#I wonder what Ramon was up to during this since he only had a few signs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

datleggy · 4 years ago

Note

Buddie prompt: aggressively pro-buddie Helena and Ramon Diaz, who are ecstatic when Eddie tells them he's dating, and then utterly befuddled when he introduces Ana. But they decide to bite their tongues about it (Buck, their future son in law, has talked to them about respecting Eddie's decisions, however dumb, after all), until Ana (unwittingly? Innocently? No matter) makes a comment about Buck, and then all bets are off.

Hope this inspires you!

Helena is so relieved that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them, that she could cry. She feels awful that it took her so long to realize it.

It had been on Eddie’s last visit to Texas, when he and his crew had been fighting wildfires, that Ramon--her dense as can be when it comes to matters of the heart husband of all people--had noticed that their son was in love.

Helena still remembers saying goodbye to her son and his two teammates, remembers Ramon closing the door, waiting exactly all of five seconds before turning to her and saying, “I’m happy for him. He’s so stubborn, I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself get that close to someone again.”

And Helena had been confused at first, and then even chuckled when Ramon had explained calmly that clearly their son was dating his coworker Buck, until she’d stopped to really give it a moment’s thought. It had hit her all at once, how obvious those two were, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since they’d started dating and why Eddie hadn’t said anything yet.

She’s seen the photos on Instagram, Helena thinks, as their plane lands. Buck smiling next to her grandbaby after helping her son build him a skateboard he could safely ride in the park. Buck standing shoulder to shoulder with Eddie behind Tia and Christopher in that Christmas photo at the station. The selfie Eddie posted of him and Buck with the giant cast still on his leg the day of the ceremony for when he was no longer a probationary firefighter with the 118.

Really, she should’ve figured it out months ago.

When Eddie had called and told her he’d started dating again and that the next time they came to visit he’d make an introduction Helena had been thrilled!

Ramon drives them from the airport to their son’s place in their rental and Helena rambles on about how she hopes Buck isn’t too nervous to see them again, now that the cat’s out of the bag.

When they arrive Eddie greets them at the door with a big hug and ushers his parents inside and Helena is so ready to step into the living room and welcome Buck into the family with open arms, to show her son that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they love him and nothing in the world would change that--

Only to be met with....not Buck?

“Oh,” Helena stops dead in her tracks and Ramon stands beside her looking about as confused as she feels. “Hello.” she smiles politely enough.

The woman sitting next to Christopher on the couch stands up and she’s absolutely stunning, her curls bouncing on her shoulders when she stands up to exchange hello’s. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name is Ana.”

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, but Eddie can tell something is amiss the entire time, though he does a good job of hiding it from Ana, who’s her usual charming self through out lunch.

She has to take a work call at some point and excuses herself to another room and that’s when Eddie turns to his parents and half-whispers. “Ok, I know those looks. What’s wrong?”

Helena shakes her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what is it? Ana is perfect. She’s incredibly smart, she’s funny, she’s got a great job, good head on her shoulders, and Christopher loves her--so again, I ask, what’s wrong?”

Ramon follows his wife’s lead. “Mijo, really, it’s nothing. She’s great. We’re happy for you. I think we’re just a little tired from the flight, that’s all.”

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly but decides there isn’t much sleuthing that can be done at the moment, so all he can do is take them at their word for now. “Fine, if you say so.”

They’re in the middle of watching Nemo when Buck's name comes up.

"When the tsunami happened Buck and I sang 'just keep swimming' like Dory." Christopher grins up at his dad and Eddie ruffles the curls on his head playfully. It helps Christopher to be able to openly talk about what he went through that day, the good and the bad.

"You never told me Buck was there that day." Ana comments off handedly.

Eddie nods, "Huh, I thought I mentioned it? Buck took him to the pier that morning."

"It was scary but Buck saved me." Christopher tells his grandma, who reaches across the couch to squeeze his arm. Helena had been horrified to hear what had happened at the time; it still gives her anxiety just thinking about it.

"That's right." She says softly.

"I thought some woman you didn't know carried him to one of the tents, and that's how you two were reunited, no?" Ana asks.

"Yeah, but before that, during the initial impact Buck was with Christopher, he managed to get him up to this firetruck in the middle of everything. It was after he dove back into the water to save someone that a second wave came and swept Christopher right off and they got separated from there." Eddie recalls solemnly.

There had been blood running down the dirty wet bandage on his arm, he'd been soaked to the bone, exhausted and barely standing upright. It wasn't until Christopher had been found that Buck had allowed himself to collapse.

"Oh..." Ana frowns.

Ramon puts a hand over his heart and sighs. "It's a miracle, really."

Ana doesn't mean to say it outloud, but the words comes tumbling out of her mouth without warning. "And you're still friends with him?"

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry, really, it's just--I don't understand." Ana rubs her shoulder self consciously, fully aware of the fact that everyone is looking at her. "Look, Edmundo, you nearly bit my head off when Christopher got a skinned knee under my watch but you're still best friends with the man who lost your son for God only knows how long? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Ana knows how overprotective Eddie is of his son, and in fact, that's one of the reasons she likes him so much; she admires that about him and this? It doesn't track with the man she knows.

Helena wants to open her mouth and she say something in defense of Buck--he's a good man, after all. But she knows better than to get between a couple in an argument, especially given how bias she is towards her future son in law...

Instead, she clears her throat and looks at Christopher, "Honey, how about you help me and Grandpa unpack? I bought a lot of fun things from Texas for you."

Christopher doesn't want to go. His Dad looks upset. Ana looks upset. He wants to stay and help. If Ana met Buck she would understand, Christopher's sure of it. But his grandparents are already leading him down the hall and to the guest room.

Christopher hangs out with his grandparents for a few minutes before fibbing and telling them he needs to use the bathroom. They both offer to help him but he insists that he can do it himself, promising to call out if he needs them.

He sneaks the home phone into the bathroom with him and dials a number he knows by heart at this point. He waits a couple of rings before the call connects.

"Hey, what's up?" Buck's voice comes through the other end. He sounds distracted.

"Bucky? Can you come get me?" He whispers into the phone.

He hears a small commotion and then a stifled 'ow!' and then: "Chris? Are you ok? You're home, right? What's wrong? Where's Eddie?"

"I'm home. I'm ok. But--" there's a knock on the door and it startles Christopher into accidentally hanging up the phone before he can explain the situation in it's entirety.

"It was a tsunami." Eddie sighs, "It wouldn't be fair to hold something like that over his head. And look, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face, you don't know how many hours he spent crying out Christopher's name at the top of his lungs, injured and looking nonstop through the rubble for him--"

"Yeah, which he wouldn't have had to do if he hadn't lost him in the first place. It sounds like he was too busy playing hero for strangers to watch your son." Ana folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want to fight. Especially not with your parents here. Honestly, I'm just confused? We don't have to talk about this right now. I can go. I just want to apologize to your parents and Christopher first, before I leave, for," she sighs, embarrassed, "well, for causing a scene. This is not the way I'd pictured meeting your parents."

"You know, if you just met Buck I really think you would--"

A cacophony of knocks at the door make the both of them jump. Ana looks at Eddie. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"Christopher!? Christopher I'm here, open up!"

Eddie gapes. "...Buck?"

"Did you...call him over?" Ana didn't even see him reach for his phone.

"What? No, of course not." Eddie starts towards the door--the knocking has gotten so boisterous he's pretty sure Buck's about to break down his door--but Ana beats him to it.

At this point Eddie's parents and Christopher are in the hallway wondering what all that racket is.

Ana lets the door swing open, and if she's being entirely honest she's not sure what she's planning on saying to the man who's essentially at the center of her first real argument with her boyfriend, but whatever it was, it goes up in smoke when she takes in the sight of him.

Buck is taller than she'd pictured but that's not what's got her speechless.

He's standing at the doorway, chest heaving, clearly having rushed out of his house, where he was very obviously in the middle of shaving, if the shaving cream still smeared on a third of his face is any indication. He's in sweatpants and a white undershirt that's got little drops of blood on the front from where he must have cut himself while shaving. There's a bright red cut running down the underside of his chin.

"Um." Ana can't do much except stare, wide eyed.

Buck blinks at her, "Uh...Ana?" He suddenly realizes all the people in the house behind her are looking at him in a kind of stupor.

She nods slowly. "Buck?"

Buck nods sheepishly, "Uh... So, I am clearly interrupting something here."

"You came!" Christopher moves past all of the adults in the corridor and throws himself at Buck's legs.

Buck lifts the kid up easily enough, crutches and all, "Yeah, about that," he gently pinches his cheek, eliciting a giggle out of Christopher, "What was that phone call all about? You nearly gave me a heart attack, bud."

Eddie groans. "Christopher, did you call Buck to come all the way over here in the middle of the day?" He walks over and uses the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream on the side of Buck's face. The look on his face is fond as he does so. "What did this little menace say to get you over here in such a rush?"

Christopher pouts. "I just told him to come get me. I thought if Miss Ana met my Bucky she'd know how come you're still best friends." He grips at Buck's t shirt tightly. "You can't stop being friends, Dad. I love Buck. He's my friend too."

Buck frowns. "Umm..."

Eddie gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's not--it's complicated. I promise to explain everything later. Right now isn't really a great time--"

Ana interrupts hesitantly. "Actually, now is probably good. I need to get home soon, it's getting pretty late, so I should get going." She turns to Helena and Ramon. "It was very nice to meet you both." She scoohches past Buck and Christopher and practically sprints to where she parked her car, aware of the fact that Eddie is calling out her name and only half a step behind her.

It's not until they're several blocks down the street that she swivels around and he nearly topples into her in his haste. "Ana, please, I don't want you to leave like this. I really didn't call him over." He reaches into his back pocket and shows her his phone. "See?"

Ana takes the phone and presses her lips together thinly. "He called you like twenty times on his way over."

Eddie frowns. His phone must have been on silent. It's no wonder Buck rushed over like he did. "He was just worried about Christopher--"

Ana sighs resignedly. "No, I know. It's obvious, how much your best friend cares about your son. I can see why he's still in your life. And I think I can also see why that means you don't really have any room for me in it..."

Eddie shakes his head. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ana looks him in the eye, intent as can be on reading him. Eddie had smiled so warmly, creating such an unintentionally intimate moment when all he'd done was swipe at the other mans face with his sleeve...

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I think this is something you and Buck need to sort out yourselves. Goodbye Edmundo."

Eddie closes the door behind him as he steps inside, a little heartbroken and a lot confused.

There's noise coming from the kitchen and so Eddie follows it to the source. Ramon is telling Buck about how to sear the perfect steak by the stove while Helena and Christopher set the table.

"Is everything alright?" Helena asks, when she notices him by the entryway.

Eddie nods, lying when he says. "Yeah, all good Mom."

She gives him a knowing look but keeps her mouth shut. "Honey, take Buck here to your room, let him borrow one of your shirts. And maybe a razor?"

Buck chuckles shyly. "It's fine, really. I should probably get going too--"

Ramon shushes him. "Nonsense. Go, go, get changed and get your butt back into this kitchen. Scoot."

Eddie takes Buck by the shoulders and drags him to his room, where he finds a worn gray Henley for him. "Here."

Buck thanks him before stripping out of his white undershirt and throwing on the clean shirt.

Eddie plops himself down on his bed with a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry about all this mess. And on your one day off, too."

Buck sits down beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't really know what's going on but, are you doing ok?"

"I don't know," Eddie makes a face. "I think I got broken up with today."

Buck cringes. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?"

That's a good question. Eddie ponders that a moment. Ana had said it herself: she understood perfectly why Eddie didn't blame Buck for what happened during the tsunami and she had seen first hand how much Buck cares for Christopher for herself today.

So, why?

"She said that there wasn't any room for her in my life?" Eddie scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this dating stuff anymore."

"Aw, c'mon man," Buck pats him on the back. "You fall off the bike you gotta get right back on." He turns his body all the way around so that he's facing Eddie fully. "Dude, you're a catch. You're a handsome, badass firefighter, you've got the best kid, and hey--you got me." Buck grins toothily.

Eddie rolls his eyes, though he can't help but smile. "So what I'm hearing here is that I'm stuck with you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Buck laughs.

Eddie leans back on his arms and looks up at his best friend, pensive. "Promise?"

Buck extends his pinky and wiggles it in front of Eddie, who smiles as he wraps his pinky around Buck's. "Promise."

#long post is long #I'm gonna fix it and put a read more when my laptop stops fucking up 😩😩😩 sorry #911 fox #buddie

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Not A Piece of Art

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 3/5 - Don’t Fall In Love with Me

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Summary: Lines are crossed as you and Peña work to convince the targets of your unions legitimacy.

Rating: 18+ DNI If underage I will block u (don’t try me) , smut (ish?), fingering (woman receiving), swearing

Authors notes: whoop okay y’all, pretty new to *smut* so I’m trying my best please be kind with ur criticisms! Anyways this is a long one I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for all the kind words and support you guys are awesome💕💕

Word count: 6.4k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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Week 2

Sharing the massive California king bed with Javi was less of a palava than you’d expected. It was large enough that you were able to achieve a comfortable distance from him by sleeping on the bed's precipice. Despite your assumption that his annoying personality would carry over into sleep, he was actually the ideal person to share a room with. He fell asleep quickly, hardly moved and most importantly he didn't snore. As the week progressed your sharp edges began to smooth out, helping to relieve the tension making your living situation infinitely more tolerable. You’d relaxed into him slightly, your jaw no longer locking in fury when he so much as entered into your periphery. The surprising nature of the change was only overshadowed by the morning when he’d woken up to your leg wrapped around his waist and his own hand running absentmindedly up and down your thigh. Sometime during the night, and by no volition of your own, you’d maneuvered your way into his arms. Javi wasn’t sure what was more unbelievable, how peaceful you looked while near him or how he hadn’t immediately pushed you off him. The pyjamas you’d been wearing in an attempt to keep your body hidden had failed. Your basketball shorts had ridden up and the Ramones shirt that was obviously an ex-boyfriends had been pushed up by Javis hand during the night. He chuckles, when a faint snore escapes your lips, noting the irony of the situation considering you'd threatened to suffocate him if he so much as made a sound in the night. He wonders if you always looked this way in the morning, he’d never paid attention until he was trapped under you, his heart begins to race as your hand begins circling lightly on his chest. Not wanting you to wake up and see him staring down at you like some kind of stalker he quickly, but gently, rolls you onto your stomach. Besides, domesticity wasn’t an area he was comfortable with, and it definitely wasn’t on his to do list. Especially not with you.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting followed by water splashing onto the tiled floor wakes you up. You swallow, lick your lips and groan into the pillow, not wanting to spend another day living a facade. You roll over, realizing you’d once again shifted into the center of the bed during the night. You groan as you roll out of bed knowing the midday heat that was slowly creeping into frame would be followed shortly by the humidity. Your feet hit the marbled floor, cooling you down instantly as you walk towards the closet that could easily double as a second bedroom, choosing something light and airy to prevent you from sweating profusely. You brush the taste of morning out of your mouth before heading into the kitchen, where you're greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a mug of which is handed to you by the DEA agent, who was giving you a once over.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the mug and sitting down at the kitchen table.

“I have to ask you a question.” Javi says, once he was sure you had been sufficiently caffeinated.

“Should I be afraid?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as you take another sip of the coffee.

“What's your issue with me?” He asks outright.

“Too early to get into this.” you murmur.

“It's 11 but fine, keep your secrets. How about this one you spoon Steve when the two of you use too...” he stops, making an obscene gesture with his hand causing you to look over to him in disgust.

“What?” you ask, confused by more than one of those statements. His confidence dissipates, as he raises his hands up, shifting into defensive mode.

“I’ve never slept with Steve! Did he tell you we did? That’s so fucked up!” you start, face riddled with anger.

“No he never…” Javi tried to explain.

“Then why the fuck would think that!” you exasperate, throwing your hand up in the air, eyes wide waiting for his response.

“I saw you leave his room when we were on that case out of town” He blurts out, hands still up, further away from you than when the conversation had started.

“Ya! I slept on his couch because of you!” you exclaim.

“Me?” he asks, now more confused than ever.

“Yes! Well I guess technically by the women loudly proclaiming there satisfaction with your performance”

“Is that why you hate me? Because I kept you awake for a few nights” he laughs, unable to accept something so minor had resulted in the fiery feud between the two of you.

“One of many reasons” you retort, drawing out the ‘many’, to justify your grudge.

“Can't control what women do when i’m with them, Cariño .” he says, still in disbelief that something so small was the root of your hatred.

“You know it's fake right?” you say, cocking an eyebrow “Like you don’t actually think that it's real? you may be good but there's no way you're that good. Believe me i've been that person before and not to hurt your ego but...”

“No definitely not trying anything” he says, cutting you off. You were currently giving him more and more reason to hate you. He’d have a better reason for it than you currently did, you continuously treated him like shit, and for something so stupid. Enraged, and pride slightly shot, he grabs the remainder off his coffee and a pack of cigarettes heading out to the balcony to cool off. He lights his cigarette and leans out onto the railing, staring over to the mansion where you were being watched. He can’t let you get to him like that, it was too risky, there was already one hot head in this duo, it didn't need another. Taking a long drag of the cigarette he calls you over, and to his surprise you oblige. Guess you could be compliant when you wanted to be.

“They’re watching” he says as you enter onto the balcony. You lean back onto the railing looking up at him confused.

“This whole wall is made of glass, we need to make sure it's turned on whenever they can see us,” he explains. You hated to admit it, but he was right, this act needed to become more permanent. The pained look evident on your face, as you accept your fate causes Javi to smile. Suddenly endeared by your expressiveness, at least he never had to wonder what you were thinking. He wraps his arms around you pulling you into him, for a tight embrace as he rubs his hand down your back. The tension leaves your body, despite his flaws Peña was an excellent hugger. You decided to try and say one good thing about him everyday until this whole fiasco was over and you never had to put up with each other again.

“I’m going to go down to the beach” you say, knowing the ocean was the one place that could keep you calm. Your rage absorbed by the waves, breaking as they crashed into the rocks of the shoreline. You change into an overly revealing one piece before heading down to shore barefoot, happy to have some time away from the confinement of your shoes and the house. You lay the towel out on rock with your cover up prepared to let the water wash over you when you hear your name called. You turn to see Helena spread out on the sand like a cover girl, tilting her oversized sunglasses down as she beckons you over.

“How are you settling in?”

“Better than expected” you say smiling, sitting down on the sand next to her.

“You're lying to me..” she says causing your stomach to drop “glass walls we see everything the two of you have been fighting non-stop.”

“Must it be like having free tv?” you laugh, “The fights are my fault, since the move, i've lost my edge. I haven’t painted anything good in months and I’ve been taking it out on him”

“Hmmm” she hums out, eyes scanning yours, looking for a crack to pry into.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You almost have me convinced, but there's something I can't quite explain, something is amiss between the two of you. What secrets do you harbour? I’d love to know”

“None,” you pause for a moment contemplating your next move carefully, “at least none that involve him” you say eyes meeting her’s she raises her eyebrows and puts her sunglasses back on, seemingly satisfied for now, or simply having lost interest. She stands up, grabbing her towel and book.

“We’re scheduled to have a few new pieces arrive this week, you should come see them once they arrive. Bring your husband. Carlos would be thrilled to see him as would I. Shall we say this coming Saturday?” she asks.

“I’ll have to check, but that would be lovely.” You watch her leave, before standing up and brushing the sand off your ass. You make your way over to the shallows and dive beneath the water. Javi watches from the windowsill as your figure disappears beneath the waves, a strange feeling of concern staying with him until he sees you resurface.

You plod back up to the house as the sun begins to set, not wanting to get stuck out after dark. You walk into the house and the smell of something fills your nostrils, was he cooking? You take a quick shower before returning to the kitchen to see a very disgruntled looking Javi who had evidently made an effort to cook for you both as a gesture of good faith.

“Smells good” you say, you weren't going to criticize him for actually trying to be a better roommate.

“Probably the only thing about it that's good” he grumbles sitting down across from you.

“Well this is not as bad as I thought” you say the food was actually edible, but that was really as much credit he’d be getting.

“Thank you”

“For what?” you respond.

“Lying to spare my feelings” he says.

“ First off I'd never lie to protect your ego and secondly, well I appreciate the effort, you’ve now proven to me that you really can't cook, so I will start cooking for you as well.” you offer

“Thank god” he says, standing up and heading over to the sink.

“I'll wash up, you cooked” you say nudging him out the way so you can get to the sink. He drops the dishes, willing to let you take over, standing at the counter watching you as you clean.

“ She thinks there is something off about us, Helena, I saw her at the beach, she practically said we weren't who we were pretending to be.” you state, turning back to see if he’s listening. “Probably not helped by the fighting I suppose” you admit.

“Probably not.” Javi says.

“Oh and we're going to theres for dinner later this week, the tests came back positive so drugs are definitely coming into contact with the paintings. You need to get him to ask us to make him a fake copy, or at least to admit he’s sending fakes.”

“Begs the question, where are the real things?” he asks.

“Who knows. Gotta be somewhere, he’d have to own them so that when they get mailed it doesn't look sketchy.”

“Mhmm,” he says absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You ask whipping the towel at his head, noticing he's checked out completely.

“What?” he says, forehead creased, still looking concerned.

“What are you thinking about?”

“About how to convince them that we are... you know… together… physically” he states cautiously.

“Well maybe we only do it in the bedroom, or maybe we don’t do it all? Relatioships dont need to have sex.” you explain.

“No, but I may have suggested that we do it frequently and everywhere” he says sheepishly, eyes on the counter.

“Great” you sigh. “Well, go on, sounds like you have a suggestion.” you continue tilting your head as you continue to dry a pan.

“It's an indecent proposal, but a proposal nonetheless” he draws out.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Peña, get to the point” you say, turning the dish back on the rack.

“I think we could stage what would be considered the beginning stages of it, well within their view without it being obvious”

“Where? In the living room?”

“Yes, but we’d move to the bedroom before anything serious happened” he swallows, prepared for any reaction.

“Alright,” you sigh “but no mouth kissing” he laughs “What?”

“No mouth kissing? How old are you?”

“Shut up!” you say, going to punch him in the arm, but he grabs your wrist rubbing his thumb over it, smiling when you get flustered, pulling away quickly.

The next morning he finds you in the bathroom, hair pulled back out of your face as an exasperated groan escapes your lips.

“You don’t have to put makeup on for me” he smirks, just when you were starting to find him tolerable he went and did something that made your blood boil.

“I’m not putting makeup on” you, murmur. A half lie, you were currently in the throes of trying to artfully create fake hickeys on your neck.

“They're not usually sparkly, you know,” he remarks, smiling as your jaw clenches slightly and your nose scrunches up.

“Ugh, you think I don’t know that! “ You say, grabbing a towel and rubbing the skin raw.

“Don’t worry I’ll leave some tonight” he states.

“You know we're not actually...” you assure looking at him through the mirror.

“I'm well aware, but I want them to look real, nothing intrusive scouts honour” he says holding his hand over his heart.

“Please Peña we both know you're anything but a boy scout. You realize you’ll need some as well.” you state,

“Deal” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Had he just gotten exactly what he wanted? You stand in the bathroom, brows knitted and lips parted as you try and figure out the answer.

It’s after dinner and you stand in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. The racy lingerie you had chosen was hitting every curvature of your body perfectly. You want to cover yourself up. Showing your body to someone new was always nerve wracking, even if this was simply an act you still had a sinking feeling in your stomach. A feeling brought on by the deeply rooted fear of disappointing someone.

You pull on a sheer robe with a faint gold floral pattern, it didn’t cover you up much, but it did make you feel less vulnerable. You pull on the high heels that match the lingerie, thanking god that you only had to walk a few meters to your destination.

The distinct clack of high heel on marble causes Javier's head to turn. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you striding down the hall. He shifts in his seat biting his tongue to distract from the current urges he was feeling. He reminds himself that none of this was real and that he had to keep his cool. You already despised him for being an ass, he didn't want you adding pervert to the list of things you currently hated about him. He leans forward, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray, swallowing hard as you come to stand before him. His eyes move slowly up your body to meet your gaze, but your eyes are looking over him. He puts out the cigarette and places his hands on your hips roughly pulling you down onto his lap. His hands ease up and down your back venturing only as far as the contract would allow.

“What no snarky comment?” you say finally looking down to meet his deep brown eyes.

“Nothing to complain about from my end” he murmurs, his hands rubbing over your calves.

“Gross” you whisper

“Que me estas haciendo hermosa”’ “What are you doing to me sweetheart?” he asks, momentarily forgetting you knew how to speak Spanish.

“What was that?” you say enjoying the power you currently had over the usually cocky agent, who was seemingly in trance. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word in you place a kiss on his jaw line. His mouth hangs open as you begin to trail kisses down his neck. You stop beside a prominent vein caused by his jaw being so tightly clenched. You graze your teeth over the area before biting down on the tanned skin. He thanks himself for deciding to wear jeans and not something thinner, feeling himself strain against the fabric. His grip on your waist becomes vice like when you begin to suck on the area you’d just marked. The soft moan that Javi unwillingly emits takes you by surprise causing you to giggle.

The laugh awakens something in Javi and he growls as he stands up, taking you with him. You wrap your legs around him to steady yourself as he buries his head in your neck. You inhale sharply as he latches onto your skin, immediately locating a sensitive spot. Your head goes back as he nips at the area, biting your lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. You move your hands through his hair pulling it so he detaches from you, dark eyes staring into your own before quickly moving to your collarbone. He bites down causing you to buck into him, and you could practically feel him smirk into your skin as he moves down to your chest, working overtime to get some kind of noise from you.He drops you onto the couch causing your hair to fall in front of your face, as you work to steady your breathing. You understood why he was sent to get information from women, despite your constant attempts to belittle him, there was no denying that he knew what he was doing.He kneels down in front of you and pushes your legs open.

“Peña” you warn.

“Just marks, I promise” he says and you give him the go ahead. He kisses above your knee before working his way along your inner thighs stopping just before the hem of your underwear staying there long enough to convince anyone watching that he was tending to your needs. You're sure he can see your arousal, despite your attempts to hide it when his teeth had grazed against your inner thigh your body betrayed you. You could feel yourself slowly soaking through the thin fabric. You pull his head back and he pushes himself up onto his elbow positioning his body over you.

“Think they've seen enough?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Probably” he says, if he was a worse man he would have lied and gone back down between your thighs, silently hoping you’d allow him to venture further. His hands pull you into him and your arms wrap around his neck as he lifts you up again, walking you both towards the bedroom. You tried to keep your crotch away from his torso, fearful that you'd leave a stain on his shirt, you’d never live it down if he found out. He stops once more in the kitchen propping you in the counter to mark your neck up a bit more, when you try to squirm your hips away from him he digs his fingers into your skin locking you in place. He pulls you off the counter and carries you into the bedroom, mouth still attached to your skin, willing to take this as far as you would allow.

“Stop” you whisper, pulling yourself out of the situation. Immediately he removes his mouth and drops you onto the bed where you fall with a slight bounce. He walks over to the closet grabbing some sleepwear.

“You want to use the bathroom first or?” he asks as if nothing had just happened.

“No, I just need to brush my teeth, you go ahead.” you lie, knowing full well you had to wipe yourself clean as well.

Javi shuts the door making sure it locked before he growls in frustration, he’d half hoped you wouldn't have stopped him. He thought you’d been enjoying what he was doing, most women did and he knew fucking the rage out of you would feel phenomenal. Maybe women were just that good at faking it, though he swore he could make out a wet patch seeping through your lingerie. His cock, which had been at half mast since you walked into view, had been straining painfully against his jeans for the past 10 minutes. He groans as he finally frees it, contemplating wrapping his hand around it and fixing the problem right now, but he can’t risk you hearing him. He turns on the shower instead, letting it run cold before stepping into it. He walks out 30 minutes later to find you passed out on the bed, the soft snoring that was slowly growing on him filling the room. He crawls under the covers, waiting patiently for you to find your way over to him. Even in the dark he can see his handiwork beginning to take shape, he smiles knowing he’d left them there, only wishing the scumbags back at the office could see them, so they’d finally stop pestering you.

“God I feel like I'm in highschool again” you say running your hands over your neck.

“What the fuck were you doing in highschool?” Javie laughs. How the hell had you gotten out of it looking like a mosaic while he’d only got stuck with the few you’d managed to leave on his neck.

“Come here” you say, watching as he gets out of bed, it was one of the rare mornings that you’d actually woken up before him.

“Why?” he asks stretching as he shifts out of bed leaning his elbows on his knees as he reaches for a cigarette

“I've got to scratch your back up a bit, and don’t smoke in the bedroom!” you chastise.

“Really?” he asks, walking towards you leaving the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Ya look at these nails? They leave marks,” you say wiggling your fingers in front of his face. He stops in front of you allowing you to hook your hands under his arm to get to his back. Apparently, Peña was most compliant when he'd just woken up and before his coffee. Slowly, you rake your painted nails down his back causing an involuntary growl to come out.

“You all done?” he mumbles

“Yup” you respond

Week 3

The following days fly by and it's not long before it's time for you to go to your neighbours for dinner again. The bruises on your skin left by Peñas skillful mouth were still prevalent, but now in the unflattering healing process. You walk into the kitchen in another lingerie set, having taken to walking around half naked now Javi had already seen you in such and you no longer considered him a threat. He’d demonstrated his ability to understand basic consent by not forcing you to continue after you'd told him to stop. A low bar, but still one that wasn't crossed. You scoot up onto the counter and he hands you a coffee running his hands up and down your thighs as you take a sip.

“They still watching?” you sign out, annoyed at having someone in your personal space so early in the morning.

“I think so, I've seen a few people move in and out the house, a couple of cars driving up as well, but they've gone now. Wonder if they've got a new piece come in, maybe something you can copy for them.” he says.

“Ya Helena had mentioned something about new arrivals. Think I'll get to see it tonight?” you yawn, as he flicks his lighter failing at getting a flame to appear.

“Hopefully” he grunts, you grab the cigarette from his lips, placing it between your own before taking the lighter and getting it in one. You take a drag as he kisses your neck before taking the cigarette back from you and heading out onto the balcony.

“Welcome!” Carlos booms opening the door to you both, embracing Javi and kissing you on the cheek. “She's more beautiful with every passing day, though I did prefer her skin when it was all one colour” Carlos remarks, raising his brows to Javi in congratulations.

“I can get overzealous,” he laughs.

“A need to mark his property, it's what men do isn't it Cariño ?” he says looking at you as you force a smile.

“Hello, apologies I was in the washroom” Helena says making her way down the staircase. Peña takes the moment to wrap himself around you biting gently on your earlobe.

“Helena perfect timing, take Melanie to the bar, get her a drink, I need an opinion from her husband.”

“You look at her as if you’ve never been with her before, full of wonderment.” Carlos says closing the door to his office and gesturing for Javier to sit on the significantly shorter chair as he takes his place in front of the large oak desk.

“The beauty of loving an artist, they wear many different faces, everyday she's new to me. How can I be of assistance?” he asks.

“That is the wrong question. Can you be of assistance? I believe you to be genuine, but my wife is neurotic, you know how they are. She seems to think you and your wife are not who you say you are. She’s suspicious after a recent unpleasantness with the previous residents of your home, you see.”

“Who can blame her. Many people have questioned our relationship, they think someone like her would only be with me for one reason. But I know the truth, even if the rest of the world doesn't” Javi explains. Helena was smarter than her husband, thank god she wasn't in here with them. He’s sure she’d see through him.

“That's what I believe as well, so by asking you this I put myself in a very precarious position. One I hope you will appreciate. I will not share the details but I need your wifes services.” Carlos states,

“I don't think she would be comfortable…” Javi starts, playing up his incompetence.

“Ha, not those kinds of services though I would not pass up the opportunity. You say she can make copies of art?”

“Yes.”

“Can she recreate this,” he asks, pulling out a photo of a painting in a local museum. Not famous enough to draw attention, but well known enough to not be handled by too many people as it passed through security.

“I'll have to ask her, but I don’t see it being an issue” he says

“Have her do it, drop it off when she's done.” He demands.

“I assume her name won't be attached to this, if anything happens”

“Of course not, we keep our friends safe.”

“Good” Javi nods his head slowly sucking on his teeth as he rises from the chair.

After dinner Helena and Carlos excuse themselves. Leaving you along with Javi,

“I have to pee, I'll be back” you say, standing up and trying to find the bathroom you’d used the last time you were here. You find yourself lost, but you follow the sounds of raised voices, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“You have involved them too soon they cannot be trusted!” Helena whisper yells

“Helena you’ve truly lost your mind this time, did you see the marks on her neck between her legs, how do you explain those?” he says slamming his fists onto the desk.

“Marks can be manufactured, they mean nothing! If we go down it's your fault” she says through gritted teeth.

“If they so much as step a toe out of line, i'll kill them both myself”

“Watch them tonight, she recoils slightly at his touch before settling in, somethings off, I know it.” She states

“Do not presume to tell me how to run this business, and do not blame me for your over emotional outburst again, you know what happens when you stop serving your intended purpose” He spits.

You quickly turn, not wanting to stick around any longer, the sound of there not so silently yells drowning out the clack of heels as you scurry back down the hall. Javi, who had gone out in search of you after you failed to return, is winded as you almost slam into him. He looks down to see a very obvious look of distress on your face. He pulls you into the bathroom locking the door behind him.

“What?” he asks, shaking his head.

“What yourself?” you spit back, despite the confident tone he can see that you’re shaking. He places his hands on your shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing circles helping to calm you down. “they're not buying it” you say, if you didn't get it together you’d both be screwed.

“You can't go back out there like this they'll know.” he murmurs, unsure how to stop you from going into a complete meltdown. He should have better prepared you for the psychological trauma of being undercover.

“I’m sorry, i'm going to blow this.” you say, the first time he’d gotten an apology from you.

“I have an idea, but you stop me if you...” he starts

“Do what you have to.” you say, needing to forget what you’d just heard, not waiting to end up in a body bag.

He lifts you up onto the granite countertop between the two sinks shifting up the thin material of your dress up as he does. He pulls down your underwear, stuffing it into one of his pockets as he pushes your knees apart taking a moment to take in the view. He makes quick work of putting his mouth on you. Sucking down on the already sensitive skin, you emit a loud moan, unable to mask how good the pain felt. His hand moves over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby we can't be too loud” he murmurs into your skin as his hand slips the strap off your shoulder exposing your breasts. He massages it intermittently pinching your nipple until it buds while his mouth works away at your neck. You go to move your thighs together, desperate to create some friction when he bites down on your collarbone, but he uses his leg to keep them separated. He runs his hand down your body. You whimper slightly as he slowly drags a single digit up and down your slick folds gathering up your juices.

“Maybe those women weren’t as fake as you thought.” He says, his mouth attaching to your exposed nipple, preventing you from responding.

“What was that “ he asks, smugly slowly circling around your clit as he sinks two fingers into you. He feels you clench around him when he grazes up against your most sensitive area.

“Jesus your fucking tight” he half moans into your neck as he begins to slowly pump his thick digits in and out, his thumb continuously circling around your swollen clit. You arch your back in an attempt to get him deeper inside you, encouraging him to pump faster, curling his fingers to apply pressure to your g-spot. His mouth goes back to your breast and he bites down on your nipple causing you to whine out desperately.

“Are you faking it now?” he asks, smirking down at you, you don’t know why but the cockiness was doing it for you. Unable to respond you close your eyes and throw your head back. He hears your breath get shorter, and he feels your walls begin to flutter around him. You clench down on his hand as you climax, his hand covering your mouth stopping any noise from reverberating out of the bathroom. He leaves his hand over your mouth until he feels your breathing calm, his thumb running over your cheek bone as he does. He brings the hand down to your throat squeezing it gently as he reluctantly removes his fingers from the warmth of your pussy. He bites his tongue when he hears the disappointed huff leave your lips at the loss of his hand. You watch as he washes his hands and exits the bathroom leaving you to deal with the mess he’d made.

“Excuse us, my wife she gets emotional somethime, things come over her, you know how women can be.” he explains to Carlos and Helena who had been waiting in the bar for who knows how long. You appear behind him flustered, hair messed dress slightly askew, new marks already forming on your neck. Helena looks impressed, Carlos looks surprised, your appearance made it clear as to what had just happened in their bathroom. A fact made even more obvious by your underwear which was currently hanging out one of his pockets. You quickly go up and stuff it deep down the extreme embarrassment you currently felt had completely overtaken the fear of being killed. Had he planned this?

“Emotional, is that what they're calling it these days” Carlos asks, shooting Helena an ‘I told you so’ look. At least one of them was convinced.

As you walk back into your house you bend over taking off your shoes, snapping up immediately when you remember you weren't wearing any underwear. You were dreading the inevitable bragging that was sure to come. You remind yourself that it wasn't really you in that bathroom. It was your character, you didn't cum for Javi, Melanie Alvirez did. You still still hated him.

“He wants you to paint him a copy of this” Peña says, coming up behind you, sliding the photo into your view.

“He trusts us?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Not enough to tell me what it's for, but after that little performance I think he may just tell us what's going on. One last thing.” He says shifting out of his jacket, losing the tie around his neck. “Don’t fall for me,” he says.

“Oh please” you laugh, embarrassment replaced by annoyance.

“Seriously, It wouldn’t be the first time” he brags

“You may be good looking Peña, but you're not a piece of art, so get over yourself” you dig.

“Meaning?” He questions, still smiling.

“Pretty, but lacking depth” you say, returning a fake smile.

“So you think im good looking and good at fucking?’ he continues, hoping to rile you up.

“When did I ever say I thought you were good at fucking?” you ask, fully prepeared to knock his ego back down after accidentally inflating it.

“Your right didn’t say it, moaned it” he emphasizes leaning over the counter.

“Congratulations Peña you know where a woman's clit is! Would you like a round of applause, maybe a participation ribbon, a plaque reading ‘man does the bare minimum’?”

“You’re seriously tryna tell me it wasn’t good?” now you were just making him angry, reactions don’t lie. He’d watched your face, every breath, every bite of your lip as you tried to stop yourself from screaming his name. He knew you'd enjoyed it, he felt you clench around him, felt you soak his fingers.

“No, I'm telling you that you're not ‘screaming through the walls loud’ good!” His teeth are gritted and his nostrils flare as he throws his hands up in the air, heading towards the bedroom. He needed to get away from you. Not wanting to throw you down on the closest surface and show you just how good he could be.

You watch as he storms off into the bedroom, your shoulders deflate and for the first time you consider that maybe you’d gone too far. You’d been trying to piss him off, trying to hurt his feelings, and you’d overstepped. Especially considering you weren’t exactly being truthful. Was he good? Yes. Did you have to take more time than you'd care to admit getting yourself together afterwards? Maybe. Were you curious to know if he could actually make you scream? Absolutely. But he also wasn’t the first guy to leave you feeling that way. It was good but it wasn’t ‘scream it from the rooftops’ good. You wonder if he was even trying, or if he wasn’t invested in your pleasure just giving you enough to make it look believable for the neighbours. The thought leaves you even more interested in his full abilities in the bedroom, not that you'd ever tell anyone that, or that you'd ever do it. You wait an hour or so before going into the bedroom and falling asleep.

In an attempt to clear the air you make breakfast the next morning. Javi appears from the front door, he’d been down to the beach early in an attempt to get you out of his head. He sits down at the bar furiously trying to get his lighter to start up. He sees your hand appear, not looking up he hands you the lighter and lets you pluck the cigarette from his mouth lighting it up in one, before offering it back to him. A moment later a delicious looking breakfast appears beneath him finally causing him to look up.

“Look, I took it too far last night and i'm sorry if I said...” you start

“Save it” Javi says, tucking into the food before him “nothing to apologize for if you were telling the truth.” the use of the word ‘if’ irks you the wrong way, but you let it slide. “besides, it's not like it matters, I only put work in for the women who actually want me”

“Fair enough” you say snorting, causing him to look to you again

“What?” he asks, trying to maintain his scowl, but failing upon hearing the unrefined sound come out of you.

“Your bedside manner never fails to delight me” you say cleaning up the dishes “i'll take this as im forgiven” you nod to the plate that was now empty.

“For what? No offense sweetheart, I don’t take much stock in others' opinions of me.” You did admire that about him, he really didn’t care what others thought about him. You marked that down as his good quality for the day.

#not a piece of art #part 3 #smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javi x reader #agent peña x you #narcos fanfic #javi x y/n

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bumblesimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Still A Costa

Request: Yes or No

I haven't seen a single fic for this series on Tumblr. For anyone curious, since Bayardo (Ramon's actor) is 37 I'm gonna make Ramon 37 which means when (Y/N) was born, he was around 19.

'Yesterday night, Cassie Shore, a student at the prestigious Archer School Of Ballet, fell four stories down from the roof of the school. Miss Shore, who was an exceptional dancer and beloved by her fellow peers, is currently in the hospital in a deep coma. The director, Monique Dubois, has stated the following-'

"What a load of bullshit." (Y/N) muttered, shutting his phone off as he leaned back in his seat. Cassie Shore was hated by everyone. Nobody there truly loved her. They all hoped she'd break an ankle. (Y/N) felt the bus stop and grabbed his bag, standing up. He exited the bus, letting out a deep sigh. He never expected to be back in Chicago but his brother wanted him there. (Y/N) was much happier in Madrid. The mere thought of bumping into any of his old acquaintances gave him a headache. Unlike his brother, (Y/N) wasn't as wellknown. He was only eighteen yet he already had a job as a photographer. (Y/N) felt his phone vibrate in his hand, looking at the contact.

Mona

"Fuck off already." (Y/N) huffed lightly, rolling his eyes. He answered the call, walking forward as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"This is the twenty-fifth time you've called me this week and it's only Tuesday. What do you want?" (Y/N) asked, getting a taxi. Monique hummed. (Y/N) watched a car pull over.

"Is that any way to speak to an adult? Especially someone who practically raised you?"

"Ramon raised me. You were just his pedo girlfriend." (Y/N) said, putting his bag in the car and getting in. He moved the phone away from his face, quietly giving the driver the address.

"How's Madrid? I heard your brother ditched Paris and is back in Chicago. When are you gonna come back?" Monique asked gently. (Y/N) scoffed, leaning back in the seat. He turned his head slightly, watching the buildings pass by.

"Face it, Mona. You only call when you want something. What is it?" (Y/N) asked.

"I see Ramon taught you nothing but attitude. Fine. I was hoping you'd be able to convince your brother to choreograph for me. I see what he's done for Delia. He should do something for the school as well." Monique responded, the fake sweetness in her voice dropping. (Y/N) let out a small chuckle, shaking his head lightly.

"He'd never do it. Not even if I asked. Plus, he knows I don't care about ballet. He'd know you begged me to ask."

"I'm not begging-"

"You are." (Y/N) cut off, toying with the strings of his hoodie. "And even if I agreed, you'd have to give me something in return."

"You wouldn't do it as a favor to an old friend?" Monique asked.

"No. I don't have friends. Just people I know." (Y/N) replied.

"Was Cassie not a friend? You've probably heard about what happened to her by now. Are you not gonna visit?"

"Cassie and I are history. I have no business visiting her or trying to make amends. She's half dead, isn't she? I don't bother dead people." (Y/N) answered, annoyance in his voice as he got his wallet out and gave the driver some money. He got out of the car, closing the door and watching the car drive off. His gaze settled on Ramon's house, eyeing the front door.

"Always dramatic." He approached the house, opening and closing the door. He glanced around, sighing. He headed up to his old room, entering and finding it just the same as he had left it. Ramon was still young when (Y/N) was born and thrusted into his life. Ramon held resentment towards him during the first few years since his parents up and disappeared and Ramon had to travel around with a baby but as (Y/N) got older, the resentment was replaced with brotherly love. (Y/N) tossed his bag on the messy bed, looking over his bookshelf. Seemed like either Delia or Ramon had added more books. (Y/N) approached the shelf, picking up the new additions.

"Sharp Objects, The Bell Jar, White is For Witching, and House of Leaves." (Y/N) read the names aloud, humming softly. He put them back, continuing to look around the room. He only returned to Chicago to watch Ramon's debut ballet. (Y/N) sat on the bed, unpacking his bag. He took out his camera, placing it on his nightstand. He grabbed his phone, getting an uber and heading out. (Y/N) thoughts wondered back to his and Cassie's last exchange.

"Are you fucking serious? My brother?" (Y/N) stared at her. Cassie swallowed, shaking her head.

"It was a one time thing! When I graduate, I can have Ramon wrapped around my finger and it'll help boost my career!" Cassie explained, staring at him. (Y/N) scoffed, shaking his head.

"You have a habit of using Costas, you know that?" (Y/N) asked, looking away from her.

"I never used you. You were my best friend and-"

"And you used me to get closer to Ramon. I always wondered what went wrong. I'm glad we got that cleared up." (Y/N) ran a hand through his hair, unable to look at the girl. Cassie stepped closer to him.

"You're wrong-"

"I always knew you were a selfish bitch." (Y/N) muttered, walking past her and leaving the hotel room.

(Y/N) blinked, feeling the car stop. (Y/N) thanked the driver and got out, staring up at the old building. He closed the door and walked forward, gaze dropping to the dried blood on the pavement. He went up the steps, entering the school. (Y/N) stuck his hands in his pockets, heading up to Monique's office. Selena glanced up, doing a double take and quickly standing as her eyes widened.

"Mr. Costa, I wasn't-"

"Yeah, nobody knows I'm here. I want it to stay that way." (Y/N) said, opening the door and entering the office. Monique looked up from her phone, brows raising. She stood, taking off her reading glasses.

"Well, someone got here fast." She breathed out, dismissing Selena with a wave of her hand.

"I was already here when you called and ruined my mood even more." (Y/N) replied, glancing around the office. He plopped down on one of the chairs, arms crossing.

"So, Cassie pulls a Humpty Dumpty and you think my brother is gonna clean up the mess?" (Y/N) cocked a brow, watching Monique sit back down. She chuckled, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

"A choreographed dance by him would pull people's attention somewhere else." Monique said, shrugging lightly. "Your brother has been ignoring me."

"I would too. You're really persistent and annoying." (Y/N) said, eyes sweeping over her desk.

"Any lawsuits?"

"The police declared it an accident."

"Was it?"

"I thought you and Cassie were history?" Monique cocked a brow, tilting her head. (Y/N)'s jaw clenched as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we are. I'm just curious if there's a potential murderer among the staff or students." (Y/N) shrugged.

"She's alive." Monique reminded.

"Barely. You think she didn't bust her head open when she fell? Who survives a fall like that?" (Y/N) questioned. Monique leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk.

"Why are you here, (Y/N)?" Monique asked. (Y/N) sat up, licking his lips as he stood up.

"I was wondering if anything changed at the school. Since you're still director.. That means nothing has changed. All the work you put into this school and still only medicore dancers graduate. You have a star dancer once every couple of years. Delia was the lastest one." (Y/N) shrugged, grabbing the edge of the desk as he leaned forward.

"Who's the next star?" (Y/N) asked, tilting his head. They turned their heads as the door opened and a girl entered.

"Neveah Stroyer." Monique replied. (Y/N) hummed, looking back at her.

"Let's hope she doesn't have a great fall." (Y/N) leaned back, stepping away from the desk.

"Neveah meet (Y/N) Costa." Neveah's brows rose, looking at (Y/N). Her eyes shined with excitement.

"I've read some of your books and seen the photographs you take. They're amazing." Neveah said, walking forward and shaking his hand. (Y/N) hummed.

"Maybe you'll take some pictures for the school." Monique said, smiling. (Y/N) hummed, looking at the older woman.

"I'd rather choke." He replied, giving her a fake smile. Neveah's brows raised, clearing her throat. (Y/N) walked past Neveah, opening the door.

"Good luck surviving with rats and sharks, Neveah!"

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #tiny pretty things #tiny pretty things x reader #tiny pretty things x male reader #tiny pretty things x you #tiny pretty things x y/n #ramon costa #ramon costa x reader

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years ago

Text

First Date

Pairing: Duff McKagan x (fem) reader

Words: 1.421k

Summary: You and Duff go on your first date together. (fluff)

A/N: This is my first fic, so please tell me if it's shitty or not. And tell if you guys think I should write more.

It was a Thursday night, you were working on your shift at The Rainbow when a group of guys entered the place. There were five of them and you had never seen them here before.

The first one was a ginger of average height, he was wearing a blue bandana on his hair, black leather pants and a t-shirt. Right behind him came a brunette guy, taller than the guys around him he wore a black unbuttoned shirt and leather pants. On his side was another brunette, but his hair was curly and he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Then came a blonde boy of average height and fuzzy hair, he wore a white tank top and a pair of jeans.

On your eyes they seemed like nothing out of the usual until the last one entered the place. He was tall. Like, really tall. His hair was blonde and teased, he was wearing black leather pants and a Ramones shirt, and for some odd reason you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

They sat on a table and you got your notepad and went to ask for their orders.

"Welcome to The Rainbow, what can I get you guys today?" They looked at you for a few seconds and your eyes moved to the tall blonde guy, he was staring, so you quickly looked back to the ginger and hoped none of them would notice the blush creeping your cheeks.

"One Tequila, one vodka, one red wine, a beer and one whiskey, please" said the ginger one. You wrote quickly on your notepad before looking back to them and giving a small smile "Alright, I'll be right back".

You went to the bar and told the barman the order. Once he gave you all the booze you went back, putting the different glasses and bottles on the table. "My name is Y/N, if you guys need something else just call me". The blonde with fuzzy hair said thank you to you and gave you a bright smile.

After sometime you were still serving tables when you felt as if someone was looking at you, you looked back and realized it was the tall blonde. However he looked away so quickly that you doubted if he was really looking at you, or if it was just your imagination.

"Y/N!" You heard someone shout. It was Jack, the barman. "I'll have a cig, can you stay at the bar for me for a while?" He asked, already leaving the counter. You just nodded and moved to his previous place.

Not even a minute had passed when you noticed someone approaching the bar, you looked up and there it was, the tall blonde guy. "What can I get you, big guy?"

"Five beers, please" He said with a low voice.

You put the beers on the counter and decided to start some small talk while you opened the bottles. "So… Ramones huh?"

He smiled for a second and you thought that he looked beautiful when he smiled. "You like 'em?"

"Hell yeah!" You said opening the last bottle. He looked in your eyes for some seconds before giving one last smile and taking the beers.

----

That was almost a year ago. You smiled to yourself remembering that night while the same five guys entered the bar again.

They had become frequent, coming at least once a week. Guns 'n Roses was now known for almost everybody at the Sunset Strip, they were playing gigs everywhere, including at the Rainbow.

"Hello Y/N!" Said Steven, always smiling. "Hey Stevie, how are you?"

"I'm brilliant" you smiled at him and answered to the hellos of the rest of the group.

You guys have become close during the past months, now you even considered the boys some of your closest friends.

They sat at their typical table and you went over to get their orders. "The same as always?" You asked smiling. "Off course, doll" said Axl.

"How are you Y/N?" Asked Duff. He had a cigarette between his fingers and looked at your eyes so intensely that you thought he could see your soul through them. "I'm just fine Duff"

You touched slightly his shoulder before going to get their booze. You told Jack the order and looked back to the table while waiting. As per usual, Duff was looking at you.

It has been like this since the first day, whenever you would leave the table you would look back to the guys and Duff would be looking at you.

You served them their drinks and moved on with your job. About an hour later you passed near the guys' table and heard they whispering shouting "Don't be a pussy!" "I'm not being one!" "Then go and talk to her!".

When they noticed that you were close they stopped and acted as if nothing was happening. You shrugged and went to cover Jack at the bar for a while.

You looked at the boys' table and they were gesticulating and whispering again. Axl seemed annoyed, Slash was gesturing towards the bar, you could read Steven's lips say "Just Go!" And Izzy seemed bored, as per usual.

Suddenly Duff got up and came in your direction. "More beer?" You asked.

"Hmm… yeah." He said while looking to the counter. You grabbed the bottles and started opening them when he spoke again "Y/N?"

"Duff…"

"I was wondering… Would you… Would you like to go out with me on Friday?" He was still avoiding your eyes.

"I would love to, Duff"

Hearing that he looked up with a bright smile. "Cool".

"How about we meet here at 7pm?"

"Sounds like a plan to me"

He smiled at you again before grabbing the beers and leaving.

----

For the rest of that night you couldn't stop smiling. It was Friday now. You had changed shifts with a friend so you could go out with Duff.

You were finishing your makeup. You applied one more layer of mascara and looked at you in the mirror. You wore a simple green dress with your white sneakers and a light makeup. You smiled to yourself and thought "I hope I'm dressed properly".

You grabbed your bag and walked down the few blocks between your apartment and the bar.

Once you got there, Duff was waiting for you outside, he was smoking a cigarette. You took your time to admire him before he could notice you.

He was wearing his famous leather pants, along with a t-shirt and his denim jacket. He noticed you and smiled, tossing his cigarette out.

"Hey. You look gorgeous!" He said as you two hugged. "Thank you, you don't look so bad yourself"

"Let's go?" He asked. You nodded and he hold your hand for the next few blocks to a small and cozy restaurant.

You guys found a table, ordered, and spent the next couple of hours talking about your childhood stories and what you wanted to do in the future. Duff told you about when he lived in Seattle and some stories of his family and you told him about how you moved from San Francisco to try to become an Actress.

You two didn't even realize the time passing by. It was as if time had stopped and just the two of you existed.

You just noticed how late it was because when you came back from the bathroom you noticed that you were the only people remaining there. "I think we should go.." you said "Oh, yeah! Off course."

Duff insisted on walking you to your apartment, and gave you his jacket. You two walked hand in hand, while Duff told you stories of when the band went to Seattle to do a tour.

"Well.. we're here" You said stopping. You knew it was late, but you didn't really want to say goodbye.

"So…" he started. "Do you think we could do this again some day?"

"Off course, Duff"

He smiled down at you and stepped closer. With his hand he put a lock of your hair behind your ear.

He looked you in the eyes, and then looked at your lips then back at your eyes.

He leaned down and his lips touched yours ever so gently that if you didn't know him, you wouldn't think he was in a dangerous rock band.

You two pulled apart after a few seconds and you smiled at him.

"Good night Y/N" he said smiling.

"Good night Duff".

#harley writes #duff x reader #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan imagine #guns n roses #duff mckagan fluff #gnr #gnr imagine #80s #classic rock imagine #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic #duff mckagan

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gayenerd · 4 years ago

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Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie

by Tom Lanham

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not).

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids.

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true.

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake.

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!"

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers.

* * *

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not?

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time.

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves.

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job.

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living.

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead.

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right?

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly.

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs.

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so...

TC: Sickening!

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too?

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10?

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music.

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls.

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]?

MD: At work, doing their own thing.

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her.

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school.

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable.

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs.

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky.

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food.

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen.

Why name your disc Dookie?

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer."

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine.

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"?

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland!

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night.

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie?

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you.

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label.

Is Green Day angry?

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry.

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible.

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently?

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie?

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building!

* * *

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract.

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set.

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude.

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura.

* * *

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless.

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed.

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids?

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want.

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways?

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything.

=Was this something you went through personally?

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything.

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show.

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week!

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move?

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

=I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you...

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

=OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction...

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?"

=And you let just anybody touch it?

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced.

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut.

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89.

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones.

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it.

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too?

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time.

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"?

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!"

=As they say, you can never go home again.

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?"

=And if that teacher could see you now!

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself.

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own?

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give.

* * *

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

#article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

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singledarkshade · 4 years ago

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Magical Mix Up

Chapter Nine (Chapter Eight can be found here) Cisco walked back onto the bridge after getting a drink to find Sara, Zari and Jax just outside the parlour looking guilty while Gideon was glaring at them.

“What did I miss?”

“It turns out that we kidnapped the wrong guy,” Jax winced, “And he’s now on his own, lost in the past.”

Cisco grimaced, “Okay. What’s the plan?”

Sara winced, “John went out to find who we thought was Rip but he hasn’t come back and isn’t answering any of our calls. Can you see or sense anything?”

Grimacing Cisco shrugged, “Vibing doesn’t exactly work like that but if you have something that belongs to Constantine that will help me try to make a connection.”

Zari walked into the parlour and picked up a book sitting on the desk, “This is John’s.”

Cisco took a hold gingerly, he really hated this part of his powers, the world around him changed to a dirt floor, and concave walls that went up to the hole in the ceiling and nothing else. Letting go of the book the Waverider’s bridge appeared around him once more.

“He’s in a prison,” Cisco explained, rubbing his eyes to refocus, “It looks like it’s underground and there’s no way out.”

Sara frowned, “Alright, we need to rescue him then we go looking for Rip’s double. I still lead the team, Gideon,” she added before Gideon could make any comment.

“If you had allowed me to speak,” Gideon stated, moving to the main screen, “I was going to advise that his communicator’s last known location is here. It is likely it was knocked out at some point. Not far from here is the prison building which will be guarded, not as heavily as during the day but still dangerous.”

Studying the map, Sara nodded, “Alright, Zari and Jax come with me. Gideon and Cisco try to work out how we find Rip’s double.” At Gideon’s dark look, Sara quickly said, “Please.”

“Of course, Miss Lance,” Gideon replied lightly, “Please all be careful, we do not want to rescue any more of you from the cells.”

Jax frowned, “What about the Time Couriers? Can’t you fix them so we can just grab him out of there?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Gideon told him, “One of the components of the couriers were all so damaged within the crash that a new part will require to be synthesised which will take more time than we have.”

Zari sighed, “Well that’s just typical.”

“Suit up and meet in the cargo bay ten minutes,” Sara ordered.

“Ensure you all have your communicators,” Gideon added, “So that I can locate you if required.”

They nodded and left the bridge. Gideon moved to the main console and rested her hand on it for a moment before she turned to Cisco.

“The Time Sphere is still sitting outside,” she noted, “I think it would be a good idea if you took it back to Star Labs.”

Cisco frowned, “Are you sure?”

“I am,” she smiled at him sweetly, “Thank you for all you have done for me, Mr Ramon. I appreciate it enormously. Once everyone is safely onboard again, I will return and allow Dr Snow finish her tests.”

“Make sure you do,” Cisco replied, “Or she will make me hunt you down.”

Laughing Gideon wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I promise.”

Gideon smiled as she watched the Time Sphere return to Star Labs, relieved when the Waverider confirmed it had landed safely back where it had started. That was one thing less she had to worry about. She hoped that the man who the Legends had abducted would accept their help once they admitted they were wrong. But she began the crystal synthesis just in case he did not, as her only other idea was to use the Time Courier and open a portal close to him.

Taking a seat to watch over the three members of the crew out searching for their fourth, she wished that this had provided some way to locate Rip and wondered why John’s spell found the wrong man.

Once they retrieved him then she would discuss it properly with John and perhaps together they could find a way to locate Rip. As Sara and the others neared the prison, Gideon frowned as she realised something was happening and the team were in danger.

“Miss Lance,” she called.

“We’re busy, Gideon,” Sara snapped back before cutting the comms.

Before she could reply a strange sensation filled her, something was entering her ship and an odd wheezing noise filled the room. Gideon stared as a blue box, an old English Police Box, appeared on the bridge. There was something telling her it was safe, but Gideon had spent enough time with her Captain and knew to always be prepared for things to go wrong. She armed herself and waited.

The door for the box opened and relief filled Gideon to see John walk out, a little dirty but in one piece.

“Mr Constantine,” she smiled in relief replacing the weapon, “What happened?”

He shrugged, “Well, our former guest is not Rip but he has a few interesting friends of his own.”

“I can tell,” Gideon stared at the box, “So, you found him?”

John laughed, “He found me. And someone else.”

As John moved to one side, Gideon stared at the man who stepped out next. His hair was the right colour, he had a beard, the small scar above his right eyebrow was there and the smile on his face confirmed his identity.

“Rip,” she breathed in astonishment.

Gideon had no chance to ask anything as Rip closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. Gideon held onto him tightly, her face buried against his shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I feared I had lost you forever, my dearest Captain,” Gideon whispered.

Rip’s arms tightened around her, “I thought so too.”

Pulling back, she wiped her eyes, “I need to call back the team now that Mr Constantine is here.”

“They’re actually in trouble because of us,” the man the team had thought was Rip said as he stepped forward.

“Mr Williams, I presume,” Gideon stepped forward, “I apologise for what happened. If I had been here, I would have known instantly.”

“It’s Rory,” he told her, “And Rip assured me of that too,” he turned motioning to the redheaded woman who joined him and a tall thin man in tweed who walked out the box, “This is Amy, my wife and the Doctor…”

“A Time Lord,” Gideon smiled, “Of course, only a TARDIS could slide past my defences so easily.”

The Doctor gave her a wink, but Rory spoke again before he could say anything.

“The problems the other members of your team have are because we rescued Constantine from the Tullianum,” Rory explained.

Gideon turned to Rip who shrugged, “We did it the quietest way we could.”

“Of course, Captain,” she frowned, “I would suggest using the Time Couriers but the energy wave that caused the time jump, then crash fractured the crystals and they are not working.”

Rip smiled, “Luckily, I have one that works and, since the communicators can accurately find the team, we should be able to use it to get to them.”

Gideon shook her head at how flippant he was being but said nothing.

“Doctor,” Rip turned to where the man was leaning against the door of his box, “The Time Couriers aren’t designed to open more than one portal at a time, can you help with that?”

The Doctor smiled, “I think I should be able to do that. Gideon, I’ll need a place to connect the TARDIS to the Waverider.”

She opened the main panel on the central console, “This should be adequate.”

“Perfect,” the Doctor replied, he took the Courier Rip handed him and connected it to the Waverider before disappearing into the TARDIS and pulling out a long wire. He connected it to the console, “Amy, I need you to keep an eye on the power on…”

“Here,” Gideon moved Amy to the navigator’s chair.

Rip nodded, “Alright. John, pull Zari back through. Rory, take Jax while I get Sara. Gideon, the moment we have them back on board, we should leave. Take us into the time stream. There are some things we should clear up before taking the ship back to where the rest of the crew are.”

Gideon smiled at him, “Of course, Captain Hunter.”

*********************************************

Sara should have known the rescue attempt for John was going to go south, the way the rest of the day had gone this was just the perfect ending. As she, Jax and Zari headed to the prison building, all of a sudden there was a loud bang and a crash then a lot of yelling.

Then the guards appeared, tall, in burnished armour and all brandishing swords.

“Maybe they’ll ignore us,” Jax murmured hopefully.

Sara nodded and continued to walk forward slowly.

“Miss Lance,” Gideon’s voice came suddenly.

“We’re busy, Gideon,” Sara snapped back before cutting the comms., defending herself from the others, “We don’t have time to discuss what we’re doing.”

Sara stalled as she suddenly found a sword pointed at her by a man in a guard’s uniform.

“Sir,” the man said, “We have more intruders.”

“Oh no,” Zari mused, her hand going to her totem, “This day just keeps getting better.”

Sara made a decision, “Get back to the ship. Now.”

They turned to leave and found they were surrounded.

“We’re in trouble,” Jax winced.

Before Sara could answer they were attacked, ducking away she dodged the man swinging a sword at her. She spotted Jax and Zari doing the same, but none of them were able to get a weapon to protect themselves.

She heard a noise behind her and spotted a portal open near Jax then a hand grabbed his arm yanking him through it. Stunned Sara didn’t get a chance to struggle when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards. The portal closed and she found herself on the Waverider.

“All onboard,” Gideon’s voice came, “Everyone hold on.”

Sara grabbed the closest chair as the Waverider lifted off the ground and flew into the air. She saw the sky change to stars and soon they were orbiting the planet.

“Everyone, please take a seat in order for us to enter the time stream,” Gideon stated.

Sliding into the seat Sara had no time to look around as the moment she pulled the restraint down Gideon started the ship once more.

The ship sat in the time stream and Sara released herself determined to know what the hell was going on. Standing she turned and her voice stalled as she came face to face with a blue box, a redhead who was glaring at her, a strange man with floppy brown hair wearing a tweed jacket and a red bowtie, John covered in dirt and two versions of what looked to be Rip wearing a roman guard uniform. One with a beard and one without.

“Rip?” she demanded.

“This time, yes,” Rip replied sharply.

Jax and Zari winced while Sara folded her arms across her chest, “How did you get here?”

“Luckily Rory,” Rip said motioning to his double, “Who you owe a huge apology to, has a Time Lord for a friend.”

Jax frowned, “What the hell is a Time Lord?”

“That would be me,” the man in tweed and a bowtie spoke up, “I’m the Doctor. Just be very glad Rory’s daughter isn’t with us. She is very protective of her father and likes to shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Are we going anywhere soon?” John spoke up before anyone else could say anything.

“Not until everything is sorted, Mr Constantine,” Gideon replied, moving from the pilot’s chair to Rip’s side.

He sighed, “Then I’m going for a shower.”

“Report to the medical bay after,” Gideon ordered, “I want to ensure your stay in the prison has not caused any harm.”

“Not to mention the knock on your head,” Rip added.

John glared at the other man before he headed off the bridge, murmuring, “Traitor.”

Sara waited until he’d left before turning to the two almost identical men, “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I think you’re the one who needs to explain some things,” the redhead snapped, “Like kidnapping.”

The Doctor caught the redhead’s arm, “Amy.”

Tossing her hair, Amy allowed the man to move her back to the blue box and stood glaring at Sara.

“John’s spell was to locate Rip,” Sara defended herself, “We found…”

“Rory,” Amy stated coldly when Sara hesitated.

“We found Rory where John’s spell guided us to,” Sara continued, “And look at him. We had no reason to believe he wasn’t Rip.”

“Except I told you constantly,” Rory snapped, anger in his eyes as he stepped forward his hand going for his sword.

The Doctor appeared at his side and rested his hand on Rory’s arm, “How about we take a small break from this discussion so everyone can get checked out and changed?”

“A good idea,” Gideon stated, “We can reconvene in the kitchen in an hour.”

Sara frowned walking off the bridge, Jax and Zari not far behind her. Rory, Amy and the Doctor walked into the TARDIS and closed the door.

Leaving Rip and Gideon alone.

#fic #crossover #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #john constantine #sara lance #jefferson 'jax' jackson #zari tomaz #doctor who #rory williams #amy pond #eleventh doctor #the flash #cisco ramon

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chemiste · 5 years ago

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Foresight ~ ch. 1

A/N : hey y’all, this is the very first chapter! please let me know what you think of it, feedback is greatly appreciated :) love Anna

You were so fucking excited for the concert.

Maggie and you had been saving up for a trip to Europe during spring break and were floored to get to go. It also helped that her father had been kind enough to take you girls with him on his company jet since he had a meeting in Germany (CEO of one of the biggest companies had its perks).

After Maggie and you had parted ways with him, you both spent a few days traveling around Darmstadt when Maggie got a call from her father saying one of his colleagues had gotten concert tickets to a show in Basel for his daughter’s birthday but she wasn’t going to be able to make it and gave them to him for Mags instead.

“Ya dad, what’s up?—no way really? Of course we’ll go! Okay, tell him thank you for us!”

“You got concert tickets.” You stated, after taking a sip of your lemonade you bought from the small German woman that had been selling them at the farmer’s market you both stumbled across.

Maggie rolled her eyes at you, “I can never surprise you can I?!” You laughed, “Sorry! It’s not like I can help it.” “I know, you’ve got your super psychic abilities that unables me to throw you a surprise birthday party!” She exclaimed, then blew a raspberry as if to prove her disappointment.

You were psychic, sort of. Your parents first noticed it when you would say the delivery line of a joke in sync with the late show host of whatever was playing on the TV.

At first, they thought you must have heard it beforehand but then it just kept happening during things they knew were new airings. You also were never surprised, ever. Which probably was a bit of a bummer but it’s not like you knew any different. The moment they knew you had some sort of ability was during your middle school’s raffle at a spirit week fundraiser.

They both watched in awe as you recited the 8 number combination of the winning ticket before it had been drawn.

After that significant event, they took you to a doctor who referred you to a colleague that dealt with psychological abilities. They were the ones to inform your parents you basically just knew things before others could. It couldn’t be classified till you got older and even if you did more tests, it wouldn’t do anything so you’re parents just decided to leave it at that.

You weren’t conscious of yourself doing it when you were young but as you got older, you could catch yourself thinking about something like it’s going to rain in 8 minutes and 36 seconds or I feel really bad that the little girl just dropped her ice-cream just seconds before it happened.

Well, it was a great party trick to use at uni shindigs.

Maggie smiled as a notification popped up on her phone. “Dad just sent over the concert tickets, let's go to the train station and see if we can get a ride straight to Basel.”

Fortunately, you both had your suitcases with you since you were originally going further down the road to France and then Switzerland, but oh well, you could just reroute. Both you and Maggie were buzzed to be able to go see a concert on your trip and didn’t hesitate to change your plans.

It was easy to find the station and after a bit of horrible German from Maggie to the ticket booth woman, you both had boarding tickets to Basel.

“I’m really excited to see Harry Styles, the new album is really good.” You said as you both settled into a train booth and hoisted the suitcases to the overhead compartment.

“I never told you— oh never mind, yeah I’m pumped! These tickets are for the floor so you bet your ass we’re squishing our way to the front. I’m too damn short to be anywhere else!” You chuckled at her statement.

You started humming the melody of a song that had been stuck in your head all afternoon and scrolled through some pictures on your phone and decided to post something on Instagram.

The ride was uneventful, plus a great time to book a room on Airbnb and catch a small nap before the concert that night. Maggie and you took a cab from the train station to the lovely home you were spending the night in, or rather the spare guest home that was in the backyard.

It was a fantastic find since most motels had been already booked for other spring breakers, apparently, the couple that was supposed to stay that night had to cut their trip short cause the man’s sister was going into labor in London.

Well, that’s what the elderly lady—Martha call me Martha— said as she took you girls to the back house.

While Mags rummaged through her clothes looking for something to wear, you very graciously flopped onto the king bed that was pressed to the back wall.

Her head popped up from the other side of the case, “What are you gonna wear Y/N?” She stood up with a sequin pink top stretched out between her to hands to examine it, “I’m thinking this sparkle top thing I shoved in my bag last minute and my black denim skirt.”

You let out a whine and sat up, “Yeah that will look nice, I’m thinking I’ll wear my Ramones t-shirt and some high waisted blue jeans—ya know the ones that make my ass look fantastic?”

Your bubbly brunette friend nodded her head excitedly at you and then suggested getting a quick bite to eat before the show. “We’ve got several hours to kill before.” After you got dinner, you headed down the street to a small bakery that you snapped a photo of to post later and got some goodies to snack on.

Maggie moaned as she chewed her Mandelgipfel, and you unwrapped one of the Biberlis you purchased. On the walk back, you thought about the setlist (which you had conveniently pulled up on your phone to see what you’d be watching).

“I’m really excited to hear Carolina, he sings like he’s sex on legs during that song.” She told you as she threw her napkin into the bin as she walked by.

You threw your head back and laughed, Maggie could sure be blunt sometimes, you thought to yourself.

Once back at the AirBnB, it was a bit of a mad dash to get ready. You did your favorite makeup and a good hairdo that would last threw all the headbanger songs. Mags went with space buns and bright pink eyeshadow to “match her sparkle shirt of course!”

Before you knew it, the pair of you took a cab to the concert center and were into the venue without a hassle.

“Excuse me! So sorry, trying to get through!” Maggie demanded as she pushed through the crowd, her 4th beer in one hand and yours in the other, having a pushy small friend has its perks. Somehow, you don’t really know how (too busy trying to make sure your vodka didn’t spill) she managed to get you both to the very front of the stage.

People in black were on various parts of the stage, clipboards in hand. Some had walkie talkies and would speak into them every so often, you wondered how they could hear a response with such a loud crowd.

Maggie and you finished your drinks and put them into the bin over the barrier that was thankfully just an arms reach away. A few minutes later, the lights went dark and everyone started to cheer. Mags leaned over to you, “I think Mabel is coming on!”

The songs Mabel played were fun and the pair of y’all bounced to the beat of God Is A Dancer, the girl bowed and finally the rubric cube showed above on the large screen.

Screams filled the arena, you hollered while your friend jumped up screaming like a preteen.

And then there he was.

Only Angel was fantastic, and Harry looked amazing. He was decked out in a black sequin jacket and pants that shined with every minuscule movement the man made. It was jaw-dropping, to say the least.

After you jammed to Woman, snapped a picture during Ever Since New York, and rocked with Maggie to Two Ghosts, he took a pause to speak with the crowd.

“‘ello! ’m Harry Styles, nice to meet you.” The crowd erupted in cheers. “It’s lov’ly to see all your beautiful faces t’night, ‘m so glad you could make it t’ the show!”

“This next song is one of my favorites to perform, this is Carolina.”

Maggie nearly had a heart attack when he said the first syllable, and you were having a blast as well. Also good to note that yes, Maggie was right, he does look like walking sex when he performs that song (but I mean, when does he not).

You were mesmerized by the way he owned the stage, like it was his lover. You closed your eyes and rolled your body to the beat.

As the song ended, Harry seemed a little jittery which intrigued you, just a moment ago he seemed so confident. Maybe it’s because he’s nervous to perform his new songs.

Wait, what?

“— and uh, we’ve never play this before, this is a new one, this one’s called Medicine.” Maggie and you looked at each other with wide eyes and screamed with the crowd as well, the vodka was starting to kick in and your mind was floating in bliss.

Here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Treat you like a gentleman

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

Think I'm gonna stick with you

Here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Rest it on your fingertips

Up to your mouth, feeling it out

Feeling it out

You were singing along with the song having a grand o’l time of it, what you didn’t realize is that Maggie was standing next to you, staring at you with the pikachu surprise face.

She grabbed your shoulder, “You know the lyrics?!” You looked at her with a mild expression, “ya? Don’t you? It’s what I was humming on the train.”

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted

And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you—

“—TASTED!” You yelled up during the pause. Immediately you knew something was up when Harry’s head snapped over to look right at you. You were the only one to scream that to him. “Oh, fuck! Nobody else knows this do they?!”

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got the salt and I got me an appetite; now I can taste it

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy

La la la la la

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh

You said to Maggie as people around you gave you a funny side-eye. She shook her head and laughed. “It’s no fair that you were jamming to this hours before I was!” It’s whatever, just enjoy the show Y/N!

Tingle running through my blood, fingers to my toes

Tingle running through my bones

The boys and the girls are here

I mess 'round a bit

And I'm okay with it

The boys and girls are here

I'm messing 'round with them

And I'm okay with it

As you went back to dancing, your fuzzy state of mind didn’t seem to register that a certain singer was watching you as you sang every lyric with him.

Oh god, there must have been a leak somewhere, Harry thought as he finished the chorus.

I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it

And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you—

“—Ride it!” You yelled out subconsciously. Fuck I did it again! You thought.

Harry couldn’t believe it, there you were, in the front row acting like nothing was strange about you yelling out lyrics he had purposely not sung. He kept going and let his eyes skitter around the crowd of people close to you.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got the salt and I got me an appetite; now I can taste it

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh

La la la la la

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh

They seem just as confused as I do, so luckily, maybe it’s a fresh leak that can be fixed quickly. God, I’m going to have to get a new laptop aren’t I? How are people so damn good at hacking, Harry thought.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted

The rockstar shook his head and waved his hands during the ending of the lyrics. The lights went out and he took a deep breath. It’ll be fine.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got the salt and I got me an appetite; now I can taste it

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh

La la la la la

You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh

The song ended and the concert attendees roared with praise of hearing a “supposedly” unreleased song. Maggie pulled you down into a crouch as she saw the singer looking with hawk eyes over the area they stood.

“Y/N, He totally heard you! And I don’t think he’s too happy about it.” You both slowly stood up to see him walking over to Mitch, his guitarist and whisper something in his ear. The man in question looked over to where you were and it made you die a tiny bit inside.

Oh god, I really hope I’m not in trouble.

Surprisingly, you hadn’t ever gotten into a bad situation because of your psychic abilities, it always helped most of the time, like when you were able to stop your friend from running around a corner of a building, not knowing a bicyclist was racing down it; Saved her and the cyclist from a bad crash.

Now, feeling the eyes of multiple, very important people, made you think this was revenge for all the times you did a good deed. Ugh, I thought karma was supposed to reward good deeds! Not punish them!

Everything seemed to return to normal as Harry started Meet Me In The Hallway, then chatting with a couple fans, sang Sweet Creature, a lucky catch of a lavender bra which he quickly threw back out, and then If I Could Fly, everything was fine and dandy.

Till he announced the next song.

“This song is called Anna, and it’s new. 1,2,3,4!”

As the intro played, Harry kept an eye on you. There was no way you could know this one, they had never recorded it in the studio, only practice. If you did, oh god he didn’t even want to think about it.

Don't know where you're laying, just know it's not with me

Don't know what I'd tell you if I passed you on the street

Okay, it seems fine right now, she’s not singing along, just dancing with her friend as she said something to her. He continued.

I don't want your sympathy

But you don't know what you do to me

Oh, Anna

Fuck. There you were, pretending to have an invisible mic in your hand and belting out the lyrics. He watched for a moment as your brown-haired friend grabbed you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ nodded her head up to him. Wait, did you look surprised that you were singing along too?

Every time I see your face

There's only so much I can take

Oh, Anna

“Oh my god I did it again Maggie! He’s gonna call security isn’t he, and then I’ll be taken down to the station and locked away because he’s rich and famous and I’ll never see the light of day again!” You cried.

Don't know how you taste when there's smoke in your perfume

So chew me up and spit me out, nothing left to lose

I don't want your sympathy

But you don't know what you do to me

Oh, Anna

Every time I see your face

There's only so much I can take

Oh, Anna

Mags took hold of your chin and pulled you down to her face, “It’s alright, we’ll figure it out Y/N, plus they might just check online to see if someone had put up a recording beforehand that they didn’t know about and they’ll just think you’re a crazy dedicated fan. I really don’t think Harry Styles is going to lock you up for knowing his songs.”

You let out a large breath and nodded at her. You purposely kept your mouth shut during the next chorus, not wanting his eyes on you for a bad reason again.

I don't want your sympathy

But you don't know what you do to me

Oh, Anna

Every time I see your face

There's only so much I can take

Oh, Anna

Hope you never hear this and know that it's for you

I don't know what I'd tell you if you asked me for the truth

I don't want your sympathy

But you’ll never know what you do to me

Oh, Anna

Every time I see your face

There's only so much I can take

Oh, Anna

Some guy behind you pushed forward, causing you to squish into the barrier. It distracted you enough that when you looked up, Harry Styles and you were having a little duet.

Well I guess it would be nice

If I could touch your body

That’s it, how the FUCK does she know that part? Harry and the band had only decided to add it to the song yesterday for a fun spin-off of a classic. He was starting to freak out inside but oddly enough, it looked like she was too.

I don't want your sympathy

But you’ll never know what you do to me

Oh, Anna

Every time I see your face

There's only so much I can take

Oh, Anna

The song ended and you whipped around to face the crowd rather than him, back still pressed to the barrier. “Maggie I’m so screwed.” She put her hand on your shoulder and whispered to you, “Are there any more surprise songs?”

You shook your head, “The setlist is altered a bit but that’s it. Wait, why do I know that?!”

You leaned your head back and looked to the ceiling, “Maggie, my psychic-ness isn’t usually this strong? I guess is the word?"—you looked at her—“why is it so easy to just know this stuff because of him?”

The space bunned brunette only shrugged. “Let's just enjoy the rest of the show, ‘kay?” You nodded and turned back around only to be met with an intense stare from the man on stage, but the stare wasn’t mad—more a confused look, which surprised you.

The rest of the show went very well. Maggie nearly burst into tears when she heard his rendition of TWMYB and then Sign Of The Times. His encore was phenomenal and you sang your head off to The Chain and rocked your socks off to Kiwi.

“Thank you eve’yone!” Was the last thing shouted out by the singer as he left the stage, but not without sparing you one last glance.

“Let’s try and get out of here as fast as possible.” Maggie agreed and hand in hand you weaved your way through the crowd.

Just as you thought you made it home free, a security guard stopped you.

“Ma’am, if you would please follow me. You’re needed backstage.”

Your stomach dropped, oh no.

telephone hour for this chapter

ch.2

let me know what you think!

~ Jess

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader series #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles concert #harry styles tour #hs #h.s. x reader #h.s.#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles medicine

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universe-n-3276 · 4 years ago

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Carrying the Moon

Chapter 11

“Hiii! We're back! "

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Alice picked Hero up from the stroller and went straight to Robbe. The final exams were approaching and both boys were spending most of their time studying at home or university. Sander was often in his atelier at the Academie to finish up his projects, so Hero spent his time with his grandparents or with the babysitter. That day, Alice had offered to take him for a walk in the park, while Robbe had stayed home on the books.

"Hi!"

"What’s smelling so good?"

“Hey, little bean! I missed you so much!"

Robbe took Hero in his arms and kissed his cheek. He felt so guilty because he couldn't take care of him these days and it was the same for Sander, but they both knew they were doing this for him and their family. Graduating with good grades would have guaranteed a better future for all of them. Besides, it was almost summer, and they would have much more time to spend together.

"I'm making lasagna. Do you wanna join us for dinner?"

"I’d love to, but I have a work dinner tonight."

"Next time. then."

"Sure."

Alice smiled, watching Robbe sit down with Hero on his lap and start taking off the small Ramones sweatshirt he was wearing. In such a short time, the boy she had seen grow up, had turned into a loving man and father. It seemed to come naturally to him, as if he had been predestined to be the father of that child, just like Sander.

"You're such a good dad."

"Thanks but I'm still learning. Sometimes it seems like I'm doing all wrong."

"That’s normal when you have kids, sweetheart. And you're still so young! When I had the twins, I was way older than you, and it was something I planned with my ex-husband for so long. Still, life likes surprises and ended up giving us two babies instead of just one. And I felt exactly like you."

"Sander is my favorite person in the world, so, to me, you did a pretty good job with him."

“Thanks! I'm so proud of him, he turned out to be such a wonderful human being. Both of my children are."

The boy couldn’t hold back the annoyed expression that was painted on his face. In the month everyone had begged Charlotte to try to be a mother, Sander and Robbe had talked a lot about how her behavior was extremely wrong and deplorable in their eyes. Not because she didn't want to be a parent, but because of the way she was acting toward that poor child. She refused to look at him, to touch him, or hold him. Then Hero had become their son and the feeling they felt towards the girl had strengthened, because after all, that torture had been inflicted on the person they both loved so much. Alice noticed Robbe's expression and smiled because it was not difficult to put herself in his shoes, she was also a mother after all.

"I know you think Charlotte did something awful to Hero, but I'm proud of her because she dared to take a step back, and stand up for herself."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, I was scared of being a parent at 23, but now I couldn’t imagine my life being any different. Hero and Sander are my everything."

"You guys are such a nice little family, and thanks to you and Sander, I have the chance to be a grandmother to my little Hero here."

When the sound of the keys turning in the lock reached the kitchen, Hero clapped his hands happily, already knowing that this was the signal that heralded his papa’s arrival.

"I'm home!"

“Hi, baby! We're in the kitchen!"

“Hi, ma! Thanks for taking care of Hero today."

"Don't mention it, honey. I'm happy to help. Now I have to go, see you next time."

They all greeted Alice, and as soon as they were alone, Sander ruffled Hero's hair, then kissed Robbe softly, and he finally felt at home. Calmer, more relaxed, more himself, wrapped in the love that was so vivid between those walls. He couldn’t help but smile while his lips were still pressed to his boyfriend’s.

"Hi."

"I made lasagna!"

"Now I'm scared."

At that comment, Robbe playfully pushed Sander away, and looking him in the eye, he mouthed an unmistakable "fuck off", making Sander laugh out loud, but also Hero, who was always amused to see his parents bicker in that way.

During an evening, when all of them miraculously managed to take a break from studying, Sander and Robbe invited Jens and Lucas over for dinner.

That small meeting was supposed to be held in their friends' apartment, but Hero and his energy took up the space of ten elephants, so they opted to stay at their home.

At that moment, Hero was sitting on Lucas's lap, watching, completely captured, the people around him.

"I've been waiting for the moment when he will call me uncle since he was born."

Everyone laughed and Jens looked at his boyfriend with so much love in his eyes, that Robbe was sure, if they weren't both still busy with college, he would have asked Lucas to marry him long ago.

"When are you giving me another nephew, though?"

Robbe frowned as if Lucas had suddenly grown another head and Sander laughed, taking another sip of the only beer he had decided to drink that evening.

"At this point, if we were straight, I’d tell you that we’re using protection again, but that’s not quite the case."

"So you got tested?"

"No."

They answered in unison. Sander still was calm, Robbe was already completely embarrassed. He didn't understand why Lucas wanted to go through that topic. The wine he was drinking was probably already starting to kick in, destroying his brain-mouth filter.

"What? Why?"

"I hadn't sex with anyone while we were separated."

"I wasn't talking about you."

Robbe was trying so hard not to get involved into that conversation and he was throwing awkward looks at Jens, begging him to find a way to change the subject, but when the room became silent and he saw everyone's eyes on him, he understood that he had been called into question.

"Ow. Sander is still my first and only."

"What? He must be really good if you didn’t feel the need to be with anyone else. Even just out of curiosity. I mean, in my experience the Driesens are pretty passionate lovers, so I get that."

“Lucas, I love you, but just shut up. That big mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these days."

"That’s exactly what you told me last night when I was giving you-"

"Oh, my."

Jens buried in his face in his hands, continuing to mutter incomprehensible words, while Lucas had a Cheshire cat grin on his face and was stroking his boyfriend’s. Then the conversation somehow shifted back to less embarrassing topics, as Sander got up and went to get their takeout at the door.

"Did he already called you dad?"

Robbe shook his head. That was a very sensitive subject for him. Two months had passed, and despite Hero already calling Sander papa and Alice oma, he seemed unwilling to call Robbe dad. This had started an endless series of thoughts on how Hero would never see him as a parent, and often he and Sander had ended up arguing, because, after all, it was Sander’s fault, if they had broken up.

Sander, who was holding three bags in his hands, had picked up the conversation. The way his boyfriend reacted made him feel bad, but he was convinced that Hero would say that magical word in a few days, also because, whenever Robbe wasn’t around, he tried to make Hero repeat that word until they were both exhausted. He walked over to Robbe and pressed a kiss on his temple, before setting the containers with the food on the table and going to sit next to Lucas.

"It will happen soon, don't get down on yourself."

Sander was immensely grateful for Jens' words and was Robbe too because smiled at him. Hero, who was still sitting on Lucas's lap, caught Sander's gaze and called his name to make sure he had his attention, then pointed his little grabby hands in Robbe's direction, causing an endless series of “aaaaaw”.

“You haven't seen me for a week and you want to go with your dad? Thanks, I'll remember it, when you’ll ask me to drink together your first beer!"

At Lucas' huffy comment, everyone burst out laughing and Robbe walked over to pick up Hero, leaving him a kiss on his head. The baby’s gesture only served to confirm Sander's theory. He just needed to say that word, to complete the puzzle.

"You are his favorite!"

Jens said, turning to his best friend.

“Hey, did you really have doubts about it? He has my genes after all."

After dinner, Hero fell asleep in Sander's arms, who promptly carried him to bed, and the conversation became more intimate and serious.

"What will you do if Charlotte wanted to get Hero back?"

At Jens's question, Sander stiffened and clenched his jaw. That was something he had struggled since he decided to become a father, both because he couldn't forgive his sister for how she treated Hero and because the twins hadn't spoken to each other for nearly a year now, and it had never happened before.

“My mother is Hero's legal guardian because here in Belgium you have to be at least 25 to adopt. I will use this year to find a job so that I can officially adopt him and Charlotte won’t be able to do anything about it. If she comes back sooner, I won't let her take him away. Robbe and I raised him. We are his parents. She is nothing to him."

His words were harsh, sharp, and angry. Robbe knew that Sander would fight hard to keep Hero with them. They had already talked about it before, but the tone never changed. Always so raw and emotional. Robbe put a hand on his boyfriend's back, starting to draw circles with it, to try to calm him down.

They had agreed, that once they were married, Robbe would legally adopt Hero, but also about the fact that everything should evolve naturally in that direction, without the need to push things due to bureaucratic issues. It was enough for Sander that Robbe felt as emotionally attached to Hero as any parent. He didn't need documents to prove it.

"However, she doesn't seem willing to do anything like that, or to get back to this side of the world."

"As if she had never done anything impulsive."

Sander knew that Lucas and Charlotte were still in contact and that nothing could break their bond. It didn't seem right that his best friend wasn't taking his side, also because he knew very well that he had loved Hero from day one. Maybe Lucas was good at not messing with his feelings and emotions. Or maybe he had simply learned to manage those things.

"The anger you’re feeling has made you forget that wanting to give Hero up for adoption was the only selfish thing your sister made during her life. She would never take him away from you. Trust me."

And perhaps Lucas was right, yet his words couldn’t erase the weird feeling that Sander was experiencing in his stomach for months

[previous] / [next]

#wtfock #wtfam #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #robbe x sander #rosander #drijzermans #sobbe #sobbe fanfic #wtfock fanfic #vds #van der stoffels #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #carrying the moon #chapter 11

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rawiswhore · 4 years ago

Text

Shawn Michaels, Jeff Hardy, Rob Van Dam, Johnny Nitro, Stevie Richards x Fem Reader- “Cycle Slut From Hell”

The WWF's Attitude era was infamous and notorious for beginning to sexually objectify women, but one of the things they surprisingly didn't do during that era was have "schoolgirl matches", where WWE divas dress as slutty, naughty Catholic schoolgirls.

And in 2004, yep, you were involved in that same Catholic schoolgirl battle royale amongst other WWE divas were involved in, dressed in scantily clad schoolgirl outfits.

You were dressed in pigtails, a white crop top that reached below your tits and tied up at your chest and a little plaid miniskirt with white socks that stopped at your knees.

Britney Spears and t.A.t.U. don't have anything on you.

Seeing you in that naughty schoolgirl outfit made males, both grown men and horny underage boys, of course made males salivate.

And not just people watching this in the audience and on television, but some of the men in the WWE as well, be it wrestlers, managers, writers, etc.

Even better, this year, someone wrote a graphic novel that parodies "The X Files" titled "Revenge of the Nymphomaniac", a comic that puts the graphic in "pornographic".

It makes the lyrics to Cardi B and Megan thee Stallion's "WAP" sound like a church song.

One of your personal friends sent you that graphic novel, and there's actually characters in that comic, one character looks like a cross between Stone Cold Steve Austin and Albert from the WWE/F (the same Albert who a decade later Gangnam Style danced in lingerie with Brodus Clay), Razor Ramon and even Brian Pillman and you even showed Stone Cold, Albert and Razor the pages that had these characters that looked like them!

Wonder if the illustrators even based these characters' images on those 3 aforementioned 90's wrestlers?

Wrestlers usually have nicknames that start with "the", Stone Cold known as "The Rattlesnake", Bret Hart is "The Hitman", the Rock is "The Great One" and "The People's Champ", your nickname in the WWE and even when it was called the WWF was "The Nymphomaniac" or "the Nympho".

Since wrestlers have wrestling T-shirts and merchandise for fans to wear (Stone Cold's "Austin 3:16" shirt, The Rock's "Layeth the Smacketh Down", Hulk Hogan's "Hulkamaniac", D Generation X's "We Got Two Words For Ya" and it says "Suck it!" on the back), there's a WWF/E shirt made for you that reads "nymphomania" and it's a yellow top with red letters, parodying Hulk Hogan's "Hulkamania" shirt.

There's a scene in the comic that really sticks out, and seeing you in those pigtails in that schoolgirl match reminded some of the male wrestlers you've fucked of that scene.

Especially an idea that popped in the head of one of these wrestlers, and this wrestler is a notorious horndog whose gimmick was a ladies' man.

Who is he?

No, not Val Venis. Shawn Michaels!

Shawn said to you how seeing you in pigtails reminded him of that scene in that "X Files" parody you introduced him to, and it gave him an idea.

He explained his idea, and you didn't mind it, as long as you didn't completely recreate this certain scenario.

Rob Van Dam was still in the WWE, and that's a good thing, because he's hot.

Shawn is pushing 40 and he's still sexier than ever.

But dammit, Triple H just had to grow facial hair, and Jeff Hardy is in TNA, which is a shame considering Jeff looks hot as hell in TNA.

Although, Triple H is pretty hot with facial hair, but he looks better without it.

At least Triple H in 2004 looks better than Triple H with that Lemmy from Motorhead handlebar moustache in 2006.

However, you did call Jeff and asked him if it would be okay if he spent some freetime with you, you wanted to do something involving him, and he actually agreed.

You actually have thought of inviting some male TNA wrestlers from 2004 to what's planned for tonight, some of them are hot!

John Morrison has also made his debut in the WWE this year, and he's probably one of the few WWE wrestlers in 2004 you think is sexy, he'd get even hotter 2 years later.

Though, in 2004, he was known as Johnny Nitro.

And one wrestler you find sexy that has now finally joined the WWE is Stevie Richards, who you might remember from Right to Censor in the Attitude era (and Blue World Order from ECW).

He's grown his hair out and looks pretty hot.

Sometime after that schoolgirl match involving you, Trish Stratus, Torrie Wilson and even the Fabulous Moolah and Mae Young, you had some free time and invited Shawn, Rob, Jeff, Johnny and Stevie to your personal dressing room.

That way, there won't be any neighbors hearing what's going on next door, especially if this was in a hotel room.

Your hair was tied in two cute, perky pigtails, much like the same pigtails you adorned in the schoolgirl match with Torrie Wilson, Trish Stratus and what have you.

These men you invited to your dressing room were dressed in black leather jackets and jeans.

"Hey guys, look!" Johnny exclaimed, pointing at you. "We've got a visitor!".

You told Johnny to say that since you're trying to recreate this scenario with him and a few others.

Jeff has holding the "X Files" parody graphic novel in one hand a few inches to his face, his eyes reading the page that you're going to recreate tonight.

You, on the other hand, had crouched down to the ground, your face buried in his crotch and had pulled down his pants and boxers, your mouth was busy sucking on his cock.

"Is this chick a friend of yours?" Jeff asked, reciting a Brian Pillman lookalike getting his cock blown in the comic. "I hadn't even finished pissing before she was licking the tip and begging me to let her suck it!"

Heh heh heh, suck it, Shawn Michaels thought, thinking that in Butthead from the popular 90's cartoon "Beavis and Butthead"'s voice and reminding him of D Generation X's iconic catchphrase.

I’m sure saying “suck it” made Johnny, Stevie, Jeff and Rob think of DX’s iconic catchphrase too.

Jeff changed the words from "relieving myself" to "pissing" because there's another way people can relieve themselves and it isn't from masturbating!

Jeff then handed the comic to Rob, who, along with Shawn, Johnny and Stevie, were watching you suck on his cock.

Rob took the comic and then flipped to the next page.

You had introduced him to this comic and he knew most of it, especially this scene you're trying to recreate it.

"Never seen her before!" Rob confessed.

"A daddy's girl!" Jeff admitted.

Rob was quoting a man in the comic who looked huge, hulky and burly, like a wrestler, but this man was ugly and Rob is hot.

You have sex with hot guys, not ugly ones.

It would be better if you had just typed all of this and printed it out for these men to say these lines, but whatever.

Since you've introduced Rob, Shawn, Johnny and Stevie to this comic and they have some of it memorized, although Rob was showing this page and pointing to Shawn, Johnny and Stevie what comes next while these 2 looked at this scenario, Shawn, Johnny and Stevie moved their hands to their jeans, where they unbuttoned and unzipped their jeans, their hands sliding down their boxers and pulling their cocks out.

They weren't the only ones doing this, Rob as well unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, where he reached down his boxers and pulled his dick out.

Since you have this comic memorized, especially this scene, you pulled your face away from Jeff's erection, and swarming around you was Jeff, Shawn, Rob, Johnny and Stevie's cocks all pointing and sticking out at you, some of them even had their hands on their shafts.

"Is this what you were looking for, sweetie?" Shawn asked. "Well, you've found it!"

It would've been better if this comic had gotten released in the 90's and you recreated this scenario with D Generation X in late 1998/early 1999, because DX were a gang clad in black leather of a bunch of naughty boys, but for some reason this comic gets published during a year when "The X Files" wasn't really popular and had already been cancelled.

Shawn grabs onto one of your pigtails and lifts you up from the ground, albeit he doesn't pull your hair hard.

"Don' t worry, we're all gonna have some fun!" Shawn exclaimed. "C'mmere slut, let's take a look at the goods!"

Shawn pulled a pocketknife out of one of the pockets of his jeans, where he flicked the knife open and held it to your chest, albeit not hard so he won't cut your throat or anything else.

The knife carefully tore down the top you were wearing, exposing more of your skin as it sunk all the way down the middle to the bottom of your shirt, and you wore no bra under your shirt.

The shirt he tore was a shirt you don't really like, and you're glad he tore that shirt, that's why you wore it!

Though, was it necessary for him to tear one of your shirts? You could've worn the same top you wore to the late 2004 schoolgirl match.

Meanwhile, Jeff pulled down your miniskirt and panties down to your knees, exposing your bare naked pussy.

Shawn placed the pocketknife back in his pocket, shedding your shirt he tore off of your arms.

"A nice peace, huh, guys?" Shawn asked, putting one of his arms behind your shoulders.

"Totally unfresh, totally unspoiled!" Jeff exclaimed, crouching down to your knees.

He crawled between your legs and his tongue began eating out your twat.

In the comic, some ugly guy who says "totally unfresh, totally unclean" eats out this girl's asshole, and you told Jeff not to eat your asshole out since you've made out with him (and want to make out with him in the future) and you don't want his tongue to touch something where even more disgusting bacteria filled waste comes out of that tastes bad.

Jeff isn't too into eating women's assholes either.

Shawn placed one of his hands to the side of your face.

"Y'like having my friend eat your cunt?" Shawn asked.

"Y-yes!" you stuttered and confessed.

Shawn didn't put a knife to your face like the Razor Ramon lookalike did in the comic, and thank goodness.

One of Shawn's other hands moved to your breasts, where his fingers tweaked and twisted your nipples.

"And this?" Shawn asked. "Y'like this too?"

"Aaahhh, yes!!" you moaned and confessed, leaning your head back in ecstacy over how good this feels.

Rob walked over and joined Shawn, where Rob proceeded to tweak the other nipple.

These men would all love to have turns eating your twat out and tweaking your nipples and whatnot, maybe they will!

Jeff's tongue wasn't just roaming and traveling all over your pussy, but licking, flicking and swirling on your sensitive clitoris.

You were quietly moaning little high pitched, gasp-y moans while two men were playing with your nips and another was eating your twat out.

Shawn heard some footsteps walking behind him, those footsteps being Stevie Richards walking up to him.

"Stevie, I think our friend needs warming up!" Shawn exclaimed "You in?"

"Fuck yeah!" Stevie responded.

Stevie carefully grabbed one of your pigtails, where he pulled you into his genitals, Rob and Shawn's hands slipping out of their grasps, no longer playing with your nipples.

"Make like D Generation X and suck it!" Stevie ordered you, "Got it?"

"Y-yes!" you stuttered and answered, where you proceed to suck his cock, letting his erection enter your mouth.

Surprisingly, Stevie didn't do DX's iconic crotch chop while saying "suck it", but that is soooooo 1998 (although, you miss 1998, but I'm sure some of us did in 2004!).

Though, the crotch chop and "suck it" catchphrase that accompanies it should come back, for certain reasons...

D Generation X in general should've come back and actually almost did in 2002, but the powers that be decided not to, although seeing men pushing 40 acting like immature fratboys...

"I wouldn't suck on Stevie's cock!" Johnny shouted. "He hasn't washed it in two weeks!"

"Neither have you!" Stevie barked back, looking at him. "But I'll make an effort...pass me a beer!"

Johnny handed him a can of Coors he lifted from the pack of beer he brought with him to the room, where Stevie took the can, wrapping his fingers around it.

Stevie cracked open the beer, albeit not like Stone Cold, but by putting his finger in between the tab and pulling it open.

He tipped the can and poured it over his erection, letting the beer drench his shaft.

He poured the can up and down his shaft, some of the beer dripping onto the floor and on your face.

The beer tasted disgusting and nasty, beer in general tastes bitter and stale, why does Stone Cold chug this stuff down?

Oh yeah, his character (that was his idea and made him famous).

Speaking of Stone Cold, wouldn't it be better and make more sense if Stone Cold was in the room and poured beer over someone's cock?

Although, Stone Cold isn't much to look at, in my opinion, anyway...

"There, now I've had a shower!" Stevie exclaimed.

While you sucked his cock, precum was spilling out of the slit of his penishead, you were gulping it down as well as some of the beer that drenched his shaft.

As you sucked on Stevie's cock, Rob and Shawn were next to your tits, and they went back to tweaking your nipples, but they didn't just tweak your nipples.

Afterwards, they leaned their heads in your nips and sucked them, running their tongues around in circles on your areolas.

Your areolas are so sensitive, and you'd love it if they still tweaked your nipples, though, this is nice too...

"Ohhhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhh!!!" you cried and moaned out, Stevie's cock in your mouth.

You tried not to bite on Stevie's dick while it was in your mouth.

What follows after what you're recreating is a part that's very, very nasty, and a part that's disgusting and dangerous, so you'll skip over that part and even told these men to skip over it.

Jeff has probably spent enough time eating your twat out, so he moved himself away from your pussy.

This evening, Shawn and the rest of the wrestlers in your dressing room are roleplaying as bikers.

Since Shawn's cock was hanging out and he noticed Jeff had moved away from your twat, Shawn got behind you, where his cock slid into your pussy hole Jeff had eaten out, and started to thrust his cock back and forth inside your cunt.

That wasn't all Shawn did, he wrapped his fingers around your hair tied in 2 pigtails, gently pulling your pigtails like they're handlebars.

One of his hands pulled your left ponytail towards the left side, making your face shift there, only for his hand to pull on the right one and shift your face towards the right.

"Left...right...look, it turns easy!" Shawn exclaimed as he thrust in and out of you.

"Ohhhhh, God, Shaaaaawnn!" you moaned and whined.

He didn't just also pull on your pigtails like they're handlebars, he rotated his knuckles like he was revving up the handlebars of a motorcycle.

Rob, meanwhile, had his shaft in his hand, jerking his cock off.

"Sweet!" Rob exclaimed. "This is the first time I've ever had to jerk off to a bike!"

"Me too!" John added.

Rob, Johnny, Stevie and Jeff all walked over in front of your face, where they proceeded to jerk their cocks off right in front of you, pointing their penises at your face, hoping to aim their precum on your face.

Your eyes were closed, that way you won't get any cum in your eyes.

Precum was spilling down their shafts, but they wanted to get it on your face.

Some of it was getting on your face and dripping down your face.

You'd love it if Shawn jerked off on your face as well, in the comic, the girl doesn't have a cock inside her pussy when some guy pulls a leather strap in her mouth and uses it like they're handlebars, perhaps maybe he could.

"Shaaaaawn!" you cried out, albeit not sexually.

He heard you shout your name, but he thought you shouting his name was from you moaning, not something you wanted him to do to you.

"Shaaaawn!" you shouted, raising your voice so he can hear you "Can you take your dick out of my pussy? I want you to cum on my face!"

Shawn heard what you said, which frustrated him considering he's busy thrusting in and out of you, but he remembered how the Razor Ramon lookalike wasn't fucking that redheaded Wendy's girl lookalike when he had that strap in her mouth in that comic.

However, Shawn would love to cum on your face.

He's probably the sexiest man in the room right now.

Some of these other wrestlers (as well as wrestlers not in the room) would love to fuck you in your cunt, maybe they even can, but not for now.

Better luck next time.

"Hah!" Rob laughed "Right on the headlamps!"

"Yeah man, do it!" Jeff added "Just do it!"

Since you have some cocks pointing in your face, you tried opening your eyes, you'd love to suck on one (if not all) of these cocks at the same time.

All your eyes could see in front of you were some cocks pointing in your face, but these cocks need some and were made for suckin'!

Since your mouth was agape thanks to you moaning, you tried leaning your face into Rob's cock, trying to get Rob's erection enter your mouth.

Rob could see your mouth leaning in his dick, so he let his cock slide in your mouth, where you proceeded to suck him off, wrapping your mouth around his shaft.

You didn't just suck his cock, but swallow some of the precum that dripped down his shaft as well.

While sucking his cock (and sucking dick in general) is wonderful, you'd love it if his cum got on your face, not just in your mouth.

Though his cum has been in your mouth, down your throat, in your stomach, on your face and in your vagina, uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries as well, implanting an egg with his seed!

This goes for some of the other men in the room as well: Jeff, Shawn, Johnny and Stevie.

Meanwhile, Shawn's cock slipped out of your cunt hole, still as erect and throbbing as ever, and he walked over in front of you, his erection pointing in your face.

Your eyes could see Shawn's dick pointing in front of you, your eyes growing wild seeing his cock.

Rob loves you sucking him off and all, but you have other things to do.

Shawn wrapped his fingers around his shaft and proceeded to jerk his cock off, his hand moving up and down his shaft over and over again.

He pointed his erection to your face, aiming for his cock to shoot at your face.

Precum was spilling out of the slit of his penishead and some of it was getting on your face.

You, on the other hand, pulled your face away from Rob's erection, his penis leaving your mouth.

"Sorry" you apologized, looking up at him. "I want you to cum on my face, not in my mouth!"

Rob was shocked and frustrated when you pulled your face away from his erection, but he understood once you confessed.

He still continued jerking off on your face, getting his cum on your face.

One of these wrestlers in the room could be behind you and pull your pigtails like they're handlebars, pretend you're a motorcycle, maybe he could even cum in your pussy!

You even gave a hand or two to Rob, Jeff and Shawn and helped masturbate them.

One by one, but not one a few seconds right after the other, pretty soon, all of these wrestlers in front of you jizzed on your face, getting their white cum all over your beautiful face.

You closed your eyes when they came, so their cum won't get in your eyes. It stings like fuck when that happens!

You sucked and cleaned their cocks off afterwards with your mouth and tongue, now you can have their cum in your mouth and swallow it!

Sometimes you even tried putting two or three cocks in your mouth.

Jeff couldn't believe that his cock was in your mouth right next to Shawn's cock, simply because Shawn and Jeff are both the sexiest men in the room.

Jeff grew up idolizing Shawn and was the Shawn Michaels to Matt Hardy's Marty Jannetty.

But Jeff has been in a few orgies involving you and Shawn as far back as 1997.

That goes for Johnny as well, he even has been called "the next Shawn Michaels" (I'm sure people said the same about Jeff) and Johnny Nitro when he was in that MNM tagteam was the Shawn to that other guy's Marty Jannetty.

You slightly regret you didn't try to suck on Jeff, Shawn, Stevie and John's cocks before they all came, but maybe next time this can happen.

This biker-themed orgy is like something D Generation X would've done in the late 90's, specifically the DX that had X Pac and the New Age Outlaws, not just the DX with Triple H and Shawn Michaels.

Confession: That "X Files" parody comic "Revenge of the Nymphomaniac" is an actual comic, Google it, especially on Google images, and you'll see the scenes I recreated.

I always thought "Revenge of the Nymphomaniac" was written in 1996, I even typed a fanfic set in late 1997/early 1998 where the fem reader licks the sweat off of Shawn Michaels and Triple H after they've had a match that was influenced by a moment from that comic, but because of this one biker scene in the comic featuring Stone Cold, Razor Ramon and Brian Pillman lookalikes (despite me thinking it was released in 1996 when Stone Cold was an up-and-coming wrestler), I wondered if these lookalikes were based on those wrestlers (which they probably were).

I looked it up and it turns out this comic was actually written in 2004.

I also thought there was a slutty schoolgirl match featuring WWE divas in 2003, not 2004.

I got the idea for this fanfic when someone online made a video of oversexualized WWE/F divas and Sexy Diva Action from the Attitude and Ruthless Aggression eras (as well as sexualized women in 90's and 2000's ECW and late 2000's/early 2010's era TNA) set to the song "Sex Machine" by Dope (a Marilyn Manson knockoff band), and there's these lyrics in that song that go "Start her motor, take your time Rev her up slowly and pull to the line", which immediately made me think of this scene from that "Revenge of the Nymphomaniac" comic.

Also, I have thought of setting this fanfic in early 1998 or even in late 1998/early 1999 when D Generation X were still a thing and looked like bikers and maybe even recreating that aforementioned scene from “Revenge of the Nymphomaniac” even though the comic hadn’t been invented yet.

#shawn michaels #rob van dam #jeff hardy #2004 #stevie richards #johnny nitro #2000s #00s #wwe #ruthless aggression #ruthless aggression era #fanfiction

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Blinded in Chains: Chapter Three

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4752 Alternate: AO3 Author’s Note: Bit of a longer chapter this time! Enjoy! Tag List: @justsmilestuffhappens @tkandbuck @poppy3019 @mysepticheartfan1 @idealuk @irrationalyperfect @claire-nyc @javachik

Buck does manage to eventually sit by Eddie’s side without causing a panic attack. In fact, he stays there the whole night, keeping constant vigil and obsessively reading his vitals. One of the downsides of being a first responder is knowing what they all mean. Maddie even brings him a change of clothes so he can change out of his turnout gear in the bathroom. Maddie hadn’t looked happy when he had handed her the heavy uniform and told her to bring it back to the station, that Bobby would know what to do with it. She ended up calling Chimney, who then showed up to retrieve it.

Eddie had spiked a fever during the night. Buck can’t drag his eyes away from the screen that is telling him Eddie’s temperature at the current moment is 103°F. The doctor, who had stopped by because of this, told him that it is most likely caused by shock. He orders a battery of treatments for it, including things to help stabilize Eddie’s blood flow and blood pressure, as well as changing some of the antibiotics they already had him on. He also informs Buck that the nurses will keep their eyes out for any of the burns becoming infected.

The next day, Eddie’s parents show up. Helena enters the room first, gasping at the sight of her son, followed by Ramon who frowns. “Oh my God,” Helena exclaims, reaching for her son’s face but stopping abruptly. She looks over to Buck. “Can I touch him?”

Buck nods and swallows. “Yeah.”

She lays her hand down on his cheek gently, right over a bandage. “My poor baby.” She sounds like she’s about to cry.

“We would have been here sooner but the earlier flight we booked got canceled,” Ramon informs him. He, too, approaches Eddie but doesn’t touch him. His eyes glance over to where Buck’s got a firm grip on Eddie’s left hand.

Buck follows his eyes, refuses to be ashamed by it, and says, “It’s probably best to not touch his right hand. It got pretty badly burned.”

“How bad?” Helena asks, not even looking away from Eddie’s face.

“Third-degree with nerve damage.”

“Nerve damage?” Ramon sits down in a chair next to where his wife is standing. “What kind of nerve damage?”

Buck shrugs, watching him closely. He’s glad Ramon has hopefully decided now is not the time to bring up why Buck is holding Eddie’s hand. Not that Buck would ever admit his feelings towards Eddie to his father when Eddie doesn’t even know how Buck feels. “Not as bad as it could have been.” He shrugs. “The gloves, they’re made for fires but this… our gear isn’t made for explosions hence why he got burned on his hands and chest.”

“So his left hand is burned too?” Helena finally sits down as well, pulling a chair over next to Ramon.

Buck nods. “Yeah, but not as bad as the right. No nerve damage as far as the doctor can tell.”

“And his face?” Ramon asks.

Buck hesitates, glancing at Eddie’s bandaged face. “Yet to be determined. Also, the thing about burns, is they can start out as a mild burn and then become worse. So a second-degree burn can become a third-degree burn.”

“Why?”

“Because the heat from it continues to do damage. Luckily, the doctor thinks they got to the ones on his chest quickly enough to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Buck informs them, lessening some of their worries.

“Why is his right hand worse than the left?” Ramon inquires.

Buck shrugs. “Who knows. The gloves were almost melted onto his hands. The right one probably… melted more.”

His parents don’t comment on that, looking more worried than before now. Helena is stroking Eddie’s arm while blinking away tears and Roman stares at the ground, scowl set in place. Buck wonders if he’ll cry about his son or if he’s too “manly” to do that in front of Buck. Buck has no qualms about crying in front of them. He would do it if he hadn’t exhausted himself earlier from already crying so much.

“Has Christopher seen him?” Helena speaks up, her voice jarring in the quiet of the room. They don’t even have the monitor that reads all of Eddie’s vitals making the beeping sound to go along with Eddie’s heartbeat.

Buck shakes his head. “No. Isabel, Carla, and I thought it best for Christopher to not see him for now, but he’s going to have to eventually. We don’t know how long they are going to keep him in the coma.”

Helena nods at that. “Maybe wait a few days, a week maybe.”

“You can’t keep a son from his father,” Ramon argues.

Helena turns to him, anger present in her eyes. “He’s nine years old, Ramon.” She gestures towards Eddie’s prone figure. “This will terrify him.”

“He’s still his father and he should see him.”

“Yes, but in a few days,” she snaps. “We don’t even know if Eddie is going to surv-” she cuts herself off, choking on the words and tears start streaming down her face. She tilts her head down and places a hand over her mouth to try and stifle her sobs but it doesn’t work well. Ramon is scowling in distress again but he doesn’t touch his wife or try to comfort her. So Buck does.

He gets up out of his chair, lets go of Eddie’s hand, and walks around the bed to kneel down next to her. He places a hand on her back gently and rubs up and down. “Eddie is going to be fine.” She shakes her head in protest, opens her mouth, but a sob only escapes, body jerking with the noise. “He is. He’s strong and a fighter. He’s not going to die. He’s not going to leave his family, especially his son. He will fight his way back for that kid. I’ve seen it before. He’ll do it now.”

Helena is looking at him now, tears falling across her cheeks every time she blinks, and her eyes are red and puffy. She nods, grabs Buck’s hand, and squeezes. “He will.”

Buck nods in affirmation and squeezes back. “And I think you’re right. We’ll wait a few days before Christopher sees him, give us time to explain what’s going on and prepare him. But I do think he should see him before the bandages come off.” Buck shakes his head regrettably. “I’ve seen a lot of burns in this line of work. It’s going to be scarier without the bandages than with them.”

“Okay,” Helena agrees and Ramon doesn’t say anything.

When the quiet starts to become deafening, Buck stands back up and goes back to his own chair, sighing loudly. “How long are you two staying?”

Ramon answers him. “About a week.”

Then Helena pitches in, as if she has the urge to explain themselves. “It’s not that we don’t want to stay longer and be here when he wakes up but we have work. We can only stay away for so long.”

Buck nods in understanding. “I understand.” He smiles at her, trying to convey that he’s not judging them. “I have a shift to go to in a couple of hours.” A twenty-four-hour shift to be exact and Buck has gotten zero sleep since yesterday. He’s going to have to chug gallons of coffee before and during the shift. He shrugs. “Life has to go on.”

Helena is frowning. “He’s our baby though.”

“The doctor is probably not going to wake him for weeks, Helena,” Buck informs her. “You can always try to come back when they do and in the meantime, Isabel and I will keep you informed.”

She smiles back at him but the look is sad. “I appreciate that, Buck.”

*~~~*

The next few days go from bad to worse, to back down to just bad. By day three of being in the hospital, Eddie’s fever spikes dangerously causing hyperpyrexia. Despite already pumping Eddie with antibiotics, the doctor suspects one of his burns might have gotten infected and caused sepsis. He takes some blood to test for it all while urgently telling nurses how he wants Eddie’s fever to be treated for now. Since they aren’t positive that it is sepsis, the doctor ups Eddie’s fluid intake to keep him hydrated, gives him fever-reducing medication, and tells the nurses to put some cold, ice packs around his body but to avoid the bandages. They also take out the feeding tube just in case Eddie ends up having a seizure due to the fever, which does end up happening and scaring the shit out of Buck who had just come to visit after his twenty-four-hour shift. After that, they give him some dantrolene to relax his muscles.

The treatments help reduce Eddie’s fever back to a more manageable temperature and, in the end, the doctor determines it is sepsis. The doctor switches Eddie off the IV and instead places him on a central line that will make it easier to give Eddie medication and nutrition for several weeks. He then begins treating Eddie for the sepsis by giving him, yet again, a different regime of antibiotics, vasoactive medications to increase Eddie’s blood pressure, insulin to stabilize blood sugar, and corticosteroids to reduce inflammation. The doctor also starts Eddie on dialysis to assist the kidneys and hopefully prevent any damage that could be caused by the sepsis.

Once Eddie is back to being stabilized and receiving all his treatments, the Diaz’s and Buck decide they should probably let Christopher see his dad sooner rather than later. The decision, to Buck’s heartache but something he can’t deny, is stemmed from the fact that Christopher has the right to see his dad one last time in case Eddie doesn’t make it.

In case Eddie dies.

So Isabel and Carla bring Christopher to the hospital after school where he meets up with Helena, Ramon, and Buck outside Eddie’s room. The curtain is drawn over the door so the nine-year-old can’t see inside yet, but Christopher glances over to it nonetheless. He looks nervous and scared. As soon as the three reach them, Ramon and Helena immediately start arguing on how they should approach and handle the situation.

“Stop!” Buck interrupts them, holding his hands up. “You’re just making this worse.” He gestures towards Christopher who has been standing there silently, biting his bottom lip and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You’re scaring him.” Ramon opens his mouth to reply but Buck ignores him, shaking his head, “Just let me…” Buck kneels down and places his hands on Christopher’s shoulders, turning the boy to face him. “Hey, Buddy.”

Christopher tries to smile at him but it doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s the saddest thing Buck has ever seen. “Abuela said that Dad got really hurt. Is he okay?”

Buck doesn’t know how to answer that question. “He’s fine,” he tells the boy, deciding to not go with the full picture. Eddie is fine… for now.

“Why couldn’t I see him before now?”

Buck tries to give Christopher his best reassuring smile but he knows it doesn’t help. “Because the doctors needed to do their job and take care of your dad without a lot of people here first.” He pokes at Christopher’s chest gently. “But, now that they’ve gotten your dad all settled in, they say more people can come and see him.”

“Like us?” Christopher asks.

Buck nods and sniffles, feeling emotional. “Yeah, Buddy, like us.” He briefly looks over to the door to Eddie’s room and then back to Christopher. “Listen, Chris, when we get in there, it’s going to look really scary, but your dad is in the best hands possible, okay?”

“Abuela said that Dad has a lot of bandaids on.”

Buck squeezes the nine-year old’s shoulders. “Yeah, he does, and it’s okay to be scared but everything that is on him or attached to him is there to help him get better.”

Christopher is frowning. “Abuela also said Dad was going to be sleeping and that he will sleep for a long time.”

Again, Buck nods. “That’s also to help him get better. It’s so his body can focus on healing instead of him worried about us worrying over him.” That makes Christopher genuinely smile and Buck takes the win. “You ready, Superman?”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“I’ll be right beside you,” he reassures and Christopher nods bravely.

Buck stands back up and walks beside Christopher as they enter Eddie’s room, the rest of the family behind them. All the preparation in the world couldn’t have stopped Christopher from crying as soon as he saw his dad and Buck is immediately crouched beside him again, wrapping him up in his arms. Christopher encircles his arms around Buck’s torso, crutches smacking Buck in the back hard but he doesn’t mind. His only concern is comforting Christopher at the moment.

Christopher cries for a while and he won’t let anyone else touch or comfort him except for Buck. So Buck lifts him up and walks back over to the chair that he usually occupies. Christopher sits on his lap, crying into his shoulder, as Buck runs his fingers soothingly through his hair. After several minutes, he finally calms and glances over to Eddie, sniffling loudly.

“Do you want to sit with him?” Buck asks Christopher.

Christopher shrugs. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Buck shakes his head and picks Christopher up as he stands. “You won’t, I promise.” He carefully sets Christopher down on the bed next to Eddie. Christopher almost immediately settles himself down into a lying position, pulling himself close to hug his dad and burying his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

Buck looks up at Isabel and the rest of the family to see them all watching Christopher with sad expressions on their faces. He exchanges a concerned look with Carla before he hears a knock at the door. Turning to face who it is, he’s not surprised to see Bobby standing there. Bobby has been visiting Eddie and Hammond every day just as Buck has been.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Bobby asks as he visibly swallows at the sight of Christopher lying with his dad.

“No, of course, not Bobby,” Buck answer.

“Actually, he is,” Ramon then speaks up, turning to face the two. “This should be family only.”

Carla crosses her arms. “Excuse me?”

Ramon scowls. “It should be family here to comfort Christopher, not the aid and,” he looks towards Buck, eyes narrowing and Buck knows he’s thinking about when Buck had held Eddie’s hand. “Some random adult friend of his father’s.”

Buck swallows down his anger as Isabel starts talking. “Buck and Carla are just as much Christopher’s family as the rest of us here.”

Carla looks just as pissed as Buck feels but before she can say anything, Bobby is stepping into the room more, holding up both his hands. “How about we don’t discuss this in front of Christopher?”

Buck’s heart plummets into his stomach as realization dawns on him that the kid probably heard that whole thing. He turns to Christopher who has sat up now to watch what was going on. Tears are streaming down his face at a steady pace. “I don’t want Buck or Carla to leave.”

Helena and Ramon share a glance but it’s Buck who makes his way over to Christopher, sitting down on the edge of the bed and hugging him close reassuringly. “We won’t leave if you don’t want us to.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Buck?” It’s Bobby again who has approached. “I do need to talk to you for a second.” He looks around the room. “Not in here.”

Letting go of Christopher and looking him straight in the eyes he says, “I’ll be right back, I promise. I’m just going to be right outside that door.”

“And I’ll still be here,” Carla inputs, coming to take Buck’s place on the bed beside Christopher.

Christopher nods and when Buck is sure that he’ll be fine, he follows Bobby outside the room. “What is it? Is it Hammond?”

“No,” Bobby says, shaking his head. He swallows, not unlike before when he had first arrived and seen Christopher, and then continues. “The funeral for Briggs, Garret, and Sinclair is tomorrow.”

A lump suddenly forms in Buck’s throat. “Oh…”

“All of the crew is going to be there but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Bobby continues.

Buck shakes his head. “No, I’ll be there. Definitely. It’s just…” He peers over at the door to Eddie’s room. The curtain is drawn closed so he can’t see anything. “Eddie’s going to hate that he missed it.”

Bobby’s eyes are shiny when Buck looks back at him again. “Well, let’s focus on not having one for him as well.”

He nods in agreement, licking his lips and trying to swallow past what is lodged in his throat. “What about Hammond?”

Bobby sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his eyes. “No, change.” He then shrugs. “But as long as Eddie is still alive, Beth refuses to pull the plug.”

“Yeah, she basically told me the same thing.”

“If Eddie pulls through this, Buck…” Bobby doesn’t finish, shoulders slouching and Buck can see how much this whole situation is affecting Bobby. The older man looks tired with bags under his eye and a perpetual frown set in place. But Buck doesn’t need Bobby to finish. He knows what is being unsaid; that if — and Buck doesn’t even want to think about that if — Eddie survives this, Bobby is going to have to talk to Beth about finally saying goodbye and letting go of her husband and father of her child. Because they all know that Hammond is already dead, being kept alive by machines, whether Eddie makes it himself or not.

“I can do it,” Buck volunteers because he can’t stand the look of anguish and guilt and responsibility on Bobby’s face.

Bobby shakes his head. “Buck, no. It’s my job.”

“I can do it, Bobby,” he reaffirms, making it clear in his voice that there is no room to argue. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell her.”

Bobby watches him closely with so much pain in his eyes that it’s almost unbearable to see. He doesn’t argue with him though and instead nods minutely, resigning to Buck’s offer. Licking his lips one last time and taking a deep breath to steel himself, Buck turns back towards the room. “Come on, we better get back inside.”

Bobby follows silently and once back in the room, Buck goes and holds Christopher tight as they both sit on the edge of Eddie’s bed.

*~~~*

Buck decides he hates suits. Whenever he has to wear one, it’s either for something bad or something bad happens (when he choked during his date with Abby, the lawsuit hearing, and now the funeral of three of his crew members.) Everybody is dressed in nice outfits while Bobby is dressed in his Captain’s uniform. The universe even has the decency to rain as if it were crying right along with them in the most cliché way.

Buck also hates when funerals are depicted in movies and TV shows because it’s never realistic. Not everyone dresses in black and not everyone has a black umbrella to bring along with them. As Buck looks around the people gathered, he sees blues and purples and even a goddamn rainbow umbrella. But one thing the movies and TV shows always get right is the sad faces, the crying, and the sullen atmosphere. The air is so heavy with sorrow and grief and loss, that it makes it hard to breathe.

Buck holds his dark blue umbrella over his head, eyes downcast as he listens to the funeral conductor talk. He stands with Chimney and Hen while Bobby stands towards the front with others that have a higher standing than them. The three caskets upfront each have their own U.S. flag draped over them and when the funeral conductor is done, each one gets carefully folded and handed off to a family member.

It’s the first time Buck has had to go to a colleague’s funeral, let alone three of them with a possible fourth — Buck refuses to acknowledge there might be a fifth one to add as well — colleague in the future. They each are given the opportunity to say something but Buck doesn’t and neither does Hen or Chimney. Bobby makes a speech given that he’s the Captain and is expected to but Buck can tell it’s difficult for him to do so.

Eventually, the mingling starts, and Buck somehow managed to make it through the whole ceremony without crying. He briefly talks to Briggs, Garret, and Sinclair’s family, telling them his condolences. They all have sad, haunted eyes and it makes the heavy weight that has placed itself on Buck’s chest since the funeral started, even heavier. He feels like he can’t breathe and he’s getting too emotional he knows this, but these were three of his friends and it could have been — still could be — Eddie and Buck can’t handle that.

So he sneaks off a little ways away, rubbing a hand down his face and taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. He sits down on the ground, under a tree, and draws his knees up, tilting his head down between them. This is all becoming too much and he’s feeling too much and doesn’t know how to handle it, how to cope.

“Hey,” Buck jumps at the sound of Beth’s voice. He had seen her at the funeral but hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. “May I sit with you?” Buck nods. She has obviously been crying. With a heavy sigh, she lowers herself down next to Buck, leaning against the tree. “You okay?”

Buck shrugs. “I just needed a breather.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They sit there in silence for a long time, long enough to watch the crowd for the funeral start to disperse. Buck turns to her, frowning. “Beth, listen-”

“I’m not ready,” she says, cutting him off as if already knowing what he was about to say. Buck supposes she does, seeing that they are at a funeral for people who were in the same explosion as her husband.

“Beth, he’s gone,” Buck tries, voice gentle and soft.

“Eddie’s not.”

Buck shakes his head, twists to face her better. “That doesn’t matter. It’s not going to change Isaac’s situation.”

“Situation.” Her frown deepens and her eyes glisten over with fresh tears. “You make it sound so simple.”

“I know it’s not, Beth, but-”

“How?” She turns to him angrily, tears rolling down her cheeks. “How could you possibly know? Chloe is crying herself to sleep every night because she misses her daddy. I met Isaac when we were both in high school. He is my best friend, my husband, the love of my life, and father to our beautiful daughter. So, please, Buck, tell me again how you know how hard this is!” She yells the last part, standing abruptly.

Buck scrambles after her, standing as well. “Okay, so maybe I don’t understand completely but Eddie means a lot more to me than you think.”

“Yeah, and you’re giving him a chance to get better! Why can’t you give Issac the same?”

“Because he’s already dead, Beth!” Buck didn’t mean to say it as harshly as it came out but he’s feeling overwhelmed, hurt, mournful, and depressed. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm himself and says more gently, “He’s gone, Beth. The machines are keeping his body alive now and once they turn it off… his body can’t do it for him. I’m sorry, Beth, but he’s too far gone to get better.”

Her eyes are fire, the glare she is shooting Buck filled with hurt and fury. Beth shakes her head, takes a step back. “No.” Another step back and she points at Buck. “No. Why does Eddie get to live while my husband dies?” She shakes her head again, tears slipping down her face. “I am not giving up on him.”

“Beth-”

“Stay the hell away from me!” she yells at him and then turns on her heels, stomping away.

Buck chokes on his heart that is beating in his throat and everything goes blurry as tears fill his eyes. They fall down his cheeks when he tries to blink them away. Everybody is gone now, having left the funeral, and Buck is standing there all alone.

Crying.

*~~~*

Weeks go by, Buck doesn’t talk to Beth and gets news on Hammond through Bobby or Hen or Chimney, and no one is surprised that he hasn’t gotten any better. Eddie’s parents also go back to El Paso, with Helena telling Buck to keep her informed and up to date on Eddie’s condition while Ramon barely says two words to him. It gets easier and easier for Christopher to see his dad and the kid now comes by almost every day after school with Carla to read a book to Eddie, either sitting on the edge of the bed or in Buck’s lap. He’s also staying with Eddie’s Abuela for the time being and sometimes with Buck when Buck actually bothers to go home.

It becomes routine for Buck, a habit now, to go see Eddie whenever he can. If he’s not working a shift, then he’s sat next to Eddie’s hospital bed, obsessively watching Eddie’s vitals. They spike and wane, spike and wane, and Buck swears he’s going to have a heart attack if Eddie doesn’t stop scaring him. He will sit there, next to Eddie, for hours just talking nonsense to him, rambling about anything and everything possible while holding onto Eddie’s left hand like a lifeline. Sometimes he joins Bobby in the cathedral, despite not being religious himself, but can tell on the really bad days that Bobby needs the company. Maddie becomes concerned about all the time he’s been spending in the hospital (he hardly ever goes back to his apartment now, only to take a shower and change his clothes. He eats at the hospital and sleeps in the chair next to Eddie’s bed), but he brushes off her worries and tells her he’s fine.

Because he is.

Maybe he’s a little stressed and maybe he’s having nightmares and so terrified to leave Eddie for more than an hour that he is practically having panic attacks at work, but he’s fine and managing. He manages to hide his anxiety from his coworkers and has his panic attacks in the bathroom instead of where he can be seen. Buck will call the hospital every hour while on shift to get updates and he’s sure the nurses are getting annoyed with him but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way to lessen the anxiety he feels while at work.

He doesn’t know what he would do if Eddie died while he wasn’t there with him.

But eventually, Eddie does finally stabilize out with his vitals looking more normal and the doctor is starting to actually look hopeful instead of his usual melancholy expression whenever it comes to Eddie’s outcome. To Buck’s relief, Eddie improves day by day. His fever finally comes down, his broken bones start healing nicely in their casts, and the burns are even starting to slowly but surely heal into pale scars. The nurses eventually take off the bandages on Eddie’s torso, leaving the burns out to get air and some of the bandages come off Eddie’s face. They leave the bandages on Eddie’s hands and over his eyes though, as those were the most significantly burnt areas. Overall, Eddie’s prognosis is looking better and better each day and the relief Buck feels at that is unmeasurable.

And then finally, one day, after seven weeks of being in the hospital, the doctor tells Buck on one of Buck’s many routine visits, that they are finally going to wake Eddie up.

In two days.

Buck’s heart almost beats out of his chest with the anticipation while at the same time he’s nervous. What if something goes wrong before then? What if something goes wrong after? There are so many different possibilities. But one thing Buck knows for sure.

It’s going to be a hard road going forward.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thank you all for reading!! ❤❤

#Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 on Fox #911 #Buck #Blinded in Chains #My Fanfiction

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