#feelings confession

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[ladykissingfish]

can you do sasodei with jealous Deidara or jealous Sasori? 👀

Hidan: Hey, puppet-dick … you worried?

Sasori: Worried? Over what?

Hidan: Over blondie goin’ to see his girlfriend, that’s what!

Sasori: *chuckles* Nice try, brat, but she is not his girlfriend. Kurotsuchi is just an old friend of Dei’s, that’s all.

Hidan: You’ve got a stone cold heart, man. If it was me I’d be fucking freaking out if Kakuzu was just suddenly goin’ to see some chick he used to bang!

Sasori: … used to bang? But … but Deidara was never with anyone like that before he met me. R-right?

Hidan: Maybe “bang” is over exaggerating. But you know what isn’t? *lowers his voice* When they were kids, blondie told me they used to kiss all the time!

Sasori: Kiss? Really?

Hidan: Yeah. *puckers his lips and makes obnoxious kissing gestures* I saw her picture, she’s pretty damn hot. Makes ya wonder what they’re doin’ now, eh?

Sasori: Nothing. They’re doing nothing besides having lunch and catching up with each other. He … he would never do anything like … like what you’re implying.

Hidan: He might not want to, but blondie is fuckin’ young, and he’s always horny like a dog. Who knows what that little worm in his pants might lead him to do? He —

Kakuzu, coming into the room: Hidan. Enough. Get out of here, go bother somebody else.

*Hidan leaves*

Kakuzu: You needn’t pay any attention to him, Sasori. You know he only lives to antagonize others. You haven’t a thing to worry about regarding Deidara. His level of attachment to you is such that the rest of us find his devotion concerning.

Sasori: I … I know. You’re right, I have nothing to worry about. Er, please excuse me, I have some puppets I’m working on … *walks away*

*later that night*

Deidara: ‘Sori! I’m back, hm!

Sasori, back turned, tweaking a puppet arm: Welcome back. How was your afternoon with your friend?

Deidara: *sinks down into a chair* Exhausting, really. I’m worn out, but I had a great time!

Sasori: Y-you’re exhausted? Why would you be exhausted?

Deidara: Let’s just say there was something I had to show Kuro, and once I started she couldn’t get enough, hm. 

Sasori:

Sasori: *slowly turns to face Deidara*

Sasori: Dei. You and I have never had this talk before, but it seems it’s time to. I … am not someone who shares. I have never once put any demands on you, made any requests regarding this … this situation between us, but I feel I must make one now. You and I belong to each other. There is no room for anyone else in that same capacity. Friends, yes. Teammates, yes. But outside lovers? NO. It’s where I put my foot down. I love you, and when you truly love someone, you don’t —

Deidara, eyes wide: D-did you just say … that you love me?

Sasori, eyes also wide: Y-yes. Yes, I did. Because I do. I love you more than anything, Deidara. I —

Deidara: *rushes to Sasori and throws both arms around him, hard, nearly knocking him over* I love you too, Sasori!! I never thought you’d actually SAY that! *starts to cry*

Sasori: *pats his back* There, there, calm yourself. *raises Deidara’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, and pulls him into a kiss* No tears, but please, promise me you won’t … you won’t seek out the romantic company of that girl anymore. 

Deidara: *starts to laugh* Kuro?! What, do you think I did something with Kurotsuchi??

Sasori: Well, you said you were exhausted, so —

Deidara: Yes, you idiot! *holds up his phone* I have over one thousand pictures of you, and of us together. Kuro kept asking to hear the stories behind them. *rubs his face* My jaw feels like it’s gonna fall off from talking about you so much, hm!

Sasori: *chuckles* How painful for you. *starts kissing along his jaw* Perhaps you’d allow me to put you in my bed and take your discomfort away?

Deidara: Oooh, I’d really like that, Danna ~

Sasori: *lifts Deidara off his feet and carries him across the room before gently laying him in the bed*

Sasori: Right; I’ll just run to the kitchen and make you up some tea to take some painkillers in. Be back in a flash! *leaves, whistling*

Deidara:

[biboybuckley]

crashing, i’m crashing right into you

Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz | 6.7k | teen and up audiences | read on ao3 | sequel

Buck gets an unfortunate call while driving and spirals before getting hit by a drunk driver. Surprise, coma!buck is real and can hear the things people (Eddie and Maddie) say while he's unconscious. Follows the struggles Buck deals with while trying to come back and the ones he has to face if he does.

6.07 spec, so the sperm donor issue is a Thing.

(inspired by this post)

-

Buck planned on telling Eddie. Really, he did.  He was sitting in front of Conner and Kameron and hoping his smile looked real and thinking what am I gonna tell Eddie? And then he was at the station a few days later and Hen was watching him and Eddie was venting about Chris and it became more about how can he possibly tell this to Eddie?

How can Buck tell Eddie- Eddie, who still has guilt over leaving Chris when he was born- Eddie, who is the best father Buck thinks he’s ever met- Eddie, who will see right through Buck the moment he opens his mouth- how can he tell him what he’s agreed to? That he’s going to be a father who walks away. That he knows it’s going to kill him, but he’s doing it anyway because he can’t say no. That once again, he’s whittling his worth down to a mere collection of parts. 

He can’t, is the conclusion he comes to. He can’t tell Eddie. Not yet, at least. Once… once the deed is done, then he’ll come clean. He’ll tell Eddie everything and he’ll close himself off to the pain because what’s done will be done and neither of them can change it. He’ll tell Eddie once it’s too late to back out, because Eddie is the one person that could give him that choice. 

So Buck keeps it to himself. He pulls Hen aside during their shift and begs her not to say anything to anyone and she looks at him with those devastatingly caring eyes and touches his arm gently and asks, “Are you sure?” And Buck swallows his tears, puts on a smile, and nods. And Hen lets him go. He goes straight to the bathroom and throws up. 

It’s an excruciating two weeks until his doctor’s appointment. He barely speaks to the team. Hen’s giving him space, the only one who knows what he’s dealing with. Chim has seemingly picked up on her behavior and hasn’t pressed Buck. Bobby called him into his office a couple times, asking if he’s alright. 

Buck’s been smiling and saying, “Fine, Cap. Just something I’m trying to figure out.” And Bobby’s been giving him a look like he knows something, smiling a little, and telling Buck he’s proud of him. Which… okay, it’s nice to hear, but Buck’s got no idea what he’s referring to. He even asked Hen if she told Bobby anything and she swore she hadn’t. Buck shrugged it off.

The main issue has been Eddie. Once everything blew over with Chris, it became increasingly hard to keep this from Eddie. Eddie… he sees Buck, sees right through him. No- not through him. Buck’s parent’s saw through him, like he was nothing but a ghost, haunting them. Which, in a way, he supposes he was. No, Eddie looks into Buck. Like he’s peeling back the layers to peer right into Buck’s very core, taking his defenses apart piece by piece and leaving him bare, everything laid out for Eddie to pick through and place back together. 

Hiding something from Eddie is awful. Because it means Buck can hardly even talk to him. It takes one look and Buck wants desperately to spill his guts, to confess his all sins and have them cleansed away with soft words and gentle touches. He’s been avoiding Eddie, for the most part. He knows it’s hurting Eddie. It’s hurting him. It’s an actual, physical pain. An aching, sharp and hollow in his chest. A burning, gathering in his throat and spreading through his veins. 

Eddie’s tried talking to him. He’s begged Buck to tell him was wrong, bribed him with dinners with Chris and activities- family activities. Usually, Buck’s defenseless against those. But… now they make a wave of nausea crest in his gut and tears burn behind his eyes. It’s something he’ll never have, not really. He can play pretend with his Diaz boys all he wants, but when it comes down to it- when it comes down to it, he’s not one of them. Not in the way he wants to be. 

And he wants, he wants so bad. He wants to come home every night to them, to wake up with them every morning. He wants to kiss away Eddie’s pout everytime something goes wrong between them, he wants to promise Chris that no matter how mad Eddie might seem, it’s only because he loves him and he’ll calm down. He wants to be there so Eddie doesn’t always have to be the bad cop, he wants to be there whenever Chris has something he feels he can’t tell his dad. He wants to cook them family dinners each night and shop for their groceries and kiss them both goodnight and take care of them when they’re sick. Buck wants. He wants it all, so badly it threatens to crush him sometimes when he remembers he’ll never get it. 

But he doesn’t want anyone else, either. 

He’s come to that conclusion after many, many hours of thinking about what in his life will actually make him happy. Girlfriends never have. His job does, but it’s not enough. His family does, but not in the way he needs. The closest he’s ever gotten is the few shining moments he’s had with his Diaz boys when it seems like maybe, just maybe, he could belong to them. He doesn’t want anyone else. 

He realized that after a conversation with Hen about being Conner and Kameron’s donor. 

“Are you really sure this is what you want, Buck?” she’d asked again. She’d asked countless times over the past couple weeks, and Buck had always nonend. This time, though, she’d pressed. “Why? I know you love to help people but- there’s got to be more to this, Buck.”

And he’d been a little tipsy, so he’d sighed heavily and said, “I’ve always- I’ve always wanted a kid of my own. Like, one I made, y’know? And… I know they won’t really be mine, but… it’s looking like the only chance I’ll get.” 

“Buck,” she’d murmured, “There’s someone out there, someone for you.” Yeah, Buck thought, he’s about a ten minute drive away. “You’ll find them eventually.”

“No,” Buck breathed, shaking his head. Because he’s already found them. And he can never have them. “No, I don’t- this is my chance.” Something in his voice must have indicated he didn’t want to talk about it, because Hen dropped it. 

Buck wants Eddie. He doesn’t want the next best thing, and it wouldn’t be fair to whoever that is. He’s going to die exactly how he’s living, half in Eddie’s world and half on his own. One foot inside the house, one foot inside the fire station. He’s trying to accept it. 

Two and a half weeks after he sat in front of his friend and promised him his child, Buck’s heart feels about ready to beat out of his chest as he walks towards the doctor’s office. Vaguely, he wonders if he’s having a panic attack. He shakes his head at himself. No, no, he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s gonna go in there, get this done, and then walk away. Just like he agreed. He’s also definitely, definitely not going to think about Eddie. 

It’s hard not to, though, because he convinced himself to say yes to Eddie’s invitation to dinner and movie night at the Diaz house tomorrow night. He’s going to tell Eddie. Tomorrow, he’s going to tell Eddie. Once the sample has been processed, once there’s no backing out. Yeah. 

He takes a deep breath and opens the door to the doctor’s office. It’s going to be fine. 

-

Buck spends the next twenty-four hours in a numb, detached state. He barely sleeps. He goes through the motions of his life. He deep cleans his entire loft because he has the day off but he has to do something. He reads a third of the newest self-help books he’s found, but sitting still allows the nauseous feeling in his gut to build and threaten to overwhelm him. He goes to the gym and pushes himself to almost dangerous levels, until two of the other patrons have to run over and lift off the barbell that’s attempting to crush his throat. He takes that as a sign to go home. He remakes his bed three times until you could bounce a coin off it, reorganizes his book shelf, even cleans his toilet. 

Finally, mercifully, the clock hits 5:45 and it’s time to head over to Eddie’s. Climbing in the jeep, his stomach rumbles and he absently realizes he hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Hopefully Eddie’s made something good. His cooking has improved a lot lately, but he’ll still occasionally produce something that Chris often likens to an “old shoe.”

He only makes it a few blocks before he gets the call. His phone starts ringing and Buck taps the car display, answering without looking at the caller ID. An unfamiliar voice crackles through the jeep’s audio system. 

“Is this Mr. Evan Buckley?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah that’s me. Buck is fine.”

“Hello Mr. Buckley, this is Dr. Alice Offley.”

“Oh! Doctor, of course, hello. Is everything alright?”

“I-” she hesitates and Buck’s heart begins to sink. “There’s no easy way to say this, Mr. Buckley, but I have some concerns regarding your medical history that I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Y-yeah,” Buck whispers. “Yeah, of course.” 

“It says here you’ve suffered both a pulmonary embolism as well as blood clots as recently as 2019?”

“Yes, yeah, but that was- that was a firefighting incident, I’m fine now.”

The doctor only hums thoughtfully. Then, “And there’s a history of cancer in your family?” Buck’s blood runs cold, his heart settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out. “Is that- does that mean I can’t-”

“It means I’ll have to let your recipients know. There are some very serious risks involved that they need to be made aware of.”

“Y-you mean th-the kid could-”

“The child conceived from your DNA could be genetically predisposed to be at risk for cancer, specifically pediatric leukemia.” 

The world goes mute. White noise rings in Buck’s ears. The road in front of him blurs. He must hang up, because the screen goes dark. Tears burn his eyes. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, compressing his heart tighter and tighter until it’s about to burst. He can’t breathe, he can’t see, he can’t hear. Everything has gone muted and numb and this can’t be real. It feels like- it feels like he’s being crushed by the firetruck again, but this time there’s no one here to hold his hand. 

And then the impact slams him sideways and his head hits the steering wheel and it feels like nothing at all. 

-

Gaining consciousness is a struggle. The darkness calls to him, soothing and alluring and gentle. The blaring horn is the only thing he can latch onto to drag himself out of it. The sound is deafening and nonstop. It’s- it’s coming from his car, he realizes. He can’t see anything, even as he fights to open his eyes. The world swims in and out of view and it’s dark, it’s all dark. Every part of his body hurts. As much as he struggles, he can’t move and he can’t remember what happened. 

“H-he-hey S-Siri,” he croaks out. The small chime sounds and relief blooms in his chest. “Call 911.”

The line only rings twice before a male voice answers, “911, what’s your emergency?”

“M-Maddie Buckley,” he gasps. 

“I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

“Operator Maddie Buckley,” he begs, his voice breaking into a sob. “Please, please. Maddie.” The line clicks and then,

“Hello?” Buck whimpers out a sob of relief. “This is Maddie, who is this?”

“Mads,” Buck chokes. “Maddie.”

“Buck?” Panic creeps into her voice. “Evan is that you?”

“Accident,” his words are growing slurred and he realizes he doesn’t have long. “I need- I need you t-to call-” He coughs, gasping in breaths as the pain begins to overwhelm him. His vision swims and his breathing is ragged, raspy, pained. “Call Eddie.”

“Evan, where are you?” Maddie pleads, nearly hysteric. 

“Please,” he cries. “Please, promise me. Promise me you’ll tell him-”

“Evan, stop.”

“Maddie, listen,” he gasps. “You have to promise me, promise you’ll tell him I’m sorry.”

“No.” Buck can hear the tears in her voice. “No, no. No. You- you can tell him yourself. No.” 

“Maddie, I love you. But I need you to promise me you’ll tell him, and tell Chris. Tell them- tell them I loved them a-and I’m sorry, god, I’m so sorry.” His words are slow now, and he can only hope they’re clear enough for her to hear him. She knows, though. He knows she knows. She’ll tell them. But still, he whispers, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Maddie sobs. “But Evan, I need you to stay with me. Please, please don’t leave me. Stay awake, come on baby brother.”

“I love you. ‘M s’rry,” Buck slurs, and then he lets go and the darkness swallows him. He doesn’t even hear the last thing he whispers, “I think I’d have been a good dad.”

-

There’s a hand in his. Rough and warm, calluses brushing against his skin, holding onto him tightly. This is the first thing he’s aware of. The next is the beeping. Monotonous and steady, repetitive. It’s a familiar sound, but he can’t place it. Third is the smell. Again, he can’t place it. But it’s earthy and sweet and just… the only word that comes to him is home. 

He’s floating, not really anywhere at all. He’s not in the blackness anymore. Now it’s more gray. He can’t feel anything except the hand holding his. Then the hand shifts, pulling his up, and soft lips brush against his knuckles. The lips slide over his fingers and then a cheek, damp with tears, is resting against their joined hands. 

He hears a sniffle, small and heartbroken. He wants to reach out, to wipe away the tears, to kiss away the crying. Then the person clears their throat. When they talk, the voice comes out gravelly and rough. 

“I need you to wake up, Buck.” It’s more a plea than a command, heavy with grief. “Please. Please, I- I don’t- I can’t do this without you, man. Any of it. Please wake up. Please.” And Buck wants to. He wants to come back to this person whose name flits from his grasp but he knows he loves more than anything in this world. He wants to do whatever it takes to take the pain out of their voice. 

There’s a shaky, tearful sigh, and then there’s a hand on his forehead, adjusting his curls gently, fingertips brushing his skin. “It wasn’t your fault. Maddie- Maddie said that you kept saying sorry. That she was begging you to tell her where you were, but you just… kept saying sorry. Sorry to me. Me and Chris. Like- like you thought we’d blame you. She said you used every breath you had trying to reach us.” The tears are coming now, dripping onto Buck’s skin and rolling toward his wrist. 

The person takes a deep, broken up breath. “She said it was almost too late when they got to you. You almost- you almost didn’t- you almost didn’t make it, Evan.” The words are hitching, threaded with stifled sobs. “You still might not, and I don’t know what the hell happens if you don’t. I can’t- I can’t tell him, Buck. I can’t tell him he’s never going to see you again.”

Buck strains, aching to scream I’m here! He’s going to see me! The effort makes the grayness spin and darken, everything growing farther away. He can’t feel the hand as solidly now, the beeping is dulled. He still fights because he doesn’t want to leave, not right now. He wants to hear what else this person’s going to say to him. 

But he loses his battle, slipping back into the blackness. He doesn’t hear Eddie say, “How can I tell him he’s never going to see his father again?”

-

It feels more solid the next time Buck reaches the surface. He feels steadier, a little less like he’s floating. There’s a hand in his again. There’s the same beeping. The same scent hovering around him. But now he can feel the soft sheets beneath his other hand, the pillow supporting his head. He’s closer. 

The voice comes again, and he can taste the name on his tongue. “It’s been a week. They- they don’t know if you’re going to wake up. They say the longer it takes, the less likely it is. I don’t- I don’t want to believe them, Buck. Th-they don’t know you. They don’t know that you are a fighter and that there’s no way in hell you’re going to leave your family, not like this. You- you’re not- you’re not gonna leave me, Buck. You’re not. You didn’t- you didn’t drag me out of that street two years ago just to- to die on me before I get the chance to tell you…” 

Tell me what?! Buck wants to scream, but his body won’t obey him. 

“No,” the voice says, as if they heard Buck. “No, I’ll tell you when you wake up. I’m not… I’m not saying this until you can say it back.” There’s a shifting nearby and then the hand squeezes his own and those same soft lips brush Buck’s forehead, pressing the softest of kisses into his skin. “Please come back so I can tell you. Please.”

There’s silence for a few moments as Buck struggles to no avail. Then, “Chris misses you.” A face flashes in Buck’s mind. Curly hair, like his. Blue eyes, just a few shades off from his own. Glasses. Big, goofy grin. For a beat, he thinks he’s seeing the child he could have had. Then- no, the name sinks in and no, this isn’t his kid. It’s just the one he wishes was his. “He’s been asking about you, if he can see you. I- I keep telling him no. You- you wouldn’t want him to see you like this, when you can’t respond. I know that. But.. it’s hard Buck,” he admits, his voice breaking, “it’s so hard. I don’t want the next time he sees you to be… to be at a funeral. I really, really need you to come back.”

It’s more painful than the crash itself when Buck realizes he can’t do what the voice is asking. 

-

The third time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the hand in his is different. It’s smaller, more delicate. Softer, lacking the callouses. The voice is sweeter and less rough, sadder, when the person speaks. 

“Hi Evan. I, um,” there’s a small laugh, “I’m never really sure if you can hear me. Eddie changes his mind every time he tries to talk to you. But- I just- I wanted you to know. I’ll tell you again, when you wake up.” A pause. “If you wake up, I guess. But it- it might bring you some peace, I think. I told them, Evan. Just like- like you asked me to. I told Eddie first and he said I could talk to Chris. I rephrased a bit cause you weren’t- you weren’t all that lucid, y’know? But I- I knew what you wanted and I did it, I think. I hope. They knew already, of course they did. But he still… Eddie wanted- wanted to hear the call, Evan. I know- I know you wouldn’t have wanted him to hear you like that but… He’s grieving. I couldn’t say no, couldn’t keep that from him.”

There’s a small, short, teary laugh and then a chin is propped on their joined hands. Similar to the first time he came to, a hand brushes over his forehead. The fingers are softer and nails lightly scratch over his skin. “I hope you’re not mad when you wake up. It’s gonna be a when, yeah Evan? They- they tell me I should get used to saying if. I don’t want to. I want to believe you’re fighting, that you’re gonna come back to me. To them.” A heavy sigh. “I love you, baby brother.”

-

The first voice is back, gruff and warm and spreading through Buck like the glow of sunlight.The first thing he hears is, “I listened to the call. I- I made Maddie let me, so if you’re gonna be pissed at someone when you wake up, be pissed at me. I just… I had to hear it.” A sad, bitter laugh. The voice turns wet with tears, thick with emotion. Something in Buck’s soul aches. “Y-you were- you were choking on your own blood, Buck. I could hear it, over the phone. And still apologizing. Begging to be forgiven. While you were drowning in your own blood, bleeding out in your car on your own. Begging- begging for me. And shit, I was just like ten minutes away, man. But I wasn’t- I wasn’t there.”

Buck’s hands are clasped between two of the rough, calloused ones. They squeeze his fingers and something wet splatters on his skin. Tears, he realizes dimly. The person is crying, breaths hitching as they struggle to talk. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there. I didn’t- I didn’t even know until Maddie called me. And by the time I got there… you looked dead, Evan. I thought you were dead. But they- they were loading you into the ambulance.” A wet laugh. “They tried to stop me. Tried to hold me back. Didn’t work very well. I think I gave Hernandez a black eye. You remember Hernandez, yeah? From the C shift. He finally recognized me and let me through. They barely let me ride in the ambulance with you, but I threatened to call Bobby and no one wanted to fight that bad. Plus… you were in really bad shape. There was no time to argue.”

The hands shift, one leaving his and landing on his cheek, cradling his face softly, fingertips barely brushing over skin. “I thought you might die on the ride. Then in surgery. Then after, when you didn’t wake up. I still- you still might. They’ve been telling us to say if a lot. If you recover fully. If you remember anything. If you wake up at all. Maddie’s been trying. The rest of the crew, too. I can’t- I can’t bring myself to. It feels… it feels like I’d be giving up on you. Because you are going to wake up. You’re gonna come back to me, yeah?” The fingers skim up his face, brushing through his hair. 

“You just have to fight, cariño,” the voice whispers. 

Buck doesn’t know how much fight he has left.  

-

The next time Buck brushes with consciousness, the hand isn’t there. Buck panics, though he’s not sure why. He can feel more this time, the weight of his own body, a pricking sensation in his arm. The bed under him, the air on his skin. He’s so, so close. 

There’s a soft breath beside him and then fingers are intertwining with his and Buck feels like he breathes for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. 

“Hey Buck.” It’s the same voice, but this time when the name comes to him, Buck latches onto it like a lifeline, pulls it close to him and cradles it in his mind. Eddie. “I don’t even know if you’re hearing me. The doctors say it’s likely you can but… I dunno. I feel like- like if you could hear me, you’d come back. It’s stupid, yeah, I know. But- listen, Buck. If you can hear me, don’t- don’t even try to say anything, yeah? Just- just-” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “If you can hear me, just squeeze my hand. Please.” Eddie squeezes his hand as if to show him what he means. Then there’s a weight on his hip and he realizes it’s Eddie, resting his forehead against Buck’s body. “Please, Evan, just squeeze my hand.”

And Buck does.

-

It doesn’t happen how Buck thought it would. He doesn’t squeeze Eddie’s hand and open his eyes and everything’s fine. No, he squeezes Eddie’s hand and he hears Eddie shocked, “Buck?” and then the darkness swallows him immediately. 

The hand is still in his when he comes to again. He tests his boundaries, asking his fingers to twitch. They do, and the hand squeezes back instantly. 

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice is almost crystal clear now and Buck feels as if he might cry. But his eyes won’t open and his body still won’t obey him, not even his tear ducts. All he can do is squeeze the fingers in his. “Buck, it’s me, I’m right here.” Eddie sounds almost giddy with disbelief and Buck squeezes his hand again, elated to offer any semblance of relief and always desperate to make Eddie smile. 

“He’s awake!” Eddie’s voice calls. Immediately, a door is opening and there's feet shuffling and voices filling the room. Buck can barely filter them and all he can think is no I’m not. If he was awake, his eyes would be open. His body would listen to him. A panic seizes him suddenly and he starts rapidly squeezing Eddie’s hand, frantic. He can’t live like this, not if he’s not going to get better. He would rather die. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Eddie gently shushes him, squeezing back and setting a hand on his face, stroking his skin softly. “It’s okay, alright? Doctor Hersen is gonna explain a little.”

“Firefighter Buckley, can you hear me?” A new, older, strict voice reaches Buck. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once. 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, he can.” 

The doctor makes a soft humming sound. “Can you do anything else? Open your eyes, control how long you’re conscious?” Buck doesn’t move. He can’t answer. “Let’s try this; one squeeze for yes, two for no until you recover a bit more, alright? Because you will continue to recover, Evan. You just have to be patient with yourself.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand once. 

“He gets it.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Two squeezes and Eddie relays the answer. 

“Alright, that’s a potentially triggering subject to expose you to, so we’re going to refrain until you’re a bit more stable. Do you remember who you are?”

One squeeze. 

“Do you-” That’s Eddie’s voice, cutting in. He clears his throat, fear creeping into his words. “D’you remember who I am?”

One squeeze and Eddie lets out a long, relieved breath. Immediately, half a dozen voices start up again. Buck can’t isolate them, can’t understand them all. Panic starts seizing him again and he’s powerless to do anything but move his left hand, so he starts shaking. His hand, then his whole body is trembling. 

“Stop talking!” Eddie orders immediately, resuming the soothing stroking of Buck’s skin. “Everyone- everyone has to get out, it’s freaking him out.” 

The clamoring doesn’t stop and Buck searches for the darkness this time, yearning for the peace. It takes him in willingly and he manages one last weak squeeze of Eddie’s hand before he drifts off. 

-

The squeezing lasts what feels like maybe a day to Buck. They ask him lots of questions. Some he understands and can answer. Some he understands but can’t answer. Some are just a blur. Memories start coming back, bits and flashes. Getting the call, though he can’t determine who it was he was talking to. The car slamming into him. Calling 911. Talking to Maddie. The 911 call is the most frustrating to remember. He knows he asked for Maddie. He recalls begging her to tell Eddie he was sorry, that he loved them all. But that’s- that’s it. From the sound of it, it was worse than he remembers. It’s probably a good thing. All of it- it’s all just a jumbled mess, but he’s slowly piecing it together, fragment by fragment.

And then one time, he comes back to the surface and he feels Eddie’s hand in his and he smells Eddie’s body wash and he turns his head and he opens his eyes and there he is. Eddie. By his bed, as he has been for god knows how long. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and hair messy and several days of stubble shadowing his jaw. He’s never looked more beautiful. His eyes are closed, like he might be asleep. 

Buck squeezes his hand and tries to say something, but all that comes out is a hollow croak, somewhere between a moan and a wheeze. Eddie’s eyes fly open and tears well immediately. 

“Buck.” It comes out choked, heavy with shock and disbelief, squeezing his hand so hard it hurts and reaching a hand toward his face. He stops just short of touching Buck’s skin, but Buck gives him a short, jerky nod and Eddie’s hand lands on the side of his face, brushing his thumb over his cheek and wiping away the tear that has already fallen as Eddie pitches forward, burying his face in the crook of Buck’s neck and holding onto him for dear life. His tears wet the skin of Buck’s neck, but he couldn’t care less as he grips Eddie’s hand back like a vice. 

He tries to speak again, to ask for something to drink, but only lets out another croak. Eddie jerks back instantly. “Water,” he says, nodding. “Water, water, yeah of course.” Something bursts in Buck’s chest at Eddie’s immediate understanding of what Buck needs. The hand leaves his face but he can’t mourn the loss, because Eddie grabs a cup and brings it to Buck’s lips and the water trickles into his mouth and down his parched throat and Buck lurches forward, forcing Eddie to tilt the cup forward and let him drink it all in one go.

When the cup is drained, Eddie pulls it away and then simply waits, his eyes searching Buck’s face. Buck breathes for a moment, then lets the corner of his mouth turn up. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is hoarse from unuse, but Eddie looks at him like it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

“Hey,” he chokes out around his tears. “Th-the others will wanna know-”

“In a minute,” Buck cuts in. “Just…” he brushes his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “In a minute…” 

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see your eyes again,” Eddie says after a beat. “It sounds strange but-”

“It doesn’t,” Buck promises, looking at Eddie again, feeling his lips form a wide smile. “Not to me.”

Eddie just swallows hard and nods, shifting to clasp Buck’s hand between his.

“I heard you,” Buck tells him. “Not- not all the time, I don’t think. But… I heard you.”

Tears threaten to spill past Eddie’s lashes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You- you had something to tell me? Once I was awake, you said.”

A look of surprise crosses Eddie’s face and he blinks once, twice. Then he opens his mouth and-

The door opens. A tall man in a white coat steps inside as Eddie turns to look. The man spots Buck and his eyes widen in surprise. 

“He’s awake.” That’s the third voice Buck heard, the doctor. He steps forward in three swift steps, holding out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Buckley, I’m Doctor-”

“Buck is fine,” Buck interrupts, smiling but making no move to let go of Eddie’s hand and shake the man’s. 

Buck is fine. The words echo in his ears and he feels his brows draw together. Buck is fine. And then it all comes rushing back. The call, the test results, the crash. Doctor Offley telling him any children he has may be at risk for leukemia. The icy, electric realization that the one life he was brought into this world to save is also the very reason he cannot ever bring another life into it. 

A shock runs through Buck and whatever the doctor is saying now is lost to him as his ears start ringing and the world starts spinning. He can’t do this, he can’t- he- he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to recover from this, why he should recover from this-

“Buck,” Edide’s voice cuts through the panic, his hands squeezing Buck’s tightly. “Buck what’s going on?”

“I- I can’t-” He can’t breathe.

Distantly, he hears Eddie say. “Doctor, could you…?” And then, “Okay, Buck it’s just you and me. Breathe, c’mon, breathe with me, bud. Deep breaths, okay? In… out… in…” he continues for several breaths until Buck feels somewhat more grounded and looks at Eddie again. 

“Sorry,” he stammers out. “I- I’m sorry.” 

Eddie shakes his head, shushing him. “Nothing to apologize for, Evan. You can let yourself not be okay for a while. You- you almost died.” His voice cracks. “You could have died.”

Buck lets out a soft, dry snort, dropping his head back. “Yeah. What a shame that would’ve been.”

Eddie doesn’t even know how to reply to that. The words stick in his throat, held back by the sudden, icy fear clawing up his neck. He’s known something’s been wrong with Buck for a while. But maybe- maybe it’s way worse than what Eddie ever imagined. 

“Wh- what- how could you even say that, Buck?”

Tears well in Buck’s eyes, making his vision swim as he stares straight ahead at the ceiling. “I’m broken, Eddie. They should- I should fuckin’ donate my body to science so they can figure out what made me defective. Cause there- there’s something broken in me. It’s- it’s why I couldn’t save Daniel. Why any child I have will suffer the same fate he did.” 

“Buck, what are you talking about?” Eddie begs, lost beyond belief. Buck lets out a long sigh. This definitely isn't how he planned on telling him.

“I agreed to be a sperm donor,” he says. “For my friend, Conner, and his wife. They- they want to have a kid and they can’t so- so they asked me and I- I agreed.” The tears spill over, dripping down his face. 

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, and he sounds so sad it shatters something deep in Buck’s chest. His breath hitches with a barely contained sob. “Why? Why would you- why would you agree to that? You could never be-”

“A father,” Buck finishes. Eddie shakes his head. 

“A father who walks away. A parent who doesn’t know his child.” Of course Eddie cuts right to the core of it in less than a minute, slices Buck open and reveals the very thing that has been tormenting him since he said yes. 

“It’s the only chance I was gonna get,” Buck whispers, too tired to even try and lie. 

“Buck, what do you even- how can you think that?”

“Because it’s true.”

Eddie just shakes his head. He’ll deal with that in a minute. But for now… “Why wouldn’t you tell me? You’ve been struggling with this for- who knows how long-”

“Almost three weeks before the accident,” Buck offers. 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Buck hesitates for a long moment, but the answer comes out of its own volition. “I didn’t… I couldn’t handle disappointing you.”

“Buck,” Eddie whispers, and he sounds absolutely heartbroken by Buck’s confession. Buck forces himself to look at him, at the tears turning Eddie’s eyes into shining crystals. “Sweetheart, you could never disappoint me, okay? If you- if you really wanted this, I’d have supported it.” Even as the term of endearment causes a burst of warmth in his chest, Buck’s gaze flicks away and Eddie frowns slightly. “That wasn’t the problem, was it?” He can’t answer. “You were afraid I would see how much this is breaking you, that I would help you not do it.”

“I had to,” Buck chokes out. “I had to do it.”

“Because it’s your only chance to have a child?”

Buck nods.

“Bullshit.” It comes out a growl, tinged with anger. “Bull shit, Buck. For the love of- you already have a child, Evan.” Buck’s eyes snap to him, his expression struggling between shock, confusion, and hope. Eddie sets his hand back on the side of Buck’s face. He lets out a teary laugh, shaking his head and looking at Buck with pure adoration in his eyes. “What the fuck did you think my making you Chris’s legal guardian was?”

Buck just stares at him for several breaths until he realizes Eddie expects an actual answer. “That I’m- that I’m a backup?” he offers weakly. Eddie just shakes his head again, tears dripping down his cheeks even as a wide smile splits his face. 

“You’re an idiot, sometimes.” Buck blinks, taken aback. “Evan Buckley, you have been a second father to that kid since the very moment you met him. Even you can’t possibly have missed that.”

“I thought- I just thought-”

“He tells people at school he has two dads, Buck. He has since we built him that skateboard and he went into class the next day and proclaimed that ‘his dads made him a skateboard’ and I got a very confused call from a very frazzled Ana.” And Buck’s crying, but he can’t help but laugh at the image. “You’re his dad, Buck.”

“But you-”

“Yeah, I’m his father. I’m all he had for a while. We were doing alright. But there was always… there was always something missing.” His fingers card through the hair on the side of Buck’s head. “You. You were missing. You came barrelling into our lives and you filled the hole we had been convincing ourselves didn’t exist. It was you, Buck. You make our family whole. You’re everything we ever needed, everything I ever wanted.”

Buck starts. “Everything- everything you wanted?”

Eddie grins. “Ask me what I had to tell you.”

“Eddie, what-”

“Ask me.” 

Buck takes in a shaky breath, neither of them breaking their locked gaze. “What were you gonna tell me when I woke up, Eddie?”

“That I am completely and madly and foolishly and embarrassingly and entirely head over heels in love with you, Evan Buckley.” 

The breath catches in Buck’s throat and there are tears welling in his eyes again and this doesn’t even feel real. He lets out a short, disbelieving, shocked laugh. “You love me?” It comes out as a whisper, as if he fears if he were any louder, it would shatter the spell. 

“Wholly and completely, Buck.” Buck just stares at him, face breaking into a wide grin. “You got a response or…?”

“I think you should kiss me,” Buck says. “I think you should kiss me right now.”

And, well, Eddie really didn’t need to be told the second time. He’s gentle, careful, cradling Buck’s jaw in his hand and kissing him slowly, softly. He’s mindful of Buck’s bruises even as their fingers twist together and his fingertips press into Buck’s jaw, tilting his head to get just the right angle and it’s so fucking perfect Buck could cry. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and more. If only he’d known…

Eddie pulls back after what feels like an eternity, searching Buck’s eyes. “What are you thinking right now?”

“That if I knew getting hit by a car was all it took to get you to kiss me, I’d have done that years ago,” Buck replies. Eddie lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head as Buck grins. Buck takes his free hand and tilts Eddie’s face back towards his, fingertips under his jaw. “And that I love you more than I thought was humanly possible. That our family is everything I’ve ever wanted and more, that it was something I didn’t think I’d ever get.”

Eddie leans forward, resting his forehead against Buck’s. His lips brush Buck’s nose. “I think you’ve had it a lot longer than you know.”

“I think you’re right,” Buck breathes. “And all it took  to realize that was a week-long coma.”

[evanbuckleyrecs]

Title: Batting a Buck & Change

Written by: Daisies_and_Briars

Rated: T

Warnings: Chose not to use

Catagories: m/m

Relationships: Eddie & Chimney, Buck/Eddie, Buck & Maddie, Chimney/Maddie

Tags: Chimney tries to keep a secret, Stressed Howie 'Chimney' Han, Stressed Eddie Diaz, Confused Evan Buckley, Drunk Eddie Diaz, Drunk Howie 'Chimney' Han, too many baseball terms, Dads' night out, Feelings Confessions, Pre-relationship Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Engaged Maddie/Chimney, Maddie medling, Gay Eddie Diaz, Chim is a really good friend

Chapters: 5/5 (complete)

Words: 15,557

Summary:

“Do you remember that shift where Buck was off and Hen was on mandatory relaxation, and they both got drunk in Hen’s kitchen in the middle of the afternoon while we had to resuscitate a canine?”

Eddie nods vigorously. “Oh, Hoover. I remember Hoover.”

“Why have we never been drunk during a dog resuscitation, Eddie? Have you thought about that?”

“Well now I am.”

“We should call them and let them know that we can have fun on Dads’ Night Out.”

Nothing could go wrong.

OR

Eddie and Chim embark on a “Dad’s night out” to watch baseball at a sports bar, and after a few too many, Eddie accidentally lets his feelings for Buck slip.

My notes: oh my. This was absolutely amazing. I adored how good of a friend Chim was and I loved reading more about Chimney and Eddie’s friendship. This fic made me laugh, cry, and cry while laughing. Some moments are absolutely hilarious and got me kicking my feet and giggling on the couch. 10000000% recommend this one. Adorable!

[fromxxthexxashes]

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness (57965 words) by Daisies_and_Briars Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley, Daniel Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parents, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Bobby Nash Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Buck's coma, Multiverse, Canon until 6x11, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Feelings Confession, Slow Burn, Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley, Gay Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Summary:

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

Notes: I’m not very eloquent right now, so just know it’s absolutely beautiful and heart wrenching. It will make you cry. 

[arialerendeair]

IT’S TIME FOR A FEELINGS CONFESSION!!!! 

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Remember that this is not the proof that they love each other

That was a last-ditch attempt from Crowley to get Aziraphale to stay

This is the proof that they love each other

Their love wasn't just made real because they kissed

It always existed

[ineed-to-sleep]

Collection of bg3 sketches I've been nibbling at over the month. teehee

[zosanbrainrot]

part 2 of Zoro in WCI

01 02

I tried to write something to sum up my thoughts on this, but then it got longer and longer and tbh I'm itching to write a fic set in this AU djjdkf I think I could develop on their inner feelings more than in the comic form

Before posting the first part I didn't realize people had such strong opinions on how this would play out lmaooo

imo, of course Zoro wants to fight Sanji, not with actual intent to harm (they threaten each other on the daily, come on), but because that's how they are together, how they communicate. He respects Luffy's decisions and their goal here, which is to learn what's really going on with Sanji, but he's gonna be pissy about it all he wants. They both have so many intense and conflicted feelings about this and neither has any idea how to resolve them. So they fight.

ofc yall are free to headcanon this interaction any other way you want <333

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[huiyi07]

Nico canonically being the least dense and the most sensible when it comes to relationships and romance among the big three kids lives rent free in my mind

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

--

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

[ameamedraws]

Yoshizawa’s very own series of unfortunate events

[found--family]

cas would not kiss dean first. dean would also not kiss cas first. this is their tragedy. but a shapeshifter or some kind of monster clone or djinn dream would initiate the first kiss and they would 100% return it. or the real dean and cas would've just simply fallen together somehow like tripped and fell and gravity would bring their mouths together whoops anyway they'd both take it from there - and that's not fate pulling strings it's just dumb luck for these two dumbasses (affectionate)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i have a Scene - a Plot if you will - that backs this as context. y'all are gonna have to trust me on this one <3 or read the tags...

[ladyluscinia]

Ryan Reynolds having staff hype up his new tumblr account to users and then realizing that a shitty CW show that ended almost two years ago is trending over him in anticipation of the 5th