#buck service dog fic

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Completed Fic: the best endeavor waiting

One more today!

Here's the sequel to my Service Dog User Buck fic - treat an opportunity like it's treating you

Summary:

When quarantine puts the 118 on the front lines of the pandemic, Eddie asks Buck and his service dog, Cranberry, to stay with Christopher.

Snippet:

“Buck, I need us to switch.” 

“Switch?” Buck echoes. 

“I need…” Eddie sighs. “Would you switch with me? Stay with Chris? And I’d stay at your place.” 

Buck is silent for a second. Floored. In all his internal griping about working from home and having to entertain his dog, how did he not consider what Eddie must be worrying about?

“I’m sorry,” Eddie adds when Buck doesn’t reply quickly. “I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s not your… You’re not his… But, Buck, I can’t get him sick. I can’t get him sick, and you’re the person I trust most to take care of him.” 

“Of course I will,” Buck blurts. “Sorry, I was just surprised. Yes, Eddie. Of course, whatever you need. Are you… You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie replies. “I… I think if it was anyone else I wouldn’t be sure.”

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @goldenbcnes

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buckleybabyblues

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8 @theautumnbard @lightningmcqueer8

@kultiras

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added to my writing updates tags :)

[loveyouanyway]

sentences sunday monday

started a new wip >:) the idea of it is buck's nonverbal and then he and eddie become best friends and buck says eddie's name for the first time and eddie cries tears of joy 🥹 bobby also adopted buck when he was young bc the trashleys didn't want a kid who didn't talk

Eddie walks into the library, glancing around for Christopher’s favourite librarian, Bobby.

He spots him by the computers, sitting next to a young man with dark blond hair full of loose curls.

Eddie walks over, reading the list of books Chris told him he wants— no, according to his son, it's a need.

“Hi Eddie,” Bobby greets without being able to see him. He’s got this weird sixth sense and can notice if someone’s behind him. It freaks the hell out of Eddie but he tries to act cool. Key word: tries.

The older man turns around and notices Eddie’s alone. “Chris at another sleepover?”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Bobby hums. “It’s always rough when your kid realizes he doesn’t have to be with his dad all the time,” he says as if he can relate.

Eddie didn’t think Bobby had any kids but it seems like he was wrong.

tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus 🥰 tagging you back for today or tuesday if you have something to share!

no pressure tags: @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @smilingbuckley @wikiangela @theotherbuckley @bucksbackwardcap @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kaseysgirl86-blog @judehendr1ks and anyone who wants to share <3

let me know if you wanna be added or removed for my taglist!

[buddierecs]

aly's recent reads - pt. 1

hi, i have been reading some amazing buddie fics recently so i wanted to make a list of them all for you guys! i will probably start doing this whenever i feel the need too :) these fics are mixed rated, so please check the ratings and tags!

loves a game, wanna play? by: 42hrb "in the aftermath of chris leaving for the summer, buck convinces eddie they should apply for love island together." word count: 57k rating: mature important tags: reality tv au - love island, humour, flirting, idiots in love, getting together, season 7, pining, social media time makes you bolder (children get older) by: sevensoulmates there’s a new resident moving into the suite across from buck’s. “what’s his name?” buck asks. “eddie diaz,” nurse corra tells him. “hey, you know eddie is also a retired firefighter." eddie diaz, new recruit, a voice echoes in his mind. “huh.” buck says. "never heard of him." word count: 26k rating: not rated important tags: future fic, old age, memory loss, this will make you cry!!

i think if you're lucky by: colonoscopys "evan hits him with his car" word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: royalty au, different first meeting au, firefighter!eddie all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: not yet too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: texting, season 7, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz's mustache in love with every song you've ever heard by: timeshareindestin "how a conversation about tardigrades results in buck grappling with a disability he's suppressed, getting hearing aids, and realizing that the family he craves has been there for him all along. in that order." word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: character study, disability, getting together, coming out, hurt/comfort, angst, hard of hearing!buck loose-tongued, in love by: wenttoafortuneteller "the one where buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to eddie without realizing it." word count: 4.4k rating: teen and up important tags: love confessions, miscommunication, fluff, angst, getting together drift past the flowers by: dylanesthetics "buck and natalia get engaged, and eddie flees the state about it. a petty email correspondence ensues." word count: 45k rating: teen and up important tags: email correspondence, friends to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, minor buck/natalia paralyric narcolepsy guy hates buckley & diaz by: eightpackdiaz "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" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: outsider pov, narcolepsy, idiots in love, getting together perfect to me by: fallingthorns "eddie has bad posture, buck is a mouth-breather, and the rest of the 118 all have a thing, too" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: team as family, bickering, humour keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia." word count: 23k rating: mature important tags: vacation, fake dating, gay disaster!eddie diaz, mutual pining treat an opportunity like it's treating you by: daisies_and_briars "after losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him." word count: 12k rating: teen and up important tags: service dog, amputee!buck, hurt/comfort, angst, pre-relationship jeep talking by: daisies_and_briars "a ride in the backseat of buck's jeep with buck and eddie in the front gives chim new perspective on his brother-in-law's strange dynamic with his so-called "best friend.' and chim is sick of them being so oblivious." word count: 2.2k rating: teen and up important tags: chim pov, humour

an inch away from more than just friends by: allyasavedtheday in which buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of eddie diaz. word count: 9.6k rating: teen and up important tags: fluff, falling in love, romance, feelings realization brojobs are normal, maddie! by: mihaly "buck and eddie are the most oblivious idiots on the planet and literally everyone knows they're in love but them." word count: 43k rating: explicit important tags: idiots to lovers, oblivious!buddie, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, size kink, daddy kink, phone sex, oral sex, anal sex save a horse, ride a mustache by: bisexualbuckley "eddie gets a mustache. buck goes insane. there's some miscommunication. mustache smut ensues" word count: 7.1k rating: explicit important tags: horny!evan buckley, misunderstandings, oral sex, face-sitting, praise kink, anal sex, come eating, top!eddie diaz, bottom!evan buckley, riding

[olderthannetfic]

What are the current big m/m ships that the whole fandom flocks to, aside from the classics like destiel etc.? I have been hanging out mostly in f/f spaces for some time now and I kind fell out of touch with the m/m side of the fandom. Last I've checked there was the pirate show, but what about now? Are there any new juggernauts?

--

The newest hot ships aren't usually the massive, massive juggernauts. Those tend to be ones that have been around for a bit.

For my money, the most recent fandom-that-ate-fandom was The Untamed and the most recent juggernaut Wangxian

The way I usually get a read on what's up, at least for fanworks, is to go to the m/m tag on ao3 and then filter by date, exclude some things, etc. to see the top 10 or 20 or however many.

M/M sidebar right now:

Castiel/Dean Winchester (110014)

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski (69463)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (68358)

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (67024)

James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (60706)

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (54149)

Minor or Background Relationship(s) (52143)

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (45769)

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (44367)

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku (42793)f

Excluding those:

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson (42475)

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (38426)

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V (37563)

Keith/Lance (Voltron) (32379)

Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester (31256)

Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) (30502)

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) (30237)

Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (29824)

Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter (29752)

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin (28995)

--

Filtered for the past year:

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (16009)

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (12242)

Minor or Background Relationship(s) (11413)

Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) (9871)

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (8483)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (8335)

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku (8109)

Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru (7878)

Regulus Black/James Potter (7768)

Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) (7407)

Excluding those:

Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (7267)

Original Male Character/Original Male Character (7110)

Castiel/Dean Winchester (6331)

Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet (6178)

Alhaitham/Kaveh (Genshin Impact) (6057)

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (5765)

John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley (5517)

Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know (5477)

Neuvillette/Wriothesley (Genshin Impact) (4966)

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V (4571)

So the most boring BTS ship is still going strong, I see.

Generally, AO3 is ever more anime- and kpop-heavy in recent years. A lot of the action is in fandoms outside of ye olde US live action SF shows. I guess 9-1-1 being an emergency services show is kind of in the ballpark of ye olde buddy cop shows, and Stranger Things has been active, but a lot of what's going on is for canonically queer ships, video games, Asian media, etc.

The kinds of fandoms AO3 was built on aren't where the action is at the moment for the most part. (Well, aside from HP.) Though, of course, there are bajillions of mid-size fic fandoms at all times.

[thewolvesof1998]

Inspiration Saturday/Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the wonderfully talented @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @hippolotamus @wikiangela @jamespearce9-1-1 @smilingbuckley @theotherbuckley

Okay so if you've missed it I am obsessed with the headcanon of Buck wearing Eddie's dog tags (thanks to Amanda's fic i’ll bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days too which if you haven't read yet go do so it's amazing) here is my previous rants about it. Anyway it inspired a new WIP they don’t know (your name is already mine) aka Dog Tags Fic/Mistaken Identity/Christmas Fic. Here's a little mood board and seven sentences:

“I swear I just had it,” Buck frantically pats his pockets for what he already knows is not there but he hopes by some miracle will appear in his pocket. The employee behind the desk, who already looks like she’s dealt with enough this Christmas period and wearing the saddest looking Santa hat, offers him her best customer service smile.  “I’m sorry sir but without a card-” “No, I totally understand, I just,” Buck looks at the last turquoise Nintendo Lite that he’d been about to buy for Chris’s Christmas present (even though Eddie has insisted that it was too much money to spend on one present), “Can you hold it for me, I can come back later today to pay for it, it’s for my Son.” Buck doesn’t cringe at the white lie because while he would never presume anything, Chris is still family to him and explaining the intricacies of all that Eddie and Chris mean to him to a complete stranger who is just trying to do her job is on Christmas Eve Eve is not something either of them want. There must be something desperate about his facial expression because she gives him a small real smile, “We’re not supposed to but I’m here until nine, if you can make it back before then, I’ll keep it behind here with me.” “Thank you! I’ll be back, thank you, you’ve just saved Christmas!” He says as he backs out of the line, Buck sees her chuckle before he turns on his heel and races back to his jeep.

If you want some spoilers I've told @malewifediaz all about it here.

tagging: @wildlife4life​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 

[mazzystar24]

For a fic (that I’m not writing Louis is but he’s not on tumblr rn) what should Buck’s German shepherd service dog be called?

Gimme any name suggestions to pass on

Gracias🫡

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[princessfbi]

What's a trope/topic that you still want to write in your fics? Something that maybe you havent tried or explored much?

OHHHHH! I was just saying that I would love to write another friends with benefits. I LOVE that trope. Especially when it's friends with benefits meets enemies to lovers.

There is another fic I've always really wanted to do but it's more of a darker fic and I have to be careful with those. Not to be super annoying but I can be way too much of an empath sometimes so I have to be careful not to push myself too dark or I will just sink into those feelings and it takes me a long time to get out of them. It's also a subject that frankly is very emotionally laborious and mentally taxing and I know myself well enough to know that I would need pretty steady engagement to feel like it's worth it if that makes sense?

Like... I write for myself first and foremost. But if I am going to put my brain through an emotionally taxing topic to make it as authentic and honest as it can be, I know myself enough to know that if I don't feel like it's received well then I will probably lose motivation to write. Idk that's a long winded answer.

I also have an idea of Buck with a service dog but no plot and I am dying to figure it out!

Send Me Top 5 or Really Any Asks Cus I'm BORED

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Completed Fic: treat an opportunity like it's treating you

Another prompt fulfilled for @911actions and I am especially proud of this one. As a service dog user and Golden Retriever enthusiast, this was a great piece for me to combine interests.

Summary:

After losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, Buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him.

Snippet:

Cranberry retracts her head from his leg, scooches forward, and shoves her nose into his stomach. Not hard. Just like a firm little tap. She does it twice more in succession. 

“Wh-what’s she doing?” Buck asks.

“Cranberry is trained to respond to physical displays of anxiety,” Sam explains. “Things that might indicate an oncoming panic attack, or let you know you need to take a break.” 

Maddie stares very intently at the dog. 

“What was I doing?” Buck asks. 

“Your breathing got heavier,” Sam says. “You were chewing the inside of your cheek, too, I think. She’s been trained on both of those indicators, plus a few more.”

“What a smart girl,” Maddie observes. 

“What, uh, what would I do with that?” Buck asks Sam. 

He keeps stroking Cranberry’s head. He doesn’t want her to think that just because he doesn’t know how to properly act, she isn’t doing a great job. She’s kind of, like, the best dog ever? 

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @goldenbcnes

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buckleybabyblues

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8 @theautumnbard

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added to my writing updates tags :)

[thisissirius]

okay but i also have foxtrot to post and I started writing Eddie with a service dog (called peanut butter and jelly because he lets buck and Chris name her) and i really do have like sixty five buddie fics languishing on my drive

[buddierecs]

hallo!!! i was wondering if you could recommend some chronic disability fics?? preferably buck but also eddie works!!! thanks so much!!!

hii! Thank you for your message! here is the rec list that i did for chronic illness/pain awhile back chronic illness/pain but here are some another fics I have read recently with Buck having disability: in love with every song i've heard (hard of hearing) by: timeshareindestin treat an opportunity like it's treating you (amputee!buck w/ a service dog) by: daisies_and_briars i wanna sing, i wanna shout (i wanna scream 'till the words dry out) (autoimmune disease) by: ifallinlovewithfictionalboys and then this is one with Eddie: keep on whispering in my ear (hard of hearing) by: lesbianrobin enjoy! :)

[loveyouanyway]

💖🙌🍎

hi purple 🥰

💖 which of your fics is your pride and joy?

for published fics, it's gonna be sharing beds like little kids and i'll kiss your scars <3

for wips, i would say all of them even though they can be a pain in the ass at times 🙄 but special shoutout to nonverbal buck fic

🙌 what's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?

oooo i dunno. i try not to make everything perfect and i'm usually like eh good enough sdjskdfd also my writing is also very dialogue heavy so i'm not sure! i'm proud of my writing in general though 🫠

🍎 what's something you learned while researching for a fic?

i learned more about service dogs for autism. did some research for nonverbal buck <3

ask game

[sonicasura]

SonicAsura's Doodles #61

"When it comes to Nevada, any sort of oddity is bond to happen. Bloodthirsty vampires, ravenous zombies, whales or marshmallows falling from the sky and someone's house being lifted in the air cause reality is fucking broken here. A maddening place where hire guns are common. Not a rescue agency.

Yet we have the Skyfall Organization, probably Nevada's first generation of rescue responders. Just like you expect this slowly growing group saves folks from various dangers. Although their founder and her right hand man can be odd." -2BDamned

I like to introduce you folks to three new Madness Combat related OCs: Marin, Consternation and Buck.

Marin is a human who had been dragged into the realm of Nevada thanks to an experiment run by Phobos. A brash, feisty woman whose kindness is both surprising and strange. She founded the Skyfall Organization once fully getting a grasp on Nevada itself.

Her agency can rescue anyone, even if they aren't the target for that current job. Important word being can as Marin will let her workers leave people who don't deserve their help if given the proper reason. It can't be influenced by any outside sources though as she'll ignore it(propaganda for example.)

If someone can't pay for her services, then a favor system is enacted to make sure that debt is paid. Although that person might be living in the agency living quarters until that point. Though I don't think anyone really minds.

Consternation is Marin's right hand MAG whose origin is known to only the woman herself. Rumors goes that he's a clone of Hank J. Wimbleton but whether it's true or not is unknown. He's mostly quiet around strangers and uses his voice with people he likes.

His Magnification sprouted five prehensile tendrils from his back and lower spine capable of moving or stretching. Perfect to grab debris and more Grunts than his fellow coworkers. Consternation has a huge distaste for Hank or 'Antipathy' as he prefers to call the mercenary.

Clashes between the two are rare since Marin makes sure Antipathy isn't in the area for any jobs. Fights between the MAGs can only be disrupted by the woman herself as anyone else would just get killed. Consternation and Antipathy both share some sort of history with Marin.

The last important member of the group is Buck, a natural borne MAG Fluffy Grunt who fills the 'rescue dog' role. A runt who had been casted out from his litter at birth and later found by Marin. Buck doesn't like that many people, only tolerating strangers on the job. There are only a handful of people the Fluffie likes such as Marin, Consternation and Status Quo's Deimos.

Buck will bite anyone he doesn't like especially when they try to pet him. The Fluffy is never seen without his signature acorn hat. His paws can secrete a special sticky substance for the purpose of climbing but can also be used as super glue.

And that's that. Skyfall will be appearing in some of my Madness Combat related fics. I felt that a change of pace was in order. Like sure I can make a mercenary but nah, rescue team.

Until next time folks, continue to thrive in the Madness and I'll see you later. The Fluffy Grunt idea belongs to @fishme4t so check them out!

[bigfootsmom]

for the wip game buck and daisy own my whole heart and neither of them are real

EEEEEE!!! YAY! I'm so glad someone asked about this fic because the concept OWNS MY WHOLE HEART JUST LIKE THEY DO!!!!! Its post Buck begins when Buck is seeing Dr. Copeland, and he's struggling with anxiety, panic attacks, and insomnia. Dr. Copeland suggest a service dog and at first Buck is like no way, I don't need that. But he looks into it and the idea seems better and better the more he thinks about it. At first he's super nervous, but he goes to Bobby to let him know and Bobby is SO supportive. Buck ends up adopting Daisy, a sweet brown pitbull with warm brown eyes (that may or may not have reminded him of Eddie's eyes lol).

“Have you ever considered a service animal, Buck?” 

The question surprises Buck, and he shifts where he's sitting on the edge of his bed, holding up his iPad. Dr. Copeland’s patient face remains neutral as she watches Buck through the screen, waiting for his answer. 

The thought of having a dog had always excited Buck. He had wanted one ever since he was a little boy, but had only asked his parents once for a puppy when he had found a bedraggled, mangy little thing trembling out by the garbage bins behind his school. He still remembers the look of horror on his mother’s face when he had lifted the little creature aloft and begged to keep it. That dream had been put firmly to bed. It was made very clear to him that no matter how much he asked, there was no way his parents would let him get a dog…He’s still not sure what happened to the stray puppy he had brought home.

When he moved to LA, Buck had thought about it some more, but his hours as a firefighter weren’t really the most conducive to owning a pet. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog if Buck got one, only to leave it home alone hours on end while he was at the station. 

“Uh, I thought about getting a dog for a while, but um, I’ve never thought about having a...service animal?” His voice pitches up at the end of his sentence, turning it into a question.  

Buck had heard of service animals before, but he didn’t know why Dr. Copeland would suggest one for him? It’s not like he has lasting issues with his leg, he’s not even on blood thinners anymore. All he can think of is the people that falsely claim pets as service animals and cause nothing but trouble for people with actual service animals. He shudders at the thought of ever being lumped together with that group of people. 

“I–I mean, what would I even need a service animal for? My leg is healed, and I–I can do my job just fine. My panic attacks aren’t that bad, and they hardly ever happen at work…” 

Dr. Copeland nods, taking in all of Buck’s thoughts before calmly explaining, “You may be able to function completely fine during your day to day activities, and while you’re at work, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t benefit from having that additional support.”

[princessfbi]

What's a fic idea that you want to write for Buddie, but you just haven't found the time/inspiration for yet?

OHHHHH!!! I just picked up one that I had put down because I didn't have the time for it that I think you all will like. I also have vibes for Buck and a service dog but I don't have a plot yet! That's the current one that's taken up my brain. A lot of my other ideas I go back and pluck away at when the inspiration hits!

Send Me 911 or Writing Asks Cus I’m Bored

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

No Place Like Home

another Daniel/Armand fic. Read it below or here

Daniel is delirious.

He can't remember the last time he ate. Wait, he can. It had been a hot dog from some street vendor, with the last few bucks he has in his pocket nearly two days ago. He hasn't got any more money. He was kicked out of the hotel yesterday morning for not being able to pay. He knows he has money somewhere, but he can't remember where. It's hard to remember things. Armand always took care of everything so he didn't have to.

But Armand is a thousand miles away on their private island.

He thinks sometimes Armand ruined him for the rest of the world. How can he survive now, with all these ordinary people and their ordinary lives? How, when he knows the extraordinary is out there, just a phone call away?

He's so tired and hungry he feels faint. He should get something to drink. He needs water. He can't remember the last time he drank anything that didn't have alcohol in it. Daniel wishes he had some liqueur now; he's so cold, it would warm him up.

His thin tee shirt does nothing to protect the from the chilly fall air. He had a jacket, but he had taken it off on the bus a few days ago. He fell asleep with it beside him and woke with it gone. He figures whoever stole probably needs it more than him. If Armand were here, he'd go buy him another. Armand handles things like that. Armand makes life easy.

Armand says getting money is simple. Then again, Armand can read people's minds so he has an unfair advantage.

Fuck, but Daniel would kill for a cigarette. He'd ask to bum one from somebody, but he knows he looks a mess. No one's gonna give out smokes to a vagabond. Not that it matters, it's nearly three in the morning. Everyone is asleep.

But it's Chicago; didn't he and Armand once have an apartment in Chicago? It may still be leased in Daniel's name. If only he could remember the way there.

Daniel wonders if he can beg a quarter off someone to make a call. There has to be some other night owl out and about. He could call and Armand would send one of the planes. Daniel hoped for the one with the bedroom, so he could sleep.

He's so cold and so tired.

Daniel finds a payphone. Remembers he can call collect. His fingers are numb and he's shaking so badly he drops the receiver. It's a small thing, but it causes him to burst into tears.

When he bends to pick it up, the world spins. Daniel has to grab unto the phone booth to stay upright. He manages to make the call and soon hears Armand's rich voice “Hello,”

Daniel weeps, unable to form words. He tries, but he keeps hiccuping.

“Daniel?”

Daniel nods, but realizes Armand can't see him. He takes a breath and calms down enough to reply “I wanna come home.”

“Of course, Daniel.”

Daniel sniffles. “Are you mad at me? For leaving?”

“Don't worry about that, beloved. I'll have you home soon. Now listen to me...”

Armand calmly and coolly explains that he's getting a room set up at a hotel for Daniel where he can shower and order room service. Perhaps even nap. The driver will fetch him and take him to the airport when the plane arrives.

Daniel is shown to his room as soon as he arrives at the hotel. There's already food waiting for him. Armand's ordered enough to feed three people. Daniel eats enough for two. He spends ages in the shower, washing off the grime. He wears the hotel bathrobe when he's finished. His clothes are disgusting. He crawls into bed wearing only it, and is woken a few hours later by a knock on the door.

Daniel doesn't recognize the man whose waiting outside, but he recognizes him. “Mr. Molloy, I'm to take you to the airport.”

The man, a middle age fellow with graying hair and laugh lines, looks him up and down. “Would you like me to purchase you some fresh clothes from the gift shop? They have sweat pants and tee shirts.”

Fresh clothes sound heavenly. A few minutes later Daniel is in gray sweats, a tee and a hoodie. The name of the hotel is emblazoned across the hoodie and up one leg of the sweats. Not his most fashionable look, but he's warm.

He falls back asleep in the car to the airport. When they board the train, Daniel is happy to see it's the one with the bedroom. He loves that plane, with it's velvet cushions and lace curtains.

It's nearing ten by the time they reach Night Island. Armand isn't waiting for him, but he's probably asleep. Daniel is shown to his room by another nameless servant. He collapses into bed and passes out.

Daniel isn't sure how long he sleeps, but he wakes to cool hands touching his face. He blinks open his eyes and sees Armand looking down at him. “What time is it?” Daniel slurs, still half asleep.

“Nearing six.”

Daniel tugs Armand's wrist. Armand understands what he's asking and slides into the bed next to him. Daniel immediately wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his chest. “You ate yet?”

“I wanted to see you first.”

“Mm, feed from me,” Daniel says. He misses the feel of Armand's fangs in his skin.

“Not now, my love. You're too weak.”

Daniel frowns. “Not fair.”

Armand's fingers grip his chin and turn his head up. “When you've rested, we'll talk about it.”

“Then kiss me, I've missed you,” Daniel demands. He hopes he doesn't sound like a child.

Armand gently releases him. “When you're back to full strength.”

Daniel whines. “Just one kiss.”

“Nothing is ever 'just one' with you,” says Armand, but he sounds fond.

“Come on, baby. It's been weeks.”

“Whose fault is that?” Armand says and Daniel wants to argue, remind Armand that he said some cruel things last time they fought. But mostly he just wants Armand to kiss him and tell him he's happy to see him.

Armand smiles and leans in to press the briefest of kisses to Daniel's eager mouth. “I'm happy to see you.”

Daniel grins at him. “You poking around my head?”

“You're thinking loudly.”

Daniel yawns. “I'm sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep.”

He shakes his head. “Don't wanna. I wanna be with you.”

Armand is clever enough to see where this is going. “Shall I stay with you?”

“That'd be nice.”

Armand runs a hand through his hair. Daniel presses into it like a cat. Armand dips down and kisses Daniel on the cheek. “Go to sleep, Daniel.”

Daniel barely closes his eyes before he falls asleep. There really is no place like home.