#chimney lead flashing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaosandmarigolds · 4 months

Text

Cabin

(the timeline is a lil weird in this so just go for the vibes, Pre-K verse. Fem!reader)

Based off this AWESOME ASK! so here's my lil take on it <3

“Think ‘m dyin.”

“You’re fine.”

”UGH- oi, th’ light- oi, Beth? That you? callin me, LT, they callin me.”

Simon doesn’t bother to look up from the tablet to his wounded comrade, who would be alright with some TLC and a long night’s sleep. Currently, he was trying to find somewhere they could all rest, somewhere safe, which seemed to be an easy task- as he knew this forest like the back of his hand. (After living in a town not even ten miles away for close to seven years) Not to mention, he happened to know where there was a cabin, which should be empty.

Technically it wasn’t his cabin, it had been your brother however when your brother moved he left it to you. And since it was the middle of the summer and the cabin didn’t have AC, Simon assumed you were most likely happily sitting at home with the kids, on an air-conditioned covered porch.

With that in mind, he made his decision to lead his team towards the cabin. It would be a bit of a trek, but it was the best option they had, it wasn’t far from where they had to leave the truck- the mission had been odd, just to accompany some international weapons dealer, and since they were the closest they had been assigned. Long- story short, it went to hell and they somehow made it back in one piece. They had to wait for pickup, to be treated, and then for the debrief, so he couldn’t quite just go home, though he wanted to.

“Since when do ya own real estate?” Kyle remarked as they approached the cabin, lit up by their flashlights and the moon that hung, he had gotten out with a broken rib and a graze on the arm- luckily he didn’t fall from any high places this time. It was a quaint thing, made of wood with a cute chimney, and a nice porch. A big red garage not too far away from it and a dirt path leading to the neat porch.

“Not mine.” Simon replied bluntly back, handing his backpack to Kyle, and then told them he would grab some emergency packs and the first aid kit from the garage. With one flashlight tucked under his arm, he went around the back of the garage while the rest went into the cabin, as he also told them the spare key was under the chair leg. He remembered building the garage, yet somehow he still would grumble about how loud the door was.

Normally the garage was barren, give or take the Christmas decorations you would have him store in there, a rack with his tools and weapons. As well a year’s worth of rations, and camping gear, both mundane and survival- to put it simply it had everything he would need if he simply needed to vanish for a while. Though he hadn’t needed to in a long moment, not since he met you and Ollie- and perhaps that could be summed up to he didn’t quite want to anymore, either way- he flipped on the flickering light expecting a vacant garage.

No. Instead, he found your car sitting in the darkness. He knew it was yours because only your car would have that dent he caused in the front fender. Within a millionth of a second everything began to make sense- you had said you had a project you were going to surprise him with, ‘take it off his shoulders’ as you gleefully had put it before he left. The air conditioning, you had taken on the task of installing the air conditioning while he was gone. Which meant you were in the cabin with Ollie and he just sent a team of men in there, armed.

All the same, he had taught you to fend for yourself, enough to where when he ran through the front door to the sight of a knife to Johnny’s neck and a panic-riddled fear within your eye. He wasn’t shocked by it. He quickly told Kyle to drop the gun, harshly at that, to which Johnny replied-

“WHA? Bonie’s go’ a knife-” “Simon?”

His eyes flash over to yours and almost out of habit, his hand went to take off the mask, to assure you, “S jus me, let Johnny go, baby. Jus me.”

“Oh my god,” You very quickly drop the weapon of opportunity and without much else warning you turn around on your heel to go down the hall, opening up the coat closet to pick up the three-year-old- who was still baffled on what was going on and why you told him to go hide.

All the while you were doing that Johnny very slowly looked back at Simon, a look of exasperation across his expression- because- well two things actually; he had technically seen the man’s face before, but never in good lighting and it wasn’t because Simon was trying to show his face it was more of a random moment post-OP. Secondly; “What do ya ‘ean ‘Baby?”

“ISTER RILEY!” The three-year-old shrieks with glee before any questions are asked and before any can be answered, the child in his blue dinosaur-themed PJs and his mob of hair messy from bed, yet he seemed as awake as one could be. Ollie tried to wiggle out of your grasp, failing so he frowned and looked to you, “Momma wan go ‘Ister Riley.”

You stand at the end of the hallway, beside the old couch and you look over the three men, one you happened to be in a relationship with, and the other two you had no earthly idea of their existence till two minutes before, where they rudely woke you up with clanking boots. You only glance the two over before returning your gaze to Simon, who is very slowly approaching his movements calculated, as if he knew a sudden movement would scare you. “Who…who are these people?”

“On my team, I didn’t know you would be ‘ere,” His voice was hushed, as if he didn’t want them to hear his words, as he got closer Ollie began to lean out of your grasp to move to him- and normally you would allow the transfer, yet not then. Which Simon was very aware of, “Needed somewhere to crash for the night, I didn’t know you ‘ere here. I wouldn’t have-”

Before he could finish his apologies, your voice was whispered through the silence, “You’re all bleeding, what? Do they not have medics? I thought- you told me you had people to take care of you.” Sure, you were very angry and more importantly scared, feeling unsafe in your own home and if not a bit betrayed, yet…for the moment you were willing to overlook that.

“Back at base, luv,” Simon was quick to reply, “Waiting for someone to ‘ick us up ‘n take us.”

You take a moment to process his words and you nod, “Johnny and Kyle?” Your husband very slowly nods, so you look back to the two beaten-up men, who were standing as if they were watching their best friend get yelled at by their parents. After a moment of breathing and slowing your heart rate you give a meek smile, “Hi, I’m sorry, that was a…well an awful introduction, I swear I’m nice.”

They were both quick to deny you being the guilty party, Kyle taking off the cap within a millisecond as he spoke, “No! We must’ve scared ya to death, completely rational reaction, Missus.”

Johnny nods and motions to Kyle as he adds on. Watching as Simon very carefully moves to stand behind you. He knew his best friend, and he somehow didn’t know of his secret wife- suspicions yes, yet he was tickled pink that he was correct. “Wha’ Gaz is sayin, you did not’in wrong, bonnie, fact o’ it is-”Ollie’s face crinkles as Johnny speaks and he moves his head to look back at Simon, seeing him from an upside-down view, “Ister Riley why does he talk weird?” As if on cue you move Ollie to sit happily in Simon’s arms and give a weak laugh to distract them both from your son’s rude question.

“Tea?”

—

“And Missus?” Kyle said after about ten minutes of silence, the night was peaceful, Ollie going from Simon to Johnny the entire night and asking about every question imaginable (”You fight bad people?””I do laddie.””Da’s so cool.”….”Wha’s your name?””Johnny.””Nuh-huh.””Nuh-huh?””Yea, ‘Ister Riley called ya someden different earlier.””Ah, Soap, tha’ my speical nickname.””SOAP??”) and you fussing about how crappy their medic was, they didn’t have one, and getting the first aid kits and clean clothes out, the night was oddly…pleasant.

Simon, who currently had a sleeping three-year-old against his chest, looks up from his tea and then clears his throat. “Wha’ bout her?”

Johnny had spent the last forty minutes thinking about it all, and he had figured out the timeline, or he thought so, so he looked to Simon- a look of pure shock and a little bit of mock upon his face, “Whatcha ‘ean ‘wha’ bout her? LT got a wife n kid ‘n we ‘ere nun wiser!”

“Tha was what I was hopin for,” Simon said dully in return, moving to stand up, an arm under the boy, and then giving you a soft smile as you came back from the garage, blankets in hand. “Gonna put Olls t’ bed.”

As your husband tells you what he was doing you give him a little nod and then set the blankets down on the couch, looking back to the very intimidating men, who were somewhat pleasant as you got to know them. “Unfortunately one of you will have to sleep on the floor. Si’s got a little cot thingy but I hate that thing so I will subject you to it. Trust me, the floor is better.”

Johnny laughs, “Nah we’ll jus cuddle on and we’ll be fine, Missus.”

“No, we will not.” Kyle deadpanned back, glaring at Johnny before looking back to you, “Thank you for opening your home.”

You smile at him, finding it easier to do so after a few hours, “Well after having to endure Ollie for hours it’s the least I could do.” It was a joke that they both caught onto, laughing lightly at it, though the air wasn’t stiff it was most definitely a bit awkward.

“Speakin of Ollie, is he-”

“Oh, he’s not Simons.” You quickly finish the thought, fully knowing that was going to be the question out of the Scotts mouth, then you clear your throat, walking to the kitchen as you spoke, “I mean- sorry, I met Simon when Ollie was about a year and a half old, my ex divorced me after Ollie was born and since he had been on deployment I didn- anyway sorry,” You wave your hand and grab your mug, “and Simon was volunteering at the school I worked at- for um, well John, you both know John of course- anyway, I needed a babysitter for Ollie and he offered and then…well the rest is history.”

“Ghost volunteering at a school?” Kyle echoed to clarify, “an the kids weren’t scared of him?”

“Terrified,” You reply, a laugh in your voice, “It was cute, he was cute, he’s good with kids, he won’t say he is but he is and oh lord, I…” A slight faltering and you shake your head, “Anyway, I’ll let you both sleep. You know where the bathroom is.”

With a few goodnights, you walk down the hall, leaning on the doorframe to the smaller room, which had a pull-down bed that had Ollie’s favorite racecar-themed blanket atop of it and a few select toys you had let him bring on the two-night trip. As you listened to the very faint conversation you stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment between the father-figure and the boy.

“I like Misser Soap and Misser Kyle.”

“Mm, thos’ are my brother’s laddie, so ‘m sure they’re happy you like em.”

“If…if dey brother then- then they like Uncle Mark?”

“…Yeah, sorta like your Uncle Mark, alright, you get to sleep, yeah? Fore mum has both our hides.”

You move to stay in the hallway as Simon kisses the boy’s forehead and tells him goodnight for the billionth time, and you turn your head upward to look at him as he closes the door behind him. He looked tired if anything, so maybe you would wait for your scolding. Silence, as you had learned very quickly on within your relationship, was the cornerstone of who he was. Whatever you may want to be said he was already aware of, anything you wanted to be expressed he was already expressing in his own way. With that in mind you move to where he could easily wrap his arms around you, tucking you into what he felt was like a safe embrace.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Not scared of you, scared of what would happen without you.”

(annd yeah, that's all. Feedback, comments and all that mean so much to me <3)

226 notes · View notes

tommys-evan · 5 months

Text

Taking him home

[ post 07x06, general audience, tw: buck's parents don’t approve but who knows whether that's homo/biphobia or just their usual buckphobia ]

Not long after the wedding party had cake, the hospital staff kicks out everyone who is not Chimney's immediate family.

Buck hugs Maddie tightly. "Do you want me to wait outside for you?" He mumbles into her long, brown hair.

Maddie smiles. "Thank you, but I'll be alright," she replies, "You go home with your hot-ass pilot."

He actually giggles softly. Maddie looks at him, in surprise. She has never heard him giggle like that before. Before she can say anything, Buck's face gets serious again.

"I'm glad this day ended the way it did," Buck says with a sincere smile on his face.

"Me two, Buck," Maddie sighs and goes in for another tight hug, "Me too."

She looks at Tommy who just said good-bye to Chimney and is now coming up to stand closely next to Buck. "Are you staying?" He softly asks Buck.

"No, he's not," Maddie answers for her little brother and grins up at the man who is even taller than Buck himself, "Take him home, Tommy."

Tommy nods. "Happily," he smiles and looks at Buck. For the fracture of a second, hunger flashes over his face but he quickly schools his expression. Buck saw it, though, and he revels in it. He cannot wait.

While Tommy hugs Maddie goodbye, Buck's mother appears right in front of Buck. Her facial expression is controlled but it is evident to both of her children that she has quite a lot to say.

"Can we talk?" Margaret asks, looking at Buck before she shoots Tommy an openly disdainful look. "In private."

"There’s no need to talk, mom," Buck says faking nonchalance.

Maddie eyes the scene for the fracture of a second, before she pats Tommy's arm, and quietly whispers, "Better take him outside right now if you want to enjoy the rest of the night."

Tommy doesn’t have to be told twice.

"Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Buckley," he intervenes and introduces himself shortly but politely, "I don’t mean to be rude but the hospital staff wanted us out of the room about five minutes ago and to be frank, I really need a shower." Without missing a beat, he turns to Buck, "Ready to go?"

He offers a hand. Buck takes it in his and follows his lead without hesitation.

"Buck," Margaret hisses, but by the time his name leaves her lips, her son is already guided halfway out of the room by his boyfriend.

"Was that okay?" Tommy asks quietly once they are outside in the hallway.

"More than okay," Buck lets out a breath and tucks himself safely against Tommy's side.

Tommy eyes him curiously. "Did your mom just call you 'Buck'?" He asks as he pulls Buck closer.

Buck chuckles drily. "Yeah, I hate when my parents call me 'Evan'."

Tommy stops short and looks at him in shock. "I call you 'Evan' all the time!"

Buck smiles and nods. "I know," he says softly and gently pats Tommy's arm, "And I love it." Then he changes the subject. "Your place or mine? Or... you know, separate ways... I could call you an Uber."

Tommy shakes his head. "Back to the station first to get my stuff and then my place? Only if you want to, of course."

Buck wants to, of course.

When they finally turn to leave for good, Buck meets Bobby's eyes from across the hallway. There is a proud smile on Bobby's face as he sends them an approving nod. That is, in fact, all Buck needs.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #bab writes

245 notes · View notes

ellephlox · 11 months

Text

Lights Out

Summary: You’re touring a haunted house with Matt, and the entire building loses power when a thunderstorm arrives. On the bright side, you’ve got Matt to lead you out (when he’s not taking advantage of your inability to see).

Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Creepy haunted house imagery, swears

The sign for local attractions on the highway was battered and scratched, bearing the words HAUNTED HOUSE — EXIT 64. Rain pounded on the windshield as you drove; it was a long seven hours from the weekend holiday you’d taken with Matt back to Hell’s Kitchen, and you were only halfway done the drive. There was obviously no way for Matt to switch off with you, so instead he kept pushing for rest stops so that you could stretch your legs from the driving, despite your assurance to him that it was okay.

You pulled into a parking spot outside the attraction, mud and dirt grinding under the tires. Once the key was out of the ignition, the silence of the engine was eerily fitting for the view of the haunted mansion in front of you, especially with the pounding of the rain on the roof.

“Wow,” you said, peering up at it. “This thing’s actually pretty big. It looks Gothic — there’s a rounded tower-like part on the left, with bay windows, I think. In the center where the roof is highest, it’s pointy and there’s a weathervane with a skull on top. The outside is painted a really ugly purple. Oh, and the decorations are awesome. They look genuine, too; gravestones, a body sticking out of the chimney, blood splattered all over the front porch. Ha. There’s even a hearse parked next to us.”

“Scary or corny, overall?”

“It looks pretty good. I’d say it’s scary but you’re here with me,” you said, grabbing his hand. “Ready?”

You paid at the ticket booth and then entered the mansion. Only once you were safely inside, far from any of the workers, did Matt drop his hand from your arm. “There’s no one else here,” he said. “Just you and me.”

You nodded at a skeleton sitting at a piano. “And Mr. Bones right there.”

Matt tilted his head. “There’s a motion sensor ahead. Probably there’s going to be a jump scare.”

“Well, it’s not a jump scare anymore,” you said, rolling your eyes. “How much of this can you sense, anyway?”

“It’s... kind of a confusing influx of sensory details. Different machines behind the walls for all the animatronics and music, weird smells coming from everything, and I can feel the shifts in air pressure when something’s moving. It’s all kind of a... bonfire of input.”

Sure enough, a vampire sprung out of a coffin moments later, and even with Matt’s warning you still flinched, heart skipping a beat when it shrieked at you. The layout of the mansion was narrow and winding; different hallways took you through a variety of different rooms and scares. Some of the sights were admittedly scary; an animatronic girl with stringy hair and an axe came flying out of the shadows, and even the floorboards and doors beside you would buckle unexpectedly as you passed by them. To your delight, one of the picture frames turned to life and even caught Matt off guard — you felt him stir slightly beside you. The path through the mansion took you up two flights of stairs, all the way to the top floor of the house.

“It’s a kitchen!” you said, admiring the decorations. “With — ew. Blood coming out of the faucet. And fingers baking in the oven.”

But Matt had his head tilted slightly towards the window. “Lightning’s about to strike,” he said suddenly, and true to his word, a massive flash lit up the entire room only a second later. The clap of thunder that followed was nearly simultaneous with the lightning, and rattled the mansion so hard that the window shook.

And that was when the mansion lost power. Everything, all at once, fell silent as though it had been muted, and you were plunged from shadowy, dim lighting into absolute pitch blackness.

“Matt?” you said uncertainly, reaching out for him and only finding empty space. The thought of all the things around you — amusing only moments ago — suddenly made your heart spike.

“Right here.” Matt grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Any light coming in at all?”

You waved your hand in front of your eyes. “Nothing. It’s like a black hole in here. And of course we left our phones in the car,” you grumbled, shifting closer to Matt. “A flashlight would be nice.”

“No light is coming in through the window?”

“Only when there’s lightning. And I don’t think there are many windows in this labyrinth.” Gingerly you stepped forward. “This is... not fun.”

“I’m personally very offended by how opposed you are to being visually impaired.”

You frowned. “You make fun of my bad hearing all the time — which, by the way, is not bad hearing, it’s simply normal-person hearing.”

“I think it’s bad hearing.”

“We’re allowed to make fun of each other’s senses,” you continued. “That’s the most important tenet of dating someone.”

“Oh, really? Then I’m free to tell you that you’ve got absolutely terrible common sense?”

“Ha, ha. You’re so clever,” you deadpanned. “Are we out of the creepy kitchen yet?"

“Yeah.” Matt nudged you to the right. “This way.”

“Are we close to the exit?”

“No. It’s probably another ten minute walk, at the very least.”

“Lovely. Why doesn’t this place have a generator?”

“It should. This could be a huge liability. If someone got hurt and decided to sue, the owners could easily get in trouble.”

“Only someone who had to endure the trauma of a bar exam would think about liabilities when the power goes out,” you said appreciatively. “So... we’ve got two flights of stairs to go down?”

“Three. The exit’s in the basement,” Matt said. “Watch out. There’s fake cobwebs ahead of us.”

You were glad for the warning, because the revolting sensation of gossamer threads brushing against your face would have otherwise been disturbing. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the hallway, and for a moment you were face-to-face with a ghastly clown that was grinning beside you. You yelped, nearly falling backwards into Matt. Adrenaline soared through you, and you couldn’t help but squint through the darkness in an attempt to make sure the clown wasn’t moving. It was to no avail — when the lightning was gone, so was any visibility.

“Take a deep breath,” Matt said, nudging you with his shoulder. “Your heart’s going a hundred miles an hour.”

“There’s a clown, Matt.”

“And he’s made of rubber, wood, and plastic.”

Lightning flashed again, and you winced at the clown’s companion, a bloody jester gloating on your left. “Are the haunted house workers coming in to help?”

“No. There’s only one worker, and based on the way her heart jumped with the power going out, I highly doubt she’s going to walk alone into a haunted mansion with all the lights off. Careful, the hallway twists a bit right here.” Matt gently guided you to the left. You went forward reluctantly, feeling that you were about to walk into something at any second despite your trust in Matt. “And there are two steps down right here.”

“Right where?” you asked, slowing to a halt.

“Right here, in front of us.”

Anxiously you edged your toe forward, feeling for the drop of the step. “This is incredibly creepy.”

“I’ll tell you when to step. Just keep going, and step downward when I say.” Matt tugged you forward, and you resisted, moving as carefully as possible until you were down the steps.

“I don’t like this,” you informed him. “Because I know for a fact that there are probably zombies or vampires or something in here.”

“Dolls, actually.”

“Oh, God. Are you serious?”

Matt laughed. “At least, I think they’re dolls. Ceramic faces, stringy hair, small size.” He took your hand and guided it in front of you. “Here. Want to feel one?”

“No!”

“There are lots of dolls in here. And it feels... dark. Wait.” Matt’s hand suddenly held yours more tightly.

“Well, I could’ve told you it’s dark in here.”

“No. I mean... a different type of dark.” Matt was silent, and you imagined he was cocking his head.

“What is it?” you asked, squinting around as though it would suddenly help you to see the surroundings.

“Something’s moving,” he whispered. “One of the dolls.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean a doll is moving,” he repeated. “Wait here—”

And then he pulled his hand away from yours, lost in the blackness of the house.

“Shit!” you yelped, hugging yourself. “Matt! Don’t leave me here!”

There was a small crash to your left, and then footsteps, slow and creaking, from behind you. Holy shit holy shit fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkk—

“Matt!” you shrieked. “Come back!”

And then, you felt something behind you, and the warm exhale of someone breathing near your ear. “Boo,” Matt said, in a low voice, and you automatically swung around so quickly with your fist that you would have socked him in the face, had he not caught your wrist first.

“Shit – sorry, I didn’t mean to almost punch you—” You stopped yourself, mid-apology. “What the hell, Matt? You’re awful! How could you do that to me?”

To your indignation, he actually chuckled, sounding so damn pleased with himself that you would’ve marched away and continued on your own if you could actually see. “You know, I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever heard your heart go.”

“Yeah, because you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.” Matt wrapped an arm around you as he continued steering you forward. “But you must have known that this was coming, sweetheart.”

“Um, no, I didn’t think I had it ‘coming’ because I thought I could trust my boyfriend to lead me out of a freaking pitch-black haunted mansion without trying to prank me like a five-year-old—”

“I couldn’t resist.”

“You couldn’t resist. Oh, well, that justifies it,” you grumbled, pushing at him again. “How much longer until we’re out of here?”

“Stairs to the first floor are right in front of us. Then we’re almost to the basement.” Matt dropped one of his hands so that it was on your lower back. “Your eyes haven’t adjusted at all?”

“I think the clouds are too thick for any moonlight to come through. And, of course, the lightning now decides to not flash at all.” You wished you could simply sense your surroundings like Matt could. “You’re amazing.”

“Weren’t you just saying I was awful?”

“No, really. I mean, the fact that you’re able to do all that you do, considering you can’t see; and me, the second I can’t see, I’m completely useless. It just makes me admire so much more the way that—”

“Stairs,” Matt warned. “Thirteen steps.”

“Thanks. But it just makes me admire so much more the way you... honed your senses, I guess. I mean, how many girls can brag that their blind boyfriend easily led them out of a haunted house with the navigation skills of someone with night-vision goggles?”

“It’s easier than you’d think.” Matt stopped suddenly, his fingers lightly raising to brush your upper arm and spin you so that your back was pressed into his chest. “Listen.”

You obeyed, falling as quiet as possible. Even this close to Matt, though, you couldn’t hear his heartbeat. “Matt, I’m not going to magically have your ability to hear well—”

“You don’t need my level of hearing,” Matt said. “Sometimes you just need to listen more closely. Hear that whistling?”

You focused. It was faint, but audible. “Yeah.”

“What’s that coming from?”

“Sounds like the wind coming through a vent.” Realization dawned on you. “Which means that there’s a wall in front of us.”

“Exactly. And did you hear that scuffle above us?”

“Yeah, that thump?” You hadn’t even paid attention to it until now. “It was probably that worker, right? Which means... we’re in the back lefthand corner of the house.”

“See? Easier than it seems,” Matt said, leaning in and kissing your temple. “You’re a natural, sweetheart.”

You smiled, feeling heat rise up your neck. “That’s really nice of you, but I know what you’re up to. You feel guilty for scaring me earlier and now you’re trying to make up for it with flattery.”

“Floor gets squishy right here,” Matt said suddenly, and you were glad for the warning as the wooden floorboards beneath your feet unexpectedly transitioned to foam. “They really went all-out with this haunted house.”

“Too bad we’re missing most of it. And... Matt, I love you for guiding me, but can we please slow down?” you said, leaning backwards to reduce the speed Matt was leading you at. “I feel like I’m about to walk into a wall.”

“Sorry.” Matt slowed his pace. “We’re almost out. You know, I’ll miss this a bit.”

“What, me being temporarily blind?”

“Yeah. Because you can’t see things like this coming.”

“Things like what—?”

But then Matt’s lips were on yours, passionate and hard, as he pressed you backwards into what was presumably a normal wall and hopefully not an upright coffin or anything gory. You made a small sound of surprise and kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Matt’s left hand cupped the back of your head, and his right groped underneath your shirt on your lower back; goosebumps ran up and down your arms.

And then, without warning, the lights flooded on, machines and animatronics beside you whirring to life. You jumped, heart skipping at the massive demon leering on the ceiling above you. Painted flames danced on the walls and a horned mannequin, eyes blinking and head rotating back and forth, grinned at you deviously. “Oh, God. We’re in Hell, I think.”

“We are? I wasn’t really paying attention.” Matt leaned in and kissed you one more time. “Your body was just a bit distracting.”

“Okay. New idea, Matt,” you said, staring at the fiery devil as it continued to sneer at you. “I see a really, really, really amazing photo opportunity. If the attendant lets me, I’m going to run and get my phone from the car quickly, then I’ll be back.”

“You’re going to abandon a blind man in a haunted mansion? How will I ever know where to go if you’re not allowed back inside to guide me?”

You laughed. “I’ll convince her to let me back in.”

And that was how, a week later, you happily received a photo print in the mail: Matt standing beside an animatronic devil, pointing at it with his thumb and smiling widely.

A/N: This is based off of a really neat haunted mansion that I visited on Prince Edward Island awhile back. Happy almost Halloween, everyone!

#daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #fluff #flufftober #flufftober 2023

413 notes · View notes

short-honey-badger · 9 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 16- Lavender 1

Alright, guys. I really hope you enjoy how I've gone about introducing Shanks to the reader. I'm not looking to complicate anything. I just want to have fun, and my two handsome boys deserve it.

Pairings. Reader x Shanks, Reader x Dracule Mihawk

Warnings! None. Shanks is flirty. Mihawk is only mentioned for now.

Masterlist

Shanks doesn’t expect to see an island this far out of the way of everything. It’s unnervingly close to the calm belt, and the Yonko probably would have never found it if he and his crew hadn’t been on a three-day bender after a successful raid on the last island. Maybe it was a little irresponsible of him and his crew, but sometimes he just liked to see where the Grand Line would take them. This tiny island was new, so that obviously meant that he and his crew should check it out.

Lucky Roux drops the anchor, and Shanks flashes to shore with his first and second mates. The island is on the smaller side, though a small mountain range rises in the west. The jungle is thick, and Shanks can hear all manner of wildlife within. The sands of the long beach they’ve landed on are beautiful and inviting, prompting a big grin to stretch over the redhead's face, “Get the booze, Benn. I think this will be the perfect place.”

The older man scoffs at his captain, but he has already turned around to begin shouting orders to the men. Shanks and Yasopp step further into the island, and that’s when the Yonko spots a small footpath that leads into the jungle. He nods his head to the path, and Yasopp unhooks his pistoles from his belt.

The two men follow the footpath for a while. It winds through the thick foliage until it empties out into a clearing. The sight isn’t something either man is expecting.

A cottage sits innocently in the middle of the clearing. Several sea glass wind chimes hang from the front stoop, and the tinkling melody is pleasant on his ears. Three chickens are clucking around, and even a moody-looking goat glares at them from its pen. A massive garden sits on the left side of the building, and Shanks can see smoke rising from the chimney. Yasopp gives his captain a look, only to jerk back around when they hear the door of the cottage swing open.

Shanks can hear music playing loudly from inside, a slow, bluesy tune that has his browns rising. No wonder whoever lived here had not heard the commotion he and his men made. A massive furry, grey mutt comes running out of the house, going straight after the chickens and sending the hens flying into the air. The rooster crows and chases after the dog, sending the mutt careening backward to run the other way. Last but not least, Shanks watches a young woman step out of the house.

His heart speeds up when he sees her. She is stunning, the sunlight bouncing off her hair and making her glow in the morning light. She is dressed in tight leggings and a loose but thick-looking sweater poncho, and Shanks wonders why the young woman would want to dress that way in such warm weather. He dismisses the thought and starts walking forward, a grin on his face as he opens his mouth to shout a greeting.

“Hello! We didn’t know that this island had already belonged to someone. We saw the foot trails at the beach and wanted to investigate.”

Shanks watches as you freeze in place, and his eyes widen just a tad when he sees snow flurries scatter around you. Huh, a devil fruit user all the way out here. He plasters an easy smile on his face and saunters forward only to stop when he catches the glare on the young woman’s face. He raised his hand in the air to show that he meant no harm.

“We didn’t mean to frighten you! I just wanted to see if it would be okay if my crew and I could crash here for a little while. Can I come closer to introduce myself and my friend here?”

The shaggy mutt seems to answer for you as he bounds forward and slams into Shanks. He grunts and keeps his footing, bending down to pet the dog, “You sure got a friendly mutt!”

You grimace as you watch your fool of a dog run right up to the red-haired stranger. You stomp forward, annoyed at having your day ruined by some unknown captain and his crew, but at least he was being friendly. You examine the man when you get close enough, taking in his beach bum outfit and shaggy red hair. His face is scruffy with unruly facial hair, and he has three scars over his left eye. When the wind blows, his cloak opens enough that you get a peek at the empty space on his left side. The way he held himself reminded you interestingly enough of Mihawk. Maybe that’s why you decided to humor the pirate.

“His name is Hank. How um. How long would you and your crew want to stay here?” You ask him as you come to a stop a safe distance away. The last people to come to your island had been the pirates that Mihawk had taken care of, so it unnerved you to have someone else show up.

Shanks shrugs, “For as long as you tolerate us,” he says with a handsome grin. You fight down the way your cheeks heat up when he directs that look right at you. He stands and offers you his hand, “I’m Shanks, and that’s my second mate, Yasopp.”

You reach to shake his hand, and a feeling of Deja vu settles over you when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Shanks winks at you, lips curling in a teasing smirk when you jerk your hand away from him. Quietly, you offer your name and give a small smile to Yasopp.

Shanks repeats your name slowly, tasting each syllable as he watches you step away. Your goat has escaped its pen and now stands at your side, beady eyes seeming to stare into his soul. You drop your hand on top of its head and scratch at where the horns grow out of its head, “Oh, this is Neal. He isn’t very fond of men, so you may want to steer clear of him.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Shanks snickers and waves Yasopp away, “Go on back to the ship. Tell the others that we are guests here.”

The dark-skinned man grinned and gave a quick salute and a goodbye to you before he loped off back through the jungle.

Now alone, Shanks shifts his weight and gives you an assessing look, “So. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all alone on an island so close to the Calm Belt?”

You lick your lips, filing the new bit of information away for later. Dracule had yet to tell you where your island was located. You had stopped asking a long time ago for maps and topography graphs, especially after Mihawk had told you about the more dangerous places and players inside the Grand Line. You were happy on your island, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to know where you were.

But now that you thought about it, you were 80% sure that the man in front of you was one of the few people that Dracule had warned you about. Red Haired Shanks, Captain of the Red Force, and one of the four Emporers of the Sea.

“I live here, have my whole life,” you tell him and settle for being vague. If Dracule told you to be wary, then be wary you would be.

Shanks makes a huh sound in the back of his throat, “Really? Seems pretty lonely out here,” He comments, and you shrug as an answer, “Will you show me around? You’ve got a lovely home.”

You can’t help but burn in pride at his comment. You are very fond of your home and all the work you’ve put into it, so you don’t think twice when you nod and begin to lead the captain to your home. Shanks follows with a smug grin, eyes flickering over your shapely legs as he follows you.

You don’t take him inside yet. Instead, you point out the gardens and flower beds that line your home and show him the view from the cliff behind the cottage. Neal had thankfully wandered back into his pen, but Hank seemed to have taken a liking to Shanks, for the big lug had yet to leave the pirate's side. You shoot him a look. Traitor.

Surprisingly, the redhead makes good conversation after getting over the awkwardness of the sudden visitation, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. He seemed genuine in his goodwill and cheer, and his lax behavior had you smiling and inviting him inside.

“Would you like some tea?” You ask after a moment of comfortable silence. Shanks easily agrees, and you lead him inside your home. Neal bleats and tries to bite Shanks when he passes the pen, and the redhead shoots the goat a glare.

You snicker at the sight and go about the kitchen to make your guest some tea. You avoid the peppermint, which is meant specifically for Mihawk, and instead settle on a strong lavender tea. You mix in sugar for both mugs and then hand it off to Shanks.

Shanks sips, humming at the taste and finding it not bad. He wasn’t usually a tea person, but he could be polite. He looks around your home, taking in the hanging herbs and the strings of peppers that crisscross by your windows. Your home looks straight out of a storybook, and the homey atmosphere has him sighing deeply, shoulders loose and relaxed. Shanks doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this in someone else’s presence. He takes another sip of the sweet-tasting drink and casts his eyes to the opening of the living room, and his gaze promptly zeros in on a familiar-looking coat.

It's a long coat, dark and made out of fine leather with intricate patterns sewn into the arms and along the sides. The inside is a deep dead, and Shanks knows in that instant that this is the young woman that his friend had spoken of all those months ago. No, he corrects, it’s been close to a year since the last time the two men had spoken. Two emotions war inside of him at once. Elation that this is the woman who had caught Mihawk's attention and pure green envy that the other man had found you first.

Shanks keeps his face clear of anything that might give him away and then knocks back his tea, placing it in the sink to be washed at a later time. You eye his sudden movements, and Shanks responds with an easy grin and a hand extended out to you. The pirate wouldn’t dare try and steal you away from his friend, but there was nothing wrong with the two of you getting to know one another in his eyes.

“Come meet my crew?” The redhead offers quietly. There is pressure in the air as if taking Shanks’ hand would open a new chapter in your life. You debate for a long time, looking up and catching his dark gaze. His eyes are like melted chocolate, so soft and inviting, and so much different from the only other man you know.

What would Mihawk think of you out there on the beach, mingling with a dangerous pirate crew? You knew who this man was and knew some of the rumors about him from Mihawk and Perona. But then you think, harder, and know that Dracule would never begrudge you having fun. He actively encouraged it whenever you became playful, though it was usually Perona that he would send after you.

You lick your lips and make a decision, reaching out to take Shanks’ hand.

“Okay. Just for a bit, though.”

Shanks grins like a hyena and wraps his fingers tight around your hand, “Sure thing, baby. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain tugs you out of your kitchen and then out of your home entirely, leading you down the path and to the beach so quickly that you don’t have the time to examine the new pet name or how it makes you feel. The redhead leads you to where his crew has already laid out cases of booze and food. Shanks grins at you and tugs you close, flurries exploding around the two of you when you fall into his side. He enjoys the wide-eyed look that you shoot him and then turns you towards his crew.

“Guys,” Shanks announces and winks, sending your cheeks up in flames, “this is,_, our host!”

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

158 notes · View notes

ultratradmalewife · 4 months

Text

One of the main reasons why I’m not too upset about 911 not showing how Tommy and Buck met is because, from a writers stand point, it would be a good scene for a Tommy Begins episode if we ever get there.

Just based on what I’ve heard people say about how Lou sees the character, and how the writers have been writing him, I think it’s safe to say a lonely upbringing can be an important part of that episode. So I figured their first meeting would be a good key point to see in it, but not just that. A lot of highlights of Tommy’s new connections (it might still be too early to call it family but it can get there) can be montaged like Chimney saving him, him apologizing to Hen (which hopefully also becomes a separate scene from this), him and Eddie and their friendship, and I don’t know what yet but something can be done for Bobby.

And I know a lot of fans who ship Buck and Tommy (and maybe some who don’t, but also want it) would like season 8 to start with a huge disaster that involves Tommy’s unit, and maybe for something to go wrong and we get worried Buck, but I think Tommy getting injured would make better sense if done so close to his Begins episode. Or at least if I was the one writing it that’s what I would do, because now knowing the string theory is out there, and it was done unintentionally it would make sense to play into it, and something about Buck running to Tommy’s side after being crashed into by something to mirror Thomas and Mitchell can lead into the episode.

It could be a life flashing before his eyes moment, but would the writers kill him? We don’t know. Hopefully not though.

#if this is already something close to a fic out there I’m sorry I don’t read much fanfiction #I just think about their first meeting a lot and wonder if there’s a way to circle back to it eventually #911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard

47 notes · View notes

hgroogingsupplies · 9 months

Text

HG Roofing Supplies are a leading supplier of roof insulation materials in the UK. Quality products for energy efficiency and comfort. Get a quote today!

#High-quality roofing supplies UK #Metal pichted roofing materials #Roof supplies store #Roofing felt suppliers West Yorkshire #Flat roof materials Leeds #Roofing accessories West Yorkshire #Best Fascias and soffits in Leeds #Roofing insulation materials Leeds #Roof insulation material supplier #Roofing sheets and panels #Metal roofing sheets UK #Lead Alternative Flashing #High-quality Lead Flashing Roll #Chimney pots West Yorkshire #Flat Roof Windows & Skylights #Roofing ventilation products Leeds #Roofing supplies Leeds #Leeds roofing materials #West Yorkshire roofing products #Roofing equipment Leeds #Roofing shingles Leeds #Guttering supplies West Yorkshire #Roofing tools Leeds #Roofing adhesives Leeds #Slate roofing tiles Leeds #Roofing nails West Yorkshire #Roofing membrane Leeds #EPDM rubber roofing Leeds #Skylight installation West Yorkshire #Metal roofing supplies Leeds

0 notes

typicalopposite · 3 months

Text

Soooooo this story has been kicking my BUTT mainly this first chapter and the build up to the actual story 👀 but i finally finished so does manyone wanna read chapter one of angsty break up/helicopter crash fic?

PLZ READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 1/? | 6713 words

Link to Prologue | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎: 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙… 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜

In all of Buck’s thirty three years there has never been another time that he recalls feeling so secure and at peace with his life. So at ease with not just himself, but with the happenings around him. Which is saying a lot given everything going on around him.

Gerard makes work miserable with his constant passive aggressiveness, and his snide comments… Buck knew to expect racism and sexism. He also knew to prepare himself for the blatant homophobia. It still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the first time Gerrard called him princess.

They have all filed complaint after complaint. Bobby is working tirelessly with the fire chief (whose head was gone over in bringing Gerrard back to the 118) to get him reinstated and back home. The team is rallying around each other to lessen the blows made at each of them by the person who is supposed to lead them, but only cares to bully and berate them.

But… at the end of his shift, Buck has Tommy to run home to. Not that they are actually living together— they do spend almost every night they have off together, though. He is the light at the end of a long dark tunnel. The calm after Buck’s 12, 24, or 48 hour storm. He is the breath of fresh air after inhaling far too much smoke. He is… just perfect.

Buck can’t believe how happy he is, how in love he is. The true meaning of happiness? Well Buck thinks it might just be tucked away safe in that soft loving smile Tommy is always giving him. Buck sees their whole lives flash before his eyes when he’s gifted that smile. Years and years, and years of living with this happiness? He definitely could get used to that. He is so lucky.

Or so he thought….

Their shift is (finally) almost over. Buck is laid out on the couch, staring at his phone. He isn’t even aware he’s smiling at his text thread with Tommy until Chimney comes up and knocks his feet off so he can sit down. “There’s only one person I know that could have Buckaroo smiling like that,” he says, his own cheesy grin taking over his face. “You heading over there after work?”

“Reverse,” Buck answers, hoping if he’s nonchalant enough the ridiculous blush he still gets talking about Tommy won’t show up. “He’s at my place—he’s uh… getting dinner started.” And there’s the damn blush anyway, running up his neck.

“I thought you said Tommy was a terrible cook,” Hen says, joining them and sitting on the arm of the couch behind Buck’s head. She tries to sneak a peek at the conversation but Buck drops the phone to his chest.

He sits up and looks at her offended. “Okay, one… eye’s to yourself, thank you very much.” She rolls her own eyes and picks up the throw pillow to hit him with. “Two… I would never say that!”

“And yet you’re not saying he’s not,” Chimney says with a smirk.

“He’s— he’s improving.”

The bell goes off. They all groan. “Better tell the wife you’re gonna be late Buckley,” Gerrard calls from the foot of the stairs.

The ride to the fire is quiet.

No one can ever say anything without Gerrard chiming in with his unwanted two cents. So they sit in silence unwilling to give him anything to use as fuel for another of his hate-filled remarks. Except today, Gerrard decides to initiate the conversation. “So Buckley,” he says; his lips curl up into the beginnings of one of his snarky smirks. “Have you ever lost someone on the job?”

His eyes zero in on his target; the bait to what Buck is certain will be some kind of trap dangling in front of him. “Haven’t we all? Kind of par for the course with this line of work,” Buck answers.

“Yeah, well, you have your typical run of the mill losses on the job; then you have the ones that tend to be a little more—” he pauses to lick his lips, like he’s savoring what he’s about to say. “—personal.” He continues to stare at Buck, whose skin feels like it's crawling under the intensity of it. He waits a beat and then: “Kinard ever tell you about his?”

There it is… the other shoe, heavy as it drops.

Buck doesn’t respond. He has heard a couple of Tommy’s work related horror stories; Buck has shared some of his own. Mostly they just leave work at their respective stations and spend the limited amount of time they get together not dwelling on the bad aspects of being a first responder. “Yeah I’ve heard them,” Buck says, hoping it will be dropped at that; or maybe they will get to the fire… He doesn’t think it’s ever taken this long to arrive on scene before.

“So he’s told you about Jay, then?”

Buck feels his face drop. He feels his brows furrow in confusion and his mouth pulls down before he can stop it. Everyone in the engine looks confused.

Gerrard, on the other hand, looks overly amused. “Ohh, guess he still doesn’t like to talk about him,” he says, and the engine screeches to a stop.

The fire is pretty intense, and everyone is drained afterwards. Thankfully, Gerrard doesn’t mention Tommy—or this Jay person—when they load up for the ride back to the station.

“Get out of your head, Buck…” Hen says quietly. He stops fumbling with the things in his locker, and looks back over his shoulder at her. “You’re letting him get to you. You can’t do that.”

“Yeah, kid, he’s a leech, he feeds on your emotions,” Chimney adds from beside him.

“B- but neither of you know who he’s talking about?”

Hen shakes her head, Chimney shrugs. “Tommy was here before either of us, maybe it was from back then.”

“He’s never mentioned this guy to you?” Eddie asks Buck.

“Never.”

“Then it’s probably no one important,” he continues. “Come on, it’s Tommy! Why would he keep something supposedly big from you?”

Buck’s tongue feels heavy. He wants to say: Maybe because I’m the one who’s not important enough to share it with. He knows that will not go over well with them, so he tucks it away with his other negative thoughts. “You’re probably right…” he does say.

“Of course I’m right,” Eddie smirks.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Ravi calls out to them as he walks backwards out of the station. “But I’m ready to get out of here! I love you all, but I need my two days of not seeing you.”

“I’ll see you boys later,” Hen says to Buck and Eddie. She is going to meet up with Karen and Denny so they can spend the day with Mara at the Buckley-Han household. It’s all she has talked about almost the entire shift.

Once Hen and Chimney are gone Eddie walks over and leans on the locker next to Buck’s. “Hen’s right, you know,” he says. “You gotta get out of your head about this, man. Before you start overthinking it.”

Buck sighs. He hangs his uniform up, and closes the locker. “Yeah,” he finally replies. “Yeah, I know—I will. It’s fine… I’m fine.”

~~~

A shift passes, then another. Soon it’s been a couple weeks. If Gerrard has plans to follow up his questioning about Tommy, and the accident, and Jay… and Buck not knowing about any of it, he hasn’t acted on them yet.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was just something to get under Buck's skin; plant the seeds of doubt that had never once been present before and set in motion the derailment of the most stable relationship Buck knows he’s ever had. He decides to remove it from the bin of thoughts that he randomly goes through and obsesses over, and fully let it go…

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

By mid September—following a lengthy investigation into exactly how Gerrard was put back in charge of the 118; that ended with multiple people losing their jobs, Gerrard included—Bobby was finally reinstated as their captain. It should be a joyous day. Gerrard is cleaning out his—well it’s no longer his—office. The whole team is gathered outside, ready to give him a great big good riddance for the final time.

Gerrard walks out, passing by each firefighter as if they weren’t even there, head still held high. He stops just as he is about to step out of the station, turns and locks his sight on Buck. “You ever ask Kinard about that accident?” He asks, narrowing his eyes menacingly. “Or are you too scared you might learn Prince Charming isn’t quite as Charming as he seems.”

Buck tenses his jaw, holding it firmly in place, fully prepared to not indulge in his taunting. He’s about to be gone for good; he only has to deal with him for a little bit longer.

Gerrard raises his brows, his smirk bordering on becoming manic. “Don’t believe me? Just ask your buddies. Han and Wilson have plenty of stories of their days as probies working with the real Tommy… before he went sweet.” Again Buck can feel his face furrowing in confusion before he can stop it.

“Don’t listen to him, Buck,” Hen says, putting herself between him and Gerrard. Chimney joins her, their backs to Gerrard who has made no more effort to just get lost (like Buck, and everyone else, wishes he would). “I told you he is just trying to get—”

“Oh, come now Henrietta,” Gerrard scoffs. “Don’t act like he didn’t put you down, and treat you like the maid, and less than him… just like everyone else—well, save for Han of course.” Gerrard turns his attention to Chimney, who is still not looking at him. “You haven’t told him about how Tommy treated you when you started… and only let up once you saved his life.”

“Alright that’s enough,” Bobby says, making his way to the front of the group, right up to Gerrard. “I don’t know what your motive is here, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”

There’s a short lived, but still intense, staring battle between the two men, with the entire team watching and holding their breath. Gerrard flicks his eyes from Bobby to Buck and his damned smirk returns. He doesn’t say another word, just turns and walks away. Ravi lets out a ‘whoop whoop’ causing an uproar of cheers and laughter from the entire 118.

It was a summer of hell under Gerrard, but now it’s over. Life can finally get back to normal… except— except now a can of worms has been opened. “What was he talking about,” Buck asks once the crowd disperses, and it’s just their little group standing by the engine.

Hen groans. “Buck, you’re letting him get to you.”

“But you’re not denying it—”

“Because it’s not important,” Chimney interrupts. “By the time I started Tommy had already been under Gerrard for a while; that man had his hooks so deep in him—in all of them. Besides, he has more than apologized for how he acted back then.”

“You do know he’s part of the reason Gerrard had to leave the 118 in the first place,” Hen adds. “He reported his behavior towards me. That’s the story you should care about, Buck. Or how he helped us with that neighborhood fire; saved Eddie and that kid's lives. Or how he risked his job to help us find Cap and ‘Thena… Not the things he has done that he has long been forgiven for.”

Buck knows it’s a losing argument; he doesn’t think he really wants to argue with them about it anyway. They’re right. Why let all this stuff an old bigot tried to resurface from Tommy’s past dictate their happy present. It shouldn’t matter; it doesn’t matter… if Chimney and Hen forgive him, that’s all that matters.

Except…

Except he knows himself well enough to know he isn’t going to be at ease until he at least figures out what the deal with this accident is all about, and who exactly Jay is.

~~~

“Babe, can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

Tommy leans out around the opened hood of his truck to look at him. “Of course,” he says, furrowing his brows slightly. Buck knows he has probably turned a shade of green from how sick to his stomach he feels about actually approaching this. Especially after being told repeatedly that he shouldn’t. Tommy sets his wrench down and grabs a rag to clean off his hands, walking out of the garage to Buck. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh—yeah, well, that’s just it… I don’t—” Buck pauses, takes a deep breath and just spits it out: “Tommy, who’s Jay?”

Tommy blinks. His face shifts from concerned to confused to something somewhere between anger and annoyance. “Where did you— How did you…” he sighs. “Let me guess. Gerrard?”

“Mhmm,” Buck hums with a small nod.

“That’s just—” Tommy starts, huffing out a sarcastic laugh as he roughly wipes the oil and grease from his hands. “That’s just great,” he finishes, angrily tossing the cloth at the floor. Buck waits patiently; he thinks he owes Tommy that much seeing as whatever—whoever—this is, it’s clearly something Tommy isn’t happy about Gerrard sharing. “I–” Tommy looks at Buck, his eyes suddenly turning red and he quickly wipes at them. “I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t…”

“You can’t?”

Tommy shakes his head hard. “I can’t talk about this–about him, not now… not yet. I–” He inhales sharp and it comes back out a broken sob. Buck is so taken aback, because Tommy rarely ever cries; Buck doesn’t think he’s ever seen him shed more than a few tears, and those were over happy moments.

One time was during some sappy—but with the saddest ending—romcom. Once when he found a dead cat in his backyard. And maybe the most emotional was when Buck slipped up during a particularly passionate kiss and told him that he loved him. Tommy’s face went so red, and Buck began to panic and then profusely apologize until Tommy took his face in his hands and said it back a single tear falling from his eye. Buck wiped it away and leaned back in to continue kissing him.

“Hey,” Buck says, feet quickly moving him across the cement toward Tommy. He slips his arms under Tommy’s, wrapping them around his back and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay… you don’t have to.”

“I’m—I’m sorry… It’s just… it’s too—”

Buck can feel the tears soaking through his shirt where Tommy has pressed his face to Buck’s shoulder. He feels like such a jerk. “No,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down Tommy’s back. “No, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have asked. I was letting Gerrard get in my head—I was being stupid…”

“You’re not being stupid, Evan,” Tommy says, muffled against the fabric of Buck’s shirt. “You were curious. I understand… It’s just–” Tommy pulls away, taking a step back. He wraps his own arms around himself, and it shocks Buck how small he seems right now. He slowly lifts his eyes to Buck’s, he looks broken (Buck hates himself for it) but mostly he looks worried. “This is—it’s really personal…” he says. “And I’m just not ready to share it yet.”

“That’s okay,” Buck quickly responds. “I understand, and I won’t bring it up again. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

A wave of relief visibly washes over Tommy’s face. The worried frown turns back into that familiar soft smile, and Buck tells himself he is one hundred percent fine with how this whole conversation turned out.

He is fine not knowing.

He is fine.

~~~

Time passes and it feels like the universe is playing the ultimate prank on one Evan Buckley.

On the outside everything has returned to normal. Everyone’s lives seem to have fallen back in line. Bobby is once again leading them, Hen and Karen get Mara back, Eddie convinces Christopher to come home (and they are both regularly going to therapy about the whole Kim/Shannon of it all), Chimney’s latest appointment shows no lingering effects of the encephalitis… but Buck— Buck is… struggling. He is struggling, and he feels so guilty about it, but he can’t get past it.

If it’s not seeing the name Jay in—damn near constant—passing, it’s hearing random stories about the people Tommy has saved (and knowing somewhere out there is a story of someone significant he didn’t). It’s the little signs, and the messages, and the ads he keeps seeing; an online quiz on ‘how well do you know your partner’, a billboard about getting out of an untrustworthy relationship, a commercial about not keeping secrets.

They mean nothing, he knows that. He’s self-sabotaging, he knows that.

It doesn’t stop him from collecting each one like trading cards and adding them to his bin of thoughts until it’s full and he has to do something or it’s going to overflow and drown him.

“You planning on spending your day off here, Buckaroo?”

“Hmm…” Buck blinks, breaking from his thoughts and looking up from his phone—more specifically from the text that just came in. Chimney is standing in front of him, arms crossed, brows pulled together. “Oh, hey Chim—I was just watching—” but the TV is now off. “Huh? I was watching TV.”

Chimney hums, tucking his hands further under his arms. “Is everything okay,” he asks. “You and Tommy… you good?”

“What? Yeah. We’re— Why— why would you think we weren’t? Has he—”

“Whoa now; calm down,” Chimney laughs, putting his hands up in defense. “Tommy hasn’t said anything. You just seem… distracted. Ever since—” He pauses. “I just want to make sure you’re not still dwelling on the crap Gerrard said.”

“Oh, I—” His phone feels extremely heavy in his hand now. He gets the reminder of the unread text. He should probably say something before Chimney gets suspicious. “I’m fine,” he lies, and it makes his stomach sour instantly.

Chimney doesn’t move—doesn’t look away. “You sure about that?” Buck nods, thinking he might be sick if he tries to say another word. “Okay,” Chimney sighs. “You know, Buck… we all have done things we aren’t proud of. I know I have…” Buck is reminded of an angry fist, and a swollen black eye Chimney apologized for everytime they were alone for almost a year.

He is reminded of a lawsuit he still regrets, and a tipsy kiss that unintentionally spiraled him into his second serious relationship. He is reminded of sudden nerves burying him deep into a closet he hadn’t even realized he had been in all along. He is reminded of reaching out for help spying on his boyfriend because he can’t get out of his own head about something that could very much be nothing.

His phone vibrates; another reminder he has an unread text.

He waits until Chimney disappears down the stairs to look back at his phone.

I’ll be home at 8… see you then

~~~

Buck parks his jeep outside the apartment complex, takes the stairs up to the third floor, and stands awkwardly outside apartment 3C contemplating turning around and running back down before he is spotted. He doesn’t, and instead lifts his hand to knock.

A couple days ago his thought’s overfilled the bin … a couple days ago he could no longer ignore his curiosity … a couple days ago Buck came to one of the only people who doesn’t know Tommy enough to be emotionally invested in this … investigation … Buck decided he needed to go on.

A moment later the door is pulled open, and May is in front of him. “Hey,” she says, her smile mirroring Athena’s. “Come in!”

“Uh— Hey,” Buck says back, subconsciously wiping the sweat forming on his hands, off. “So did— did you find anything?” Her smile fades, she shifts on her feet. “You did… Is it — is it that bad…” he asks, wondering if he will even be able to hear her response over the sudden pounding of his heart.

“It’s not necessarily good,” she replies. He wishes he actually hadn’t been able to hear her. He feels himself start to deflate.

May walks to her room, comes back with her laptop, stalls just as she’s about to hand it to him. “Wait,” she says, pulling the laptop back to her chest and holding it there. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean… why make trouble in paradise when there isn’t any?”

“Is it really paradise if he’s hiding stuff from me?”

May sighs, and opens her laptop. “I guess not,” she says once her password is entered and everything she found is pulled up.

The first thing she shows him is the article released the day of the accident.

Tragedy on the Vincent Thomas Bridge

Unidentified man jumps from bridge into LA Harbor late Tuesday afternoon.

LAFD station 118 responded to calls that a man had climbed over the bridge railing. Witnesses say Thomas Kinard (Pictured above) a firefighter with the 118 was on scene trying to talk the man off the edge before he let go, falling 186 feet into the Harbor below.

Buck looks at the picture of a much younger Tommy, dazed and disheveled, one hand running through his hair. He thinks, I know that look… I’ve had that look. He thinks of Devon falling to the ground from the roller coaster. Suddenly he is regretting everything about this. He clicks to the next article anyway.

LGBTQ+ Community Speak Out On Bridge Suicide

Following the death of Jay Pridgen, a member of the LGBT community, rumors began of prejudices within LAFD Station 118, who were present at the scene of the accident. The rumors are calling the stations Captain, Vincent Gerrard, out for repeatedly exhibiting biased behaviors when dealing with minority groups. When asked, Gerrard had no comment. Also under fire is the first responder who was on the bridge with Pridgen. Kinard is being accused of stalling rather than actually trying to get Pridgen off the edge.

Fire Chief Releases A Statement on Alleged Homophobia Within Station 118

Bridge Tragedy Officially Ruled An Accident

While it’s unclear what Pridgen’s original intentions were when he climbed over the railing of the Vincent Thomas Bridge, Firefighter Thomas Kinard went on record Friday insisting Pridgen did not jump but instead fell to his death. Kinard states he was trying to get to him but was unable to before he slipped from the edge. While there are some who still are hoping for an investigation into LAFD, specifically station 118, Captain Vincent Gerrard says he hopes this new cause of death will allow everyone to move on from this clear and complete accident so his team can get back to their jobs without having to deal with the torches and pitchforks coming for them daily.

“Wow…” Buck says softly. “That’s— That’s a lot.”

“That’s… not all,” May admits, clicking on yet another link. “So even though the accident itself is really terrible, it felt weird that he would hide it from you. I mean Tommy’s part of the community, it’s not like he really let this guy fall because he’s gay… right? So I kept digging and I found… this.” Buck holds his breath, May pulls up a picture. It’s an army Platoon, and upon closer inspection it’s Tommy’s platoon.

“I don’t understand,” Buck says.

“Once I had Jay’s full name I searched it together with Tommy’s… just to see if there were any more articles on the accident, but I found this picture instead.” She scrolls up to reveal the names of the soldier’s; the man in the middle next to Tommy, arm draped over his shoulder holding Tommy tight to his side… is Jay Pridgen.

“Oh my god… they— they knew each other?” And well that definitely adds a whole new layer to how traumatic Jay's death must have been. Buck sighs and closes May’s laptop. He thanks her for going through all the articles and everything for him, even if it feels wrong to thank someone for invading Tommy’s privacy.

He rides home in silence, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He feels crappy, and insensitive… he collapses onto his bed the second he reaches it. Maybe he can sleep on it and his head will be clearer in the morning. Honestly he thinks he would like to just forget about this whole thing; that sounds like a very good idea.

His phone dings.

A notification that Tommy tagged him in a photo. He opens it and is met with himself and Tommy, standing in front of a gorgeous sunset on the beach; bodies pressed against each other, noses touching and their lips just a breath away from a kiss. Yeah, he’s all mine <3 Buck feels the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he double taps the image watching the red heart bloom out from his thumb.

He is so happy. Why is he trying to ruin that for himself? He clicks on Tommy’s account, looking through all the pictures Tommy has posted of him, and of them together. A visual confirmation of the true meaning of happiness that Buck has finally found. Buck has liked them all already, so he just scrolls through them.

Next thing he knows he has gone back to before they met. Tommy didn't use social media that much, at least not in the recent years before they got together. He only has a handful of images from each year and some years there’s gaps where he didn’t post anything.

Buck doesn’t think he’s ever gone so deep into Tommy’s account before. He decides to go all the way back to the beginning and scroll up. He can’t help but laugh at how tiny Tommy looks in the very first pictures he posted; horrible quality shots of him showing off his baby muscles (compared to the ones he has now anyway), giving his best smolder for the camera. As he starts scrolling through them it’s so reminiscent of his own earlier days on the app, just thirst trap after thirst trap and Buck is kind of loving the experience.

He goes through them, liking each one, before he notices something that has him sitting up in his bed.

It’s a picture taken up in the snow; a picture taken in NorCal. Tommy's mom lives in NorCal so that’s not surprising… what is surprising is the top name on the list of likes. It’s Jay. Buck blinks at the name thinking the letters might shift and he’ll realize he’s just reading the username wrong; it’s JPridge82, he’s definitely not reading it wrong. He scrolls up to the next picture. Tommy with his mom; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in his 118 turnouts; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in bed clearly wrapped around another body, his eyes are half-lidded and tired, the caption reads wake me up before you go go; liked by JPridge82, and a comment… but you're so cute when you sleep, baby! Tommy replies: oh shut up! XD

It easily could be read as banter; he and Eddie play flirt like that all the time. Next picture: a restaurant table Buck recognizes oh too intimately. Think I found my new favorite Italian restaurant; liked by JPridge82 and replies: sameee

A picture of two shadows holding hands. Take my hand, take my whole life too. It’s askew enough you only see part of the bodies and then their hands (enough you can’t see their heights are the same, Buck thinks. That would have raised questions for sure.) Liked by JPridge82; aww baby look at us xoxo. Tommy replies: my god you are ridiculous

The inside of Tommy’s old truck, two coffee cups in the holders. Let’s get out of this town <3. Liked by JPridge82.

The next picture is a new thirst trap, of sorts. Tommy standing in the mirror shirtless. He isn’t flexing, or posing. Just standing there. No caption. No like by JPridge82, but there is a comment from Sal. Not the mopey instagram posts! She wasn’t for you, man! Let it go, you’ll find new ass in no time. Tommy didn’t respond.

The pictures slowly turn from selfies, to work related, to memes. Some of which are extremely questionable; putting down women, or minorities. Some are downright hateful. They are so unlike the Tommy he knows now. They are definitely giving Buck a look at this person Gerrard was referring to when he made the comment about Buck not knowing the “real” Tommy. He thinks of what Chimney and Hen said; that he has profusely apologized for how he was back when they started. Why hasn’t he taken them down then.

He sets his jaw, trying to not let the annoyance building set him off, and goes back to the last picture Jay liked. He clicks on the username. “Dammit,” he mumbles out loud. His account is private.

He gets an idea.

It’s one that on a typical day he would be annoyed with himself for having… but it’s almost three in the morning he is running off pure adrenaline now and he isn’t thinking like he typically would… he logs out of his own Instagram and logs into Tommy’s.

It’s not that he was being sneaky and eavesdropped on Tommy entering his password, Tommy literally typed it out right in front of him. He had taken a picture of them and needed to log in to post it. He is always saying he has nothing to hide from Buck… Seems like he had one thing to hide.

Buck’s heart is pounding into his ears as he opens Tommy’s followers list. Maybe they weren’t even following each other anymore, Buck thinks, his thumb lingering over the search bar. Maybe he should just back out of this while he’s still somewhat in the dark, before he brings to light something he doesn’t want to know.

JPridge82.

Buck feels his heart completely stop beating. He shouldn’t do this. Hell, he shouldn’t be on Tommy’s instagram in the first place. He clicks on the name anyway. Immediately his suspensions are answered. Private accounts come with freedom; freedom to share whatever you want because you control who can see it. And Jay didn’t have that many followers, so they likely all knew the truth.

Jay’s photo bin looks eerily similar to how Tommy’s account looks now, except its picture after picture of Tommy and Jay together.

One in bed, Tommy’s head resting on Jay’s chest. One from what must have been a hike, far from any peeping eyes; a kiss in front of a waterfall. Their hands clasped together over the center console of one of their cars. A movie date; Buck and Tommy have still never made up their missed movie date, never had the time. He doesn’t mean for the jealousy that starts to bloom deep in his chest, but it’s there and he is too drained to even attempt to push it away.

He wonders why Tommy wouldn’t tell him about such a pivotal time of his life.

My Forever <3 Jay captions a picture of Tommy staring out at the ocean, his hair wet and tousled like he just came out of the water.

Buck looks through the pictures, each one feeling like a stab to the chest—this was not meant for him to see. This was something beautiful Tommy had… and lost… and he wanted to keep it to himself. But Buck can never leave well enough alone, and he took that decision from Tommy.

He is about to close his phone when he sees Jay’s last post isn’t a picture but text.

I wish I had been enough of a reason for you to stop lying about who you are. Posted — August 8, 2010. A week before the accident.

Buck closes his phone, but he doesn’t—he can’t—go to sleep.

~~~

There’s a knock on his door.

Buck wishes he could just hide under his covers and pretend he doesn’t hear it; he knows exactly who it is.

He spent his first day off avoiding Tommy. He had hoped Tommy hadn’t caught on; he was working a 24 and from the already scarcity of his calls and texts, it seemed the shift was a busy one. Usually as soon as Tommy is suspicious of Buck’s behavior he will go hide somewhere so he can call—and will repeatedly call—to figure out what’s wrong. He hasn’t pressed once as Buck went through literally every excuse in the book as to why he wasn’t able to talk, and he has seemed just as unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm in all of Buck’s texts.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Another knock. He could continue to ignore it, but Tommy has a key.

Buck groans and pushes off his bed, taking the steps one at a time for once; no reason other than to prolong reaching the door. “Hey baby,” Tommy says, cheery and bright, the second Buck opens it. “Were you sleeping?”

I wish, Buck thinks. “I… was,” Buck lies. “What’s all this…”

In Tommy’s hands there’s a huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a card. He hands Buck the card first. “Uh— let’s call it an… it seems like I’ve done something and haven’t realized what it is yet… surprise.” Buck can’t help the laugh that escapes him. What does he say to that… yeah you have, I just haven’t rationalized whether I truly deserve to be mad at you about it or not. “So… go on, read it.”

Buck sighs, finally looking down at the card in his hands. My forever is written in Tommy’s small ridiculously neat handwriting with a heart at the end. He stares at the card, his mind going right back to a private account and a picture captioned My Forever <3.

“I— I know… cheesy right?”

Buck breaks his eyes away from the words, bringing them up to Tommy’s. “Why— why would you put that…”

“Uhm—” Tommy looks at him confused, if not a little hurt. “I mean… I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be so on the nose… but that is what I see with you… if you don’t—”

“Is that what you saw with Jay too?” Buck asks before he can stop himself.

Tommy’s eyes widen, he steps back. “What…”

Buck has been here before. Putting himself in an awkward situation and so yet his mouth still starts moving against his better judgment. “I mean… that’s what he saw with you… but maybe it was only one-sided.” Tommy doesn’t speak, continuing to stare at Buck like he has grown a second head. Might as well rip the bandaid off, he thinks; shrugs. “You didn’t want to talk about him… so I just found out myself. It’s not like it’s hard to pull up an old news article.”

“You— but how did you get on his—” Tommy blinks, a new look crossing his face; he knows what Buck did. It should make Buck feel bad; it does make him feel bad… but it also makes him feel defensive. He deserved to know—if only he truly believed that.

“I’ve told you everything, Tommy!” He snaps. “I’ve told you all about my past, all my relationships, Daniel. Every sad, and hard, and embarrassing, and traumatic experience… I told you. But you... You’re this big mystery. You don’t talk about anything. The only thing you’ve told me about your past is that it makes you jealous of mine…” The tension in Tommy’s face has gone slack, and he’s just taking the lecture with calmness; meanwhile Buck’s heart is about to pound out of his chest and his skin has gone hot and numb. “But did you ever think that maybe the reason we’re like a family is because we treat each other like equals. Instead of like some of them are beneath us...”

That gets him a reaction; finally, he thinks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you and Chimney and Hen always got along… like you didn’t follow Gerrard’s lead when they first started…” Tommy looks at him like a kicked puppy; Buck internally screams at himself that it’s enough. It’s not enough, he adds: “Not to mention all the crap you used to share. That you probably got a good laugh about with all your buddies at the expense of others.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Tommy cries.

Buck sees red, throwing the unopened card down on the table and storming up to his phone. He doesn’t even log out of Tommy’s account, just finds the memes and shoves them in his face. “This is what you think is funny?”

“Evan, these are— do you even realize how long ago this was?!”

“What difference does that make!?” Buck screams back.

Tommy sighs, and hands Buck back his phone. “No… you’re— you’re right. It doesn’t make a difference… it doesn’t make it okay.”

Buck thinks he’s said enough. He has revealed what he knows. “So is that what happened with you and Jay…” he says instead… the words sliding their way out of his mouth and he can’t stop them. “He couldn’t live a lie any more… couldn’t live your lie anymore.” It’s rolling off his tongue so easily, it actually disgusts him. But the words pass his lips and he watches the exact moment they slap Tommy across the face and the man gasps like he’d actually just been assaulted. His eyes instantly fill with tears and he has to break his eyes from Buck in an attempt to blink them away.

“You— you have no idea what you're talking about, Evan. You had no right to…”

“To what? Question if I really know the man I was considering spending the rest of my life with? I’ve been through this, Tommy, too many times. You think you know someone… and it turns out you don’t.”

“How can you even say that?!” Tommy all but screams, rubbing the back of his hand—still holding on to the bottle of wine—over his eyes and nose. “Okay yeah, I didn’t tell you about a really hard time in my life… and maybe given everything surrounding it I should have. Maybe I should have even told you about how it was when Howie and Hen first started. And yes, I should have gone through and deleted all those posts a long time ago… But to say you don’t really know me? Those things don’t define me!”

“They sure say a lot though…”

Tommy goes silent. He takes a few calming breaths, fresh tears in his eyes and trails running down both cheeks. “So— so what is this— what are we— what does this mean, then… for us?”

Buck shrugs. “That maybe I'm not your forever,” he says, tightening his jaw so it won’t betray the stone cold persona he is trying to uphold by trembling.

Tommy freezes, the bottle of wine and roses he’s still holding suddenly seem so out of place. “You don’t mean—” he starts; he searches Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to find a different answer. He doesn’t seem to find one. “Really?” Buck doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t take it back either. He just swallows around the lump forming in his throat and manages to hold his composure. “Okay… if that’s—” he shifts on his feet, breaking away from Buck’s eyes; Buck is grateful for it. “O- Okay.”

He sits the roses and wine on the table by the card and turns for the door. “You— you don’t need to leave those…” Buck manages to say; it sounds so petty, it disgusts him.

Tommy opens the door and turns back to the roses. “Think of it as… a goodbye gift,” he says, quietly, giving a halfhearted laugh. He turns his head farther, so he is again looking at Buck, giving him one more chance to take it back. He doesn’t. “Good-bye, Buck,” Tommy says and pulls the door closed behind him.

32 notes · View notes