@defectiveprts sent : 001 , a convenience store past midnight. / ♡
treats are pulled into her basket at random as she brushes by the shelves , far too busy studying the feed on her phone to care about what specifically she's buying. turning a corner , she zooms into a photo inez added of them --- ensuring that the lighting looks just right --- when she feels herself colliding with someone else. " oh , fuck ! " she exclaims , smile soon dropping to a scowl. " will you watch --- oh ... " finally taking in the stranger in front on her , she forces out a laugh , flicking her hair over her shoulder as she straightens herself back up. " god , i am so clumsy ! are you okay ? i didn't knock anything , did i ... ? " eyes widening , an innocent pout offered as she tentatively steps closer in her heels. " i really should've been paying better attention ! "
@defectiveprts asked: 19) sender places their coat around receiver after realizing they’re cold.
❛⠀⠀⠀don’t you —⠀ ❜⠀⠀ ⠀ whatever else she meant to say, whatever protest rested on the tip of her tongue, it’s quickly swallowed down when his coat wraps around her shoulders, the warm wool — and geez, buck, aren't you a furnace? — is exactly what her shivering body needed, and she can’t bring herself to risk him taking it away.
instead, after slipping her arms through the sleeves, too eager to even bother to roll up the excess fabric hanging down her trembling hands, christine wraps both arms around his, trying to give back some of the warmth.
it's only fair, isn't it?
❛⠀⠀⠀i thought it wasn't supposed to get cold in los angeles.⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ three years living here, and she still grumbles each year, the cold january breezy always an unwelcome surprise.⠀ ⠀ ❛⠀⠀⠀and thank you,⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ she adds, resting her head against his shoulder, burrowing deeper into the coat.⠀
pressing a pair of fingers to her lips, clara remains quiet at her corner of the couch, trying very hard not to laugh, or mock buck. she invited him over for a relaxing night. a nice quiet-in after two shifts from hell — something about the new guy saying things were quiet, or another superstition which the teacher understood all too well. words have power. doesn’t matter if there is a kid there to hear her; if she says they’re behaving super-well today, some kid, somewhere in the school, is going to start a food fight.
but it's hard. it's so hard not to mock him, when he is clutching her throw-pillow so tightly she is afraid the feathers are going to burst right out, his arms bulging each time someone screams on the screen.
❛⠀⠀so, when you said you like horror movies... were you lying, or just trying to play tough?⠀ ❜⠀
IIIIIIIVVVVVVYYYYYYYY !!! everything you do, everything you write, is done with such grace that there is no way for me not to adore it ( even as we’re torturing buck ). You let me write sick & twisted josh just to torture buck and ourselves and I still can’t fathom that thing that almost happened within like a day of captivity lmao that is just a testament to how much I’m in love with the way you write—seriously um 911 do you need a writer bc I nominate ivy! I love getting to read your livestream of Lo.nestar and hear about all the books you read ( so excited to read that scary one you recommended ! ) it really feels as if I know you outside of the internet and I stg one day you, zara, and I will meet in Chic.ago and I will treat you both to some genuine “american food” lmao seriously tho, I’m so happy to have you in my life and I know I probably don’t say that enough, but just know, I’m thinking it constantly !
✖ @defectiveprts inquired: ' no, don't leave me... ' xxx ( have buck say ' i'm sorry ' or something to really add to the vibe here )
meme | accepting
bonus: gotta have a sad song to play in the episode duh
Cigarettes and oxygen tanks didn't go well together. There was a reason for the 'no smoking' signs, they weren't simply for color. Mr. Morris, however, disregarded that as he lit what would be his final. Stressed and needing to find some way to relax before he went back to see his ailing wife, he didn't notice what the cigarette between his fingers touched to as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Oxygen tanks. Before he could know what was happening, the hospital was shaking. Alarm bells were ringing and he would not be making it back to his wife.
Fox had made sure to get every patient out that she could and those that she couldn't were moved to other floors, far from where the smoke was billowing out of their lower-level supply closet. By the time she was on her second, a host of firefighters, the 118 included, were entering the building. She looked for Buck among them and when their eyes met, she wished she could kiss him for good luck, but they both had jobs to do. Now, standing outside the emergency room doors, stuck behind a police barrier, she waited for him to come back out.
It was taking too long. The fire must have accelerated, though it was hard to hear anything from the walkies on the officer's vests around her with the blaring of the alarms still ringing. She was chewing her lip, straining to listen, but what she heard did not require straining at all.
B O O M.
A second explosion blew dust and debris out the broken emergency doors. Fox was running before it even stopped ringing in her ears. Ripping herself out of the hands that tried to stop her as she re-entered the building, heart pounding. She knew something was wrong, that something had gone wrong. All that mattered was finding Buck. She needed to see him, to know that he was alive in very much the same way they used to. Clinging to one another as if the other would slip away forever.
Coughing on smoke, her arm raised to cover her mouth, Fox kept going. She could not stop, could not think, not until she found him and find him, she did. His hands were shaking from where they hung above his abdomen, stained with blood and ash. Beneath them was a mess of torn fabric and blood, his injury so gruesome that when she knelt beside him, she could not tell where the fabric of his jacket ended and where he began. "Buck," she breathed, knowing no amount of pressure upon the wound was going to stop what it was doing to his body.
"Firefighter down, firefighter down! North eastern hallway, hurry, please, hurry!" His walkie was left discarded to the side after she used it, it didn't matter what they answered with. All that mattered was him and these last moments she had with him.
"I'm sorry," he struggled, lips stained red with blood. His ocean eyes were filled with fear and it broke her heart into even more pieces. Pulling him closer, resting his head in her lap on the floor, Fox leaned close to him. Cradling his face, running her fingers through his hair, trying not to cry. She had to be strong for him, like he had always been strong for her.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Buck, nothing at all." She had said that to him once as they held hands across his hospital bed. As much as she had then, she still meant it. "I love you so much, I'm with you, alright? It's going to be okay." Her training told her it wouldn't be, but she hoped beyond hope that he could be spared one more small miracle. Her accident prone firefighter.
"Do you remember when we first met?" It was a trick they did with patients who weren't going to make it, when the options just weren't working. They spoke to them about something else, something happy, so that when they died, it was with that thought and not the ones that were surely running through their minds before.
"The very first time?" She brushed back a few of his stray curls, looking down at him with only love in her eyes. Love. And tears. "It was the night shift and you had come in for a follow-up. I wasn't even supposed to be on that floor, but I was covering for a friend." The words were shaking, laden with the sobs she was holding in. "Evan was crossed out and someone had written 'Firefighter' instead. I figured it was some kind of hazing, so that's what I called you. Firefighter Buckley." There was a husk of a laugh in her throat at the memory, especially for how often she had addressed him as such since. "I didn't even look up when entered the room, didn't check to see if you were the only one there, I said your name and then I--" A sob escaped. Fox pressed her lips together tightly, forcing them into a smile as she brushed away the tears streaming from his eyes.
"I looked up then and you were standing there, all tired and happy. The moment I saw you, Buck, it was like I knew you, like we had met before--but I wouldn't have forgotten you. Not you." She sniffled, the smile on her lips shaking as she struggled to keep it there. "Looking at you, Buck, it was like coming home. It's always been you, Buck. It's always been you." Leaning closer, she placed a kiss gently against his mouth, trembling as she felt the weakness in the little movement of his own.
"I wanted so badly to be brave, to say something to you, but I didn't. I led you to the room and I left as soon as I could. I wish I could go back there. I wish I could go back and tell you that I loved you the moment I saw you, that I knew it before I knew anything else. You are my home, Buck. You are my everything. I love you so much." He was so pale, so cold beneath her hands. It was time.
"You can sleep now, my love. I'll be there when you wake, I promise." Fox closed his eyes after he died. Unable to hold the floodgates back any further, she held him close to her and sobbed. It wasn't beautiful the way grief was in the movies, it was hideous. Like a wounded animal, choking for air, drowning in their own tears. Grasping at his hand, wishing beyond all hope that it would close around hers one last time.
✖ @defectiveprts inquired: ' no, don't leave me... ' + reverse ( make me cry i dare you )
meme | accepting
bonus: gotta have a sad song to play in the episode duh or two options
Ahead, the light turned red. Fox took the opportunity to dial her top contact; the phone rang and rang and went to voicemail. It was not unexpected, he was on shift after all. "Hey, its me. I'm headed into work, lets hope I get there before it starts pouring." She laughed lightly to herself. "I get a break at ten if you aren't too tired for dinner, but don't worry about it, I'd rather you rest." Pausing again, Fox took a moment to listen to what she could hear past her windshield wipers. Sirens. Smiling, she continued. "I think you're about to pass me, lucky me, huh? Anyway, I hope you have a good rest of your shift and I'll see you later." She almost hung up, but something stopped her. A strange urge that needed to be satisfied before it bothered her the rest of the evening. "Buck? I love you." There was no other goodbye, only the click of the call ending. Ahead, the light turned green.
As the sirens blared closer, no one moved into the intersection, save for a few people turning right. Fox leaned forward, trying to see if the rig was indeed one that belonged to the 118. A smile lit up her face when she saw it was, one that turned into a grin as it entered the intersection. If she hadn't been watching it, thinking of the man she loved aboard, she might've seen the truck in her rear view mirror barrelling toward the car waiting right behind hers. Having seen it or not, the outcome would have been very much the same.
In a matter of seconds, Fox's SUV, the car behind hers, and the truck were crashing into the intersection. To those watching from the outside, they saw the first vehicle roll, clipping the firetruck as it passed, sending it fishtailing slightly as behind it, the ambulance veered into the side of the second car, unable to stop in time. The truck flipped, part of its twisted frame landing by the first car before bursting into flame. Sirens were blaring, 911 was being dialed, and above, the rain began to pour.
When she came to moments later, Fox had trouble understanding what she was seeing. Red, green, and gold lights were washing the pavement in color above her aching head. Crash. There had been a crash. The firetruck. She remembered seeing it, first up then down then up again until impact. Buck.
Broken glass littered the roof of her car and she slid onto them as she unbuckled her seat belt, falling from her seat. Not registering the blood that was already splattered around it. Her chest hurt. Her wrists hurt. But it didn't matter. Buck was out there.
Groaning, she tried to pull herself out the crushed windshield, only to be met with the heat of flames. Yet another reason to get out of her car as fast as possible. People were already running to the other cars, she saw their shoes as they passed her. A pair of boots. Another. Getting down on her elbows, she tried for her drivers side window, or what remained of it. A small space that she was sure she could fit through if she squeezed. It was excruciating, but she was out. Crawling forward on the flooding street as it was pelted with rain. She didn't make it far, collapsing a few feet away. With what little energy she had left, she rolled herself over, looking up at the darkening sky and the glittering drops of rain that fell from it. The colors of the lights blurred, becoming a kaleidoscope above her head. "Buck," she tried to call out, though her voice was hardly more than a whisper. In a moment she would continue, she just needed a moment to rest. To collect herself. Her eyes slid closed.
"Fox!" Her name from his lips had her focusing on his face, unsure if she had reopened her eyes or if she had never closed them in the first place. He was holding her, pulling her up from the ground, pushing her wet hair from her face. There was so much rain on his face, no, not rain, tears.
"Hey Firefighter Buckley," she tried to smile, but she couldn't feel if she did. Ignoring his pleas not to speak, to stay with him, to his promises that it was going to be okay, she stared up at him. Memorizing again the face she knew so well. His blonde curls dark, plastered to his forehead, his ocean eyes, pulling her into their depths even now. "I--I lied to you, Buck. On your birthday." She could taste the blood in her mouth, knew it wasn't a good sign. "I was proud of you, I am p-proud of you," speaking was exhausting, but she needed to. She was scared and rambling, trying to get out as much as she could before...Before the end. "But I--I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you--" Vaguely she felt his hand around her own and tried to squeeze it. "That I love you." The tears flowing from her eyes were cold against her skin. Outside, the once balmy day had chilled considerably too.
"It's okay, Evan, it's going to be okay." Fox reached for his face with her hand, trying to touch his cheek, to wipe away the tears flowing down it, but she couldn't quite reach. She couldn't lift her arm above her chest, she could do little more than stretch her fingers. "I c-can't feel it anymore, it doesn't hurt here." Her body might not have felt the pain, but her heart did. It did not want to leave him alone. "I love you, Buck, don't-don't f-forget that. I'll--I'll--I'll stay with you." Bloody fingerprints were left streaking down his chest, as close to his heart as she could reach. "I'll stay--"
Her eyes were open as she passed, open and looking up into the blue-eyed gaze she was seldom able to look away from.
✖ @defectiveprts inquired: 🚑 (but it's buck hiding it. I'll let you decide the context as I mean.... there's So Much to choose from....)
meme | accepting.
"He'll be okay," Fox reassured him, chart in hand. Watching as Eddie was rolled down the corridor. It didn't make his injury any less scary, but thankfully, the piece of scrap metal hadn't nicked any arteries or organs. "He'll be sore for a while, but you guys know all about that." She gave him a smile, but he wasn't looking at her. Not that she was surprised, she knew he loved Eddie. Knew he cared about him like family. Like an extension of himself. Gently, she gave his forearm as squeeze. Noticing how he swayed slightly under her touch. Strange.
"I'll...keep you updated," she added after a moment, looking upon his face. Paler than it normally was. He hadn't said a word. "Firefighter Buckley?" Immediately she was assessing him again. He was limping when he came in, helping to push Eddie into the hospital, but she wrote it off initially as his old injury acting up. He had said he was fine. Had said there was nothing wrong with him. Pale, he looked so pale. Something was wrong.
"Buck? Buck, can you hear me?" The chart in her hands was forgotten, clattering onto the floor as she made a quick circle around him, looking for any signs of blood. Of course, it could be internal. Fox didn't want to think about that. She didn't have time to think about that. Instead, she kept an arm around him as she moved, afraid at any moment he may pass out. "Where is it, where is it," she muttered frantically to herself until she found it. There. A wet spot on his pant leg. Immediately she was cutting it off with a pair of scissors from her pocket, careful not to touch his skin. But his leg, once exposed, wasn't bleeding. Confused, she touched his boot. The blood overflowed, coating her hands, splashing on the ground. Just under the lip of it was another piece of scrap metal, likely the twin to Eddie's. Whether he was hiding it because he hadn't realized it was there or because he thought it was his old injury acting up and didn't want to 'bother them', it didn't matter.
"I need a gurney over here!" Fox called out, trying to stop the bleeding with her hand without pressing on the metal. Her other arm was outstretched, grasping tightly to his jacket front. She would not let him fall, not when it had taken him so long to stand again. "Lean on me, Buck," she instructed. "It's going to be okay, everything is going to be okay, I have you. I'm here--I need that gurney!"
