#and of course ~buck sleeping on eddie's couch~ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elihermit · 1 month ago

Text

let’s ruin the friendship

— part four (part one | part two | part three)

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after a painful break, you gave Buck the chance to fix everything. But it seems that no matter how much you try – nothing is working out…

word count: 3,5k

author’s note: guys, I’m finally finishing this series and I think it’s my favorite part😭 let me know what you think in the comments and thank you for reading this story🫶🏼

| p.s. requests are open🫧

9-1-1 Masterlist

taglist: @notmeduhh @staygolf @tamajiki7

Throwback

Yet, as the days turned into weeks, the shadows of your past began to creep back in. Old insecurities resurfaced, and the fear of being abandoned again gnawed at your heart. You found yourself questioning every little thing - every late-night text, every moment of silence. Was he truly committed, or was he just saying what you wanted to hear?

Then came the night that changed everything. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when a notification popped up. It was a message from Eddie, but it wasn't just any message. It was a photo. A very controversial photo.

It was a photo.

Buck.

At a bar.

His arm draped around a woman’s shoulders — someone you’d never seen before.

Both of them mid-laugh, faces tilted toward each other like they’d known each other for years.

The caption cut through you like a knife: “Crazy night! Old friends back in town 🎉”

Your chest tightened so fast it knocked the air out of you.

You sat frozen, staring at the screen, a slow, suffocating cold blooming in your gut.

Of course.

You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the phone so hard your knuckles ached. For a second, you thought you might hurl it across the room, shatter it just to stop seeing that image — but you didn’t. You just sat there, trembling, as every sharp, ugly thought came roaring back.

Had you been a fool to believe him?

To believe in second chances, in apologies, in the way his voice cracked when he told you he was “working on it”?

Had it all been a lie?

Your phone buzzed again.

Hen.

“Saw the photo on his story. Just wanted to say… breathe. Maybe talk to him first.”

You let out a shaky, humorless laugh.

Talk to him?

What was there to say? That you’d barely held yourself together these past months, clinging to the hope that the two of you were rebuilding something real? That every time you let your guard down, you wondered if you were just handing him another weapon to hurt you with? That some nights, you still woke up reaching for him, heart racing, only to remember he wasn’t there — because you’d been the one to leave?

God, you were pathetic.

You stared at the photo again, your vision blurring with hot, furious tears.

It wasn’t the woman. It wasn’t the bar.

It was the fact that somewhere, deep down, you’d always known this was coming.

People don’t change.

Not really.

You let the phone slip from your hand, landing with a dull thud on the couch cushion.

You sat in the suffocating silence of your apartment, the weight of heartbreak pressing down until you felt hollow, until you weren’t sure there was even anything left to break.

You had wanted to believe love was enough. That if you waited, if you fought, if you forgave, eventually you’d both come out the other side, whole.

But maybe the cruelest truth of all was this:

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough.

---

The next morning, your phone buzzed again.

Buck.

“That photo looked bad, I know. But nothing happened. Please, let’s talk.”

You stared at the message, the words blurring together.

You could almost hear his voice, almost feel the way his arms would wrap around you if you let them.

But you didn’t reply.

You set the phone down, your chest aching, your throat tight.

You weren’t ready to talk.

You weren’t sure you ever would be.

For the first time, you realized the choice was yours.

Not his.

Yours.

And maybe — just maybe — you were finally done waiting for him to catch up.

That same night, you couldn’t sleep.

You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a sick mix of anger, longing, and exhaustion. His text burned a hole in your chest. You hated that part of you still wanted to believe him. Hated that part of you still loved him.

Before you could overthink it, you sat up, shoved on your jacket, grabbed your keys.

You were done waiting.

If this was going to break you, you wanted to face it head-on.

His apartment door loomed in front of you like a dare.

You raised your hand to knock — and then the door swung open.

Buck stood there, wide-eyed, barefoot, hair a mess, like he’d been pacing, waiting for this moment.

“(Y/N),” he breathed. “You’re here.”

You held yourself stiff, arms crossed, your voice ice-cold. “Explain.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “God, Buck. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I swear —” he stepped closer, desperate — “she’s an old friend. From back home. She’s married, (Y/N), I didn’t even —”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Your voice cracked. “Why did I have to see it on Instagram like everyone else?”

His face crumpled. “I messed up.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, chest heaving. “You did.”

He took a shaky breath, eyes glassy. “I’ve been going to therapy. Trying to be better. For you. For us. But every day without you, I felt like I was drowning. And when she came to town, it was just… familiar, easy. I wasn’t thinking. I should have told you. I was scared.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, fists clenched at your sides. “Scared of what, Buck? That I’d leave you? Newsflash — I already did once.”

Silence stretched between you, raw and heavy.

When you opened your eyes, you saw it: the panic, the regret, the sheer vulnerability on his face.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

Tears blurred your vision. You shook your head, voice barely a breath. “Love was never the problem, Buck.”

He stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat of him. “Then tell me how to fix this. Tell me what you need. Please.”

You swallowed hard. You could feel the walls around your heart crumbling, the part of you that had always, always wanted to believe him.

“Start by proving,” you whispered, “that I’m not just something you run back to when you’re lonely.”

His hands trembled as he reached for you — but he didn’t touch you. Not yet.

“I will,” he swore, voice hoarse. “I swear, I will.”

For the first time that night, you let yourself believe it was possible.

Not easy.

Not certain.

But maybe, just maybe, worth the fight.

The days that followed blurred into a haze.

Buck texted, he called, he showed up.

He left little notes on your door —

“Thinking of you.”

“Miss you.”

“Please let me prove this.”

He sent you photos of the little changes: the therapy sessions, the long runs he took alone just to clear his head.

And for a while, you let him.

You watched from a distance.

You listened.

You waited.

But inside, something was breaking.

You were so tired.

Tired of riding the highs when he was trying and crashing into the lows when he wasn’t.

Tired of wondering when the next disappointment would hit.

Tired of feeling like you were holding your breath, hoping this time would be different.

One night, weeks after that first confrontation, you sat across from him at your favorite old coffee shop.

He looked at you like you hung the stars.

His eyes were soft, raw, desperate.

He was rambling about the progress he’d made, the mistakes he’d owned, the way he was learning to show up better.

“I know I screwed up,” he murmured, reaching across the table for your hand. “But you’re it for me, (Y/N). You always were. I just… I was too stupid to realize it before.”

You felt his fingers close around yours.

Warm. Familiar.

You used to dream of this touch.

But now?

You stared down at your intertwined hands and felt… nothing.

No spark. No thrill. No desperate, aching hope.

Just a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

“Buck…” you whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “What? No — no, please, I’m trying. I’m fighting for you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I wanted you to fight before I was too tired to care.”

The words hung in the air like a gut punch.

He let go of your hand like you’d burned him. His breath hitched, hands shaking as he dragged them through his hair.

“(Y/N), please — I see it now, okay? You’re it. You’re the one I want. I can’t lose you, not like this.”

You let out a soft, broken laugh. “You didn’t just lose me now, Buck. You’ve been losing me in pieces. Every time you made me doubt, every time you left me wondering if I mattered, every time you promised you’d change and didn’t.”

His face crumpled.

“Don’t say that.”

You reached across the table, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch like a starving man.

“I love you,” you whispered. “I will probably always love you.”

Your voice cracked. “But I need something you can’t seem to give me, Buck. I need stability. I need to feel safe with you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking. “I can be that. I swear I can.”

But you saw it — the fragility, the desperation, the way he was clinging to you like you were his only lifeline.

And you knew: you couldn’t be his lifeline.

Not anymore.

You stood slowly, heart breaking in your chest.

“I’m not saying never,” you whispered. “But I’m saying… not right now.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, glassy. “(Y/N), don’t —”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Fight for yourself first, Buck. When you can stand on your own… maybe we’ll have a chance.”

And then you turned and walked away, leaving him trembling in that coffee shop, the weight of everything he’d just realized crashing down on him.

She was the love of his life.

And for the first time, he understood what it meant to lose her.

6 months that followed were quiet, yet tumultuous in their own way. The distance you’d created between you and Buck — the space that felt like a chasm between two people who once shared everything — gave you the chance to breathe. You took time to heal, to rediscover parts of yourself that had been clouded by him, by your shared history. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

And for the first time, you felt whole.

Not because you had given up on Buck.

But because you had given up on the need for him to be your everything.

You spent late nights walking through the city with your dog, learning the rhythm of your own steps without looking for someone to follow. You spent mornings sipping coffee on your balcony, watching the world wake up, free from the weight of a relationship that had once felt like a lifeline but had become an anchor.

---

It was a rainy afternoon when you ran into him again. The moment felt almost too perfect — too planned by fate.

You were at a bookshop, the soft scent of paper and coffee surrounding you as you browsed the shelves. You didn’t expect him. You hadn’t expected to ever see him again in this way. The last time you’d parted, there were so many things left unsaid — and so much pain still between you.

And yet, there he was.

Buck was standing by the counter, speaking with the cashier. He turned when the bell above the door jingled, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. For a moment, you both stood there, frozen in time. Your heart didn’t race, though. It didn’t crash into your chest like it used to. Instead, there was this calm awareness of who you were and who he was — two people who had been through something, who had both changed.

His face softened, a tender smile curving his lips. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice warm but tinged with hesitation.

You nodded. “Hey, Buck.”

Neither of you said anything more at first. You both knew there was so much more behind that one word — the years together, the heartbreak, the distance, the space that had become something sacred in its own way. You both had been through the storm and come out on the other side, stronger and quieter.

Finally, Buck cleared his throat, his eyes not leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking about you… about us.” His voice was lower now, more intimate. “I know we’ve both needed time. But I can’t pretend I don’t miss you, (Y/N).”

You met his gaze without flinching, your own heart now a little more open. “I miss you, too.”

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the desperate, needy kind of missing you once felt. It was a quiet longing, a yearning for something that had always been just beneath the surface. You had both been searching for something more — but this time, it felt more grounded.

The tension hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions, but there was no rush. This time, it felt different.

“How have you been?” You asked, breaking the silence. It was an easy question, but it held a weight, a question that was more than just small talk.

“I’ve been… learning,” Buck said, his gaze soft and contemplative. “About myself. About what I need. And what I can give. It’s been hard. But I’ve had time to look at the bigger picture. And I see you now, (Y/N). I see you for who you are, not just who I thought you were.”

There it was. That truth. That clarity you’d both been searching for.

You smiled, something tender flickering inside you. “I see you too. Not the person I was angry with, but the person you’re becoming.” You stepped closer, the distance between you narrowing in a way that felt both natural and charged. “I think I’ve always seen you, Buck. But I had to let go of the idea that you could save me. That we could save each other.”

His breath hitched, and then he stepped forward, slowly, carefully. “I know I can’t save you, (Y/N). I just want to walk with you. If you’ll let me.”

His voice was soft, deep, filled with something raw, something vulnerable. And you felt it. His honesty. His understanding. His willingness to be there without needing to own you.

You didn’t say anything at first. The words were there, but the silence between you both felt like the perfect answer. You reached out and gently cupped his cheek. The contact was warm, familiar, but there was something new in it, too.

His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, he just leaned into your touch, breathing you in. His hand reached up to cover yours, and in that touch, you felt the weight of everything you had gone through together. The grief. The hurt. The lessons. And now, the softness, the space between you both.

“I’m tired of the games, Buck,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the outline of his jaw. “Tired of wondering. I need stability. I need to know you’re here, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Buck opened his eyes, his gaze deep and unguarded. “I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N). Not anymore. Not if you’ll have me.”

You leaned forward then, slowly, carefully. No rush. No urgency. Just two people, acknowledging what was between them. His lips met yours gently, softly at first, like a question, a plea. But as your mouths moved together, the kiss deepened, slow and sensual, filled with the weight of everything you had both been through. It wasn’t about passion in the way it used to be. It wasn’t about the desperate, fiery desire to fix something.

It was about connection. About trust. About the quiet certainty that this, right now, was exactly what you both needed.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, breathing him in like a memory you hadn’t realized you missed.

“You feel that?” he asked softly, his hand brushing through your hair.

You nodded. “I do.”

And for the first time in a long time, there was no need for words, no need to define what this was. The connection between you both was palpable, deep and steady, not the tempest it once had been, but a calm, understanding tide.

“I think we can do this,” Buck whispered, his voice filled with quiet hope. “We can do this the right way. Together.”

You nodded again, your heart in your chest now a steady, certain beat. “Together.”

And as you stood there, with him — no longer lost, no longer afraid — you finally understood what it meant to love without the need to control, to love without fear, and to love with a maturity that only time and heartache could teach.

The world outside was still, as if holding its breath, waiting for you to take the next step. And you did, hand in hand, knowing that whatever came next, you were no longer searching for someone to save you. You were saving each other — not with promises, but with the quiet, unspoken understanding that you had learned what it really meant to love.

1 year later

One year later, the rhythm of your life with Buck had settled into something familiar, something warm and real. The world had continued on, of course, but it felt like time had slowed down just for the two of you — allowing you to savor the moments that mattered most.

Your home had become a reflection of the two of you: cozy, lived-in, with traces of your individual personalities weaving seamlessly together. There was always music playing, a soft hum in the background of your shared life, and the steady warmth of the space felt like a constant embrace.

The mornings were quiet, spent in the kitchen with the smell of coffee brewing as you two shared the peacefulness of being together, without the rush, without the uncertainty. Buck would occasionally sneak up behind you as you were making breakfast, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his presence now as comforting as your own heartbeat.

---

One particular Saturday, you were in the kitchen again, your focus entirely on chopping vegetables for dinner. Buck, ever the natural observer, was on the couch nearby, scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing at you, his mind half on his device, half on the gentle rhythm of your movements.

You hummed a song, completely unaware of his gaze, completely lost in the simplicity of the task at hand. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and your hair was up in a messy bun, with strands escaping here and there. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how beautiful you looked in this quiet, everyday moment. The way your brow furrowed slightly as you concentrated. The way your hands moved so naturally, as if every action had its own grace.

He leaned back on the couch, completely still, his heart swelling in his chest.

How did he get so lucky?

He had seen you in so many different lights — in the moments of conflict, of pain, of healing — but now, here you were, just being you. You, in your element, making dinner with the same quiet confidence you brought to everything else. And, in that moment, Buck realized something he hadn’t fully acknowledged before: he didn’t need to fix you, or save you, or try to be something else to earn your love.

You had always been whole.

He had just needed to learn how to love you — the right way.

A deep, contented sigh escaped his lips as he finally stood up from the couch. Quietly, so as not to disturb your focus, he walked over to you. The distance between you both felt smaller than it had ever been before. He gently placed his hands on your waist, pulling you back slightly so you were pressed against him. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of your breaths.

For a few moments, the two of you simply stood there, wrapped in the ease of one another's presence.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin of your neck. The words were soft, full of meaning.

You chuckled lightly, “I’m just chopping veggies, Buck.”

He smiled, closing his eyes as he held you a little tighter. “No, you’re beautiful because of moments like this. It’s not the big things, you know? It’s the little things.”

You turned your head slightly, enough to meet his gaze. There was something in his eyes that made your heart flutter — that deep, unspoken affection, that certainty in his love for you. The past was behind you, both of you having learned the hard way what it meant to love, to truly love.

The space between you both was filled with a quiet, warm kind of intimacy. The kind of love that had weathered storms, but had also grown — grown into something stable, something secure.

You smiled, leaning your head against his, your hands still working on the vegetables, even as you felt his presence filling you.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words as easy to say now as they had been difficult before.

He kissed the side of your neck gently, his voice rough but filled with sincerity. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

A silence stretched between you, but it was peaceful. Comfortable. The kind of silence that came from two people who had finally found the right rhythm with each other.

Buck pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his hand brushing some stray hairs from your face. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He just admired you. The woman you had become. The woman who had taught him that love wasn’t about perfection, but about finding someone who makes life feel more like home.

And in that moment, Buck realized something deep in his chest: He was proud of himself — proud of the man he had become, proud of the life he had built with you. He had fought for this, fought for your trust, fought for the kind of love that wasn’t fleeting, that wasn’t built on a foundation of uncertainty.

No, this was real. And he had done something right.

His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin in slow, deliberate motions.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You furrowed your brow slightly, puzzled. “For what?”

“For giving me a chance to do this the right way. For not giving up on me. For believing in us.”

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile. "We did this together, Buck."

And in that moment, you both knew — without a single word more — that this was the love that was meant to last. Not because it was easy, but because you both had chosen each other, time and time again.

No more roller coasters, no more waiting for the next storm to hit. Just a steady, unshakable love. A love that had found its footing, a love that had grown into something mature, something grounded.

And for the first time, as you leaned into him, allowing yourself to be held in his arms, you both felt the deep satisfaction that comes with knowing you had created something real, something lasting. You weren’t perfect, and neither was he, but together, you were exactly what you both needed.

And Buck — for the first time in his life — felt like he had truly done good.

Let me know what you think🩵 did you like this series/part?

#911 abc #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 imagine #911 x reader #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck buckley #911 x you #911 fox #911 show

127 notes · View notes

burnthatbridge · 1 year ago

Text

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know)

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious. “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all.

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed.

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled.

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress.

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul.

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it.

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t.

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission.

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else.

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to.

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him.

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie.

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.”

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it.

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them.

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.”

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

#do we need to see where this goes next?#or is it good as is?#these are the questions that haunt me #(also i am totally avoiding writing chapter 5 of my wip please don't kill me)#buddie #bucktommy #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911 abc #myfic

939 notes · View notes

moonlightandromache · 1 month ago

Text

okay jumping on the buddieravi trapped under rubble together bandwagon. consider this, there’s no big love confession, but eddie hasn’t moved back to la yet, the earthquake happens not long after the funeral and hes still there and its an all hands on deck sort of situation, and thus buddieravi ends up trapped, they’re sitting there under the rubble and eddie confesses ‘if we survive this, chris and I are moving home’ and buck whips his head around to stare at Eddie with wide eyes and it’s quite for a moment, and ravi to break the awkwardness and also mistaking buck’s bewilderment as panic says ‘well, buck if you need a place to stay Ihave a pretty decent guest room’ and before buck can even turn to look at ravi eddie’s like ‘don’t be ridiculous, i’m not kicking buck out, we can share’ and buck, still staring bewildered at eddie goes ‘ha ha yeah of course’ and ravi decides to just drop it because he’s so tired of being stuck in Their Bullshit.

(unfortunately for ravi, this is Not the last of this particular bullshit)

cut to the night of eddie and chris moving home, they spent most of the afternoon into the evening unpacking the uhaul, chris has gone to bed and buck and eddie are sitting on the couch together sharing a beer, both utterly exhausted but neither wanting to break from their peaceful little bubble, until eddie yawns big and loud and buck goes ‘you should take the bed tonight—you’ve been driving all day and your back doesn’t need to be more fucked up than it already is’ and eddie looks at him like hes grown two heads and goes ‘don’t be silly, we’ll share the bed. it’s not like we haven’t done it before’ and buck obviously can’t say ‘well that was before i realized i was bisexual. and also maybe am in love with you’ so instead he goes ‘haha, yeah, of course’ and when they get in bed buck ends up lying so stiff that eddie rolls his eyes (which buck doesn’t see because he’s pointedly staring at the ceiling) and goes ‘buck, hey, relax. it’s just me—it’s not like i don’t know about how you snore like a grandpa’ which does get buck to relax a little because he turns to glare at eddie insisting ‘i don’t snore like a grandpa’ and eddie gives him a toothy smile, reaches out to pat him on the cheek (which buck totally doesn’t tense up again because of) and says ‘sure bud, just get some sleep, i’m not gonna kick you out of bed in the middle of the night’ and then rolls over and goes to sleep. the next night when they are once again sitting on the couch together nursing beers, eddie stands up, smacking his thighs and declares that it’s time for bed and before buck can even suggest any kind of sleeping arrangement eddie holds out his hand for buck to use to haul himself off the couch with a ‘c’mon bud’ and eddie, instead of letting go once buck’s on his feet, turns and tugs buck along with him to the bedroom, leaving no room for buck to protest as he declares he’s taking the bathroom first and buck can just get changed in the bedroom while he waits.

cue a montage of the next couple of nights where buck, trying to be normal about it, ends up getting some of the worst sleep of his life because he forces himself to stay awake as long as possible to make sure eddie’s actually fallen asleep and then subsequently makes sure he wakes up in the morning before eddie, nights spent at the firehouse are actually a reprieve for him, at least the ones where they can actually lie down in the bunk room for a little while. which works for a little while until they end up having a particularly grueling shift with back to back calls allowing for little to no rest, buck finds ravi after their shift is done while eddie is still in the showers washing off sewer (he drew the short straw) and asks if he could crash in his guest room that night. ravi raises his eyebrows and responds with a teasing smirk ‘what did eddie finally kick you out?’ and buck, slightly offended on eddies behalf replies ‘no of course not’ to which ravi’s eyebrows manage to raise slightly higher and buck, slightly panicking blurts ‘eddie and chris are having a father-son bonding night and i don’t want to intrude’ and ravi just kinda stares at him for a moment and buck hastily adds on ‘i’ll make dinner?’ and ravi, not one to argue with the offer of free food shrugs and says ‘sure’ and they agree that buck will come by around 6 and its set.

except eddie and chris don’t have any kind of father-son bonding night planned, and buck has to come up with an excuse for why he’s heading out for the evening and, again panicking slightly, tells eddie that he had a date. to which eddie raises his eyebrows and goes ‘you’re dating again?’ and buck, already set in the lie, responds ‘just, uh, just casually. i’m not—not looking for anything serious right now, just trying to, y’know, get back on that horse?’ and eddie is quiet for a moment just looking at buck and then says ‘right, sure.’ and buck turns to leave but pauses again, ‘uh, don’t wait up? i don’t know how late i’ll be’ and eddie, voice going slightly funny replies ‘right, uh, i guess—have fun?’ and buck nods, pleased with himself for his on the spot improvisational skills, and heads out the front door.

the night spent at ravi’s rejuvenates buck and he is able to fall back into the routine he crafted for himself to be able to share the bed with eddie for about another week until the lack of sleep catches up with him again and he finds himself reaching out to ravi again, this time claiming ‘chris is having a sleepover and it’d be kinda hard to crash on the couch when theres a whole bunch of teenagers camped out in the living room determined to stay awake as long as possible’ and offers to bring ravi some of his latest batch of baked goods and ravi once again is like. sure man. because who turns down buck’s blueberry surprise muffins? and anyway everything is once again set. except for the fact that there isn’t any actual sleepover happening at the diaz house that night, so buck once again makes up a date, and once again tells eddie ‘not to wait up’ and eddie doesn’t ask how the date went the next morning when he wakes up to buck making breakfast.

and it continues on like that for a few weeks, buck making up some kind of reason he needs to be out of the diaz house for a night to ravi and then telling eddie he’s got another date and not to wait up and buck foolishly thinks he’s hacked the system.

until the fifth time it happens, buck comes home from ravi’s place to find eddie already awake, sitting on the couch, waiting for him. eddie doesn’t meet buck’s eyes when he says ‘this is your fifth date this month’ and buck, confused replies ‘uh, yeah, guess so’ ‘same person? seems like it could be getting a little bit serious’ and buck rubs at the back of his neck ‘oh, no, uh, different—different people’ and eddie, still not looking at buck goes ‘really? i mean—you haven’t felt a spark with any of them?’ and buck chuckles nervously, entirely unprepared for this conversation and replies ‘uh, no, guess not’ and eddie finally, finally looks at buck and goes ‘why are you lying to me?’ he holds up his own phone like a piece of evidence ‘we have location sharing on, remember? i know you’ve been going to ravi’s’ and buck, deer in the headlights, completely panics and blurts out ‘i’m sleeping with him’ and eddie, looking suddenly very confused, eyes squinting slightly says ‘what?’ and buck, already climbing into the hole he’s dug for himself goes, ‘we’re having sex. me and ravi' and eddie is once again staring at him like he's grown a second head and buck decides to make a stealthy retreat (read: goes to the kitchen and makes a bit of an extravagant breakfast) and then chris is awake and the conversation doesn’t get brought back up.

except, they have a shift that same day, and while buck initially is grateful for this, about 4 hours into their 24, ravi comes up to buck while he’s doing inventory in the supply closet and goes ‘hey, uh, did—did i do something to make eddie mad at me? because i feel like he’s mad at me.’ and buck replies ‘what? no. eddie isn’t mad at you’ and ravi goes ‘are you sure? because he’s been acting…a little weird? but like, specifically to me?’ and buck is like ‘pshh, what? no he isnt. hes just being—regular eddie.’ and then in comedic timing eddie appears, does a slight double take at buck and ravi standing together in the supply closet, makes a weird face ‘sorry, didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt anything.’ and he says it like the words are sour in his mouth, still looking between buck and ravi, and then he seemingly remembers why he came looking for them in the first place and says ‘food’s ready’ and then promptly spins on his heel and leaves before buck or ravi can say anything.

and ravi just, fixes buck with a Look and buck goes all sheepish and says ‘uh, so maybe eddie’s acting a little weird.’

#buddieravi #911 spec #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ravi panikkar #buddie #abby writes #<- very loosely categorizing this as my writing bc this is truly just a massive word dump with zero structure to it #1.6k words. godbless 🙏#i kinda wanna add more to this but also i need to sleep for work and i want to release this into the wild #be free my sweet 🫶#mine

131 notes · View notes

epicbuddieficrecs · 3 months ago

Text

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | February 17th-23rd 2025

I got braces put in last week - for the second time in my life mind you! - so it's been a pretty miserable week for me 🙃 so I started a 9-1-1 rewatch to cheer me up 😄 (and because I'm in 9-1-1 withdrawal, only 10 days to go!!!!)

I also want to rec a 9-1-1 rewatch podcast I've been listening to, Tales From the 118! They don't have a tumblr so I'll just link to their first episode. I've really been enjoying it!

Complete

love bite by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Werewolf Eddie, Established Buddie | 1,8K | Mature):

“It’s okay, Eddie.” Buck soothes, “This is okay. You’re allowed to give into these instincts. There’s nothing wrong with it. You can bite me all over if you want.”

just hold on until the sun comes up tomorrow by thelikesofus/ @thelikesofus (Post-S4E14: Survivors | 2K | Teen):

“Buck,” Eddie says Buck’s name like a promise, like a prayer. “You're having nightmares and I'm not sleeping. If we're both going to be awake all night we might as well be awake together.” OR Why should either of them have to face the darkness alone when they have each other?

Love Language by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

When Eddie reluctantly reveals he can speak Swedish, Buck ends up learning a lot more about him than he bargained for.

i wanna feel you from the inside by shortndiaz (Vampire Buck, PWP, S3 | 4K | Explicit):

Starts with ‘wanna go for the title?’ and ends in some blood and sex

Eddie 2.0 by bellabrady (Eddie Moves to Texas | 5K | Not Rated):

Or: After Eddie moves to Texas, Buck adopts a stray cat and names it Eddie.

🔥 The Great Valentine's Day Debacle of 2025 by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Valentine's Day, Getting Together | 5K | General):

Eddie books a couples Valentine’s Day weekend for him and Buck. Except they’re not together. Eddie is an idiot.

tell me that you'll never let me go by farfromthstars/ @farfromthstars (Eddie Goes To Texas, Getting Together | 5K | Teen):

From the apartment, he calls Buck, who picks up after two rings. “Hey, did you make it okay?” Eddie leans back against the pillows on his bed and closes his eyes, wishing he was at home on his couch with Buck next to him. Or that Buck was here with him, at least. “Yeah, just got back from my parents’, actually.” “How’d it go?” Buck asks. His voice is warm, even through the phone. “Did Chris talk to you?” “A little bit,” Eddie says, and allows himself a smile. “Buck, he– he hugged me and told me he missed me. Of course, then he remembered that he was mad at me, but for a minute–” “That’s– that’s awesome, Eddie,” Buck says. “Hey, uh, I gotta run, but keep me posted, okay?” “Sure,” Eddie says, confused at being cut off so quickly. “What are you d–” But Buck has hung up already. ~ Eddie goes to Texas. Buck is being weird. It only takes them both five days to crack.

this life that we make by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 5K | Teen):

Eddie stares at his bottle of beer and grits his teeth. He has to go, he knows it’s the right thing. He’s going to go. Why does he want Buck to ask him to stay so badly? “Why did you never ask me to stay?” Buck makes a sound, a mix of a hiss and a hiccup, and when Eddie turns to look at him, he suddenly looks as if he’s in pain. “Eddie, I–,” Buck rubs his hands on his thighs. “Did you want me to?” “I want you to be honest with me,” Eddie says. “And I guess I hope you’re not actually this…unbothered by my leaving.”

🔥TRUST! by pairofraggedclaws (PWP, Quarantine | 8K | Explicit):

“I get used to it, I guess. Kind of. After a while,” Eddie says. Then, very quietly, “I’m just, uh, sensitive.” “Oh,” Buck says. Eddie's just sensitive. Eddie, his best friend, who he has now seen when he comes. Who comes in under a minute if he isn’t getting some on the regs. This is – this is – interesting. * Love and premature ejaculation.

Good Job! by pretty_boy_buckley (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 8K | Mature):

Buck begins giving Eddie little star stickers to encourage him, Eddie really loves them

I don't wanna miss you like this by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Eddie Moves To Texas, Love Letters | 9K | Teen):

Once he was home—or, as Chris puts it, back in his stupid, shitty apartment, he sat down, poured himself a drink—then another, once he downed the first—took out his laptop, and started to type. It was surprisingly easy, once the alcohol hit his bloodstream, to write it out. To put himself in the mindset of someone who loved Buck and couldn’t keep it inside anymore. Eddie Diaz was living in El Paso—miles away from his best friend who needed him, struggling to cross the invisible distance his son was keeping from him. There was no quick fix for either—but he was working on it. And in the meantime, he could do something to help Buck feel better from afar.

I lose my feet in my father's shoes by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8A, Chris Coming Home | 12K | Teen):

Just as Eddie is planning to move to El Paso, Chris gets into a fight at school, and Helena and Ramon decide they've had enough, sending Chris home.

The Pieces of You (I Carry With Me) by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 12K | Teen):

Eddie makes Buck a baby box and chickens out of giving it to him, leaving it in his closet for years and trying his hardest to forget about it, and what it might mean. Until Buck is helping Eddie pack for his move to El Paso and happens to find it.

disappearing into the distance by bucksclipboard/ @endofthedaymp3 (Eddie Comes Back From Texas, Getting Together | 16K | Teen):

Eddie wasn’t sure why he and Maddie weren’t close. It was strange, considering her little brother was the most important person in his life. Still, when the door opened, tight hugs were exchanged and cheerful welcome homes rang in his ears. “Does Bobby know? I gotta call Bobby!”, Chimney yelled. “Could you wait a minute?”, Eddie interjected. His eyes darted between them for a moment and landed on Chim, deciding he was his best bet. “Maybe first explain to me why I went to see Buck and his loft was empty. Am I missing something? Did he move?” or: eddie comes back from texas – only to find that buck has left los angeles

WIP

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 16/? | 96K | Explicit):

In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 13? | 58K | Teen):

Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

Podfic

🔥 [Podfic] Paralytic Narcolepsy Guy Hates Buckley & Diaz by oRóisín (oKathleen) // fic by eightpackdiaz (Outsider POV, Canon, Getting Together | 30-45min | Teen):

Paralytic Narcolepsy Guy is forced to listen to Buckley and Diaz talk to and about each other in his unconscious presence over the years. He insists he fucking hates them. But then he also accidentally helps them get engaged.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec

139 notes · View notes

1thesewordsaremyown1 · 6 days ago

Text

This idea has spawned in my head for a "Buck transfers out of the 118" fic, and after setting out an outline of where I want this story to go, I realised this is going to be a loooong one. Like, at least 10k long (especially as the first chapter is already hovering around the 1.5k mark). It's been a while since I've written a multi chapter fic, so I want to get more written down before I start posting chapters, but I figure I'd post a little snippet of the start for anyone who might be interested. So read below for the start of my hiatus project.

It was 11 days later that he got the call.

Well, 11 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes if Buck was going to be pedantic about it, but he wasn’t. He just happened to remember the exact minute that he sent through the request, and while he may not have superpowered math skills anymore, it wasn’t hard to figure out the timeline between sent and response. So, 11 days after he had put in the transfer request, he received a call from the Fire Chief.

“Fire-fighter Buckley, this is Chief Simpson,” came the brisk voice over the line after Buck had picked up his phone.

“Chief,” Buck sputtered in shock. It shouldn’t be a shock – he had put in the request, he had never rescinded it, so of course the higher ups were going to get back to him at some point. But somehow, it was still unexpected. Although he had been busy the last few days, so it wasn’t surprising that the transfer request had slipped his mind. But of all the days that the Chief had to call, it had to be today – the most hectic of them all. Buck stepped aside as a pair of movers walked by, carrying Buck’s couch in between them, the pair of them laughing and joking loudly amongst themselves.

“Can you hold on for just a second?” Buck spoke into the receiver. He quickly headed to the back door and stepped out into his back yard for some privacy, closing the door behind him to muffle the noises coming from inside. Well, it wasn’t technically his back yard anymore – the house was going back to Eddie when he came back from Texas in a few days’ time. In fact, he had gone back to sleeping on Maddie’s couch the last two nights as everything had been packed back up, waiting for the movers to arrive today to put it all into storage. “Sorry about that Chief, it’s a bit chaotic around here at the moment. How can I help you?”

“I have your transfer papers here Buckley,” the Chief continued. “And we have found a place for you. A member of the 217 has been on medical leave and has decided to retire, so there is a spot that has become available.”

Buck’s mind blue screened. “The – the 217 sir?”

“That’s correct.”

Buck couldn’t believe his ears. Of all the fire houses in LA, it seemed the only one that held an available spot was the one where his ex-boyfriend was stationed. The ex-boyfriend he hadn’t seen or spoken to since Bobby’s memorial service weeks ago. Great.

#yes that's right the 217 #I know others have started Buck transfers fics but I haven't seen any where he goes to the 217 #most I've seen are usually the 122 because people want to see Sal #but this idea wormed its way into my head and won't leave #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #my wips #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911

106 notes · View notes

becausebuckley · 8 months ago

Text

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 42!

another lovely reading week! i really need to sort through my marked for later list though, it just keeps growing... a task for next week, perhaps?

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! note that unlike in previous weeks, this list contains some fics that are set during season 8, so be careful if you don't want spoilers!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

drench yourself in words unspoken | foxwatson/@eddiediazes | 26.2k | T

the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. Yet. romance writer eddie is brilliant, the vision!! and this is so well-written <3

lazy sunday (lay with me) | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 1.3k | G

Buck wakes up to sleepy morning couch cuddles with his second favorite Diaz boy AKA Eddie is clingy in the morning. clingy eddie is so special to me <3 this captures that soft moning atmosphere perfectly!

line | the_one_that_fell/@buckvalentina | 4.4k | E

Eddie and Buck cross a line in an El Paso motel. okay but this fic. THIS FIC. they absolutely would do the in person phone sex no touching thing. it's so them i'm obsessed

please, i've been on my knees | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 11.6k | E

Buck discovers he has a kink. this is the most recent addition to the list, i only read it this morning! and wow what a way to wake up... a good day to be me. it's sweet and funny and hot and i loved research!buck <3

pumpkin spice and everything nice | PretentiousSwanQueen/@hotcinnamonsunset | 4k | M

Buck tries to get Eddie to accept one pumpkin spiced flavored something in his life and eventually finds success (in love and edibles). no but this fic is so right buck would love pumpkin spice and eddie wouldn't!! such a fun read!

songs and poems and promises | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 4.9k | E

“Stubble’s kinda crazy,” Buck says, “And it actually kinda drives me crazy. I didn’t think I’d be into that, you know? But it’s cool. Like, he’s a man, you know?” [...] “It’s just like, you know, even though it doesn’t feel as good, there are still all these new things that I didn’t expect I’d like so much.” in just a few lines this captures the firefam dynamics so well!! and the buddie is also brilliant of course. i had a great time with this one <3

stop waking me up in the middle of the night | reincrimination/@reincrimination | 2.3k | G

“Do you not like sleeping with me, Diaz?” Buck hazards, taking a swig of his nearly-empty bottle. [...] “If you would stop waking me up in the middle of the night, I might like it more,” Eddie sighs, half-genuine in his annoyance. “Buck kicks like a racehorse.” pandemic era buddie bed sharing fics hit so hard <3 this is lovely!!

sweetheart (you look a little tired) | EiraLloyd | 14.6k | T

five times Buck tried to cheer up Eddie with baked goods, and one time Eddie tried to cheer up Buck with baked goods. i love baking and i love buddie so basically this is perfect for me <3 had a lovely time reading through this earlier this week!!

the kiss that lingers | greenbergsays/@greenbergsays | 10.7k | E

5 times Eddie kisses Buck's birthmark & 1 time he doesn't. birthmark kisses my absolute beloved <3 soft and sweet and so them!!

too often the power of touch is underestimated | xjustlikeyou/@xjustlikeyou | 15.3k | T

Five times a touch knocked Eddie off his feet, and the one time he got to return the favor. buddie and eddiekaren bestieism what else could i possibly want <3 so good!!

the sincerest form of flattery | canadadry | 1.7k | NR

in which Brad Torrence only almost passes out, and observes the aftermath. brad torrence is the gift that keeps on giving <3 i loved his inner dialogue here!!

touching me, touching you | rainbow_nerds/@rainbow-nerdss | 7.1k | E

Buck and Eddie wake up one morning able to feel each other's touch. They make the most of it. i love the premise of this fic so so much, it's so cool?? and executed so well <3

what's your love language? | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 18.3k | E

After finding out that Eddie doesn't know what his love language is, Buck sets about finding out for him. He begins a five week experiment, one for each love language, to figure out which will make Eddie feel the most loved. this fic makes me go !!!! inside. i love the way buck goes all out to make eddie feel loved while also thinking it's the most normal thing in the world. and that ending!

you bring me comfort | thewolvesof1998/@thewolvesof1998 | 4.2k | T

Eddie is touched starved and just needs a hug instead, instead he has his sweater. i've read this so many times by now, it's an absolute favourite!! i'm a big fan of giving eddie comfort in whatever way he wants or needs <3

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list #yes there is a trend in most of these fics #no we will not be talking about it lmao #listen i get my reading material half from subscription material/recs on discord #and half from whichever hyperspecific searches i'm entering on ao3 #this is how it goes #also let me know if you prefer the list like this or a separate one for spoilery fics!#i'm open to any and all feedback

210 notes · View notes

rainbow-nerdss · 2 months ago

Text

8x14 coda

It was a good morning.

Eddie let himself sleep in—there had been a concert the night before, and he’d picked up a couple of late night fares. Chris was still in bed when he woke up, but he was there, in Eddie's house, right there on the other side of the bedroom door. He felt refreshed, at peace with himself and the world around him.

It wasn't perfect, of course. Chris helped a lot, but no matter how much work he put in, the house still didn't quite feel like home. He knew what was missing. It was glaringly obvious.

Chris may have been the most important person in his life but he wasn’t Eddie's only family, and the absence of Buck and the rest of the 118 only felt more pronounced now Chris was back, and the gaping wound of his absence was beginning to heal. Like at the site of any incident, the most painful injuries always make themselves known only after the emergency is over.

His vitals were stable, the life-or-death fight had been won, and he suddenly found himself without the use of his left arm.

He started breakfast, figuring the smell of bacon would be as good as any alarm clock to wake Christopher, and tapping Buck's contact as a matter of routine.

There was no answer, and Eddie pushed aside his disappointment. It was later than they usually called. Buck was on shift already, might even be out on a call.

Eddie sent him a text instead, replying to the good morning message that had been waiting in their chat when he woke up.

Chris sat at the table, inhaling his bacon and eggs as though he hasn't eaten in a week.

“What's on the agenda today?” he asked between bites.

“Chris, swallow, please,” Eddie laughed, pretending to wipe away a spit fleck from his face. “I thought I'd tackle the front yard?”

“Gardening? So you need my help, then.”

“I wouldn't say no,” Eddie admitted. “But only if you're done with your weekend homework.”

Chris dropped his head on the table with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Fine. I have to finish that English assignment, but I'm all yours after!”

Eddie checked his phone, then tucked it away. “Great! Abuela was telling me about a nursery she likes the other day—how about I pull some weeds while you finish your assignment, then we can drive out together and pick out some plants?”

“Deal.” Chris shoved the last bit of bacon in his mouth and reached for his crutches. Eddie let him get halfway to his room before calling after him.

“Hey, have you heard from Buck today?”

“Not yet!” Chris’s bedroom door closed behind him, leaving Eddie on his own.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

He waited an hour, weeded a decent patch of the yard, then tried calling again.

No answer.

He sent another text, then switched tactics, texting Chim to ask how their gender “reveal” had gone.

For good measure, he also texted Hen a picture of the patch he'd been working on with a complaint that she'd stolen Buck’s free labor from him.

He worked for twenty more minutes, then checked his phone again.

No answers. From anyone.

Something was wrong.

Eddie made his way inside.

“Hey, ready to go?” Chris asked from his spot on the couch. “Finished my assignment—you can check it if you want.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. He just sat next to him, turning on the TV and switching channels until he found somewhere showing the news. It was a local channel, and Eddie grunted in frustration.

“What's wrong?” Chris asked, picking up on his mood.

“I don't know,” Eddie managed to say through gritted teeth as he searched for something, anything that would tell him what was happening in LA right now. Finally, he remembered Google.

It didn't take long to find the breaking news story about the lab explosion, the quarantine, the virus. And there, beside the army tents and the news vans was a ladder truck, the familiar red with 118 emblazoned on it. Eddie's hands shook as he read the story, clicked the video, and heard the words firefighters trapped inside alongside potentially deadly contagion.

He felt completely useless, hundreds of miles away while his family was at risk. Chris leaned into his side. “Are they—”

The reporter interrupted. “We have received word that there are at least two firefighters in critical condition, with no sign of any relief incoming. Doctor, what can you tell us about the virus?”

The camera cut away to a woman in a lab, who started explaining something, but Eddie didn't hear a word.

He closed the news site and started texting everyone he could think of—Buck, Bobby, Hen, Chim, Ravi, Athena, Maddie, Karen, even Tommy, though he hated himself even as he sent it. Karen replied right away, though she didn't know much more than he did. Finally, Maddie was able to give him some information, and his heart broke as he read it.

Chris comes back into the room, though Eddie hadn't even registered him leaving.

“Buck's okay. He got out, no sign of infection, he's working on getting them out, but…”

“The others?” Chris guessed.

“Hen,” Eddie confirms. “And Chim, they… he's infected, and she's… Bobby had to…”

They were down a medic, he remembered. If he had been there, he could have helped them, not made Bobby do the surgery. Sure, it had gone okay but with these things, even the tiniest error could…

Eddie’s breathing was coming short and fast, until Chris put a hand on his shoulder. “Dad. Breathe, Dad. You can't drive if you're panicking.”

“Drive?” He asked. It was then he noticed the bag in Christopher’s hand.

“I know we have to come back. You bought the house, and I have school and… but I want to go back. I… please, dad? Can we go home?”

Eddie's phone pinged, the name he’d been longing to see all day flashing on the screen.

Buck: I'm safe, but it's. It’s bad, eddie.

Buck: Chim is

Buck: and Hen

Buck: fuck

Buck: so glad you're safe in Texas rn. I couldn't

Buck: sorry

Eddie felt the tears begin to pour down his face. “Don't forget to pack your meds,” he said. “And snacks—we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

#911 spoilers #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

133 notes · View notes