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misterier · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can I request enemies to lovers relationship with Jack Marston and tall Male reader? (Or at least taller than him). It doesn't have to be long, head cannons are fine :)

oo yeah ofc!! I went for head cannons in storyish form so it hope it's not too goofy, also my dyslexic ass read john at first so sorry it took a bit

high honor jack marston is my pookie the idea of him with low honor hurts me so high honor it is

also sorry for pushing the charthur agenda but it's burned deep within my soul, I must release it

also spoilers ig for the first & second game but if your requesting jack you prolly already know all that

i grew up lovin' the marstons and they mean the world to me sorry if i get rambly and long with his hcs</3

Jack Marston<3

-With Jack, it's more rivels than actual enemies, and it likely starts when the two of you are teens; maybe you live in some ranch across from his.

-Your mothers or dads are friends, so they're a little concerned. As far as they know, two teenagers forced to hang out should be great friends.

-Jack is 100% a little mama's boy, so when he's not hiding out reading, he's helping her do housework and complaining about you. It's not like he's got a good reason to hate you either; he just doesn't like you.

-Abigail's heard, John's heard, Uncles heard, and even the dog has heard.

-The entire dinner table is tired of his constant whining about hating your 'annoying' ass.

-Hell, even his aunts have heard whenever they ask about his nonexistent social life, Mary-Beth seems to think it's a crush the way he gets so flustered, rambling on about how much he hates you, but he denies it in an instant.

-Equally, you hate him as well, bragging about your height difference. Every time you're forced over to his house to hang out with him in his room (despite his pleading to not leave him alone with you), you'll put his books on the highest shelves.

-His father was once given permission, and assuming some quality time together would fix your relationship, he takes the two of you fishing. (Jack, of course, complains, asking why he was stuck doing the two things he hates most, fishing and spending time with you.)

-During that trip, John warns you to look out for branches so you don't bash your head in. Jack prays you would so you'd shut up and stop looking at him like that.

-Whenever Charles is able to visit them, sometimes Jack will find him and his mother talking outside in the dead of night, speaking of a man he can only just barely remember the silhouette of--Jack sometimes is glad he can't remember those days when he sees how frustrated his father gets about his past—mostly when his mother mentions the man who had apparently been like his father's brother. It's a painful name to speak in their house, and he refuses to even ask anymore now that they hardly mention him anymore.

-The gist of you and Jack's fighting is just petty arguments and insults. His mother warns him about things like that, saying it's not healthy for a boy his age to be so bitter towards another who's done nothing to him, insisting he tries to make friends.

-He tries to listen to his mother; as much as he teases her, just like his father, he respects her greatly and looks up to her, and if she told him to do something, he'd do his very best to listen to her wishes.

-Jack does a bit better at keeping his insults to a minimum. The two of you are nothing near friends, but y'all slowly stop it with actual hurtful comments.

-Just like annoying ol' uncle grew on his father, he was beginning to tolerate your presence until he and his mother were taken by the government while his father hunted down his old 'family'.

-Once they're home, you're not around anymore, and neither are your parents. You moved due to fear of being caught up in all that, and he's bitter about it.

-The day John and Uncle die, your family sends their condolences.

-For as long as his mother is alive, he does his damnedest to keep the ranch alive and working despite her deteriorating health. Tilly visits a bit more when Abigail gets worse, and her husband tries to help—a respectable man even with his high class—though Jack refuses, wanting to take care of it all himself.

-The day his mother dies breaks him--the only blood family he had left.

-He enhatrets all his fathers' things, nobody to stop him from looking through it, he finds journals, and he reads the older one first confused by the handwriting that he was sure wasn't his fathers chicken scratch, but he reads it anyway, admiring each drawing and word, some even speaking about the writers conflicted feelings about still longing for a woman but beginning to feel himself crave a man, willing to let go of her if it means he has the chance to be happy again--queerness had never been something shamed upon or uncommon in his house, he'd heard of it from hangings and his parents speaking about it being wrong that they'd be hung for love--telling Jack that he shouldn't be afraid to love who he wants and to fight for it.

-The fancy writing nearly seems to abruptly stop when things begin to get dark. Switching to his father's writing gives him an appreciation for his father and what he's been through, but even through that, he can't help but crave revenge. He always was an angry young man.

-He wants to put Edgar Ross' death behind him, trying to be a functioning man of society as his mother wanted for him, though his hand still itched for his gun.

-The land was becoming too dry; there wasn't much he could keep alive, and he needed money, so he decided to try and find work. Not many would take him due to his father's name, so he usually hangs around the blackwater bar to sleep in the rooms above it, only visiting his home on weekends to take care of the house and the graves.

-Eventually he finds work, by some old fella speakin' about how desperate this man was for a ranch hand and how it was nearly sad how much they needed it.

-Late at night, he shows up on your doorstep, looking for work after all these years. You would have laughed in his face if it wasn't obvious how much both of you needed this.

-Similar to Bonnie and John's situation He lived on your property for a while, though there was enough room in your house for him, so he worked for you and slept in the guest room.

-There's no room to argue like you did as children. though only nineteen, the two of you are much more grown than you'd like to be with both of your families gone. Now it's only a few quips and jabs.

-There's no women working for your ranch, so you have to trade 'womanly' chores. Jack used to help his mother with hers, so he doesn't mind, but he forces you to help as well.

-You two become friends, despite still bullying each other a little. Him joking about you hitting your head when walking into the barn (you're tall, but not THAT tall), and you telling him his eyes will go bad from staring at those small print books all day.

-The closer friends you two become, the more possible your relationship is to become romantic. Neither of you are sure when you figured out you were in love with each other; it sort of just happened.

-You kissed his cheek goodnight once before you parted ways with him in the living room to return to your bedroom eary and it became tradition. For months, that was how the two of you parted. The next day, before he left to go back to his family's ranch to clean it up, he called you over to his horse—taller than you—for once and kissed your forehead before turning quickly and spurring his horse off.

-As socially awkward as he is, he's very open, flirting with you, not very romantic, but then again, you two aren't exactly romantic; if anything, your relationship is more of a mean friends with benefits kind of situation.

-If you genuinely want to call it a relationship, you'll have to bring it up to him, or he won't really notice or care.

-If you want to be lovers, he'll accept it. You two still have separate rooms, and yet you fall asleep in his most of the time.

-Even if you can read, he likes reading you, with his back against the headboard and your head on his shoulder. he likes feeling taller than you, though he obviously isn't.

-This man tried nailing broken boot heels to his to make him taller and ended up twisting his ankle and falling flat on his face.

-Learns to deal with and accept the fact your taller, though hes unnaturally bitter.

-Everytime he heads home, times becoming less frequent now. He sits at the foot of his mother's grave and talks about you and his life; he brought you once but never did it again, he prefers his visits to his family's graves to be private.

-Even years into your relationship, he won't stop praying you'll bash your head on the doorframe. The day you do, he marks it on his callender and calls it the day he became a happy man, ignoring your unofficial anniversary and calling it a close second.

#jack marston #jack marston x male reader #jack marston/male reader #rdr1 x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #jack marston x reader #kacey cant tag for the life of him #im alive omg

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team-118 · 28 days ago

Text

chemical override

2.4k words, buddie, buckley-diaz family, first kiss, getting together (for realsies this time!), rated t

With blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes over a criminally well-fitted red suit, he could almost be mistaken for Buck, if not for the way he takes Eddie in, slow and savoring it. When their eyes meet, Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Two strangers meet at an LAFD celebration themed as a masquerade ball. They already know everything about each other.

read it on ao3.

for @prettysophist from the halloween prompt list for the prompt 'masks'

Despite what recent events might lead you to believe, Eddie does actually know that he's attractive. He's never really leaned into it, but he’s not unaware.

Unlike Buck, who is unaware. Buck who broke up with Tommy alarmingly quickly once Eddie quietly mentioned his sexuality at breakfast with the 118 two weeks ago. Who had dinner warm and waiting on the table when Eddie flew back from El Paso, Christopher in tow, one week ago. Who kissed Christopher's forehead and hugged him as tight as Eddie had as soon as he saw his son again, who met Eddie’s gaze over Chris's disgruntled head. For a split second, Eddie had almost let the thought in. Maybe Buck…him and Buck…and then the moment passed, and then a week passed, and nothing happened.

And listen, it's been two weeks. Actually, it's been at least six months. Well, if he's honest, it's probably been something like seven years, and if it isn't going to happen, Eddie will get over it. If Buck isn't attracted to him - if Buck doesn't want him - that doesn't actually change anything.

At least, that's what Eddie tells himself as he takes a razor to his mustache, gentle but vicious, and gets himself dressed. Sharp line of his shoulders, deep red shirt complementing his skin, and Carla even helps him out with his hair, because she's better than Eddie could ever compensate her for.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she holds her hand out for a high five from Christopher. “Not bad, hm?” she asks him.

Eddie poses with his hands out, eyebrows raised.

“Don't do that,” Christopher says immediately. He hands Eddie the masquerade mask that matches his suit. “And don't forget this.” Chris leans into Carla, returning her high five before fixing Eddie with a stern look. His smile gives him away, though. “Win something cool, Dad.”

“Yessir,” Eddie salutes, and then it's hugs and kisses and out the door.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck wishes Eddie were here. Doesn't matter how cool the staff events at the LAFD get (ha), they're always better with his best friend next to him. Buck got tickets way late, though, and he’s sure Eddie is busy with Chris tonight anyway. After Eddie came out, after El Paso, Buck didn't see the point in lying to himself anymore. He thought…well, if there was any time for them to finally fall together, it seemed like the right one. But Buck wasn't going to pressure Eddie into anything, especially on the heels of the summer they just had. And when Eddie didn't make a move, Buck tried to get it through his head: he doesn't want you. He doesn't.

But Buck wants Eddie. Buck wants Eddie smiling over dinner, wants him sitting across from Christopher, wants him next to Buck at staff events, wants him everywhere and every way he isn't.

So he slips into a suit he hasn't even seen since poker with Eddie, he spends entirely too much time on his hair, he pulls the masquerade mask over his eyes and challenges himself to thirty consecutive seconds of thinking about literally anything except Eddie for the night.

It's not going well.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

It's almost impressive how quickly Eddie gets used to the mask. Then again - he contemplates the last twenty something years of his life and almost wants to laugh, morbidly - maybe it isn't. Unlike the one he's been wearing his whole life, though, this mask is freeing. He could be anybody, in a crowd of anybodies - but he's Eddie, and he knows it so well now, sees the full picture so clearly. He catches his reflection in the doorway, and he feels powerful.

The LAFD's Recognition of Excellence awards are held in some lavish building in downtown LA this fall. Eddie thinks the masquerade ball theme is kind of cheesy, but he does have to admit that the crowd showed up and showed out. Light refracts through crystal and bounces off the metallic masks packed into the massive ballroom, making everything feel brighter.

“Damn, if I'd known the competition was this steep, I'd have tried a little harder,” a voice drawls from behind him.

Eddie turns, looks the man up and down. With blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes over a criminally well-fitted red suit, he could almost be mistaken for Buck, if not for the way he takes Eddie in, slow and savoring it. When their eyes meet, Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“No competition here,” Eddie replies evenly. Then he takes a deep breath, lets himself say what he's thinking. “And if this is low effort for you, I'm in trouble.”

Red Suit's smile turns a little wicked. “You can have as much effort as you'd like.”

Fucking hell. Eddie clears his throat. “You're a firefighter?”

“What, you think I snuck in?”

Even his laugh sounds like Buck’s, but darker, coloured by whatever the hell is happening between them right now. Eddie’s so fucked. “Just trying to judge how hard I'll need to work to impress you.”

Red suit gets closer. “Stick with me tonight, let's find out.”

What the hell. Eddie grabs his hand and pulls him to the bar.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck spotted the guy the second he walked in - the lethal cut of his pants, shoulders set with the easy confidence of someone who knows he belongs. When he turns at Buck's words, Buck blinks away the image of Eddie. He drinks in the warm brown eyes and feels himself slipping into a comfortable, old stance. Someone Eddie never had the chance to meet. Thirty fucking seconds, he reminds himself, and lets himself be dragged to the bar.

Brown Eyes is a remarkably good distraction, so long as Buck doesn't let himself think about why the first guy who caught his attention could be Eddie’s identical twin. He keeps pace with Buck, pushes and pulls deliciously until all Buck can feel is the warmth of the lights, the crowd, the brown eyes on his body. He pops another button loose. Sue him.

“Craziest call,” he challenges, leaning forward to keep that warm gaze on him.

He's met with a huff, an exasperated kind of laugh. It sounds like Eddie’s. Buck loves it. “There was that plane landing on the highway last month.”

“No shit?” Buck asks. “We were there, too.”

“Yeah? Maybe we passed each other by.”

“Talk about fate.”

Brown Eyes snorts. “Half the LAFD was there.”

“And you're the only one here now.”

“Arguably, half the LAFD is here, too.”

This guy. Buck laughs, despite himself. “Let me have this, man.”

“Oh, sure,” his new friend smirks, and Buck wants to bite the corner of it. “Take what you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

When the stranger looks up, his eyes are dark and a little wild under his mask. His cheeks are flushed, and it matches the mask so well. Buck wants to know if it extends under the mask. If it extends anywhere else. There's a little mole under his eye. Fuck, when did they get so close? They're nose to nose. Buck can hear his own heartbeat.

“I'll risk it,” the stranger breathes, and he hesitates for a second longer, opening his mouth to speak.

Buck kisses his next words right off his tongue.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Eddie’s already pushing Red Suit up against the pristine marble bathroom counter by the time his brain comes back online.

As far as ideas go, he's had better - making out with a colleague whose name he hasn't bothered to learn at the edge of a staff event probably doesn't make the top ten. But then broad hands are covering his shoulders, pulling him close, and when long legs hook around Eddie’s hips he kind of forgets to worry about it.

The man under him gives as good as he gets. Eddie pulls back to study his partner’s face, black masquerade mask striking against the thin ring of blue surrounding his blown irises. His lips are spit-slick and shiny, panting. He looks so much like Buck - the thought appears again - and Eddie’s stomach does a fucking somersault. Eddie pulls him in closer by the sides of his face, brushing the fluffy curls off his forehead briefly. He catches a tiny glimpse of pink.

“Take this off,” Red Suit groans, tugging at Eddie's buttons.

Eddie laughs. “Easy, tiger,” he placates, reaching up to get his partner's suit off first. He pulls the jacket off, revealing a tight black shirt to match the mask, sleeves rolled to the forearms. Red Suit reaches for Eddie, gets his shirt unbuttoned enough for the chain around his neck to slip out.

And then three things happen in quick succession.

“Wait,” Eddie says, hands going still as he recognizes the black band tattooed on the arm under him.

“Oh, fuck me,” Buck breathes as Eddie’s St. Christopher pendant lands on his half-bare chest.

“...for extraordinary partnership and exceptional teamwork in times of duress, Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley!” Chief Simpson’s voice booms over a microphone in the distance. There's a smattering of applause, fading into confused silence.

Eddie stares into his best friend’s wide eyes - his best friend, whose tongue was just recently down his fucking throat - and his mouth drops open. “I,” he starts.

Buck gapes back at him. “You shaved your fucking mustache?”

“Buck,” Eddie tries again. He can't remember how to make words form.

“Without telling me?” Buck screeches.

“Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley,” Chief Simpson calls over the microphone again. “That's weird, I have them both RSVP’d,” comes quieter.

Eddie reboots. “Oh my god,” he gasps. He pulls at Buck’s jacket helplessly, trying to tug it back over his shoulders. “Oh my god, Buck, we have to get out there.”

Buck’s still frozen. “But when did you…?”

“Buck!” Eddie grabs his face, looks him square in the eyes. Buck’s breath stutters. Eddie releases him just as quickly, cheeks burning. “Put your jacket on. I am not facing half the department like this.”

He watches Buck’s vision clear, sees him come back online. “Oh, shit.”

As they stumble out the door, Eddie catches a glimpse of them in the bathroom mirror. Hair wild, eyes wilder, shirts rucked up and wearing matching blushes, there's nothing inconspicuous about them.

Eddie grins so wide his cheeks hurt as he pushes his best friend onstage.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck bites the inside of his cheek to make sure he isn't having some kind of fucked up hallucination-nightmare-dream, and then there's a mic in his face and a spotlight in his eyes.

“Thank you, Chief Simpson,” he says like his heart isn't in his throat. “Eddie and I have spent years building and strengthening our partnership. We are forever grateful to our LAFD family for their part in…”

Honestly, he blacks out a little, after that. He adds some stuff about the 118, pulls something out of his ass about taking pride in their work, and tries not to make his heart eyes too obvious. He doesn't look at Eddie, but he is so incredibly aware of him.

Buck stumbles off the stage, who knows how many minutes later, and by the time he’s outside the venue he's dizzy. He looks around, but he can't find-

“Buck.”

He whirls around. “Eddie.”

They sit heavily on the cold stone steps in front of the building. Their shoulders are inches apart. Buck’s never felt further from Eddie.

“Listen,” he starts. “We can just- I'll Uber home, and we don't have to talk about it again, I'll just-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, soft but firm. He turns, goes to put his hand on Buck's shoulder, then keeps reaching up.

“Man,” he laughs lightly. “Can I take this thing off?”

When Buck nods, Eddie lifts Buck’s mask over his eyes until it rests on top of his head. Eddie tugs his own mask off, too.

“Come home with me,” Eddie tells him.

“Eds-”

“It wasn't an accident, Buck. I mean, if I'd known…” he trails off. “I just didn't think you were interested.”

Buck laughs incredulously. “‘Cause I've been so casual about it?”

Eddie's smile is wry. “You've never been as forward as you were tonight.”

“I was trying to give you time,” Buck says weakly, pulling his knees under his chin. “I didn't want to scare you off.”

“You could never. Buck, you could never.” Eddie promises. “Not after this long.”

“I just - I thought you wanted -”

Eddie gets his finger under Buck’s chin, tilts it up towards him, and Buck loses his breath again. Framed by the stars and the sparkling building behind them, cheeks flushed from the cold, Eddie’s so fucking beautiful. He’s Buck's best friend. He’s Buck’s whole life. “What do you want?” Eddie asks.

“This,” Buck whispers. “This, forever.”

Eddie smiles. He's everything, he's fucking everything.

“What about you?” Buck says, braver. “What do you want?”

And oh, that's easy. “You,” Eddie grins.

When Eddie leans in again, Buck watches his brown eyes melt until his own flutter closed. Without the masks in the way, the kiss burns Buck to his core, warmth spreading through him like hot chocolate. Eddie’s in his veins.

It takes them ten minutes longer than it should to get home, because Buck keeps kissing Eddie senseless at the red lights.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Carla greets Eddie with a hug and Buck with a kiss on the cheek.

“Come by more often,” she insists, and Buck grins.

“I think I will,” he tells her.

“You two stayed out of trouble?” She asks Eddie on her way out.

“Don't we always?” He replies, innocent as ever. She laughs all the way down the driveway.

Eddie kisses Buck once more, chaste, just to see him turn pink. He laces their fingers together and pulls him towards Chris's room.

When Chris says to come in, he's already in bed, lights dimmed and Percy Jackson book hastily pushed under his pillow.

“Better not be reading ahead without me,” Buck says, kissing his forehead and pulling the book away.

“Hey, Buck,” Chris smiles. He doesn't look surprised to see Buck, but then again, why would he? “I was rereading, I swear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you win something cool, Dad?”

Eddie laughs, kneeling next to Buck. “Sure did, bud.”

“Good,” Chris yawns. “Tell me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“Night, Dad. Night, Buck,” Chris manages, and then he's out like a light.

Eddie steps out and closes the door behind them. Buck starts for the couch, but Eddie grabs his hand.

“Come on,” Eddie insists. He pulls them into his bedroom, Buck trailing behind.

Eddie stops in his tracks. “Shit, wait,” he says, and Buck freezes.

Eddie reaches into Buck’s jacket pocket and pulls out their two masquerade masks. “Okay, all set,” he smiles brightly.

“Oh my god,” Buck pushes him into the bedroom, muffling his laughter in the nape of Eddie’s neck. He kisses the giggles and half-baked defenses out of Eddie’s mouth - and then he spends the rest of the night figuring out what else he can elicit from Eddie.

#911 abc #911 8x05 #kinda lol this is like if i took 8.05s general concept and name and did whatever the fuck i wanted to it #911 fic #911 fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #team writes fic #prompt fic #911 prompt fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ok perfect it is a beautiful 405 in the fucking morning and my brain is giving out on me and ive never felt more alive #remember how last time i was like enhhh i don't likeee it don't loooookkk at it? this time you have to look. this time i love it so bad #so please yell with me. im excited lol #also omg prettysophist i am SO sorry i know your prompt included magic and i just decided. to give up completely #but i got a different magic prompt that i will certainly write which will be great fun #ok bye now! gn!

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