femmekarenwilson

[femmekarenwilson]

HEN: And I can't imagine my life without you. CHIMNEY: And you're never gonna have to.

[femmekarenwilson]

Bobby in 8x08

[femmekarenwilson]

Peter Krause as Robert "Bobby" Nash 9-1-1, S01E02

[femmekarenwilson]

me thinking about drunk buck again? shocker

"You know my boyf—mm, no, my ex b’yfrienddd," Buck slurred, pointing vaguely at the man sitting beside him. The guy— some guy named Jake, or maybe Jade... something like that—just nodded like this was the most riveting conversation of his life. "Mmm yes, he is my ex now. Anyway, he was great! No, no, wait, he’s my ex, he’s awful, you see."

The dude hummed in agreement, his lips twitching upward as if he were trying not to laugh. "Seems like it," he said mildly.

Buck squinted not looking at him. "You—you don’t even know him. He’s... complicated. Like, the most annoying person on the planet but also... amazing." He let out a deep, melodramatic sigh and took another sip from his glass. "He does this thing, this... smirk thing, and it’s like—like he knows everything about me, and it drives me insane. Ugh."

"That does sound annoying," the man—Jake said, tilting his head in mock sympathy.

"Right?!" Buck exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the counter. "But then he’d do something stupidly nice like, I don’t know, make me breakfast when I didn’t even ask or fix my stupid shelf that broke because I’m bad at, uh, shelves. And suddenly, I’m like, 'Wow, maybe I’ll just marry this guy.' But noooooo. He had to go and—ugh—be right. About everything."

Jake didn’t say anything, just quirked an eyebrow as Buck kept rambling.

"And now he’s my ex. You heard that part, right? My ex!” Buck hiccuped, slapping his hand over his mouth. "Oops. Sorry. Excuse me."

"Forgiven," Jake said, his tone unreadable. He sipped his drink like this was just another Tuesday.

Buck frowned at him, his drunk brain scrambling for something clever to say. He failed. "You’re very chill, you know that? Like... annoyingly chill. You remind me of him. My ex. I don’t like it. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. Ughhh."

“Must’ve been quite the guy."

Buck sighed, the weight of the world settling onto his shoulders. "He was. He... he really was."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence felt heavy, like it was trying to tell Buck something he couldn’t quite hear. Then he hiccuped again, breaking the spell.

"You’re cool, though," Buck muttered, waving his glass at the guy before tipping it back. "Not like him. But also... kinda like him. Weird."

Jake just smiled faintly, not saying a word.

Buck leaned heavily on the counter, staring at his empty glass like it was the source of all his problems. "You don’t get it. He’s the worst. Like... so smug. Always thinking he knows everything. And you know what? He doesn’t! He doesn’t know me! He doesn’t—hiccup—know what I want. No one does!" He jabbed his finger at the man beside him for emphasis.

Jake, still calm as ever, took a sip of his drink and nodded. "Sounds like a real piece of work."

Buck whipped his head around so fast he nearly fell off the stool. "Whoa, hey! You don’t get to say that," he snapped, his words slurring but his glare surprisingly sharp.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Why not? You just said it."

"Yeah, but—" Buck flailed his hands dramatically, nearly knocking his glass off the counter. "I can say it. I dated him. You? You don’t even know him! You’re just some... some random guy!"

"Fair point," Jake said with a shrug, but there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Buck narrowed his eyes, his very drunk brain working overtime to keep up. "He’s not that bad, okay? I mean, yeah, he’s annoying and bossy and—" He paused, gesturing vaguely as if the words were just out of reach. "And stubborn. But he’s also, like... thoughtful and—" His voice softened, almost wistful. "Kind. He cared. About me. About everyone. Even when he didn’t say it out loud."

Jake hummed, his tone unreadable. "Doesn’t sound so awful."

"Exactly!" Buck said, throwing his hands up. "That’s what I’m saying! He’s... ugh, he’s the worst best person I’ve ever met. And now he’s gone. And it’s my fault." His voice cracked at the end, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending to study the wood grain of the bar.

"Maybe it’s not your fault," Jake offered, his voice quieter now.

Buck laughed bitterly. "Oh, it is. I mean, I wanted him to stay. I asked him to stay. But he was all, like, 'You’re still figuring yourself out,' and 'I’m your first, not your last.' Like, what does that even mean?!"

Jake’s expression flickered—something Buck couldn’t quite name, not in his current state. "Maybe he thought he was doing the right thing."

"Yeah, well, it wasn’t!" Buck snapped, slamming his hand down on the counter. "It wasn’t the right thing for me. I didn’t want right, I wanted him. And now I’m here, talking to you, and he’s... I don’t even know where he is."

Jake didn’t respond right away, just sat there, his drink untouched. After a moment, he said, "Maybe he’s closer than you think."

Buck frowned, squinting like the words were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But before he could ask what that was supposed to mean, another hiccup cut him off, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"You’re weird," he mumbled through his fingers. "Why are you even listening to me?"

Jake chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar in a way that tugged at something deep in Buck’s chest. "I guess I’m just a sucker for a good story."

"He is!" Buck said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "He’s—ugh. He’s just this guy, you know? But not just a guy. He’s... he’s smart, and thoughtful, and really good at all the boring, practical stuff I suck at. Like, he can fix anything. He once rebuilt an engine in his garage for fun! Who does that?!" Buck paused, hiccupping before continuing. "And he has this way of looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, even when you’re being a complete idiot. Especially when you’re being a complete idiot. And then, just when you think you’ve got him figured out, he’ll say something so... so him—and it’s exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn’t want to."

His voice cracked, and he dropped his gaze to his empty glass. "He made me feel like... like maybe I was worth sticking around for, you know? But then he left anyway. So what does that say about me?"

Buck groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I don’t even know why I’m talking about him. He’s gone, and he probably doesn’t think about me at all anymore."

"Maybe he does," Jake said, his voice calm but carrying a weight Buck couldn’t quite process in his state.

Buck snorted, his head wobbling as he tried to look at Jake. "Nah. He’s too busy being perfect somewhere else. Fixing things, smirking at someone else, probably making them breakfast now." His voice cracked again, and he slumped forward, leaning heavily on the counter. "It’s not fair. I don’t want to miss him, but I do. All the time. Every damn day."

Jake stayed quiet for a moment, swirling the remnants of his drink. "Sounds like you really loved him."

Buck blinked blearily at Jake. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Still do. But it doesn’t matter. He left."

"Maybe he thought you deserved better," Jake murmured, his tone so soft Buck almost missed it.

"Better?" Buck slurred, laughing bitterly. "There’s no better. He was better. He was it. And I messed it up."

Jake leaned back, his eyes studying Buck for a long moment. "Maybe he thought he was the one who messed it up."

Buck frowned at that, the words bouncing around in his drunken mind without fully landing. He opened his mouth to respond, but a yawn caught him off guard, and his head lolled forward slightly.

"Okay," Jake said, standing up and patting Buck’s shoulder. "Let’s get you home before you pass out here."

"I’m not—" Buck started to protest, but his words dissolved into another yawn. "Fine. Whatever. But only ’cause you’re so... so good at listening, Jake."

Jake chuckled, sliding Buck’s arm around his shoulders as he helped him off the stool. "Sure, that’s why."

The trip to the loft was a blur for Buck, his head bobbing as he mumbled fragments of sentences. "He used to—hiccup—used to cook pancakes on Sundays," he muttered as they walked. "Never liked syrup, though. Just butter. Who doesn’t like syrup?"

Jake made a noncommittal noise, holding Buck steady as they reached the loft.

When they reached the loft, Buck fumbled with his keys before Jake gently took them from him and unlocked the door. Inside, Buck stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Whoa, easy there," Jake said, catching him with an arm around his waist. "We’re not done yet. Bed’s upstairs, right?"

Buck blinked at him, bleary-eyed, before nodding vaguely in the direction of the stairs. "Yeah... stairs. Stupid stairs. Who needs stairs anyway? I should just sleep right here." He sagged slightly, leaning heavily into Jake.

Jake sighed, adjusting Buck’s arm over his shoulders. "Come on, you’re almost there."

They moved toward the stairs, Buck dragging his feet and muttering incomprehensibly. Jake tightened his hold, practically lifting him as they climbed. "You’re heavier than you look, you know that?" Jake muttered under his breath.

"’M not heavy," Buck slurred, his head lolling against Jake’s shoulder. "You’re just... weak. Bet you’ve never carried someone out of a fire or... or something heroic like that."

Jake smirked faintly, his voice low and even. "You’d be surprised."

By the time they reached the top, Buck was practically draped over Jake, who maneuvered him carefully toward the bed. He eased Buck down onto the mattress, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him as Buck flopped back with a groan.

"Finally," Buck mumbled, eyes half-closed. "Hate those stairs. Hate... everything."

Jake crouched down to untie Buck’s shoes, his movements steady and practiced, as though this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it from here," he said softly.

Buck blinked down at him, his vision swimming. "You’re... nice," he mumbled. "Too nice. You don’t even... you don’t even know me." He hiccupped, his head lolling to one side. "I mean, you’re here, so you’re not that bad. But… you’re not him."

Jake’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second before he resumed tugging off Buck’s shoes.

"He’d probably—hiccup—he’d probably say I’m too much. Like I push too hard, or I don’t stop to think. But I just… I just try, you know? Maybe I try too much..." Buck’s voice cracked, and he let out a breathy laugh. "And now look. No one’s here."

Jake paused, his jaw tightening as he set the shoes neatly by the bed. He glanced up briefly, something flickering across his face, but Buck didn’t notice.

Jake’s hands moved to unbutton Buck’s jeans, and Buck let out a tired laugh. "I’m not... I’m not that kinda guy, Jake."

Jake snorted softly. "Relax. You’re safe."

He eased the jeans off and set them aside, then reached for Buck’s shirt. Buck swatted weakly at him but barely had the energy to protest. "You’re... too good at this. Bet you’re a pro at babysitting drunk idiots."

"Something like that," Jake murmured, pulling the blanket up and tucking it snugly around Buck’s shoulders. For a moment, his hand lingered on the edge of the blanket, his eyes scanning Buck’s face as if committing him to memory.

Buck stirred, his eyes fluttering half-open. "I miss him," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. His hand flailed clumsily for a second before it landed on Jake’s arm. "Tell him... I miss him."

Jake froze, his jaw tightening as he looked down at Buck. Then he covered Buck’s hand with his own, his thumb brushing against his knuckles for a brief moment. "I’ll tell him," he said softly, even though Buck was already slipping into sleep.

Jake placed a water bottle and some pills on the bedside table, his movements quiet and deliberate. He lingered there for a beat, his gaze heavy with something unspoken.

Leaning down, Jake brushed his fingers lightly through Buck’s curls, his voice low and warm as he whispered, "I don’t even look like a Jake, Evan."

Buck stirred slightly, a faint furrow in his brow, but his eyes stayed closed. Jake Tommy pulled back, hesitating for just a moment before slipping out, leaving the loft in silence.

[femmekarenwilson]

buddie emergency blood transfusion in the field and the daniel and connor+kameron of it all. buck would be soooo relieved if his blood could flow right into eddies body. it would be like. completeness. making up for everything his body ever failed to do by using it to save eddie. and eddie would lie there the whole time gritting his teeth thinking things like "your body isn't just pieces to give away". when buck finally notices he's gonna be like "are you... MAD at me right now??? you'd do the same fucking thing for me!" and eddie delirious from blood loss still has it in him to spit, "I'd do it for you. you'd die for fucking anyone" and then he'd pass out so buck gets to sit there and think about that all alone.

[femmekarenwilson]

911 gif meme: [1/5] Friendships: Bobby Nash & Howard "Howie/Chimney" Han

[femmekarenwilson]

Yeah, okay, forget that word. We don't need to go that far.

[femmekarenwilson]

hi, evan

[femmekarenwilson]

RYAN GUZMAN as EDMUNDO "EDDIE" DIAZ 9-1-1 - S05 E11 · Outside Looking In

[femmekarenwilson]

oh oh oh! a lie. buddie flavored bucktommy's an obvious choice, but buddie if you're up for the challenge.

Someone else requested "a lie" with bucktommy, so I decided on buddie! This also got a little long, so here's the first chunk—the rest is on the archive.

28. as a lie

Chris’s fifteenth birthday falls on a Tuesday, and it couldn’t be more different from last year. Chris’s actual party is going to be on Saturday—he’s inviting a bunch of his buddies to the movies to see the new Spiderman, and then they’re all hanging out at the mall and getting dinner, totally unsupervised, before coming back to the house for cake, where Eddie is expected to make himself scarce. (Buck is coming over to help set up for the party, and then he plans to hang out with Eddie in the kitchen for the rest of the night.) 

But on the actual Tuesday, Chris graciously allows Buck and Eddie to take him out to dinner at his favorite restaurant on Olvera Street. They eat delicious enchiladas and chile rellenos and tamales and fajitas (Eddie and Buck split theirs; Chris jealously guards his enchiladas but steals bites off their plates anyway.) Chris gets a virgin margarita and Buck gets a real margarita and Eddie laughs at the way they both lick the salt off the rim in one big salty swirl while sipping his modelo. Buck gives Chris his present first: a new pair of high-end wireless headphones that wirecutter says are perfect for the gamer in your life. Chris beams at him and puts them around his neck immediately, and Buck gets a quick pleased hug, a wave of Chris’s overenthusiastic teenage application of cologne still somehow the best possible smell. 

Then Eddie gives Chris his present—concert tickets to see Bad Bunny, one for Chris, one for Eddie, and one for a friend. Chris shrieks and lurches across the table to give Eddie a hug, and Buck watches his Diaz boys hugging each other and smiles so hard his face hurts. He can feel his nose starting to go, his eyes stinging up. He’s just so proud of them, so happy they found their way back to each other that it hurts, somewhere deep and sweet in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Chris says as he gets back to his seat, excitement making his words trip over themselves. “Thank you, Dad, thank you.” 

Eddie looks a little misty himself, wiping his eyes as he settles all the way back against the booth. “Glad you like it.” 

Last year, Buck helped Eddie decorate his living room for a zoom call, and then twenty minutes later he helped take all the decorations down, sharing heavy looks with Tommy while Eddie stepped into the kitchen to take a minute to himself. Buck let the moment stretch as long as he could bear, and then went into the kitchen to find Eddie throwing a plate of untouched cupcakes into the trash. 

“Well, I think this calls for some birthday flan,” Buck says hoarsely, and Eddie shoots him a quick grateful look, taps his foot against Buck’s under the table.

Read the rest on ao3

[femmekarenwilson]

buddie + 7 for the ask prompt please 🥰

7…to shut them up.

Buck's hands are shaking. That's the detail Eddie can't stop fixating on—the little tremble of Buck's hands on his knees, like something terrible is happening, like they're in an ER waiting to hear if someone they love is going to make it, not sitting in a living room on a sunny day. Buck's talking a mile a minute, because of course he is.

"So," Buck is saying, and he would sound almost casual if it weren't for the hands. "So, I know it's a bigger deal to just drop in on you now that you're, like, 807 miles away instead of a twenty minute drive, but uh, you did say anytime."

"I meant it," Eddie says, honestly, and Buck gives a fast, awkward laugh. He thinks about putting one hand over Buck's, just to still the tremble.

He's been in Texas a month. He said goodbye to Buck at LAX, and he thought—well, he thought it was going to be a hell of a lot longer before he saw him again. Buck had gone in for a hug, and Eddie had—touched his face, when they were pulling apart, an instinctive thing that zinged up his whole arm, Buck's cheek cupped in his hand, Buck's misery-red eyes staring back at him. And now he's sitting on Eddie's couch. Eddie's whole body feels heavy, limp with relief.

"Great!" Buck says. "I'm so glad. Um, and I love the house. The neighborhood seems good. You've got, um, I drove past a park. Is it a good park?" "Did you drive straight through?" It's twelve hours. Eddie's counted.

Buck's hands dart up to his hair, scrub through the frizzing curls. Buck is here! Buck is in the room! Buck is still trembling. "Yeah," Buck says. "Well." He stands up, abruptly, from where he'd followed Eddie to the couch, the familiar blue couch in a still unfamiliar room. Eddie stands, too; Buck paces. "I really like the neighborhood." "You said that."

"That's cause it's good."

"Buck," Eddie says, and takes a step towards him. Buck backs up, skittish, and the panic is visible on his face now, reddening his eyes, doing something miserable to the line of his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Buck blurts out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung a trip on you like this. Chris is still adjusting, I don't wanna mess up your rhythm."

"He's gonna be thrilled to see you," Eddie says, and takes another step closer to Buck; Buck takes two steps back, and hits the wall.

"Still," Buck says, too fast. "Still, I shouldn't have—it was selfish. To come out here. Like this."

The heaviness is still in Eddie's limbs, but it's not dragging him down, it's steadying him. His heart is a sweet pang in his ribcage. "Why did you come out," Eddie whispers. It just feels right.

Buck's mouth wobbles. "Um," he says. "I—tell me to shut up, Eddie, tell me I'm getting this whole thing wrong, but—I mean, the texts have been—and it's been exhausting trying to, like, live my life without you, and I kept thinking about—at the airport, you, um, I felt like maybe there was a moment."

"A moment." He steps in again, and this time Buck can't move. Eddie has him.

Buck nods. "Tell me I'm wrong," he says, nodding again, close enough to touch. He's looking at Eddie's mouth, not at Eddie's eyes, begging. "Tell me I've got it totally backwards, and I'll shut the hell up, get right back in the car. Well, not literally, I'm wiped, but—"

Eddie kisses him, hand on Buck's chest so he can feel his hammering heartbeat. Buck makes a frantic, relieved sound into Eddie's mouth and cups Eddie's face with trembling hands, like he's repaying that touch a month later. They kiss until they need to breathe, and then Eddie tips their foreheads together, keeps his eyes closed, keeps breathing Buck's air. "I missed you," Buck says, because of course he can't stop talking, his thumb stroking over the soft skin under Eddie's ear. "Eddie, I missed you so fucking bad."

Eddie doesn't know what to do, how they're going to make this work, how to figure things out so none of them are miserable, Eddie and the people he loves. The odds are stacked against them; he and Shannon had a lifetime, and they never figured it out. He puts worry to the side for now, and kisses Buck again.

[femmekarenwilson]

the internet is for

“He lives in Canada,” Eddie shouts from the kitchen island, where he's been tossing grapes into his mouth for the last few minutes. He catches one and drops his head as he chews, leveling Chim and Hen with a significant look. “Buck has an Internet boyfriend who lives in Canada.” Chim and Hen let out a chorus of “Ohhh,” as realization dawns, while Buck shoots Eddie an irritated glare. “So, he's being catfished,” Chim nods, everything aligning and making infinitely more sense. “Got it.”

or: the Canadian BF AU

read it on ao3

[femmekarenwilson]

moon barks at the dog tonight, weep with me in 4/4 time

[femmekarenwilson]

911 gif meme: [1/4] Ships☆ Maddie and Chimney "We always find our way back to each other somehow."

[femmekarenwilson]

a house in the snow

[femmekarenwilson]

well, that’s the reason why i’m here

rated t | bucktommy | 5.9k

Tommy lets the call go to the third ring before he answers. “Hey,” he says, trying his best to sound casual. “Hey Tommy.” Evan sounds worn down, defeated. He sounds like he’s in the fourth round of a fight and is losing badly. “Do you, uh, do you have a minute?” I’d give you any minute you asked for, Tommy thinks. Every minute if I wasn’t such a fucking- “Yeah, sure. What’s up?” “Listen, uh, Eddie- Eddie’s moving. He’s going back to Texas. Chris won’t come back so he’s- he’s going to be closer to his son. Doesn’t want to keep missing big moments, you know? So- so, uh, we’re having a going away party for him on Friday. You’re invited.” “Oh,” Tommy breathes, his mind racing. Another loss for both of them. “Oh, that’s- wow. Are- are you okay?” Evan huffs. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that.” That can't be true. In Evan's entire extensive support network, no one has asked him how he's handling his best friend moving out of state? “That’s a surprise. You sound awful.” “Uh, thanks?” “Sorry,” Tommy winces. “Too blunt?” “No, uh, I- I appreciate the honesty, actually. I always-“ Evan clears his throat. “Anyway, no. I’m not okay. Not, uh, not really even a little. But I’m trying to not make this about me. I know Chris comes first. Chris should always come first. I just- I really thought…” Evan trails off with a bitter laugh. “You really thought what?” Tommy asks. “Nothing, it’s- nevermind.” “Evan,” Tommy says seriously. He doesn’t second-guess himself. He doesn’t want the emotional distance that saying ‘Buck’ would create. He wants to talk to Evan. Another bitter laugh. It’s not a sound that Tommy has ever heard from Evan before tonight. It’s mean and self-deprecating in a way Tommy has never known Evan to be. There’s a pause, and then Evan’s voice comes across the line small and wobbly and thick. “I thought he was the one person who’d never leave me.”

{read on ao3}

tags under the cut:

@dadbodbuck @bucksbignaturals @loucifersbitch @buckevantommy @rcmclachlan

@wikiangela @rdng1230 @cliophilyra @hellion-child @kinardevans

[femmekarenwilson]

911 gif meme: [1/6] Characters: Howard "Howie"/"Chimney" Han Played by Kenneth Choi