here’s my sasori x oc fic from yesterday! under the cut 🧡 btw some of Akira’s dialogue is inspired by things I’ve read on Tumblr posts abt mushrooms lmaooo… also shoutout to @ratkingpierrot for letting their OC Yurei be besties w my OC 😘
Extant Life 🍄
“What exactly is so amusing about a decomposing animal?” The question comes dripping with poison, typical for Sasori. His gaze downcast, observing the rotting carcass along with the woman so intrigued by it. She’s so absorbed with the remains, hunching over bones and fur, that she doesn’t hear him; Sasori grumbles in his throat. The sound catches Akira’s attention, evident by her slowly rising to her feet and meeting the red-haired man’s gaze.
“Hmm.. It’s not exactly amusing, but…” Akira’s loose fist is in front of her mouth with knuckles resting against her lips; a simple gesture Sasori has noticed her do countless times. It’s not one done out of anxiety, but out of deep pondering. Her eyes flit upwards and Sasori lazily lifts his head to the sky. A kettle of vultures (as Yurei had informed the two that’s what a circling group were called) fly high above them, no doubt smelling the rot. Akira stares up at them, head tilting to the side in interest and amazement; the buzzards swoop and caw aloud, their enthusiasm for the dead creature apparent.
Sasori can tell the animal was small with a bushy tail, possibly a squirrel of some sort or maybe even a fox kit. He can see all the individual pieces that made it up: bone, muscle, sinew, organs, flesh, and fur. There’s a bloodstain underneath it all, a black mark soaked into the earth. It’s familiar to him, albeit dissimilar from the human bodies he’s performed vivisection on. He turns his attention to Akira again and posits, “If it isn’t amusing then why are you wasting time staring at it?” Akira’s head doesn’t turn, but her eyes shift over to meet his scrutinizing look. With the patience of a saint, she kneels back down to the small body and begins to speak; “Vultures and fungi both love in the same way: with heads bowed, praising the rot itself. Even if this animal’s time has ended, it will live countless lives through the mycelium; an immortality found in what grows after you are gone…” As she speaks, Sasori’s eyes are a glare; there is no ploy at hiding his contempt for her drivel. Akira either takes no heed or pays no mind to him as she carefully begins sprinkling spores beside the desecrated mammal, not unlike salt being sprinkled into a dish. He’s fully aware that her intention isn’t to eat the remains, but the comparison stands. A small fruiting body emerges next to the decomposing animal, almost reaching for not only the scraps, but Akira as well.
“How absurd.” His own voice and the scoff accompanying it almost takes Sasori by surprise, but not enough to rattle him. Akira is peeking up at him through choppy bangs, a soft smile on her lips. Her prattling continues, “Your version of love isn’t much different, Sasori-sama. The careful art of keeping alive something long dead…. Living on forever in your puppets and craftsmanship… It’s not absurd, it’s true eternity. Decay has never been the end of all things: decay is an extant form of life.” With no response to this, a slight pause hangs between the two until Sasori breaks the silence. “…We need to regroup with Yurei and Deidara. Enough of this.” He turns from the woman and decomposing remnants, but hears her stand to follow as he begins to trudge away.
Later on, in the dead of night as he works at remodeling Hiruko, Akira’s words ring in Sasori’s mind. …Decay is an extant form of life… The careful art of keeping alive something long dead… Living on forever in your craftsmanship… Visions of his deceased parents, the first puppets he ever made with his own hands… Sasori finds himself staring into Hiruko’s eyes for a long while before moving onto the Third Kazekage. The next morning as the group of four pass near where the carcass laid, Sasori notes that it’s been picked apart not only by the encircling avians, but the small mushroom Akira grew there. Sasori is so deep in thought that he almost doesn’t hear Deidara’s loud attempt at picking a fight with him over art as usual.
For some reason, today he doesn’t feel like having this discussion.
He only ever thought about it late at night, with his arms curled in a self-hug while his fingers brushed the black ink as he thought about his soulmate out there somewhere in the world. He wondered if she, too, had settled down with someone else. If she also felt the same sense of wrongness when she climbed into bed with her spouse at night that he did. Most days he felt more guilty about that than running off to war when things got too hard.
or, soulmate AU set when Eddie joined the 118.
AKA Lain writes a fanfiction for their final paper for a master’s course (see AO3 for accompanying critical essay)
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Eddie generally didn’t give his soulmate Mark a second thought. He had been fascinated by the streak of black across the side of his arm when he was young, poking at the tattooed skin and watching as the inky blackness stretched before popping back into place. When he was eight, his sister told him what it was. She told him that some people have a Mark on them that means they have a soulmate - a special person that is perfect for them in every possible way. The spot on his arm is where his soulmate will touch him for the very first time, and when that happens, he will feel his heart fill with love and it will feel like everything makes sense. Even cooler, the Mark will burst into bright colors. This enamored Eddie even more, and he couldn’t wait to tell his friends about his Mark. But it was just a few days later when he asked his dad about his own soulmate Mark that the illusion shattered.
“Marks are for women and faggots, Edmundo,” Ramon had spat at him, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never tell anyone that you have one.”
He heard his parents arguing later that night, his mom admonishing his dad for what he’d said. She didn’t want Eddie feeling badly about himself. But despite her sticking up for him, even she agreed with his dad when he’d expressed his concern about how people would view him for having a Mark.
“I’d rather he take it seriously than let him go on thinking it’s okay.”
He never truly believed that Marks were some sort of symbol of weakness, as his dad had implied, but he couldn’t help the way that messaging burrowed its way into his mind and took root. When he had met and fallen for Shannon, he hadn’t even told her he had a Mark. She found out the first time they slept together at 16, and he vividly remembers the way her face fell when she saw it after pulling his shirt over his head. Where she had been grinning, all coy and sweet, her smile then dropped and tears almost immediately filled her eyes after they landed on the stretch of black across his bicep.
She didn’t have one, and while it wasn’t unheard of, it wasn’t exactly common for only one person in a soulmate pair to have a Mark. When she had cautiously, slowly, reached shaking fingers to his arm, she felt nothing when they brushed against the warm skin there. No rush of emotion, no flash of understanding, nothing. She didn’t have to look at Eddie to know he didn’t feel anything either.
No one knows why humans have these Marks. There are ancient cave drawings of lone Neanderthals with streaks of black on their bodies, while drawings of pairs had colorful splashes that aligned with where they were touching. It’s a trait that, as far as anyone knows, humans have always had and no one quite understands. Some people get them, some people don’t, and there doesn’t seem to be any reason as to who inherits them. They run in families, and women are only slightly more likely to have them despite the pervasive discrimination some people face in certain parts of the world that equate the Marks to femininity and therefore weakness.
Eddie has heard the stories in school about entire nations that vilify people with Marks, and about the places that venerate them. He used to dream of moving to a city that was more accepting than El Paso, as he learned fairly young that having a Mark wasn’t cool from more people than his dad. He was in middle school when he took his shirt off in the locker room and a popular kid saw the Mark on his arm and laughed at him.
“Hey, Eddie has a Mark, I bet he likes dick!” He’d snorted, slapping his friend’s arm and pointing over at Eddie, who had quickly slipped his t-shirt back on, shame twisting in his gut. Eddie doesn’t even remember his name now, but he remembers hearing a few years later that his dad was arrested for abusing him because he had a Mark, too.
By the time he graduated, found out Shannon was pregnant, and enlisted in the army, his Mark was barely a passing thought. He only ever thought about it late at night, with his arms curled in a self-hug while his fingers brushed the black ink as he thought about his soulmate out there somewhere in the world. He wondered if she, too, had settled down with someone else. If she also felt the same sense of wrongness when she climbed into bed with her spouse at night that he did. Most days he felt more guilty about that than running off to war when things got too hard.
A few bullet holes and a medical discharge later, and suddenly he’s home again and he had to learn how to be a husband and a father after barely being present for the first four years of his son’s life. He never thought he’d end up getting a crash course after Shannon left them just a couple weeks later.
So no, his Mark was never really at the top of his mind.
But after he worked some odd jobs and decided to join the fire academy, he began to think about himself a little more than he used to. The first choice he ever made for himself was to move to Los Angeles to join a firehouse there. He packed Christopher, a few boxes, and some suitcases into his old truck and made the 12-hour drive to L.A and the little bungalow he’d rented sight-unseen.
Now, with his twisted past behind him, he steps into station 118, meets his coworkers for the first time, and feels a sense of hope. That is, until he meets Buck.
His captain, Bobby Nash, is great, he knew that from the interview. Paramedics Hen and Chimney seem wonderful, very friendly and welcoming, albeit with very odd names. But Buck approaches him like he immediately hates his guts and frankly Eddie is a little offended.
“Don’t worry about him,” Chimney tells him after a couple of tense calls, “he just got dumped and he’s not taking it well.”
“Oh, was it a soulmate?”
Sometimes soulmate pairs don’t work out, despite the literal universe aligning for them. Sometimes people are too broken or too jaded and no matter how hard they try the relationships still fail.
“No, no, I think he wishes she was,” Chimney leans against the railing of the loft, looking down at Buck in the app bay. He’s cleaning the truck after the last call, his brow furrowed and gaze hard as he wipes at the same spot for far longer than necessary. “She was some great love apparently, but she just left him, went off to another country.”
“Wow, that sucks,” Eddie muses, his heart softening a little bit toward the man, “I uh, definitely feel for him.”
Before Chimney can respond, the bell sounds overhead, signaling another emergency needing their assistance. Eddie races down the stairs, and as he goes to climb into the engine, Buck steps in front of him and steps up inside. Eddie pauses for just a moment before getting in, shooting a glare Buck’s way.
This is going to be interesting.
From the moment he learned about soulmate Marks from his sister, Maddie, Buck was hooked. The thought that somewhere out there was someone who was universe-approved, made just for him, fills him with a sense of hope and purpose that he’d never felt anywhere else.
He’d spent his entire life scrabbling for love, getting scraps from his mom and dad. Maddie was his person, the only one who truly loved him, but he was only 13 when Doug got his claws in her. Before long, she barely visited, and more than once Buck thought for sure he’d seen a bruise peeking out from her sleeve. She always denied it, of course.
So, while Maddie’s leaving pained him more than anything, he could never blame her. After she left, it was like he became a ghost in his own home. His parents never noticed him, and if he’s honest, they barely noticed each other. Neither of them had soulmate Marks, but both Buck and Maddie did (he definitely noticed that his sister’s Mark that covered the inside of her right hand remained an inky black after she introduced Doug).
He wondered sometimes if his parents were too hardened, too bitter, to deserve Marks. They didn’t seem to care about Buck and Maddie having them. They were more interested in Maddie’s before she revealed she and Doug weren’t soulmates, sometimes discussing the money they were saving for her “soulmate wedding”. Buck may as well not have had one at all. Honestly, Buck may as we have not been there at all.
By the time he got out of Hershey, where he’d spent his whole ghostly life, the only thing on his mind was his Mark. He positively yearned to love and be loved in the way he’d grown up learning about, and he bounced around the country for a few years in search of it. From Wyoming to Ohio to Georgia to Peru, he worked his way through different odd jobs before finding himself settling down in Los Angeles working with the LAFD. Being a firefighter gave him a purpose more so than even his Mark had.
It took him a while to find his footing. Bobby was an enigma that he couldn’t figure out for a while, only learning he’s one of the rare people that have two Marks months after meeting. Buck had never even heard of it until Bobby told him about it. For a very small number of people, if your soulmate dies, a new Mark can develop later in life. Bobby had been angry about his new Mark for a long time. That is, until he met Athena, and she brought a peace to him he hadn’t felt since his first wife died. Buck was inspired by them, as well as Hen. She and her wife were set up on a blind date by Chimney and realized they were soulmates the moment they met when Karen touched Hen’s arm as they greeted each other across the table. Chimney also had a Mark, but he had not yet met his soulmate, the black marks streaking down the fingers of his right hand a common Mark for people to have. From handshakes to soft touches like Karen and Hen, Marks on your fingers are not rare.
Buck himself is a little different. It’s not necessarily abnormal, but it’s not as common to have Marks in less conspicuous places like the torso, shoulders, or hips. Buck’s is a single swatch of black at the hinge of his left shoulder, and he had grown up imagining many different scenarios that could explain its placement. He spent a lot of his childhood in his imagination, honestly. It was the only place that no one else could touch. The disinterest from his parents, the annoyance from teachers, the absence from Maddie, none of it matter when he escaped into his head to live out the fantasy of what could be. He did settle down a little, eventually. After working at the 118 for a while he became more confident, more sure that he didn’t necessarily have to rely on fantasy. The love he was wanting was out there somewhere.
That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t struggle with his self-esteem sometimes, or his raging jealousy that he usually refuses to investigate further. So when Eddie Diaz shows up at his firehouse, all competent and attractive and confident, he suddenly feels 16-years-old again. It doesn’t help that he’s still clinging to the hope that Abby will come back. He knew she wasn’t his soulmate, she didn’t have a Mark, but he’d spent their entire relationship trying to convince himself that it’s okay, that they didn’t have to be soulmates to make it work. Maybe that’s true for other people, but it’s been a few months since she left, and weeks since he’d last heard from her, so he’s beginning to believe it less and less.
Eddie just made him so frustrated. Who did he think he was, acting so familiar so quickly? Just because he’d served in the military it doesn’t mean he’s better than the rest of them. Besides, he was a medic, he’s basically just doing the same job. He was just being shot at before, as he had flippantly reminded Buck of earlier.
Despite this, Buck can admit (to himself, no one else) that he’s a little impressed by him. His quick thinking had come in handy on more than one call today, and he’s very, very thankful for his knowledge right now as they are staring down a live grenade from a grenade launcher. Really, how did Buck get himself in these messes? Charlie was a collector, he’d said. War memorabilia, artifacts, and dummy rounds of ammo and grenades. He’d sworn this one was a practice round, but Eddie caught sight of the gold cap and all hell broke loose. No, actually, this was a live round embedded in Charlie’s leg after he set off the gunpowder component that sent it launching through his thigh. According to Eddie, the second component included a proximity fuse and explosives. The grenade hadn’t traveled far enough to trigger the explosive, and their job was to remove it from Charlie’s leg without rotating it. Easy enough, right?
Of course Eddie is stupidly good at this, too.
All Buck can do is sit in silent support holding the explosive containment box as Eddie slowly but surely places the grenade inside. He’s not sure if it’s the hype from the ordeal or what, but Buck finds himself enamored by the end of it. After they’ve exited the ambulance they’d performed the dramatic save in and they’re standing in the empty parking lot, Eddie looks at him for a beat, a small grin on his face.
“You’re a badass under pressure, brother.” He reaches a hand out, which Buck shakes readily. The moment their hands meet through their gloves, Buck feels tingling move from his palm up through his fingers. He chalks it up to the fading adrenaline and instead looks at Eddie’s slowly growing smile. He can’t help himself from smiling back, his cheeks flushed as he breathes out, “uh, me?”
“Hell yeah,” Eddie nods, withdrawing his hand. Buck immediately feels the loss. “You can have my back any day.”
“Or you know, you, uh,” Buck stumbles over his words, looking down at his feet for a moment before looking back up, “you can have mine.”
Eddie just laughs, and Buck thinks for a brief moment that he’d be okay if he never stopped, and-
Oh.
Okay, things make sense all of a sudden.
Because see, when he was 13-years-old, this new kid, Henry, transferred from a middle school one district over and everyone liked him. He was so popular, he played football, the girls fawned over him and the guys wanted to be him. Buck hadn’t really been popular, he’d been a pretty chubby preteen and look, middle school is a rough time to be anything other than thin. But he’d been generally well-liked, and seeing even his own friends fall over themselves for this guy had made him so angry. After a few weeks, Buck realized that what actually was happening was he had a crush on Henry and thought he was cute. The only problem, though, is that… Well, Buck had a Mark. He was supposed to grow up and get married to a woman with a complimentary swatch of color on her skin. He couldn’t have a crush on some boy.
His parents hadn’t ever been homophobic, that he can remember. He remembers hearing about a cousin of his mother’s who was gay, and she’d gone to his wedding with no issue. They never made off-hand comments about the very few noticeably LGBTQ+ people they’d occasionally see around town like some of his friends’ parents did. But even though they hadn’t been homophobic, they never were exactly open to other possibilities. It was just expected that Maddie would grow up and marry a man and Buck would grow up and marry a woman. On the rare occasions they mentioned anything about his Mark, they always said “woman” when discussing his potential future partner. After realizing he had a crush on Henry, and considering those implications, he had patched up that part of his brain behind a solid brick wall and told himself that it’s okay if other people are gay or bisexual or whatever, just not him.
Once he packed away those feelings, he never felt them again. He never let himself. Until now, as he watches Eddie easily meander through the small crowd of other firefighters and the bomb squad that had assembled for the incident and make his way to the engine. He can’t have some crush, he can’t. He’s got to find his soulmate, he knows she’s out there somewhere. He knows, down to his bones, that she’s waiting for him to find her. He knows it as surely as he knows his heart is going to beat and the sun is going to come up every morning.
He hears Eddie laugh at something Bobby has said, and his heart quickens in his chest, and he realizes that yeah, he’s pretty much fucked.
Eddie is still jittery from the rush of that call as they pull into the app bay back at the station. The sweat that had gathered on his hairline and down his neck is cooling against his skin, leaving him sticky and gross, but he doesn’t really care. He hasn’t felt this amped up since Kandahar, and while he’s thankful he never has to go there again, he can’t help but miss the surge of adrenaline he’d feel from a successful mission. He also finds that he can’t stop thinking about Buck, and the way his cheeks had flushed when Eddie complimented him. He’s not totally sure why that reaction is replaying itself in his head, but he kept sneaking glances of the other man on the ride back and more often than not would find him already watching.
He realizes he’s been staring into space, unmoving, when Hen swats at his knee with the back of her hand and motions to the open door.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he tells her, offering a smile in an attempt to assure her, “adrenaline crash I think.”
She nods in understanding, allowing him to jump out first before she climbs out behind him. She announces that she’s heading for the kitchen to get a snack and suddenly, he finds himself alone. The others had already dispersed, either getting food or hitting the showers, probably, and he should do that too, but instead he wanders into the locker room and plops down on the bench. He inhales deeply before letting the breath out in a long sigh, his shoulders sagging as the air leaves his lungs. It’s like he can feel the last of the nerves leaving his body, his hands tingling as he shakes them out in front of him and stretches his neck out in circles.
It’s been a good day. Not exactly what he thought his first day would be like, though he supposes he wasn’t really sure what it was going to be like anyway. Out of everything, Buck had certainly been a surprise. He doesn’t understand how he’d gone from hating him, to blushing at a single compliment. Even more, he doesn’t understand how he’d done the same; going from being a little perturbed at Buck’s contempt, to wanting to make his face flush again in whatever way he could.
Is this a gay crisis? Is that what this is?
Before he can question himself further, the man of his thoughts knocks lightly against the glass at the entrance.
“Hey, I didn’t wanna scare you,” he smiles, stepping lightly into the room and toward one of the lockers. “Our shifts over in five, I figured I’d go ahead and change.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
Buck just hums, pulling what looks like joggers and a tee from the locker before sitting on the bench beside Eddie, who watches as he begins to untie his boots and shimmy them off his feet. He watches as he toes them off and kicks them toward the lockers, one of them making contact with the metal with a dull thud. He watches as Buck goes to unbutton his shirt, and-
He whips his head forward, probably too hard and very noticeably, judging by the huff of a breath that Buck lets out beside him. Eddie can feel his cheeks burn, fingers fiddling with the hem of his own button-down uniform shirt. He should be changing out of his own clothes, but suddenly he finds he can’t will himself to move. He’s frozen in place, heart beating a rhythm against his sternum as he barely catches a flash of skin beside him as Buck finally unfastens the last of the buttons and pulls the shirt off his frame.
“You gonna change, Eddie?” He asks casually, his tone light and teasing. Eddie rolls his eyes, despite his sudden, what can only be described as gay, panic, and begins to unbutton his own shirt. He makes quick work of it and the fabric, wet with sweat, peels away from his shoulders.
Neither of the men look at each other as they remove their respective undershirts, both now completely bare from the waist up. The airy, flirty vibe Buck had been giving off just a moment ago has been replaced by a tension that Eddie can’t quite name. It’s right there, just out of his grasp, and he feels like if the thinks too hard on it he’ll just work himself into a real panic. Instead, he goes to stand, still keeping his eyes forward and reaching out to his locker in front of him to pull out his own street clothes. Just as he goes to sit back down, Buck moves to stand up and they brush against each other. The hinge of Buck’s shoulder swipes across the side of Eddie’s arm, and the world bursts into brightness in front of them. In an instant, Eddie feels a rush of emotions: love, contentment, adoration, peace. It throws him off balance and instead of landing on the bench he hits the floor, a loud oof pushing its way past his lips. He looks in wonder up at Buck, who had frozen in place the moment their skin touched. His eyes flit from his face, where his beautiful, wide blue eyes are turned on him, down to the ink on his shoulder. Deep blues and reds flood through the Mark, diffusing through the black like milk in coffee. Eddie snaps his head down to his own arm and just barely catches the last of the dark ink being overtaken by the same blues and reds.
Eddie’s not sure how long they stay like this, completely shocked and unmoving in the small glass-walled locker room, but eventually Buck lets himself fall back on to the bench, his eyes still fixed on Eddie and his Mark. It’s him who finally breaks the silence.
“Well damn.”
Eddie can’t help it, he laughs. It starts as a small giggle and works its way into full, bellowing laughter. After a moment, Buck joins in, sliding from the seat and joining Eddie on the floor. Their legs tangle together in a heap, and he finds himself reaching for Buck’s hand. Their fingers meet and twine together like they’re meant to, though, Eddie supposes they are. If it weren’t for the inundation of love pulsing through his soulmate bond, he would probably be freaking out right now. In fact, he’s certain he would be, and maybe he will later when the intense feelings ebb a little and let him have a feeling other than complete contentment again.
For now, he’ll let himself have this.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Eddie breathes out on a soft giggle.
“My real name is Evan,” Buck says at the same time, sending Eddie into another fit. “I figured you should probably know.”
Eddie pulls Buck’s hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the knuckles, and ah, there’s that blush again, a soft pink spreading across Buck’s cheeks and down his neck.
“I wasn’t expecting you either, for the record,” he tells Eddie after a moment, squeezing his hand, “I never… I always just assumed it would be a woman.”
“Me too.” Eddie nods. “My parents made me think having a Mark was for f-”
He swallows hard and cuts himself off, unable to bring himself to say the word. Buck swipes a thumb across the back of his hand and hums.
“I can feel your shame, Eddie,” he whispers, scootching even closer to him. “That’s not yours to carry. Not anymore.”
Eddie sighs, letting the negativity roll off of him and settling back into the love pulling him toward Buck, marveling at the way he suddenly has all these feelings for someone he barely knows. Though, he does know him, doesn’t he? That’s what the Marks do; they allow you to feel the other person, like really feel them. One of his science teachers in high school once described it like potential energy. How, just like in physics, you have stored up energy, or love, and when the Marks finally meet, that’s the push the love needs to become kinetic energy. It’s love in motion. Love in action. The universe’s perfectly made match.
He opens his eyes, unsure of when he even closed them, and finds Buck watching him. He doesn’t look worried, because he can probably feel the peace that had washed over Eddie when he let go of that shame, that self-hatred. He’s just… Watching him. Eyes soft, thumb still rubbing gently across the back of his hand, and Eddie smiles. He looks down at the splash of color across his arm, no longer inky black, but navy and maroon, and he brings his opposite hand up to poke at the skin. He watches as it stretches before popping back into place, and then gently places his palm directly over the Mark.
“Well,” he begins, “I guess my dad was right.”
Buck is confused for a moment before he bursts out laughing again.
It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.
Buck is absolutely doing Fine. He’s Great. Helping Eddie get everything planned and shipped and ready to finally get moved to El Paso and he is doing FINE, okay, just drop it.
And he drives Eddie to the airport and he walks him to the door and we get a shot like this
Except
Except this time before the door shuts all the way, Buck surges forward and runs after Eddie.
“Eddie, wait!”
Eddie turns around, confused, watching Buck run up to him.
“You were right, I’m not okay,” Buck says, body shaking with nervous energy, “I’m not, I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do without you here.”
Eddie softens, a small, sad smile gracing his face.
“I know, I don’t know what I’m going to do either,” Eddie tells him, “but I have to go, and I know you know that.”
“Of course I do.” Buck goes to reach toward him, but aborts the motion. Eddie hesitates only a moment before reaching out to take his hand. Buck huffs outs a breath before continuing, “but Eddie, you gotta promise me you’re coming back.”
“Buck.”
“No, I know, I know that’s your plan,” Buck grips Eddie’s hand tightly, “but you never know what’ll happen right? So I just, I really need you to promise me.”
Eddie drops the duffel bag he’s and takes Buck’s other hand as well, stepping closer to him. They’re standing just inches apart now, basically sharing breath. Eddie has to just barely tilt his head to look in Buck’s eyes.
“I promise I’m coming back.” The words are soft, almost a whisper. “There’s this guy I was planning on asking on a date.”
Buck can only smile and surge forward and press his face into Eddie’s neck as he hugs him tightly. Eddie turns his head and plants a kiss into Buck’s curls and allows them to settle in the embrace for a few moments before pulling back.
“You keep my seat in the engine warm, yeah?”
Buck nods, cheeks red and eyes shiny.
“You hurry up and get back here so I can kiss you,” he tells him, “I’ll save it, so you have more incentive to come back.”
“All the incentive I need is you.”
“Sap.”
Eddie chuckles, putting one hand on Buck’s cheek and leaning forward to press a kiss into the other.
“I’ll see you soon, Buck.”
“Yeah.”
So Buck watches as Eddie finally has to turn and walk away again, this time on the other side of the glass doors.
2,527 words // t // love confessions // gift for @walkedthroughfires for @911fanworksfestival
Eddie doesn’t want to die, but if he has to, at least the last thing he’ll hear is the love of his life’s happy, beautiful voice lulling him off to sleep.
Eddie thinks he’s going to die. He doesn’t, but if he pulls a stunt like that again Buck may just finish the job.
If Eddie had to guess how he was going to die, he would have thought it would be in a blazing fire or a rope rescue or maybe drowning during a big save, if not from old age. He would have thought he had more time, if he’s being totally honest. More time to spend with Christopher, with his family, with his friends, with Buck.
God, and that’s a whole other thing, isn’t it? The Buck of it all. He and Tommy had broken up a couple of months ago, and since then he’d been spending more and more time with Chris and Eddie. It’s been wonderful, of course, Eddie would never complain about seeing Buck more often. He just thought he’d have more time, is all. More time to tell him what he finally figured out in therapy a few weeks ago. To tell him that he loves him.
In any case, he never would have thought he would die at 31-years-old in the cab of his truck with a shard of glass in his abdomen during a rare Los Angeles thunderstorm.
It happens like this.
He’s driving home from dropping Christopher off at Griffith Observatory for a lock-in when the sprinkling of rain turns into an all-out downpour. He never saw much rain in El Paso, but it did snow sometimes, and he often drove with his Abuelo to Dallas for work where it rained a lot, so he’s much better off than a lot of other people on the road. Still, what should have been a thirty minute drive home is promising to take at least an hour or more in the stop-and-go traffic on the 5. While he’s probably a little more versed than others at driving in this weather, he still isn’t exactly completely over all of his water-related trauma. He never will be, he reminds himself often; trauma doesn’t just go away. You just get better and better at handling it when it comes up. So as he rides his brake for a solid ten minutes, he contemplates just pulling over and popping in some headphones to wait out the storm.
Unfortunately, before he can make up his mind, the car in front of him suddenly stops, forcing him to slam on his own brakes. His heart hammers in his chest and he holds his breath as he braces for potential impact behind him. When nothing comes, he closes his eyes and lets out a measured sigh before looking up and seeing an exit for Stadium Way directly to his right, and he makes up his mind.
That’s what he’ll do. Get off the highway, take Stadium all the way to Sunset and head to Buck’s instead of his own house. The traffic will still be bad but at least it won’t be stop-and-go at freeway speeds. So he pulls the wheel to the right and presses the gas, slipping out from behind the little Honda he almost totaled and coasting down the offramp toward the intersection at the other end. There’s almost no one down here, the only vehicle being a semi-truck who apparently had the same idea as Eddie did to pull over and wait out the rain, only this person followed through with it. The hazards flash in the dim light of the late evening sky, casting a red glow across Eddie’s face as he turns and passes it and heads toward a wide right curve. The rain pounds against his windshield and he flicks the wipers on to the strongest setting, the blades wicking the water off as fast as they can but still not fast enough. Visibility is near zero, and just as he’s about to give in and pull over, a mini van whips around the corner much too quickly with no headlights on. It rounds the curve, swerving into Eddie’s lane more and more until they’re directly in front of him.
He doesn’t think, merely reacts, throwing the wheel to the left and jerking into the on-coming lane. He knows, right away, that he’s turned too far to correct on these wet roads. If he tries to turn back to his lane now, he’ll probably start flipping, and if he tries to brake, he’ll start hydroplaning. All he can do is watch as the edge of the road comes up to meet him and then for a split second, there’s nothing. No road, no ground, nothing under his tires as he free-falls the few seconds down the hill and directly into a cluster of shrubs and trees. Then it’s an explosion of glass and screeching metal and a bang of the airbags as they deploy around him. He feels his seatbelt pull taut against his chest and when he gasps he feels the powder from the airbags invade his throat, but the rest comes in pieces.
The sight of the windshield, shattered with only a few stray pieces clinging to the frame, the deluge of rain hitting the roof, the splatters of blood on the console in front of him. Everything is hazy and out of focus and it takes him a long moment of simply staring at a single drop of blood on the now-deflated airbag and willing himself to come back to his body for him to actually realize what’s happened. He’s just crashed off the side of an empty road, at night, during the rain, and down an embankment into a shroud of foliage.
Not ideal.
Thankfully, his phone had been in the front pocket of his jacket and hadn’t been dislodged in the collision, so he’s able to reach a shaking hand to retrieve it, using voice commands instead of attempting to navigate the screen.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
The voice isn’t familiar, and Eddie isn’t sure if he’s thankful or disappointed.
“This is off-duty firefighter Eddie Diaz, I’ve been in a car accident off of North Stadium Way.” The words force their way past his lips and he can’t help but notice the way they shake. “About a quarter mile off the 5 exit. I’ve gone off the side of the road into an embankment of trees.”
“Okay, Eddie, I’m Sam, what kind of car are you in?” Sam asks him, and Eddie can just barely hear the typing as they work.
“Black GMC Sierra.”
“Alright, good,” tap, tap, tap, “are you injured?”
“N-No, I…” Eddie trails off, only just now becoming aware of his body and the aches and pains that ripple through him. His head hurts but it doesn’t feel like it’s anything major, probably just a bump. He tries to wiggle his toes and finds they all seem to move just fine. He allows his awareness to move down his body and he gasps when he notices a sharp pain at his abdomen. He looks down for the first time, and past the blood and glass covering his arms he sees a large portion of the windshield embedded in his stomach.
That’s not ideal.
“Uh, yeah I have a shard of glass in my abdomen,” he stammers, “a-approximately eight by three inches is visible, I’m not sure how deep it is.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to not remove the glass,” Sam states, and Eddie huffs a dry laugh.
“No, it’s definitely staying where it is.”
Now that he’s aware of the injury, the pain comes to him in waves. He watches the jagged edge of the glass rise and fall with his labored breathing and for the first time in a while he wonders if this is the end. He can tell he’s losing blood quickly by the way his vision begins to blur and his head feels heavy. He’s not sure how much longer he has before he won’t be able to recoup the lost blood volume.
“How long until the bus gets here?” He already sounds weaker to his own ears. “I-I’m not sure how long I’ve got, I’m losing a lot of blood.”
“The storm has flooded the road just north of you,” Sam informs him, his tone still professional and even, “and there’s a wreck on the 5 backing up traffic behind you. I’m trying to figure something out, hang tight.”
“Not going anywhere,” he mumbles, resting his head against the seat with a measured breath. He listens for a few moments to the background noise of Sam working, noting the few times they click off to another line before coming back.
The rain is making its way into the car through the windowless truck, and the half-crumpled roof provides no real protection. This paired with the quickly-worsening blood loss has him shivering violently, his right arm shaking where he has the phone held close to his ear. He’s about to ask Sam for an update when he hears a beep over the line. He turns his head, vision hazy as he looks at the screen that’s marred with blood, and sees Buck’s smiling face looking back at him. Despite the cold, a warmth blooms in his chest. This is, of course, quickly followed by a pang of grief that he has to press through to end the call with 9-1-1 and answer Buck.
“Hello?” He thinks he sounds normal. He hopes he does.
“Eddie!” Buck’s bright voice is an immediate balm and he closes his eyes in the first semblance of comfort he’s felt since the first raindrops hit his windshield earlier that evening. “You busy?”
“Nope.”
“I have some chores to do, figured I’d call and tell you about this documentary I just watched.” Eddie can hear him walking about, the odd clink of a dish here or there punctuating his movements. “Y’know, that whole body doubling thing I told you about?”
“Mmhm,” Eddie hums, relaxing even further, “I remember.”
The phone comes to a rest on his chest, his arm stiff against his body. He listens to Buck, not quite hearing every word but the familiar timber and lilt of his voice is enough to capture his full attention. He’s saying something about the ‘deep dark history’ of medical research and autopsies, talks about grave robberies and racism in the medical community; Eddie hums when his half-conscious brain tells him he should and smiles as Buck gets more and more excited the longer he talks.
Eddie doesn’t want to die, but if he has to, at least the last thing he’ll hear is the love of his life’s happy, beautiful voice lulling him off to sleep.
-
“You motherfucker.”
Eddie groans, attempting to open his eyes against the way-too-bright light. He hears a sigh followed by a few soft footsteps and then he can see the lights dim behind his eyelids. He tries again and this time he’s able to make out a figure standing over him. He’s not totally sure what’s going on, all he can really process is a dull ache throughout his whole body. The last thing he remembers is dropping Christopher off for his lock-in and then hopping on the highway just as the rain started getting heavy.
Then he remembers.
The van in his lane, the crunch of his truck as he crashed into the embankment, the shattered glass raining over him, the pain. Buck’s voice.
“Buck.” He finally focuses on the person at his bedside and finds his perturbed best friend with crossed arms and a furrowed brow. Even in his dazed state, though, Eddie can see the worry underneath the frustration in the way his lips make a straight line and he’s taking deep, measured breaths.
“I call you,” Buck says softly, fingers on his left hand gripping his right arm as he speaks, “and talk to you about a-a Hulu documentary, and you don’t tell me you’re actively bleeding out?”
“I’m sorry,” Eddie rasps as he shifts in the bed. The slight movement sends a sharp, shooting pang through his abdomen and he freezes as he gasps in pain. Buck’s frustration immediately falls from his face and his hands cradle Eddie’s frame as he helps him to lay back gently against the pillows, a quiet hushing slipping past his lips as he does.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again once he’s settled, “I didn’t think I was going to make it, and I-”
He cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He could be honest, and probably reveal too much, or he could hedge his words a bit and play things off.
But he almost died. Again. And he’s so tired of not being honest.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Buck sighs, a watery smile on his face as if he knew what Eddie was going to say. Hell, he probably did. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand in his own, drawing it up and placing a kiss to his fingers.
“You do anything like that again,” he tries to sound demanding but he just sounds fond, “I’ll kill you.”
“Got it.” Eddie smiles back, rubbing his thumb across Buck’s fingers, which is just about the only movement that doesn’t hurt him in some way, while Buck settles into the seat beside the bed.
Eddie knows he should probably ask some more questions - like what day is it, did he have surgery, where’s Chris? - but he figures if there’s anything he needs to know he can find out later. Right now he’s content to bask in Buck’s presence and his morphine drip that he hopes is wide open. After a few minutes, he lets his head loll sideways to face Buck and finds him watching him.
Maybe it’s the morphine, or maybe he’s still feeling honest, but as he looks into Buck’s beautiful face he finds himself saying the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.
“You know I’m in love with you, right?”
Buck’s smile somehow gets softer, and a blush works its way up his cheeks that Eddie frankly just wants to kiss.
“Yeah,” Buck’s voice cracks as he speaks, “yeah I had my suspicions.”
He stands up from the chair and leans over the bed, his face impossibly close to Eddie’s and hand cradling his cheek.
“You know I’m in love with you, too, right?”
Eddie smiles, turning his face into Buck’s palm.
“Yeah.” His heart swells in his chest and he wouldn’t be surprised if it shows on the monitor. “I think I did know.”
Buck’s probably not very comfortable with how he has to hold himself up from putting any pressure on Eddie’s injuries, but he pauses and just looks at him. His beautiful, beautiful eyes roam over his face and Eddie finds himself mesmerized by his quiet concentration.
“The last time I was this close to you, you were dying in the back of a truck.”
He wasn’t sure what Buck was going to say, but that wouldn’t have been a guess. But it fits, somehow. On a street in Los Angeles, half a decade ago, he almost died in front of his best friend. Now, he gets to live beside the man he loves for the rest of his life. What else can he say but,
Post-jeddie hate sex buddie smut with jealous!buck:
“Can I?”
Eddie can’t even respond verbally at this point, instead nodding his head jerkily at Buck and pushing at the waistband himself to try and get it off faster.
“Eager,” Buck teases, and Eddie’s too far gone to fire anything back. That, and he’s very right - he’s so eager and his dick is weeping where Buck has exposed it to the open air and he wants Buck’s mouth-
“Shit.” Eddie ruts up involuntarily as Buck closes his lips around the head of his cock, tongue darting out to swipe into the slit and collect the precome there. It makes him shiver, toes curling into the mattress as Buck swallows him down his throat in one go.
“Jesus fucking Christ Buck,” Eddie’s voice quivers, shaky fingers tangling in the dark blond curls below him. “Fuck!”
It seems Buck’s time with Tommy served him well, because the way he’s sucking Eddie’s soul out through his dick is definitely practiced. Far too quickly, Eddie can feel the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm; his abs tighten, his breath leaves his lungs, his spine tingles. He tries to pull Buck off, tries to warn him, but he just mumbles around his cock and accepts the hot liquid that spurts into his throat as Eddie comes.
I’ve seen like six people on my dash do this but I never saw an original post about it so: send me a ship and a prompt and I’ll write a ficlet pls!
Tommy/buck
Accidentally falling asleep
Here’s 1k words of fluffy softness from Tommy’s pov (this why Buck’s called ‘Evan’ throughout). Enjoy!
After three dates, Evan and Tommy start spending more time together than just a few hours here and there at dinner or out hiking or something. Now that they’re past the initial awkwardness and urge to impress to make sure the other really likes them, they end up spending their entire days together when they happen to have days off at the same time.
Today, Tommy shows up at Evan’s loft at 10AM with coffee and breakfast from a little cafe near his apartment that Evan loves but doesn’t go to very often. They have vegan breakfast sandwiches that are absolutely to die for, apparently, so Tommy got two because Evan can be particularly ravenous in the mornings. He knocks on the door and it only takes a moment for his boyfriend (boyfriend) to appear in front of him, hair wild and curly, totally free of product He’s wearing grey sweatpants (fucking hell) and a dark blue hoodie that Tommy is pretty sure went missing from his own apartment a few days ago. He has pillow marks lining his face and his eyes are only half-open as he smiles lazily at him.
Tommy’s heart swoops in his chest and he can’t help the burst of butterflies in his stomach at the sight; he’s had a good number of relationships, but few have left him feeling this giddy or light. The mere sight of Evan’s bright, toothy smile is enough to make his pulse quicken and stutter in his veins.
“Hey, baby,” Evan leans in for a kiss before he even lets him in the door. Tommy indulges him, leaning across the threshold to press his lips to his in a chaste kiss that feels altogether familiar and brand new.
“I got us breakfast,” he holds up the bags in his hand as he enters the apartment, placing the items down when he reaches the table. He turns to face Evan and sees him still smiling dopily at him, one hand still holding the door and the other jammed in his hoodie pocket.
“You’re so fucking cute,” he mumbles, stepping to him and easily closing the distance in two strides before pulling him into a deeper kiss. His hands end up wound around the back of his neck, and Tommy hums as he plays with the short hairs there. They stand there like that for a while, kissing with a gentle hunger that sends waves of contentment through him. It doesn’t feel like there’s any expectation for more, no quickening pace or fiery passion to the wet glide of lips, just a longing for the other man in every single tilt of their heads or brush of their noses. He could live in this moment, this feeling, for the rest of his life.
“So anyway,” Evan pulls away abruptly when his stomach audibly grumbles, “you said something about food?”
Tommy laughs and goes about plating their sandwiches and accompanying salads, all while Evan sits at the table and watches him with his head resting lazily in his hand. Tommy just lets him, relishing in the feeling of being wanted, of being desired.
They eat fairly quickly, their legs tangled together under the table while their fingers danced together on top of it, and Tommy’s pretty sure a permanent blush has made its way to his cheeks. He knows he plays cool and suave really well, but having someone like Evan Buckley all soft and giggly over him is enough to crumble those walls right down.
After they’re done with the food and Tommy bullies Evan into letting him wash the few dishes they’d dirtied, they make their way to the couch and settle in with the next episode of the show they’ve been watching.
“I went on a Wikipedia binge last night because of this show,” Evan tells him, his head resting on his chest with his arms wrapped around his middle. Tommy hasn’t felt this secure, with Evan’s comforting weight over him, in a long time. “I was looking up stuff about selective memory erasure and artificially separated identities.”
“Hm,” Tommy absently runs his fingers up and down Evan’s spine, feeling the man melt under him. “Is that why you seem so tired?”
“Maybe,” Evan huffs a small laugh, turning his head to bury his face into Tommy’s shirt, “but I just get sucked in.”
“I know.” Tommy can’t help the fond smile that creeps its way across his face. “It’s one of your many, many endearing qualities.”
“Y’know, with most others I would think you were being sarcastic.”
“I absolutely am not,” Tommy insists, leaning his head down to plant a kiss in Evan’s hair. “I could listen to you talk about your internet deep dives all day.”
Evan doesn’t reply, but Tommy feels the way his face shifts against his chest, like he’s smiling too. Good. Tommy is finding he’ll do just about anything to keep that smile on Evan’s face for as long as he can. The soft, easy hope that he’s seen Evan exude over the last few weeks makes him so happy. He knows he’s been a huge part of it, no doubt, but also just finally being able to step into his queer identity has made him blossom into this version of himself that is uninhibited, unbridled; absolutely teeming with pure joy.
“Are you gonna tell me about your binge?” Tommy asks softly, fingers still drifting up and down his back. When he doesn’t get a response, he pauses his movement and peeks down at Evan’s face to find it slack, mouth open and eyes shut, fast asleep.
He can’t help the warmth that blossoms throughout his chest. He must have been really tired if he fell back asleep, he doesn’t usually nap as far as he knows. He tries not to listen to the little voice in his head telling him it’s just because he’s there, and he makes Buck feel comfortable and relaxed.
He leans down and once again kisses Evan’s head, this time letting the kiss linger for a moment before letting his cheek rest against his hair and resuming his gentle stroking along his back.
“That’s alright, baby,” he whispers, silently and softly switching the TV to The Office reruns so Evan doesn’t miss their show. “We can talk later.”
He tries to watch the show playing quietly on the TV in front of him, but he quickly finds himself losing a battle with consciousness. The soft ministrations of his fingers along Evan’s back gradually slow to a stop and his own eyelids drift closed as he allows himself to be enveloped in the warmth of Evan’s presence, and they don’t wake again until lunch.
Not me writing a bunch of different scenes from all my WIPs that aren’t connected to each other and jump all over the place bc they’re the scenes I wanna write Alsjsjslsl
Thank you @leewithme for the fuck it Friday tag, and @giddyupbuck and @eddiediaaz for the WIP Wednesday tag I didn’t do lol
Here’s some it comes in waves, my Eddie SA fic. This is from chapter 8 (I THINK the last chapter but who knows tbh)
Eddie huffs, a smile making its way across his face.
“How do you know me so well?” He asks, not really expecting a response, mostly because he knows the answer. It’s the same reason he knows Buck. He never believed in soulmates but Evan Buckley came in and proved him wrong. He’s pretty sure whatever star formed the elements in his body is the same star that made up Buck. They know each other in the same way you know your own face or the route to your childhood home - intrinsically, instinctively.
“You’re easy to know,” Buck whispers, bending his neck to leave a kiss in Eddie’s hairline. “And I’m so happy that I get to know you.”
Tagging these wonderful people to share if they like!
