing severe reactions.

All they could give him was the gas and air tube to breathe through and although it had done nothing to take the edge off, Evan had been breathing it in since the moment they got him in the ambulance. His teeth had punctured through the plastic tube they were going to have to replace.

"Let's get you inside, you're gonna be just fine." Hen's voice was soothing, but Evan couldn't believe her words.

He didn't feel fine.

He didn't feel as if he was going to be fine or make a swift recovery from this.

He felt like he was going to be put under anaesthetic and wake up with one leg. He could feel each piece of tattered skin desperately trying to cling to his leg. He could feel his leg pulsing and aching from where the blood supply had been cut off mid-way down his thigh. Evan felt like his body was on fire, his leg was disconnected and each breath was becoming harder to take.

When Eddie reached across to try and take the gas and air tube from his grip, a deep growl emmited from Evan's lips and he clenched his hand tight around the tube.

He pulled the strange looking tube back to his lips and inhaled three fast, choked breaths. The tubes were always switched and cleaned out after every use, but Evan had a feeling they would have to bin this one. He had chomped down so hard on the tube that he had left puncture indents in the plastic.

"No! It f-fucking kills-"

"Buck, you can have more pain relief once you're inside, I swear. Please, please we have to move you now." Eddie felt horrible when he had to prize Evan's fingers from the gas and air, he felt like he was taking the only air supply Evan had left like it was going to kill him to part with it.

He hated how desperate Evan was for some sort of relief that they couldn't give him and he hated the cry that choked past Evan's lips the moment Eddie managed to toss the tube to the floor so it was out of reach. But once it was out the way, Eddie swiftly kicked his foot out and clipped off the breaks so they could move him.

Bobby leaned down and took Evan's hand once they all climbed down and were on the move. He held Evan's hand high to his chest as Evan started to thrash around on the gurney.

His chest stuttered up and down and repeatedly pushed back to the point the gurney was shaking and about to unlock and lower down. His free hand curled into a fist and slammed into the metal frame harsh enough to split some of the skin around his knuckles.

He was in agony. He needed it to stop.

"No, pl- no… stop! Help!" A horrible sob broke free from Evan's lips when the gurney wheeled over the threshold into the emergency room. He couldn't get his thoughts in order. The one and only thing that was crystal clear in his mind was that he needed someone to make the pain go away. He needed it to stop. He needed help.

Bobby tightened his hand around Evan's and leaned down so he could talk to him better because he knew Evan was now having a hard time concentrating and taking things in. Who wouldn't in his state?

"We're getting you help Buck, the pain won't last much longer."

"I wa- I want-" Evan broke off into an animalistic howl when the gurney jolted over the threshold of reception and towards the cubicles and the shock sent his leg jerking. Shockwaves rattled up and down his spine and both legs shook as if he had been electrocuted.

He lifted his head and shoulders, doing his best to sit up although he wasn't sure what he was doing, he just wanted to move.

He wanted the pain to stop.

Tears flushed down his face and a broken sob left his lips as all the lights started to blur his vision and he could feel everything turning upside down and making him sway until his head flopped back down on the gurney.

Was he dying? Were his last moments going to be spent in the emergency room, holding onto the one person who had seen him through thick and thin during this job? Was his last moments going to be spent in crippling agony, clinging to Bobby's hand as he wished for everything to stop, for things to have gone differently?

Was Evan going to die at such a young age, with no one to leave behind? He had no family of his own. No partner, no children, no significant others to mourn his loss. He hadn't done enough with his life. He hadn't saved enough people, he hadn't made enough of a difference yet. Evan didn't want to die; his life was still unfinished.

Evan let out another sob while the team paused the gurney in the hallway and Eddie moved to flag someone down. This was a dire emergency, they needed a doctor here now and they needed Evan taken to theatre before he lost his leg.

"Trauma room five!"

That was all the team needed to hear and they made quick work of getting Evan into the room where at least three nurses were hovering around like flies. They seemed desperate to get a look at the wound so they knew exactly what they were going to be treating and which specialist they were going to have to call to sort this out.

Eddie hurried backwards, pulling the gurney along with him while Hen was on the other end pushing it forward and Bobby was beside them. Their Captain had changed tactics from holding Evan's hand to pinning his shoulders down to stop him from either trying to get up or rolling off the gurney. Evan's actions were uncoordinated and erratic, they didn't know what was going through his head or what he was trying to do.

Once the gurney was in place, Eddie's hands moved to his hips and he looked around the team, including Chimney who was stood towards the doors filling the nurses in on their situation.

How were they going to get him onto the bed? They couldn't move him from the gurney without giving him another wave of torture.

"Okay Buck, try and help us out here." Hen seemed to be speaking to herself rather than to Evan because he wasn't listening or paying any attention to her.

He didn't seem to realise that the buckle over his waist that had kept him secure on the gurney had now been unclipped. But he realised the moment Hen and Eddie were stood on either side of him and he felt their hands on his waist that they were about to move him.

"Off! Fuck off!"

A round of 'don't touch me' and 'leave me the fuck alone' spluttered past Evan's bloodied lips, causing everyone in the room to pause. He had been stuttering through the simplest of words since they got him in the ambulance, but now he was riled up he wasn't quieting down. And his expletives had been loud and clear.

He never swore. Evan never swore when the occasion called for it. When his parents mistreated him, when patients blamed him or lashed out at him. When someone started a bar fight with him and swung at him, when someone was rude to him and Christopher when they were out. Evan never swore or lashed out, he let people shout and swear at him without lashing back because he was such a laid back and easy-going person.

For him to be hitting them and swearing at them showed just how much agony he was in and how this torture was hacking away at his mind and making him delirious.

His arms thrashed at his sides and he fought off the hands trying to push him back down on the gurney.

They needed him off the gurney and onto the bed, but Evan wasn't making any of this easy. The more Evan thrashed around, the harder he would make it on his leg and the more pain he was going to give himself. Not to mention moving and disrupting his leg could cause damage to the split blood vessels and torn muscles and the bone that was splintered in multiple places.

The nurses hovering around seemed intent on staying out the way. They could see that it would be easier if Evan's own team transferred him onto the bed, he might not fight quite as much and he might be more comfortable with them than with strangers.

But it was going to be a long night if Evan was going to be fighting this much about being moved a few feet. He was being lined up for a portable X-ray, his leg would be assessed, packed and checked for the kind of surgery he would need. He had to be hooked up to monitors and then they would get him on medication.

Hen and Eddie busied themselves carefully twisting Evan onto his right side so they could place a slip sheet beneath him but once he was rolled onto his back again, his hands were moving. He smacked Eddie in the shoulder with a surprising amount of force before he fisted Bobby's shirt in his hands.

"Make. It. Stop."

"Buck, if you want the pain to stop you have to let us move you." Bobby held his arms while Eddie and Hen pulled the sheet on the count of three.

Evan screamed. His voice crumbled and the sound pierced through the air when he was jostled onto the trauma bed and the gurney was shunned out of the way.

The agony short-circuited his mind and had his thoughts tumbling out of order and sent his blood curdling like sour milk. How long had he been like this? How bad was his leg? Was it going to be amputated, or did they have chance of saving it? How much longer was he going to have to suffer like this?

His senses came back to him in one big hit like the truck had collapsed on him all over again when someone tried to touch his leg. And his left leg- the one that wasn't currently split open- automatically jerked and twitched from the pain that radiated throughout his whole nervous system that had been shot to pieces by now.

He did his best to sit up. He didn't want to be laid down because it was making him feel woozy and sick.

He felt a bit better when someone angled the bed up so he wasn't laid flat on his back. He was barely sitting upright and still felt mostly laid down, but it was better than nothing.

His upper lip curled and he huffed when someone started undoing the buttons on his shirt. What were they doing? Why were they stripping him down? His trouser leg had already been cut off near the bottom of his boxers to expose the full extent of his injuries. He gruffed and groaned when he was leant forward and his shirt was pulled off him completely.

But when cold stickers attached to his chest and wires clipped in place, he started to get uncomfy. The ECG machine beeped to life, showing his erratic heartbeat that was far too fast for his own good. And when a blood pressure cuff was slid onto his arm, Evan reeled his arms to his chest and closed his eyes.

The numbers were too high. He was getting more and more unsettled and he was going to crash if this carried on.

He barely felt the lady tapping the back of his hand and inserting a cannula into his vein.

"Help. Help me." His head angled back until he was imbedding the back of his head into the pillow and his elbows jammed down into the bed, arching his chest and back up off the bed.

"…blood thinners now, and get a dose of morphine ready. Get the leg in place for a quick X-ray, and I want the anaesthesiologist in here now."

A bubbling scream erupted from his lips and his body writhed when his right leg was moved. Their touch was tender and slow but Evan felt like his leg was hanging on by a single thread that was about to snap. He didn't like the foam blocks placed on either side of his leg to get a clear X-ray. He didn't like them moving the wires and straps around his fragmented skin to make the shot clearer.

And he hated the small, portable X-ray that was wheeled over his leg and felt like half of his body was stuck in a tanning machine.

All the surrounding bodies stepped back so pictures could be taken and every time his leg was adjusted, his split knuckles bashed into the bedframe and he screamed. Guttural, horrendous sounds vibrated past his lips and spit foamed around his mouth as his pain was amplified into sound.

Maybe it would be better if they just chopped the leg off. He wouldn't be in agony if they simply knocked him out and took it off. He wouldn't have this pain, this suffering, this agonising wait.

Blood and spit foamed past his lips and Acidic tears stained his already bloodshot cheeks as his chest started to shudder up and down against the bed.

He moved his trembling hands to the ECG wires that felt like they had been superglued to his chest. He ripped them off without a second thought and tried to throw them away. He snagged the cannula from his wrist, not caring that even more blood was leaving his body and was going to drain him dry. He had to make the pain stop or he had to die. Those were the only two viable options Evan could comprehend.

"Mr Buckley calm down. You need to let us help you."

"Buck no don't do that. Stop it!" There was an odd sense of authority in Hen's voice but it fell upon deaf ears.

"Kill me!" His words screamed through the air and had everyone wincing and jerking away from him. They weren't going to do that, but they could understand why he was begging them to end it. The pain was overwhelming and he wanted it to stop. They had to help him. They had to do something now.

But when one of the doctors grabbed Evan's wrist and shoulder and tried to pin him to the bed, all Hell broke loose. A deafening roar left Evan's lips, his body jerked up from the bed and he thrust his bloodied hand into the doctor's jaw.

The doctor stumbled back, knocking into the ECG machine before Eddie grabbed him, saving him from a harsh landing on the floor. Both his hands moved to cradle his jaw that had almost clicked out of place and spots danced before his eyes as he leaned into Eddie until his sights and senses came back to him.

He coughed into his hands, anger and resentment in his eyes before he looked around the room.

"Where the Hell is (Y/n)? She can handle trauma patients like him."

It was clear the team wanted to bite back and respond that Evan would be a model patient under any other circumstance. He wasn't naturally like this, these were exceptional circumstances with horrible agonising pain that he couldn't deal with.

But before the team could respond, the doctor was leaving the room with a hand cradling his bruised jaw.

He stormed through the emergency room, peeking into each room and cubicle he passed and he looked towards the nurse's station before his eyes finally set on the one person he knew could handle the trauma that was Mr Buckley.

"(Y/n)!"

Turning on her heels, (Y/n) looked around for the familiar voice of Logan, one of the doctors she didn't have much dealings with since he tended to stay out of the emergency room if he could help it.

When she locked eyes with him, her jaw went slack and she wasn't sure whether to smile or panic. Someone had punched him. He had blood smeared onto his jaw and mouth which was starting to swell and the veins in his neck were popping out in fury.

"Logan, what happened?" She set down the paperwork in her hand and headed towards him, but confusion was swarming her head.

Why was he asking for her? If he was hurt she wasn't exactly the first nurse he would go to.

"Trauma bay five. He's all yours."

A deep sigh left (Y/n)'s lips and her shoulders slacked. Great. She was being handed a patient that Logan clearly couldn't handle. She always got those cases. The drunks, the frightened patients, the ones who needed a psyche exam, they were all the patients who nobody else wanted to deal with and (Y/n) was left to calm them down.

She would admit she had a way with most of the patients, she seemed to have an aura they could associate with and she was a calming presence, but that didn't mean she always had to be the one to look after the patients.

She pointed her finger at Logan as she went to walk past him. "You're lucky I'm free; you owe me."

It was pure luck that she didn't already have a patient to care for, she was free at this moment and her break could be postponed to help a soul in need. But Logan was going to owe her for this. If she needed a shift swap he was going to have to pay up and agree no matter what day it was.

Her hand moved to her temple and she tried to rub away the migraine as she headed to room five. Not that she really needed the room number, the screams and havoc were leaking out into the hall and it was clear which room had the troubled patient.

Bobby dragged his hand through his hair and twisted to look at the doorway while Hen and Eddie moved over to Evan. Hen busied herself holding Evan's hips down to the bed while Eddie grabbed his wrists, bracing one knee on the side of the bed so he could lean over Evan and pin him down as he struggled.

A round of "No!" and "Fuck off!" was spat at them, but neither of them listened.

"This is for your own good, if you want that leg then stop fighting us."

The remaining doctor and nurses looked at the X-ray images, conferring together in the corner of the room about the damage to the bone. They were all in agreement. They could save the leg if the blood vessels could be repaired and the nerves were in tact, and judging by the way his leg jerked and reacted to stimulant, he had a chance.

"Give me your hand for the IV." Hen turned around with a huff and pinned the right side of her chest and hip down into Evan's abdomen to try and keep him still and in place.

She tried to take his hand when Eddie let go of his wrist, but she couldn't get a good grasp when Evan started throwing his arm out at her. He wasn't opposed to elbowing, hitting and punching his colleagues if they were going to continue pinning him to the bed like this.

They were lucky he hadn't been restrained to the bed already for punching a doctor. Bobby was going to have to have a few conversations and do some pleading to make sure the doctor didn't sue or try and cause problems for Evan after this. But the doctor hadn't seemed vengeful, he seemed to understand that Evan was acting out of trauma and the worst agony of his life.

With a deep breath and a new pair of gloves snapped onto her hands, (Y/n) walked into the room. She took a moment to look at the chart and the name of the person she needed to assess and help before she weaved around who she presumed were his colleagues with how frantically concerned they were for him and how they hadn't left his side yet.

"Alright mister Buckley, if you want that surgery you're going to need some help. Will you let me help you?"

(Y/n)'s voice broke through the air and caused the few people around her to step back as if she were a Goddess walking amongst them. Her hands settled on the bedframe and she pushed up on her toes so she was leaning close to the patient. Not enough to overpower or frighten him, but enough so he could see her face and see that she was a helping hand, not someone here to hurt him and cause him further agony.

He finally stopped writhing and lashing out at those trying to keep him stable on the bed and he cracked his eyes open just enough to see (Y/n) through the halo of light that surrounded her.

The meek mumbling of "Help," was all Evan could spit out and it was all (Y/n) needed to smile and rest a hand on his forearm.

He looked worse than she expected. His leg was split apart with torn muscles and ligaments breaking free and a broken bone that had fractured into smaller broken pieces that were going to be Hell to put back together again. He looked like a fragmented puzzle and if all the pieces weren't there, they might not be able to make something else fit in their place.

"Alright then, let's get you back to normal."

Her voice was so soft, so lulling that Evan let his eyes fall closed and he gave in to the shaking in his system. He was vibrating as he writhed and trembled from side to side, but he was a lot less volatile now that he wasn't fighting and hitting at everyone around him.

She could feel how flushed he was as she pressed the back of her gloved hand against his temple, and he smelt of smoke and dirt and burnt rubber. An odd combination for the emergency room.

"Has he had any morphine?" (Y/n) looked up while she carefully took Evan's left hand in hers and started to clean the blood so she could see where the cannula had been before he clearly ripped it free from his vein.

"Not yet."

"No wonder he's fighting you." Her words were quiet because she wasn't chiding anyone, but it was clear he was fighting because of the untold pain he was in. His leg was torn in half and they expected him not to put up a fight when each little movement felt like they were sawing him apart.

She expertly slid the cannula back into his hand and when the nurse opposite her handed over some tape, (Y/n) taped it in place before she laid his hand back down on his chest.

"I won't disrespect you by asking how bad the pain is. Let's assume it's one hundred and give two doses of morphine, how does that sound?"

(Y/n) was as gentle as she could be when she lifted Evan's eyelids and shone a light across his pupils that were already constricted, but they were still adjusting well to light. She wouldn't be so rude as to ask how much pain he was in because it was clear he was at the top of the pain scale. He needed morphine now and then he would need anaesthetic and they could get him to surgery.

"Please." Was the only word Evan could fathom and before he could stop himself, he reached his shaking hand up and clamped it down around (Y/n)'s arm.

She paused briefly, unsure whether he was going to ask for something else or if he was just seeking reassurance or if indeed he might lash out at her and tell her to leave him alone too. But his grip tightened on her arm and he pulled her closer. He wanted help. She was helping him. She was being kind to him. He needed her assistance.

Once the nurse opposite (Y/n) had given Evan two doses of morphine, (Y/n) began to attach the monitoring stickers back to his chest and she kept an eye on his heartbeat.

"How are his nerves?"

(Y/n) couldn't stop herself from smiling when she heard Evan mutter "They're broken," through gritted teeth. So he still had some sense of humour left within him even in his state.

"Oh, I don't think so. Let us check for nerve response, and then we can get you anaesthatised and up to surgery. Okay?"

He nodded but still kept tight hold over (Y/n)'s arm which meant she had to twist and press her left hip into the bed frame so she could look towards his legs.

Her free hand moved down to his leg where the plastic strap was cutting tightly into his thigh to cut off the blood supply and she carefully pressed her hand down to keep his leg firmly in place.

"Try and hold still, I promise this won't take long." She murmured softly and squeezed his arm despite the little movement she had left in her hand that was going numb from his grip on her forearm.

(Y/n) watched carefully, along with the other people crowding into the room as the doctor began testing for nerve responses. He poked a small pin into various nerve points around Evan's leg, avoiding the tattered and broken skin but checking all around.

Each time the needle prodded his skin, Evan's leg twitched and he groaned. Spit froffed at his mouth and his head and shoulders pressed down into the bed, but he tried to steel himself and hold still. When a particular nerve sent his leg jolting, Evan snapped his eyes closed and let go of the nurse's arm in favour of grabbing her hand. He squeezed so tightly he felt her arm jerk and he was sure he had hurt her, but he couldn't find it within himself to let go.

He needed something to ground him, and right now, (Y/n) was that sense of gravity.

"Nerves are still in tact, and blood vessels look like they can be repaired. We have to move quickly. Get the anaesthesiologist in here now."

He needed to go straight to an operating room so they could start patching him up. If they didn't move quickly the blood vessels might not be repairable, hi leg couldn't survive much longer with no blood supply.

"Let's get you settled, hm?" (Y/n)'s voice was so lulling that Evan hummed and agreed but he had no idea what she was talking about.

He kept his eyes closed but he wouldn't let go of her hand, so it had to be the other nurse who got some medicine injected into his IV to settle his heartbeat. And she also prepared something for his blood pressure to get it lowered ready for surgery to take place.

"We can prep you now." (Y/n) ran her free hand up and down his arm from his wrist to his elbow and she squeezed his hand while the doctor asked his colleagues to leave the room.

Each of them leaned over to either squeeze his shoulder or whisper something in his ear, telling him they would be right here when he came out of surgery and that he would be just fine. Exactly what he needed to hear to keep him calm and settled.

He stayed compliant, but he did surprise all of them left in the room by coiling (Y/n)'s arm to his chest. He took deep wheezing breaths as he bound her arm against his bare, burning chest and clutched at her forearm with his free hand.

The anaesthesiologist checked Evan's chart while his leg was shifted and kept in place and the bed was lowered so he was flat on his back again.

"Okay Mr Buckley, once this is in your system, we'll get this mask on you and I'll need you to start counting for me. Don't worry, when you wake up your leg will be as good as new." The newest doctor seemed calm and attentive with a charming smile that Evan couldn't see as his eyes were tightly closed and he was clinging to (Y/n) like she was his lifeline that he couldn't bear to lose.

The doctor fiddled with the medicine trolley and once a large dose was in Evan's system to work with the anaesthesia, he found the mask and got the tank turned on.

Evan whimpered again, trying his best to wriggle and twist away, but he was far more compliant now and he was starting to become drowsy. He couldn't fight them even if he wanted to.

A quiet "Let me," passed (Y/n)'s lips as she took the mask and gently held it over Evan's mouth and nose while the doctor asked him to start counting.

He didn't count like he had been asked, but he tried to mutter something which was as good as.

The shaking started to subside the more anaesthesia he inhaled until he was loosening his grip on (Y/n)'s hand and arm which would no doubt be bruised come morning. He began to drift into a calm, delirious state with the last thing he heard being that nurse's sweet lulling voice flooding his ears.

"You're gonna be okay."

***

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s skin when she felt a pair of hands clasping around her shoulders, pulling her onto her back foot with some enthusiasm.

Her head twisted to the left and she stepped away from the room he was just about to head into. Amy. One of the other nurses working on ward B today. She was holding onto (Y/n) with a bright smile and before she even spoke, she twisted (Y/n) away from the patient room she was about to enter and turned her to face the nurse's station instead.

"If this is your way of asking for a break, I can't. I have to change the dressings on Mrs Mitchell." (Y/n) pointed to the room she had been trying to enter and she smiled brightly as Amy finally let go of her shoulders.

If she wanted (Y/n) to take a break with her she was going to be let down. (Y/n) had patients to tend to and so did Amy, they would have to wait until lunch to have their next break.

Her arms folded over her chest and she waited while Amy's smile changed to that cheeky look with a glimmer of hope and pleading in her eyes that made (Y/n) narrow her eyes in curiosity.

"Actually, you have another patient who needs you more. Room eight."

For a moment, (Y/n) just stared at her friend who was no longer smiling and was now fully pleading with her for a patient swap. It wasn't as if they all had to care for the same patient every day, they were changed onto different wards and sent to the emergency room or the CT scans, they drifted everywhere in the hospital. But there weren't many times when anyone asked for a swap.

(Y/n) leaned around Amy and looked at the whiteboard on the far wall until she saw whose name was written down for room eight.

"Why?" Her arms folded over her chest and her head angled to one side as she waited for Amy to explain.

It was Mr Buckley in room eight. He wasn't a bad patient, he wasn't a fighter- only that one time two days ago in the emergency room when he was brought in. He didn't shout or swear anymore and he hadn't been rude or offended anyone. He was simply adjusting to a big set back in his life, a fireman with a severely broken leg wasn't going to be a happy patient.

"He's refusing any help, come on (Y/n) please? You got him under control in the emergency room, he might listen to you."

A quiet "Fine," tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and her arms dropped from her chest as Amy grinned and hugged her.

"Thank you."

She didn't see why he was such a bad patient. He just needed people to be patient with him and talk to him. He needed people to understand where he was coming from and how life changing this was, he was in extreme pain and they were expecting him to be the model patient and not be upset or gruff or angry or rude.

When she entered the room, she quietly closed the door behind her and took a look at the notes. He was going to be signed up for physio next week, as they were expecting him to be in here for a little while before they could think about sending him home.

He hadn't gotten out of bed yet. They would need to get him up and mobile on his crutches because the sooner he was stable on his crutches, the sooner he could start his recovery. The pins in his legs were holding the bone together and as long as he kept his weight mostly on his good leg, he could walk around on crutches without any problems.

"Hi there," (Y/n) spoke softly when she noticed he had finally opened his eyes to see who was here.

He was sat up in bed, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted to one side like he was about to topple out of bed. His right leg was held up in a sling to make him more comfortable, but he didn't seem too happy about that either.

At least he wasn't glaring or sneering at (Y/n). When he looked at her, his expression stayed mostly blank, but he didn't look unsettled or unhappy and (Y/n) counted that as a win.

"Alright Mr Buckley, are we getting up today?" (Y/n) rounded the bed and stood at his side with her hands on her hips and that same smile that Evan could see when he thought back to the pain that brought him here.

But her smile wasn't enough to lighten Evan's mood.

"No."

He couldn't find it in himself to turn his head away from her, but he adverted his eyes down to look at his hands. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to fall on the floor or heave himself around or resort to crawling if he couldn't hold his weight up with a bum leg. Staying put and becoming a hermit seemed the easier option. At least until the team or Maddie came to visit and he was forced to sit up or move around.

But he couldn't stop sneaking a few glances at the nurse stood at his side. She was determined, he would give her that, and she didn't seem unhappy. The few times Evan had seen her since he had been here, she had always smiled in such a way that made his stomach turn to mush.

She was kind, she didn't get angry with him when he had shouted and screamed in the emergency room. She didn't tell him to stop or calm down, she didn't diminish the pain he had been in and she had understood his trauma.

Evan wouldn't give the other nurses the time of day. He wouldn't have them trying to drag him out of bed, he wouldn't listen when they told him to stop pouting or when they asked why he was so upset, as if they couldn't see the problem.

"And why not?"

Leaning forward, (Y/n) folded her arms on the plastic bedframe and arched her lower back out while she smiled across at him.

With how desperate he seemed to be to want to leave, she thought he would have been up moving about without help. (Y/n) thought he would be falling over, grabbing a walker, throwing his crutches and doing everything possible to try and get out of this bed and speed up his recovery. She hadn't expected him to be in a slump like this.

"Look at me." A grimace flooded Evan's face as he motioned to his leg.

He hated to look down at his leg and see that horrible plaster cast that went from the middle of his thigh right down to his foot. Only the very upper portion of his thigh and his toes were visible, the rest of his leg was in a cast. He couldn't itch his leg, he couldn't move his knee which was slightly bent to make it easier to move around in this stupid cast.

But when he looked up at (Y/n), he was surprised to see a grin on her face and see how she was biting down on her lower lip.

"I'm looking, and I see a big strong fireman perfectly capable to stand up if he accepts some help. Will you let me help you up please?"

As soon as her words registered in his ears he found himself looking her up and down. He was taller than her, he probably weighed two of her with all the training he had done this last year- training that he couldn't keep up until his leg was healed. He would overpower her if he was unbalanced and he would end up knocking them both to the floor and he could hurt her.

But the way she was smiling at him was making Evan's grimace disappear no matter how desperate he was to keep it plastered across his face.

He could feel his heartbeat increasing the longer she looked at him and he was relieved he was no longer on an ECG or she might have thought there was something wrong with him.

She was looking at him like the world wasn't ending when she knew it was. She knew what Evan did for a living and she must realise that a fireman with a bum leg wasn't going to be able to do his job. How could he do his job if he couldn't run? If he couldn't hurry in an emergency or carry someone on his shoulders or lift a heavy weight that was crushing someone or blocking an exit.

There was so much Evan wouldn't be able to do if his leg didn't gain back the strength he had before. If these pins didn't hold his bone in place and he lost his leg then he would lose everything.

But here was (Y/n), looking at Evan like he was the strongest, most mesmerising person she had ever seen. She looked at him like she couldn't see the cast on his leg and thought he could just get up and walk like he used to. She had faith in him that Evan didn't feel for himself.

"I think we can get you up."

Evan felt like he was turning to jelly and he watched, dumbfounded as she started to help him like this was their routine that they did every day.

His wide eyes focused on her as she carefully eased his cast from the sling elevating it from the bed. She didn't seem put out or weighed down when she manoeuvred his leg down onto the bed.

And Evan couldn't help but gasp when she took his hands. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing her hands even though he had no idea what she was trying to do. His parted lips began to blush while he let her move his hands to her shoulders so she could reach out for his legs and carefully swing them around over the edge of the bed. Now he was sitting up on the side of the bed and (Y/n) had moved herself in between his legs.

If this were a different situation, if he weren't crippled in hospital like this, he might have done something rash. He might have moved his hands from her shoulders to her waist. He might have pulled her closer or tried his luck with kissing her.

His hands squeezed her shoulders while he felt (Y/n)'s hands move to grip his underarms like she was bracing herself to take some of his weight. And he found himself letting out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

"I'll hurt you, I can't lean on you." He shook his head as he looked her up and down and sank his teeth into his lower lip harsh enough to draw a spot of blood.

He didn't want to lean his weight onto her and push her down. Evan was heavy, he knew that and he knew that the height difference wasn't going to do them any favours. Besides, he didn't want to get up. He wanted to sit and wallow in his misery and dwell on how his life was going to change. He didn't like change, whether it was permanent or temporary, and this definitely felt permanent to him.

He almost jumped when he felt (Y/n) squeezing his arms and the way her head tilted to one side and subsequently leaned closer to him made Evan's breath catch in his throat.

"Neither of us are fragile, once you're up we'll get a crutch under your arm. Trust me, you won't hurt me and I won't let you fall."

He trusted her.

He wasn't quite sure why, he hardly knew her and he had more reason to wait for Eddie or Bobby to visit and see if they would help him up rather than depending on a nurse he could potentially hurt. But for some odd reason, Evan felt comfortable with her and he felt like he could trust her enough to save him from a harsh fall, in any aspect of the word.

Evan let go of her shoulder with his right hand to press his palm into the bed, he needed some support to push himself up. But his left hand stayed tight on her shoulder and he inched closer until he was sat on the very edge of the bed.

The contemplation must have been clear on his face because (Y/n) squeezed his arm and coached him. "Weight on your left foot, once we get you up just bend your right leg until only your toes are touching the floor. And don't be afraid to lean on me, that's what I'm here for."

He didn't quite believe that last part, but Evan found himself nodding along as he tried to push forward.

He wouldn't have been able to do this without her holding onto him. She was stood in front of him like a railing preventing him from falling into deep waters. He was leaning on her without realising it, without wanting to and he wobbled to the left until (Y/n) leaned with him and straightened him up.

She kept tight hold of his arms and levelled him out while he scraped his right leg back and pressed his toes into the floor. It was hard to balance on one leg, this was something Evan hadn't done for a long time, not even in training did he try and stand or balance or move on one leg. But having (Y/n) in front of him like a guard rail was really helping; she was keeping him up.

"Are you okay, does your leg feel alright?"

"Stings like a bitch, but that's normal."

For once in what felt like a lifetime, Evan managed a smile that he knew was the first smile since this gut-wrenching accident happened.

He was standing up. Even if he didn't particularly want to be up and moving about and he wanted to be wallowing in his self-pity, he was up now and he was going to start making progress as of now.

"Okay, try and hold still for a second…" Reaching her arm out, (Y/n) balanced Evan with one hand and stretched out to grab one of the crutches propped up beside the bedside table.

A soft "Here we go," passed her lips as she pressed the crutch up under Evan's right arm, but she tilted her head back to stare up at him when he didn't let go of her. He wouldn't look away from her. He was looking at her with those wide eyes and parted lips as soft breaths mingled with hers. She couldn't find the will to say anything, she simply kept hold of him and kept the crutch in place, waiting patiently for Evan to make the next move.

It took Evan at least a minute to unhook his hand from (Y/n)'s shoulder and hold onto the crutch instead.

And once he was leaning on that one crutch, (Y/n) held onto the second one and propped it beneath his other arm, but he seemed very reluctant to let her go this time.

"I've still got you." (Y/n) spoke before she could think better of it and she squeezed both hands on his biceps to show that even if he let go of her, she wasn't going to let go of him. She would wait until he was properly supported on his own feet.

She wasn't going to let him fall.

Evan really didn't want to let go, but he forced his trembling hand to unlatch from her shoulder and hold onto both crutches. It was a lot harder than he thought to stay balanced on one leg. He found himself wavering forwards towards (Y/n) until she slid her hands down and quickly held onto his torso instead.

A quiet laugh left her lips which sounded like music to Evan's ears and he looked down as she squeezed his waist and looked down.

"I think we might need to do some core exercises, but you'll get there."

"Thank you." Evan was starting to feel better already when (Y/n) looked up at him with that beautiful, beaming smile. "You're a real nurse Nightingale, aren't you?"

"I have my moments." When she tilted her head back, (Y/n) found herself lost in those deep blue eyes that captured her full attention. She couldn't seem to look anywhere else and her stomach tightened when Evan continued to smile at her.

She would never have thought such a simple gesture as helping him up would have made him so grateful or that he would be smiling at her like this. She could have gotten lost in those eyes forever and the way they creased and zoomed in on her made her hold her breath in anticipation.

"I'll do those exercises, if you're the one to train me."

[strnqer]

Oliver Stark for nineteen92 magazine (click for bigger gif)

[strnqer]

I think what’s particularly interesting about the “competition” scene is that, at first, Tommy assumed Buck knew exactly who and what he was talking about. He only started to backtrack when Buck got confused and asked him what he meant - it seems like Tommy had an “oh shit” moment there and realised he’d revealed something Buck wasn’t aware of. But Tommy thought he was.

And I haven’t seen too many people talk about the line “Come on don’t make me say it.” Tommy thought Buck’s feelings for Eddie were so obvious that he shouldn’t even have to put it into words.

I think it’s just very interesting how the writers decided to frame this scene. To have Buck’s ex-boyfriend, who spent a LOT of time with Buck and Eddie, clearly believe that there is something going on between Buck and Eddie that is so glaringly obvious it shouldn’t even need to be said.

And that’s the way it’s framed for the audience as well. Even to GA members who might not be initially aware of the Buddie of it all, as soon as Tommy says “don’t make me say it” you are supposed to immediately know who he’s talking about the way that Buck does.

[strnqer]

People: You can’t baby trap someone if you can’t actually have their baby.

Eddie Diaz: Well, not with that attitude

[strnqer]

seeing people on twitter call buck “clifford the big red bisexual” and remembering clifford only grew so big because he was loved so hugely and unconditionally by emily elizabeth. and thinking about twinky lonely season one buck who’d just joined the 118. versus big beautiful beefcake season 8 buck after nearly a decade with bobby, hen, and chim, with his sister, with eddie and chris. so yeah, clifford the big red bisexual growing and growing and growing because their love for him is so damn big.

[strnqer]

“leaving notes in obscure places for your lover to find”. Theoretically this would be cute for buck but he’s so stupid tall that the stuff he hides is wayyyyyy above my eyeline and the stuff I’ll hide is wayyyy below his to ever find it 🫙

lol this is so funny i love this. lowkey made me🥺 by the end. anyway<333

“leaving notes in obscure places for your lover to find” from this post

buck had been waiting for you at your favourite restaurant for almost 30 minutes, anxiously checking his phone every minute or two to see if you had texted him and he somehow hadn’t felt it vibrate. each time, nothing.

he had left you a note this morning telling you to meet him here at 7, so where the hell where you? sometimes you’re a few minutes late, but 30 minutes late has a pit forming in his stomach; his mind coming up with worst case scenarios. he can see that you’re still at home, as you have your locations shared with each other, but that doesn’t mean nothing bad has happened.

you’re relaxing on the couch in your pyjamas when he finally calls you, and when he hears you pick up the phone, he’s met with a “where are you?”

“where am i? where are you?” he asks, his brows furrowing in confusion as he leans back on his chair and crosses an arm over his chest. he’s not angry, but he can’t help but be a little upset that you’re not here.

“i’m at home. are you out for dinner with someone from the station? you better bring me home some dessert,” you reply, pausing your show when you hear the slight exasperation in his voice. you had checked his location earlier, and when you saw that he was at your favourite restaurant, you couldn’t help but pout a little.

“i was supposed to be here with someone. looks like she stood me up,” he mutters, a little upset that you forgot about his surprise date. he thought you’d love it.

“who?” you ask, your own brows furrowing now. you don’t know any people at the 118 that would do that.

“you,” he says after a moment, realizing that you have no idea what he’s talking about. the word almost comes out as a question as he sits up straight in his chair. “i left you a note.”

when he hears you swear that he didn’t, he’s even more confused. he’s been leaving little notes for you for months, how could you not see this one?

“it’s where they usually are. top corner of the bathroom mirror,” he tells you, and he hears you scoff with a soft laugh, then stand up and pad over to the bathroom.

he hears the soft gasp leave your lips, and then you laugh louder.

“how many have you left there?” you ask. you’ve never seen any notes where he seems to put them. they’re way at the top of the mirror; far enough out of your eyesight that you’ve never even thought to look up there. especially because you put a note on the mirror for buck everyday, too, but on the bottom corner.

“i’ve been putting them there for months. ever since we saw that movie where the couple did the same thing and you said you liked it,” he says while slipping his wallet out of his pocket and placing some money on the table. he knows you won’t be coming now, so he might as well go home to you.

“no, i’ve been putting them up for months. in the bottom corner,” you say with a giggle, standing up on your toes to grab the little post-it note and studying his sloppy handwriting.

“you have?” he asks, feeling his heart warm at the idea of you doing the same thing for him. he’s in the car now, and all he wants is to get home and wrap you in his arms.

“i guess our eye-lines aren’t the same,” you say with a laugh. you go back to the couch with the note in your hand, and when you sit down, you let your finger move over the ink of the little heart he added with a smile on your face.

“yeah, i guess so. i’ll be home in 10, and we’ll figure out where to put notes we’ll both see,” he says with a chuckle, and you agree, smiling to yourself.

“i love you,” you say softly into the phone.

“i love you, baby. see you soon.”

[strnqer]

"straddling your lover’s thighs" with Buck

Because oh my god 🥵

YESYESYESYES OKAY. trying hard not to make this nsfw. anyway<3

“straddling your lover’s thighs” from this post

“hold still i’m almost done!” you say with a giggle, watching buck’s nose twitch and his head shake slightly as you apply a face mask to his skin.

when you told him that you were having an “everything shower,” complete with a face mask at the end, buck had no idea what you were talking about. once you told him, he said that he wanted a spa day too, so after you both shower, you pull him to the couch to apply his face mask while your own dries.

you’re straddling his lap; comfortably sitting on him while his hands hold your thick thighs firmly, keeping you in place. when he insisted on doing a face mask with you, he didn’t think you’d end up on his lap, but he wasn’t about to start complaining.

“it’s burning!” he tells you, although he makes no move to get up. he enjoys having your weight on him, and your skin under his fingertips, and even if it is burning, just a little, he doesn’t really want to get up.

“it’s supposed to feel a little hot! you’re being a baby,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. all he does is huff and roll his eyes, and then he finally settles down as you finish applying the face mask. he slowly moves his hands up and down your thighs while his eyes trace every detail of your face that he can see under your own light green mask. the flecks of colour in your eyes, the way your brows furrow in concentration, and the way you hold your breath when you get close to his eyes and lips.

“okay, done.” you say after a minute or two, pulling away from him and getting ready to stand up.

he immediately hums in discontent, and his grip on your thighs tightens to hold you in place.

“don’t these have to stay on for a while?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a smirk.

“yeah, but mine’s almost done.” you say, a smile coming onto your face as you see the playful glint in his eyes.

“just a few more minutes?” he asks with a pout, and all you can do is roll your eyes and laugh before leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss. he happily returns it, and it’s only when his hands move up to your hips and try to move you against him that you have to pull back with a teasing glare.

“i thought you only said a few more minutes?” you ask with a raised brow, smirking. he laughs, shrugging as he squeezes your hips.

“it was worth a shot.”

[strnqer]

18+ MNDI

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who moans as soon as he enters you. (if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve came on the spot)

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who buries his head between you neck and kisses it desperately as he begins to rutt into you

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who licks the tears from your cheeks as they come streaming down

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who’s praises sound like prayers as he whimpers them out between kisses

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who comes so fast and so hard he starts crying even more than he was before (he just can’t believe how much he loves you!!)

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who can’t stop now matter how much you beg him to…

“can’t stop ‘m so sorry baby -ah- can’t stop”

VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who collapses ontop of you after he came god knows how many times. poor baby is so overwhelmed, muttering how much he loves you and begging you not to leave him

[strnqer]

bro i’ll give him a kid pmoooooo 🙏🙏😭

can‘t help but notice how buck is somehow always involved in rescuing the babies and small children on calls and how he smiles so freaking big after

give that man a baby right fucking now

[strnqer]

brown eyed princess bambi