#nova wips

sorry this is a few days late, got busy at work. here u go my love. 22 for my lovely old man buddie fic

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Buck was enjoying his medical retirement very much, thank you.

He woke up every morning and tended to his garden in their backyard, sprinkled birdseed on the feeder, and did yoga with the morning sun. The brace that cradled his left knee was a familiar comfort at this point. A reminder of his time in the LAFD and a reminder of all the lives he saved.

It was also a reminder of what he lost.

He was 50 years old and captain of the 124 when he was injured on the job, almost 3 years ago at this point. He had become their captain when he was in his mid 40s, trying his best to emulate Bobby in any way possible. The man had been gone for nearly 15 years by the time Buck took the job. He loved his team at the 118 like family, but the 124 became very close friends to him. He had a good team. A great team.

It had been a five alarm call, a massive warehouse fire that had reminded him of a similar fire back in his late 20s. He hadn’t even been expected to go inside, but Briar, a firefighter only a year and a half into her time at the 124, had gotten lost after losing her grip on the attack line. He had gone in to find her and barely had the time to tuck her under his body before a steel beam came down on top of his left leg. The same leg that was crushed by a firetruck when he was 28 years old.

It had been the end of his firefighting career after almost 25 years. 

He accepted the disability pension from the LAFD union graciously, if not with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had only really known firefighting, and now he went without. 

He still keeps in touch with most of his firefighters, attending weddings and funerals alike. Now 53, Buck tries to live his life to the fullest ability. He bakes bread and lemon bars for his local farmers market and raises money for the LAFD.

22 for cal who i love and i love buck

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Buck turns towards the stairs, ready to book it out of the loft, convinced he had entered the wrong station. His face flushes bright red as a lump in his throat chokes him. He takes a step back, but pauses as the older man beams at him. He pulls a chair out at his side, beckoning Buck to sit down.

“Take a seat, Evan.” His voice is bright, joking at his expense. He clutches his chest, heart racing, the sound beating in his ears. He slings his bag off his shoulders, sliding in the chair next to his new captain.

He manages to choke out, “Uh, everyone calls me Buck.”

“Welcome to the 118, Buck.” Captain Nash claps his shoulder as he sits, the touch making him jump. He doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him like that, willingly and parental. He gives a bashful smile, pressure building behind his eyes.

“Thanks.” He looks around at the insane spread of food on the table, mad that he would have to turn it down. Someone goes to pile pasta on his plate, but he holds his hand out to stop him.

“Uh, I appreciate it– but I'm celiac. I brought my own lunch. Thank you though.” The man across from him smiles, nothing but a kind look in his eyes. 

2o for witch!Eddie omfg I wanna finish before Halloween I will do it

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Buck follows, always.

“Hey, what does that mean?” Eddie tucks his hands under his arms, squeezing himself to feel pressure. He bows his head, desperate to avoid Buck’s eyes. He could never resist him, especially when his eyes stared into his soul.

He swipes at his eyes, tears still flooding his eyes.

“Buck, please. I can’t tell you.” 

“You can tell me anything, I promise.” Buck’s hands come to his shoulders, thumbs stroking his skin under his shirt. His resolve cracks. Shatters under the watchful gaze of his best friend. He’s unable to put himself together before the truth comes tumbling out of his mouth.

“When you were struck by lightning–” He hears Buck suck in a sharp breath and tighten his grip on Eddie’s shoulders. “When you were struck by lightning, I tried to bring you back to life.”

He still can’t look at Buck in his eyes, heart clenching in his chest.

“I know, Eddie. Hen told me you did CPR.” 

Sorry it took this long! 14 for Maddie and Buck

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If she puts him down, will she ever pick him back up?

Their mom is at the kitchen table and sees them walk inside. Her face pinches into a tight frown. Evan is still crying in her lap, face tucked into her neck, salty tears wetting her collar.

“Oh, Maddie. What did he do?” She tuts as Maddie rubs his back, soothing him as he cries. He tightens his grip on her shirt when she moves to set him down.

“He fell off his bike.” Their mother stands up and goes to grab him from her arms. Evan cries out, squeezing her waist with his legs. Maddie shakes her head at her mother, holding him tighter and tighter. She wants to tuck him in between her rib cage to keep him safe, to make sure no harm will come to him.

This is my lovely oomf on twitter tina i love you! 8 sentences for you dear

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 It’s a sunny morning in late May, air still cool enough to go for a walk without sweating. He loops around the park near their house, sitting at a bench with “Robert Wade Nash; bird-watcher and father.” engraved in the back. Eddie had donated it when they bought the house, surprising Buck for Bobby’s birthday. He watches the birds flit around the lake, listening to the early morning traffic and noise of the city. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he checks it to see a text from Eddie.

No lecture today. Do you want to go out for breakfast?

make buck suffer 🥰

Your wish is my command haha

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26 for 🐈‍⬛

He pushes Buck towards the door against his better judgement. Buck hugs him again, thumb stroking Eddie’s bad shoulder. He claps a hand on Buck’s shoulder when he pulls away.

“Bye, Buck. Thanks again. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Eddie smiles, a genuine one, and nods.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Buck gets halfway to his car before turning and giving Eddie one last wave. Eddie can see Tommy in the passenger seat, staring at the two of them. Eddie still can’t figure out what his eyes are saying, what his glances mean. He waits until Buck gets in the jeep and pulls out of his driveway before he closes the door.

He feels like he has cotton stuffed in his ears as soon as he’s alone. His magic explodes out of his chest and hands, rattling the floor of his home, sending a lamp crashing off a table. He groans in anguish as a ripple passes through him, sending him crashing to the floor. The energy overwhelms him, stars flooding his vision. His eyes shift to gold, waves of energy pulsing out through his fingertips, heating his body to an unbearable temperature.

He cries at a harsh wave of magic, his body desperate for something to heal. Desperate for someone to latch onto, to care for. His control has gotten better over the years of dealing with it, not passing out from the energy anymore, but it can still overtake him. When Christopher is around, his magic will latch onto him and soothe his aching joints and sore muscles. 

He has no outlet anymore. The shaking in his hands eases, satisfied with expelling out dormant energy into the ground. He flips onto his side, knees shaking with the effort. He feels like he ran a marathon, body limp and joints pressing into the hardwood floors.

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30 for 🍞 as well :)

Evan Buckley knew that he had CELIAC written in his LAFD file. His files at school had the same thing written down.

It didn’t affect his life as much as it used to, being the kid who had to bring his own cupcakes to birthday parties and couldn’t eat the pizza during class parties. Living in Los Angeles certainly helped, where the people around him would be on fad diets and say they were “reducing inflammation” by going gluten-free. It’s easier to find options at restaurants and grocery stores, not relying on Maddie to cook his meals in separate cookware from their parents anymore. 

He still keeps his dishes in his room, not wanting his roommates to accidentally cross contaminate with their food.

When he applied for the LAFD academy, he had to disclose any medical issues. He remembers his stomach turning at the question, not wanting his only issue to stop him from doing the only job that got him excited to go to work. The recruiter had told him it wouldn’t be an issue.

For 20 weeks, he packed his own food, opting to label his lunchbox and keep it stored at the top of the communal fridge. He kept to himself, kept his head down and powered through the aches and pains of the academy. The knot that had lived in his chest unraveled a bit when he was assigned a station. It still sat heavily in between his ribs, but less pressure. 

Buck asked his instructor if his new captain, Robert Nash, knew about him being celiac. She had smiled kindly at him, noting that it was in his file, and that any LAFD personnel would be aware of his dietary restrictions. He gave her a weak smile, one that he had given many teachers when they would ask him if he wanted a lollipop instead of a cookie at snack time. He hoped it wouldn’t be an issue for his new team, his refusal to eat food they cooked and his reluctance to share snacks.

His first day approaches quickly, a bright and sunny day in California setting the backdrop to his new start. Buck has the urge to call Maddie, but knows she won’t pick up.

He selfishly hopes he will make friends, an almost childlike instinct to please settling in his bones.

The jeep rolls to a stop at the 118, a sleek building. As he climbs out, he hears the hustle of the firefighters and paramedics inside. Buck sees someone servicing an engine and two more in the back of an ambulance restocking the kits inside. His legs pull him forward, waving at the people in the bay. He feels silly, cheeks flushing as a man smiles at him, getting a laugh out of the stranger.

He feels himself light up as he sees a locker with Buckley written across the top. A sign that he belongs here, that he isn’t a wanderer destined to float from place to place.