buddierealm

[buddierealm]

Daily Eddiestache day 32/♾️

[buddierealm]

I live here now until bobby is back from the grave

[buddierealm]

6x10 // 8x15

[buddierealm]

i’m struggling fr

they really said “you get NO eddie. AND everyone is going to die” and then they spit on us

[buddierealm]

ʚ MISTAKES NEVER LAST — e. diaz x reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 Wordcount: 7.1k Summary: Everything gets a lot more complicated. It's also a lot easier. Warnings: MCD (canon compliant), idiot4idiot, yearning overload, dead mom waffles™, depictions of grief/injury/surgery aftermath, firetruck KA-BOOM, and they were roommates??. A/N: rip...

That secret, useless, inconvenient talent of yours comes back again. Only this time, when you inconveniently cross paths with Shannon Diaz, she’s dying. Some people would wish death upon the woman their ex is currently married to, but you can't do that. In fact, you have to save her. And quick.

Because Chim is barely holding Eddie back from coming over here. If it were anyone but Shannon, you would've already been coming to terms with the fact that this woman just isn't going to make it. You'd already done all you could to control the bleeding, but there was already too much bleeding by the time you'd arrived on site.

Hen's also there, asking her questions. Her expression isn't reassuring in the least. She looks alarmed, and a little sad. If you could look through the cloud of denial blocking all of your emotions, you'd probably look the same. But right now, you're still focused on saving her.

You yell out at the ambulance, asking why it's taking so long to bring a stretcher over here. The amount of blood pouring out onto the concrete is making you dizzy. Eddie finally makes his way over. He crouches down and looks at you in question. He'd just been told it was pretty bad by Chim, but he wants confirmation. You have to tell him the truth. You shake your head.

Then he finally looks down at her. His eyes are filled with an inexplicable sadness. You've only met Shannon Diaz four times, this one included, but you can't bear the thought that she might die. That she might die and leave Eddie and Chris alone again.

“Shannon?” Eddie calls out to her.

She sounds delirious, “Hey. Are you here?”

He gives her a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and nods.

“I'm here.”

She looks between the both of you and you can tell she's trying to smile. The universe is playing the biggest joke on her ever, and she's trying to smile. You think you can see where Christopher gets his strength from.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she jokes.

Yeah, you wouldn’t want your husband’s almost-mistress stare at you during your last moments, either.

Hen uses her stethoscope to measure her heart rhythm and sounds. She over looks at Chimney.

“Vitals trending downwards,” she announces. It makes a pit form in your stomach.

You gulp as Chim begins handing out assignments. You let her and Eddie have a moment as you get ready to pull her up onto the backboard.

“Ready?” Chim asks, and you nod, “On three. Three, two, one.”

You pull her up by her legs, rolling her onto the backboard. She closes her eyes slightly. You can imagine the pain is intolerable. You pull her up with the rest of the paramedics and bring her to the ambulance.

You're already on the ambulance before you can think to leave. You really don't want to make this any worse for her, but it's already too late to get off. Hen needs a hand and you aren't sure you can find someone quick enough once you step off. So you stay.

“She's decompensating. We got to intubate her,” Hen yells.

You prep the intubation tube and anything else she might need. But Eddie decides against it at the last moment, which is pretty understandable. He wants a his few minutes with her to not be silent. He holds her hand on the ride to the hospital.

“I don't feel anything. That can't be good, right?” she questions. It isn't.

She gasps and starts crying. Usually, you'd have to advise against it, but you'll absolutely let her have her moment.

“Leaving again,” she begins, “I'm so sorry. I'd love... a little more time.”

“Just be silent,” he advises her.

He's right, of course, it usually helps make her chances of survival higher. But you think it's more for him than her. He doesn't want to feel this right now. He wants to stay strong for her. He smiles, and tries to stop himself from crying.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers. “Christopher loves you so much.”

You can feel Hen sneak a glance at you. This absolutely isn't about you, and yet she's still checking on you. You nod towards her, trying not to let the dam of your tears break.

You're so sad for them both, and you can feel your heart break for Chris. He probably wasn't going to have Shannon as a mother figure in his life anyway, but there was still a possibility. This takes even that small chance away.

“I...I,” Shannon says through labored breaths, “I love you...both.”

Her eyes move backwards, and it's clear she's finding it very difficult to say what she wants to next, but she's determined to get it out.

It comes out in barely a screech, when she makes eye contact with Eddie and then you and says, “Take care...of Chris.”

And then her eyes are rolling back, and she can barely breathe. Hen and Chimney start intubating almost immediately. Eddie sits back on the ambulance bench. You both stare at her with tears in your eyes. Instinctually, you grab his hand and squeeze tight. He doesn't dare let go until you've reached the hospital.

Shannon Diaz's death hits everyone hard. It hits her son and husband the most, of course, but the impact is widespread. After the hospital, you head straight home. Your head isn't screwed on right for hours after. You spend the long minutes on the couch, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.

Eventually, you make your way to the kitchen, and before you even know it, you're making food for two extra people, and packing it into Tupperware containers. It’s the kind of thing you’ve seen friends do for each other. It’s the kind of thing you hope Shannon meant when she spoke her last words.

You change out of your uniform and get into your car with a definite location in mind. So, you aren't too shocked when you end up parked in front of the Diaz residence.

It takes you a few minutes to gather up the courage to make it out of your car. When you do, you ring the doorbell twice and wait for an answer. A minute goes by before the door swings open.

Eddie's on the other side. He looks shocked to see you. His hair's a mess. His eyes are swollen and blood-shot, like he's been crying. You hold up the bags you brought over.

“It's food. And dessert,” you explain. “I figured you don't have much energy left to cook. Kid's gotta eat, right?”

You hand him the bags and he sets them on the table beside the door. The look in his eyes says he wants to lean in and kiss the living daylights out of you. He might’ve, in another universe, where his wife, who was trying to walk out on him for the second time, hadn’t just died horrifically.

Instead, he steps onto the porch and hugs you in gratitude. You think he might've forgotten about food altogether. You smile curtly when he pulls away.

“You need anything else?” you offer. “Anything at all.”

He shakes his head immediately, and you take it as a sign to leave. As you're walking back to your car, though, he calls out to you.

“Actually,” he runs over, “It's Chris. He's been in his room ever since we got back from my abuela's. He won't come out. I don't know... I'm not sure I know how to deal with him. Do you mind trying?”

You nod right away. Of course you'd try. You both make your way inside, and he closes the door behind you. He takes the bags you'd brought into the kitchen, as you take off your coat. He tilts his head to where Chris' room is, but you already know.

You make your way through the hallway and to Christopher's door. The door's already open, but you knock anyway. He's lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It reminds you of yourself a few hours ago. He looks over at you, and then looks back up. You take that as a sign to come in.

You walk inside slowly, and make your way to sit beside him, on the edge of the low bed. You actually aren't too sure what you'll say. You were hoping it'd come to you in the moment.

“How're you feeling?” you ask, to start off.

He just shakes his head. Okay, not much to work with.

You sigh and look at the floor. You just try to imagine what you'd want to be said to you. That seems to work wonders, because you start blurting something out before you know it.

“Y'know, I'm kind of an expert at losing people. I've lost so many someones I've loved before,” you inform him, hoping it'll build credibility. And it's true. The job doesn't come without its losses. You've seen so many friends off, you've had to watch so many heroes you considered family pass away, you watch people almost lose the people they love the most on the daily.

“I know you’re feeling a lot of things. I know you might feel like it’s your fault in some roundabout way,” you tell him, because guilt always finds a way to creep into feelings of grief.

“But I need you to know, you did everything right. Even if it was just being there with her. You did everything you could,” you affirm. It's a little good to hear yourself too.

“And I know it hurts a lot, every time you think of her,” you guess, and he nods, closing his eyes tightly.

“But over time, it’ll hurt less and less. And eventually, you’ll remember her and it’ll only hurt a little. You're so strong, Chris. And she was so strong. And so brave.”

He needs to know, you think. He needs to know that she fought for him. He should remember her well, even if she wasn't the best at staying. You grab his hand and he squeezes tightly. You smile at him, and he smiles back. You bring a hand up to trace the side of his cheek, and it makes him laugh loudly.

“You hungry, bud?” you ask.

“Yes,” he all but shouts.

“Well, there's some dinner in the kitchen. I'm sure your dad's waiting for you.”

He shoots up and makes his way towards the door. Only then, do you realize that Eddie's been standing there the whole time. He thanks you quietly, as they make their way to the kitchen.

You stand in the hallway, not sure where to go. If you and Eddie were still together, you'd have stayed for dinner. You'd have stayed the night, too. Throughout the course of your relationship, you'd forgotten enough stuff around, opting to 'borrow' Eddie's instead, that you could stay over at any time without issue.

Now, though, it feels awkward to even be here. There are almost no traces of Shannon around the house. It's like she was a ghost that wafted in and wafted out with such meticulous care, that she didn't leave anything behind. It was newfound information to you that she was planning on leaving Chris and Eddie, again.

If you weren't so saddened and shocked by her death, you'd have resented her. The time you shared being integrated into their family was the best you've ever had. You don't think you'll never understand why anyone self-sabotages so thoroughly. You've had your moments, too, but those were fueled by a fear that you'd be the one getting left. A leave before you get left mentality. Or a leave before you get left again one.

So, you make your way to the door, set on leaving. You'll show up for the funeral tomorrow, but you can't stay here right now.

Chris catches you at the door. You feel cruel for trying to leave without saying goodbye now. You crouch down and give him a smile.

“I have to go,” you confess, “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“No,” he responds, and you frown.

“Can you stay and make me waffles tomorrow?”

You close your eyes and laugh. Wow, you regret making him waffles that one time. You ruffle his hair with one hand, as you think of the smoothest rejection possible.

“Y'know, maybe I could come over a little earlier and bring them with me,” you suggest.

He doesn't look too pleased. But he nods and makes his way into the living room to eat, as Eddie leaves the kitchen with two plates in hand.

“You can stay,” he whispers.

You look up at him with a shocked expression from your crouched position. You get up and shake your head. You can't, really.

“Hey, you did say anything,” he reminds you, “And Chris needs this right now. I can tell.”

You sigh, “I guess I did.”

Shannon's last words replay in your mind. Take care of Chris. Her eye contact with you couldn't have been a mistake. You can't shake the undeniable responsibility you feel for the kid now. You can tell it isn't just Christopher who needs you, but that is neither here nor there. Besides, you're more than willing and able to help. So you will.

Eddie nods in understanding, “Go make yourself a plate in the kitchen, and come join us.”

You wake up a little before sunrise. Sleeping was a battle in and of itself, but waking up to a bunch of clattering in the kitchen is less than pleasant. The couch was moderately comfortable. You fluff the cushions back up before making your way to the kitchen. You look at the offender who's woken you up through lidded eyes.

“Couldn't sleep?” you grumble at Eddie, as he opens up all of the cabinets to look inside for something.

“Hey. Yeah,” he says, still searching around.

You make your way over to him and grab his arms.

“Could you...just stop with the noise?” you whisper angrily.

You sigh, “You're going to wake Christopher up.”

He nods. You let him go. You cross your arms and lean on the counter, trying to wake yourself up for a moment. Coffee, you decide, is probably a good choice right now.

You walk towards the coffee maker and fill it up with enough water for two, clicking the button to get it to open. Then, you turn around and stare expectantly at Eddie, who's still standing in the same place you left him.

“So, what the hell is it you’re looking for exactly?”

“Melatonin pills. I can't do this funeral without at least a few hours of sleep,” he says, and you frown in confusion.

“My family's making it into town. My parents,” he explains.

You nod. Ah. The overbearing parents he told you all about that one night. You imagine that can't be easy. You wish you could find a way to pop their tires telepathically so they can't make it. The funeral's going to be difficult on its own, without their interference.

“You could always just tell them you moved houses. Y'know, misdirection,” you recommend, making jazz hands. He laughs. That was kind of the intention.

“Or just ditch the funeral. Kid won't remember it anyway,” you shrug.

He looks contemplative, “I think that'd make them a bit more...y'know.”

“Valid point.”

You turn around to pour two cups of coffee. You hand Eddie one and take the other for yourself.

“C'mon, you probably won't sleep anyway,” you tell him, as he second-guesses whether he should take that first sip or not.

He starts to drink from the mug, but looks a little saddened by the fact that he won't be getting any sleep any time soon. You nurse your mug and stare at the fridge.

“We should probably get started on those waffles. So they're ready when he wakes up,” you suggest.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie says, like he's completely forgotten why you're here in the first place.

You gather all of the ingredients into a pile on the counter. It doesn't take you long to realize that a key ingredient is missing. Milk.

“We're missing the milk. Why the hell do you guys not have any milk? There's a growing boy in the house,” you complain, half-joking.

Eddie snickers at you, “We could just use water.”

You turn around and narrow your eye at him, “Sorry, what? You think I'm going to half-ass the dead mom waffles?”

“Oh, right. Of course not,” he reasons, sarcastically.

You grab his mug out of his hand.

“Go,” you order, “and bring back some milk.”

He rolls his eyes but leaves the kitchen nonetheless. You hear the front door shut. You begin assembling the dry ingredients, and cracking eggs into a large bowl. By the time you're done, Eddie walks in with two milk cartons. You smile and thank him, proceeding to make the batter.

The sun begins to rise as you talk and pop the waffles into the waffle maker. You sip on reheated coffee as the scent of something freshly baked wafts through the house. You almost burn a couple of the waffles, too engrossed in each other's conversation.

You'd be lying if you said it wasn't incredibly weird to be acting so normal. No one can bring themself to address the elephant in the room, so you just sweep the last two months under the rug and let yourself enjoy the calm before the storm.

The aforementioned storm being the funeral, of course.

The finishing touches you set up onto the dining table consist of butter, the jar of strawberry jam, chocolate syrup, and a few plates. Chris walks into the living room as you set up the last plate. His smile is wide when he realizes you kept your promise and stayed to make the waffles.

“Good morning, Chris!” you say.

“Morning,” he mutters, still clearly sleepy.

You're glad he looks a lot better than yesterday. He makes his way to the table to take a seat, as Eddie walks in from his room. He'd been in the bathroom getting ready for the day ahead. He kisses Chris on the cheek before taking a seat.

You sit beside Christopher, asking which waffle he'd like.

“That one!” he points.

You put two waffles onto his plate, and hand him the chocolate sauce and sprinkles you know he likes. You watch him and Eddie eat, sipping on your second coffee of the day. Eddie's phone pings with a text. He sighs and his body language speaks volumes about how stressed he is.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Oh, nothing. My parents just said their ETA is in half an hour,” he answers.

You look down at your mug. You should really head out before they get here. The last thing any of you need is Eddie's parents asking about you sleeping over the night his wife died. You aren't sure you'd be able to explain if you tried.

You wait until Chris is almost done with his waffles, and you make your way into the kitchen to wash out your mug. When you come back you announce that you should get going. Chris takes a last bite and gets out of his seat to hug you good bye.

“Thank you,” he says. You're sure he's just talking about the waffles, but it makes you smile anyway.

“Of course. I'll see you later, okay?” you promise, and he nods.

You give Eddie a smile, and mouth ‘good luck,’ before making your way to the front door.

No one likes funerals, and you're certainly no exception. You happen to think that funerals should be abolished altogether. Memorials are acceptable. But the time directly after a person dies should be strictly reserved for the family to grieve. Not only have they just had someone die, now they have to host a bunch of people who couldn't possibly care about that someone more than they do. And the cherry on top of it all is: the body's there for everyone to gawk at. It's absurd.

Besides, it forces you to contemplate your own life in ways you wouldn't otherwise. You hate it.

After the burial, there's a small reception at the Diaz's. You sit with the rest of the 118, and entertain Chris with little games. Eddie's parents have mistaken you for Carla twice now, each. Your modest, black dress is itchy and uncomfortable. You feel so overstimulated and sad you might just die right here and turn this into your own funeral. You don't do that though; it'd be incredibly self-centered.

So, you offer everyone who comes to hug Christopher a curt smile, and ignore their judgmental looks. Yes, you're aware his mother's just died. No, you aren't trying to replace her. But how do you explain to anyone that her dying wish was this?

When it's all over, you hug Eddie goodbye, and kiss Christopher's cheek with a promise that you'll be back. His grandparents aren't nearly as happy as he is at that, though. Hen drives you home after, and you rant to her all about it on the way there. She's one of the only people who were there when Shannon said what she'd said, so she just nods and agrees the whole way home.

You're on a quick med call, the night after, when you receive a phone call from Eddie. He hasn't called you since the day you fought about Shannon. It makes you frown. Your immediate thought is that he might be in danger.

“Hey Hen?” you call out to her as she patches up a citizen, “I need a minute.”

She nods and waves you away.

You quickly press 'accept,' as the last ring sounds. There's immediately just a bunch of heavy breathing on the other line.

“Hey, Eddie? What's wrong?” you say abruptly.

“Oh, uh,” he sounds a little surprised that you picked up.

“Nothing. Nothing's wrong,” he claims, but his voice is a little shaky.

“Talk to me,” you urge.

He takes a shaky breath, “You're on a call?”

“No, no. Don't worry,” you reassure.

You can almost hear him run a worried hand through his hair.

“What is it? Is Chris okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. He's fine. I just...”

You wait for him to continue.

“It's just,” he sighs, “They didn't even come for the funeral. They just came to convince me and Christopher to-”

He barely even continue with his sentence without pausing take a deep breath. He stays silent for a moment, and you genuinely begin contemplating if you should clock out a little earlier to be with him.

“My parents. They came all the way here to try and get me and Chris to go back to El Paso,” he rambles.

It makes your heart sink. Even in the time you weren't talking to Eddie, he's been a stable pillar in your life. You've let yourself get too close, and now the thought of him and his son leaving makes your chest hurt.

“Is that what you want?”

“No, no. God no. We're trying to build a life here, away from my parents,” he explains, and you almost sob in relief.

“I want nothing more than for Christopher to grow up somewhere he can express himself freely. Texas is not that. We're not going back,” he asserts, but there's still a bit of doubt in his voice.

You check the clock on your phone, it's almost midnight. Hen begins to call for you to join her in the ambulance.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I have to go,” you confess, “But my shift ends in an hour. I'll come around with a six-pack and we can talk all about it, yeah?”

“You don't...” he trails off, “There's no need.”

“Well, that's just not true,” you call him out.

You begin walking towards the ambulance, “See ya, Eddie.”

“Yeah. See you,” he says with a smile, and you hang up.

The city's been a complete mess since the bombings have started. Everyone's panicking at any sight of an unmarked package or unclaimed school lunch anywhere. You get the mass hysteria, though. You find yourself texting Eddie every few hours to check up on him and Chris. He does the same. It's so crazy to think that with a single wrong movement, you could end up so seriously injured. Or worse.

You can tell Eddie's a lot more than just on edge. All of these incidents are triggering something from his past. He constantly looks like there are skeletons being dug up from his closet, skeletons he's had buried so deep for so long. You're sure it has something to do with his time in the army, but when you ask him he just brushes it off. So, you just do your best to remind him that you and Christopher are completely fine.

Unfortunately, for him, that also means that he's started putting you and him in different firetrucks. It's a grim thought, but you figure he does it, because if he ever ends up injured en route, you're one of the only people he trusts to do their best to help. On site, and if it goes really badly, with Christopher.

So, today, you ride with Buck and a few other firefighters in a different firetruck than the rest of the them. His text comes through a few minutes after you've been on the road.

Checking in.

You laugh at how oddly clingy it is. You begin typing a message back, but before you can respond your phone is thrown out of your hand.

A loud noise fills your ears. You can feel the truck tip back, falling onto its side. You can see red, and heat licks at your face before you feel your face slide across the hard concrete of the street. A burning pain shoots up your chest. You breathe heavily, and every breath comes with unimaginable pain.

You try to sit up, your hands supporting you by leaning on the road, but you fail miserably. You wince in pain instead, and fall back onto your front. You look back at the firetruck, which was a few feet away from landing directly on top of you. You immediately start looking for Buck, whose fate wasn't as lucky as yours.

He's lying directly underneath the truck, his entire leg crushed by the vehicle. You can hear him scream in pain. You almost sob at the sight, but you notice someone standing above him. You squint. It looks like just a kid.

A kid with a bomb strapped to his chest.

Your eyes grow wide, as he says something inaudible to Buck. In minutes, the site is surrounded with cop cars and news vans. You try to crawl your way to Buck, in hopes you can help him in any conceivable way.

You hear Eddie call out your name. He's behind the truck with Hen and Chimney. He tries to instinctually run to you, but Hen holds him back, whispering something into his ear.

“Give me your captain!” the idiot holding you hostage screams.

He keeps yelling nonsense about the captain, and when he tries tell off someone for moving, with you directly behind him, Chimney steps into view.

“I'm the captain,” he announces, “I'm the captain, so please just let me help them, okay? Please.”

The teenager clarifies that he wants Bobby instead. You sigh, and continue crawling towards Buck, glad for the distraction. Once you reach Buck, you place a gentle hand onto his back.

“Hey, you're going to be okay,” you whisper. “We’re going to be okay.”

You lean back against the truck, breathing heavily. You both watch Bobby negotiate for your lives. You listen to the kid call you 'collateral damage' and it almost makes you puke. You'd really prefer if you didn't die right now.

The kid, Freddie, walks closer to you and threatens to make you all 'go boom,' as he says. You stare up at the sky. If these are going to be your last moments, you don't want to spend them staring at this murdering halfwit.

Your eyes land on Eddie instead. You smile. He smiles back. You wouldn't exactly say you'd die happy now, but you'd die pretty satisfied.

You're starting to think Bobby's very bad at negotiating if it has you thinking about death. He disarms him physically after distracting him instead. That works wonders.

Eddie, Hen, and Chimney run in your direction immediately. Eddie pulls you in for a tight hug. Your tears begin almost immediately. He kisses the side of your brow and wipes your cheeks. He only pulls back when you bring his attention to your dying friend.

You move to crouch beside Buck, as you all check his vitals and try to figure out a way to get him out from under this truck. You all try to pull the truck up with sheer force. You quickly realize there aren't enough people.

Thankfully, the people of LA, while incredibly self-absorbed and uncharitable, can be helpful too. They help you pull the truck up and release Buck in no time. You move him into the ambulance and make your way to the hospital.

You rest your head against the walls of the ambulance, feeling a little lightheaded. Hen and Chimney are working on stabilizing Buck, when Eddie turns his focus to you. He tends to a cut on your forehead from the initial blast, as you focus on evening out your breathing.

“You alright? Any pain anywhere?” he asks.

You shake your head, as he checks your vitals anyway. When he checks your pulse, he frowns deeply. He grabs the blood pressure monitor from behind him.

“Your heart rate's really high,” he notes, putting the cuff onto your arm.

“You're hypotensive too.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“I'm probably just coming down from the adrenaline rush. I was almost killed, y'know,” you say, clutching your chest.

A wave of pain hits you like a freight train. You take gasping breaths trying to calm your body down, but breathing's difficult and your chest feels heavy.

Your head's getting lighter by the second. You can feel your vision getting blurrier, too, until Eddie's just a blob of blue in your sight. You whimper at the heaviness in your chest. You can barely hear the questions Eddie's yelling at you, as you fall unconscious.

You wake up to a screech and a hug so tight it makes you see colors dance in your vision, from the pain. You're just about to cuss whoever it is out, when you realize it's little Christopher, who's just excited to see you wake up. So you grit your teeth, and smile through the pain.

You ruffle his hair, as Eddie makes his way into your line of sight. He looks like he'd been sleeping here, in this hospital room. You frown at his tired appearance. Carla comes by and takes Christopher away to bring a nurse over, and to give you and Eddie some privacy.

“Hey,” you croak out.

“Hi,” he greets, sounding he's about to cry.

You realize you can't remember a single thing after falling unconscious, “What happened?”

“You, uh,” he sounds a little choked up, “You had some internal bleeding. Hemothorax, probably from the fall.”

He gulps, “They had to perform a thoracotomy to remove the blood. Your lung was collapsed. You couldn't breathe. I just...”

He trails off. His eyes have a faraway glance in them. It looks like he's hanging on by a thread, so close to breaking down. You can tell he's reliving those moments in the ambulance, and whatever happened after. You pull his hand into yours. You let him feel your pulse with his fingers to ground him.

“I'm okay, alright? You didn't lose me. You saved me,” you say, with absolute certainty.

“No,” he sobs out, “I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. Hen had to help you. I was...stuck.”

“Oh,” you blink, “That doesn't matter, y'know. There's barely anything you could've done when I was in an ambulance, already on the way to the hospital.”

“No, no,” he argues, “I couldn't even hold your hand. You could've...You could've died. And I couldn't even look at you.”

You bring his hand up to your lips. It's a gesture that shocks him. He looks into your eyes with an intensity that almost makes you want to cry with him.

“It's okay. I forgive you. You did all you could. You did your best, Eddie,” you reassure him.

He nods once. Then, the nurses walk in and they're checking your vitals, looking at your stitches, and making sure you're comfortable. Eddie keeps his eyes on you the entire time. He searches for any way to help, but when the opportunity never comes up, he excuses himself.

"I'm gonna go call Hen. She wanted to know when you woke up."

A few days later, it's almost time for you to be discharged. Hen had taken the key to your apartment to bring you back some clothes and other essentials. You had slowly gotten up from your bed to throw the outfit she'd brought you on, in the few moments you had alone.

You only managed to slip your jeans on, though, before someone burst through your room door. You turn around immediately, covering yourself with your shirt. Your first instinct is to shout, so you do.

“Close the damn door, Diaz,” you yell.

For some reason, Eddie takes that as an invitation to close the door behind him, instead of getting out. You roll your eyes. Well, he's definitely seen it all before, so there's no reason to be shy. You move your shirt away to throw it on, which leaves you in just your bra.

He stands frozen in the corner. His eyes are trained on the bandages covering your surgical site. He must notice something, because he yells out before you can fully get your shirt on.

“Wait!” he shouts.

You look back at him, frowning. He makes his way across the room to you, staring at your torso. You wait expectantly for him to say anything. He doesn't. Just continues staring.

“Y'know if you wanted me to stay naked, you could've just asked,” you joke.

His face flushes, “No. That's not it, obviously. You bled through the surgical dressing, it's been soaked. When'd they last change it? How didn't you notice?”

You don't look down, now that he mentions blood.

“Uh, this morning probably? And I don't look,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I can't look,” you clarify, “I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. If I look, I'll freak out.”

He nods in understanding. He starts to gather a few things from around the room. He starts washing his hands with an antiseptic soap.

“So how were you planning on changing those every day at home, exactly?” he questions.

“Oh, I wasn't. I was planning on calling Hen to do it for me,” you explain.

He laughs, and grabs a pair of gloves out of the glovebox. You frown in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to change your bandages. Do you mind?”

“Well, yes. I like to think, as a respectable young woman, that my first choice, in a hospital full of doctors and nurses, for this isn't my ex.”

He nods, “Yeah, well, I'm all you have. They're pretty backed up. Train wreck. It could take hours for someone to come in and help you. And you seem pretty eager to get out of here.”

You are. You hate hospitals. You've hated them a lot more since you had a full-blown panic attack in one. And he's a trained professional. You're sure he's done this kind of thing an endless amount of times.

“Fine. Whatever. Go ahead,” you succumb to your fate

Eddie helps you sit up on the edge of the hospital bed. He makes his way downward, so he's at eye level with your wound. He's so close, you can feel his breath on your skin. It makes every hair on your body stand.

He starts to pull off the soaked dressings slowly. And it hurts like a bitch, even with all of the pain-killers they have you on. You wince in pain, and grab the back of his neck instinctively.

You're just about to apologize when he says, “It's okay. Just hold on. I'll be more careful.”

He dabs the wound to make sure it's dry. He grabs the new bandages and rips them open. He carefully positions them where they're supposed to be, applying gentle pressure to get the adhesive to stick to your dry skin. You keep your hand on the nape of his neck the entire time, gripping tighter when it gets more painful.

When he's done, he comes back up. But your hand doesn't leave him. He makes no move to step away. You both just stare at each other for a long moment. Your eyes drift from his eyes to his lips a few times.

Until a nurse steps into the room with wide eyes.

“Uh, I'll just come back,” she mutters, shutting the door as she leaves.

You turn around to look at him with narrowed eyes. You grab your shirt from your lap and whip him with it.

“You said they were backed up!” you accuse.

He just laughs and walks away, “They were!”

You finally throw your shirt on. You know you should feel a little taken advantage of, but you can't help but feel thrilled. Having him touch you again was a much needed comfort.

He makes his way towards the door, and then stops abruptly, like he's remembered why he came here in the first place, “Also, I think you should come stay with me and Chris for a few days. You need someone to help you around the house.”

“And I'm more than willing to do that every day.”

You shriek and laugh nervously at him. You wish you could say no. Well, that's a lie. It all just makes logical sense, you suppose.

You need someone to look after you, and he doesn't seem to mind. You'd also be doing him a favor by looking after Christopher while he's at work. Mutual transaction.

Also, the thought of him changing your bandages every day sends an undeniable thrill down your spine. You nod in agreement as he all but skips his way out of the hospital room.

Well, seems like Christopher isn't the only person who's going to enjoy this new roommate arrangement.

“Hello, Probie,” you tease, resting against the locker beside Eddie's.

“Not anymore,” Eddie responds firmly.

“No, no,” you say, shaking your head.

You wave your phone in front of his face, “I still have an hour to call you that. I’m wearing it out.”

He sighs, looking frustrated. He's been standing in front of the mirror in the station dressing room for 17 minutes trying to get his tie right. You counted.

You step closer in his direction. You grab the tie from him roughly. He almost tells you off, but gets distracted by your uniform, which is tighter today than your everyday one. He begins to look you up as down, as you begin to tie his tie neatly.

“How's your wound?” he asks.

“It's fine, dad. You don't have to keep asking me every ten minutes,” you snark, still working on the tie.

It usually doesn't take you three minutes to do this, but you'd like to prolong it as much as possible. You could guess he's definitely done the same once or twice while changing your dressings. That sadly ended a two days after you'd gotten discharged, and you wouldn't admit it even with a gun to your head, but you miss his touch.

Once it's tied, you tap his chest twice to get him to look. He finally takes his eyes off of you to look down. He looks pleased with it. He looks into the mirror one last time, and then slams his locker closed.

You can tell he's anxious, because his parents are in town. He gets this way whenever they come by. It's completely valid, but today is his day, no one else's. So you'll try to distract him in any way possible.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous, Probie?” you joke, sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. He joins you.

“I am not,” he denies, tying his boot.

“And stop calling me that,” he insists, but his eyes say he's entertained by this whole interaction.

You shake your head hard, “No. I actually can't believe I didn't do it more often, when I had the chance. Never mind, though, I still have 55 minutes.”

You laugh and move out of the way when he tries to grab you, shaking your head furiously. You walk out of the dressing room, cackling like a maniac. You pull your phone out and shoot him a message.

Probie.

He responds almost immediately. You can hear him chuckle from the other room.

Stop

You don't. In fact, his annoyance only makes you more insistent. You keep calling him that until the very moment he gets awarded the title of firefighter. Literally.

As you and Chris sit at a table, with Carla and Eddie's abuela, you convince him to cheer Eddie on when he appears to receive his new title. You want Chris to feel comfortable enough to cheer his dad on, but you also want to use the opportunity for evil.

You can't help but scream, “Yeah, Probie Diaz!” at him, as he walks over. He shoots you a feigned dirty look, but it dissipates into a smile as he sees Chris hoot for him, with you encouraging it. You both watch Bobby declare him a firefighter, pride filling your hearts.

When the ceremony's over, you take pictures and pointedly avoid Eddie's parents. You can already tell they know you're staying with him and Christopher. And they aren't happy about it in the least.

You're sure in another life, where you'd just meet them on an emergency and had absolutely no personal ties to them, you wouldn't hate Helena and Ramón Díaz.

In this life, though, you do. Anyone who's aware of the harm they cause Eddie, and by extension Christopher, would too.

After hours of carefully tip-toeing around Eddie's parents, Christopher decides that he’s completely worn out and passes out on the couch at the station. Eddie carries him, when you all make your way to the truck.

You both sigh loudly once you’re in the car alone, and as far away as possible from Chris' grandparents. You laugh quietly at your mutual distress, before making your way home in comforting silence.

Even though being around Eddie's parents has put a bitter taste in your mouth, you wouldn't trade this for the world. Christopher quietly snoring in the back seat, as Eddie drives you all back to their house. A house you've never felt anything less than loved and appreciated in.

You quickly realize on the way back that all of the glares and subtle side-eyes were completely worth it. You hope you don't have to see Helena and Ramón again any time soon.

A/N: caring more about your ex almost dying than your wife being dead is crazy work. i love eddie.

[buddierealm]

i love him and his stupid face

[buddierealm]

she (eddie's mustache) is the moment.

[buddierealm]

He's harmless. Mostly. (buck's version)

[buddierealm]

ʚ MISTAKES NEVER LAST — e. diaz x reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wordcount: 4.1k Summary: Someone almost dies. You freak out. Alternatively, those accused of robbing banks together, stay together. Warnings: cheating, panic attacks, vomiting, yearning overload, idiot4idiot, they’re broken up but HR still hates them. A/N: anyone else feel like someone's gearing up to die and haunt the narrative?

13 times. Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen. You repeat the number so much in your head it doesn't even sound like a real word anymore. It's all you've done since you hung up on Bobby. It's all you can think about on the drive over. 13 times Chimney's been stabbed.

Howie Han can be annoying at times, but he's always been a loyal and kind friend. You don't understand why anyone would do such a thing.

And Maddie's been kidnapped, too.

They've seriously got to be the most cursed couple of all time.

You rush through the hospital doors, and tell the front desk your name. You're sure you look a mess. You had no time to even look in the mirror after getting that call. They ask for the patient's name and it takes you a long minute to come up with anything, cycling through Chim's endless list of nicknames in your mind.

“Howard Han. His name's Howard Han, he was...um,” you can't even bring yourself to say the words.

He was stabbed thirteen times.

The nurse at the desk's mouth drops open as she opens something up on the screen in front of her. You nod, you can tell she's just uncovered what's happened to him. Her eyes are full of pity as she directs you to the hallway adjacent to the ICU.

There, you find Athena and Bobby leaning against the wall, while Buck and Eddie sit in the corner. You walk up to Athena and she offers you a hug, before Bobby does the same.

“Anything new?” you ask Athena.

“No, he's stable for now. Last we heard they were getting him prepped for surgery,” she responds.

“Good, good,” you sigh, “What about the case? I mean, who the hell did all of this?”

“We don't know yet. There isn't much we can reveal. But before he fell unconscious, Howard mentioned a Jason Bailey. That name ring a bell?”

You think it does. You wrack your brain for a few minutes, trying to come up with anything from your conversations with Chim, but nothing comes up. As you're about to shake your head in response, though, you remember.

“Oh my god! Yes,” you yell, grabbing Eddie and Buck's attention, “This guy I met outside a bar we were all at. He asked for my number. I gave it to him.”

“He said his name was Jason Bailey.”

“Did he ever end up calling you?” Athena asks.

“Yeah, he called me a bunch after. I never responded, though,” you confess, as Buck and Eddie make their way over to the three of you.

“Would you mind giving me the number?”

You nod in agreement frantically, and pull your phone out. You read the digits out loud to her, and she logs them onto her phone. She explains that she'll try to track the phone attached to the number, and then leaves with Buck.

Shortly after, Bobby follows them. You're left standing there with Eddie, too stunned to speak. You can feel your throat closing up and a large pit forming in your stomach.

You move to sit down at the chair where Buck sat just minutes ago. You put your head between your knees and try to even out your breathing. Your mind is flooding with all of the different possible ways this could've gone. Repositioning your head fails miserably, when you start remembering all of the bad memories from the past month.

You've felt so lonely lately, the breakup with Eddie hitting you hard. You wonder, if it had been you, how long would it have taken anyone to find you?

You shoot out of your seat and make your way into the nearest storage closet you can find, slamming the door shut. If you're about to break down, it might as well be private. You can hear Eddie call after you, but you pay him no mind. You slide down the floor and sit in a crouched position, letting the cold floor cool you down.

Your face is running hot, you can barely hear your own heavy breathing with your mind running at 100 miles per hour, and it feels like someone's stabbed you in the stomach. You close your eyes tightly, trying to zero in on anything positive, but nothing comes up. And then Eddie walks in.

He closes the door behind him gently, and you're too busy wigging out to tell him to leave you the fuck alone, please. He grabs something off of a shelf above you and bends down to sit beside you.

“Hey,” he whispers, and your eyes turn to look at him. You're still freaking out but his voice is making this a little easier.

It could've been you. You instead of Chim. Maybe it should've been. You could've saved him. Maybe you would've been able to tell this guy was bad news. Why hadn't you responded to Jason's calls? If you had, it might've been you kidnapped right now. It might've been Eddie stabbed and left to die. Or you. You aren't too sure what this psycho's end goal is exactly.

“Take this, okay? Breathe into it for me,” he hands you a paper bag. You grab it desperately, and put it over your mouth.

You focus on filling the bag up with air, and breathing it back in. Eddie whispers praises into the dark, with a steady hand on your shoulder.

“You’re okay, cariño. You’re okay,” he tells you, “You’re doing so well.”

Your breathing's still irregular, though, and two breaths later you can feel the contents of your stomach come back up. You're immensely grateful for the bag, which Eddie grabs and throws into a trash can nearby. He makes his way back to your side immediately, placing his open palm on the middle of your back.

The worst of it is over, the endorphins from throwing up carrying you over. You feel a lot better almost instantly. Your breathing's gone back to normal, and you feel a little dizzy but it's a lot better than whatever the fuck that was. You rest your head against the shelf behind you as Eddie does the same. He sighs in relief, like he was the one who's just had a panic attack. Somehow, you can see it's affected him just as much as you.

“You okay, now?” he checks.

“Mhm. Much better,” you respond.

He rubs your back gently in circles. A few moments after you've both calmed down, you walk out of the storage closet. He leads you to a bathroom to get cleaned up, and waits outside.

Neither of you talks for the rest of the night. He takes care of you silently; he brings you food and coffee, holds your hand when Chimney goes into surgery, and consistently reassures you everything's going to be fine with just his eyes.

The morning after feels a little like dying inside. Chim's still in surgery, you haven't spoken to Eddie yet, and you're all going around sharing anecdotes about Howie like he's about to die.

When you feel like you're about to start panicking again, you put your head between your legs and claim it's just because you're tired. You can feel Eddie look for any signs of distress you might be exhibiting whenever you do this anyway.

The moment Michael and Harry turn up with drinks and baked goods, Eddie goes to grab you both a cup of the fancy coffee they brought by. You take the cup from his hand and thank him with a smile.

“We don't have to talk about last night if you don't want to,” he blurts out, as he takes a seat again.

You frown, “It's not that I don't want to. There's nothing to talk about. I freaked out. Chimney's my friend. I was worried.”

“It wasn't just that,” he accuses. “C'mon, we were both there. That wasn't just worry or sadness. It was guilt.”

You roll your eyes, “What the hell do I have to feel guilty for?”

He leans back, “You should ask yourself.”

He glances around to make sure no one's looking and puts a reassuring hand on your back, “None of this is your fault. It doesn't matter that this guy was trying to harass you first. It's not your fault, okay?”

His tone has a finality to it that almost makes you believe him. You nod anyway, and it's more of a promise that you'll try, than an affirmation. It's good enough for him.

You sip on your coffee slowly, and his hand never leaves your back.

There's still a smooth rhythm to your conversation. The quick-witted quips and jokes you shared during your time together still flow between you like you've never been apart. You're listening intently to Eddie talk about something that happened on a call the other week when his attention is pulled by something else.

“I happen to think...” he pauses, his eyes are now trained on someone behind you.

“Shannon?” he says, getting up.

You turn around to look. Yep, definitely Shannon.

He walks a few steps closer to lean down and hug Christopher. You smile at the sight, and get up to greet Shannon.

“Hey,” you say, introducing yourself.

She introduces herself as well, and you nod. Like you'd ever forget her. When Christopher hears your voice, he walks over to hug you. You pick him up into your arms, as Eddie grabs his walking sticks.

“Hey, buddy. How's it going?” you ask excitedly.

“Great,” he says, “Missed you.”

“Yeah?” you grin.

“Yeah,” Shannon responds, “He's mentioned you a lot.”

You nod at her, trying not to look visibly uncomfortable, and then ask Chris if he'd like to go see Chim. He's very enthusiastic for a kid that has to spend his Saturday at a hospital, but you entertain him anyway. You both walk further into the hospital, as his parents talk for a moment, before Eddie joins you and Shannon leaves.

It seems you have an insanely useless and incredibly inconvenient talent: it's crossing paths with Shannon Diaz. It's almost like the universe is punishing you by putting her in your life every time you have the gall to try forgetting about her.

And the curse doesn't stop at the hospital, it follows you all the way back to the station. Eddie's been out on a call for an hour and fifty-two minutes. Not just Eddie, everyone else too, but his shift had ended within those two hours, as had your own. You were just sticking behind in case anyone needed anything, definitely not to keep tabs on him.

Besides, no one ever said you couldn't keep tabs on your ex in your mind, even if he does have a wife. It's completely innocent. No one's getting hurt, and you find a little bit of solace in making sure he's fine after every call.

So, when you look over the railing to see if it's the team that's just stepped into the station and you catch sight of Shannon Diaz instead, you feel a little caught. It's almost like that woman has a sixth sense when it comes to you and Eddie.

She catches you staring at her from upstairs and waves her arm at you. She makes her way up with Christopher, and you greet them both, bending down to give Chris a hug.

“Hey, uh, Eddie's on his last call right now,” you inform Shannon.

She nods, and for some reason, you invite her to sit at the couch and decide take a seat with them. Christopher goes out of his way to sit next to you.

You entertain them with stories about rescuing people from the most inconvenient emergencies, but you keep out all of the graphic details for Chris' sake.

“Y'know, when I was with your dad, responding to an emergency once,” you narrate, looking at Christopher.

“There was a fire we had to put out. At the very last minute, I had to pull him away before he got caught in it. I practically saved his life. You should make sure he never forgets that,” you joke.

He laughs and nods like he’s actually going to remind his dad every 5 minutes. You can tell Shannon’s getting a little bored with all of the story-telling.

“Good thinking,” she comments, like she's praising a child for a cute drawing.

Chris almost immediately decides he wants a drink of water. He insists on going to the fridge for it alone. You watch him anyway, worried about the uneven flooring of the station. You finally look away when you realize one of your co-workers helping him out at the kitchenette.

“He's so independent for a kid. Wants to do everything himself,” you admire.

“Yeah, I know,” she responds, but she sounds like something else is on her mind.

“It is you, isn’t it?” she blurts out.

“Um,” you look around and repeat your own name back to her, nodding.

“You know what I mean,” she says, her voice heavy with accusation.

It’s clear she knows exactly what transpired between you and Eddie, before she decided to turn back up. If not, then she has a pretty damn good idea. You're too stunned to respond. You make sure to frown at her tone, though.

“What...” you begin, but you're thankfully interrupted by Eddie running up the stairs.

He hugs Shannon with one arm from behind the couch, and goes to say hi to Chris. When they both come back, Shannon looks positively furious. You feel like she might get up and kill you. Then, she does the most unexpected thing ever.

“Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? I'll make something nice.”

Is she seriously fucking inviting you to dinner?

Your eyes go so wide you might pop an eyeball. You turn to Eddie for a moment and then back to her.

“I kind of have plans. A date,” you lie.

That catches Eddie’s attention. You try your hardest to ignore his eyes boring into the side of your head, on account of his wife, who's literally sitting five feet away. There’s a palpable tension in the air. It makes you want to find the nearest sink and drown yourself in it.

“Maybe some other time,” you lie again.

You bid Christopher goodbye, and run to get dressed and leave.

A day later, it's Chimney's survived-a-brutal-stabbing party. Eddie and Buck hold up the party banner that reads, 'Chimney: 2, Death: 0.' Buck argues with Hen about respecting Chim's wishes, but she's having none of it. And, just on time, Athena brings the cake she picked up for the party being held at the station.

Hen announces that Chim's ten minutes away.

Perfect, you think, that's just enough time.

You walk up to Eddie as discreetly as possible and tell him to follow you into the bathroom. You go inside, and a few seconds later he's in there too.

“What?” he asks, a little concerned.

“Did you tell your wife about us?” you ask abruptly.

“Excuse me?” he whisper-shouts. “What I do and don’t tell my wife is none of your business,” he adds.

“Oh, don’t give me that. Just answer the damn question.”

He sighs in defeat, “Fine. Yes, I did. Of course I did. Happy now?”

“No, actually,” you respond, with snark.

“So what does she want now? For all of us to be friends?” you question, talking about how she so casually tried to invite you to dinner.

“I have no idea, okay?” he admits, "All I know is that I wouldn’t mind it.”

He waits for you to respond, expectantly. It's clear he's waiting for you to say the same.

You won't. You can't. The implications of it would be so fucked up. Especially after what happened at the hospital, which you're 100 percent sure Shannon doesn't know about.

“What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That it doesn’t kill me every time I see you with her and I remember what we had, and just how easily you let it all go?

“No. I won’t say any of that. Because it’s pathetic. And I’m not going to say anything to ease your guilty conscience. You should feel guilty.

“And I hate you for what you did.”

He's staring so intently into your eyes, you think he might be looking for any indication that what you're saying isn't true. Then, what you've just said dawns on you.

You've just admitted every single feeling you have for him in double negatives. And it's all true.

He grabs both sides of your face and pulls you into a hard kiss. He walks forward and pushes you into the tiled wall behind you.

It takes you a moment to slip your eyes shut, and delight in the feeling of his lips on yours. Just one word flashes through your brain, and it makes you pull back immediately like he's just burned you.

Wrong. This is all so, so wrong.

Looking into his eyes at this moment is the biggest mistake of your life. It instantly makes you forget everything. Your morals, your past, and his wife, it all fades away into the background.

You do remember the way he's made you feel, though. How sad, and dejected, and lonely he rendered you the day you realized he'd been lying to you. Your brows furrow at him, like looking into his eyes is causing you physical, palpable pain.

You slap him.

And before he can react, you pull him in for a kiss again.

His fingers are wrapped up in your hair in an instant. He pulls you impossibly closer, smushing your mouths together in desperation. You whine into his mouth at the feeling, but it reaches your ears as nothing more than a muffled, barely audible noise.

Your hands are cradling his face, but they just serve as leverage to keep him close. To make sure he receives everything you're pouring into this kiss.

You endlessly pour every single emotion he's made you feel since that night at the bar into the gesture. You hope he can feel the result, which just feels like a mess of love, and lust, and misery, and guilt.

So, so much guilt. So much guilt you're choking on it. When you almost can't breathe anymore, you pull back quickly. It makes you remember why you feel so guilty.

“No, no. Oh my god,” you exclaim, pulling his hands away and stepping back, all the way to the other side of the bathroom.

“You're married. Still married,” you think out loud, and it makes you feel a thousand times worse.

You shake your head firmly, “I'm not going to be some kind of mistress.”

You walk towards the bathroom door to leave, needing as much space between you and him as possible.

Since it's all out in the open now, so you feel the need to call him out on his bullshit once and for all.

“I won't tell you how to live your life. But if you keep playing house with someone you don't love, it'll do a lot more harm than good. To you and to Christopher.”

You had no idea a call could end so badly. You'd spent 12 hours locked up in a vault, unconscious and drugged. And now you're being interrogated. After having had to wait for everyone else in the 118 to be interrogated, naturally.

As you wait in an interrogation room in the LA police station ten minutes away from the 118, you tap your foot impatiently. You're so tired you could fall sleep right here on the metal table you're leaning against. You're also so angry you could annoy the idiots who brought you in here for hours. You probably will.

Two detectives step into the room, and take a seat in front of you. It's a man and a woman. They look familiar, and you already hope you never have to see them again after today.

The way they walk to their chairs, smiling at you, and look at each other plays out like a very badly written act they're trying to perform.

“Hello, firefighter…um,”

The woman checks your name and then says it out loud, tapping the piece of paper in front of her.

“I’m Detective Mercer,” she says, and then points at her partner, “And this is Detective Wash. We just have a few questions for you.”

You nod, because it’s the only reaction you can manage without completely freaking out at them. Your nerves are fried. Not only have you just gotten accused of being involved in a bank robbery, you had to wait four hours for these idiots to be done interrogating everyone else to bring you in.

“Look, we know you’re probably not involved in any of this,” Detective Mercer says.

You shoot her an expression you hope conveys, ‘Really? Then, why’d you bring me in here, idiot?’

“Yes,” she says with certainty at your disbelieving glare.

“I mean, you were already a Fire Cadet, who was qualified for Ride-Alongs by 17. Recognized by the Board of Fire Commission for your dedication. You graduated top of your class at the academy. The top graduate for three years after too, if I recall correctly,” Detective Wash notes, reading off of the file that rests in front of him. His partner just nods. 

“Your record’s completely clean. You’ve had no financial problems. Hell, your credit score’s better than either of us,” Mercer says, pointing at herself and her partner.

They both laugh, but you aren’t laughing with them. You know they don’t believe in all of the bullshit they’re spewing.

It’s all real, of course, but it doesn’t absolve you from looking guilty in their eyes. They’re just trying to pull you in by making you feel so holier-than-thou that you rat the 118 out, which you wouldn’t do in a million years. So, it seems there’s a few things they don’t know.

“So, where are the questions?” you ask, clearly too tired for this demeaning attempt at manipulation. 

Detective Wash sighs, and then looks at his partner like they’re gearing up to reveal a big secret to you. 

He then leans in, across the table, and almost whispers, “We heard, uh, somewhere, that there’s been some involvement between yourself and Probationary Firefighter Diaz. We also heard he hurt you pretty badly.”

Detective Mercer nods again, “Lord knows I wouldn't forgive an ex for lying to me that easily, either.”

You cock your head to the side.

What the actual hell...

You wish you could just run away. Or hide in the corner, or something. You were aware everyone in the station knew what was going on, but it being spoken back to you like this makes you want to pull your own hair out.

You haven't spoken to him since the kiss, but hearing his name still leaves you embarrassed and a little hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, annoyed.

Wash sits back like they've just caught you red-handed.

They haven't. It's why they're resorting to all of these cheap tactics, you tell yourself.

"What we're trying to say is..." Mercer sighs, feigning disappointment, “You don't have to go down for this with him.”

You roll your eyes, slamming your hands down on the table as gently as you can manage right now. They're bigger idiots than you previously thought if they genuinely think they can manipulate you into saying anything.

“Of course,” you laugh.

“Look, I didn't do anything. Diaz didn't do anything. The 118 didn't do anything. I was unconscious with my friend in a vault for almost 12 hours that day, but I can tell you with utmost certainty: you're barking up the wrong tree.”

You sit back in your seat. They look shocked at how plainly you speak. You hope they didn't realize the fury in your eyes when they suggested you might rat Eddie out. Of all people. He's the last person you'd betray.

They ask you a million other questions. They even try to insinuate you might've cooked this up to help Eddie out with his finances, which you had no idea he was even having problems with.

It's all irrelevant. Everything else sounds irrelevant to your ears after they've asked about your fight with Eddie. Your answers are clipped, enough to be cooperative, but not enough to give them any false hope that they might be right.

The investigation fizzles out, and you're all found innocent, obviously. But they've taken Captain Nash away from you. It tips the carefully curated balance you've all got going on when Chim assumes the role of Interim Captain Han.

It's the most entertaining thing to have happened at the station, since Buck got fired. You have no idea why everyone hates it so much. You loved having Bobby Nash as your captain, but you wouldn't mind if he stayed on the bench a little longer.

To be fair, Howard Han is pretty much completely afraid of you.

He wouldn't be able to boss you around if he tried. And he has, many times. When you first joined the 118 as a probie, he tried to act as a guiding hand. It seemed more like he was just trying to get you to do everything he tells you to do, constantly.

So, when you got tired of it, you put him in his place. Very loudly. For thirty minutes. And he hasn't tried to order you to do anything since.

It's just the dynamic you two have. Him becoming a temporary replacement for Captain Nash will never change that.

That being said, you still miss having Cap around, so you decide to visit him.

You're sure you might be the unluckiest person alive, though, because it isn't Bobby who opens the door for you. It's the very last person you want to see. And he looks as stunned to see you as you are.

As you walk into Bobby's apartment, and set down the cookies you've brought over, you realize he has the same stunned look on his face as you and Eddie.

“What? You guys look like I've just caught you sharing dirty secrets,” you joke.

“Oh,” you realize.

They were probably talking about Shannon, or Christopher. Or anything else you have no business butting into. Maybe Bobby even knows about the kiss. God, you hope he doesn't.

“Never mind,” you counter.

You sit down beside Bobby. The awkward silence becomes a little too much to bear, so you decide to ignore Eddie's presence completely.

“Bobby, I have to tell you, I'm so incredibly entertained by Chimney playing captain,” you gush.

“Really?” Bobby questions, “Everyone's been saying the exact opposite.”

“Yeah, well. Howie's too afraid of me to try any of his weird power-play stuff on me,” you explain, popping open the Tupperware you brought to grab a cookie. You urge them to do the same.

“I've got free passes out of all of the boring stuff he's having everyone else do."

“How'd you do that?” Eddie asks, smiling into a bite of a cookie.

You're a little disoriented for a moment. It's the first time he's directly spoken to you since the... well, the thing. And it was completely by accident. You can tell by the way his eyes went wide right after.

Now, you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. You could respond, and lose your credibility in this ongoing contest to see who's going to initiate friendship first. Or you could ignore him and make this entire visit a hundred times more awkward.

You respond, for Bobby's sake, “It's a long story. Maybe later.”

You start talking about all of the interesting calls you've had since Bobby left, and Eddie listens intently, despite having already been there for most of them. He laughs at every joke and grins at every other word.

Sooner rather than later, you check your phone and notice you're about to be late to brunch with Hen.

Eddie watches your every movement, like he's been doing for the past hour.

He must think he's subtle, but he really isn't.

“I have to leave in ten, Cap,” you announce, “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright,” he says, “I'm booked and busy.”

“Yeah, uh, me too,” Eddie seems to realize, “I'm already twenty minutes late to lunch with the family.”

The family? You're sure Christopher has a physical therapy session right now, like he does every week.

Maybe he means Shannon? Why not say her name? Is he trying to spare you all the feeling of awkwardness when he mentions her in your presence? Or does he remember the things you told him the last time you...spoke. If you can even call it that.

He gets up to grab his coat, and hugs Cap goodbye. He spares you a long glance, too.

Before he can leave, Bobby speaks up.

“Hey, Eddie,” Bobby calls out to him, “I think you'll find the answer to your question within. You need to figure out how you feel.”

It sounds so cryptic, you're sure the question's related to his marriage somehow. It's the only reason Bobby wouldn't speak plainly.

So, you do your best to busy yourself getting your stuff together. Eddie does no such thing, though. He lets his eyes drift to you for a long moment, before nodding at Bobby.

“Wow. That's some Yoda shit. Has staying at home already made you wise beyond your many years, Bobby?” you joke.

Eddie laughs out loud as he closes the front door behind him.

A/N: if u remember what eddie asked bobby in 2.17 u get 10 points!

[buddierealm]

just gonna leave this here so u guys can interact to be put on a taglist for the eddie diaz series (mistakes never last)

also, part 5 should be out within 24 hours! i’m leaving a snippet from it under the cut. enjoy!

Depictions of a panic attack in the segment below! Beware!!

You shoot out of your seat and make your way into the nearest storage closet you can find, slamming the door shut. If you're about to break down, it might as well be private. You can hear Eddie call after you, but you pay him no mind. You slide down the floor and sit in a crouched position, letting the cold floor cool you down. Your face is running hot, you can barely hear your own heavy breathing with your mind running at 100 miles per hour, and it feels like someone's stabbed you in the stomach. You close your eyes tightly, trying to zero in on anything positive, but nothing comes up. And then Eddie walks in. He closes the door behind him gently, and you're too busy wigging out to tell him to leave you the fuck alone, please. He grabs something off of a shelf above you and bends down to sit beside you. “Hey,” he whispers, and your eyes turn to look at him. You're still freaking out but his voice is making this a little easier. “Take this, okay? Breathe into it for me,” he hands you a paper bag. You grab it desperately, and put it over your mouth. You focus on filling the bag up with air, and breathing it back in. Eddie whispers praises into the dark, with a steady hand on your shoulder. “You’re okay, cariño. You’re okay,” he tells you, “You’re doing so well.”

p.s. tysm if ur still following along :)

[buddierealm]

A new article and documentary have been released by the WODFF (Widows, Orphans & Disabled Firefighter’s Fund) from the set of 8x6: Confessions.

Tumblr just will not upload the video, so support it on their Youtube channel instead!

[buddierealm]

Buck going from an annoying wannabe frat boy in season 1 to a bisexual, borderline socially inept sweetie who stress bakes and wears aprons and whose biggest problem is that he just loves people too damn much is SO IMPORTANT to me

[buddierealm]

writing fics for this universe is a NIGHTMARE. just straight up inventing timelines bc time isn’t linear there apparently…

every day tim minear furthers my agenda of eddie being maybe four years older than buck AND still having been a very young father at maybe like 19 or 20. how, you might ask? well, timelines don't exist, you see. and they're definitely not supposed to make sense. we're operating purely on vibes. shannon's tombstone was prepped by some random props guy who was like "hmm this checks out". buck's hospital bracelet? a flirty wink for oliver stark. actually, it's 2021 in the 911 universe. sometimes it's 2024 and then it's 2025 the next week and then back to 2022. hen's birthday lasted two days. chris is fourteen but sometimes 17 and sometimes 12 years old. eddie is a late 80s / early 90s baby. buck is a 1990s millennial but in a different way than eddie because buck grew up on hannah montana and eddie has no fucking clue who that is. bobby is 60 but then he's 55 and sometimes it's like he should be in a home by now. chim is doing acrobatics at 55 because he's also 43 like maddie who's also 38. both buck and eddie remember blockbuster and neither one of them has ever watched glee. tommy is still around 48 pushing 60. buck and eddie are in love and very much a fertile age

[buddierealm]

EDDIE DIAZ 9-1-1 Season 8 Episode 13 'Invisible'

[buddierealm]

“it’s unrealistic that everyone would forget hen’s birthday!” i agree but it’s probably more unrealistic that a truck full of killer bees would form a tornado like shape and cause a plane malfunction that results in a little boy and a police officer having to land said plane on the freeway. so i’ll this one slide

[buddierealm]

RIP helena diaz you would have loved starring on dance moms

[buddierealm]

NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT — e. buckley x reader

Wordcount: 2.4k Summary: You come across something you weren't supposed to. You have mixed feelings. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a lil angsty, mentions of the lightning strike incident of 2023 (rip). A/N: based off of this! request. p.s. this request was tewww cute. tim, give this man a life partner PLEASE.

The key to your loft turns in the lock with a click. You sigh, as you stand at the door for a moment, unable to fully open it. You've been giving yourself a pep talk ever since the nurses at the hospital informed you that you'd have to leave and come back the next day, and you'd immediately decided you'd use the free time to bring Buck back some clothes and anything else he might need from home.

You try your hardest not to hate the State of California for making you leave his bedside, simply because you aren't married, as you slowly crack the door open. You step inside and breathe in the scent of mold.

Your face scrunches up as you walk into the kitchen. He'd left a pizza box on the counter before he'd gone on his shift. He's never been a fan of eating reheated pizza so it makes sense that he was saving the slices for later. It almost makes you cry to think about. Alas, you have to persevere and get the hell out of this loft.

So, you clean up around the kitchen and the living room, pulling the trash outside. It's all you can bear to do. You're sure you'll hire someone to clean around before he's discharged. Even though you love your boyfriend very much, there's no way you're taking care of this place alone. Pointedly ignoring the mess downstairs, you make your way up the stairwell and into the bedroom.

The mess of clothes on the floor makes your heart ache. Buck almost always left the house a mess before a shift, but he'd always been back to put everything into place again. You make your way into the bathroom first, packing a toiletry bag with all of the essentials. After a little bit of acrobatics, you manage to pull a bunch of hangers down from his abnormally high closet space and pack a few outfits into the bag you're preparing.

As you make your way around the room, grabbing anything that'll remind him of home, you realize you almost forgot one of the most important things: Socks. Of course you'd forget something so necessary, and instead focus on all of the trivial things he could want.

You make your way to his sock drawer. You pull out his favorites, and some of the most comfortable-looking pairs. As you turn to close the drawer shut though, you spot a small, velvet box. It looks incredibly out of place. It definitely isn't supposed to be there. What's he hiding? You begin to think of all of the different possibilities, and now you can't leave without opening it up and looking inside.

You grab the box, and after neatly placing everything into the bag, you sit down on the bed and contemplate opening it. It's okay, he won't mind, you tell yourself. You two have never kept anything from each other. Really. You're attached at the hip, and when he isn't around, you're constantly texting to talk about the most insignificant things. There's no way he's intentionally keeping whatever's in there a secret.

You're not sure you have the willpower to deny yourself the knowledge anyway, so you go ahead and click open the box. Your breathing stops for a moment, and if it were possible, your heart would've skipped a few beats too. Evan isn't even in the room, and he's managed to render you completely stock-still. Technically, you'd done that to yourself, but, still.

In the box, is a perfectly cut diamond ring. It's the kind of ring you have plastered all over your Pinterest board, in private sections named things like 'dream ring,' or 'rings i'd say yes to.' The kind people propose with, you note. Any other day, you'd be absolutely soaring with happiness. Today, though, the ring leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. It feels like the universe is playing some kind of horrible trick on you.

The man you love should be on one knee, and you should be screaming a very definitive 'yes' at him, as you catch sight of this ring for the first time. Instead, you're in your shared loft, alone, packing a hospital bag for him. The tears that threaten to stream down your face are an accumulation of the stress you've been experiencing for the last few days. You wish it were different, you wish he was awake, and you wish you could run up to him, kiss him, completely ruin his surprise, and tell him he needs to find better hiding spots. But there's still absolutely nowhere else you'd rather be.

You've always known that if you picked every piece of yourself apart, took out every trace of him and then glued yourself back together, you'd still love the hell out of Evan Buckley. He's an irremovable part of you, and the indescribable way you feel every day as you walk into his hospital room is a testament to that. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand, because you notice they've started staining the gorgeous box he chose, and stare at the ring a little closer.

Once the shock wears off, you rise from your place on the edge of the bed and put the ring box back where it was. You fix yourself up in the mirror quickly as you realize visitation's about to be open again. You pick the bag up and make your way out the door, but not before sneaking a quick glance at the ring again.

Damn, it's perfect.

When he wakes up, it's like the world's started spinning again. You're pretty sure the sun glows a little brighter, too. You almost cry, but you hold it together pretty well for him. He wakes up to you sitting beside him, his hand in yours. You don't leave his side as he eats, even when he's bombarded with the 118's demands that they had to see him immediately after.

An hour later. when it's only you, Eddie, Chris, and Buck in the room, you bring your chair as close as possible to his hospital bed. You place your hand onto his cheek and give him a quick peck on the lips. It serves to ground you both, reminding the two of you that he's still alive and well.

When you pull away to take a seat, your hand still where it was, he turns his head to bring your palm to his lips in a kiss. Then, he returns his head to the original position, a delirious smile on his face. You rub your thumb along his cheek.

"You breathing okay?" you ask, a little concerned.

"Yeah, I am now," he flirts, his smile never leaving his mouth.

You roll your eyes, "You're so corny."

"I never win with you, do I? Do I have to actually, permanently die for you to cut me some slack?" he complains.

Your eyes narrow, you smack him gently across the head. He just gasps dramatically, almost immediately falling into a fit of laughter.

"Don't ever say anything like that to me again," you warn him, your voice growing a little wobbly.

"You'd think she'd be used to my sense of humor by now," he jokes, looking at Eddie.

You shake your head and press a kiss to where you'd smacked him a few seconds ago. God, you'd missed him. Always so childish, and always, always exactly what you need in moments like these. When you're barely holding yourself together and even a wince in pain from him could send you off the edge.

You bring over his bag and start setting up the bits and pieces you brought him from home , as he makes conversation with everyone who comes by to visit. When you leave for a coffee and come back, you can hear him ask Eddie a quiet question.

"Hey, who packed that bag?" he says so quietly, it's almost a whisper.

You drift quickly into the room and respond before Eddie can.

"Eddie did," you lie, and make sure to shoot him an intimidating look so he plays along.

Buck sighs loudly, and he looks a little less tense. "Okay. I thought with my luck you'd have packed it," he blurts out.

"Why would that be unlucky?" you ask pointedly, and you catch Eddie snickering in the corner of your eye. Because of course, he knows.

Your eyes narrow. Of course you know too, but you wanna see him squirm a little anyway. And squirm he does. He tries his hardest to lie to you, too. He's always been so painfully bad at it though.

"Uh, uhm," he says, clearly flustered, and then turns to Eddie for a rescue.

"He just means he didn't want to stress you out any more than you were probably stressed, y'know," Eddie responds for him.

"Ah, of course. I'm sure that's what he meant," you tease, sharing a knowing look with Eddie.

You can already tell this is going to be a very difficult secret for you to keep.

Buck dying and coming back to life is definitely not the easiest thing your relationship has had to endure. Your home has become an endless revolving door of visits from everyone you and Buck know.

In the grand scheme of things, though, this isn't the most difficult part. The most difficult part is knowing he's had that ring in the house for God knows how long, and now you both have to wait even longer for it to be taken out. It gets to a point where you contemplate proposing to him yourself, but that's just insane. The guy's barely holding himself together. It actually feels like he isn't even sure he's alive somedays.

When it gets bad, you do your best to ground him. It's a gesture he's eternally grateful for. It just seems like he might need some time to get it together before you take any big steps. Somewhere along the way you figure out that you just have to tell him what you saw. It'll ruin the surprise element, but that's probably better than the way this secret is eating you alive.

So, five days after he's been discharged, you break the news as gently as possible. Which turns out being a little lacking in that department, considering you've needed to get this out since he woke up.

"So, how long have you had that ring that's in your sock drawer?" you ask casually, as you both rewatch a sitcom on the couch.

He nearly chokes on his beer, clearing his throat loudly.

"You saw that?" he asks, incredulously.

You nod pointedly, and he turns around fully to look at you. You don't back down, though, narrowing your eyes at him. He sighs in defeat, grabbing the remote to pause the TV.

"I just...I bought it a while before the hospital," he confesses, "I bought it when I realized I wanted to marry you."

You bring your hand up to his cheek.

"Really? Wow, I'm impressed. I didn't know you could keep a secret for a few days, let alone a few months," you joke, watching him grimace.

“The ring actually isn’t that new,” Buck clarifies.

Your sweet, caring boyfriend looks down at the ground like he’s about to confess his deepest, darkest secret.

“Well, I hope this doesn’t freak you out, but I bought it a month after we started dating. It’s been in my closet ever since,” he whispers so lowly, you almost can’t hear him.

Your eyes grow wide in shock, but your mouth twists into a wild grin. He’s known he's wanted to marry you a month into dating?! It’s a terrifying thought, but it’s also equally exhilarating. You think you have too, maybe you’ve even known since you met him. You just haven’t fully embraced it until now, at least not as palpably as he has.

“I, uh,” you sigh, “I mean…how were you so sure?”

“I wasn’t,” he responds, and you deflate slightly.

He shakes his head, and continues, “I didn’t know exactly. But I did know a couple of things. I knew that I’d already had so many different relationships, with all kinds of people."

"I knew that no one had ever made me feel as warm as you," he grabs both of your hands, "I mean, meeting you was like finally seeing light after so many years of living in the dark."

He pauses for a moment as one of his hands dips out of your sight, "I also knew I wanted that feeling forever.”

He pulls something from his left pocket. It's the very same velvet box that's been on your mind ever since you'd opened it. You're too stunned to speak, too stunned to react in any way at all. You can't believe you'd ruined your own proposal twice now. Your eyebrows are scrunched up so hard, so you can't bring yourself to cry.

He looks down at the box in his hand, “So, I walked into the pawn shop across the street and bought this right away.”

"I was going to do this a little later in the night, when we both had a few glasses of that expensive wine you like in us, and everyone was about to arrive, but..."

He gets on one knee in front of you, "you seem very eager to become the next Mrs.Buckley. I won't keep you waiting any longer."

A/N: evan buckley u are so wifey material, let me wife u up pls.