#Buck is being all self deprecating

[daffi-990]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🏙️

Tagged by @diazsdimples & @tizniz. Make sure to check out what they shared today! (and maybe send James a virtual hug or a stupid punny joke? He’s been sick for 3 weeks and I’m sure he could use some cheering up 😘)

I have been wanting so desperately to write the past few days but a cold has my sinuses putting so much pressure on my head I feel like it’s going to explode, plus it’s school holidays and it’s been raining so I’ve got two very energetic kids with cabin fever running around causing mayhem 😅.

BUT! I did manage to write a little something for LA Lonely so yay (even though it may not be great, at least it’s words)

Pre snippet here

Buck is woken up by the shrill sound of a phone ringing. The bed jostles, Buck letting out an annoyed grumble as the warm body that is wrapped around him disappears. There is a kiss pressed to his naked shoulder, a whispered apology and then the rustling of the blankets as the person leaves the bed, answering the phone with a quiet hello.

Rolling over to check the time, Buck’s surprised to see that it’s almost 9. Usually his body clock wakes him up at 7am everyday, whether he stayed up late or not, so sleep-ins are a rare thing. He rolls onto his back, groaning as he stretches his arms up above his head. There’s a slight ache in his ass but it’s a reminder of the fantastic sex he had last night and honestly, Buck doesn’t mind the discomfort.

He hears footsteps on the stairs, the wood creaking slightly and then the most attractive man Buck has ever laid eyes on is standing at the foot of his bed wearing nothing but underwear and a soft apologetic smile that has Buck’s tummy swooping.

Eddie.

The man’s name is Eddie, Buck remembers. And remember he should because he was moaning it loud enough last night.

Eddie has a phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he picks up his jeans and begins to awkwardly shimmy them up his legs. “I told you, I overslept. But I’m getting ready now and can be there in —” he looks down at his wrist and frowns, his eyes sweeping over the discarded clothes on the floor before zeroing in on Buck’s second nightstand where a clunky watch sits. Eddie grabs the watch, quickly checking the time before he begins strapping it on. “I can be there in 20 minutes, 15 if the traffic is good.”

Buck feels a pang in his chest and then instantly chastises himself. This was just another hookup, a one night stand —nothing more than that. He was foolish to think that what he felt last night with Eddie was anything real. It was just the hormones.

Eddie may have stayed, but that was probably because he was hoping to get lucky again this morning. Or like Buck, he slept in and didn’t get a chance to sneak out before Buck woke up.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @spotsandsocks @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @wikiangela @athenagranted @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @goforkinard @rainbow-nerdss @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @dangerpronebuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @devirnis @donationwayne @shitouttabuck @sunshinediaz @princessfbi @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @captain-hen @bekkachaos @bigfootsmom @ladydorian05 @nmcggg @mellaithwen @missmagooglie and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag

#spoiler alert: Eddie would stay if he could but fatherhood calls and well that’s a call Eddie will always answer #daffi writes #wip: la lonely #Buck is being all self deprecating #but what else is new? #buddie wip #buddie #I really really want to finish Rival Firefighters so I can dive into my other wips #(and also post the first chapter for you guys!) #and I’m soooo close #but between the pounding head and the energetic munchkins .. I haven’t been able to keep the smutty writing beans going #though I have been on a bit of a little fic reading roll atm which is nice 😊 #having to slow down and rest (more like being forced to by my husband haha) gives me time to go through my MARKED FOR LATER library #okay I’ve probably rambled way too much #hugs to everyone ❤️

[athenagranted]

the sheer amount of reassurance that eddie offered buck this ep had me reeling. like. every single offhanded self-deprecating comment that buck made in this ep, lighthearted and playful as they were, was immediately folllowed by eddie refuting it in the softest, gentlest way. buck announced he broke up with natalia and eddie, who specifically warned him that it wasn't a good idea to date someone they met on a call, who was potentially very hurt by buck claiming that natalia 'sees him,' and who was clearly not in favor of the relationship, said none of it. instead, without even missing a beat, he starts his reply off with to be fair. to be fair to buck, in case buck isn't being fair to himself.

when eddie brings up not wanting chris to go down a path of being reckless with dating, and buck assumes that eddie doesn't want chris to end up like him, eddie shuts that down instantly by reminding him that buck didn't actually end up the way he perceives himself. i love the way eddie so clearly acknowledges buck's idea of who buck once was while giving him that reassurance that he was never just that person. he's not buck 1.0, he's not buck 2.0, he's not buck 3.0, he's just buck, and eddie loves him the way he is.

i just — eddie is always offering buck grace and always so in tune with the way that buck's mind works, giving him the space to make the decisions he needs to, regardless of whether eddie agrees with them, all while still being in his corner and waiting for him to come to his senses in his own time, and eventually come home. to come back to where he belongs, because eddie missed him and never, ever wants to be without him again.

#sorry if this post has already been made lol i didn't watch live #anyway. EDDIE LOVES BUCK TO HIS CORE AND WE SAW IT IN EVERY MINUTE OF THEIR SCREENTIME THIS EPISODE <3 #buddie #rae.txt #my commentary #911 #911 spoilers

[axen-gers]

he was happy

eddie diaz one shot

poly!buddie x afab! reader

warnings: mentions of shannon diaz, mentions of pregnancy, afab reader, breakup/divorce, absent parenting kinda, poly relationship

Edmundo Diaz wasn’t made to be happy.

The same could be said for either of his partners but the events of Eddie’s life made it seem like he wasn’t made for happiness.

Before he met either of his partners, his life was filled with hate filled arguments with his ex-wife. It was filled with self deprecated thought of how the people in his life could do better.

Edmundo Diaz didn’t know what being truely happy was until his son opened his eyes for the first time.

It was a shory lived happiness but when Christopher opened his eyes, Eddie could’ve burst with happiness had Shannon not of interrupted it with her usual hatred filled comments.

Perhaps he deserved it. He did miss his son’s birth. He missed his anniversary. He missed both his sisters birthdays. He missed every important event in his life by running away to be in combat.

Edmundo Diaz only ran away because he was discontented with his life in Texas.

When Shannon ended the overextended relationship of theirs, Eddie was happy to take Chris and run away to Los Angeles.

Edmundo Diaz found his newfound happiness there.

Sure things with Buck were tense at first but all it took was a bomb for the two to quickly become friends.

He knew Buck was already in a relationship with you but he would always picture himself being welded into the cracks in your guys’ relationship. Maybe he’d be the final piece to hold it together.

Edmundo Diaz fell in love with you the moment you treated Chris like a normal kid.

Everyone would tend to baby his son but not you. You looked upon Chris as if he was your world and treated him with patience and respect. That night Chris had asked his dad if you were gonna stay around and it was the first time in a long time that Edmundo Diaz actually wanted someone to stay.

So here he is three years later, you in the middle of both him and Buck which your hands resting on your overextended stomach with a tired smile.

Edmundo Diaz finally knew the pain of having a real smile etched on his face.

He was happy.

#buddie x reader #buddie #evan buckley #evan buckley smut #buck x eddie #eddie diaz smut #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x y/n #poly!buddie #i wrote this in five minutes #so it kinda sucks

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Don't Waste A Second

Summary: Billy the Kid x Fe!Reader -> You and Billy have been close for a while now, but what happens when your life is put in danger and he has to bargain for your life?

Disclaimer: MDNI: Criminal Minds level (16+ subjects mentioned although not all are carried out, just (kind of) talked about. ANGST, self-deprecation though Billy won't stand for it. Talks of death, blood, gore and gunfire. Fluff splattered around. Not proof read.

First came the sound of gun fire. 

Your heart leaped from your chest and you could feel every morsel of your being being pumped with adrenaline by the minute. 

The head of the rival gang in town sat beside you until he heard the second gun shot before he himself stood and brought you with him. 

“You’re my leverage for my life, woman. Say a word and I will kill you myself.”

It wasn't long until the owner of the gunshots appeared by the door. 

“Well, if it isn’t the Kid himself?”

“Let her go.”

He pulled you higher to his head. Even with a shot like Billy’s, this could pose a danger if he wasn’t careful. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Let her go.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to kidnap women?” You spoke before you even thought. 

“I thought I told you to shut up!”

“Hey!” Billy had the man’s attention once more. “You don’t talk to her. You talk to me. I’m the one you have a problem with.”

“Which makes it all the more fun having her here, right by my side.”

Billy raised his gun a little higher.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One wrong move and the bullet goes straight through her skull.”

That made Billy falter a little.

“Now, I know better than anyone that you have a little soft spot for her, so how about we cut a deal?”

“It’s not worth it, Billy.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m not worth it, Billy. Don’t do it. No matter what he says.”

“I thought I told you to shut it!”

The man’s hands dragged roughly around your neck, forcing you to look at the rotting ceiling. 

“Please, Billy. Don’t do it.”

“How much is she worth to you, Billy? Huh? Lookin at her, I’d only give a couple bucks but I have a feeling she means more to you than just a few crummy dollars. What do you say, Kid?”

Whilst the man was talking, you were able to move your hands just enough to remove the silver knife from his pocket. The one he had been spinning in his hands just moments before Billy’s gunshot rang through the house. 

“You got it?”

The man thought he was talking to him, but then you replied.

“Yep.”

In less than 3 seconds, the man felt a sharp stab go into his thigh causing his grip to loosen allowing you a swift escape. However, not before you took the opportunity to drag the blade down his leg, opening the wound further allowing Billy a clear shot of the man’s head if he wanted to take it.

And he did.

Moments later, the body dropped in front of you and you scrambled back on all fours until you got to your knees and found Billy level with you in height. 

He pushed your dirty hair from your face, and checked you over for any visible wounds. There was none yet, that he could see.

“Let’s go home.”

Hours later, you found yourself washed and dressed whilst Billy tended to some of your larger wounds. 

When you had been getting washed, you hadn’t noticed Billy sneak a glance through the gap in the clothing divider. He saw the blood. He saw the brides. He saw the scars. 

Then he heard your voice, trying to be quiet in its pain as you lowered yourself into the tub and tried to clean yourself off. 

He had asked if you needed any help, but you were stubborn. He knew your answer before you even gave it. 

But he gave you no choice afterwards. He would tend to your woods and that was final. 

So, sitting beside him on the worn sofa whilst the fire crackled to keep you both warm. Billy pressed some ointment to the scars that littered the side of your body.

He had called for the town doctor to come and see you. Of course, he came right away and saw to you- at least, what you would show him. He gave you a small prescription for the pain and some cream that would help keep the wounds clean until they finally healed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Did they…did they do anything to you?”

“Billy. You are applying ointment to my scars and my body is covered in bruises. You’re seriously-“

“Did they touch you?”

You sighed, and moved a little to lift your shirt back up. “No. Not in that way. Though I doubt it would have been long before they did.”

A silence fell over you both once more, Billy breaking it a few minutes later.

“What did you mean before?”

“Before what?”

Billy sighed and replaced the lid on the tin of ointment. Resting his arms on his knees, he leaned forwards and pressed his hands together. You lowered your shirt and looked at him.

“Before, when he had you…he tried to make a bargain for your life. You said it wasn’t worth it. That you weren’t worth it. Why did you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Because I’m not.”

“But you are.”

Billy took your hand in his as he spoke to you. 

“Billy,” you chuckled a little. “ I teach five days a week at the local school. I serve people drinks on the weekends. People come and go and I am still always asked about who I am. I am…me. I’m nobody important.”

“You’re important to me.”

You paused when Billy looked you in the eyes. His hands still held yours. 

“You are everything to me, you hear? Everything. I haven’t been in the same spot since I was a kid. The reason and the only reason behind that is you. You are the reason I stayed. You are the reason I wake up in the morning and make sure everyone is safe in this town because even if just one of them isn’t, then that puts you in danger. I never wanted to see your life be put in danger because of me. You are everything to me, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Billy,”

“I mean it, Y/N. You have my whole life. You are my whole life.”

In that moment, a whole other silence took over and you found Billy moving  closer to you and found yourself doing the same to him. 

He paused for a moment, your noses brushing. He questioned you with his eyes. He needed to know if he was about to be kissed back or punched. 

Instead, he saw you nod slightly and he moved in, pressing a kiss to your lips before his hand came to the side of your face to draw you in closer.

Of course, you had been fond of Billy since the moment you met him. But you didn’t realise you loved him until just a few moments before you found yourself being towed away by a stranger, who had first told you he was one of the children’s uncles - a child who you taught at school and helped out with after class when he couldn’t just quite find the confidence to read out in class, causing his stutter to worsen. 

Billy knew the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds something was wrong. Like it was in the air, or something. 

He held a freshly picked bunch of wild flowers he’d found riding through the hills on his way to meet you. He did this every time, and everytime the pick would be different. He knew you didn’t like gifts - he had heard as much from the town’s local gossip woman when he stopped by her store to pick up some fresh dressings. 

At the time, you had just walked past the store. All Billy had to do was turn around to see when the woman was staring at and found you, with your head buried against a pile of papers and a pencil in your hand, scribbling away as you managed to avoid almost everything that stood in your way. 

“I heard she was engaged once to some fella outside of New York.”

“You hear right.” the woman told the people in the store. “Apparently he broke her heart and she came out here to teach our kids.”

“What did she do back in New York?”

“Governess from what I heard. But the kids grew up, that was just before her engagement.”

Billy would come to learn that the ‘fella’ you were engaged to did break your heart, but not due to his own failings. He had been on a city inspection job when, during his inspection of one of the machines, a water pipe that ran directly under the building exploded. 

Even if the shrapnel hadn't cut through his skin and caused him to bleed out, the weight of the machine that he fell into probably would have crushed him. He died later on in the hospital, but not before dictating very slowly to one of the nurses what he wished he could say to you first. 

You had been given the letter by the nurse shortly after she found you in the waiting room after you had seen his body. 

“Did she ever find anybody else?”

“A couple tried. Hell, some rich railway fella practically tossed diamonds at her feet, but she didn’t want them. She smiled, kissed them on the cheek and made her way back through town. All she does is work and sleep.”

Over some more comments made through the gossip fueled conversation, Billy came to learn that you didn’t like grand gifts or gestures. But rather, subtlety. Subtlety and truth. 

On the weekends when you served multiple drinks, he got to know you and before both of you knew it, he was showing up outside of school when you finished teaching and one day, whilst on a ride back into town, he brought with him a bunch of flowers, just because. 

A few hours later when he rode past your house, he found them in a vase in your kitchen window. 

So, after months of being friends with one another, and having a yearning for more, it came to your realisation that, even just the thought of Billy not turning up or not seeing him every day, knocked you sick. 

There wasn’t a world where you didn’t want to be with him. 

But, on your way out of the school gates, you were met with an ‘Uncle’. 

Pulling back from the kiss, you kept your head against Billy’s. “Wait.”

“I’m sorry, we shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Billy. It’s not that. I just…”

You pulled back but kept your eyes fixed on Billy, only tearing them away for a moment as you looked to his hand that you took in yours. 

“I need to know that you’re being truthful with me and not just saying all of this because of what happened today. Because, if it’s true, then there are more than just your feelings in this. I just…I don’t want to be hurt, Billy.”

“Darlin’, look at me?”

You looked up and Billy cupped one of your cheeks in his hand. “Everything I have just told you…it’s all true. Even if today hadn't happened, I would have told you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, but I was being a coward. I love you.”

The next moment felt like an eternity for Billy, until finally, he found the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“I love you, too, Billy.”

He didn’t have to think about what to do next. Pulling you in, he kissed you like he had waited a thousand years just to see you one last time. 

And neither of you were going to waste a second. 

#tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x fe!reader #fluff #criminal minds level #mdni #falling in love #loss of past loves #angst #billy takes care of reader #billy the kid #tom blyth billy the kid #au billy the kid #wild west #cowboys #Don't Waste A Second #Don't Waste A Second: Billy the Kid

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-Friday Coda

Tagged by the always lovely @theotherbuckley @perfectlysunny02 @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz and @diazsdimples Thank you all so much for all the tags throughout the week and today! I have eased back on working NFL Buck because I am absolutely swamped with school. I have started clinic rounds and somehow the classwork has doubled for the next set of courses. Which holy crap. So a lot of my days are for studying, homework, and quizzes. Add on being a mom/house wife and yea, not a ton of time to work on my favorite WIP. But I am making time on Thursday to watch the newest 9-1-1 episodes and write codas, because I started them in the final episodes of season 6 and really enjoyed it! So I made a goal to make a coda for most if not all of season 7 episodes! 2/2! I will try my absolute damnest to get some work into NFL Buck because it is my baby and I know how much it is beloved. Until then, enjoy the season 7 codas. Posted to ao3.

7x02 Coda

“We-I…” Buck tries to find the right words again, but he has no idea what they should be.  He doesn’t know if he should be defending himself along with Eddie and Chimney, proclaim that they were just being honest with internal affairs. Or if he should defend Hen and the betrayal she felt when they couldn’t back her up.

Rock and a hard place, with Buck being squeezed tightly in between.

Chimney left the locker-room soon after Hen, with the passing false hope comment, “She’ll come around.”  His phone was half-way to his ear before disappearing around the ladder truck, most likely spilling the entire ordeal to Maddie.

Buck slumps back down on the bench and leans his head against the lockers, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh. Still standing close by, Buck hears Eddie hum in agreement. Yea, tonight was very much a downer.

“We should have had her back.” Buck finally says.

He feels additional weight added to bench and pressing warmth along his arm and thigh when Eddie sits beside him. “We did. We just all put our foots in our mouths trying to show her.” He assured.  He gives Buck knee a gentle squeeze, “You more than me with that whole ‘right call’ comment and wanting to give Captain Collier’s a hard time.”

Buck groans in embarrassment, “I was trying and horribly failing to lighten the mood.”

“The mood was dead on arrival; you had no chance.” Eddie chuckles.

They both go silent, stewing in the hurt emotions left behind by Hen and Chimney, mixing with their own anxiety and worry. It kind of reminds Buck of the last time Hen was captain and that man died at the happiness convention. God that felt like so long ago, when really is less than a year.  Yet here they all are, questioning themselves on the job after losing a patient and without Bobby’s steady leadership to help guide them through it.

Buck could only hope this didn’t send him or anyone else on the team into a spiral of questioning their purpose in life. And he really hoped it didn’t lead to another brush with death, for anyone of them.

The hand on Buck’s knee never left and gave another squeeze, pulling him from his past wallows and has his eyes fluttering open. He looks over at Eddie and sees an understanding smile gracing his lips. “That man’s death isn’t on us. We we’re working on the worst of the crash, and we saved that girl and her mother.  Hen made the right call, the same one Bobby would have made and when those lab results concur with her story, she’ll be back, and we’ll find a way to make it up to her.”

Buck takes a moment to let Eddie’s words sink it and pull him from the beginnings of a self-deprecating spiral. He did his job, he gave his facts of the event truthfully, and Hen would come around. In all regards, Buck just needed to learn how not to put his foot in his mouth, because at the moment it really was a nasty taste.

Slowly most of the tension that had built up during Hen’s confrontation eases away and Eddie felt it through the press of his shoulder into Buck’s, “That has to be a record.” He comments before getting to his feet and reaching a hand out.

Buck doesn’t even hesitate and tries his damnest not to flush too red as Eddie hauls him to his feet with little to no effort. The man has a girlfriend and Buck was done chasing. “Uh yea. Turns out when you stop trying to search for the life’s great moments and instead live in them, internal spiraling is easier to pull out of.” He explains. Eddie also is a big contributor, but Buck isn’t going to admit that to said man.

“Well… At least those self-help books will make good kindling for the next campfire.” Eddie cackles and Buck swats at his shoulder which only makes him laugh harder.

Eventually Buck joins in and the pit of dread dwindles further. He embraces this moment and knows eventually everything is going to be okay.

Short but somewhat sweet I hope! Tagging (no pressure): @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather

#fuck it friday #tag game #coda fic #7x02 #my fic #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hen wilson #chimney han #happier buck #pining buck

[buckactuallys]

pia!!! for the writing prompts: 22 cancelling their schedule just to spend time with them, if that sparks anything! <3

hi nina!!! it took a while but then it sparked something indeed, thanks for sending the prompt <3

hearts will hold

3.1k, [read on ao3]

“Hey,” Eddie says when Buck opens the door, casual, like Buck should’ve expected him. Which he did not. 

“Uh, h-hey,” he says. “Didn’t you say you had plans today?”

“Canceled them,” Eddie says easily, pushing past Buck into his loft. “I’d rather be here anyway.”

“Eddie, I–“ Buck closes the door and turns to watch Eddie rummage through his fridge, emerging with two bottles of beer. “What do you mean, you canceled them? Didn’t you have a date?”

Eddie shrugs, opening the balcony door one handed while holding the beers in the other. Buck has no choice but to follow him out there, still confused. 

This morning after work, he asked Eddie if he was busy this afternoon, and Eddie said he was gonna see Marisol. It’s not unusual lately, that Eddie can’t hang out with Buck because he’s got plans with his girlfriend. Which is normal and to be expected, but also fucking sucks because, well – Buck has horrible timing and realized some things too late.

“You can’t cancel on your girlfriend for me,” he says guiltily, but takes the beer Eddie offers him anyway.

“Of course I can, you’re my best friend. It just felt like I’d brushed you off too many times lately, and I don’t wanna do that.”

“It’s fine,” Buck says, but he’s not sure how convincing he sounds. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not a priority,” Eddie continues like Buck didn’t say anything, and Buck has to close his eyes briefly. Being bulldozed by Eddie’s love and care has gotten so much harder since he’s had his realization. “Because you are. So shut up and let me hang out with you, okay?”

Buck laughs a little. “Okay, okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I didn’t interrupt any plans?”

“Nah,” Buck shrugs. “Was gonna go for a run or something later, but that’s it.”

He swallows down the self-deprecating “Don’t have anyone to make plans with,” before he can say it (he knows it’s not entirely true, but Maddie is so preoccupied with her own family, and everyone else has their own thing going on too, he doesn’t want to bother them), but Eddie hears it anyway, of course.

“I’m surprised you’re not at Bobby and Athena’s right now, making sure they’re recuperating.”

“I’m going there tomorrow,” Buck admits sheepishly, but Eddie looks more pleased than anything else.

“Good,” he says. “And you should come over for dinner this week, you know Christopher can’t go a week without seeing you.”

“You don’t have to make sure I’m…entertained, or whatever,” Buck mutters. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Eddie says. “It’s just– you seem a little off, lately. Since the cruise thing, or maybe the breakup. I don’t know, but I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” Buck says again. “You don’t have to cancel on your girlfriend to check on me.”

“That’s not– Buck, I want to hang out with you. I’d like it if you talked to me about what’s going on with you, but I want to spend time with you regardless of that. I didn’t come over here to check on you, or to interrogate you.”

“Okay,” Buck says quietly. “Okay. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so touchy today.”

But he does know – he’s tired and grouchy and a little bit heartbroken, and it apparently makes him snippy.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “Do you wanna talk about the breakup?”

“Not really.” Buck takes a sip of his beer. “There’s not that much to say anyway. It just became obvious eventually that we didn’t have much in common. Besides the death thing, I guess.”

They’re back in comfortable territory after that, talking the same way they always do, and Buck finally relaxes. He worries about seeming anything less than normal lately, scared to be caught out, unsure about what is his normal around Eddie. Looking back, it seems to him like he’s never been really normal about him at all, but it’s different when he knows.

He’s clearly not doing the best job, because Eddie noticed that he’s been acting strange, but not the worst either, because at least he can’t tell why. And Eddie’s acting the same, so everything is fine.

The next time Buck asks Eddie to hang out, he suggests taking Christopher to California Science Center together that weekend, and Eddie says yes after only a second of hesitation.

“They’ve got a special exhibit on Da Vinci right now,” he says. “It’s supposed to be really cool.”

“You had me at ‘California Science Center’,” Eddie says with a smile, and Buck grins back, already excited to tell Christopher.

“This is so much better than going shopping,” Christopher breathes a few days later, staring up at a model of da Vinci’s Flying Bicycle.

“What do you mean?” Buck asks. “Were you supposed to go shopping today?”

“Yeah, Dad said we need to get me new jeans and shoes,” Chris says distractedly. “And I think Marisol was supposed to come for dinner. But we can do that another time, I like you better anyway.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, to any of the things Chris has just told him. Should he encourage him to make more of an effort with his dad’s girlfriend? But Eddie has never mentioned Chris being anything but nice to her, so it sounds like things are fine – and Buck can’t make him like her more than he does.

And– Eddie canceled his plans for him again? It makes warmth spread in his chest, a pleased little creature stretching in there. As a best friend, he should probably tell Eddie to prioritize his girlfriend, but he already knows he won��t do that. Maybe that makes him a terrible person, but it’s not like he’s telling Eddie to pick him over her. Eddie’s doing that all by himself, and Buck is selfish enough to let him.

A week later, Buck wakes up in the bunkroom with a sore throat and a headache at the tail end of their shift.

When he stumbles up to the loft, Hen only gives him one glance before coming over to worriedly press the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Yeah, you’re definitely coming down with something,” she announces, and Bobby steps around the kitchen counter, a frown on his face.

“Don’t worry about finishing up the shift, Buck,” he says. “Should I get someone to drive you home?”

“I’m okay,” Buck mutters. “Well, n-not okay, but– I can drive myself home.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, coming up the stairs. He pauses at the top, taking in the scene, then rushes to Buck’s side. “Buck? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Buck says, but his voice sounds a bit croaky. “Just think I’m getting sick.”

Eddie presses his hand to his forehead too, then nods grimly. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No, seriously, I’m okay to drive,” Buck says. “I promise. I’ll drive carefully and text you when I’ve made it home and everything.”

Chimney appears in the loft next and they do the whole spiel again, until finally, the others agree to let him drive home by himself. Buck would never go so far as to endanger anyone else, even to avoid bothering his friends, and they all know it.

“Tell us if you need anything,” Hen says. “Anything at all.”

“Food, entertainment, meds, we’ll bring you anything,” Chimney adds. “And text your sister, she’ll want to know.”

“I’ll take you off the next shift, too,” Bobby says, gently steering him towards the stairs with a hand on his shoulder. “Rest, okay? We don’t want you to overexert yourself. And get well soon.”

Eddie accompanies him all the way to his jeep, his arm steady and warm whenever it brushes against Buck’s, and leans against the car while Buck climbs in.

“I’ll drop by later with some stuff,” he says. It’s not a question, but Buck tries anyway.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I have food at home, I’ll probably just lay in bed and sleep or watch TV until I feel better. I don’t want you to catch anything.”

Eddie gives him a look. “I’ll see you later, Buck,” he says, and pointedly closes the car door.

Buck grins, helpless against it, and starts the jeep.

At home, he texts the group chat that he made it, Maddie that he’s a little under the weather but that she shouldn’t worry and that he has everything he needs, then changes into sweats and a hoodie and collapses into bed.

When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of food and soft clattering sounds from the kitchen. The red numbers on his alarm clock tell him it’s afternoon already, so he slept a good few hours despite the sleep he already got on shift. He sits up, sneezes three times in a row, and by the time he’s blinked away the sleep, Eddie is standing at the top of the stairs, holding a mug.

“Drink this,” he says, handing Buck the mug. “How’re you feeling?”

Buck makes a noncommittal sound and takes a sip of the tea. The truth is that he’s really feeling sick now, stuffy nose, full body shivers, and still that annoying headache.

“Hm,” Eddie makes, touching Buck’s forehead again. “Sorry, bud, I know this sucks.”

Buck closes his eyes. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some chicken soup on the stove that should be ready soon. You can eat some of it and rest on the couch?”

“I’ll come downstairs in a bit,” Buck says, breathing in the steam rising up from the mug. “Need to wake up a little.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, his hand twitching towards Buck but falling back to his side before it makes contact. “Take your time.”

Buck drinks the tea in bed, then goes to the bathroom before he slowly heads downstairs. His head is pounding now, and sudden moves make it worse.

Eddie meets him at the foot of the stairs, brow creased.

“Come on, sit down,” he says gently, ushering Buck over to the couch and spreading his fuzzy blanket over his legs once he’s sitting. “Are you warm enough?”

Buck smiles a little. “Yeah, stop fussing. You’re such a dad.”

Eddie shrugs, but he’s smiling too. “Can’t help it.”

He gets Buck a bowl of steaming chicken soup and then sits down next to him with a paper bag full of meds.

Buck gives him a bemused look. “Did you do anything today that wasn’t for me?”

“I had the time,” Eddie shrugs. “Christopher had plans for after school anyway, he’s not gonna be home until after dinner.”

“And you didn’t want to use the time to make plans with Marisol?” Buck asks, focusing on his soup instead of on Eddie. He doesn’t want to keep bringing her up, but he feels like one of them has to, or he’s gonna go crazy.

“She gets it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, like he’s not implying that he canceled on her again.

“But…,” Buck forces himself to keep going, “are things still going well with her?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Eddie says, a little hesitant now. “I’m just also not sure it’s right? She’s nice, and fun, and I like hanging out with her, but…I guess I just– she’s kind of further down on my list than a girlfriend should be.” He shakes his head, then shakes the paper bag in his hand. “Anyway, time to take these.”

So Buck focuses on taking his meds and finishing the soup, rather than the fact that his heart is beating a staccato rhythm against his sternum.  It probably doesn’t mean anything. Even if Marisol isn’t the one for Eddie, doesn’t mean he’d consider Buck instead.

And he loves being Eddie’s best friend. He’s so fucking lucky that Eddie picked him to be such a big part of his life. If that’s all it’s ever gonna be, Buck’s gonna find a way to live with it.

It’s just also gonna be hard as fuck, because Eddie is the kind of friend who, when Buck gets sleepy, maneuvers him down onto the couch but doesn’t get up to make room, and instead lets Buck rest his head on his lap.

He runs a gentle hand through Buck’s hair, massaging his throbbing head carefully, and Buck feels his eyes sting.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for being here.”

Eddie smiles down at him, eyes warm. “Anytime.”

Buck holds his gaze for a few long seconds, watching as Eddie’s smile slips a little and he blinks rapidly a few times before he catches himself again.

“You okay?” he asks. “If you have to go–”

“No,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. His fingers resume their movement against Buck’s scalp. “No, I’m good. Right where I’m supposed to be.”

When Buck wrestles his tired eyes back open a few minutes later, Eddie’s not looking at him anymore. He’s staring off into the middle distance, deep in thought.

Eddie is at Buck’s loft every day for the three days he wrestles his stupid cold. It’s usually just an hour or two, but it makes the entire ordeal much less terrible. After that, Buck returns to work and his regular daily life, spending at least two nights a week at the Diaz house, meeting Maddie for lunch or coffee and helping her and Chim with wedding planning wherever he can.

Everything is completely normal, until it’s not.

On a completely normal Wednesday, on the way back to the station after a completely normal call, Hen turns to Eddie with sparkling eyes and asks, “So how are things with Marisol? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

“Um,” Eddie says, looking caught out. He picks at some invisible lint on his pants and says, so quiet they can barely hear it through the headset, “We actually broke up a while back.”

“What?” Hen, Chimney and Bobby ask at the time, covering the fact that Buck can’t say anything at all.

“What happened?” Hen asks.

“I just realized it wasn’t gonna work,” Eddie shrugs. He’s still looking at his knees, alternating with Buck’s like they always do when they’re crammed into the engine, rather than any of them, and his face is getting more and more flushed. “That…I wanted something different.”

He lifts his head just enough to sneak a glance at Buck, who only notices because he’s still staring so intently. Their eyes meet and Buck feels frozen in the moment, caught in his hope and the paralyzing fear that he’s wrong and would ruin everything if he were to ask Eddie.

Then Eddie jerks his head away and Buck sucks in a breath like he’s been suffocating.

“Well, good on you for realizing,” Chimney says, and Eddie looks up to shoot him a crooked grin. His face is still pink.

“I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually,” Bobby adds, and Eddie looks down again, but not fast enough that Buck can’t see the little smile that’s on his face now.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I think so too.”

His knee presses against Buck’s a little harder, and stays there.

For the rest of the shift, Buck feels jittery and nervous. Eddie doesn’t approach him so he doesn’t either, but he can’t stop staring at him.

Eddie seems pretty normal, just doing his job and shooting the shit with Hen and Chimney like always, but every time he catches Buck staring, he gives him this small smile that’s just different enough from his normal smiles that Buck’s heart keeps skipping beats. This really can’t be healthy.

After the end of their shift, while Buck’s fighting to button his shirt up with shaky fingers, Eddie steps close to him and says, “Come home with me.”

Buck shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his skin, and misses his buttonhole again when he nods jerkily. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

Eddie’s definitely smirking now but his ears and cheeks are pink again, so at least Buck isn’t alone with his flaming face.

They take separate cars so Eddie makes it before Buck, and when Buck finally unlocks the front door, Eddie is nervously pacing the length of his living room.

He spins around to face Buck with slightly wild eyes, then crosses the room in three big strides, coming to a stop right in front of him.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he says, and then his hands are on Buck’s face, warm and gentle and safe.

Buck catches on a second before their lips meet, his own hands latching onto the back of Eddie’s shirt. It makes Eddie smile, and that makes their first kiss a slightly off-center, dry press of lips.

But then Buck spreads his hands out on Eddie’s back, pulling him closer, and Eddie uses his hold on his face to tilt his head just so, and suddenly it’s perfect.

“Not reading it wrong,” Buck breathes against Eddie’s lips what could be hours or minutes later, and Eddie laughs a little, tucking his face into Buck’s neck.

“I was really scared,” he admits, and Buck squeezes him, presses a kiss to the shell of his ear and the side of his head.

“Me too, I was so scared I got it wrong. That my hope was, like, making things seem a certain way–”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, looking up so he can meet Buck’s eye.

“I didn’t even get it,” he says, disbelief coloring his words. “I was already so deep– When you were sick, I told you I was right where I wanted to be. And that was true in a way I didn’t even– I wasn’t aware of just how much I literally always want to be where you are. And then that made me realize some other things, and put them into perspective, so I talked to Marisol–”

“You can tell me about her later,” Buck interrupts, and Eddie laughs.

“Okay. Let me just– I love you. That’s what I realized. I’m in love with you, and have been for god knows how long.”

Buck kisses him, slow and mostly chaste, but he’s still breathless when he pulls back again.

“I love you, too,” he says, touching Eddie’s warm cheek with gentle fingers and watching the way his eyelashes flutter. “I’ll tell you the rest of it later, too. For now, can we just – do this?”

Eddie grins, then tilts his head to press a kiss to Buck’s palm. “Let’s move to the couch first, but then – yeah, we definitely can.”

Buck would follow Eddie anywhere, so the couch is honestly his easiest exercise. And with the prospect of kissing the love of his life on it? He can’t get there fast enough.

#buddie #911fic #911 #buddie fic #pia writes #ask #shitouttabuck

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 3: nightmares, pepto, and fire

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 4

Chapter Rating: M (7.9k)

Chapter Summary: Carmy can't run from how he feels anymore. His dreams, his conversations with his coworkers and friends, everything is forcing him to face reality. Upon being pushed to his limits, he will finally have to start to speak the truth.

content tags: wet dreams, repressed carmy (as per usual), self deprecation, mental illness

A/N: Carmy gets a wet dream AND a nightmare this chapter! I'm putting him through the ringer babes… I had a lot of fun with the drama, interactions, and imagery this time. Also fun fact, this is the end of what I refer to as "Act 1" in my notes! Act 1 consists of repressed Carmy to the max, barely even acknowledging his feelings… but that's gonna change after this chapter :) enjoy!

After a torturous day at work, one that makes his limbs feel like lead, Carmy is more than relieved to see the door to his apartment. 

Surprisingly, though, it swings open without him even touching it. He's too tired to think twice about it. He steps inside, and the first thing he sees is his roommate. They're dressed exclusively in a black apron, just like they were that other night.

“Hi, Carmy,” they say quietly, and their makeup is messy and dark just like that night they were trashed. He remembers how he felt the first time he saw them like that, because he feels it now. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he hears himself saying. 

They walk up to him, and suddenly, they're on top of him. Their hands press gently against his tense shoulders. His back hits his bed, pillows under his neck. 

“You snooped through my stuff, didn't you?” Their hands move behind them to drop their apron, revealing skin, skin, and more skin. It goes on forever. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles half-heartedly, distracted by their nakedness. 

“Hm. I don't think you're all that sorry, but…that's okay.” They drag their hand down the center of his chest, slowly, teasingly, lovingly. “I wanted you to see.”

A bottle of lube materializes in their hand. 

“You did?”

“I did,” they whisper. They uncap the lube with a low pop, and suddenly, their skin is shiny with it. Carmy runs his hand down their chest, squeezing, and it's slippery to the touch. “You wanna see what I like to do with this?”

“Please,” he whispers back, breathless, desperate for it. They smile, and it doesn't quite look like them. Heat circles in his gut nonetheless. 

“You're so sweet,” they say quietly. “I love that about you.”

He can't respond, not with the way they're touching him. Not that he can come up with a response to that. The pleasure is like fire under his skin, hot, alive, and painful.

“Don't say that,” he pleads, and it feels so good. 

“Why not? It's how I really feel about you.”

Their mouth is on his neck now. He can barely breathe. A part of him worries that there's gonna be lipstick marks he'll have to get off again, but he honestly couldn't care less. He'll go to work covered in lipstick marks if he has to. 

“Shut up,” he tries again, but it's even weaker this time. 

I'm gonna end up hurting you, he wants to say, but he can't.

“Don't you like how good I can make you feel?” They lean up to seal their lips against his, and smoke fills his mouth. He takes it in like water. The high hits him immediately, along with the spike in pleasure.

“I'm close,” he whispers, bucking against their hand.

“Me too.” They straddle his waist then, a playful look in their eye. “I know just the thing…”

Just as they go to unbutton his jeans, an alarm screams into his ear, and his eyes fly open to see his bedroom ceiling. 

Stunned, he slams his hand down to shut up his alarm. He lays there in the silence, slowly processing everything. From the moment he woke up, his heart's been racing.

He moves to sit up, get a sip of water, and that's when he feels how sticky his boxers feel. 

“Motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn't even have any water on his nightstand, and he just came in his sleep for the first time since highschool. “Shit.”

The shame is too much. He has to sit there for several more minutes in silence before getting himself clean. 

There are no words to express the emotion he feels as he changes his boxers and wipes himself down. It's a strange mixture of guilt, shock, and lingering arousal. He needs to make sure he doesn't think about it at work unless he wants to walk around with an obvious bulge in his pants. 

You need to head into work so you can stop thinking about it, he tells himself, to which he agrees.

He does his best not to think about it on his way to work, which only garners minimal success. In other words, it's a spectacular failure. It's a miracle he doesn't clock in with a poorly concealed boner, but there are other factors. 

For one, his nausea. It crept up on him soon after waking up, and it looks like it's here to stay. It's fine, though, because he's used to his stomach being fucked. His brain is on fire and so is the rest of his body—just as usual. He'll just take some pepto when he gets to work.

Except that when he reaches for it on the bathroom shelf, there is no pepto bottle. That's when he remembers the way he chugged the rest of it the week before. So the nausea remains.

When he arrives, the comments about the lipstick mark being gone is unavoidable. His irritation is also naturally unavoidable. His sour mood does him no favors. However, in a twisted sort of luck, he realizes they're behind on far too many things, and he hones in, focuses on nothing else. Everyone else is too swamped with work to keep up the teasing. 

The lunch rush is expectedly awful, especially with the swelling tensions in the kitchen. Everyone gets through it with minimal screaming. 

Staying busy is supposed to help. Keeping himself occupied is supposed to help, but the moment the lunch rush ends, the nausea hits him at full blast.

“You look like shit,” Richie kindly tells him. A ‘fuck off’ sits on the tip of Carmy's tongue, but so does the feeling of bile, rising in his throat. “Wow, you really are sick, aren't you?” He remarks at Carmy's lack of response. 

In as little words as possible, Carmy relays to everyone he'll be in his office. 

He keeps the lights off and the door cracked as he falls back onto his chair. The world around him seems to settle like sand. It's been a while since he's dealt with nausea this bad. He counts that as a blessing in itself. 

The darkness and the quiet is nice. It relaxes his body. On the flipside, though, there's no noise to overpower the thoughts he's running from. 

He closes his eyes, and he sees imprints of his dream. He feels their mouth on his neck, their voice in his ear, their hand on his—

Carmy slaps a hand on his forehead. Then, he sighs, dragging it slowly down his face. His stomach twists inward into itself. 

He thinks about seeing his reflection in the mirror last night. His skin was free from the lipstick mark that everyone was relentlessly teasing him about. And yet, he was struck with a profound sense of disappointment. 

You liked seeing it there, a voice somewhere hidden in him whispers. 

Carmy really feels like throwing up now. 

He settles in the darkness for a while longer until a notification lights up his screen, briefly illuminating the room with a low white light. 

His first instinct is to groan and flip his phone face down, which he follows about halfway through until he sees the contact name. 

The text message is from the person haunting his dreams and his waking life. 

- hey thinking abt cooking chicken and rice tonite or something. u want some??

Just when he was able to get a break from thinking about them. Just like that, they're orbiting his brain again. 

Visions of them jacking him off aside, he's unsure what to say. He doubts he's gonna be able to get anything down today. This isn't the first time something like this has happened on his end.

> maybe tmrw, stomach is fucked today. ill take leftovers if u make some

- oh no :( feel better man. u got medicine?

> no but its ok, ill take some after work

- but thats so far away!

He can't help but smile, even if looking at the screen isn’t making his nausea any better.

> ill be ok. ill make it

He’ll make it because he has to. No one else is gonna run the place for him. That’s a part of what makes him stand up, take in a breath, and return to the kitchen. The other part is the familiar distant sound of arguing. He slips his phone in his back pocket, stands up, and gets back to work. No matter how begrudgingly it may be.     

A number of problems quickly make themselves clear to him. First, the toilet’s busted again. Two, the plumber won’t be here for another three days. Three, the cash register isn’t working. Four, the meat order got delayed. Carmy doesn’t even wanna start worrying about that last one yet with how awful it’s gonna be.

“When is Fak gonna get here?” Carmy asks Richie. They’re stationed at the front, taking the lack of customers while they can.

“He said he'd be here soon.” Richie's fucking with the aforementioned cash register. Carmy’s leaning against the counter, watching him aggressively jam receipt paper into the machine out of the corner of his eye. It's refusing to print receipts again. “He said to tell you to not get your hopes up. He's not a plumber.”

“I know, but he's got the best chance of fixing the thing.”

“I'm telling ya, if you just let me fuck around with it—”

“You don't know how to fix a toilet by watching youtube tutorials,” Carmy mutters.

“So you wanna have to keep going across the street to take a piss?”

“Cousin—this is my restaurant, not your goddamn apartment—”

“Alright, then be my fuckin’ guest—”

He's so in the middle of arguing that he doesn't even hear the bell on the door ring when it opens. 

“Look, Fak's gonna be here in a couple minutes,” Carmy says, pinching his eyebrows together, “and then you can fight it out like alphas or whatever the fuck you were saying. Okay? God—”

When he straightens up, pushing himself off the counter and turning back towards the front, the last person he expected to see stands right in front of him.

They've got this bashful smile on their face, and their cheeks are flushed from the cold. Their hair sticks out from their beanie in a way that Carmy insists is not cute at all. Not one bit, not even the way it's messy when they yank it off. 

He also insists to himself that the color on their cheeks doesn't remind him of his dream. Not at all. Not even a little bit. No way. No matter how much the visuals are rampaging in his brain. 

“I was sorta worried I wasn't in the right place,” they admit. 

“What're you doing here?” Carmy blurts out, even though he immediately recognizes it for how rude it is. 

“Uh—” Nerves flash across their face. They hold up a little paper bag. “Sorry for just showing up, I just wanted to bring you some things.”

“No—don't apologize, I shouldn't have just…” He trails off, unable to find the words. He studies the bag in their hand. “Sorry. What did you bring?” He asks, softer this time. 

“I know this might be a bit much,” they clarify nervously. They walk up the counter and set the bag down before him. “It's just, you were saying that you weren't feeling well, and I was in the area doing some shopping…”

Carmy reaches inside and pulls out several things. The items reveal themselves to be a small, green bottle of papaya pills, a little bag of ginger candies, and most importantly, a bottle of bubblegum pink pepto bismol.

As he stares at the items, a tiny flower blossoms in his chest.

“You really didn't have to get all this,” he says softly after a beat of silence. He stares at the items for a moment longer before looking up at them. There's an odd feeling in his chest. 

“I wanted to. Seriously.” They still look oddly bashful, and it's captivating. “I mean, you helped me out a ton the other night, so…”

“You didn't owe me anything.” 

“Then consider it a gift.” Their smile so effortlessly dazzles him. “Unless I can't give you gifts?”

“Yeah—I mean, no, you—” Carmy fails to stifle a quiet laugh at how ridiculous he sounds. They so easily fluster him. “Thank you,” he says finally, remembering himself. “This is…really nice.”

“I hope it helps,” they reply, and he tells himself the color on their cheeks is still from the cold. He tells himself that they're the one that looked into his eyes first, so it's okay for him to look back. “If you end up not liking it or needing it, though, it’s fine. Do whatever you want with it.”

“No, I appreciate it. Thank you,” he says again. 

They're beautiful, he thinks all of a sudden, and the thought is so potent he can't hide from it for a single second. His anxiety tells him that they're gonna hear his thoughts if he keeps thinking so loudly. The bliss of tracing his eyes over their features is worth it. He's not sure if he feels any less nauseous, staring at their darling face like this, but he can't deny he likes the way this feels. His chest aches.

Then, the obnoxious noise of someone clearing their throat reminds him that they're not alone. 

“Cousin.” Carmy's head whips around. How could he forget that Richie was right there? It's incredible how silent Richie could be when he wants to. “You gonna introduce us?”

“Shit, right, uh—” Carmy fumbles, making a hand motion with no words to match. “This is my cousin Richie. And Richie, this is, uh, my roommate.”

Oh, how he's dreaded saying those words for reasons he will see in just a matter of seconds. 

“So you're the roommate!” Richie makes a big show of it, eyebrows raised in dramatic shock. 

“Yeah, that's me.” They shrug. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise. Can't believe you're roomin’ with this guy,” Richie says, slapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder. It is promptly shoved off. “Carmen's not an easy guy to be around, I know.”

“Oh, not at all! He's a great roommate.” Carmy feels the tips of his ears growing warm. 

“Really?” Richie gives him a skeptical look. “Who would've guessed.”

“Fuck off,” Carmy snaps, but the way he mumbles makes it lack any intensity. 

They don’t stay for long. Something about needing to run some more errands. A part of Carmy wants to keep them there somehow, although there’s no logical reason for that. If anything, the faster they’re out, the better. It gives Richie less time to say something scathing that ruins their perception of Carmy. 

Not that you need any help fucking yourself over, Carmy thinks to himself distantly. 

“Well, I hope the stuff helps.” They readjust their beanie on their head, pulling it over their ears. “I’ll see you at home?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he replies. “Thanks again.” 

“No problem. Bye!”

They wave to him and Richie as they leave. As soon as the bell above the door rings and they’re out of sight, Carmy feels Richie’s eyes on him. 

Actually, he feels a number of eyes on him. 

He turns around to see his fellow chefs peeking over the deli counter, standing in a row like a line of matryoshka dolls. They freeze when they see him, but they don’t make any move to run away. Absolutely remorseless. 

“Back to your stations, chefs,” Carmy scolds them, but his meak words are quickly overtaken by noise. 

“If the two of you aren’t dating, then what the fuck is this?” Richie picks up the paper bag full of medicine. “That was some sappy shit the two of you were pulling!”

“The two of you? What the fuck did I do?” Carmy spits back. 

“What the fuck did I do,” Richie imitates, rolling his eyes. “Fuckin’ goo-goo eyes over here wants to know what the fuck he was doing.” Carmy snatches the bag out of his hand.

“You were makin’ goo-goo eyes at them,” Marcus agrees. His elbows are propped up on the glass counter. 

“And if they’re bringing you medicine, it’s serious,” Tina adds with a sly grin. 

“There’s nothing to be serious about,” Carmy insists. He feels like a broken record. “We’re just friends.”

“Friends that kiss each other,” Sydney comments. “Right. Of course.” 

“We don’t—I’ve never—” He’s a tea kettle, and the lid on him is starting to rattle. “Chefs—”

“Cousin, loosen up already. Why you always gotta make shit so serious?” Richie throws an arm around his shoulder, but Carmy shoves it off. 

“Because this shit is none of your fuckin’ business. That goes for all of you!” Carmy whips around, gesturing accusingly with his hand at the line of chefs. “Get back to work! Now!”

A sad chorus of “Yes, chef” resounds, and everyone despondently trickles back to their stations. All except for Richie, who is not a chef. 

“They’re obviously into you,” Richie tries, and Carmy’s glare could burn two perfect circles into his face. 

“Drop it,” he hisses. 

“Why’re you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like a little bitch? You’re a pussy, Carmen. That’s what you are. A pussy—”

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“No. Y’know what? I actually do have a clue, because I know you, Berzatto. You act like all that shit’s above you, but it’s not. And I’m tryin’ to do you a favor—”

“A favor? What fucking favor?” 

“I’m trying to help you get a fucking clue! That’s what! Because you’re too dense to see what’s right in front of you!”

“Richie, I happen to be doing just fine without your help. I don’t need whatever the fuck you think helping me is!”

“Then explain this to me. Explain this little thing to me, Carmen fucking Berzatto. You and Claire—”

“Richie. Don’t.”

“That could’ve been a good thing. A great thing. The two of you—”

“I told you—”

“You were obviously into each other, and yet—”

“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!” 

There’s a rage threatening to spew out of him, lava coursing under his skin and in his head. Richie’s looking at him like he knows he’s right, but he’s not. He’s not right about Carmy. He’s not right about anything. Not about any of this. 

“Fak is on the scene! What is up, guys?” 

With comedic (or arguably tragic) timing, Fak bursts through the front door with his heavy tool bag on one hand. Carmy and Richie’s heads both snap to him when he arrives. Fak freezes in his steps. 

“Fak,” Carmy says. 

“Finally,” Richie mutters. “Slow ass.” 

“Uh…I’m getting the impression I shouldn’t be here right now. Should I be here right now?” Fak takes a step back towards the door. 

“Yes, I really need you to look at the toilet,” Carmy says. Richie is uncharacteristically quiet, but Carmy can’t stand to look at him. 

“If you say so.” Fak shrugs. “What’s the damage?” 

“Mild to severe, depending on how you look at it,” is Carmy’s dry response. 

The rest of the day, Carmy operates on autopilot. When he finally remembers to open the bottle of pepto, nausea surges in him at the sight of it. He manages to force it down. Miraculously, the toilet gets fixed, and even more miraculously, no one mentions the roommate again. Not even Richie. Although Carmy does sense how badly he wants to bring it up again. 

His stomach continues its incessant rampage throughout the rest of the day. Despite improving since the pepto, it’s still generally upset. This nausea leads him back to his care package again and again throughout the rest of the day. 

The ginger candies have a sharp flavor, maybe even a bit too much, but the sharpness grounds him. It also does admittedly dim the nausea. He wonders why he’s never bothered to keep him on his person. 

“Chef?” Carmy’s cleaning his station when he hears Syd next to him. It could only be her, anyway—the sun has set, and everyone else has gone home for the day. He perks his head up to see her concerned expression. 

“Chef,” he acknowledges back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Nothing wrong with me, I mean. I was actually wondering if, uh, you were okay?”

“Me?” The question surprises him. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay. Stomach’s better, so…”

“Oh, good.” She nods. “Stuff your roommate gave you working?”

“Yeah. It is.” He rolls the candy around on his tongue. “Hand me my knife?”

“Yeah.” She slides it over to him. “And, uh, I just wanted to say—I don’t mean to be nosy. I really don’t. Earlier, everyone was just gathered over the counter, and—”

“It’s fine.”

“I just wanted to see what the commotion was about—”

“Really, it’s fine,” he repeats, firmly. “They’re just like that, anyway.”

“I—Okay. Okay.” She exhales. “It’s just—y’know. I don’t wanna be an ass. I just…”

“You weren’t. You’re not.”

“I’m just…wondering about one thing.”

“...Yeah?”

“Why have you never invited them to family?”

“Family?” This question surprises him even more than the last. “Well, family’s for…family. Just the workers.”

“I mean, yeah. But, like, sometimes it’s not, right? Like, you let Marcus’ roommate come last week.”

“Marcus was on family anyway.”

“Sure. Right. You let me bring my friend recently, though.”

“You wanted to show her where you worked, didn’t you?” 

“And Fak has family with us almost, like, all the time.”

“Fak is Fak,” Carmy reasons, and Sydney can’t argue with that. 

“I don’t mean to be an ass,” she repeats. “I’m just curious.”

Right, he thinks. She asked a question. Why have I never brought them to family?

He’s never even considered it before. Bringing them to family. It’s not a habit to bring outsiders in, for lack of better wording, but it’s not necessarily off-limits, either. He doesn’t actually  mind when others bring people in. He trusts them not to bring in anyone stupid. Mostly. As for himself…

He’s never had anyone in his life to bring before. Ever. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I guess I just never thought about it.”

“Huh.”

“Wouldn’t it be…weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know,” he says again, “I just…I just thought…” He sighs. “I didn’t wanna deal with Richie, but…”

“Little too late for that,” Sydney notes in amusement. 

“Little too late,” he echoes. 

“Well. I was just curious. Sorry if that was weird.”

“Why would it be weird?” He jokes, imitating her from earlier. 

“Shut up,” she shoots back with a grin. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s fine. It’s not weird.” He pauses for a moment, thinking about Richie. “Everyone else is an ass about it. Not you, though.”

“I try.” She grins. “I…I think everyone just gets excited because…it’s different. Seeing you with someone else like that.”

“Mm.” Carmy nods, and then pauses again. Lets it sink in. “Do I…” I shouldn’t ask this, he thinks, but he’s already started. It’s too late. “...Do I act differently?”

“Around them? Yeah. A little.”

“...” Carmy straightens up, taking a step back from his station. This is starting to feel weird. Really weird. “I do?”

“Kinda. You just seem…calmer, I think.” Sydney’s expression seems uncomfortable. “I dunno.”

“No, it’s fine. It was a dumb thing to ask.” Carmy’s making the executive decision to stop talking about this. “I gotta stay and sort through some stuff in the office, but you should head out for the night.”

“What, can’t afford to pay me overtime?” Sydney teases. Carmy rolls his eyes. 

“Partially,” he jokes back, although it’s not much of a joke. 

Nevertheless, it is almost 10 pm, so Sydney does indeed head out for the night. The whole place is eerily silent without anyone else there. There’s the sound of the rattling AC unit, noisy plumbing, and passing cars, but there’s a distinct lack of sizzling pans, knives against cutting boards, and shouting. It just feels strange, is all. 

Carmy barely remembers to replace the bottle of pepto in the bathroom before heading out. He puts the new bottle there on the shelf, and as he stares at it standing there, he considers putting other gifts there too. 

He returns to his office where the small bag of ginger candies and bottle of papaya pills sits. They’re seated on the corner of his desk. He goes to grab them, but for some reason, he doesn’t. They look like they belong there. 

Then consider it a gift, he remembers them saying earlier. Unless I can’t give you gifts? If you end up not liking it or needing it, though, it’s fine. Do whatever you want with it, he hears them saying again.

A certain possessiveness grips him then.

It was a gift, he tells himself. For me. No one else.

He decides to leave the candies and pills on his desk. Those will be just for him. 

When he finally gets home, it’s almost 12 am. He does his best to open the door carefully, but it’s as squeaky as ever. 

He’s greeted with a surprising, although not unusual sight. His roommate is curled up into a sleep ball on the couch, snuggled into the pillows and blankets. The tv is playing some youtube video essay about lost media from the early 2000s. All the lights in the apartment are off, leaving the only source of illumination to be the tv screen. 

Carmy carefully moves to turn the tv off. After he does, he turns to see if he’s woken them up. He hasn’t. They’re still in deep sleep. Very deep sleep, rather, with how they’re lightly snoring.  

That familiar ache he gets in his chest when he sees them makes itself known. It’s the ache that pulls him in, forcing him to sit on the floor next to the couch. It’s something beyond his will that makes him gaze at their peacefully sleeping face. 

His eyes trace their features like he was earlier when they stopped by The Beef, except this time, much more unabashedly. He takes note of the faint blemishes on their cheeks, the loose strands of hair in their face. The squish of their cheek against the pillows. 

Cute, he thinks to himself, not for the first time, and he’s too tired to push the feeling away. 

You’re different around them, he hears Sydney saying. Calmer.

I don’t know about that, he thinks. He absentmindedly brings a hand to brush their loose hairs out of their face. I don’t know how I feel when I’m around you. 

A part of him wonders if he should wake them up. The part of him that wins is the part that doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful look on their face. He wouldn’t want to upset them. 

He trudges into his bed instead, flopping wearily onto his mattress. It’s been a taxing day, right down to the moment he woke up this morning. His mind and body were both in shambles, and now, he’s exhausted.  

As he falls asleep, he distantly hopes for a dreamless night. 

. . . . .

“Where’s the olive oil? The pan’s heated. I need to start cooking the beef.”

Carmy stands before a pristine stainless steel pan. Next to him on the counter sits stuffed beef carefully wrapped in twine—beef braciole. 

“Guys,” he repeats, annoyed. “Guys, have you seen the olive oil?”

He turns to see Michael and his roommate sitting at a kitchen island. They’re both opening cans of San Marzano tomatoes, although it’s definitely not a two person job. 

“We haven’t seen it, Carmen,” Michael says. “Anyway, like I was saying—you should’ve seen his face. Really! When I told him I couldn’t work at the restaurant, it’s like I told him our dog died or something.”

“What I wouldn’t give to see that,” his roommate remarks, snickering and shaking their head. “Such a baby.”

Next to them, Carmy spots the bottle of olive oil. With a scowl, he snatches it. 

“Hurry up on those tomatoes, guys, I’m gonna need it real soon,” he reminds them, irritation growing. 

With the bottom of the pan coated in olive oil, he carefully places the beef into the pan. The sizzle is strangely whistle-like and high pitched. He inhales, searching for the smell of cooking meat and garlic, but he can’t seem to smell anything at all. 

“Did he cry?” They ask. 

“No, but he looked like he was going to,” Michael sneers, and the two of them are laughing again. 

“You wouldn’t wanna work with a guy like Carmy, anyway.”

“Exactly. Exactly. He doesn’t really get it, y’know. How much of a colossal fuck-up he is. I can see it in him, though. I didn’t have the heart to tell him then.”

“That’s okay. I don’t blame you. He probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

“He has no idea! And he thinks he’s fooling everyone so well, but the thing is—”

“He’s not.”

“He’s not! He’s really not.”

“Chefs, I need the tomato puree. Hand it over,” Carmy interrupts abruptly. When there’s no response, he turns around. They haven’t even opened one can of tomatoes yet. “Are you two fucking serious?”

They look at him, eyes wide, and then they’re laughing so hard they’re crying. They’re doubled over the counter, cackling and kicking their feet. 

“You’re too easy to fuck with, Carmen,” Michael gets out between chuckles. “You’ve always been like that.”

Carmy ignores him and reaches for a can of tomatoes. 

“Give me the fucking can opener,” Carmy snaps.

“Oh, you won’t need it,” his roommate answers.

As soon as Carmy grabs a can, it explodes in his face.

Puréed San Marzano tomatoes fill his hand and drip from his hair into his eyes. He steps back, staggered from the red explosion. Somehow it got all over him and  not on anything else.

“Fucking shit!” He wipes his eyes, and that’s when he remembers the beef. He rushes back to the pan. It needs tomato purée now. He lets the splattered tomato drip from his hands into the pan, filling it with sauce. It sizzles and smells like smoke.

“I could always see you for who you really were, y’know. I always knew,” Michael goes on. “I could always see it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Carmy snaps. The growing anxiety in his stomach is tightening his body and ejecting the words out. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s saying that you’re just not a good person. That’s all,” his roommate reasons. Carmy tries to keep his eyes focused on the beef, hastily spooning tomato over it. The pan’s still filling with puree. It’s overflowing. “You’re just the sort of person who will never change. Once broken, always broken, y’know what I mean?”

“If you’re not going to help, then fucking leave!” Carmy snaps, finally. He whirls around and wipes all the cans onto the floor. They explode in glorious unison, staining the floors red. “Just get out and stop getting in my fucking way!”

“But you don’t want me to leave, do you?”

“I don’t care what you do, I just need to finish this—“

“No, you care. You care if I like or hate you. You care if I stay or leave. You care about me, Carmy. You really care about me.”

“I don’t fucking care about you. I never have, and I never will.”

The beef’s burning on the pan. It’s all burning.

“Oh, Carmy…” Their arms are wrapped around his torso, squeezing him in a gentle hug. “It’s too late for you to say that sort of thing. Not anymore.”

All of a sudden, there’s a gush of wetness that soaks through his shirt. He pulls back, and their mouth is oozing tomato puree. In an instant, Carmy knows they’re dying.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses. “Fuck!”

“This is what happens,” they say, gargling through mouthfuls of puree.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because it’s you,” they answer, and Carmy wakes up.

He wakes up stumbling back from the stove by someone pulling on his shirt. The stove has pots and pans filled with flaming frozen food. He can feel the blazing heat against his skin. The orange flames are flicking off the steel pans and arch towards the ceiling, reaching. As Carmy stumbles back, he falls to the floor, barely managing to steady himself with the palms of his hands.

There’s the familiar sound of the fire extinguisher, spraying out into the base of the fire. Propped up on his elbows, Carmy watches the fire shrink with a thumping heart. His heartbeat marches in time with the tune of the fire alarm, piercing and high-pitched throughout the apartment. 

Carmy finally takes notes of his roommate, looking about as distressed as someone who just woke up to a fire in their own home. Their hair sticks up in several different directions as if they just woke up, which they…probably did. With a displeased grunt, they march over to the window to slam it open. The cloudy smoke compacted near the ceiling begins to trickle out. 

“Fucking hell,” they mutter under their breath, coughing from the smoke. They turn around to look at Carmy, expression twisted with stress. “Dude. What was that?”

“I,” Carmy starts, but the words just won’t come. He tries to move to get up, but his legs aren’t moving. 

“Carmy. Hey.” They lean down next to him, staring him in the eyes. He still doesn’t respond. “Carmen!” They snap, and he jolts. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he gets out. They help him up, wrapping his hand in theirs and yanking him upwards. 

“We should step outside while the smoke clears.” They cough as they move to grab their coat. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be gone in a couple minutes,” Carmy hears himself saying. He’s met with a blank stare. 

“So this has happened to you before?” They open their mouth, as if they’re about to say something else, but they shake their head. “No, we’re not staying in here. We may smoke everyday, but this isn’t good for us. C’mon.” 

He doesn’t quite feel his body moving as he grabs his wool jacket. He doesn’t feel it as he walks down the stairs, not even when he steps outside and the chilled night air whips at his face. He feels far, far away. 

After leaving the awful song of the fire alarm, the quiet of the night is uncharacteristically loud. If he listens closely, though, he can pick out the sound of their fire alarm, distantly ringing. Or maybe that’s just his tinnitus. 

The clicking sound of a lighter is what recenters him. He looks to his side to see them shakily holding a lighter up to their cigarette. After a couple more sparks, the flame lights.

They take a slow pull of it before wordlessly handing it to him. An olive branch of sorts. He takes it. They let the pool of smoke sit in their mouth, and then they exhale with a heavy, heavy sigh. 

“What happened back there, man?” They ask quietly. “That was…” They sigh again. “That scared the shit out of me,” they whisper, and that’s what makes it all finally settle in. 

Fuck, Carmy realizes with a pang. The realization starts in the pit of his stomach and drops lower and lower. Feeling returns to his body, and he feels cold inside and out. I really fucked up.

He can just imagine it—him, dead on his feet, sleepwalking into the kitchen. Grabbing the frozen food out of the freezer and turning the stove on high. Cooking nonsensically with plastic-wrapped chicken breasts and frozen peas. Too fucking asleep to stop the fire from starting, to stop the fire alarm that woke up his sleeping roommate on the couch.

“I used to sleepwalk, sometimes. When I was at culinary school,” he clarifies nervously. Shame douses him, coating him evenly like oil on a pan. “Or, sleepcook, I guess.”

He passes the cigarette back to them. They take it. 

“Shit,” they mutter. “Never heard of anyone doin’ that before.” 

“...Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of them are silent for a while before they speak again. 

“Carmy—why didn’t you tell me? That you—” They laugh dryly, full of irritation. He doesn’t like seeing anger on their face, hearing it in their voice. He doesn’t know if he’s ever heard them sound like this before. “That you’re prone to cooking in your sleep? Don’t you think that’s something I should know? As your roommate?”

“I—I didn’t mean to hide it,” he protests, even though he did.

“We could’ve really gotten hurt, y’know.”

“You’re right, I know, it’s just—it hadn’t happened in so long, so I just thought that I had, that I was…”

I thought I was getting better, he wants to say, but it’s stuck in his throat. It won’t come out. As per usual, he can’t get the words out. 

It always stays the same. 

“...” Strangely enough, their face  softens. “Must’ve been scary the first time.”

“What?” He wasn’t expecting their anger to dissipate so easily.

“The first time you caught yourself cooking your sleep. Were they all like this? With the fire and stuff?”

“Yeah. All the fire and stuff,” he confirms bitterly. A beat of silence. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. You shouldn’t have had to…put out a fire I made.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay you almost burned our place down, but…” The end of the cigarette sizzles, bright and orange as they inhale. “It’s not like you did it on purpose, did you?” 

“Of course not,” he rushes to say, “I would never—”

“I’m just kidding with you,” they laugh. They exchange the cigarette again. “I know you didn’t.”

Impossible, Carmy thinks all of a sudden. The nicotine usually calms him, except not today. Not right now. This is impossible.

“I thought you were mad at me,” Carmy blurts out. He can’t compute seeing a smile on their face right now. 

“I am,” they say calmly. 

“Then why? Why are you—” There’s static in his head, fuzz filling his mouth. “Why aren’t you—you should be—fucking, I don’t know—why aren’t you yelling?”

“Do you want me to be shouting at you?” 

“No! I don’t want that, I just—I just don’t understand.” There’s blood rushing in his ears. “I fucked up, so just—just get it over with already!” 

“I—get what over with?”

“Just tell me that I’m a worthless piece of shit and that you were wrong for ever seeing anything good in me,” he spits out. His eyes feel hot. He doesn’t know where all these words are coming from. “I know you want to say it, so just get it over with. Please.”

A moment of silence, broken by the drive by of a car.

“...Is that really how you think I see you?”

“How could you not?” He laughs bitterly, shakes his head. Images of Michael flash in his head. “I’ve just somehow managed to convince you that I’m worth your time. I don’t know how, but…” Frustration surges inside of him. “But now you know,” he says, finally. 

So this is how it ends, he thinks to himself. I knew it couldn’t last. Nothing ever lasts. 

We’ll call it The Bear, he hears himself saying. Michael and him at Christmas. The drawing he made of the restaurant. 

Michael’s dead, he hears Sugar sobbing over the phone. Her voice is crackly and broken through the speakers. Please come home. Please.

You didn’t even show up for your brother fuckin’ funeral, he hears Richie screaming. Your own fucking brother, Carmen! What the ever living fuck is wrong with you?

This is great, Carmy, Michael says softly to him, the gifted drawing of their restaurant in his hands. The house is on fire. There's so much fire. Thank you.

They don’t say anything for a while, opting to instead smoke their cigarette and stare distantly across the street. When they finally turn to look at him, their gaze pierces him. It’s that look that strips him bare, lays his soul out open for them to pick apart. 

“You’re allowed to mess up on onions,” they say. 

“...What?” Is all he can think to reply. 

“When I was drunk, you told me about how you dropped some onions.”

“No, I remember, I just—why are you saying that now?”

“Because this fire is the same.” They tap the ash off their cigarette, the gray dust shattering in the wind. “People make mistakes, Carmy. It’s okay.”

“This is a lot worse than spilling some onions,” he reasons weakly. They just shrug. 

“Objectively speaking, sure. I can’t deny that. But that’s not really what I’m trying to say…” They hesitate. “Can I speak plainly?”

“Please,” Carmy begs. 

Two cars whiz by before they speak again. 

“I can’t change how you see yourself,” they start. “I’m the same way. I think almost everyone is. I know I can’t make you less hard on yourself. If anything, that’s part of what made you into such an incredible chef.” They exhale shakily. “But this…with me…I don’t want it to push me away.”

“...I don’t want you to get hurt,” he confesses, messily. This isn’t like him, but he can’t seem to stop talking. I care about you too much, he thinks painfully.  

“It’s impossible to go through life without hurting others. Look—I consider you a friend, Carmy. A good friend. And I thought you felt the same, but…”

“I do,” he interrupts urgently. “You’re one of the closest friends I have,” he confesses, and their smile is beautiful. 

…I didn’t mean to say all that, he thinks, startled by himself. That was supposed to be, “I think of you as a friend, too.” 

“Then fuck up some onions. You don’t have to be a perfect person. No one can be, and I don’t want you to be. Besides—I’m not stupid. You’re not tricking me about anything. I’m pretty good at making sound judgments of people.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were stupid,” he says quietly. 

“I know you didn’t.” They keep being gentle, so gentle. 

“I…I’m not used to this,” he admits, finally. He needs to be honest with them, regardless if saying the truth is  like coughing up glass. “You're a good person. Really good. More than I'm used to, to be honest. I think…I think a part of me doesn't wanna believe it.”

“Oh.” Their pink cheeks could very well be from the cold, or from something else. “I—well. Thank you. That's nice to hear. But, ah, do you think I have some dark alter ego or something?”

“No, not like that. It’s just—there’s always another shoe, isn’t there?”

“Another shoe…” They hum. “Yeah. Unless there isn’t.”

“That’d be a first,” he says, and they laugh. 

“True enough.” The distant sound of the train. “I'm not a perfect person, Carmy.”

“I know. I don't expect that.”

“Then stop expecting it from yourself.”

“...” He blinks, staggered by their bluntness. A million arguments begin and die on the tip of his tongue, but all of them feel as cheap as the last. He knows they're right, and there's not much room for argument there. “I'll try,” he says finally with a nod. It's all he can say.

“I say it like it's an easy thing to do. I know it's not.” Their smile is knowing, rueful. “I certainly haven't gotten over it myself.”

“You also…?” The implication lays silent in the air. They nod. “I’m sorry for starting a fire,” he apologizes again, because he feels like he has to. “And for…freaking out.”

“You are forgiven. But you don’t need to apologize for, like, having emotions. That’s fucked up.” They let out an abrupt bark of a laugh, and it makes him laugh, too. “Is it, like, a stress thing? The sleepcooking?”

You’re worthless, he suddenly hears a familiar voice saying. The head chef. You’d be better off dead. You don't deserve any of this.

“Usually,” he says simply. “I can’t really…predict when it’s gonna happen, though.”

“Unfortunate. I guess it’d be too easy if you could see it coming.” They put out their cigarette on the back of their lighter, flicking off the ash. “How are you doing now?”

“I’m fine,” he responds  instantly, all on instinct. “I’m…better,” he amends, and they look happy with that. “I should be asking you that. Are you alright?”

“Not gonna lie, it was pretty scary, but I’m okay. I can look back at it as a bonding experience.”

“A bonding experience,” Carmy mutters, half out of amusement and half out of disbelief. “I guess you’re not totally wrong.”

“Nobody got hurt, right? And next time, I'll be ready.”

“There shouldn't be a next time.”

“No, I suppose not. But there might be, and that's okay.”

“But—“ He stops. “I'm sorry.”

“I know.” They pat his back. 

“Do you wanna come to family tomorrow?” He blurts out. 

“Huh?” They say, which is a pretty reasonable response. “I mean, probably. What is it?”

“Right, sorry. It's, uh, a thing we do everyday at work. One of the chefs cooks dinner for everyone, and we eat together. It's a way to, ah…have everyone get along, I guess.”

“Oh, cool!”

“And I'll be the one cooking tomorrow,” he adds hastily. God, why is this so embarrassing? “So. Yeah. If you wanna come, then…”

“You mean I get to have your cooking? Of course I wanna come,” they reply, their expression brightening. Carmy's stomach twists inward, giddy. “Oh my god, yeah. As long as it's not weird that I'm there?”

“Not weird,” he promises. “We bring people all the time. Not too many, of course.”

Except for me, he thinks. I barely even eat family enough as it is, let alone ever bringing everyone. You're the only one.

“Okay. Okay!” They make a pleased noise, stepping excitedly in place. “Then I accept. What time should I come?”

“We eat before opening, so come in around 2. The door should be open.”

“Sounds good.” They stop then, fixing him with a puzzled, amused look. “You're not just doing this because of what just happened, are you? Although I guess it'd be cool if you were—”

“I'm not, I'm not. I just…wanted to.” He's not being very convincing. To be fair, it's only half of a lie. “But I will. Make this up to you, I mean.”

“I'm just teasing. You don’t have to, but I won’t stop you. And…thanks for inviting me, I'm looking forward to it.” They yawn suddenly, eyes scrunching shut. “Think we're good to head back in now?”

“Probably, yeah.” He checks his phone. It's 1 AM. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

“It's fine, really. Besides, I did this to you the other night. And, uh—Carmy?”

“...Yeah?”

“I'm really glad you think of me as a friend,” they say, and it sounds like a confession. “I feel super lucky to have a roommate that I can call my friend, too. I…just wanted to say that. 

There are countless unspoken sentiments that Carmy wishes he had the courage, the faith to say. I didn't know how important you were going to become to me, for instance. I don't know if I can go without your company anymore. I’m not sure if I've ever liked someone so much, and that terrifies me. I never wanted to admit how much I like you.

It's too much, far too much to say aloud, but at least, finally, he can admit it to himself.

It does not always have to stay the same.

“I feel really lucky, too,” Carmy says instead, and the words come easy, easier than they ever have before.

~

@zorrasucia

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #others #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #my writing #my fics #i had this ready for the past week and i just kept forgetting to post it. that happens when u have a job lmfao #anywayyyy like i said its the end of act 1!!! carmy is gonna be happier and more open with them from here on out... at least he's gonna try #slow progress is still progress! THE SLOW BURN IS SLOW BURNING ALL OVER THE PLACE #rly excited to play arnd with these guys more... any thoughts are appreciated + thanks SO MUCH for the kind words and reads so far!! #Alexithymia fic

[junk-story]

Interview: Interview Archive 1, 12.1993 - Ongaku to Hito Special Edition

BUCK-TICK is an exceedingly rare sort of band. Although the Band Boom has ended up vanishing as if it never happened at all, in an area totally unrelated to the Boom, where no one else is drawing a crowd, is a group with a unique stance who have continued following their own path of “individuality”. Their stylish visuals have the lingering scent of decadence. Their lyrics, like “I just want to go mad”, are laden with the aesthetics of self-deprecation. And, with “strange” sounds that have absolutely no roots in Western rock, and truly catchy melodies – from any angle, they are a “Japan Original”. Furthermore, although these “nonconformists” have also continued to be a great success commercially, they are still breaking new ground. Although their eerie ambiance is often misunderstood by ordinary people, this unique sensation is something that anyone can have a share of. Sakurai Atsushi reigns with a “negative charisma”, but his absolute desire to escape and narcissism in the sense of “being lenient with oneself” can happen to anyone. I support the weakness of humanity.*

Ichikawa: How do you think BUCK-TICK are seen by ordinary people?

Sakurai: …Maybe...I suppose people who aren’t interested just aren’t interested at all. Because no matter how many times something that doesn’t interest me shows up on TV, that’s where it ends for me.

Ichikawa: Despite your CD sales, you’re passive about this.

Sakurai: Yeah, because there are people who don’t listen to music, so even if I stood face-to-face with such a person and said, “It’s me”, they’ll just be like, “And who are you?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: Conversely, what kind of people do you think listen to BUCK-TICK?

Sakurai: Hmmm...I think a lot of them are daydreamers. (laughs) Even watching the same movies, like Alain Delon1 rather than Jurassic Park. (laughs) When I read the letters I’ve received, that’s the feeling I get.

Ichikawa: What kind of letters do you get most?

Sakurai: In my case, I get everything from the heavy stuff to the light stuff. (laughs)

Ichikawa: What sort of content is in the light letters?

Sakurai: “Your stage outfit was so cool this time”. (laughs)

Ichikawa: And what about the heavy letters?

Sakurai: The heavy ones are incredible, really – like a 21 year old girl who got divorced even though she has a child, or things about their family members, or about how they’re sick. Also, there are many people who write emotional content.

Ichikawa: It’s become Kitaro’s Yokai postal service2, hasn’t it?

Sakurai: Hahaha. But, there’s nothing I’m able to give them...you know.

Ichikawa: Although this idol-like reaction is understandable, is there no “added hidden value” appearing more and more?

Sakurai: Hmmm, I wonder...although I’m making music...music isn’t necessary to living, and you won’t die without it. So I think people who aren’t interested don’t listen to music that deeply, and naturally, they don’t synchronize their listening to the situations I find myself in and my reality. So the band is getting more media exposure, which is supposed to give us more opportunities to be heard, but I wonder…

Ichikawa: But on the other hand, the Yokai Post Box has letters arriving to it frequently, right? Obviously, that’s different from just a popular song and supporting some harmless rock music.

Sakurai: But I expect that the people who are watching idols are definitely greater in number. Because they’re all the same.

Ichikawa: But BUCK-TICK are already big names, and you’ve been reigning on the front lines for 6 years. Naturally, you should be different from them. And hey, if you were part of SMAP3, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?

Sakurai: Yeah, that would be an issue. (laughs)

Ichikawa: So for example, what do you think people come to see Sakurai Atsushi for at concerts?

Sakurai: I really don’t know...for example, I receive letters saying like, “I want to see more of your humanity4 during the MC sections”, and I think it might be better if I expressed my humanity more. Also, I think the songs I want to sing and the songs people want to hear may be different...I’m always confused.

Ichikawa: You still haven’t gotten a grip on what your stage persona is.

Sakurai: No, if I think about understanding it, it’s easy, but I think hard about it and then it confuses me. I suppose there won’t be any problem if I do everything like an entertainer with a strong sense of providing a service, but.

Ichikawa: Like, “I’m Sakuraiiiiii!”

Sakurai: Wahahahaha.

Ichikawa: What’s an example of a song people are expecting?

Sakurai: Songs like “Speed”, “Jupiter”, or “JUST ONE MORE KISS”, don’t you think?

Ichikawa: And the song you think they’ll dislike?

Sakurai: Taiyou ni Korosareta. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aah, Sakurai’s song about the thing at the core, the “aesthetics of self-deprecation.” Well, it certainly seems like a song that was written sitting on a hill of despair.

Sakurai: Oh? (laughs) But lately, I’ve received letters saying that Taiyou ni Korosareta was good, so I’ve thought that maybe I’m not as misunderstood as I thought I was.

Ichikawa: So you ought to have more self-confidence, Sakurai.

Sakurai: I should, right. More...not to flatter myself, but I hope I can cross the line to becoming an entertainer.

Ichikawa: Well, I think it’s enough that you’re performing as this “dark entertainer”. What do you think is lacking?

Sakurai: It’s not that something’s lacking...it’s that it’s incomplete.

Ichikawa: Well, then where is something lacking?

Sakurai: Mmm...in my own head. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Oi, come on now.

Sakurai: (laughs) I think it could be anything, but, for example, when I go out in front of 2,000 people, I just don’t get that same high anymore.

Ichikawa: So even though you have this stately and dark look – you don’t even think things like, “These 2,000 people have gathered to come see me!”?

Sakurai: No, I don’t. There can be people who are looking at something else even if they’re directly in front of me. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aren’t you being narrow-minded about this?

Sakurai: It’s caught my attention. So I stare at a single point and act like an idiot who doesn’t see that sort of reaction to me.

Ichikawa: Wow. First of all, haven’t you ever thought, “I’m popular”?

Sakurai: When they’re screaming, “kyaaaaa!” (laughs)

Ichikawa: A live venue is really a melting pot of those “kyaaa” screams; does that make you feel anxious?

Sakurai: I don’t think it’s anxiety, but...I’m always agonizing5 over if I should take myself less seriously. It’s not only people who are listening to the music and enjoying it; there are also many people enjoying another part of the performance, so I think I should do what I want, but...I’m insecure.

Ichikawa: Have you ever thought about the influence you have?

Sakurai: I have. For example, it’s easy to tell when there are kids wearing the same fashion as I am. Also...I don’t know if this is my influence or not, but...the people who like the same world that I do. They give me these detailed, maniacal (laughs) opinions on things, like, “that musical is really good”, “have you read this novel?”, “you like this type of aesthetic, right?”, “this thing you said in an interview really spoke to me”, like that.

Ichikawa: Fundamentally, is it that the recipients of your work can’t accept Sakurai Atsushi as a real person? With your charisma, it’s like you’re magnified up 5 or 10 times bigger in their minds. And those voices, their expectations are like, “Well, if it’s Sakurai-san, naturally he’ll understand my aesthetic sense.” I think it would be natural to gain some self-confidence from those voiced expectations and support.

Sakurai: It would be better not to betray that sentiment, but when it comes to my own conviction...I think if I can put out more that says, “this is how my world is”, I’ll be able to clearly have that conviction.

Ichikawa: Even with Sakurai having this internal conflict, you’re being seen by ordinary people, other than your fans6, as a so-called “rockstar” now – in your case, you must be feeling the difference of that.

Sakurai: I do. Even people who don’t know music have said, “Ah, it’s that guy” – although I had just come there to have a meal. (laughs) I’m human just the same as a salaryman that’s the same age from that area, so..while I think that about myself, I guess they’re in a position where they can’t see it.

Ichikawa: Even if you don’t want to be considered special, in the first place, rock really must be thought of as “exceptional”. Moreover, being exceptional is the biggest characteristic of BUCK-TICK. Do you not have any awareness that this means you are exceptional?

Sakurai: I’m also very aware of that. It’s both extremes. There are also times where I want to say, “Leave me alone!”, turn my nose up and walk away, but (laughs) that’s also tiring, so there’s the converse argument to be made, too, like, “I’m a human just like you, so leave me alone.”

Ichikawa: Do you think things like, for example, that you could be as self-absorbed with how exceptional you are as Ei-chan7?

Sakurai: …I really do, without everyday life.

Ichikawa: What I’m asking is, can’t you become that way?

Sakurai: I can’t~. I don’t like being interfered with, and I switch Sakurai Atsushi off in those moments. (laughs)

Ichikawa: But there’s David Bowie, who isn’t doing fan service around the clock, but at work...(laughs) As a charismatic person, you can behave as you see fit, right? Although I think you could do it if you tried, you’d always agonize between those two selves.

Sakurai: I wonder why...because I’m afraid of being caught off guard?

Ichikawa: Don’t you think you’re cool?

Sakurai: there are times when I think, “I am super cool”, but there are also times where I think, “What am I doing?!” (laughs) I’m hard on myself, maybe.

Ichikawa: But, it’s simpler8 to think of yourself as cool, isn’t it?

Sakurai, Yes, much simpler. But in order for me to think so, I have to aim for being an entertainer, and I’m no good.

Ichikawa: This orientation you have toward being an entertainer is also being taken too far, actually – it’s like chloroform you breathe in every day until you lose consciousness.

Sakurai: Wahahahaha. That’s harsh!

Ichikawa: Don’t you want to become more arrogant and charismatic?

Sakurai: I really just want to shine within music, if it’s something I’m able to do. Aah...I see...maybe...I’m rebelling against it, aren’t I. Everyone views me as a rockstar, so I wonder if maybe I simply want to betray that notion and rebel against it.

Ichikawa: Does the so-called narcissistic state, where you can think of yourself as cool, not last long? It seems like only the high of not caring what the people around you think lasts, but. (laughs)

Sakurai: It doesn’t really last, no. It’s like...I end up able to see reality. That I’m someone who can go as far as narcissism, but can’t sustain it, I can see that.

Ichikawa: But without narcissism, the fantasy of rock won’t flourish, right? You’re a man who can’t be proactive, aren’t you?

Sakurai: Yeah...but that’s quite kind, because it makes people’s dreams of it expand more and more. I don’t really seem very kind, talking selfishly about my own needs while also saying, “I won’t show you the important parts.”

Ichikawa: If you said more, would it be like, “It’s your fault for coming to love me without my permission”?

Sakurai: (laughs) I wouldn’t say their fault...more like, it’s a waste. If I could be understood even if I didn’t say anything, I’d be extremely happy, because I hate the regret I feel after babbling out an explanation. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Then, explaining yourself to an ordinary person who thinks of you as a rocker must also be miserable.

Sakurai: That’s right. But...lately, my way of thinking about it changes all the time. Sometimes I think, “I’m gonna make that guy who doesn’t know me take another look!”, and other times I think, “It’s no good! I’m tired.” (laughs)

Ichikawa: So then, as I thought, you do think you’re cool, don’t you? If you were to call out to the women on the roadside over there9, you have confidence they’d quickly follow you here, right?

Sakurai: If I wanted to do it. (laughs) But using the energy is more trouble than it’s worth. I think maybe I’m unkind in that way.

Ichikawa: Well, calling out to them isn’t really nice either. (laughs)

Sakurai: Oh. (laughs) But, I’m thinking I want to become less sentimental, colder.

Ichikawa: What’s the reason behind that?

Sakurai: Because I have a heart. Wahahahahaha.

Ichikawa: Well, regardless of some minor occurrences of it, (laughs) Sakurai Atsushi doesn’t have any arrogance, really, in the bigger picture of things.

Sakurai: But I’ve also come to understand that I could be just a bit easier on myself, too. I think I could become cooler if I did.

Ichikawa: As Sakurai, and as BUCK-TICK, too, even though you’re this deeply self-centered person who doesn’t care about the existence of other people at all10, I think gradually it becomes necessary to see yourself objectively. And you have to become aware of the influence you have.

Sakurai: Lately, I’ve been chatting with people who have the same tastes as me, and it’s interesting to see how I can come to see myself when I see those people. While I was drinking in Osaka, a person came and sat down who said, “I can see ghosts” – why, I wonder, is it always that sort of person who comes to me? (laughs) But, it turned to conversation about our newest song, “die”, and they said, “You’re definitely a narcissist”, and I was like, “Ah, right, right, I’d forgotten that, now that you mention it.” The person I show other people is a narcissist; I felt like I’d forgotten.

Ichikawa: In the end, those types of people are the ones who come together under Sakurai with peace of mind, don’t you think?

Sakurai: That’s true. I think the people who are thinking about me must be seeing me with some amazing eyes.11

Ichikawa: Give those “amazing eyes” a response, a spectacular one.

Sakurai: I think it will change during our current tour. (laughs)

Ichikawa: (laughs) With that – BUCK-TICK is a band where the members take walking alone endlessly to the extreme, right? The most of any in Japan.

Sakurai: That’s out of my control. There’s nothing I can do about that.

Ichikawa: And that’s also why you feel like you can’t effectively exert your influence, I imagine.

Sakurai: Hmmm...so, I expect that I’m afraid of cheapening what I do. I just did what I wanted to do, so. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Are you being careful with your words?

Sakurai: You could call it being careful; you could call it cowardice.

Ichikawa: Certainly, in the early years – you may have been perceived as cheap during the pop era of your music where your hair was straight up, but since then, I think conversely, you’re perceived as a luxury good.

Sakurai: Yeah, I think we aren’t perceived as cheap, but I certainly have fear of being thought of that way.

Ichikawa: That’s like an ordinary girl thinking, “Don’t become friends with that person” about a yankii in their same class.

Sakurai: (laughs) Is that so?

Ichikawa: This yankii is stubborn, but in reality, he’s facing the dilemma of wanting to be friends with anyone at all.

Sakurai: Exactly. (laughs) But, I’ve been thinking that from now on, we should harden up more, get colder, and that I hope that those who don’t care about our music don’t bother with it. I hope that those who do care it experience it whenever they get the chance, and that those who don’t, never experience it again.

Ichikawa: Well, but, you’re so cool, so wouldn’t it be better to be more free-spirited?

Sakurai: Hahaha. I’m always overthinking things like that.

Ichikawa: I wonder if that overworrying is part of your personality.

Sakurai: Hmmm...I don’t know. But I’m always thinking about how I want others to enjoy and be happy.

Ichikawa: Even so, there are a lot of ups and downs in everyday life. (laughs)

Sakurai: Hahaha. I may not be handling them so well.

Ichikawa: Well, in the end, trouble always ends up coming about.

Sakurai: And that’s why all you can do is stand your ground, right...or I’m going to act out that pretense. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Have you been acting pretentious lately?

Sakurai: Quite pretentious.

Ichikawa: Anyway, you’ve got a good face for it.

Sakurai: Yeah.

Ichikawa: Oh, an easy agreement on that from this guy.

Sakurai: Fufufufufufu.

Ichikawa: So, if you acted like you owned the place, you could powerfully establish your own world – and moreover, externally, Sakurai is already waiting for it. All that’s left is you feeling like doing it.

Sakurai: ...it’s troublesome, you know.

Ichikawa: You sure are BUCK-TICK’S frontman.

Sakurai: (laughs) I want to have an effective presence that has a detailed edge to it. More than feeling like a big, enveloping presence.

Ichikawa: Aren’t you seeking a long life full of detail?

Sakurai: No way! (laughs) But, lately I’ve realized this. Because I’m using energy on this tour. (laughs) How can I say this...it’s like more...pushing forward the next day while feeling like, “I’m losing it, aren’t I?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: You’re a man predestined to being a paradox.

Sakurai: ...Has this ended up being an unspectacular interview? (laughs)

Ichikawa: Well, even if we sang “Shimauta”12 at karaoke, we didn’t sing “die”, so. (laughs) It’s considered special, you know, definitely.

Sakurai: Even if we’re doing something special, like – I end up feeling like everything is lumped together. I feel like the people who listen to music have become cowards, too. Like the provocation is frightening to them.

Ichikawa: Even though the propagation of provocation is the theme of this band.

Sakurai: Right. And moreover, we’re trying to even out the high and low points of unevenness, and there’s a feeling of something unseen moving.

Ichikawa: When it’s that way, you can only go back to the basics and put your hair straight up again!

Sakurai: Right? Although I wasn’t aware of it during the time my hair was up, that “We are special” thing.

Ichikawa: But I think if you put it up now, you might be able to do it having that awareness.

Sakurai: Imai currently has a mohawk while having that awareness.

Ichikawa: Well then, next will it be Sakurai Atsushi with his hair up?!

Sakurai: When should I put it up...people might say, “It’s uncool!” (laughs) I really don’t want to use my energy on that sort of thing. (laughs)

~~~~~ Footnotes: * This makes more sense as you read the interview - basically, I think he's saying that he argues Sakurai ought to be more lenient with himself. 1 A French movie star. 2 A reference to a manga. Kitaro is a “sullen ghost boy” who “protects others from malicious spirits”. 3 The biggest name in Johnny’s of that time, and still one of their biggest ever. 4 Human-ness? I don’t know a better word for this in English. They want him to emote, talk more, things like that. 5 Very dramatic word choice here – literally “suffering until you faint”. 6 Who are not ordinary people, obviously, lol. 7 Eikichi Yazawa, a big Showa-era rockstar. 8 Simpler in the sense of more comfortable; less work. 9 I wonder if he was actually gesturing to someone, or if this was hypothetical. 10 I think he’s ribbing him here – calling him out on his bullshit. Sakurai is repeatedly trying to say this about himself and then contradicting it. 11 In other words, they are seeing a version of him that he doesn’t believe actually exists. 12 A 1992 song by the band “The Boom”.

~~~~~ Some final translation notes:

I don't know who put the LibreOffice suggestion on my dash, but I used that to type this up this time instead of Google docs, and it seems to have preserved the footnotes (at least on desktop.) I'll try and test this on mobile too but hopefully it's a better experience!

Also, just a basic note on "cool" in Japanese - kakkoii. It's commonly translated as "cool" but really encompasses things like being attractive, sexy, etc. in ways I think the word in English doesn't. I think its usage packs more punch when you think of it that way, as like "heart eyes, motherfucker" cool.

#buck tick #sakurai atsushi #atsushi sakurai #ongaku to hito #jrock #visual kei #quartz translates #translation

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so we're one episode in and we got: Eddie casually touching Buck more than he has in the past 3 seasons, Buck pretty much asking Eddie out, considering Eddie's reaction to it was "why don't you take your gf instead", buddie being certified besties in that nice way we like to see, with the banter, and the jokes, and the underlying softness of it all, Eddie explicitly asking Buck for help in a parenting issue because he thinks Buck is better equipped to handle it, Buck straight up ogling shirtless Eddie and also looking at Eddie like he hung the moon because man contains multitudes, Eddie constantly reassuring Buck even when he's just being his self deprecating self, callbacks to Eddie's introduction, the grenade, that call with Hector, the panic attacks conversation, the tsunami, and who knows what else because I keep finding them, like, what????????

#????????? #911 #911 spoilers

[loserdiaz]

wip wednesday! 🩹🩺

tagged by the lovelies @prince-buck-diaz @honestlydarkprincess @panbuckley 💗

this is from the nurse eddie teacher buck au! if you wanna be tagged when i post this fic interact with this post

"You know, I almost became a firefighter." Buck says and Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Really?" 

"I was kind of a wild card after I graduated high school? I just couldn't seem to settle down." He shrugs. "First I became a bartender, although that didn't last long. Then I worked at a ranch, construction, surf instructor…" Buck starts to count all of his jobs. "And then I went through the academy. Became a probie even." 

"What happened?" 

"Well, like I said… It was hard for me to settle down. I was a little bit of a fuck up." Buck says sheepishly and self-deprecating and Eddie frowns, wanting to protest at that but at the same time not wanting to interrupt Buck. "I was all over the place and I made pretty serious mistakes— in the moment I didn't think about it but in hindsight I know that I was kind of an asshole. Anyway, one day my Captain had enough of me and fired me." 

Buck shrugs, trying to sound casual and like it's not a big deal but Eddie can say the shame underneath his eyes. 

"You know, it's probably for the best." Eddie says, half jokingly but also half serious. 

You're here with me, after all. Eddie thinks.

Instead, he says— "If you get hurt this much working as a teacher in an elementary school I don't even want to imagine what would happen to you as a firefighter." 

Eddie genuinely doesn't. Imagining Buck in danger or seriously, gravelly hurt— it makes a chill run down his spine and goosebumps rise in his arms. It makes this illogical and stupid part of him pull Buck in and wrap him in bubble paper, hide him away from the world and keep him safe forever. 

"Yeah, right." Buck huffs, bringing Eddie back to reality.

"With your luck you'd probably end up crashed by the firetruck. Or trapped in a fire." Eddie says, trying to smile but probably failing miserably at it.  "Hell, you have such bad luck that a lightning would probably strike you and kill you." 

"That could happen regardless of me being a firefighter or not."

"Please, stop tempting the universe." 

"You started it."

tagging (no pressure): @thewolvesof1998 @monsterrae1 @heartshapedvows @buddierights @prettyboybuckley @bigfootsmom @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @ebdaydreamer @transbuck @transboybuckley @911onabc @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @rewritetheending @devirnis @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @wildlife4life @diazblunt and anyone else who wants to do it!

#wip wednesday #nurse eddie teacher buck au #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #911 fic #911 wip #my wips #my writing

[pyroangelo]

I cant stop thinking about the distinction of reading buddie moments into the episode vs analyzing it through the lenses of Buck’s jealousy. I just keep getting stuck on the idea that Buck and Eddie were kinda just being bad friends to each other.

Eddie was so flippant throughout, right at the start he does ask Tommy if Buck’s tagging along to Vegas but when he hears Buck isnt he just shrugs and then they’re off. Then he’s kinda not meeting Buck’s eye that entire call with the cyclist trapped in the sewer. And again fully asking Buck what his plans are and then just shafting him to babysit Chris is truly wild to me.

But then we have Buck who likes Tommy and wants to get to know Tommy, see that Eddie and Tommy got real close real quick and instead of communicating or anything, his insecurities take over and he’s seething jealous, he’s feigning interest in a basketball game Eddie’s already asked him to come to several times as an excuse to see Tommy. Sure the scene in the firehouse where Eddie’s on the phone Buck is so desperate to get his attention, another time where they’re honestly just being bad friends and not communicating, Buck’s not outright saying he wants to hangout and Eddie’s not paying any attention to Buck. But again Buck only wants Eddie’s attention so Eddie can ask him again to come to the pick up game, he fully orders a new ball from Amazon to keep feigning interest.

And then he’s dragging Chim into his mess so he has an excuse to go to game, love Chim fully just seeing through Buck and saying he’s his “basketball beard.” Then he fully tackles Eddie, maims him(his own self-deprecating words) and then he finally gets Tommy to come and pay attention to him, and he admits “trying to get your attention has been exhausting”

So it was never really about Eddie and Buck feeling like he was being replaced as Eddie’s best friend, the fact that Tommy brings it up and Buck kinda just brushes that off tells me that Buck really isn’t cognizant of any romantic feeling for Eddie, at the moment at least.

There are three ways I see at framing the jealousy, First Buck thought what he was feeling was jealousy at Tommy being friends with Eddie, with how his pep talks with Maddie were going im sure it felt like that at first. Second theres feelings of jealousy buddie fans are projecting onto the situation, i am guilty of this too. But the third is the truth that Buck’s jealousy was actually directed at Eddie for monopolizing Tommy’s time and we can see that in Buck’s actions theoughout the episode. Everything Buck did was to try insert himself into Tommy and Eddie’s friendship.

That thought has kept me rewatching the episode. And my little Buddie heart is at odds with it still because man Buck and Eddie just kinda treated each other poorly this episode. But i guess the Miscommunication tag is popping for a reason and the jealousy is seething through everything. Eddie was mainly an obstacle to the friend Buck really wanted to make and he didnt communicate any of his frustrations to Eddie about it. And Eddie was just not really regarding Buck at all in his new friendship with Tommy.

Two steps forward one step back. Paula Abdul save me from these teen drama ass firefighter.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #i am not immune to jealousy fic writing tactics #rant #911 7x04 #long post

[canonicallyobserving911]

Anti Bucktommy

Eddie deserves better than that raggedy storyline he was handed.

Don't read below the cut if you ship bucktommy because this is an ANTI-BUCKTOMMY ZONE!

Full Disclosure: Eddie is my favorite character and IMO the way he was charcterized in 7x4 was horrifically horrible.

It's been a few hours since the episode aired and I believe I'm finally at a place where I can articulate how damn angry I am about the way EDDIE DIAZ was treated throughout the episode.

Before it aired, I was still on the fence regarding if I should watch live because I didn't want Buck and Eddie to argue/fight but I sure as hell didn't want either of them to get injured. I really tried to keep an open mind about Buck’s storyline but I'm not sure how to process the fact that they made Eddie out to be the villain for the third time. First it was the lawsuit, then it was Buck's coma dream where he was charcterized as "Angry" and now this. He was the one injured but Tommy had to tell Buck to call Eddie and he was just like "ok" when pre-Tommy Buck would have taken Eddie to the hospital and stayed with him until he was better. But it appears everyone forgot how Buck dropped everything to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie’s breakdown since Buck finally kissed a guy.

Eddie

So... first things first. Eddie FINALLY ADMITTED HE'S TAKEN but when did that happen because Marisol has been on screen for like 5.098 seconds in 4 episodes. Second, why didn't Eddie ask her to babysit Chris? I mean if they're in a committed relationship or whatever, then shouldn't he have asked her? That would have made more sense but if he had then he wouldn't have been able to ask Buck to do it. And finally, why was his actions towards Buck made to seem like he was intentionally being mean? The pre-7x4 Eddie Diaz wouldn't have done that because he knows how self-deprecating Buck can be. Reminder he called Buck Evan first and it wasn't like he was trying to put him in his place like Tommy was and will do. Tommy's actions towards Buck didn't show that he even liked him since he was dismissive but this isn't about that, it's about Eddie.

Now, I still can't tell if Eddie's actions were supposed to be funny or WTF but the way they had him acting like he was inconsiderate towards Buck’s feelings was just WRONG! Furthermore making it seem like he was using him and rubbing his nose in it since he had a new friend was NOT OK! FYI, the way everything played out validated some of those Facebook moms' thoughts because they've already posted that they believe Eddie uses Buck to babysit for him so he can go out and have fun 👀.

Additionally, Eddie was shown to be the one Buck’s affection... no fuck that, LOVE was directed towards only for Buck to literally injure him and ACT like he did it because he wanted to be with fucking Tommy Kinard? I call BULLSHIT and at this point I don't like Buck very much right now because of the way he acted in this episode.

Showing Eddie using Buck to babysit Chris and talking at him and ignoring him while he was hanging out with the guy who basically called Buck stupid and unbelievable to his face was just bad writing. Of course there will be those who say, "Let the story play out because it was just one episode" but the audience has been here before waiting for Buck to finally get it and nothing changed except he's dating a man now. None of this was ok and even though Maddie told him don't do it again, that was fine I guess but what in the actual fuck was this raggedy ass storyline? There was a better way to handle this without making Eddie the villian.

If all Tim Minear wanted to do was set Buck up with someone other than Eddie, then he could have picked a better character than Tommy. Also, there's an article that indicates he was planning to bring Lucy back for this storyline and it's ridiculous. She already put her lips on Buck without his permission and Tommy did the same thing and so did Taylor.

At this point, I don't know how to feel about Buck. But I do care about Eddie who was called "Angry" in Buck’s coma dream and who Buck actually fucking physically injured during a basketball game because he's jealous that Eddie was hanging out with Tommy.

I can't support a toxic relationship and that's what I saw happening between Buck and Tommy in 7x4.

IMO, The math ain't mathing and this is... not good storytelling.

#EddieDeservesBetter

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #anti eddiemarisol #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #anti tommy kinard #Anti bucktommy #anti marisol #oliver stark #ryan guzman #Eddie deserves better

[spaceprincessem]

and some things you just can’t speak about | 42k buddie fic | ao3

[or the 118 support group therapy au]

All of the lightheartedness seeps out of the room and Eddie purses his lips together, pushing them to the side of his mouth. He doesn’t want to think about Shannon. The lingering anger and bitterness. The guilt snaked around his ribcage, reminding him that it’s unfair to be upset with a dead person. He doesn’t want to think about the way her eyes fluttered when she told him she wanted a divorce. How her lashes feathered together when they fell shut for the last time. In the end, Eddie knows they wouldn’t have worked out. High school sweethearts who just wanted to have fun, thrown into life too quickly by two pink lines and a recruiting pamphlet that promised a rewarding future. But now that Shannon is gone, really, truly gone, Eddie feels alone. Alone and undeserving and stumbling through the dark with his hands tied behind his back. And he gets that it won’t always be like this, or he holds onto the idea that things will get better with grasping fingers — he is paying Frank for a reason, but —

But.

But maybe Eddie will always be alone. And he has Christopher, the best goddamn kid in the entire world, but having a child and having a partner are two very different things. He doesn’t even have a fucking best friend, let alone any close friends he’d lean on when everything gets too heavy. It’s a small comfort to know his Abuela and Tía Pepa are only a phone call away, but he can’t ask them to shoulder his burdens.

“People are supposed to wake up from comas speaking a new language or discover they’re suddenly a musical genius,” Chimney says, his smile forced as his eyes gloss over. “I survived a life altering event, but I still feel the same.” 

Chimney shudders on the inhale and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood. It’s the only thing keeping him from screaming.

“I feel,” Chimney starts again, he’s leaning forward, elbows pressed into his knees, eyes hard on the floor, “I feel—” he cuts off with a wounded noise trapped in the back of his throat.

“Stuck.” Buck says quietly.

Chimney scrubs a hand over his face, “Yeah,” he looks at Buck, something close to a self-deprecating smile tugging up in the corner of his mouth, “stuck.”

 “Me too.”

Eddie’s surprise at hearing himself speak for the first time since he was introduced isn’t nearly as shocking as realizing that both he and Buck say the same thing at the same time. Eddie trails his gaze up the line of Buck’s neck, watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and finds those glacier lake eyes looking right at him. Eddie’s never been the type of person to stand down. To roll over and bare his belly. He won’t look away, can’t concede to that, but the idea of being seen by a complete stranger is unnerving and Eddie feels a little defenseless. Bobby clears his throat and they both blink out of their strange standoff. Eddie’s flush only burns hotter when he sees Hen and Chim share a look like it’s an entire conversation and something deep and unknown twinkle in Bobby’s eyes.

“That’s something we can all think about for next week,” Bobby smiles knowingly, “where are we stuck in life? And, maybe,” he turns towards all of them, “we just might figure out how to help each other move forward.”

hello all my lovely friends it is here! tagging everyone who showed interest in the story! 

@shortsighted-owl @ajunerose @colonoscopys @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @mumucow @justlovehimanyway @monsterrae1 @sibylsleaves @spotsandsocks @pirate-hunter @paranoidbean @ashavahishta @swiftiebuckleys @scifiromance7 @canonicallyobserving911 @babytrapperdiaz @octobertulip @ci5mates @mikereads @the-likesofus @buddierights

#buddie #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie fic #also god im sorry this fic is so long LMAO

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Look @slenbee sent me a very nice centaur gif and it sent me into a wee bit of a rabbit hole. 👀

Save a Horse, Ride 'em Cowboy

Pairing: Centaur!Bucky Barnes X GN!Reader

Warnings: 🤠🤠 me in being inconsistent with everything 🤠🤠, establishing/ed relationship, a sexy pillow placement, it's a bit more... Horsy this time 😅, they fuck, fluid bonding, cumming loads, cream pies and cumming on reader, nipple play, slightly sub!Bucky, unedited and written on my phone

🐎🐎🐎

Bucky has decided he'll never be able to set foot in your apartment again. He just can't. Every time he looks at a piece of your furniture all he can think about is how fucking beautiful you look bent over it. And it's not him imagining it, it's memories from all the times he's 'fucked your brains into outer space'. There is just something about you, the two of you together are explosive.

After the first time, he stayed at your apartment all weekend. It wasn't his plan to do that, in fact he knows Steve was pissed at him for missing their afternoon gym session, but Bucky just couldn't stop. And you were begging him so sweetly to keep going, who was he to deny you or himself? It was only when you ran out of condoms that you both thought some fresh air would do you good.

That weekend feels like a lifetime ago now. A lifetime of fun and laughing and so much sex he thought he might actually die the weekend you went away with friends. But this is serious, he has purposefully invited you to his apartment. A place the two you haven't fucked on every possible surface. He can look at his kitchen island and not instantly get hard.

He stomps his hooves on the thick, soundproofing carpet, his hands fidgeting with his hair. It's ridiculous that he's just standing by his door, waiting for you to ring the buzzer but he is. He got home an hour early, raced through a last minute clean and shower, and now he was waiting for you to get here.

Bucky thinks about doing another sweep of the apartment. He knows he has everything for this weekend- a supply of condoms that would put a brothel to shame, enough lube you could bathe in it, and your favourite movie snacks. This is going to be the perfect weekend.

He nearly jumps out of his coat when the buzzer goes off, but then seconds later you're there. Your face is split into a big grin and your bag is slung over your shoulder. You launch yourself at him like you didn't see him last night or the night before. Your lips collide, your fingers dig into his damp hair, and he finally relaxes a little. Bucky wraps your legs around his waist as he backs into his apartment far enough to slam his door shut.

Your lick and nibble at his bottom lip until he finally relents and lets you fuck your tongue into his mouth. It does what it always does. Everything in his head clouds over and his senses are overwhelmed with you. He gasps, lips slick and struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Twelve hours is too long," you hum against his cheek, your hips grinding against his stomach.

"Sometimes I wonder if you just keep me around for my dick."

It's a joke, a shitty self deprecating one, but that has you immediately stopping. You pull your face far enough away from his, and Bucky can see how his kissing ruins you just as much as you ruin him.

"Buck," you take a deep breath, "I was gonna wait to say this over dinner for some romantic shit, but you clearly need to hear it now."

He freezes. He can't help it. Anxiety drips down his spine and hindquarters. He has to resist the urge to side step, to stomp his hooves, fuck even to shake his head. His instincts are telling him to move to get rid of this energy, but he can't. All he can manage is for his fingers to flex against your perfect ass

"There is so much to you, well beyond the physical. You are the sweetest, most selfless being I have ever met. And you're right, your dick game is impeccable. But I keep you around because I fucking love you."

His knees buckle. His heart jumps into his throat. Whatever he thought you would say, it wasn't that. It couldn't be that, because who could love someone like Bucky?

He kisses you again. Words aren't going to come out of his mouth any time soon, so he has to show you how much your words mean to him. With every lick and suck and scrap of his teeth across your lips, Bucky pours in all his emotions. Your hips grind on harder on to the flat plain of his stomach and your fingers are ripping at his shirt.

"If you don't fuck me, we are gonna have a problem." You groan into his mouth, not begging him but demanding.

It's a blur of knocking over plants and discarded clothes to get to his bedroom. He really needs to find a better place than this tight cornered and narrow halled apartment, but every time he bumps into something you laugh a little and that makes his heart light up. You groan when your back meets the wall beside his bed.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Keep being rough with me and I might cum before you even have a chance to get your dick wet."

Bucky stomps his back hoof, his head dropping to your shoulder. He knows he's blushing and that his cock is aching to be inside you, to fill you, just so he can watch his cum leak out. He shivers as your fingers graze the scars on his back.

"Do you wanna be rough with me? Finally gonna let go and fuck me stupid on your big horse cock?"

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles.

"Too much?"

"Fuck, no, I'm trying not to fuckin' cum from your slutty mouth."

He feels your smile, the apple of your cheek rising up against the side of his neck. Bucky lifts his head so he can see it. Your face shines with mischief and love and Gods how did he get so fucking lucky? He shouldn't question it, he should accept the gift of you.

"I have a second present for you," you smile bigger, dirtier, like the thoughts in your head are running rampant. "I went to the doctor's last week."

"I assume you aren't dying, doll."

"Nope, in fact, they gave me a squeaky clean bill of health."

"Okay..."

"And a certain bird also told me that last time you went you also got a squeaky clean bill."

"I-" Bucky's cheek heat even hotter, pink turning to flaming red. "Fucking, Sam."

"No, fucking me, without a condom."

To emphasize your declaration, you grind hips back against Bucky's abs again. One hand moves into his hair and the other moves to his pec. Your finger circles his nipple until he stomps again.

"Oh... Oh, fuck, doll."

He crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Bucky's tongue fucks into your mouth with urgency. When his hands rip your clothes from your body, the moan you make is unreal. His eyes roll back into his head for a moment. He can't believe it, can't believe you.

"Oh I'm just getting started." You slide down his front and push him until his back legs hit the bed. "On your back, cowboy."

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but soon enough Bucky is on his back. He feels ridiculous with his legs up in the air and when you push a pillow under him to support his back he nearly comes off the bed. Maybe this wouldn't work. There is a reason they say don't fix what isn't broken and the way you've had sex in the past is definitely still good.

Before he can make the suggestion, you're straddling his waist, lined up right over his hard cock. You roll your hips gently, teasing him while you pop open the bottle of lube. Bucky moans, can't hold the needy sound in his throat when he sees you.

Your mouth hangs slack as your fingers prepare yourself, fingers working in and out your body. Bucky wants to reach for you, wants to dig his fingers into your hips and make you grind harder and faster on his cock. His fingers twitch and shivers completely down to his hooves.

"Bucky, touch yourself, I wanna see how hard your nipples get. Show me."

He curses, screws his eye shut to keep himself together even as precum smears across his belly. He only opens them again when you stop moving.

"Doll," he draws out, his fingers pinching both his nipples as you grind faster.

Your chest heaves. Sweat glistens across your skin. Bucky wants to come, wants to lose himself in you until he can't think anymore. He twists his nipples harder, hips rocking up as the pain shoots right to his cock.

When your hands wrap around his cock he shouts. His body quakes and his breath rattles in his chest as you rise up. You line yourself up with his aching cock. The tip eases in, you hover for a moment, clenching around him in a teasing rhythm.

"Please, please doll," he pleads.

"Show me you've earned it," you smile, sinking a little deeper, not nearly enough.

Bucky's hands fly off his nipples and dig into the sheets beneath him. They burn a little, ache more than anything. You suck in a harsh breath at the sight of him.

"So fucking beautiful," you moan.

It's a wet squelch from all the lube, the sound of you fucking yourself down on his cock in one smooth motion. Bucky can't take his eyes off you, using him for your pleasure. His cock aches, your hole warm and wet and fucking perfection. He babbles, words of praise fall out of his mouth as he gets to watch you work on his cock. The sheen of lube between your thighs, the sweat on your body, the spit that slicks your lip every time you lick them, it's all so much.

But it isn't enough. He needs to see you covered in his cum. Bucky tries to make that sudden thought, as instinctual as breathing, a string of words that makes sense.

"Cum, fuck, fuck, fuck, doll, wanna cum on-"

His words cut off with a groan, but you get it. You understand him, in a way no one has. Tears spring to his eyes for a moment, but they don't last. The arousal and need burning him demands release. He wants to cum, but you need to cum first.

"Holy-, fuck, yes, gods yes, Buck. I'm so close. Want see you fucking drench me, soak me. Fuck gods. You feel so good."

You sit back, taking Bucky even deeper. He whines, can barely control himself. You stroke yourself in tandem with the movement of your hips.

"Bucky, look at me, look at me cum on your cock. Watch me make a mess."

As if he could look anywhere else, his eyes are glued to where your bodies are joined.

"Fuck, that's it, cum for me, cum on my cock and let me cover you. Please doll, please cum. I want you to cum on my cock," he begs you.

Your release is earth shattering, clenching around him like a vice. He is torn between fucking himself deeper, bathing in the pure pleasure of your body, and the need cum. Bucky starts to cum, feels his lower half begins to lock up.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

You move quickly enough for the rest of his cum to spray across your body. It lands on your stomach, your chest, your face. Gods it's a sight and Bucky feels so fucking good, right in his skins with your fluids on him and his on you. This is right.

"Cream pie dreams," you hum, a lazy grin on your lips and a glow about you. "Could feel you cumming in me, so fucking amazing, we're doing this again... Maybe after dinner."

Your fingers brush across his stomach, soothing and so sweet. The tears from early come back to his eyes. Endorphins and fucking light washes over Bucky and he thinks maybe he's having a vision. He sees you and him, together. Just the two of you growing older and growing more in love. He can't get the image out of his head as he looks at your cum covered body. It's ridiculous given the circumstances, but it makes him so happy. He reaches for you, grapples in this weird position until he's dragged your messy frame up his body.

Bucky kisses your face, licks his cum off your lips and plunges his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you together makes his blood sing. You break the kiss to take a deep breath.

"Love you, doll, can't even imagine how much."

"I love you, too."

#a sloth writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #monsterfucking #sloth monsterfucking #centaur!bucky barnes x reader #centaur!bucky barnes #centaur smut #gn!reader #bottom!reader #bucky barnes x reader

[thepsychewrites]

The Complexities of a Black Hole || Pt. 3

The Complexities of a Black Hole — Pt. Three

A Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Series

Summary: Bucky learns that you have joined him for his time in Wakanda, and he isn’t sure how to feel about it all. Steve leaves for home with a promise to return. Bucky has his first therapy session while you tour one of the labs with Shuri. Later that night, things get steamy with Bucky in his shower. 

Warnings: This series and my entire blog is 18+ ONLY. MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Frequent use of heavy and descriptive language. Slight smut: masturbation, self deprecating thoughts, allusions to depression, angst, complicated feelings?? Does that need a warning? 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: YES I UNDERSTAND I SUCK SO BAD BUT LISTEN part three is finally here and I am going to try my absolute best to not make y’all wait months for part four, yes? I love you guys and I am still really excited to write this series. I have so many ideas, and despite dealing with a lot of shit recently I really want to get back to my passion of writing. Thank you guys for the support. I love you all so much. <3

Main Masterlist    

Series Masterlist

Seven thousand miles.

You traveled nearly seven thousand miles to accompany Bucky for his stay in Wakanda.

The equatorial circumference of the Moon is barely over six thousand and seven hundred miles around. You practically took a trip around the moon… all for Bucky.

He couldn’t believe what Steve was saying. “I didn’t come alone… Y/n is here too. And she’s staying for awhile, Bucky.”

Part of him didn’t want to believe Steve. Bucky didn’t want to believe that someone would pause their own life to come to an unknown country halfway across the world, a distance equal to an entire trip around the moon, just for him. Especially when that someone was you.

Bucky’s hands were starting to grow hot and tingly, and he swore his throat was closing up.

“Where is she now?” He inquired to an apologetic-faced Steve.

Steve offered a sigh, taking a quick glance down to his watch. “They landed right after us last night, I think T’Challa said Y/n would be meeting his mother first, then get settled in a room somewhere inside the palace. She’s safe, Buck – and she’s really happy to be here for you.”

“But why? Why would she come all this way just for me?”

Steve shook his head dismissively. “I’m not the one who can answer that for you, Bucky.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what he wanted more… to break out of this room and run to you, or break out of this room and run from you. In his mind, both options seemed to end with disaster.

The morning sky outside began to darken with storm clouds, raindrops beginning to pelt his window. It was eerie how Bucky could relate so heavily with nature at times, because just as the outside world was drowned out in a deep shadow of uncertainty, so was Bucky. He sat hunched over at the edge of his bed, his head dropped with frustration. Not with you, but with himself. Bucky was frustrated that he managed to put himself in this position, and he was frustrated with how close he allowed himself to get with you. Maybe if he had been more reserved, you would not have felt the urge to tag along on this journey. Maybe you would have stayed behind, sending Bucky well wishes from seven thousand miles away instead of being just steps from him.

“Listen,” Steve's strong voice pulled Bucky from his spiraling thoughts. “In two weeks I’ll be back to make sure you’re getting settled in alright. We’ll see how things are going and… we’ll continue on from there.” Bucky barely raised a brow at his words, knowing that in just a moment Steve would leave and Bucky would be left alone in his observation room, which was growing darker and darker by the minute. Just when Bucky thought Steve was turning on his heels to hightail it out of there – a lock clicked and whirred from the door, and Steve was entering Bucky’s room.

A warm hand landed on Bucky’s back, prompting him to stand and be pulled into Steve’s awaiting embrace.

“Everything will be alright Buck, I promise.”

Steve was warm-blooded. He had to be. His chest radiated a warmth Bucky hadn’t felt in what seemed like decades. Yet, despite this welcomed warmth, a light tremble radiated from Bucky’s body. “I’m scared, Stevie. What if this doesn’t work?”

Stevie. A nickname given in their early middle school years, a nickname that held so much weight and comfort, a name that Steve knew Bucky only used on rare occasions. Bucky felt small within Steve’s grasp. He silently wished he could stay there for a while longer. Maybe Steve’s super-soldier serum granted him mind reading capabilities, because he gave Bucky his wish. With a firm squeeze across Bucky’s back, Steve allowed him to stay against his chest for another minute or so. Bucky didn’t care to count the time as it passed.

“Then we’ll figure out something that will.” Steve mumbled across the top of Bucky’s head. “But I know you like the back of my hand. You have always been a fighter, Buck. You’ve just gotta fight for a little bit longer.”

The cold creeped back in, tangling around Bucky’s skin as Steve pulled away.

“These two weeks will go by faster than you realize, and I’ll be here the second they let me come back, alright?”

Bucky nodded dismissively, and he knew his time with his best friend was over for now.

“I’ll see you soon.” Bucky offered quietly, too scared to say anything more in case his voice gave out.

Steve met Bucky’s tired eyes, the deep blue of his irises now drained to a cloudy gray, much like the sky right outside. “Bye Buck.”

And, in less than a minute, Bucky was once again all by himself, cowered in a chair placed by the desk, casting his gaze out of the window to watch the storm as it rolled into Wakanda.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The Wakandan air smelled sweet in the springtime – a mix of blooming flower petals and the mist of waterfalls that were weaved into the deep green landscape miles away. You spent a long time taking it in, each breath filling your lungs more than the last, staring out at the bustling city below the balcony attached to your room in the palace. Songbirds whistled out in the distance, their gentle melody riding with the breeze. Noticing a line of deep charcoal storm clouds rolling in from the west, you soaked in every bit of sunshine available to you before the eventual downpour began. The calm atmosphere gave you some time to reflect on the past few days, and it was hitting you hard.

Seven thousand miles.

You traveled seven thousand miles to be with Bucky on this journey of hopeful healing, and you were nothing but grateful to be here with him. You wished more than anything that you would be able to see him soon, but as T’Challa explained last night as you arrived, it might be a while before that happens.

“We want him to get settled in first, and in a couple of days we will see if he is making good enough progress to have guests.”

Sure, you were completely understanding given the circumstances, but to say you were only getting antsy was an understatement. Impatient might be the better word to explain how you felt in this moment. Spending the entirety of last night pacing this guest room only quelled your thoughts for the time being.

Does he even know I’m here?

Maybe it was for the best if Bucky didn’t know, for his observation period at least, that you had tagged along. It would only give him something else to worry about.

A sudden knock at the door pulled your thoughts away from getting too far ahead of you. Without moving to answer it, you heard a friendly voice call out.

“Oh thank goodness you’re awake, I thought you were going to be jet lagged all day long!” It was Shuri, and she was now standing in the middle of the room, her hands hanging at her sides as she looked at you expectantly. There was a pause, then, “Is that what you’re wearing?” She nearly burst out laughing as her index finger pointed at how you were dressed, still in your solar-system print pajamas you’ve had since grad school.

The two of you met last night, and it was a truly exciting introduction. Shuri was over the moon that she would have someone as educated in astronomy as yourself to help her in the labs, and she informed you that she would take you to the lab today to show you around and get you acquainted with all of the equipment. You just didn’t expect this tour to be happening now.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Shuri was behind you playfully shoving you towards the closet. “Come on now we have no time to waste, get dressed!”

Ten minutes and a fast-paced half-mile walk later, you and Shuri arrived at one of the labs in Wakanda. Towering above the both of you, you had to crane your neck all the way back to get a good look at it. The long windows that spiraled around it allowed you to peek inside, noticing a few people bustling around inside already. “It’s cool — isn’t it?” Shuri gave you a moment to take it in before a lightning strike cracked in the distance, a loud rumble of thunder following just seconds after. Her eyes grew in size, and her hand landed on your forearm, tugging gently as she led you towards the doors. “Okay enough of that – let's get inside before we are fried to a crisp.”

The two of you laughed in sync, booking it inside the entrance right as thick drops of water began pelting at the ground outside.

“Goodness – that was a close call,” exclaimed Shuri as she wiped a rogue raindrop from her temple. “Now c’mon, let me show you your new playground for the next few weeks…”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Seven thousand miles.

It’s the distance Bucky wishes he could run to get away from this cold, depressing room.

He was sitting adjacent to a soft spoken woman, Dr. Onai, one of the therapists he’d be working with during his stay. For the last hour she had been asking general intake questions, and Bucky was starting to itch with boredom. Her tone suddenly changed, and now Dr. Onai was attempting to dig a little deeper.

“So, the man that left a few hours ago, his name is Steven, right?” Dr. Onai started with.

Bucky shifted in his chair. “Just Steve, but yeah.”

“Just Steve…” She wrote some notes down in a thick, pale blue notebook that sat crooked on her lap. “And how long have you guys known each other?”

“Since we were kids. We basically grew up together.” Bucky’s palms began to grow warm and slick, and he unsubtly rubbed them against the loose sweatpants he wore.

“Do you remember what year you met? You can ballpark it if you don’t re-”

“1929,” Bucky interrupted. He could recall the day he and Steve met for the first time like it was yesterday. “I was walking my sister, Rebecca, to the corner store. She had gotten a good grade on a test at school and our mom gave her a nickel for it. We had to pass this dingy playground on the way, and that’s where I first saw Steve, getting smacked around by these assholes a year or two older, just for saving some other tiny kid from their torture.” A faint smile curled at Bucky’s lips. “I told Becca to go ahead and grab her candy, then ran over to get Steve out of that mess. It certainly wasn’t the last time I got the punk out of trouble.” He shook his head lightly, refraining from going on a tangent about how Steve practically begs for trouble to find him. “Anyway, he and I have been close ever since.”

Dr. Onai nodded, writing down as much as she could catch from Bucky’s statement. A few seconds later, she asked, “Is there anyone else besides Steve that you’re close to?”

Bucky knows he shouldn’t lie. He knows this thing only works if he tells the full and honest truth. But God – he couldn’t bring himself to say your name in the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to unscrew that can of worms that would force Dr. Onai to stay in that stupid room with him for hours and hours on end. No, for now you would be his little secret. Bucky was still at odds with his feelings about you, so you wouldn’t be mentioned – yet.

“No, just Steve really.”

Dr. Onai hummed in a confused tone, but she didn’t press any further. Instead, she simply finished her writing before gently closing her blue notebook. “Okay, Bucky, I think that’s all we’ll cover for today. For your homework, I want you to write down what you do for the rest of your day, and how you feel — mentally and physically.” She tapped at the thick hardcover of a journal sitting on Bucky’s desk. “It doesn’t have to be a long entry, but tomorrow when we have our session I just want you to show me the page so I know you wrote down something. I won’t read it in full, I just want to see you’ve taken the time to connect with yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Bucky agreed in a convincing enthusiastic tone.

He watched as Dr. Onai stood and left, the thick metal door automatically locking at her exit. For the second time today, Bucky was once again alone.

He peered down at the spacious desk beside him, his hand slowly moving toward the journal. His pointer finger slowly traced the spine, then across the edges of the cover. Tempted to open it and get this “homework” over with now, he reached for a black ink pen. But something inside of Bucky was working against him, and he set the pen down slowly, the oddly-spacious bed suddenly calling out for him.

He stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, but as the noisy storm outside lingered at his window, he knew only a few minutes had passed. A few thoughts crossed Bucky’s mind at the same time. Worries about this therapy situation. How embarrassed he was over this entire predicament. How stupid he felt. How angry he was at Hydra for creating this monster inside of him in the first place. How disappointed he was in you for coming here with him. Something inside of Bucky stirred, and he began to feel antsy. He could feel his heart rate elevating, his breaths coming faster and faster yet unable to escape because his throat was starting to tighten, restricting the airflow. His palm began to tingle, a warmth slowly rising in his chest. Great — he couldn’t even lie down without having a panic attack.

Bucky got up with haste, his eyes landing on the shower inside the en suite bathroom. Maybe this could distract him, help him think of anything other than the persisting troubles he currently faced, even if only for a few moments. Standing idly in the doorway, his hand reached over for the light switch, squinting as the dim white light filled the room. Bucky huffed, his head already beginning to hurt. Opening the glass door that separated the shower from the rest of the room, Bucky slowly twisted the handle and pointed it all the way down to the big H. As water began to trickle out of the showerhead, he moved away to discard his clothes.

His muscles were tense, tight, and sore in every place imaginable. The creases along his forehead scrunched together as he removed his shirt, something Bucky would not have noticed. As he placed his clothes in a pile on top of the sink counter, he didn’t dare take a single glance at his reflection in the mirror. There is no telling the mess he would make if he caught a glimpse, either. All of the pent up wrath sat inside of him like a hungry tiger caged at a circus show. This poor abused animal, locked and chained up, expected to put on a performance for everyone's amusement. Bucky knew how dark his thoughts would turn after making a grave mistake like that – looking at the man he hated so much.

Instead, Bucky crouched down to the lower cabinet and retrieved a light gray washcloth before moving toward the shower once again. A billow of steam rolled across his skin as he opened the glass door, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it warmed his cold limbs. A deep sigh left his mouth once the hot water soaked his hair, his back and chest growing red from the heat. It took him a while to move for the shampoo — he hated washing his hair with one hand. Not to mention the thick brown locks were getting unruly, some of them even starting to curl up at the ends from the lack of haircuts, which made it that much more difficult to wash it properly. Once he finally willed himself to, a short-lived grin appeared on his face seeing that the soap bottled mindfully included a pump.

The grin promptly disappeared once the scent of the shampoo found its way to his nose.

Coconut.

God dammit – no matter how hard Bucky tried to rid his mind of you, you somehow always found your way back.

Now plainly annoyed, Bucky washed his hair. But as the warm comforting smell of coconut lingered in the air and his eyes were squeezed shut, there was nothing to stop the infiltrating thoughts of you his mind conjured up.

Bucky couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Yeah sure, he was definitely still angry and disappointed at your decision to come here, but fuck did he miss you like crazy. Bucky missed every part about you. The sound of your voice, the sight of your smile, your dim-witted and poorly-timed jokes that would make him double over in a fit of silent teary-eyed laughter, your calming affirmation, the way you smelled, the peaceful beating of your heart. He missed it all so much.

As the thought of everything you danced through his head, he mindlessly rinsed the soapy mess from his hair and began washing his body. The boiling water was helping soothe his muscles, yet he still felt rather tense down through his torso and legs. But as Bucky guided the washcloth across his inner thigh, he suddenly stopped. His knuckles had barely grazed over his swelling tip, but the ghostly touch alone was enough to elicit an embarrassingly shaky breath out of him. Touching himself wasn’t even on his mind until he started washing his body, but now it took a place in his mind alongside you, clouding his thoughts and turning them way too inappropriate for his liking. Bucky was many awful things, but when it came to his interactions with others, he was nothing short of a gentleman.

Bucky pleaded with himself to think of something else, anything else, but his problem only grew tenfold when a blurry vision of your face came to his mind. The tips of his fingers traced a vein that traveled the length of his cock, but he forced his hand to a stop before he could go further.

A picture of your plush lips played behind his eyes, taunting him as they fashioned into a playful smirk. More than anything Bucky wished it was those sinful lips gliding along his cock, as they would surely feel heavenly compared to his calloused hand.

“Fuck-” he cursed under his breath. It was borderline mortifying how sensitive he felt at the moment. If too big of a water droplet landed in the wrong place he probably couldn’t stop the twitch his cock would give. Some temptations are too strong to deny. Bucky couldn’t seem to give less of a shit about willpower as he finally gave in and allowed his fingers to wrap around his shaft, his hand slowly moving up and down over his hardened cock. The groans left Bucky’s mouth in harmony, a whine or two finding its way out when he pulled too hard or too fast. His legs trembled, but he held them sturdy to keep upright.

Bucky couldn’t escape the thought of you. As he imagined exactly how you would take your time with him, his mouth fell open in a desperate gasp of air and his brows scrunched together ever so tightly. His thumb stroked across the whiteness leaking from his tip and he imagined what your tongue would feel like prodding at the head of his cock, swallowing down the mess he was making. How would Bucky feel seeing you on your knees like that for him? Would Bucky put his hand behind your head, slowly guiding you forward? Or would he let you take complete control, fully aware you would give him way more than he could ever ask for? Would you let him cum inside your warm little mouth?

“Fuck fuck fuck f— aahhh!” Bucky tipped his head back, panting as his orgasm hit hard. He stayed still, continuously pumping as cum slipped from the head of his cock, ropes of sticky white falling to the shower floor, small drops collecting on his fist and thigh. He didn’t move as the warmness dripped down, sending a chill through his spine.

The regret was immediate. Shame was next in line, followed by immense guilt. The guilt of picturing you like that opened a pit in Bucky’s stomach. Why couldn’t he just control himself? What would you say if you knew he did that? Would you be just as ashamed of him as he was of himself? Bucky was well aware he was stepping into unknown territory. He knew he harbored a certain feeling for you that a mere friendship could never convey, but Bucky had never felt like this towards anyone else in his life – ever. Not in his childhood, not in high school, not even in his twenties when women swooned over him left and right. The only time he could remember feeling a fraction of this way for someone was in his late teens when he and Steve messed around, but still – those feelings were complicated and rather miniscule compared to how he felt about you.

He finished his shower minutes later, finding a thick ivory towel to dry himself off. After dressing again he walked over to the desk in his room, water still dropping from the ends of his hair, sat down and opened the journal in front of him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the nearest pen and began to write. And write, and write, and write, only stopping for a few moments to scarf down his lunch when it came. Collecting his thoughts on paper was apparently exhilarating, and his chicken-scratch words covered the first sixteen pages, front and back. He didn’t finish writing until the thunderstorm was long gone and the twilight sky colored his room a navy blue, a spotlight of silver covering the floor where the moon peered in.

Later that night, Bucky realized how grueling these next two weeks would be, especially knowing you were so close by. But despite this near proximity, you still felt light years away from Bucky’s reach. These upcoming days would surely suck the life out of him – but he was desperate to get through this so he could see you again.

PART THREE PLAYLIST TBA

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #thepsychewrites #tcoabh #the complexities of a black hole #steve rogers

[davinaclaire16]

Wings of Dusk pt 8

Azriel x Reader

I just wanted to thank you guys for being so patient with me. My dad is now healthy and out of the hospital and you can expect at least one part every week. Hope you guys had an amazing holiday! 💕

Warnings: some light smut, some self deprecation, talk of past sexual abuse

You laid in bed staring at the ceiling. It had been 3 long days since you had kissed Azriel. It had been electrifying, you had never felt so alive.You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about kissing him and doing much more with him before. You’ve had many dreams about crossing that line with Azriel. He was your best friend and you could see yourself living a life with him. Or……could. Now you can’t even imagine being in the same room as him. You groaned to yourself and tried to figure out how you could of possibly gotten yourself into this situation.

“Uuuuuggggg”

Today was the day of the high lord meeting. Which wouldn’t be an issue but that would mean you will be sitting in a room with Azriel for who knows how long. Over the past 3 days you haven’t seen or heard from him. You’ve been obsessing over what happened between the two of you since. But what made it worse is you obsessed over what happened after that more. You remembered back to the “incident”

Things had gotten more heated after that kiss. More rough….needy. What had been a soft and deep kiss became rapid, hot, and demanding. Within moments he had picked you up and pressed you against a wall. Your legs wrapped around him, a hand buried in his hair while the other desperately roamed his leathers. His tongue fighting for dominance with yours. You were lost in him. Lost In the way his body pressed against yours, the way your mouths fit together like a perfect puzzle piece. The smell of his arousal was enough to send you into a frenzy. All of it was a daze until you felt something hard against you. Felt his bulge press into you. Could almost feel the strain of his leathers. You couldn’t help your next movement as you bucked your hips into him. And the groan that left his lips turned you into jelly. It Would surely haunt your thoughts and fantasies. The two of you were getting high off the taste of each other and soon his hands had found there way under your shirt.

His lips had started to travel down your neck and nipped at your throat. The gasp that escaped you had only made him more desperate and you could feel his smirk as he continued and grinded into you. You were grateful for the attention and shocked by the sudden pleasure that ran through you that your hand had looked for something to grasp and ended up digging into his wing. Which prompted him to shiver and let a deep moan escape.

Azriel needed more of you, needed to be in you and when his hand went down your body to undo your pants. He caught a glimpse of your leathers how well they formed your body and saw his hands touching you. About to give him everything he wants and he just put you down. It Took everything in him to pull away. When he saw you, your swollen lips and a mark forming on your neck that he put there. He met yours eyes and couldn’t do anything but say sorry and spit out that this was a mistake before he ran out the door and flew away.

All you knew was all of sudden the pleasure ceased. He had put you down looked at you in disgust, told you this was a mistake and left you there. Mor had come to get you hours later and since then Azriel avoided you at every turn wouldn’t so much as talk to you about what had happened. If he had listened you would of lied to him told him you regretted what happened, that you were emotional and were thankful he had stopped it from going any further. That you also thought it was a mistake. But he had quickly ran away on a job when he realized he couldn’t stay away from you without raising questions from the others.

So here you were now staring at your ceiling feeling stupid and dreading this meeting where you would sit across from Azriel and try desperately not to think about his body pressed against yours. All well trying to not to obsess over the fact that you thought you had successfully buried you feelings deep within yourself for the shadowsinger. Oh And realize that the act of being with you in any form brought out the look of disgust and regret onto Azriels handsome features.

Just get through today and then you go back to Day and never have to see him again the thought brought sadness but also relief. You were starting to get ready when there was a knock at your door. “Come in” with that your heard the door creep open and no other than your cousin Mor step in.

“Y/N you haven’t been out of this room all day what’s going on? Dreading the fact that you’ll be leaving us soon..” she poked

“No Mor I’m fine just busy getting ready for tonight.” You voice was cold and void of emotion. Hoping she’d take the hint and either leave or stop prodding for answers

“Ok I can help you pick what you’re going to wear? And maybe even you could tell me what’s actually on in your mind.”

“Nothing is on my mind Mor…. Actually. You could distract me from what’s actually wrong.”

“And how would you have me do that” she giggled

“I don’t know maybe by answering some of my long unanswered questions…… I have been gone awhile.” You knew you shouldn’t do what you were getting at. Knew it may raise questions but you couldn’t help it.

“Hmm ok like what?”

“I don’t know like how come Azriel and You haven’t figured it out yet. I thought for sure you two would have gotten together officially by now. And yet I’m back from the dead and nothing.” You tried to sound innocent like you had no reason to pry and damn you could of fooled yourself.

“Y/N Az and I are never going to work out.” Mor stated without doubt or a hint of desire.

Now that answer, that answer had surprised you they would of made a beautiful couple and complimented each other well

“What are you talking about? You two could have a lovely life with one another. Orrrr is it because your waiting for a prettier female to take interest in you? You knew of Mors sexuality. Knew she found pleasure in both it was something you had accidentally stumbled upon in the library one night at hewn city.

Mor laughed “No I am not waiting. But I wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Ok so why then?”

“Azriel didn’t want me Y/N.” You laughed like that was the most hilarious thing you’d ever heard. But when you scanned Mors face there was no hint of joking.

“You’re kidding right. I have watched that dumbass pine over you for centuries.”

“I’m not joking Y/N. I was a distraction. Something he threw himself at because I was a possibility and what he really wanted wasn’t.” Mor sighed like this was the most obvious piece of information. Like everyone knew it and you were the only one who was to dumb to see it.

“Ok now I think you’re insane he followed you around like a lovesick puppy dog Mor.”

“Look believe me or don’t believe me but I know when a male is in love and Az was certainly not in love with me. Honestly it hurt to know that even if I had taken him up on what he thought he wanted I would of just been a runner up. The second choice.”

“Morrigan-“

“But that doesn’t matter now. He’s done with his pursuit for me and set his sights somewhere else.” This peaked your interest who could he be pursuing if not Mor.

“Who is that bat pursuing now?” You laughed

“Elain.” She stated and looked at you almost like she was testing to see what your reaction would be. Something you couldn’t help but notice.

“Who?.” Was all you could muster without revealing the disappointment that washed over you when you hadn’t heard you’re own name.

“One of the Archeron sisters. The quiet one.”

“You mean the one who’s a shell? The one that looks like innocence incarnate.? I- I mean I guess that makes sense she’s beautiful and quiet. Sweet and well tempered. I just- she hates being fae. And that sister Mother.”

“Why the sudden interested?” Mor had pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh oh I don’t know. Like I said I just needed a distraction. I was just surprised by the um, I don’t know I guess she such a large difference from….you.” Mor and Elain were different but not extremely. Mor was every bit as feminine and Mor had a sweet and gentle persona. One that backed just the right amount of danger and mystery. While Elain was much more reserved but both were elegant and had a certain amount of charisma. Your point was more that Elain was nothing like you. You wouldn’t describe yourself as gentle, feminine, or patient. And Mother you wouldn’t describe yourself as charming and certainly not quiet. You were the loud and confident older sister who picked fights and made being independent apart of your identity. You were not something someone thought to protect. In fact most of the time you were the thing people needed protecting from.

“You’re sure that’s the only reason Y/N” she asked like uncertainty and knowing laced her question.

“Yes and if you don’t mind I have to get ready”

Later you were almost done getting ready for this meeting, you had bathed and done your hair with touches of some makeup that highlighted your fae feature’s beautifully. You wore a gold gown that fit snuggly and reflected Amazonian Armor. You were trying to decide what jewelry to wear when there was a knock at your door. Without taking a peak you just shouted for them to come in while you put on a set of earrings in the mirror.

“Wow….. I almost feel bad for giving you what I’m about to give you if it means you have to change out of that.” Helion breathed. You whipped your head around to the sound of your friends voice.

“Hel!” You ran and gave him a hug you had truly missed him. Not as much as you thought you would but you found yourself thinking about him more often then you’d like to admit.

“What do you mean gift?” Helion didn’t give any details or make some joke he just smiled and handed you a large box that was wrapped with golden silk. You took it and gave him a quizzical look. You set the box on the bed, opened the box and what you saw took your breath away.

“Hel….I…. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.

“I had it made for you to wear tonight you are not just apart of the day court and I wanted you to have something that represented where you’ve come from and where your going.”

“Hel this is incredibly thoughtful.. thank you.” You pulled out a beautiful nude toned gown with golden stars embroidered onto it. It encapsulated the golden rays of the sun from day and the star from your home beautifully. And for the first time in a while you didn’t feel guilty for leaving home or not coming back. Instead you felt understood and that it was ok that you loved both night and day.

“Hel you have no idea what this means to me…..I’m going to change and I’ll meet you down there ok” you quickly kissed his cheek and ran into your bathroom to change.

You stared at yourself in the mirror in disbelief. Helion had impeccable taste. Maybe taste that showed more skin than you were accustomed to but impeccable none the less. It wasn’t that you were a prude or anything your mother had just always been a modest women who raised you to be a proper lady. Something that your father also required to be perfection. You remembered the first time you and Mor went shopping for what to wear to starfall at hewn city and when you father saw what you were wearing and that it came down a bit to low for his liking……well he stormed across the entry way and dragged you back to your room by your hair.

“You’re my daughter my Princess. Not some common whore. You are gorgeous and elegant the face of perfection for my court. I will not catch you in anything that implies otherwise”

He was funny that way. Ruthless, but then he’d make you feel like you were everything and in the next second…nothing. After that happened before he left your room he almost looked sorry and spoke words to you that almost resembled a loving father.

“You are better than Every male in that ballroom tonight. One day you’ll be betrothed to someone worthy of you and you won’t be my little girl anymore. Someone with a title…a high lord who will know your every bit his equal if not better. Until then its my responsibility to make you better than any of us”

You had no idea why your father would treat you with such respect, break rules for you, and tell you that you were every bit as powerful as a male and then turn around and treat your mother and sister the way he did. Never understood why you were the exception to so many of his rules and beliefs. Why he demanded so much more from you, especially when we all knew it would be Rhys who ruled his court. Yet your father spent more time teaching you the ins and outs of ruling than he ever did your brother. No one knew why you were different to him and it would forever be a question that kept you up at night. Was it love? The fact that you were the oldest, selfishly motivated, or just dumb luck?

You never let yourself give those questions the time of day so instead you distracted yourself by the gown that Helion had hand made for you. Stunning was all that came to mind and it fit you in all the right places. You were relieved to find that the dress had a back that covered your scars. You could of glamoured your back all night, like how you’ll glamour your neck, but you try not to do that at all costs. You had To much anxiety about if you slipped up and somebody saw. You made sure that nobody had ever seen the scars and remaining stubs of your wings. One of the few parts of yourself you truly hated.

On your way down the stairs you could hear everyone below. Hear them gush over outfits and fret over the upcoming meeting. They sounded so happy and hopeful for the future yet terrified at the same time. But there was one voice that made you stop in your tracks. Made you hold your breath like if you didn’t make a sound his shadows couldn’t tell him of your arrival. Foolish thinking, but that’s what you needed to believe to get you down these steps. Step by step you got there. You didn’t pay much attention but if you had you’d notice that when you hit the last step the room went silent. All eyes were on you but there were two pairs that were at a loss for words. Two pairs of eyes that’s were full of shock, desire, and a tad bit of sadness. Those eyes belonged to no other than your High Lord Helion and a certain shadowsinger. However it was Helion who broke the silence and took you by the arm and joked.

“With you looking so beautiful I must ask Are you sure I have to go to this meeting with you as your high lord and not your lover”. He quipped with a smile that made you remember just how fitting the lord of day title was. His smile could light up the darkest of rooms.

“Hmm ya know if you had asked me 5 minutes ago I might of said no” you teased, however this time you saw something wash over Helions features that you had never seen before. Peculiar but you were more focused on not making eye contact with Azriel who still had not peeled his eyes from you. You could feel him burning holes into your back from his stare.

“Helion is right you look gorgeous” Feyre stated

“Thank you. But I could say the same to you.” You liked your brothers mate. She was good for him and he deserved someone like her. Brave and strong. You were happy for him….and he made her High Lady. The first one you ever knew of. His equal in every way. You’d be lying if hearing that he created the title for her didn’t sting at first. I mean It was something you’d dreamed of being since you were small. A dream over 500 years old. A dream that kept you going when you wanted nothing more than to fade away out of existence. High Lady of the Night Court.

And she was brilliant, she wore the title well. Managed to get your mothers ring from the weaver. You remembered when your mother had the insane idea. Made jokes about the kind of women who would be capable off retrieving it. She had Broken Amaranthas Curse, and wore the dresses your mother had made perfectly. Wore those family jewels and crown like it was her birthright. Rhysand had grown up to be a fine High lord and an even better Male. He was everything you had ever wanted him to be. You were just sorry that your relationship with him wasn’t like it used to be. Had never been right after your mother and sister. Often you felt like Rhysand would of traded your life for theirs in heartbeat. It was almost as if he looked at you with hatred and regret that you were the sister that survived.

Helion and I arrived at the dawn court after the others and entered the meeting room. It was almost serene with chairs laid out around the circular reflection pool. Helion gracefully strolled into the meeting with you on his arm and a crown of golden spikes upon his head. Helion had always been handsome to you but tonight there was something about the way he was the sun personified that made butterflies form in your stomach.

“Y/N…..oh it’s good to see you alive! Now how were you dumb enough to end up on Helions arm and not mine.” Tarquin smiled and rushed over you to. You had always been fond of Tarquin. Summer was One of the places you would escape to when your father didn’t have you on a tight leash. Where you and Tarquin created a friendship built on equality and honesty. Things no one had ever given you freely until Tarquin. He was kind hearted and spoke his mind. He wasn’t beat into tradition and court scheming like every other high lord which always made him a breath of fresh air.

Before you knew it you were if entrapped in his arms and off the ground.

“Tarquin it is good to see you too.” You laughed

You had some type of relationship with almost all of the high lords so seeing them all was something. Thesan had always took a special liking to you. Guiding you and even teaching you a few ways to control your powers. While your father had also made it a priority for you to learn about the dawn court and understand there customs and rules. He Had sent you to the dawn court a couple times to learn or become a lady. You had always assumed he was prepping you to marry the high lord but when you asked about it you’re father only laughed and evaded your question. Beron was a “gentleman” to you when your father was alive in hopes you’d marry his son. After that he treated you like he treated every other woman. An object to be gawked at…..

Kallias was someone you respected, he truly cared about his people and you came to hold that respect for one another when you saved his now wife from being caught by Amarantha. And Tamlin well you hated his guts had vowed to kill him and watch the breath leave his lungs with nothing but pleasure after your mother and sister. You almost did, you had him within your grasp that day your father died but your dear brother begged you not to.

“Please Y/N don’t do this. Don’t let his life be on your conscience he not worth it. If you kill him your no better than him and his father…or ours” the words had stung but you knew in that moment that Rhys was a far better fae than you. That you in fact were no better than your father. That you would of set the world on fire and watched it burned to avenge someone you loved.

So there you were gathered around with some of the most powerful individuals in all of pyrinthian. And what were you doing? Watching men cry like baby’s that there’s such thing as a high lady now. But when tamlin strolled in it was like to whole room stiffened and you would only watch as Tamlin came in. You would not give him the satisfaction of know that you even noticed his presence. It was a challenge with the constant waves of anger hitting you like a ton of bricks but you would not waver. Wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. In you attempt to look bored and anywhere but Tamlin you caught a glimpse of Azriel studying you. You would of even guessed he been studying you since the second Tamlin walked in.

Once Tamlin arrived It didn’t take long for everyone to start throwing questions and insults around. You tried not to pay much attention to them but one did catch your attention

“No your just in the business of fucking them” Tamlin said with ease. The mother was truly going to test you tonight. Everything in you was fuming with rage. If you could rip out Tamlins vocal chords without consequence you’d do it this second.

“When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes” …..breath you told yourself to breath… You may not have known her long but she was now your family. Your sister and how dare that arrogant self-righteous pri-

“Be careful how you speak about my High Lady” your head snapped to Azriel. His voice only dared Tamlin to keep going. It would be foolish for anyone to test your friend after the tone that came from him. The tone was even enough to send a shiver down your spine. Everyone knew what he was capable of and would push farther so the meeting progressed and proved to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. More and more people brought Rhysands honor into question. And the older sister in you wanted to make them regret the words they spoke. They Talked of those poor children from winter. Your brother would never. Breath…..you told yourself to breath.Had to tell yourself to Ignore the itch under you skin to release that power and shove all of their fowl words back down their very throats.

“Don’t let them see you falter. If they think for one second that you aren’t the image and definition of collected you’ve already lost.”

“Where did she confine you” Viviane asked Rhysand

“Her bedroom” it was not just you and your family that recoiled at the answer. But you knew better than any of them what it was like to be kept in anothers bedroom and you wanted to go back and do everything you could to protect your brother. You’d do anything for him even if he thought you were nothing more than a spoiled brat who didn’t deserve the air she breathed. You were still his older sister even if he didn’t want to admit that.

“Stories and words” Tamlin said lounging in his chair. “Is there any proof”

Proof?!? You were livid to hell with collected. However when you went to stand to fight back a warm hand was placed on yours. A reminder to who you were supposed to be tonight. Not Rhysands sister. Not apart of the night court but Helions second in my command. You looked at Helions hand who gave you a slight squeeze of comfort and slightly nodded your head in thanks.

Everything else that had happened was a blur Helion had spoke up and tried to put an end to the nonsense that took place in front of us now. You did give it to your brother for keeping his cool as long as he did. You could of cheered when Rhysand shut Tamlin up. Didn’t even try to hide the smile that appeared on your face. You sat quietly when Azriel had lunged at Eris. You couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it but you knew for sure that Azriel had to love Mor. One fowl word pointed her direction and there he was threatening everything they’ve been working for to protect her. You had no idea what she was talking about earlier.

Eventually you all started talking about actual important information. Like a cure to faebane. And yet that didn’t last long until once again more childish behavior started being thrown around again.

“Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha's bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain? Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment? Why should we trust him or anyone from the night court for the matter. Might I remind everyone that being a whore must run in the family? Because both of the Nightcourt royalties were whoring it out under that mountain.” Beron gestured to me.

“Enough Beron”. Helion stated like a challenge or a threat you didn’t know. Clearly Beron didn’t take the hint because he continued

“However I must say Y/N while we were stuck under that mountain I would of loved to see that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around my cock. Tell me could I still purchase your services…..and now Rhysand wants to play hero, Amaranthas whore becomes Hyberns destroyer. But if it goes badly….. will he get on his knees for Hybern or will Y/N just spread her legs.”

You went cold and empty Helion had let go of your hand and chaos had ensued. Feyre had released an impressing amount of power and all the High Lords have now understood what she took-what they gave to her. Helion had practically thrown Beron across the room. And no matter who pleaded with Feyre she didn’t let down. She had every right to be upset Berons words were disgusting but Feyre was making things much harder than they had to be. High Lords were screaming about there power. Rhysand pleaded with his mate, Azriel kept Eris within arms reach. It was a circus and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Enough!” You were loud and confident as your power seeped from you one flick of your wrist and that shimmering liquid went shooting toward the water that now held beron and the flames that had singed Eris. The second your power came in contact with Feyres the water seemed to be consumed by the starlight that was your power. The same was done to the remaining flames. All eyes were on you and you watched as everyone of them remembered. Remember that you weren’t just a pretty face, or slut, or another meak and powerless female they’d been so accustomed to. They remembered that your power was different from theirs in one very distinct way. That yours was the only one that could dissipate theirs on a whim. Could engulf and suffocate an entire room. That one touch could drain life. You didn’t know why you had the power you did. Many had whispered that you were your fathers secret weapon, the lady of death herself. Your powers were nothing known to be from the night court. Like a gift from the mother herself…..or a curse.

“I have had enough of all of your bickering. The matter at hand is that war is upon us AGAIN. Most of us fought in the last and still remember those that were lost. Must we go through it again because you fools can’t put away your insufferable arguments.” You were angry. No not angry, angry didn’t give this kind of calm tame rage justice.

“Y/N is right we are the difference between winning and losing this war and we are acting like children.” Tarquin came to your aid.

“This is outrageous last I checked I don’t take orders from whores who think theyre anything more than a pretty face” Beron spit.

His words were vile and you could see something ripple through Helion. You Had almost felt the moment the words hit Helions ears because in an instant it was warm. The closer you got to Helion the warmer it got. It wasn’t the kind of heat that someone basks in but it was the heat you shield from. The kind of heat that’s comes from the sun and burns and set things ablaze. You saw through Helion for maybe the first time. It wasn’t friendship or appreciation that burned in his eyes. It was something else. Perhaps something else burned in them a feeling you weren’t aware you could give anybody.

You tried to brush of what you saw play out in front of you because you had to be wrong. It wasn’t possible and you certainly weren’t worth a disagreement with another High Lord. So you did the only thing you knew you could do, you would do what he had done for you. So you reached out and grabbed his hand. And let a single star swirl around him. And like a whisper, a message had been sent

After the meeting Beron had decided he didn’t know who he was siding with but everyone else seemed promising we were headed in the right direction. Now everyone was staying was staying at Thesans palace and you were out on the balcony alone trying to have some peace. The peace didn’t last long as you felt Thesan approach behind you.

“You know your court has always been one of my favorites. Something about dawn has always drawled me in.” You told thessan the truth you had, had enough of lies and games tonight.

“I know when you were just a child you always seemed to have an understanding of the rising and setting of the sun. I’m glad your alive. If your father had been alive and heard of your death I think he would of marched and killed Amarantha himself.” You could of sworn Tarquin was messing with you but his face showed no sign of deception.

“Hmm sure” was all you could say

“Look I’ve known you since you were young so I know you aren’t happy. There’s something going on. What’s wrong, because for someone who’s always so filled with life and hope you are well….rather bland.”

“I don’t know. Do you ever just wish you’d made different choices in life…..because my life has just been wrong choice after wrong choice it feels like.” Honesty was all you knew tonight and sometimes you thought about what your life would be like if you just didn’t push as a girl to be more. Would you be dead like your sister or like Berons wife married off and silenced? If you had flown away when you planned to as a teen would you have found your own peace? Would you have found the place you felt you belonged. If you had come home would Azriel and you ever happened? Because now you looked into Thesans palace and you saw your family. Saw them laugh and fit. Saw them finding peace in the chaos. Saw Cassain flirt with nesta. Rhys and Feyre in love. Mor and Helion contemplate sneaking of…and Azriel brooding over it but still be present enough to insult Cassain. For some reason all of it had never been enough for you. Like there was something key missing-

“Thesan would you give us a second”

“Of course I’ll see you sometime soon Y/N” with that Thesan left you with the one and only shadowsinger.

“So you’re not avoiding me anymore huh” you tried to play confident but if someone had looked closely at your eyes they told a story of hurt.

“Yeah look Sunshine I, we should talk about the other day.” At least he used your nickname you thought. That had to mean we weren’t as bad as you thought.

“You think?.”

“Yes look I apologize you were in a vulnerable position and I took advantage so for that I am sorry.” He would barely look you in eyes, like if he did he would run away and never talk to you again.

“Azriel you did not take advantage I am an adult. I may of been a little emotional but not to the point that I didn’t know what I was doing.” You hesitated but what if this was one of those what if moments. What if to change everything you just had to speak. So you continued nervously and unsure but you continued. “Azriel that wasn’t just something I did without thought. I wanted to…..I have wanted to. I mean maybe I want-“

“This is not something I want.” Azriel cut you off quickly and was so void of emotion like he didn’t care at all how they hit you. “It’s just you’re…..”

“Im what Azriel?”

“It’s nothing it’s just….”

“What!?” Maybe you shouldn’t of pushed but, what was it about you that had turned him off so immediately. You needed to know….right?

“You know what Y/N don’t even act like what happened was because you wanted it to happen. I’m sure you were just using me as a stand in for Helion.”

…….Now that, that was something unexpected. He was upset you could tell. His shadows swirled around without control. Almost like they were trying to grab you, take you away somewhere were you couldn’t disturb him anymore. Whispering to him your every move.

“What are you talking about?!?” You were confused and angry why does he even give a shit about Helion especially if he didn’t want you. It didn’t matter.

“Oh please like I couldn’t tell that the two of you were practically begging each other for more. Theres so much sexual tension between the two of I’m surprised he didn’t take you right in the foyer!” He was fuming and if you didn’t know any better you’d even say, jealous. His eyes were lit with fury. Rage pulsed through his veins and you watched as the collected shadow singer unfurled. Watched his jaw clench and the rise and fall of his chest.

He made you so angry sometimes it was like he was the only person in all of Pyrithian that could make you act like a crazy fool. You felt like rage itself flowed through you like lava.

“Bullshit Helion is a friend! Maybe your just projecting? Like I haven’t been watching you pine over Mor for Centuries!.” His eyes widened like you’d actually slipped him up but for some reason all you could focus on was how close he was to you. Noticed just how close the two of you had gotten in your argument. Your faces mere Centimeters away from each other other. Practically breathing one another’s air. And then you felt it. Felt his shadows wrapped securely around you waist. Your breath hitched and you didn’t dare take your eyes away from his. But his eyes dipped down and snapped back up almost immediately like he realized his mistake. He was bringing his lips down and You closed your eyes already giving yourself to what was about to happen. And then nothing. You slowly opened your eyes in shock. You weren’t sure why…….he had told you that this is not something he wanted but His shadows had held you so close and now they were gone and he was halfway across the balcony

“Look you were telling me about what had happened to you and I felt bad for you that’s all that happened.”

“You felt bad for me?” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You were sure your voice was shaky sure you shook with anger and hurt. “Tell me that’s not true. I know that can’t be true…..tell me that my best friend for over 5 centuries now hasn’t been to hell and back with me because he pitied me.” You didn’t know why you just stared at him, didnt know why you needed him to tell you he didn’t mean it and take the words back.

“Certainly sounds like pity. Pity is given to the weak, which is the last thing I’ll allow you to be. Before anyone ever see’s a weakness in you, make sure you’re dead.”

Your father words were the only thing that rang in your ears until they weren’t and you didn’t know which was worse.

“You can never be what I want.” He was like a wall a true master of the shadows who wouldn’t let a single emotion slip past him.

You had no words didn’t know what to do just stood there staring at him and trying not to make more of fool out of yourself then you already had.

“You’re exactly what your father raised you to be. It’s Mor…it has always been Mor.”

“And here I thought I was nothing like him. I guess that was just something a friend told me once.” You were numb Az had never spoken to you this way before. Never even began to be irritated with you outside of silly arguments.

“Well they were wrong.” All he did was stare at you. He didn’t offer and single emotion beside annoyance. Beside the fact that this was something he’d known forever.

“Fuck you Azriel.” You didn’t wait to see a reaction or stop for a response. You were already off the balcony and running to your room. You didn’t care that your family watched you with confusion. Wondering what the hell could of happened that had tears rolling down your cheeks. You needed to be away.

“Y/N! Hey what’s happened.” You didn’t stop as you heard Helion running after you.

@mis-lil-red @bankerfrog @paasrin @judig92 @boys-no-books-better @powerfulpantera @randomfortheday @answer-the-sirens

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