#who cares I text like an abuela | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mangoisms · 1 year

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eight: where did i go wrong? | read chapter seven

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 3.7k

━ warnings: canon typical violence, blood, etc

━ masterlist

━ a/n: sorry for disappearing! essentially, i started grad school and it is So Much Work. but if you'd like some unnecessary rambles on tim and wally's relationship here and in light of their og meeting in robin (1993), you can also find my thoughts on that here <3

The next day, you don’t hear much from Steph.

She does text you a few times, mostly reassurances and that she’s working to pull something together. You don’t quite understand but she was so convincing the day before, you let it go.

You mostly spend the day—after sleeping in—learning your new phone, excited at having something new and so high-tech to play with. Flash texts you several times during the day. Blurry selfies and equally blurry pictures of Keystone and Central. Even a couple of the New York skyline, as he informs you he decided to drop in and visit a few friends.

You can’t send him much. The clouds that hang in the sky, waiting to pour down on unsuspecting Gothamites at a moment’s notice. The feral cat that hangs out in the alley by your apartments, who you get close enough to to catch mid-hiss. The person on the subway carrying what you suspect to be a possum in their bag but Flash insists is actually an opossum. Whatever the difference is.

There is a difference!

idk sounds made up

You’re from the city. Of course you think that.

ok WOW

you’re blaming my dead parents for where they settled????

Yes.

wow

You go into work in relatively high spirits, considering everything.

Black Bat stops by for some gummy worms and a can of Red Bull and you tease her a bit for it.

“Signal’s influence?”

“Better than coffee.”

“Fair enough.”

Red hasn’t been by, you think, watching her go. Not yesterday and not today, though it’s early. He usually stops by nearly every night, if not for a couple minutes. But nothing specifically decrees that he comes by… You’re just used to it, you suppose, and last night’s absence was noticeable.

There’s still time, though. Maybe you’ll see him later tonight.

Overhead, the AC turns on. They fixed it, along with that electrical issue Red Robin caused last week. It works a little too well, though. These last few days have had you uncomfortably cold, so today, you come armed with a hoodie—Tim’s hoodie, the only piece of clothing you’ve ever managed to steal from him. A bit baggy on him and even more so on you, it’s a pleasant shade of azure blue. One of your more precious possessions since it’s, like you said, the only thing you really have from him. Also a bit of an indulgence right now but… you’re past the point of caring.

Maritza pops by a little while later, waving at you.

“Hey, Mari. Here for a Slurpee?”

“That, and I was wondering if you guys have any pain cream… Abuela’s back is hurting her and we ran out yesterday,” she says, lips pursed, glancing at the aisles.

“Pain cream,” you repeat thoughtfully, stepping around the counter. “We should. Let’s see.”

She follows you to one of the center aisles.

“How’s summer break been so far?” you ask, running your eyes over displays of toothpaste, disposable toothbrushes, and other basic items.

“Boring,” she sighs. “It’s too hot to do anything.”

You chuckle, tucking your hands in the pocket of Tim’s hoodie; your fingers are cold. They always seem to be. “Books are excellent ways to preoccupy the time.”

“Think I’ve read every book at the library,” she grumbles, which probably isn’t that much of an exaggeration. Gotham’s public library system is drastically lacking; it was only in May did Wayne Enterprises announce that they were investing more money into it. By now, they probably haven’t reached the library here in the Upper West Side.

“You should check out GU’s then. Kids get free library cards and our selection is fairly expansive. I’m sure you could get away with checking out some things for your abuela, too. At least until they fix everything in the one here.”

“Huh. Maybe.” She moves ahead of you, scanning the rest of the aisle. “Oh, hey, you guys do have some.”

She reaches for a box.

The door opens. You turn.

The wink of the kitchen knife is the first thing you see, then the trembling hand, and then the owner to whom it belongs, too. A scrawny man wearing a grey hoodie, the same hood pulled over his head.

It’s not great at hiding his face, you think dimly, every muscle inside you locking into place. Mari freezes behind you, breath audibly catching in a gasp as he turns the knife sharply on you.

For a second, the three of you just look at each other.

You break the silence first.

“All the money is in the register. Take it.”

A lengthy pause, one that amplifies the dread petrifying your insides. Your new phone, with Flash’s contact info, sits in the pocket of your hoodie, weighing it down; your fingers are laced together, cold, hovering right above it and you recall the rundown you’d been given by Flash last night, the… other not-quite-normal aspects of your new phone.

“Okay, so, on top of the League encryption stuff, there is something else.”

“Are you tracking me?”

“Not… exactly.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Your location is logged with the League,” he admits. “But it’s secure. You’re registered with me, so only I can look at it. My wife’s phone is like yours. Her information is there, too. A lot of us do it with our families. Not just to keep sensitive information secure, but there’s… a risk that comes with being with us.”

You frown at him. “Does she know?”

He looks horrified. “Of course she does. I don’t go around just tracking her without her knowledge. That’s weird. And messed up. I don’t even actively do it. Not unless she’s been kidnapped or she wants me to. That’s what I’m trying to say. Your location is being tracked but I’m not peeking in on it. No one is, unless a need comes up. An emergency kind of need. And that brings me to my next thing.”

He pauses, looking at you, calculating, but you just nod for him to continue.

“You have my number,” he says. “So, you can call me. For emergencies or if you just want to talk about your day. But in the case that you can’t call me, if you’re in some kind of danger…” He plucks the phone out of your grasp, turning it over in his hands, pointing to the power button on the side. “Press this three times and it’ll send an SOS signal to me, along with your location. I’ll come. Okay?”

“Are you… sure?”

He seems affronted. “I don’t just do this for anyone. I thought you’d have seen that by now. You’re…” he stops, frowning deeply. “You mean a lot to me, kid. If I can save you, if I have the opportunity to keep you safe, I’ll take it. I wouldn’t ever ask you to leave Gotham because it’s your home and I know the Bats hang around but… this just makes me feel better. You have a direct line to me. Use it.”

“Batman probably won’t like that.”

“Batman can suck it,” he says petulantly. “Especially after what he did to you last week. I take care of my own. No matter where they are. Got it?”

You got it.

The thought still astounds you even now, that Flash cares that much about you and how ironic it is that you don’t even know who he is under the cowl but maybe you don’t need to. This is still him, isn’t it?

And you would heed his words. Of course you would. You have no interest in dying. You have no hangups about being saved. Flash didn’t think you incompetent, it was just a precaution, a necessity for living in the world you do.

That is true now more than ever.

Especially with how aware you are of Mari behind you, too.

“Take your hands outta your pockets,” he says.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

“Just take the money, man.”

You have to be careful but quick. If you could just unlace your fingers and reach for your phone…

Of course, you have no idea how quickly the signal will reach Flash or how fast he’ll even be able to get here…

You guess you’ll just have to trust him. Trust him and his capabilities.

A step forward. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You can hear Mari behind you, her breath quick and uneven. You’re most worried about her, to be honest. If you go down, what’s going to happen to her? You dread to think about it.

“Take your hands out of your fuckin’ pocket,” he hisses; despite the severity of his voice, his hand is trembling. You don’t get why he won’t just grab the money and go.

He must think you can call the police or something but even then, it’s not as if the GCPD are reliable. As if they can do anything.

As for you, there is nothing else you can do. You need to call him.

“Mari, run!”

Your hand grapples for your phone at the same time.

You hear the snick of sneakers on the tiled floors, your fingers slip over the sides of the new case currently hugging your phone, and he surges forward and then—

Just a mere spark, one that jolts you as you realize what happened. It’s small at first, then bigger, then massive, a forest fire eating you alive from the inside out, burning white-hot.

You can’t do anything.

You stare at the man in front of you, closer now, close enough to dig his knife right into the soft flesh of your belly. His eyes are wide, too. Like he can’t believe he just did that. Neither can you.

But the worst of it comes when he pulls the knife out.

The sound that escapes you is foreign to your ears. Your knees give out. One hand presses to the source of your pain, the other lands hard on the tiled floor; your wrist smarts, your arm trembling as you hold yourself up.

You’re barely aware of anything other than the pain. Throbbing heat, warmth rapidly spreading through the front of your shirt and hoodie. Your vision blurs, from tears and from the pain, your heart pounds so hard, you feel it in your teeth, hear it in your ears above the rush of your blood.

You manage a glance behind you, relieved to see Mari is gone and hopefully back in the safety of the apartment building next door. Ahead of you, the man is scrambling to get the cash register open, cursing like a sailor and eventually yanking it off the counter and smashing it on the ground, ducking out of your view.

God, you need to call Flash. Not 911, they won’t get here in time, no way, you need him. Before the man decides to cut his losses and kill you. You hope he’ll just take the money and run, but you’ve seen his face, surely he knows that puts him in that much more danger of being arrested—

The door opens. You hear your name from a familiar voice and then someone steps into view.

Tim’s eyes are wide as he looks at you, horrified, but behind him, your attacker shoots up from the ground and you choke out a warning, an urging to run, to get out of here, you don’t know what you’d do if anything happened to him, no, no, you can’t lose him like that.

He whips around just as the man swings himself over the counter, letting out something of a war cry, cash held in one hand and the knife in the other. It gleams red under the light. He lunges.

“Tim!”

But his fatal injury does not happen. Instead, you watch him duck out of the way, moving faster, more gracefully than you’ve ever seen, like he’s done this before and the man doesn’t expect it, stumbling with his own momentum. Not stopping, either, Tim grabs the man’s wrist, heaving him over his shoulder until he slams into the ground hard. It’s brutal. It’s violent. It’s nothing you’ve ever seen from Tim, your Tim who… who hates needles and always bemoans going to get the yearly flu shot with you and Steph, your Tim who can get impatient, snippy, but not violent.

You don’t understand. With the haze of pain, that fact feels oddly upsetting.

The door opens again. He whips around, geared up for another fight, but it’s just Spoiler, it’s—

Golden hair, familiar blue eyes. A face you know by heart. Even with the bottom of her face hidden.

They’re both at your side in an instant. In good timing, too, because your arm gives out but before you can crash to the ground, Tim catches you, turning you over in his arms and gently laying you back onto the tile.

“You’re okay,” he says quickly, eyes scanning you frantically. “You’re okay.”

All the movement tugs at your belly, flames flaring for a brief moment, making you dizzy with pain, choking out your voice, leaving you to blink the tears out of your eyes and look up at your friends.

You don’t like the look on their faces. Horrified. Full of dread. It hurts you.

“Fuck,” Stephanie Brown, also known as Spoiler, says, digging through pouches in her utility belt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oracle, where is the nearest hospital?”

“I know where it is,” Tim says, snapping into action, his hands reaching for the hoodie. “Off Murphy Ave.”

Rrrrrrip.

He tears through the front part of your hoodie—his hoodie—like it’s nothing. Both their faces drop as they see your shirt underneath it but you’re more focused on the first part of what just happened.

“Did you—have to tear it?” you whine. “This is the only hoodie I have from you…”

“You can have all of my hoodies,” he promises, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

Another ripping sound.

Steph reaches underneath you. “Didn’t go through.”

Tim nods. “The sooner we get her to the hospital, the better. I don’t like how much blood she’s losing.”

“I can hear you, you know,” you mutter, more petulant than you want but considering you are bleeding from a stab wound, you think you get to be.

They both let out strained chuckles. Tim reaches for one of the pouches of Steph’s belt. You wonder how he knows which one to open. You wonder a lot of things. Where he learned to kick ass. Whether he has always known Steph is Spoiler. How he is so calm right now. It tickles at you, like you have all the pieces to the puzzle but the full picture still isn’t coming out.

And oh, yeah, the burning throb of the stab wound is really sapping your concentration, too. Cold creeps in at the edges, your fingers feeling icy as you clench them. You shiver violently, though it hurts to move like that.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Steph says soothingly, squeezing your hand. “We just really need to get you to a hospital to guarantee that.”

“You should—fuck!” The gauze Tim presses to the wound sends shockwaves of pain through you. Black spots appearing in your vision, breath squeezing in your throat.

He says your name loudly. “Breathe.”

“Fuck you,” you wheeze out, trying and failing to curl away from the pressure he is currently applying to your wound. “That—hurts—”

“I know,” he says, pained. “But I have to. We have to. I’m sorry.”

“He’s right,” Steph says, brushing some of your hair away from your face. “Come on, talk to me. Ignore what he’s doing. What were you going to say before?”

“My phone,” you mumble, shivering. “Flash gave it to me. S-Said if I press the power button three times, it sends a distress signal to him.”

“That’s kind of him,” Tim mutters, sounding, dare you say it, jealous, which, in your haze of pain, just pisses you off.

“You absolute asshole, you don’t get to—”

“Stop it!” Steph snaps, lunging for your phone. “Tim, focus on saving her life and not on being an ass right now, okay? I’m calling him. We need that kind of speed. She’s losing too much blood and the hospital is too far.”

He sobers significantly. A bloodied hand reaches for yours. You’re only aware of it because you see it, the sight of his pale skin covered in your blood, his fingers wrapping around yours. He squeezes.

“Can you feel that?”

“K-Kind of.”

“Do it, Spoiler.”

“I’m doing it, Timothy.”

She is. She holds your phone in gloved hands, pressing the button three times, then scoots away from your head, lifting your feet over her lap.

Tim continues his work, the pressure he continues to apply to the wound making your head spin. Exhaustion creeps in at the edges, making your eyelids drag with each blink.

No, no, falling asleep is bad. You’ve seen enough movies and TV shows of injured characters to know that. You have to stay awake.

Steph watches you, concerned. “How long—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as a sharp gust of wind hits all of you. It knocks things off the shelves and then, all of you are blinking up at the Flash, blue lightning fading away.

He breathes your name and in the next blink, he’s next to you, on his knees.

“Hey, Flash,” you croak.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says softly, a gloved hand resting tenderly on your forehead. He looks at Tim and Steph. “Hospital?”

“It’s—”

Tim cuts Steph off, staring hard at Flash. “She’ll most likely need a blood transfusion. Her blood type is AB positive—”

“And she’s allergic to penicillin,” Steph tacks on quickly.

“Got it.” He sweeps you into his arms and you whimper at the movement. “And the hospital?”

“Intersection of Murphy Avenue and Elliot Circle,” Steph tells him.

“Be careful,” Tim stresses.

Flash gives him a frosty look. “I got it. You’ve done enough.”

Stop fighting, you want to say, but Flash is delightfully warm and you’re so tired. If you rest your eyes for just a little bit, that’s fine, right?

“Flash—!”

A sharp tug in your belly, gravity pulling on you, and darkness falls over you like a blanket. You surrender without fight.

Voices puncture the veil of darkness. Soft murmurs, soothing tones.

“She’ll be okay, Red,” a woman murmurs. “You got her here on time.”

“I know, Lin,” someone else says and wait, you know that voice. It’s Flash. He sounds so… harrowed. “But I just… I don’t know.”

“You know what the doctors said. The danger is gone. And with you here… maybe…” she trails off, tone implying something you aren’t privy to.

A deep breath. “Do you think so? I could’ve, earlier, but I didn’t know if it would hurt her and I didn’t want to take the chance…”

“Well… I think you’re a big softy and she means a lot more to you than you ever realized. So… maybe.”

“Maybe,” he echoes back and you want to know, want to ask what exactly it is he and this mystery woman are talking about but you slip back under again.

The next time you resurface, it’s to cutting words and a tension so thick, you feel it, too, even with all your senses muddled, knee-deep in a haze.

“I don’t mind her,” Flash says coldly. “But you, too?”

“She’s my friend. I have a right to see her, too,” someone else says—Tim, you realize. It’s Tim, his tone cutting, temper on the rise.

“The way you’ve treated her these past two months doesn’t say much about friendship to me.”

“I was going to tell her—”

“Oh, you were going to tell her? Only after you finally fucked it all up being caught hanging out with your friends when you explicitly said you were too busy to hang out with her? Yeah, that’s real great.”

“You haven’t told her,” Tim points out petulantly.

“Really mature,” Flash scoffs. “I have a good reason to keep it from her. What’s yours? It’s not like you were deprived of her attention. You’re friends. Why the hell would you favor Red Robin over Tim Drake?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand—”

“No, I bet you don’t, because it’s easier to excuse yourself that way, isn’t it?” he seethes. “You’re just like him, you know. Just like him.”

You don’t know who they’re talking about. Or maybe you do and it’s just not coming to you. But the comparison isn’t a kind one. The way Tim snaps back in the next second affirms that.

“She wasn’t talking to me! I was—worried!”

“So, you should’ve talked to her! Instead of going behind her back and befriending her as Red Robin! What the hell did you achieve by doing that?”

“We were going to tell her, too, you know,” the woman from before says, her tone disapproving. “Very soon, in fact. But his situation is different from yours and you know that.”

Silence stretches on.

“Well, I still want to see her,” Tim says quietly, the fight leaving his voice.

“How—” Steph. Her voice cuts out, thick in a way that is unfamiliar to you. She clears her throat. “How is she?”

“Stable,” the mystery woman informs her.

“Why hasn’t she woken up?” Tim asks. You can just hear the frown in his voice and the vision of him forms easily in your mind, that familiar wrinkle between his brows, pretty pink lips pursed.

“Anesthesia still needs to wear off,” the woman says. “She’ll wake up soon.”

“But until then,” Flash cuts in, tone still severe. “Feel free to make yourself scarce. Stephanie can hang around. But you? No way in hell.”

“You think she wants that?” Tim shoots back, anger returning. “You don’t know anything. You have no idea. You’re assuming—”

“Yeah, I am. She’s not awake. She can’t tell us. Until then, I—we—can make those decisions.”

“Oh, that’s great. I’m sure she’ll love that—”

“I know what you’re thinking and we’re doing this with good intentions. You can’t say the same, can you?”

That doesn’t help. Fans the flames, if anything, as they keep arguing.

Ugh. You don’t want to hear this.

Like mercy, you slip under again.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades @thereallchristine @thatonecroc @1lellykins @jelsafan0 @hearttjason @kno-way-home @moniverse05 @bat-h-tic @ghostindeath @escapism-r-us

[ask to be tagged! either here or my inbox <3]

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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gaysindistress · 11 months

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Things that I think would happen if Bucky dated a latina!reader

gaysindistress masterlist

1. He would learn Spanish for you.

This feels like a given because he loves you and will do anything for you but the shocking part is that he catches really quickly and is pretty fluent early on. However, he would get words mixed up every now as does everyone learning a new language. This then leads to some unfortunate situations for you two where you have to explain that he didn't mean whatever he accidentally said. The most recent and biggest mix-up of them all, however, is when he was picking up your mom from lunch with her friends and he introduced himself as "Soy Bucky, el esposo de Y/N." He didn't even notice at first but when your mom gasped and hit his shoulder, he immediately realized that he'd said he was your husband and not your boyfriend. All of the women were very upset that they hadn't been invited to the wedding and that your mom kept it a secret. The following text convo happens the moment you get off the phone with your mom.

Afterwards, your dad gets in on it too, telling Bucky that the Muñez women are nothing if not persistent and if he wants to get your mom off his back, he needs to make it real.

"Si tienes una pregunta importante que hacerme, este es el tiempo," he tells your poor mortified boyfriend as he gets ready to hang up. Unbeknownst to you though, he did in fact ask if he could have lunch with your dad later that week where he does ask that important question.

2. We've established that he loves Mexican food however I'm expanding his love to all Latin American food and he will learn how to make your culture's food as a token of his love for you.

He knows how important food is to your family and you've done so much for him so he wants to learn how to cook to show you how appreciative he is of you. I don't see him as a person who likes making big romantic gestures or getting you elaborate gifts because he doesn't need those very public displays to prove that he loves you. He does that every day in the small ways that he cares for you. I see him as someone who spoils you every single day with flowers, coffee, notes, you know all of the cute little things so learning how to cook feels very much like a Bucky thing to do.

He enlists the help of your tías and your abuelas because he wants it to be a surprise to not only you but your parents as well. Granted your parents already love him because he learned Spanish for you but this would be the cherry on top. He would forever be their favorite son-in-law after they come over for dinner and he's made an entire feast of delicious food without your help.

3. When he goes to visit your family in your home country with you, that's where he proposes.

It's the cutest thing ever and he has everyone in on it. This is obviously after he called himself your husband so it shouldn't be a shocker but it surprises you nonetheless. He takes you out early in the morning so it's just the two of you and you can watch the sunrise together. He managed to convince everyone to stay away from the two of you and had your favorite cousin plan a little surprise engagement party for when you got back. It's literally the cutest and sweetest thing ever and you're both bawling your eyes out when he gets down on one knee. He says the entire thing in Spanish which makes you cry even harder and it's just perfect.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #latina reader #latina #bucky x latina reader #latina reader x bucky

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sapienthouse · 1 year

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[ID: 2 old digital drawings of Maximus. The first drawing is full-body, reminicent of MS paint drawings, and the other is a character sheet with a front and back full-body, two side portraits of her face, and a sketch of her skateboard, which depicts an open, toothy mouth across the entire underside. The character sheet has her name, her nickname "Maxie", their pronouns "She/her" and questioning "They/them" and both a nonbinary and lesbian flag. She smiles in both, mouth-closed in the first, and open with their tongue out in the second.

Appearance: Maxie is fat, with peach-tone skin, wide set eyes with contacts giving them horizontal pupils, short straight black hair, body hair on their arms and legs, dimples, and a wide flat nose. Her hair is shorter in the first drawing, the character sheet giving her a micro bob; they have short straight bangs in both.

They wear a black and white checkered shirt under a green cami with eyes on the chest, arrows pointing down on them with text reading, "my eyes are down here." Under both shirts, she wears a black turtle neck, and in the first it has long sleeves. She wears a beanie that says "Fuck teeth" in all caps; the first is green with bobbie pins held on it, and the second is lavendar. They have several facial piercings, ear gauges, and black Xs for eyebrows. They also wear lavendar fingerless gloves.

In the first drawing, they wear a black skirt under light-wash jeans, and in the character sheet she wears a big black hoodie around their waist under green capris. She wears black socks and green converse in both, the circle logos being lavendar in the first drawing. end ID]

OC-tober day 3❣️❣️ OGs remember my beautiful wonderful Maxie :-)!!!!! She's a 16 y/o living with her abuela and working at the local family-owned Snacks N' Gas gas station, who's owners have become like family to them, too. Their story (which can be found in my head) is all about community taking care of each other!

when she's not at school, she's either helping her grandmother, working at the gas station, or hanging out in and around the gas station. locals frequently see her practicing skate tricks with friends in the parking lot, and leaning over the counter with a breakfast burrito and a suicide slushie.

Their abuela and her have been family friends with Snack n' Go's staff since she was little, so they were quick to give her a job when she mentioned looking for one. They help take care of her when her grandmother's health declines, giving her extra cash, rides home when the weather's bad (she prefers skating), home cooked food (she may love those breakfast burritos but they are Not nutritious enough for a growing teenager!), and a place to feel like a kid. more Maxie trivia includes:

They're a celebrated member of their high school's robotics club, having helped turn a middling team into one that won state championships 3 years in a row. Battling bots are her favorite to work on!

After learning the tooth fairy didn't exist, they convinced their grandmother to let them keep their fallen teeth in a jar proudly displayed in her bedroom.

She's lefthanded and her eye color under the contacts are hazel

Favorite icecream flavors are mint chocolate chip and rocky road

Maxie should Really be wearing her glasses more often. They're bifocals, but she really only wears them like reading glasses

Deeply autistic about frogs, she could lead like. a week of lectures just about frogs, all from memory.

THAT'S my sweetsy :-)!!! I think I made her around 3 or 4 years ago? They won't be the oldest OC I talk about this month, but all the others need redesigning and she's the oldest i Never Stopped Thinking About yk? so she was just the most appropriate pick for today's "old OC" prompt 🫀🫀🫀

#my ocs #my art #oc-tober

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 2 years

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All I Want for Christmas is You

Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: General Pairing: Buddie, Eddie Diaz x Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley AO3 Masterlist

Summary: Eddie’s mom and ex-wife are up to no good at his Abuela’s Christmas Eve party, good thing Buck proposed he go to the party as Eddie fake date to keep them at bay.

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Unbelievable!” Eddie shouted down at his phone in his hands.

He was currently sitting upstairs at the station, halfway through a twenty-four hour shift, tired as shit and now mad as hell to boot. As soon as he read the text and had a moment to stew on the couch where he sat alone, he dialed.

“Hello, Edmundo, it's so good to hear from you!” His mom picked up on the second ring, but hearing her extremely upbeat tone did not help his mood. “We got our plane tickets yesterday, well be flying in on-”

“I just got a message from Javi telling me that you invited my ex-wife to the party at Abuelas on Christmas Eve?!” He cut her off, not even caring about the flight and their trip into LA for the holidays right now. “Cancel with her right now!”

“Edmundo, I know I raised you to have better manners than this. I can't cancel now, it would be rude.”

Eddie scoffed into his phone and shook his head. “I don't care if it's rude, Mom, she's been rude since the day she walked out on me and Christopher! I do not want her there!”

“Edmundo Diaz, you cut your tone and listen to me. She is Christopher's mother, your wife-”

“Ex-wife!” He screamed into the phone, face red with rage, and stood beginning to pace the area in front of the couch. “And she has made it very clear over the years that she wanted nothing to do with me or Chris. I do not want her at the party, even bringing her up stress’s Chris out and I will not have him upset on Christmas Eve because of her. So call her and tell her she's not welcome.”

“I am not doing that. This is absolutely ridiculous, you need to see each other and fix this.”

“There is nothing to fix, call her now!”

“Edmundo-”

Eddie didn't let her finish and hung up, then plopped himself back on the couch, slumped forward with his head in his hands.

His uncharacteristic outburst had also gained the attention of his entire crew, who were now all looking on from the game area upstairs, and very concerned. Eddie never freaked out, not like that.

“Buck,” Hen nudged him where he stood beside her, “you gotta fix that, baby.”

“Hen’s, right,” Chim added, “something is clearly very, very wrong, and you're his best friend. So go talk to him, make sure he's okay.”

Buck stood there watching Eddie for a few more moments. His head was still slumped over, his shoulders hunched in, his hands rubbing up and down his face. He knew this look, he also knew that level of freak out. The rest of the crew might have no idea what's going on, but Buck knew Eddie better than anyone, so he knew exactly what was going on. He also knew that Eddie would need someone to vent to, and of course he would be that person.

“Okay,” Bobby waved a hand at them, gesturing them away, “everyone clear out, let's give them some privacy.”

Buck hung back a beat for everyone to clear out, Bobby to his office, and Hen and Chim downstairs to work on the trucks and ambulance, then he walked over and sat on the couch beside Eddie.

“So,” Buck started when Eddie didn't look up, “what did they do this time?”

“Probably the worst thing they've done yet,” he answered, finally sitting back to look at Buck, “my mom invited Shannon to the Christmas Eve party at Abuela’s.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah,” he shook his head and sank deeper into the couch, “I got a text from my cousin. He told me my mom had invited her, thought I'd want a heads up so I wasn't showing up to the party blind. But it's an ambush, Buck, I know it is.”

“Why would your mom invite your ex-wife to your Abuela’s party?” He asked.

“Because my mom never approved of my getting divorced. She thought that Shannon and I should have just worked out all of our problems, but how am I supposed to do that when she left us in the middle of the night?!” He ran his hands down his face again, trying to calm down. “And I know I wasn’t the best husband, I was away a lot, wasn't there for her and Chris when they needed me.”

“Eddie, that's bullshit,” Buck scoffed, “you were deployed and fighting for your country. It's not like you were off cheating. You were risking your life in another country so that her and Chris could live free and safe. If she didn't understand that then that's her problem.”

“Thanks, Buck,” he smiled over at him. Buck always had a way of making him feel better. “But even still, Shannon and I were always doomed, long before my deployment. The only reason we stayed together really was because of my mom, who is now trying to stick her nose where it doesn't belong.”

“I don't think your Abuela will be too happy about this either,” Buck added, “from what I remember from talking to her about it, she is not a fan of Shannon’s.”

“No she is not,” he agreed, “she saw the toll it took on Chris when Shannon left, how much it stresses him out when his mom is brought up in any way. And if he sees her at this party he's going to get all upset, and the thing that kills me is that obviously my mom and Shannon don't seem to care. Chris has been looking forward to this party for a month and I don't want him all worked up because of this. Why now is she all of a sudden wanting to show up at family events? You know, after she left I tried for years to get her to come see Chris. I invited her to birthdays, Christmas, holidays, school events, and she never wanted to come to any of them. So somethings up, and I'm sure my mother is in on it too.”

“Why don't I go with you?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugged, “and just to really screw with both your ex-wife and your mom, why don't we pretend it's a date?”

“A… a date?” Eddie swallowed hard, a lump suddenly finding its way into his throat, his skin hotter than the fires he fought. “You want to pretend to be my… my boyfriend?”

“Why not?” Buck asked, as if it was no big deal. But to Eddie, it was a big deal, a very, very big deal. Eddie had wanted to ask Buck out since day one, but everytime he got close he chickened out. Now Buck was asking him out, well kind of, but it was all going to be fake. A taste of what Eddie wanted, of what he could have, and Buck didn't seem to think of it as being anything more than the fake out it was, just a show put on to keep his mother and ex at bay. And if that was the case then maybe Eddie had been lucky that he was such a chicken all those years, maybe Buck would have said no if he'd asked him out for real. Then he was brought out of his quickly spiraling thoughts by Buck's voice again. “If you want me to, I'll go with you to your Abuela’s party and while we're there we'll stand real close, hold hands, snuggle, make them both super uncomfortable, and just have a really good time. It'll drive them both crazy, trust me. And as an added bonus, Chris can't possibly have a bad time if I’m there!”

“You know what, yeah, let's do it.” Eddie had thought of saying no, because how could he possibly let himself live in a fake fantasy for one night only to have it violently ripped away from him once their mission was complete, but Buck was right about Chris, and this was really all about him. So Eddie pushed his feelings aside so his son could be happy. “And you're right, Chris will be thrilled to have you there. So if all else fails, at least Chris will be happy.”

“It's a date then!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

In a matter of four hours Eddie had tried on all of his three suits probably ten times each. Normally he wouldn't care so much, it was just a family Christmas party at his Abuela’s house, no big deal. Except this one was a bigger deal than all the other times. Not for the fact that his family was flying in, not for the fact that his ex-wife was going to be there, but for the fact that he was going to the party with Buck. Buck who was his best friend, who was Christopher's second legal guardian, Buck who Eddie had been completely and utterly in love with since his first day in the 118. And Buck was going to be there in less than fifteen minutes to pick him up for the party, and still Eddie hadn't landed on which suit to wear. God, they were only fake dating for one night and already Buck had him in shambles.

“You should wear the dark blue one, Daddy.” Eddie turned to find Christopher standing in his bedroom doorway, all done up in his own beige plaid suit that he had picked out for the party a few weeks back, with his curls brushed neatly to the side. He had insisted on getting himself ready all on his own, and though he didn't let it show when he had told Eddie as much, it broke Eddie's heart just a little bit that Chris didn't need his help anymore. “The blue one makes you look the most handsome.”

Eddie nodded with a smile, it would seem his decision had been made as he slipped into the navy blue pants and matching jacket, then walked over and knelt in front of Chris. “Thanks, kiddo, and you look very handsome too,” he smiled and reached out to flatten the collar of his jacket.

The doorbell rang then, and Eddie looked down at his watch. He was right on time.

“Who could that be?” Chris asked, looking a little put out. “We have to leave now or we'll be late for Abuela’s party, why is someone at the door now?”

Eddie just laughed as he stood and guided Chris down the hall. “Why don't you go open the door and see who it is.”

Chris sighed, a slight bit overdramatic, but conceded. “Okay, fine.”

Eddie stood back a bit and watched Chris shuffle his way over to the door, and he had to laugh as Chris mumbled under his breath about ‘not having time for guests right now’, then smiled when he opened the door and his entire demeanor changed in an instant.

“Buckey!” Chris shouted, instantly lifting his arms up to Buck.

“Hey, kiddo!” Buck shouted back, just as excited to see him, and lifted Chris into a hug.

“Are you coming to the party with us, Buck?” Chris asked, tugging on Buck’s jacket which got Eddie's attention.

Eddie looked up from his son to Buck, and he was sure he would have to pick his jaw up off the floor. Buck looked great, amazing, and there was no way Eddie was going to make it through this party unscathed. He was wearing Eddie's favourite colour on Buck in the form of a dark maroon suit, which clung to Buck in all the right places. The jacket and button up underneath were stretched tightly across his chest, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders, a feature of Buck’s that Eddie wished he could get his hands on. And the matching pants were more than a sin. They were, if even possible, somehow tighter then the jacket, and Eddie’s eyes were suddenly caught on the firmness of Buck's thighs. God, how many times had he fantasized about those thick muscled thighs being wrapped around his waist while he-

“I sure am!” Eddie registered Buck answering Chris's question, and quickly darted his eyes away from Buck’s thighs and back to his face. Then Buck, the usual goofball he was, grabbed the collar of his jacket and turned on his heels once. “How do I look? Party ready?”

“You look great, Bucky!” Then Chris turned back to look at Eddie. “Doesn't Buck look great, Dad?”

“I…” Eddie felt his cheeks suddenly heat up. There were a lot of things Eddie could say about how Buck looked right now, though many of them were not appropriate for the ears of his child, so instead he went with, “Yeah, you look good, Buck.”

Buck flashed him a smile, and Eddie even thought that maybe he saw a bit of pink in his cheeks too, but it couldn't be.

Then Chris's eyes caught on something on the ground by Buck’s feet and his eyes lit up again. “Are those for me?!” He asked and pointed to the gifts.

“They sure are!” Buck bent down and grabbed some, reaching up to hand them to Eddie before going back for the rest.

They walked in and tucked them under the tree quickly, then Buck stood to watch Chris with a smile while he awed over all the gifts Buck had brought.

“You didn't have to do that, Buck.”

Buck just turned to Eddie with a smirk and a shrug. “What's the good of having friends with kids if I can't spoil them a little?” Eddie just shook his head with a fond smile, then Buck pointed to the new pile of gifts under the tree. “There's a few in there for you too.”

“You definitely didn't have to do that.”

“Just some fun stuff I thought you guys would enjoy,” Buck smiled and took one more glance over at Chris and asked, “so, should we get going? Abuela hates it when we’re late.”

“Yeah, just…” Eddie walked past Buck and over to the couch where he had draped his tie over the back. “I just have to figure out this stupid thing. I was never good at this, I should have just gotten a clip-on like the one I got for Chris.”

Buck laughed then reached out his hands to take the tie. “Here, I'll do it for you.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, okay.”

Buck reached out and wrapped the tie around Eddie's neck and tucked it under the collar of his jacket. His nimble fingers worked the tie into the intricate knot, and Eddie was fighting back the urge he felt to lunge forward and attack Buck’s lips in a kiss, which was more and more difficult to refrain from everytime Buck's fingers grazed the skin of his neck. Then all too soon he was done, pulling the tie tight and adjusting the knot against his neck, and his hands were gone and Eddie suddenly felt cold.

“Okay,” Buck clapped his hands, ripping Eddie from his frozen state, “Chris, are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah!” He shouted, pulling himself away from the tree and over to Buck. He lifted his arms up to him again, and again Buck lifted him into his arms without any hesitation and carried him out the door. It always made Eddie's heart flutter when Buck carried his kid like that.

Eddie closed and locked the door behind them, and then skipped ahead to switch Chris's car seat from his truck to Buck’s jeep. While he did he had the thought that he should just get an extra seat for Buck’s jeep, Chris was in there often enough, and that way they wouldn't have to go through switching the seat from his truck to the jeep and back constantly. Maybe he'd go out after Christmas and grab one, Buck would probably like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they got to Abuela’s, the party was already in full swing. The house was packed with Eddie's family who had all flown in for Christmas, as well as some of Abuela and Peppa’s friends from the street, and suddenly Eddie was feeling a lot overwhelmed.

As if Buck could sense it he leaned in closer to Eddie so their shoulders were touching. He gave him a slight nudge and Eddie looked over to him. In that moment he was so thankful that Buck had come with him, because if it wasn't for that smile he was giving Eddie right now, Eddie probably would have grabbed Chris and hightailed it out of there before anyone saw them. But Buck had this supernatural way of calming him with as little as a glance, or a quick brush of their hands. He needed Buck more than he knew, he just wished he could get the courage up to tell him that.

“Ah there are my boys!” They both looked over as Abuela came marching through the crowd toward them, her arms outstretched, and she instantly took Chris into a hug. “Chris, why don't you go into the living room and play with your cousins.”

Chris didn't need to be told twice as he quickly took off to find the other kids, then Abuela moved on to Eddie.

“Edmundo.” She kissed both of his cheeks then moved over to Buck to do the same. “And Evan, mi amor! I didn't know you were coming, but this is such a wonderful surprise! We always love having you.”

“And I love being here,” Buck smiled at her, then leaned in as if he was about to whisper some state secret, and asked, “there are tamales right?”

“Of course, mi amor. And,” Abuela leaned in just the same as Buck had, Eddie laughing to himself as their heads were nearly pressed together, “since I wasn't aware that you were coming tonight, I made an extra batch of them for Eddie to take home for you after the party. They're in the fridge, and you know where the microwave is.”

“You're the best.” Buck fist pumped and leaned in to kiss her cheek again, before backing up to stand beside Eddie.

“Also, Edmundo, you should know your ex-wife is here.” Eddie groaned and leaned a bit further into Buck, and his Abuela grimaced as she added, “And she's been looking for you since she got here, so heads up.”

“Of course she has.” Eddie sighed hard, hoping that she hadn't already gotten her claws into Chris while he wasn't looking. He could feel his anxiety riding up again at the thought, so he looked up to Buck to feel that instantly calming relief, and was met with a smirk and a wink.

Buck then turned back to Abuela as he wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist and pulled him in even closer. “Why is she so eager to see my boyfriend?”

Eddie couldn't help but smile and hide his face a bit in Buck’s collar as he watched Abuela’s eyes widen, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth. “Are you serious?! You two?!”

Both Eddie and Buck nodded with beaming smiles as Eddie answered, “We thought it would be nice to tell everyone at the party tonight. But yeah, us two.”

“Oh dios mio!” She shouted, holding her hands to the sky before going in for more hugs and kisses. “This is fantastic news!”

“See, I told you she'd be happy for us,” Buck said, and completed the fanfair by turning his head and placing a sweet kiss against Eddie's temple.

Abuela squealed when he did, and Eddie blushed impossibly harder, then she turned and took off through the house shouting, “I have so many people to tell!” And then she was gone, Buck and Eddie laughing after her.

The rest of the party went fairly well with little anxiety on Eddie's part, mostly thanks to Buck. Since they had arrived, Buck kept in constant contact with him, either with his arm around his waist or his hand in his, and Eddie was thankful for it.

He spent the better part of the evening introducing Buck to all of his family, so far successfully being able to avoid both his parents and ex-wife, but Eddie just focused on the giddy sensation working through him everytime he announced, “This is my boyfriend, Buck.”

Eventually Chris came looking for them, or rather looking for Buck, and he found them in the dining room. “Buck!” He happily walked over, reaching for Buck's hand to start dragging him back to the living room. “Come do Christmas crafts with me, Abuela wants us to make ornaments for her tree.”

“Alright, buddy, I'm coming.” Then Buck turned back to look at Eddie. “You alright on your own for a bit?”

“Yeah, you guys have fun,” he smiled to reassure Buck, then watched them disappear into the living room hand in hand.

Eddie turned back to the table filled with all his favourite foods cooked by Abuela, and started making himself a small plate, and of course now that he was alone the ambush could begin. As soon as Buck wasn't attached at Eddie's hip anymore, he quickly found himself in the company of his mother.

“What is this I hear about you and someone named Evan?” She sounded just as pleased as he expected her to.

“It's exactly what it sounds like, I'm here with my boyfriend,” he shrugged and moved over to the doorframe so he could lean and watch Buck and Chris at the now designated crafts table in the living room. As soon as Eddie's eyes landed on Buck he looked up, as if sensing Eddie. He gave him a look that asked if he was okay, Buck’s eyes flitting over to his mom for a quick second then back to Eddie. But Eddie waved him off, so Buck smiled and turned his attention back to Chris and the ornament he was making.

While Eddie watched them together he found that, just like every other time he would stand back and not so sneakily spy on them together like this, all of his woes and worries completely melted away. At this moment it was just the three of them, and Eddie was completely content with it being that way for the rest of his life. Him, Chris, and Buck, all together and happy, that was all he wanted for Christmas this year.

He leaned a shoulder on the doorframe, his eyes never leaving either of them, and he couldn't help but laugh when he caught the giant smear of red glitter across one of Buck’s cheeks. Buck was such a big kid, but Eddie wouldn't have him any other way.

“That's him there,” he pointed Buck out to his mother, who he had almost forgotten was still standing beside him, “I can introduce you if you want to meet him. But he doesn't like to be called Evan, it's Buck.”

His mom only scoffed and turned away from Buck. “And you leave him alone with Christopher? Just like that? How well do you even know this man?”

“Mom, I've worked with Buck for years,” he started, honestly a little shocked at her overly aggressive tone, “Buck saved Chris in the tsunami, he picks Chris up from school if I’m busy, watches him if I pick up an overtime shift, he reads to Chris at night for god sake. There is no one in this world I would trust more with my son than Buck. And Chris loves him just as much as I do.”

“You don't love him-”

“Yes, I do,” he stopped her, and no words had ever rang more true, “I love him, and nothing will ever change that.”

“You have a wife, Edmundo,” she all but growled at him.

“I have an ex-wife, Mother,” he shot back, “and she doesn't belong here. She left us, she made her choice.”

“She's family.”

“No she's not,” Eddie shook his head. As far as he was concerned, the day she sent him the divorce papers, she made a definite decision to not be included in the family anymore.

“So, Shannon, the mother of your child, is not family, but this… Buck is?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly, not a doubt in his mind, “Buck is family, he's my family and he's Chris's family. And Abuela and Peppa like him too.”

“Edmundo,” she sighed and crossed her arms, trying out her best disappointed mom look on him, “I will take no more of this nonsense. Talk to your wife and fix this mess!”

“Again, ex-wife, Mom, she is my ex-wife,” Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned back to look at Buck and Chris again, just in time to see Buck use his thumb to smear a matching streak of red glitter straight across Chris's forehead. He couldn't help but laugh helplessly as both of his boys erupted into a fit of giggles where they sat on the floor, tucked under the coffee table, and Buck took out his phone to take a selfie of the two of them in their matching glitter face paint. “And the only mess I have to worry about cleaning up will be Buck and Chris when I get them home later. I have a feeling that glitter isn't going to be coming out of their hair as easily as I hope it will.”

His mother fumed at his nonchalant attitude over the idea of trying to ‘fix things’ with his ex-wife, and as if she had been summoned like the devil himself, Shannon took that moment to start making her way over to them.

His mother caught sight of her as well, then turned fuming eyes on Eddie, he was sure if they could change colour they would be red. “Here she comes. Fix it, Edmundo, I mean it!” Then she walked away, as if threatening him and giving them privacy was going to change anything.

“Eddie,” Shannon sneered as she came to take up the place his mother had just left.

“Shannon,” he snipped back.

She took a moment to eye him up and down, then crossed her arms over her chest. “I hear you've brought a man with you to the party.”

“I have brought my boyfriend with me to the party, that is correct. His name is Buck.”

She scoffed, much in the same way his mother had when Eddie had corrected her only minutes ago, adding in a shake of her head.

“What was that for?” Eddie asked, though he was sure he could figure it out without much help.

“You don't have a boyfriend, Eddie.” He just made a face at her, letting her continue with her bullshit explanation of why she knew he wouldn't have a boyfriend. “I don't believe a word of this, you don't like men.”

“Is it really that hard to believe I've found happiness in someone that's not you? Not that we were all that happy when we were together.”

She glared at him for a moment before deciding to ignore that last comment. “You're not gay, Eddie. We have a kid, we were married, you've never shown any interest in men before, so I find it awfully convenient that you find out I'm coming to the party and suddenly you have a boyfriend that no one knew about.”

Eddie shrugged and nodded, “First off, you're right about some things. You're right about the fact that im not gay, but there are plenty of other ways to identify what I am, maybe I’m bi. Second, why would I have ever told you if I did have any interest in men, that's absolutely none of your business. And third, Buck is my boyfriend, I love him very much, and if you don't like it or don't believe it, then frankly that's your problem.”

She didn't say anything, just crossed her arms tighter over her chest and deepened her scowl.

Wanting to just get this ridiculous charade over with and get down to the real reason for her being here, he asked, “Have you seen Christopher yet?” Though he already knew the answer.

“No, there's something I wanted to talk to you about first.”

Ah, and there it was. Eddie knew there was something behind this visit, something that she had been scheming for this entire time. He also knew that she would go right to him, because she knew full well that if she so much as attempted to try and use Chris to get to him, the answer would be no before she even asked. So here they were, the real reason for her sudden need to be included in family events.

“So talk,” he said, eyes still on his two boys at the table.

“Look,” she shifted, trying to get in his line of sight, between him and his boys, “my parents were pissed when they found out that you and I split up-”

“You mean when you left us,” he gestured between himself and Chris and then shook his head at her, “we didn't split up, that was all you.”

“Whatever,” she waved a hand in his face, “this isn't about that. You know how traditional my parents are, and the point is they are not happy at all. I spoke to them about a month ago and they said that they discussed my failed marriage, and told me they have made the decision that if I don't get myself sorted out and fix my marriage, be a good mother to my son, then they are going to cut me off and write me out of their will. So-”

“Okay, wait a second,” he stopped her, holding his own hand in front of her face, “let me just get this straight here. What it sounds like to me is that you want me to let go of everything I have here right now, that being my happiness with Buck, and just let you waltz right back into my and Christopher’s lives like nothing even happened?! So that you can, what, fake your way through being a happy, devoted wife? A good mom? All of this ridiculous charade you want us to play, just so you don't lose your inheritance?! You want me and Chris to take you back for money?!”

“I…” She struggled for what to say next, Eddie assumed trying to come up with some kind of excuse to make it sounds less snake-like then it did, but in the end she just went with the truth, probably knowing Eddie would see right through it anyway. “I want my inheritance, okay. It's going to be a lot of money, and I want it, this is the only way I can get it. And if you do this, when the time comes and I can collect my inheritance, I will give you ten percent of whatever I get. After that, you and Christopher can go your own way, and I will go mine.”

“Are you seriously trying to bribe me?!” Eddie balked at her, his plate falling out of his hand and landing at his feet. He was yelling now, but he hadn't noticed that the entire house around them had gone silent, all eyes on them. “I knew you were a cold hearted bitch, but I never thought you'd stoop this low!”

“It's going to be a lot of money, Eddie,” she tried to reiterate to him, as if it was going to change his mind somehow, “surely you could use that money to pay off Christopher's medical expenses when I do finally get that money.”

“I can't believe you right now!”

There was suddenly a solid presence at his side then, a familiar one, which he leaned into as if it was already muscle memory to do so. Buck. He had obviously heard the commotion, as had the entire house more than likely, and he was now beside him with an arm around his waist, firmly anchoring him, instantly calming him.

The entire thing earned a scoff from Shannon who was just shaking her head as she watched them.

“Babe, you alright?” Buck asked, pulling Eddie closer against him.

Eddie caught Shannon’s head shaking out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't even find it in himself to care. The thrill it sent through his body to hear Buck call him babe was enough to have him forgetting the entire world. Not to mention that Buck’s scent was surrounding him, all over him, and he couldn't help but turn and nuzzle his nose into Buck's neck. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Buck smiled down at Eddie, even lifted his chin a bit to give Eddie more access so he could breathe him in as much as he wanted. Then Shannon was suddenly in his line of sight, trying to weasel her way between them. “Hi,” she grunted out, shoving her hand close to Buck’s chest, “I’m Shannon, I'm Eddie's wif-”

“Ex-wife,” he corrected her before she could even finish, shocking her back a few steps, “yeah, I know who you are.” Then buck turned more into Eddie, lifting his chin with his fingers to look onto his eyes. “You sure you're alright?”

Eddie beamed up at Buck, having completely forgotten all about Shannon and her outrageous offer, and was even more blissed out when Buck brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “Yeah, I'm fine now, Buck.”

“Good,” Buck smiled down at him, then leaned in and engulfed him in the tightest and most secure hug of his life, and whispered in his ear, “trust me and follow my lead?”

Eddie gave him an almost imperceptible nod, then let Buck pull back, but he only pulled back just enough to see his face. They were still close, still wrapped in each other's arms, then Buck leaned in and captured Eddie's lips in a soft kiss. It was as perfect as Eddie had always imagined it would be. Their lips slotted together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other. And the way Buck wound his arms around Eddie's back, pulling him in as close as he could possibly get him, every inch of them touching, Eddie was sure he was in heaven.

Eddie slid his hands up Buck’s muscled shoulders and wrapped around his neck, arching into the kiss. Then suddenly they heard the slam of a door behind them and they parted for just a moment. Eddie shook out of his daze and realized that Shannon was no longer standing beside him, though to be completely honest, he had forgotten about her the second Buck's lips touched his. He quickly peered around Buck and toward the front door, Abuela was standing there with a beaming smile on her face giving Eddie a double thumbs up.

Eddie scoffed a laugh at her then turned back to Buck, their noses touching again, and breathed, “Buck, she left, Shannon’s gone,” yet he couldn't find it in himself to let go of the grip he had on Buck’s neck, especially when Buck was showing no signs of moving either.

Buck just shrugged and smiled, then his eyes darted back down to Eddie's lips. Before he knew it, Buck was on him again, kissing him harder and deeper than before. Then Buck’s tongue slid across Eddie's bottom lip and he eagerly parted his lips for him. Their tongues danced and Eddie licked into Buck’s mouth just as enthusiastically as Buck was licking into his. And Eddie found he didn't care who was watching or how many of his family members were around them, because this was the best night of his life, and even though it was all fake, Eddie figured it wouldn't hurt to pretend it wasn't for just a little while longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Midnight rolled around before they knew it, and Chris had long since passed out on the floor in a pile of his cousins. Buck had insisted on carrying him out to the car. They were stopped at the door by Abuela for a kiss goodnight for Buck, and a kiss on the cheek for the still sleeping Chris in Buck’s arms.

“I'll take him to the jeep and get it started, take your time,” he said to Eddie, then smiled at Abuela one more time as he passed by, “good night, Abuela, thanks for the great party.”

“Good night, Buck,” she said as he passed her and headed out the door, then she turned to Eddie and engulfed him in a hug, “Edmundo, I am so happy you're finally happy. I could always tell you never were with Shannon, but when you're with Buck I can see true happiness in your eyes, and Christopher adores him. He is a wonderful man, Edmundo.”

Eddie looked out to the jeep and watched Buck ever so gently place Chris in the carseat in the back, then placed a blanket over Chris and leaned in to kiss his forehead before hopping into the front seat. “Yeah,” Eddie smiled fondly, “he is pretty great.”

“You better hold onto that one, Mejo,” she patted his arm, “he's a very, very good man, and they don't come around all too often anymore.”

Eddie nodded to her, she definitely wasn't wrong, Buck was one in a million.

He gave her one more hug and took the container of extra tamales she had packed away for Buck, then headed out to the jeep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't take long before they were pulling into Eddie's driveway. Chris was still dead to the world in the backseat, so Eddie decided it would be safe to give Buck the full explanation in regards to Shannon’s scheme.

“I can't believe she tried to bribe you, and pulling Chris and his medical bills into her messed up plan,” he shook his head as he put the jeep into park, “that's crazy.”

“No kidding,” Eddie scoffed, then got out of the car. He walked back and opened Chris’s door to start getting him out of the car seat, but Buck moved him out of the way insisting on carrying Chris inside.

As they walked up the steps to the house and Eddie let them inside, Buck took a chance and said, “Honestly, Eds, it's probably a lot better that you and Chris were able to get away from that. You guys are better off without that much negativity in your lives.”

“You are not wrong. And you know,” he said as he closed the door and followed Buck down the hall to Chris's room, “the whole time she was there she never even said hi to Chris. I asked her if she was going to and she had zero interest, all she cared about was trying to find a way to get her money. I knew she was up to something, I just knew it.”

“Good thing I came with you, then. Hopefully she wont bother you anymore, especially now that she thinks you have a smokin’ hot firefighter boyfriend.”

“Don’t let that go to your head, Buck,” Eddie laughed, “and don’t even try to sound intimidating, you’re a giant teddy bear.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, “But I at least look intimidating right?”

Eddie could only smile fondly at him and roll his eyes. Once they got to Chris's room, he stood back and watched as Buck gently laid Chris back in his bed. He pulled the blankets up and over him, then leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on his head before whispering, “Good night buddy, and merry Christmas.”

It was such a sweet and heart melting sight, Eddie wished he could see it every night. That it would just be commonplace for the two of them to tuck Chris into bed each night, then head off down the hall to go to bed themselves, wrapped up in each other.

Eddie crossed the room and kissed his son good night as well, then he and Buck left his room and made their way back to the front door. And suddenly, it was awkward.

The crushing weight of the situation and the realization that, as much as Eddie did not want it to be, the fantasy was over. Buck would go home, probably have Christmas with Maddie and Eddie would spend Christmas with Christopher. Then they would go back to normal, like none of it had ever happened, like they hadn't… had never kissed.

“So uh,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, deciding it was best to just get it over with and cause himself as little pain as possible, “thanks for coming with me tonight. You were right, it did solve my problem with Shannon and my mom, and Chris was very happy that you were there. He had a great time, and it would seem you did as well if all this glitter is anything to go by.” Eddie reached out and ran his thumb over the now hardened patch of glitter on his forehead and Buck laughed. “Good luck getting it all out of your hair, by the way.”

Buck chuckled again. “And did you have a good time? You know, despite the whole Shannon thing.”

“Yeah, I did,” and it wasn't a lie, “it was probably the best time I've had at a family event like that in years.”

“Good.”

They smiled at each other, and it was once again awkward. They stood and shuffled their feet for a few minutes, neither of them really knowing what to say or what to do, and all Eddie could think about was that kiss back at the party. He wanted more of that now, but he didn't know if Buck…

“I, uh…” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck and stepping out the door, “I better get going. It's late and I'm sure the little man will have you up bright and early to see what Santa brought him.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled and ran a hand down his face, “crack of dawn every Christmas morning.”

“Well, you better go get some sleep then,” Buck smiled and started down the porch steps, “merry Christmas, Eds.”

“Merry Christmas, Buck.”

Eddie stood at the door and watched Buck get back in his jeep, and waited until he drove down the road and out of sight before he closed the door. Suddenly he felt empty. In a way, watching Buck drive away was like the final straw in the end of this fantasy. It was over, the kiss was a mere tactic to scare away Shannon, and it had worked exactly as they had planned. But Eddie didn't want it to be over, he didn't want to go back to being just Eddie and Buck, best friends and co-workers. Tonight was a great night, he hadn't felt so free and happy and himself in such a long time, and now he was going to have to spend the rest of his life trying to accept that fact that he would probably never have that feeling again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sure enough Christopher was jumping on top of him as soon as the first hint of sunlight was peeking through his curtains. But he was exhausted. He barely slept, all he could think about all night long was Buck, and all he could dream about was that kiss. But Chris was pulling on his arm and squealing about Santa, so as the good dad he is, he forced himself out of bed and let Chris drag him to the living room.

Chris lost his mind as soon as he saw the heap of presents under the tree, and hurried over to sit in front of it while Eddie took a detour to make coffee. He quickly downed one cup, then poured himself another before going over to the couch to watch Chris open his gifts.

“Hey, Dad,” he turned back to look at Eddie, “can open one of the presents from Buck?”

“Yeah, buddy, of course.”

He grabbed the biggest one that said ‘To: Chris, From: Buck’ and ripped into it. It was a huge fire station that had all the bells and whistles, literally, it made all the sounds, and it came with two fire trucks and a few firefighter figurines.

“Wow, Dad, look! Just like you and Buck!”

“You'll have to thank Buck the next time you see him.”

Chris turned back to the gift he had just opened and was suddenly a bit sullen. “I had fun with Buck last night, I wish he was here now.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, leaning further into the side of the couch, “I wish that too, buddy.”

The doorbell had the both shaken out of their momentary sorrow, and both turned toward the door. Eddie looked at the time on his phone and made a very confused face. Who in their right mind would be at his door on Christmas morning, at not even seven am?

“Do you think it's Abuela?” Chris asked with a bit more excitement than he had a few seconds ago. “She said she was going to come over to see my presents.”

“Maybe, I just didn't think she would be coming over this early.” He got up to open the door, a little startled when whoever it was rang the bell a second time then immediately resorted to knocking. “Okay, okay, I'm coming… jeeze.”

He opened the door ready to give whoever was so rudely interrupting their Christmas morning a piece of his mind, but he was stunned out of words when he found Buck standing in front of him, looking an odd mix of bewildered and nervous.

Eddie gave him a quick once over, taking in the disheveled mess of his hair, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed and ran here. “Buck, what-”

“Don't…” Buck held both of his hands up, stopping Eddie in his tracks, “don't talk, I just… I just need to try something.”

Eddie obliged, but Buck just stepped inside the house without another word. He just stood there, staring down Eddie, when suddenly he just decided to go for it and lunged forward. He grabbed Eddie's face in both of his hands and kissed him, and it was even more electric then it had been at the party. Eddie couldn't help but wrap himself into Buck, pulling him as close as he could get him, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He hummed into the kiss as Buck tilted his head and deepened it, licking into Eddie’s mouth with a fire that shot through his entire body. Then just as quickly as it had started, Buck pulled back.

His hands were still holding Eddie's face close to his own, their panted breaths mixing between them. Buck just stared at him with this look of pure love in his eyes, and when he couldn't seem to find any words, Eddie breathed out, “Me too, Buck.”

Buck just smiled and lunged forward to taked Eddie's lips again, and moved his hands to wrap around Eddie's waist as tightly as he could manage.

Eddie had never been happier, this was real, their fake date ended as soon as Buck stepped outside his door last night. So this, everything Eddie had ever dreamed of having, was finally all his.

“Does this mean Buck can live here now?!” Chris asked excitedly from the living room, and both Buck and Eddie just smiled into the kiss and held each other tighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Part three of Buddie Ficmas 2022! I hope you guys enjoyed this one! If anyone wants to be tagged for the future Buddie Ficmas posts, let me know and I would love to tag you. And as always, thanks for reading <3

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at0micc0la · 2 years

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Quackity's Radio

Living in Karmaland is a nice experience, yes, the people here can be really annoying (cofcof Rubius cofcof), but the man was able to live comfortable. Even without a house, life was kind most of the time.

In the city he got used to live with Rubius some weeks, then go to stay with Luzu and building his house (again). Some days he just helped other citizens with chores to earn some money, but he whined to his friends about it at the end of the day.

One day after helping Merlon, the old man sent him on a mission a few times away, nothing too dangerous 'cause the man had a hard time when it came to fights, Merlon invited him to drink a cup of tea

"I'm sorry, young hero, some pillagers stole my diamonds and emeralds, father Alexby is taking care of them" the man carefully put a cup of tea in front of the young man who was cursing him

'Pinche viejo, me hace viajar un día completo y ni paga me da, que sea mexicano no significa que sea esclavo, cabrón' [Translation: fucking old man, he makes me travel a whole day and he can't even pay! I'm mexicam but that doesn't mean that you can take advantage of me, asshole]

"But I can re pay you with some artifacts I gathered" the man stood up from the chair, he barely sat for two seconds and was already moving to another room "Come with me, boy"

"Fuckin' nasty old man, Ay Dios! Hope he doesn't kill me" the man grumbled through his teeth, following the man, not before sending a text to Rubius saying 'I think Merlon will kill me or fuck me...' and the half bear man just responded with a 'xd. enjoy'

"They're a little old but I clean them at least once a month, I'll let you be, I need to finish my tea" The man left Quackity by himself not knowing what to do, he shyly got close to the artifacts playing with all of them, breaking some in the process and hiding them in the furthest part of a box.

"Gosh, this is getting tedious. I need music for times like this" Quackity grumbled and sat on the floor, peaking the boxes and getting pissy beacuse he should be at home or stealing Rubius food or cuddling with Luzu but no, he needed to choose an artifact as a payment "Wait! I can choose one without looking and just leave" the idea cheered up the man, even if part of him wanted something useful, he wanted to do something else.

So he just took the first thing that he touched, and when he saw what he took he was fascinated. A small radio was the mysterious object, so he inspected it, to see if at least it worked and thanks to the Gods it did.

The radio played just old songs, romantic mexican ballads that reminded him if home, of abuela Coco and his cousins. He remembered the morning drinking chocolate next to Beni and Cochi, enjoying being kids.

"Hey, grampa" Quackity shout to Merlon, while playing with some funny buttons "I'm taking this little radio" when he let the button go he heard his voice repeting what he just said

"Oh, the old radio" the man fixed his glasses "It's an amazing artifact, take care of it"

Quackity left Merlon's house, the little radio playing Chente as loud as it could. The boy couldn't leave for an adventure without that little radio, sometimes he used it to make fun of his friends or just to de-stress. Merlon payed him a few days later the money he couldn't pay him for the mission and a little bit more for the inconvenience, but Quackity wasn't really interest in the money that much, well, he was interested because he was poor at the momento, but he was really thankfull of the radio who became his companion.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

a/n: Sorry, didn't proof read it, but this is a headcanon that I love and never wrote about it. In this house we love Karmaland Quackity and his love for old mexican music

#quackity #quackity blurb #karmaland #karmaland fic

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thefvrious · 1 year

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@ghostsxagain sent -> santiago & miki

☀️ » what was your character’s first impression of their partner ? miki was the first member of los lobos that santi met, so i imagine he had quite the impact on the younger man. i'm sure he saw strength and independence, a sense of commanding respect that he wanted. 🍯 » what trait does your character admire the most about their partner ? his strength and his ability to lead. ⚡ » who spends more time on the phone ? definitely santiago. ✏️ » who takes longer to text back ? mik, the prick >:[ 💡 » what’s the first movie / tv show your pairing saw ? scream 4! it was definitely a date, even if miki says it wasn't. 🐣 » who has the best style ? i think santi cares more about how he looks most of the time -- he wants to be handsome and desired, and not look like the other guys in the club. so, santi. 🔑 » who is the better driver ? santiago is not an excellent driver. when we're talking about cars. as for bikes? miguel's been doing it longer, but santi knows a few more tricks [he's reckless like that] ⭐ » what are three things that your pairing have in common ? heritage, capacity and proclivity toward violence, unstoppable passion.

🌩 » how does your character calm their partner when they are angry ? this is a joke. they don't calm each other down, they rile each other up. 🌼 » who was the first to say i love you ? stupidly, my poor son santiago. 🧀 » who is the better cook ? miguel has tricks he learned from his abuela, but they're both pretty good in the kitchen. santi will take miki's homemade tortillas any day, though. 🌻 » who is the better listener ? santi, easily. most of the time, he's convinced miki isn't even listening to him. ✨ » what is your pairing’s favourite thing to do together ? lol, this is very crude, but fuck. ⚠️ » who has the crazier family ? based on sheer size and statistics, santi.

🌙 » what are your character’s love languages –– gifts , affection , words ? for miki, specifically, it's affection. 🌤 » how long has your pairing been together ? NOT together for about twelve years. 💛 » who says i love you more often ? santiago definitely doesn't say it often, but ii think he's the only one who does say it. 😭 » who is most likely to forget an anniversary ? there is no anniversary, but miki. i feel like he's gotten the amount of years they've known each other 'wrong' on purpose just to cut. 🍌 » what is your pairing’s favourite place ? naked somewhere together :c

#santiago moreno ~ about #santiago x miki #ghostsxagain #ship tag tbd

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trashcatsnark · 2 years

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💻and 🔮 tea please!!!

Ooooh, thank you for the ask anon!!!!

Judy

The two don't hit it off immediately, both have very different interests and sometimes outlooks, but also are very stubborn and not afraid to assert themselves. At first when Judy was concerned about Arasaka coming against her for the heist, Aidan was rolling her eyes because - sure, techie in a basement who scrolled a bd for me- you're in just as much danger as I am here.

This rub only gets worse once everything went to shit. Aidan does not respond well to Judy blaming her for the heist and her friends- because fuck you, Aidan is already blaming herself enough. But Judy is lashing out because shes hurt and Aidan is lashing out cause shes hurt. They're both just hurt.

They leave that convo angry, Judy doesnt bother to ask Aidan to call her if she hears anything- but Aidan texts her. Not because she promised, or because Judy asked, but because it felt right. And that's the first seed of oh- she may be nicer than I thought.

Then she sees Aidan find Fingers just as disgusting as she does. Sees Aidan fight to find out where Evelyn is. And when they get to the Scavenger den- Aidan is downright protective of Judy, insisting she clear out the gangs members before Judy comes in.

Aidan is acutely aware that Judy isnt a merc, not a solo- she's not weak, but her talents lay elsewhere. Shes a techie, a tinkerer, an editor- she doesn't get her hands dirty in the same way Aidan is accustomed. And the last thing Aidan wants is another person dying because of her negligence. So, this little protective streak starts to form.

And then Evelyn is saved tho in rough shape, again Judy sees this compassion in Aidan that she didn't expect of a merc. Judy may not be hands on with violence, but she's been through the ringer. She's had to hold her own in her own way. She's used to feeling like she's the only person in a room who cares about anything other than herself. She expected, like most mercs that Aidan would be cruel and callous, apathetic. But here she is risking her neck for Evelyn, protecting Judy, worrying, fretting asking over and over like a mantra will she be okay? Even if neither of them know the answer. And yeah, maybe V wanted intel about the heist- but she cares. And when everything feels cold and cruel, that feels like a fucking relief.

And when she leaves Evelyn to take a bath while she goes to the gas station to consider buying a pack of cigarettes for the twelfth time that week and comes back to find the door is locked tight, Evelyn wont respond, and something is wrong, god she can feel something is wrong- Aidan's the first person she calls. Because she knows she'll care. She knows she'll do something. Even if all she can do is rip open the locked door and pull whats left of Evelyn out of a bloody tub.

And she does just that.

Aidan at her core with Judy, wants to be there for her and wants to help her. Because Aidan knows how much she lost in this mess too and theres an innate kinship that creates. Both connected by tragedy and loss. So she does what she can, comes when she calls, fights for Clouds, promises camping trips, and aquarium visits - even shows out of the blue with a frog plushie because she saw Judy's abuela calls her ranita on a postcard.

She's observant, she cares, and by god Judy cannot fight the crush she is developing on this merc. And Aidan also likes the way Judy sees her, treats her- looks at her like she's a good person, but Aidan knows shes not. Sometimes in her more self destructive moments, feels the need to remind Judy. Remind Judy that shes a merc, a murderer, she has injuries from stabbing people, there is blood beneath her nails and none of it is hers. And sometimes it feels like Judy doesnt get the gravity of this, that Aidan isn't a good person- shes good to Judy. And she worries that once that settles in Judy will be hurt.

But truthfully, Judy is conscious of what Aidan does and who she is- knows why the merc wasnt shaking the same way she was when they killed Woodman. And sometimes that does bother her. But in a world that feels cruel and callous, that tells her to keep Evelyn's body on ice while she waits days for it to be collected, a world that tells her that her friends are disposable because of what they do for a living- Aidan feels warm and kind and good, a needed a respite, someone who cares- and Judy refuses to believe that doesn't make her a good person.

Misty

The moment Jackie brought this little puppy dog of a merc into Misty shop- she was ecstatic. Her aura is phenomenal, most of her chakras are blocked but they can work on that. Also, shes a Scorpio but- no one's perfect. Honestly, I feel like Jackie would be a little nervous about introducing them because while Misty's never been the jealous type saying "Hey, here's this girl who invited into my home, who Im sharing a room, and bed with- also shes a short blonde just like you" feels like walking into a minefield. But Misty is just excited to have a friend, excited to see Jackie having a partner who gets the merc aspects of his life. Something she can't really do.

And Aidan thinks Misty is very odd, Aidan admittedly doesnt buy into spiritual stuff much, but Misty is so sweet and so nice and showed Aidan her pet rats- because Misty would have pet rats- look at her- and hey, it doesn't hurt to play along.

They form a quick and sweet bond- Misty worries about Aidan the way she worries about Jackie. Their work is dangerous and Misty wants her to be safe. Plus, Aidan doesn't let people in quite the same way Jackie does which is an extra worry.

This particular worry exacerbates when everything happens. Aidan doesnt check in much, doesnt talk about her feelings much. And Misty thinks that Aidan doesnt fully realize just how many care about her. How many friends she has and just how hard she is not to care about. Plus, if Misty's being honest she wishes Aidan would stop in more because- it'd be nice not to grieve alone.

Aidan, following everything has a hard time seeing Misty- she still checks in occasionally and talks but, it's hard. She feels like she let her down, like its her fault hes gone, and like Misty and Vik see her as already gone herself. Misty is so kind and sweet and compassionate and Aidan feels like she just destroyed her life because she couldn't save Jackie.

At the ofrenda, things get a little easier in some ways. Misty is allowed the chance to fully weep and grieve and be held, to not be the rock for once. Aidan holding her as they lay in Jackie's bed, mourning together. And Misty reminds Aidan again, she isn't alone.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #judy alvarez #misty olszewski #me: i dont really ship judy and aidan much probably the least of the LIs #also me: oh my god im so soft for them oh my god oh my god #aidan becker

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terinour · 1 year

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Abuela

The owl turned its head and stared at him. The wind rushed between the cold stones. The steles, turned towards the moon, seemed to whisper. He slid, as if in slow motion, between two vaults. His raincoat caressed the rusty grills. The owl landed further away and hooted for a long time. It was impossible to tell which of the two was following the other.

At the back of the cemetery was a mound decorated with symbols. The man raised his hands, palms facing him. He watched the lines drawn in the stone and those that crossed on his skin. Was he trying to decrypt the pattern imprinted in his flesh from the drawings engraved in the rock, or the opposite? Was he looking for an analogy, a secret message? His grandmother, his "abuela", had once told him about these lines with evocative names: line of the heart, of the head, of life and of destiny.

The man nodded to the owl and turned around. The bird began to preen its feathers. In front of the cemetery gate a car was idling. The young woman inside said to him: - What were you doing? We are late! - I was looking for something... - On old stones? - The words, in the end, are of little importance. It is their meaning that counts, just like the essence of beings and things...

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow: - Is that an epitaph you read on a tomb? - No, it just came to mind.

She turned her head and put her hands on her round belly - I'm tired

He started the car and glanced in the rearview mirror. The owl was watching them drive away.

They arrived at the family home at the time when the crickets were singing. The weather was heavy but something seemed to hold back the storm. Estelle went to bed.

Diego asked his mother: - How is the abuela?

She shook her head and pursed her lips: - She will leave soon, go see her. She's waiting for you.

It was Diego who had given her this nickname. Perhaps because she had been a healer - a "rebouteuse" as the locals called her. She had a special place in the family. She was from the public assistance system, born of unknown parents, abandoned to life. She had no origins, which only added to the mystery that surrounded her. The "abuela" translated this perfectly.

Diego approached the bed. The room was in darkness. - Abuela?

She turned her wrinkled face and stared at him with her piercing eyes. Diego said to her: - I wish I had the "gift" too - to heal people.

She put her hand on his and spoke, in a hoarse, almost faded voice: - Relax. This gift is in all of us. It is one thing to care for the body and physical suffering, but to touch a soul is just as important. And you have this gift. - How so? - You are a poet Diego, your sensitivity allows you to soothe souls. Why do you want to be someone other than yourself? There are a thousand and one ways to help. Everyone must do it in his own way. It is here, now, that your refuge must be, the place where everything becomes clear.

Something changed in Diego at that moment and the abuela felt it: - So now I can leave in peace - Abuela, why? - The life passes. It seems to slip through our fingers. Often it appears to us as an impetuous torrent, that no one can stop. We feel like we are on a raft that could capsize at any moment. We are afraid. However, if we manage to keep calm, we know what we have to do. Then the waves calm down. This is the last stage, the moment when we realize that the agitation is an illusion. It is in our mind, not around us.

The abuela caught her breath: - This is the end of my journey Diego. Everything is calm. I can see the island of immortality. A crane is hovering above.

She looked up and stood still. Diego gritted his teeth.

He passed a trembling hand over his eyes. "Thank you, abuela". He felt nothing but gratitude for the one who had just given him the secret of eternal life. He bowed his head in contemplation.

The storm broke.

Teri Nour

Note: I had translated my own text below in french. I apologize for this appoximative translation. Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

Abuela

Le hibou tourna la tête et le fixa. Le vent s’engouffrait entre les pierres froides. Les stèles, tournées vers la lune, semblaient murmurer. Il glissa, comme dans un ralenti, entre deux caveaux. Son imperméable caressait des grilles rouillées. Le hibou alla se poser plus loin et hulula longuement. Impossible de savoir lequel des deux suivait l’autre.

Au fond du cimetière se trouvait un tumulus orné de symboles. L’homme leva ses mains, paumes tournées vers lui. Il observa les lignes tracées dans la pierre et celles qui se croisaient sur sa peau. Cherchait-il à décrypter le motif imprimé dans sa chair à partir des dessins gravés dans la roche, ou l’inverse ? Cherchait-il une analogie, un message secret ? Sa grand-mère, son « abuela », lui avait un jour parlé de ces lignes portant des noms évocateurs : ligne du cœur, de la tête, de la vie et du destin.

L’homme salua le hibou en lui faisant un signe de tête et se retourna. L’oiseau se mit à lisser ses plumes. Devant la grille du cimetière une voiture tournait au ralenti. La jeune femme qui se trouvait à l’intérieur lui lança :

– Mais qu’est-ce que tu faisais ? Nous sommes en retard !

– Je cherchais quelque chose…

– Sur des vieilles pierres ?

– Les mots, en fin de compte, ont peu d’importance. C’est leur sens qui compte, tout comme l’essence des êtres et des choses…

Elle le toisa en soulevant un sourcil :

– C’est une épitaphe que tu as lu sur un tombeau ?

– Non ça vient juste de me venir à l’esprit

Elle tourna la tête et posa ses mains sur son ventre rond

– Je suis fatiguée

Il démarra et jeta un regard dans le rétroviseur. Le hibou les regardait partir.

Il arrivèrent à la maison de famille à l’heure où les grillons chantaient. Le temps était lourd mais quelque chose semblait retenir l’orage. Estelle alla se coucher. Diego demanda à sa mère :

– Comment va la abuela ?

Elle secoua la tête en se pinçant les lèvres :

– Elle va bientôt partir, va la voir. Elle t’attend.

C’est Diego qui lui avait trouvé ce surnom. Peut-être parce qu’elle avait été guérisseuse – rebouteuse – comme disaient les gens d’ici. Elle avait une place à part dans la famille. Elle était de l’assistance publique, née de parents inconnus, abandonnée à la vie. Elle était sans origines, ce qui ne faisait qu’accroître le mystère qui planait autour d’elle. La « abuela » traduisait cela à merveille.

Diego s’approcha du lit. La pièce était dans la pénombre.

– Abuela ?

Elle tourna son visage ridé et le fixa avec ses yeux perçants. Diego lui dit :

– J’aurai tellement aimé avoir le « don », moi aussi – celui de soigner les gens

Elle posa sa main sur la sienne et parla, d’une voix rauque, presque éteinte :

– Détrompes toi. Ce don est en chacun de nous. S’occuper du corps et des souffrances physiques est une chose, mais toucher une âme est tout autant important. Et ce don-là, tu le possèdes

– Comment cela ?

– Tu es un poète Diego, ta sensibilité permet de soulager les âmes. Pourquoi veux-tu être quelqu’un d’autre que toi-même ? Il y a mille et une façons d’aider. Chacun doit le faire à sa manière. C’est ici, maintenant, que doit être ton refuge, le lieu où tout devient clair.

Quelque chose changea en Diego à cet instant et la abuela le ressentit :

– Alors maintenant je peux partir en paix

– Abuela, pourquoi ?

– La vie file. Elle semble nous glisser entre les doigts. Souvent elle nous apparaît comme un torrent impétueux, que nul ne peut arrêter. On a l’impression d’être sur un radeau qui peut chavirer à tout moment. On a peur. Pourtant, si l’on parvient à conserver son calme, on sait ce que l’on a à faire. Alors les flots se calment. C’est la dernière étape, le moment où l’on se rend compte que l’agitation est une illusion. Elle est dans notre esprit, pas autour de nous.

La abuela reprit son souffle :

– Voilà le terme de mon voyage Diego. Tout est calme. Je peux apercevoir l’île de l’immortalité. Une grue plane tout là haut.

Elle leva les yeux et s’immobilisa. Diego serra les dents.

Il passa une main tremblante sur ses yeux. « Merci abuela ». Il n’éprouvait que gratitude pour celle qui venait de lui donner le secret de la vie éternelle. Il baissa la tête en signe de recueillement.

L’orage éclata.

le 1er juin 2021

#short stories #writing #écriture

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chicago-geniza · 2 years

Text

Bothering the Polish Library of London about Stefania's Holocaust novel again

"Dzień dobry,

Chciałabym jeszcze raz o to zapytać, bo naprawdę trudno jest znaleźć 'Ofiarę' poza Polską czy Londynem, a byłabym bardzo wdzięczna.

Pozdrawiam,

Raisa"

#grzegorz answer my email!!!!!!!!#stefania tag #ofiara tag #is London just spelled the English way po polsku now am I aging myself by doing this #who cares I text like an abuela

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amynchan · 2 years

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Everyone's got a right to their own experience with characters.

Like, it's more than an opinion. People experience things when they're faced with characters that act a certain way. Characters are often exaggerated in order to help the story along, and stories are meant to affect people, so good characters affect people. Some of the effects are intentional, some of them aren't, and it's 100% okay that people have a different experience than you.

Like, when I was watching Encanto, I was so excited for Abuela to come talk to Mirabel. To me, that was a step towards healing. Abuela knew where Mirabel had gone and had actually gone to talk to her. Not only that, Abuela was being real and ate her own words of her own volition. That was amazing for me, who doesn't see that happen a whole lot and wishes to high heaven that it would happen more often, and I was thrilled. However, my siblings, who've had older people come to talk to them when they just wanna be left alone, immediately wanted Abuela to fall into a ditch. They wanted Mirabel to get angry and stand up for herself and defend her worth and her actions.

Neither of these interpretations are the wrong way to interact with Abuela because our difference didn't mean that we instantly hated each other. Instead, it was kinda fascinating to see where they were coming from because I'd never seen someone actively coming up to you and being straight up as a bad thing, and I hope they thought my POV was at least a little interesting. We didn't belittle each other or call each other names or accuse one another of being xyz because we interacted with a set of characteristics differently from one another.

Characters are characters. Good characters—not "moral" or "righteous" or "best," but "good"—make the audience feel things.

In Fruits Basket, Shigure makes me so infuriated because I met him when I was wrestling with this gray morality thing. I know several people who love him and his conniving little ways. The two reactions can—and, tbh, probably should—coexist in this world.

In Steven Universe, when Pearl and Amethyst fight, their division makes me hurt because I've been drawn to care about both characters. There were lots of people who took Pearl's side. There were lots of people who took Amethyst's. Both could be justifiable, and a lot of people got so invested. Pearl and Amethyst made the audience feel things, and that's kinda the point.

In Modao Zushi, Jiang Cheng is an incredibly divisive character (for good reason!), but he's a good character. Some people hate him and can back that up with the text and their own experiences. Some people love him and can back that up with the text and their own experiences. It's great! It kinda sucks to see an excess of an opposite opinion, but, like, they're allowed to have that. My experience doesn't make yours invalid, and your experience doesn't make mine invalid. They're just... different.

You're allowed to look at the same text, the same character, the same story, and feel different things from another person based on that text, character, and story. It's honestly part of the fun. And if you can't interact with people who hold that different opinion (for literally any reason ranging from "this is my chill spot and I'm not about to argue with somebody over something that doesn't matter" to "the opinion I hold is tied very closely to core aspects of my personality [trauma, strongly held beliefs, etc] and seeing its opposite physically and mentally unsettles me" to "stars. not today."), then that's fine. Block the tags. Ignore. Let it goooooo (had to).

They're characters. We love them, we hate them, they make us feel things, and we sometimes do some self-reflection using them as a guide (I find that this is where a lot of anger comes from? Maybe that's just me.). But we don't have to sit there and accuse someone else that they're xyz for hating/loving/not appreciating a character.

These are stories. These are characters. They may touch on our heartstrings and make our experiences and traumas feel validated, but they do the same thing in different ways for other people. And that's okay.

We can use that to learn about other people instead of immediately condemning them. If you don't want to engage with the other interpretations/experiences, then cool. If you wanna hate a character in peace, just make sure you've got the 'anti-' tag ready to go so people don't walk into your shop ready for something they ain't gonna get.

Just... yeah. Characters, experiences, and fandoms. We don't gotta be at each other's throats all the time.

#Encanto #Abuela #Mirabel #Fruits Basket #FB #Shigure #Shigure Sohma #Steven Universe #SU #Pearl #Amethyst #MDZS #Modao Zushi #Modaozushi #Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #Jiang Cheng #OnTheSeries

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capseycartwright · 3 years

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"I am fed up with half-measures. I deserve better." (Got huge buddie and malex vibes from this one 👀)

ao3 link

The last thing Eddie expected to find at his door was Buck, of all people – not because Buck was an unusual fixture in his home; no, because Buck was supposed to be on a date.

Eddie had been trying his best for weeks now, to be the dutiful best friend, and support Buck’s relationship with Taylor – regardless of how much he wished Buck wasn’t dating anyone else – and it was hard. It was hard, and so Eddie was halfway through a tub of his favourite flavour of ice-cream (the excessively expensive one Buck had introduced him to, the one Eddie only bought when he knew Christopher wasn’t home). He’d also cracked open a bottle of wine Hen and Karen had given him as a thank you for babysitting Denny, one Saturday afternoon (he’d made a mental note to thank Karen – the woman had good taste in wine) and so Eddie was well settled in for an evening of feeling sorry for himself while Christopher was at a sleepover party.

Until – well, Buck decided to bang his door in.

Tucking his ice-cream into the crook of his arm, Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You have a key,” he reminded, looking a frazzled Buck up and down. He was clearly dressed for a date – wearing that blue striped shirt that made Eddie’s mouth water, a neat jacket over the top – but he was also clearly not on said date.

“I have had the worst day,” Buck declared dramatically, kicking his sneakers off in the hallway, brow furrowing as he noticed the bottle of wine on the table. “Do you have company?” he asked, clearly confused – Ana was long gone, to be fair, their relationship having ended weeks previously.

Eddie swallowed, glancing down at his very sad outfit of a pair of raggedy old sweatpants, and a grubby sweatshirt that had definitely seen better days – Eddie wasn’t a sentimental man, really, but Christopher always called it Eddie’s cuddliest sweatshirt, so Eddie didn’t have the heart to throw it out.

“No,” he reassured. “I don’t.”

“Wine, though?”

“Are you questioning my methods of self-care?” Eddie retorted. “I like wine, sue me.”

“All wine tastes the same,” Buck sighed, throwing himself on the couch, reaching for the bottle.

“You can have a glass,” Eddie intervened. “But I will kick you out of my house if you drink directly from that bottle, Buck. I’d like to pretend I have some level of class,” he sighed, padding into the kitchen and grabbing another wine glass – a set Abuela had bought him, when he’d moved to LA. “So,” he said, setting the glass down on the coffee table, pausing to take a scoop of his slowly melting ice-cream before he continued. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are we going to play charades?”

Buck rolled his eyes, but took the wine glass, all the same, pouring himself a generous measure. He took a swig, before he spoke, raising an eyebrow. “Did you pick this out?” he questioned, no doubt thinking back to the evening where Eddie had been in charge of getting wine for their family dinner and had accidentally bought cooking wine. It was an easy mistake to have made, if you asked Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. “Present from Karen and Hen,” he clarified. “Stop deflecting.”

“I broke up with Taylor,” and oh, if Eddie hadn’t been waiting to hear those words for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie tried, because he couldn’t look that happy about it, could he? It would give the game away – and in so many ways, Eddie was convinced his feelings were obvious, that he’d given the game away a long time ago, but Buck had never mentioned it.

“I’m not,” Buck looked furious, again. “I – we had this nice date planned, right? We made sure to pick a night where we were both off, where she doesn’t need to be in work early tomorrow, and I’m off, so we could get breakfast, too – really spend some time together,” he explained. “And I got to the restaurant and I waited, and I waited, and I waited for a fucking hour, Eddie, and nothing – no text, no call from her. I was sitting there, spiralling, wondering if she was – if she was dead, or something. Right? So, after an hour, I decided I was going to pass by the news station, and see what was happening, and do you know what she said?”

Eddie shook his head.

“That she’d told her intern to call me and cancel our date, because a story came up,” Buck practically spat. “I mean, is she serious? And like – I love that she has a career she loves, because she gets how I feel about being a firefighter, but she does this all the time and I just never feel like I’m even getting close to the top of her priority list. So, I – I asked her, if I was ever going to be something she prioritised over work, and she said no.”

Eddie winced. “She was honest, at least,” he tried.

“Totally,” Buck agreed. “And I appreciate the honesty – really – and it’s not like it ended on bad terms. We just didn’t want the same thing out of a relationship, and I’m not going to resent her for it. But – fuck, this is nice wine by the way – I am fed up with half-measures, Eddie,” he sighed, slumping back on the couch. “I deserve better.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Buck did deserve better – and Eddie wasn’t going to sit here and pretend as though he was better, as though he knew he could be boyfriend of the year and give Buck everything he needed. But – Eddie loved him, and surely, surely that had to be enough? It had to be enough to love someone so much it felt like your love for them was etched into the very bones of who you were? Eddie so badly wanted to be enough.

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie said quietly, suddenly conscious of the melting ice-cream he was still gripping tightly. It had cost eleven dollars, he reminded – he should probably put it back in the freezer.

Buck looked at him, utterly confused. “What?”

“I wouldn’t love you in half-measures,” Eddie wasn’t sure where he was finding the bravery, to finally say it, to tell Buck how he felt, but somehow, somewhere, he’d found a bravery he wasn’t sure he’d ever had before. He had thought he’d be spending the rest of his life trundling along, desperately in love with a best friend who didn’t love him back. Eddie had accepted it, almost – because having Buck as a friend was better than not having Buck at all.

Buck’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, and excited. “How would you love me, Eddie?” he asked, his voice soft, and trembling – the only giveaway that he felt as nervous as Eddie did, there and then, dangling on the precipice of something new, and wonderful.

“Forever,” Eddie said. “I’d love you forever, Buck.”

(And when Buck kissed him – he tasted like wine, and Eddie knew he tasted like wine, and Buck’s shirt was soft, under tentative fingertips as Eddie reached out to hold him the way he’d so desperately wanted to for so long, and –

Well, it felt like the beginning of forever.)

send me a prompt from this list

#911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #prompt fill

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oatflatwhite · 3 years

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where the love light gleams

my 911 holiday gift exchange for leah @reindeereddie. merry christmas, my love!

read here on ao3

The lights are Christopher’s idea, brought up over Buck’s mac and cheese one night in early December. It’s Bobby’s mac and cheese, really, taught to a Buck Eddie had never known over countless probie shifts and patient hands on the electric burner—but that night it was Buck’s, because he cooked it here, in Eddie’s kitchen, in the blue casserole dish with white flowers around the rim. All afternoon the house smelled of it, gravitating Chris to the kitchen table to do his homework, Eddie from the laundry where he’d been half-heartedly trying to soak out a red wine stain.

“No luck?” Buck asked, like he genuinely cared about Eddie’s stained tablecloth, which he probably did. He looked earnest over the stovetop, curls cowlicked to his forehead from the steam, and the sight of him in a pink KISS THE COOK apron made Eddie want to do something stupid, like try and tuck his hair behind his ear. “I’d offer to help, but I, uh,” and he flicked a glance over at Chris, making sure his headphones were on, “don’t know shit about laundry. I just avoid red wine.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Eddie replied, dryly. “If only I had my time machine.” He ducked the piece of macaroni Buck lobbed at him in return.

(“Huh,” Buck said, as it stuck fast to the kitchen wall. “Al dente.”)

They ate on the good plates, the ones with pink and gold trim Eddie keeps in the corner cupboard and saves for special occasions. The mac and cheese was perfect, straight from the oven—creamy and warm and filling, just right for a winter’s day. Buck’s ears went red when Eddie told him so, fiddling with the string on his hoodie.

They all had seconds, Eddie talking Chris down from thirds, and it was after, the plates stacked in front of Buck while he psyched himself up to standing, that Christopher asked, “can we see the lights this year?”

Eddie blinked, a little nonplussed. “Sure, bud,” he replied, meeting Buck’s gaze over the table. “But we—we already do that. You didn’t have to ask.”

And Christopher looked at him, exasperated, expression so Buck-like Eddie’s breath caught in his chest. “Can Buck come see the Christmas lights this year?”

Heart, meet throat. Eddie swallowed it down, because God—he wanted. He wanted this Christmas with Buck like he wants every Christmas, lights and the tree and a popcorn to cranberry ratio of 5:1 and trifle soaked in too much alcohol, knees knocking together on Eddie’s second-hand couch while they watch It’s A Wonderful Life. And the thing is—sometimes when Eddie looks at Buck, he thinks maybe he wants that too. But it’s been almost a year since they’ve both been single, eight months since Eddie returned to the 118 and seven since they kissed and made up and Buck hasn’t said a word. He’d slid Eddie’s key back onto his ring and taken Chris to the zoo six times over the summer and helped Eddie build a swing for his back porch and fixed the leaky pipe under Eddie’s abuela’s call-me-Isabel, Buck sink. Eddie buys the brand of oat milk Buck likes even though it’s never on sale and he keeps a tin of green tea by the spice rack and Buck’s favourite mug in the cupboard, the one shaped like a frog he says looks like Eddie. He switched out laundry powders back in June because the one he’d been using gave Buck hives, and Buck pulled him from a collapsing staircase during a five-alarm in September that had Eddie clutching at his elbows so tight they bruised, eyes wide and desperate and blue, still so blue, behind his SCBA. One time Chimney took Eddie’s phone and scrolled back in his text chain with Buck for a whole minute and only reached last Tuesday and still Buck hasn’t said a word.

Only, well—it’s not like Eddie has, either.

He’s working on it.

That night Buck didn’t answer Christopher’s question right away. He looked at Eddie, instead, like he was asking what to say—Eddie, who shrugged even as he was seized by the desire to, like, hold Buck’s hand tenderly over the leftover bread rolls. Your call.

Buck’s gaze cut down to the table then back up again, and a smile unspooled on his face that seemed almost too big to fit as he said, “yeah, Chris, I,” and looked over at Eddie again, “I’d love to.”

keep reading on ao3

#911holidaygiftexchange2021 #buddie #buddie fic #buddiefanfic #911 #911 on fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #oatflatwrites

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witchlyboo · 3 years

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Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

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hotshotsxyz · 3 years

Text

like it means something

buddie (2.8k) (read it on ao3)

Evan. His own name won’t stop rattling around in his head. Evan.

He brings Eddie home from the hospital and everything’s - not okay, Eddie still got hurt and Buck still had to watch it and Bobby’s still hurt too, but - they’re getting there. No one died, and that’s a hell of a lot better than it could’ve been. No one died.

Evan.

Eddie kisses Chris’s forehead and Buck grins wide, because yeah, of course he would take care of him if the worst happened, but this is what Christopher deserves. His family, alive and whole and well.

Taylor’s there. Of course she is, Buck’s mind supplies, you asked her to be. She’s your friend. More than a friend? Buck doesn’t know. There’s a lot to unpack there, and with everything else that’s happened, they haven’t had the time. It’s a conversation for another day.

Abuela, Pepa and Carla each take their turn fussing over Eddie and then, to Buck’s surprise, him too. He doesn’t understand why. Eddie got shot, not him. Eddie’s the one who hasn’t been home in a week, not him. Eddie -

Evan.

Buck’s at a loss. It’s a party of sorts, but Eddie’s exhausted and so is he. Buck feels completely wrung out, and he can see the tension in Eddie’s expression that says he does too. He wants to tell everyone else to leave, but it isn’t his place. Still, though, Taylor seems to get the hint first. She pulls him aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m going to head out. Is there anything you need?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head mutely.

“Just... get some rest, okay? I know you want to take care of him, but you’re not the only one who can.” She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then heads over to where Eddie and Ana are seated at the dining room table to make her excuses.

Taylor is half right and half wrong. There are other people that can take care of Eddie, but Buck won’t be able to rest unless he’s nearby.

Evan.

Abuela and Pepa leave next, citing the sinking sun and the growing weariness in Eddie’s movements. They each kiss him on the cheek and go with the promise to return in the morning. Abuela’s left behind enough food to feed an army for a week, stacked in the fridge in carefully labeled Tupperware.

Then Carla goes and it’s just Eddie, Ana, Buck and Chris.

Evan.

Buck should probably go, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to. He knows Eddie’s okay, has the living proof sitting right in front of him, but the second he looks away all the tension of the week returns, the fear and anxiety mixing sickeningly in his stomach.

Christopher has fallen asleep in Eddie’s lap, head tucked into his good shoulder. Eddie himself is fighting yawns. It’s been a long day.

Finally, it’s Ana who breaks the silence, standing and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Get some rest,” she says. “And text me if you need anything.”

It’s virtually the same thing Taylor said to him, and it strikes Buck as odd. They’ve been together, what, six months now? She should be saying more. Maybe she’s not because he’s here. Buck still can’t bring himself to leave.

Evan.

Neither of them has moved in the minutes since Ana left, but Eddie’s eyes are starting to drift and Buck knows he needs to sleep.

“Let me take Chris,” he says softly.

The grateful nod Eddie gives him is a testament to just how tired he really is.

Buck picks him up carefully and carries him to bed. He tucks him in and presses a kiss into his forehead. Once upon a time, he might’ve wondered if that was his place. Not now, though, not after everything Eddie said. He loves this kid like his own; he’s not going to pretend it’s anything less.

Evan.

He flicks the light out and makes sure Chris’s night light is on before gently shutting the door. Wordlessly, he returns to Eddie’s side.

There’s a grimace of pain on Eddie’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a quick glance at the clock tells Buck that he’s way past due for another round of medication. He grabs the pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“The doctor said I can give you ibuprofen, too, if this isn’t enough.”

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, this is okay.” He swallows the pills Buck offers him dry, then washes them down with a swig of water.

“You need to sleep,” Buck says. “I should-“

“Stay, please?” Eddie interrupts him.

And how could Buck say no to that?

Evan.

Buck’s barely asleep when he hears Eddie cry out. He’s on his feet in a second and by Eddie’s side in less.

Eddie’s asleep still, but his face is scrunched and he’s curled in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Buck places a hand on his leg and shakes him gently.

Eddie shoots up, hissing in pain and clutching his shoulder. His eyes dart wildly around the room, unseeing.

“Hey, hey, just a dream, you’re okay,” Buck says.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with fear as they meet Buck’s. He sucks in a ragged, shuddering breath, then sags.

“I- you. You were- fuck,” Eddie stutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Buck repeats. He pulls Eddie to his chest. “You’re okay.”

Buck rocks them back and forth gently as his shirt slowly grows wet with Eddie’s tears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie gasps against him. Buck just holds him tighter.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Eddie pulls back, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks after a moment.

Eddie shakes his head but begins to speak anyway. “It was- I saw you, covered in blood and I couldn’t... couldn’t move, or, or help you. And- and then you were coughing up blood, just like at the party, and I tried, Buck I tried but it was like I was stuck in quicksand and I couldn’t-“ Eddie’s breathing has gone ragged again, so Buck grabs his hand.

“Me?” he can’t help but ask.

“Evan,” Eddie says, so tenderly it hurts.

Evan.

They fall asleep curled together, Eddie’s hand resting over Buck’s heart. It’s the first decent sleep Buck’s had since the shooting.

They don’t talk about it the next day, mostly because Buck doesn’t know what to say. He suspects Eddie doesn’t either.

Instead, much to Christopher’s delight, Buck makes pancakes. The three of them eat together on the couch, watching some cartoon that Chris seems interested in and Buck’s never seen before. It’s so painfully normal. Buck was terrified he’d never get to have this again, and now that he does he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is going to drop.

Evan.

That night, Eddie wordlessly pulls Buck into his bedroom. They lay facing each other in the dark. Buck wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

There’s not much light in the room, just the ambient glow of the city filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. It’s enough to see Eddie’s face by, but it doesn’t help Buck read his inscrutable expression. He eventually gives up trying and closes his eyes.

He’s stiff, and sleep evades him. If Eddie’s shifting is any indication, he’s still awake too. Finally, Eddie heaves a sigh and, to Buck’s surprise, wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist and pulls. Buck opens his eyes and sees the silent question in Eddie’s.

Is this okay?

Buck presses himself into Eddie’s space without hesitation.

Evan.

Eddie has a doctor’s appointment the next day, and Buck’s agreed to meet Taylor for coffee after dropping him off. Carla’s with Chris for the day, to help him with school, leaving Buck with a free hour on his hands for the first time in over a week.

His stomach has been in knots all morning. He’s not sure if it’s the prospect of letting Eddie out of his sight for the first time since he’s been home, or the conversation he knows he’s about to have with Taylor.

Because he’s thought about it, and the idea of being with Taylor… he’s kidding himself. Before, maybe. But now, after, with the mess of feelings he has twisting in his chest - he’s not in a place to start something new. He’s not even sure he wants it - her - anymore. Taylor’s great, but she could never fill the hole that was punched in his chest by the same bullet that tore through Eddie’s shoulder.

He’s starting to wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life dividing things into before and after.

Taylor’s already seated when he arrives, fingers wrapped around a cardboard coffee cup that’s still steaming. Buck almost expected to change his mind when he saw her, to suddenly remember why he was interested in the first place, but mostly he’s just anxious to get back to Eddie. He doesn’t even really feel the old curl of attraction he’s used to. He sits in front of her, suppressing a sigh.

Taylor looks up at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite decipher. “Buck,” she says.

Evan.

“Hey, Taylor.”

“You don’t want coffee?” She asks, inclining her cup towards him.

Buck shakes his head. “Had some this morning,” he shrugs. “Don’t want to get jittery.”

Taylor frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They sit in awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Buck finally breaks it.

“Look, Taylor,” he sighs. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I just… whatever this thing is between us, I’m not sure I have the space to figure it out. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I just can’t be right now.”

Taylor blows out a breath. “Oh thank god,” she says.

And that’s… unexpected. Buck raises a brow.

“You’re my friend, and I care so much about you, but I- I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I told myself it was something else.” Taylor doesn’t look him in the eye. “All this earnestness is making me nauseous,” she jokes weakly.

Buck huffs out a short laugh. The tightly wound anxiety in his gut loosens, just a bit. “Friends, then?”

Taylor finally looks at him and smiles. “Friends,” she agrees.

“How was coffee?” Eddie asks. He’s looked vaguely constipated since Buck picked him up, but insists that his appointment went fine.

“Good,” Buck replies honestly. “We’re on the same page.” He’s driving, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie’s face do something complicated.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. “So you’re… together, then?”

Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them. His expression is carefully neutral, but tight around the edges. Buck huffs a soft breath. “Nah,” he says. “End of the day it wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Eddie’s posture. “Oh. I, uh- are you okay with that?”

Buck chuckles lightly at that. “Yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I’ve got everything I need right now.”

Evan.

Sleeping in the same bed at night becomes something of a habit, just like not talking about it does. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to. He’s just… not sure how. What do you say when you’ve got so many feelings that you can’t even begin to decipher them, and the only thing you know for sure is that the thought of letting your best friend out of sight for more than a few minutes sends you careening towards a panic attack? There’s not exactly a greeting card for that.

This song and dance, though, it’s familiar. Comforting, in its own way. They’ve always flirted with the line between friendship and more, daring to put a toe over it, but never to take an actual step. Buck can’t help but wonder if this is a step, and they’re both just too chickenshit to admit it.

Evan.

“Where’s Ana?” Buck asks one morning, apropos of nothing. “I would’ve expected to see her around more often.”

Eddie stiffens. “We, uh, we broke up.”

Buck whirls around, nearly flinging egg against the backsplash. “When?”

“After the party.” Eddie shrugs uncomfortably.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been with you 24/7 since then,” he says. The question is obvious.

Eddie rubs a hand through his hair and frowns sheepishly. “I… texted her?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You ended a 6-month relationship, a week after you got shot, over text?”

“In my defense, I was on a lot of painkillers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Buck can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back. After a moment, Eddie joins in.

“That,” Buck says between giggles, “was not cool, man!”

“Nope,” Eddie agrees.

It’s the best either of them has felt in weeks.

The night after Buck’s first shift back at the station, Eddie has the worst nightmare he’s had since that first night. It takes Buck three tries to wake him, and the glassy look in his eyes remains far longer than he’d like.

“Please be careful,” Eddie says finally. “You have to- I can’t-“

“I promise,” Buck says, holding him tight to his chest.

Evan.

It’s Buck’s own nightmare that brings things to a head.

He’s been sleeping surprisingly peacefully since Eddie’s return home, but when the nightmares do return, they’re the worst he’s had.

He dreams he’s stuck beneath the firetruck, white-hot pain radiating up his leg, watching helplessly as Eddie bleeds out in front of him. Eddie tries to drag himself to Buck, but each pull makes the wound gush even more blood. Buck tries to yell for him to stop, but he can’t make his jaw work.

He finally wrenches it open, only to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie’s hand is clutching his forearm. He knows where he is, but the panic from his dream isn’t receding. It grows louder and louder, until finally, Eddie’s voice cuts through.

“Evan!” He says sharply. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re in my room, with me. We’re both okay.”

Buck sags and falls back against the pillow, willing his breathing to slow. “You keep saying that,” he whispers in the dark.

“What?”

“My name. Like it means something.”

“It does,” Eddie says. “Every single piece of you matters.”

And Buck… Buck almost believes him.

Evan.

The elephant in the room grows larger every day, but still, they don’t talk about it. For all intents and purposes, Buck lives at Eddie’s. It’s been months. Eddie doesn’t physically need his help anymore, but neither is willing to let the other go. With Eddie’s return date drawing nearer, though, it’s getting harder to ignore.

Buck doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since practically the first night, and he can’t take it anymore. He decides to soften the blow with pancakes.

“I should probably go back to my apartment,” he says, as casually as he can manage, as if the words don’t feel like ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest. Buck tries not to examine that feeling too closely.

“You need something?” Eddie asks, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that Buck might not come back.

“No, I-“

“Oh,” Eddie says. His expression goes carefully blank.

“I just-“ Buck tries to explain.

Eddie holds up a hand forestalling him. “I get it,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Buck swallows, ignoring the voice in his head that says definitively that it’s not.

Evan.

Buck’s out the door, duffle in hand, when Eddie stops him.

“Buck, wait,” he says, “Evan!”

Buck drops his bag in surprise and turns, only to find Eddie much closer than he expected.

“Don’t go,” Eddie says in a rush. “Stay, please. I need you here. With me.”

Buck gapes at him, as slowly the knot of emotions in his chest begins to unravel. The string that encircles the edges, that one he knows well: fear. The one beneath it: anger, at the sniper and the universe for hurting Eddie all over again. Hope and devastation intermingle, while grief lay coiled off to the side.

And the string that runs through the middle, holding it all together… that’s love.

Oh.

Buck gets it now.

He takes a step forward, closing the minuscule gap between him and Eddie. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. A promise, one which Eddie returns in kind.

There’re still a million things to talk about, but for once in his life, Evan Buckley is pretty sure he has all the words he needs.

#911 #9-1-1 #buddie #911 fox #abbie writes #fic #mine

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halinski · 3 years

Text

For my beloved @outrunningthedark bc iight have a bit of a crush on her and bc she keeps me sane in this fandom. T, i want you know I've barely written anyhing beside the one sterek challenge with a group for the last 5 months so thank you for being my muse -- sorry it's not proofread or anything

Buddie • knuckle kiss • breakdown scene from the 5b promo • ~2k word count

He knew before he even opened the door. Maybe itbwas the subliminal space he just entered, proximity to Eddie had always had an anchoring effect on him. While the world whirled around him in stark colored monsoons, Eddie was the eye of the storm. Steady, calm, centered. Buck had clear view of him always- well, he does get torn back into the vicious currents every now and then, loses sight of up and down and everything important. Nonetheless he always finds his way back. To the Diaz house, Chris' room, Eddie's side. And the world was right again.

Might be that, that clued him in to the secondary storm that awaited within but it's probably the tone of the text he received from Eddie half an hour ago.

/ Could you pick up Christopher from abuelas tomorrow /

A question with just one obvious answer, (a simple /Of course!/) and therefore not a real question at all, but the missing punctuation was untypical. Eddie despised text speak. In fact, he always called about the important things, as for example anything about Christopher. It jump started his heart into overdrive, alarm in his veins before he could even reasonably explain it. But Buck knew.

Knew there was something at least. Not quite exactly what, because Eddie had hid panic attacks from him in the recent past. Hidden just because Buck hadn't been around as much, which only made sense if girlfriends were around, but still felt like someone had drilled a well of failure back in through his chest. He should have been there.

But there would be no stopping him now. No /it's not my place, i shouldn't intrude/ or /I'm not needed/. Eddie never called for help for himself. He made sure Christopher was taken care of if he couldn't and he didn't like making waves, being obvious. That's why he was asking Buck to take the boy, not asking abuela for another day. And he'd accepted Buck's persistence, asked him to step in if he couldn't, thinly veiled by the premise of /just in case he died on the job/ and here he had gone and quit it - possibly signaling that he didn't need Buck anymore - but Buck had promised he would never not be there again. Since the stupid lawsuit, since the shooting, always, always, no matter the circumstances. As long as Eddie would have him.

And here Eddie was, asking for him. Buck was immediately canceling on his plans for the next day with a quick text to Taylor and jumping into his car. On his way and enduring traffic without much of a bother because he had only one thought.

Eddie was in trouble. He would never willingly give his kid off to someone else unless there was something he could do about it. Something was very wrong. At the very least, a panic attack. At the worst... Only heaven knew because he wasn't answering Buck's calls or texting back. Eddie never ghosted Buck so suddenly, again, without good reason. He could be in hospital again, who knew. The universe seemed hell bent on hurting Eddie, and well, Buck barely saw him anymore, not during his shifts, only when they were both off duty and Eddie invited him over. As good as never if you asked the anxiety that made Buck's skin crawl s all hours of the day and night, even when Eddie was sleeping (because what he wasn't? what if he was also having nightmares like Buck had?)

As Buck turned the key in the Diaz's front door and stepped through, he embarked into a known front flooded by a chaos he didn't know how to confront, much less control. Yet, there was no hesitation. He followed the invisible tether straight in, shoes toed off behind a door that may or may not have closed behind him, keys possibly dropped off on the counter, possibly in his jacket pocket. It didn't matter. He found himself sinking right at Eddie's side, knees hitting the carpet between couch and coffee table.

Everything about the scene was new, Eddie -sobbing, desparate for breath as he shook his head, bloody knuckles weakly wrapped around a baseball bat, looking more lost than Buck had ever seen him. More than that split second where Buck had told him he lost Christopher in a tsunami wave, more than the time when he'd been shot and bleeding out beneath Buck's hands, than the fight in the supermarket, than Shannon's death, more than bruised up ribs and how Eddie had clung to Buck's easy emotional facade when Buck saw right through his struggles in therapy. There was a weight to the way his shoulders hung, chin shuddering and eyes unfocused, red and streaming, a helplessness that was gut wrenching, and Buck didn't know where to start.

"I can't. I-I can't, it's all jus'... I can't," came the wet pleas from Eddie's bitten, tortured lips.

"Hey," Buck tried to alert his friend to his presence but his own voice broke, barely a scared whisper, foam atop a ripple, useless amongst the raging waves that were beating relentleasly against the ship wreck. He had to get it together, blink away his teary fear and be the anchor for Eddie this time around. He wasn't a powerless 10 year old watching his sister be stolen away without any attempt of rescue from his parents. Hadn't been that person for a long time. He had his flaws, but rock bottom and misery were a setting he had mastered, had practiced his escapes and if anything he could make himself comfortable in the darkness alongside him.

"Hey! Hey, Eddie," Buck tried louder, this time pouring his resolve into every syllable. The same way he'd crawled under that fire truck, single handedly pulling Eddie out and into it, kept him holding on until the hospital. Buck knew well enought that there were many things he didn't know and couldn't predict. It's why he liked to memorize facts he could rely on to navigate his way out.

He didn't know where the blood came from yet, nor the wet smears on Eddie's shirt. Nor what had triggered the crash, if Eddie was in physical pain or if it was 'just' another panic attack, one strong enought to barrel over the strongest man Buck knew.

But he knew the strength Eddie poured into him with every small acknowledgement and touch, the way Eddie could steady his soul with a few direct words, sealing them with a warm brown gaze that felt like home. Buck remembered every grip of his hand, palm in palm or on the crook of his neck, bracing his shoulder- just, holding.

Buck knew Eddie relied on him too.

"Eddie, look at me. I'm here. I'm right here." Buck leaned forward, searched to find the man he knew in flooded eyes but was met by a shield, left to hover a mere inch away, his target unreachable. His hands itched but he didn't dare reach out, not yet, for fear of escalating Eddie's occurring nightmare.

Still, Eddie quivered, head shaking /no/ repeatedly, mouthing incoherently except for the quietly sobbed 'I cant's, rough like they'd been torn straight from the fabric of Eddie's core by jagged claws. He moved, just barely, but in abrupt quakes, the bat tilting, alerting Buck once again to its presence and to the solution. Buck grabbed the middle of it, right above Eddie's knees, breathing just a little easier at the conbection, albeit through a conduit.

"I got you."

And Eddie's eyes still scrounged the air before him for purchase blindly. Buck just wanted to grab his face and make him see.

"I'm here now. I got you. It's okay. You hear me, Eddie?"

Buck tugged a little at the bat, hoping both to remove it and to slowly inch his way into Eddie's space, make his presence physically known.

"I'm here now. You can let go. I got you."

"I can't, Buck," Eddie coughed out, strangled and heavy, like a whale beached and heaving. And yet Buck had never been happier to hear his name spoken. "It's all... I just- i mean, look."

He gestured all around them, spread his fingers to present his damaged hand, shrugged as he held up the bat, and returned into the former position, elbows locking into place.

"I try and try and I," Eddie wept on, the dam at least leaking a bit now. "And I can't. I can't do it. I always fuck up. I'm, I'm a mess."

Buck kept a firm grip on the bat, angling it away from Eddie as he let him talk. Words could be a miraculous thing, the end of the world or the only remaining tether, and he hated how dry his throat felt.

"You're not. Trust me, you-"

"Look at me! I'm a mess. I can't get it right. I just can't."

"Eddie, I promise you. You... Might be a mess. But who isn't? You're doing so good. You're doing everything right, okay?"

But he was shaking his head vehemently, knuckles only tightening on the handle. Buck had to persist.

"No, Eddie, listen to me. Listen. You're doing everything right. You just, you have to take care of yourself, too. Even Bobby has to ask for help sometimes." Buck carefullt slid his hand up, just half an inch under Eddie's, holding his breath.

"You might be a mess but that's okay. I'm right here with you. We'll figure it out, okay? I got your back, remember?"

And the tears still pearled down reddened cheeks, soft whimpers falling every time Eddie's lips quivered open for breath, but the winds seemed to lessen. Just a tiny bit.

"You just have to let me," Buck said.

Eddie breathed in deep once, and coughed wetly.

"I got you. You can let go."

Buck dared to make contact now, sliding his fingers over Eddie's lightly, coaxing them patiently from the wooden weapon, until he freed it frok his grasp and stowed it away beneath the table, while never letting go of the shaking hand.

"I'm not going anywhere. Promised that to the both of you."

He held on to Eddie's hand, finding the blood on his knuckles to have already dried, and tried not to worry too much about it until he'd stabilized Eddie emotionally, although he was already recounting the steps from here to the bathroom counter where rhe rirst aid kit sat and if they actually had everything they needed inside it. Eddie had minutely sunken back into the couch cushions, still sniffling and crying, now starting to shake from exhaistion probably, but slowly finding solid ground again. He breathed a long shuddering sigh, throat rasping like he was looking for something to say, unease marking his features as if he was about to apologize and this time it was Buck who shook his head.

To make his point clear, he lifted the so carefully cradled knuckles in his palm and pressed his lips to the cracked skin. Finally Eddie met his eyes with a bewildered gasp and Buck waited patiently for the turmoil within the other man to settle, thumb brushing over his tired fingers and just repeating, "I got you."

#🤷#i wrote this #i did it #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #for T #outrunningthedark #knuckle kiss #fanfic #911onfox

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