#mellaithwen fanfic
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To hum and sway (bucktommy, 1.4k words)
[read on ao3]
Spoilers/Spec-fic for 7x06 "There Goes The Groom"
After the wedding that wasn’t, and the wedding that was, after the search, and the rescue, and the drama of the day, Buck finds himself sitting in the hospital waiting room when Tommy turns up...
Now that Chimney’s been moved out of the ICU, the hospital staff have kindly set up a cot bed in his room for Maddie to get some rest beside him, while Buck stands—or rather–-sits sentry outside. While his sister clearly couldn’t have predicted she’d be reading out her vows standing between a heart-rate monitor and an IV stand, Buck’s just glad she was able to read them out to Chim at all.
A nurse shuffles past Buck down the corridor, and he pulls his legs back from where they’d been obnoxiously extended in his late-night exhaustion. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room before stretching his neck and shoulders until he hears a satisfying pop.
His hands clench into tight fists on either side of the chair he’s sat in, and he grips them tightly until his knuckles are white and the pain of his own nails digging into the flesh of his palms is enough to distract the guilt spiral he’s been fending off all day.
Maddie and Chimney will get their big-day. Buck will make sure of it. They’ll have the party that they rightly deserve, surrounded by their friends and family. A happy day, a calm day. The quiet, intimate ceremony in their own back garden that they’d wanted all along before losing track of the guestlist.
But that would be later. When they were both ready, and recovered.
At least for now they got to wear the rings. At least they got to call each other husband and wife.
Finally.
“Evan?” Buck’s head shoots up from where he’d been lying back, leaning his heavy head against the wall.
There were so few people who called him by his given name nowadays...
His parents had long since left to do what they referred to as “damage control” with the guests and venue—since the rest of the 118 were more concerned with Maddie and Chimney than appeasing distant relatives who had traveled just so gosh darn far, Evan.
He’d corrected Bobby almost instantly on that first day so many years ago, that his name was Buck, and besides, his captain was currently driving Mr and Mrs Lee back home for the evening after spending so many hours in the same holding pattern of he’s stable—that’s the main thing—until Chimney had finally woken up and insisted with a raspy voice, that his Captain marry he and Maddie right then, right now...
And Eddie? Eddie had only ever called him Evan the once.
(Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t think about that moment often…)
But no, it wasn’t him either; Eddie was with Hen, roaming the corridors for a vending machine that worked until Bobby came back to bully them all into finally getting into his truck and going home. So that just left…
“Tommy? W-what are you—?”
“I came as soon as I heard he’d been found. How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?”
Buck’s brain struggles to keep up, his software in need of an update—Tommy’s here, standing in front of him. In the hospital corridor. Buck’s phone was god knows where, and with Chimney missing and his sister losing her mind with worry, he hadn’t had a chance to think about the fact he’d accidentally ghosted his date. But here he was. Standing in front of Buck like a guardian angel who’d done more than his own fair share to help in the search—all the while still wearing the clothes he’d put on as Buck’s plus one to the wedding that never happened that morning.
This is probably the closest thing to flustered he’s seen Tommy look the whole time he’s known him, and if the circumstances were different Buck thinks he would have found it endearing—but his head’s too much of a mess to even go there right now. The soft blue shirt he’s wearing is rumpled now but Buck just knows it would have been pressed and clean to start with. The slacks and matching suit jacket are both a wooly kind of mauve. Buck thinks it would have been nice to press up against the material as they slow-danced at the end of the evening. The lights would be dimmed, while the wedding band played something slow. He wonders if his parents would have noticed. He finds he also doesn’t really care.
He remembers Maddie and Chimney’s kiss under a symphony of high-pitched beeps, and the mumbled static of a tannoy announcement requesting a doctor’s presence in triage. Jee had clapped her hands in Mrs Lee’s arms before pretending to throw invisible flowers in the air just like she’d practiced with her uncle Buck.
How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?
“They’re—” Buck falters when he finally answers, genuinely unsure in the grand scheme of things. If he were to answer literally, he’d say they were sleeping. But emotionally? Physically?
“They’re…”
Chimney’s in the hospital. Maddie almost lost him again, and if Buck looks down, he knows he’ll find that there’s still patches of dried blood on the sleeves of his ruined pink jacket—remnants of the day, along with the pounding behind his eyes that he just can’t seem to shake.
Tell Maddie—
No, no Chim, don’t you dare make me do that, you can tell her yourself, okay? Just stay with me. Eddie’s gone to get help and Maddie’s waiting for you to come home—
“They’re married!” Buck finishes with a laugh that’s incredulous only so far as the circumstances of the last twenty four hours have made him seriously question his own sanity. Or maybe that’s just the last dregs of adrenaline leaving his head in a spin.
“Bobby performed the ceremony, but Chimney wore the white-gown this time.”
He’s deflecting. He’s searching for humor, for the laugh to be had at the absurdity of it all. He’s the class clown disrupting the other kids because he didn’t hear what the teacher said and he’s trying not to panic. He’s overcompensating at the academy because he has no support system to speak of in LA, and he needs this. He wants this. He can’t flunk out. He can’t fail.
He’s pushing and pushing and pushing to see where the boundary lies, to see how far he can go before he disappoints the family he’s found at the 118. He wants to know where that line in the sand is. How long until the tide comes in? How long until he drowns?
He’s….. he’s exhausted. And when Tommy tilts his head to the side and frowns, reading Buck like an open book of sad tells, suddenly the effort to keep the mask in place is too much. His shoulders slump and Buck’s whole body hunches forward with the weight of the day pressing down on him—only to find Tommy’s arms there ready to catch him when he falls.
“He nearly died,” Buck whispers into the crook of Tommy’s neck as he’s embraced. “Chim nearly died and if we hadn’t found him when we did….”
His voice cracks, the words seemingly too painful to even speak into the universe. Buck can’t bear to say more, and Tommy doesn’t ask him to either, he just pulls him in closer, squeezes him that little bit tighter, and holds him there for as long as he needs. He brings his hand up to the back of Buck’s neck, gently kneads at the knot he finds there. Cradles him like he’s something precious and deserving when for so long he’s convinced himself of the opposite.
After a time, when Buck’s breathing starts to even out, the hitch in his chest seemingly dissolved into the atmosphere, and the shock has thawed enough for him to feel the soft material of Tommy’s jacket under his fingertips, he finds that Tommy has been slowly moving their bodies into a sway. Leading, just a little bit—really they’re barely moving at all—but if Buck pretends, he thinks he can hear music playing.
“You said you wanted to dance,” Tommy says; answering the question Buck hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask yet. For the first time in hours, Buck’s mind goes quiet.
“Thank you,” he whispers a little self-consciously when the words catch in his throat.
Thank you for coming, thank you for holding me, thank you for being here with no judgment and no expectations. Thank you for caring when we barely even know each other. Thank you for treating me kindly, for being gentle and soft when all day I’ve felt like I was being strangled with barbed wire. Thank you.
When Tommy hums in response, Buck can’t help but lean into the embrace, finding solace in his arms. He can feel the warmth of his breath drifting along the side of his neck, soothing the goosebumps that reside there.
And when he presses a soft kiss on the stubble of Tommy’s jaw, it tickles.
-fin.
#911#911 fic#911fic#911 spoilers#bucktommy#bisexual buck#buck x tommy#kinkley#tevan#tommy kinard#evan buckley#911 abc#911 on abc#911 fox#bucktommy fic#mellaithwen fanfic#it IS FUCK IT FRIDAY AFTER ALL <3#911 speculation#911 spec fic#madney
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WIP Wednesday
I was tagged by @mellaithwen @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove and I think others in Seven Sentence Sunday, WIP Wednesday, etc, and I just have... not had the time, and also I'm not writing fic right now but my novels and I'm not sure people care about those?
But now I'm sick and stuck at home so here is a tidbit from a random smutfic that's been in my drafts forever.
Eddie twists his head a little, frowning, not sure if that was a good or a bad noise—and sees Buck is staring down at his stomach.
Eddie stares too, and realizes what Buck sees:
The ever so slight bulge as his cock thrusts inside.
Eddie’s mind blanks out for a second, but his body doesn’t, his legs spreading and cock leaking harder, his hand moving unconsciously to press down—
“Oh fuck,” Buck chokes out. “Oh fuck I can feel that I can—Eddie—”
He presses down harder, feeling the shift of Buck’s cock, the nudge of the head—if he hadn’t come already that would do it, he’d be coming right this instant.
I don't even know how many kinks I crammed into this fic but it's. uh. a lot. No idea when I'll be posting it but I will eventually!
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my dearest darling — if it sparks joy:
26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it.”
(I feel like it has panic attack vibes but you know best!!)
26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it.”
Eddie was supposed to be getting better! That was the whole point of every other freaking Tuesday afternoon, sitting in an overstuffed chair and spilling out his guts to Frank! So he could get better; be better. What was the point of clawing his own chest, ripping out all those defenses like overgrown weeds rooted deep in his soul, if he wasn’t getting better?
It was never easy but it had been getting easier. Maybe that was the problem. Eddie had let himself fall into a false sense of security. He’d deluded himself into thinking that there was a moment in the world where he could be safe and things didn’t have to be a fight. But that had been a mistake because there he was in the goddamn freezer section of his super market fighting for every ounce of oxygen in the store.
It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and Eddie was going to suffocate with Marie Calendar frozen pot pies behind him. He’d drawn his knees up to his chest and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes so hard that he couldn't even see past the stars of pain and he just tried to breathe but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working and Eddie was there again! His heart racing. His body, small and defenseless. Sand, pavement, cheap linoleum, it all felt the same on his raw, brittle skin. And there were eyes. So many eyes. People staring. People looking as he fell apart. People terrified. People assessing. People calculating where to aim to spill the most of his blood!
He wasn’t safe! He wasn’t safe! He wasn’t—
“Eddie!”
The shrill ringing in Eddie’s ears splintered for only one voice and that voice did so much more than any counting or mental cataloguing of his surroundings ever could.
Buck.
Buck was home. Buck was sunlight and warm smiles. Buck was summer nights when the air was finally cool and the beers in his hand were just for show. Buck was… safe.
“Eddie! Hey! Hey!”
Each word from Buck was like a bullet that ricocheted into Eddie’s chest. It punched him in the heart, the stomach, the throat and forced him to gasp. So, Eddie gasped.
And then the first taste of oxygen on his chest had him sobbing.
Eddie reached blindly as he bawled, terror seizing his chest. But he knew Buck was there. Buck was safety. Buck wouldn’t leave—
Warm hands grasped Eddie’s own and he jolted like it was another punch to the chest. But between the crying and the suffocating, the exhale that time tripped on the knot in Eddie’s throat, and he couldn’t breathe again. His skin was too hot and too cold. His heart was going to crack through his ribs. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear and the ringing was turning into a wild wailing in his ears. Danger danger danger screamed in his head and Buck was there. Buck was there because Eddie put him there and now he couldn’t—
“Breathe Eddie!”
Buck. Buck was there. Buck had always been there. He’d gone to the cereal aisle to claim his prize after Eddie lost a stupid bet. Buck had been in the Jeep driving him there. Buck had been in his living room, laughing and smiling because he had guessed almost every item of Eddie’s list.
Buck had dragged him out. Out of the open. Under the truck. Out of his room. Under the shelter love and family and support.
His knuckles ached. He was squeezing Buck too hard. But Buck was squeezing back just as tightly and Buck wanted him to breathe.
He could. He could. He just needed to remember how.
Eddie shook his head, gasping, hyperventilating as the world started to get spotty.
Then Eddie’s hand was being pressed against a chest. A broad, warm chest that rose and dipped like a rolling wave.
“Follow me,” Buck said and that was easy.
Eddie would follow Buck off the edge of the world if he asked.
The first few steps— breaths— were clumsy and stilted with spit flying from his lips and snot clogging his nose. But he tried and he tried and he tried because Buck asked him to and because Eddie wasn't going to be like this anymore. He wasn't going to let his fear win. He was not a victim of his terror. He was a survivor, a fighter, and he was going to—
The first real breath of air tasted like copper on his tongue but it went down his throat and into his lungs, filling them so they could inflate in his chest. Buck's hot breath fanned over Eddie's too cold skin, flushed and thin, and warmed him to the core. Eddie mimicked him and exhaled.
“Just breathe. Like that. That’s it.” Buck kept saying in the stream of reassurances that usually made Eddie's skin itch with being treated so delicately. He hated it. But he was starved for it when it came from Buck. "In and out. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Buck was there. Buck was safe. But Buck was... Buck could...
"Are you hurt?" Eddie thought he asked.
He needed to know. He couldn't see and he needed to know that Buck was alright! That Buck was safe! He held his breath tight in his chest and refused to let go until he knew that Buck was okay. Because if Buck wasn't then Eddie would rather suffocate so that Buck could have the air instead.
"I'm okay," Buck said, breathless too. "I'm okay. We're okay, Eddie."
And Eddie collapsed into the space of Buck's chest and tried to remember how to breathe.
#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie#buddie fic#911fic#my fic writing#prompt game#royal decree#mellaithwen#911 fanfic
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there are mANY SOMEONE'S looking forward to your fic my dear!!!
(here's some stressed buck to help with your creative flow ;) hehe)
This kind of looks like how I imagine Buck to look when:
Buck grimaced and shook his head. He knew the questions would come, and he didn’t mind that, but having to talk about it still felt nauseating.
“Not even that,” Buck responded after a moment. “We used to sleep together. That’s it.”
“And now he’s blackmailing you with nudes?” Chimney questioned, though he sounded unsure of the wording.
“No.” Buck’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “No, I– I mean the photo is of me, and I am nude, but I didn’t take them. He did.”
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Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.
Tagged by the amazing @slycopersicum Thank you!
At the moment, I have 6 buddie fanfics!
1. The beach makes a soft bed for them to rest together, listening to the waves lapping at the shore as they watch the sunset on the horizon. (Could you love the ocean with me?) - Written with @hippolotamus
2. It’s a perfectly mundane Friday, and Eddie’s hands are sweating. (Shame on me 'cause I didn't see, that you were looking at me baby by the ferris wheel)
3. Devon knows running consistently helps with keeping the habit. (Things that go 'Hoot' in the night)
4. “This is Buck! Sorry I missed your call, I’ll be with you as soon as I’m done slinging hoses - if this is Chri-“ (Seeing the Signs (The Voicemail, The Poster, The Dotted Line))
5. “You know, you’ll get square eyes if you keep playing on that thing all night, and with no lights on, Edmundo Diaz , for shame.” (Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations)
6. It's been three days and still the rain hasn't let up. (Electrostatic Attraction)
Tagging: @hippolotamus @elvensorceress @rogerzsteven @alyxmastershipper @spaceprincessem @mellaithwen @rewritetheending @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @ajunerose @thekristen999 @jobairdxx @bekkachaos @swiftiediaz @loveyourownsmiilee @rocksaltandroll @amberlyinviolet
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Tagged by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels because she thinks she's funny.
last song: "Should Have Been Us" by Travis Atreo
favourite color: Purple
currently watching: Rewatching House and catching up on One Piece. Just finished GO S2 and waiting on the OP Live Action on Netflix.
last movie: Oppenheimer
currently reading: A book by a friend that I'm procrastinating on and random Good Omens fanfics.
sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet
relationship status: Irl? Single. On this hellsite? Married as a motherfucker.
current obsession: Finding the time to take care of some projects around my house.
last thing I googled: 'trump turning himself in' 😂
currently working on: Editing the book I'm reading, podfics for the podfic fest, and a podfic of "you'll have what's meant to be" by @buckactuallys (that's the next thing y'all are getting from me)
Tagging: @catdadeddie @tulipfromtheinternet @extasiswings @princessfbi @pragmatic-optimist @mellaithwen @eddiediaaz @nelsonnicholas @like-the-rest-of-la @theladyyavilee @jamiettart @brassm @lucydonato @welcometololaland @blackestglass @barbiediaz @leothil @mandzuking17 @evcndiaz @tripleaxeldiaz @nymika-arts and whoever else feels like playing. <3
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tagged by @oatflatwhite and @mellaithwen and @buckactuallys with perfect timing bc i am actually writing something again lmao
rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.
“that’s a big question,” she says, and the corners of her mouth curl into a smile.
yes this is barbie fanfic yes i’m gonna make barbie and gloria kiss about it any further questions
tagging. uh how many words is that ?? 15 ?? @hattalove @thatbuddie @capseycartwright @rewritetheending @homerforsure @ghosthunterbuck @renecdote @shitouttabuck @dearestdiaz @deareddie @burnthatbridge @messyhairdiaz @barbiediaz @jamiestartt @fleurdebeton
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Happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day to all of my favorite writers!!
@rogerzsteven @calinaannehart @hopeintheashes @gayedmundodiaz @tails89 @renecdote @buckaroo118 @mellaithwen @nurse-buckley @capseycartwright @lovebuck @harvestleaves @hmslusitania @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @datleggy @sugarandspace @ashavahishta @ao3feed-buddie @paranoidbean @princessfbi @indigo2831 @elvensorceress @evanbucxley @extasiswings @homerforsure #and many more wonderful writers #appreciate all of you
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Ciara ajsgsjssg the spot the lightning hitting buck...it's the same side of the shoulder eddie got shot.... THEY'RE GONNA HAVE SCARS IN THE SAME PLACE honestly what kinda 'you get a new scar whenever your soulmate gets a scar' trope of a fanfic is this I honestly can't anymore jwhsjshsjshsjsbshs like??? when they hug they'll complete each other's wounds eye-
akjdshfsh omg you're so right i'm screaming?????????? unfortunately apparently lightning scars only last a v short time and fade within a day or two (thank you @mellaithwen for that info lol) but now that you've put that soulmate scar comparison in my head my brain is whirring ajsdh we are gonna mine So much fic out of this storyline!!!!!
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Sharing some of my favourite fic authors for Fanfic writers appreciation day. If you haven’t read any of their stories, I highly recommend it!
@woodchoc-magnum, @chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky, @homerforsure, @queerbitchdiaz, @princessfbi, @spaceprincessem, @mellaithwen, @littlespoonevan, @henswilsons, @lovebuck, @rewritetheending, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @hoediaz, @buckactuallys, @hattalove, @talespinner230, @squidded, @paranoidbean, @waywardrenegades
Sorry if I have forgotten someone! Hope you have all been properly appreciated today for your awesome fics :)
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fanfic ask game!
tagged by the lovely @mellaithwen, thank u amy! <3
What is your total posted word count on AO3?
On my hammersmiths account 163,571 (holy shit)!! but across all my 300 accounts loool it’s 781,646 (omg ive actually never calculated that before. hot damn)
How often do you write?
I try for every day!!
Do you have a routine for writing?
I must have a cup of tea (any tea really, but i must have tea) which means on marathon writing days i drink like 8 or 9 cups ashfdjasj. I also love listening to music while i write! One of my friends recently made me a playlist so i’ve been listening to that a lot recently
What’s your favourite tropes/pairing?
i have to say i am a slut for outsider pov. It tickles me quite unlike anything else, I just love seeing what other people think about my precious blorbos. (maybe that’s the appeal of reaction videos as well?) But fake dating is excellent, as is didn’t know they were dating. (tbh every trope!)
as for pairings, right now ofc it is buck/eddie my most faves <3 i have also somehow found myself falling down a bit of steve/eddie hole as well (avert your eyes i’m embarrassed too ashdfhsd). All-time booky favourites will always be percy/annabeth, ronan/adam and kaz/inej too beloveds beloveds
Do you have a favourite fic of yours?
ooooo i might have to say either by the cracks of skin or you’re my whole house! i think i’m quite proud of the prose in cracks of skin, it sort of turned out almost exactly how i wanted it to, and you’re my whole house just ended up being really fun to write and i still read it back today and feel proud of it
Your fic with the most kudos?
everything’s coming up milhouse, aka lafd updates man my most most beloved <3 (technically i have a steddie fic with more but we won’t talk about that sdfhsh) i’m still so so proud of it and the way it turned out and im still so gooey over how nice everyone was about it, its definitely deserving of the most kudos out of all my fics
Anything you don’t like about your writing?
i am the absolute worst at coming up with ideas LOL. it’s not so much a hindrance in fic but there’s a reason most original work has not surpassed 20k, i just love building off other things that coming up with an entirely new idea is a little tricky haha. i’m also feel like i can be super repetitive, like i think if you took a shot every time i said the word “glance” in a fic u would be dead by 3k
Now something you do like?
I don’t think i’m too bad at, like, narrative voice? Like i think my buck/eddie narrative voices are quite good and also distinguishable from the other, and on occasion i think i can be kinda funny too. phew that was tricky
apologies if these r double tags gang but tagging @trippedandfell @thatbuddie @hoediaz @queerpanikkar @gayeddiaz @gayravi @colonoscopys @mmtions @eddiediazes <3
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All these memories run my mind in slow motion
buddie coda to 6x18 “Pay It Forward” inspired by @rosietherivendell 's agonising but amazing post :')
After the bridge collapse, Eddie's reminded of the moments right after the shooting... [also on ao3]
tagged in seven sentence sunday by my darlings @homerforsure @littlespoonevan @fcntasmas @nymika-arts @rewritetheending @capseycartwright and @indigo2831
and I'll tag @princessfbi @buckactuallys @renecdote @hopeintheashes @thekristen999 @henswilsons @like-the-rest-of-la @lovebuck @ghosthunterbuck @shortsighted-owl @tripleaxeldiaz and @buttercupbuck <33
Buck says, I’ve got you, when he pulls him out from the camper van, and Eddie can’t shake the sense of déjà vu that haunts him alongside the burning ache of his broken ribs.
At the hospital, in the waiting room, and later still once they’ve all been kicked out and sent home by Athena, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t ignore the feeling that he’s missing something; that he’s forgotten something.
Now that they’re home, Buck’s pottering away in the kitchen, and Eddie’s been ordered to stay on the couch for the foreseeable.
“Take it easy, I got this,” Buck had insisted when Eddie had made a noise of complaint at being coddled.
I’ve got you.
Christopher’s video game is set to a lower volume than usual, and ever since they’d picked him up from school, he’s been careful to sit with space between them to limit the chances of accidentally elbowing his father in pursuit of a high-score.
The cold pack Eddie’s holding against his abdomen is getting warm, and he can hear the tell-tale beeps of the timer being set on the oven. A pasta bake, if Eddie remembers correctly. Or. Was it something with broccoli?
Maybe both?
He yawns. The day’s harrowing events bear down on him, and showering away the dust and grime off of his body had taken more effort than he’d expected. He shifts, and a wave of exhaustion has him blinking slowly in its wake. He wonders what time it is, but his eyes remain closed.
“Food won’t be long,” Buck’s voice drifts from above—closer now, and Christopher responds with a hangry remark. One that, judging by the ensuing complaint of “Buuuck!” resulted in having his hair tousled for the cheek.
“Just for that you can come help me with the salad,” Buck tells Chris, and Eddie feels his son shift to his feet beside him.
“Dad’s sleeping,” he says in an exaggerated whisper but Eddie doesn’t catch a response if there is one. He feels the touch of careful fingers brushing against his own as the not-so-cold pack is gently pried from Eddie’s grasp, and without it to hold on to, the dream comes quick.
He’s on the ground—pinned by the detritus of the camper van—pinned by the threat of a sniper—pinned by the determined look of his best friend crawling across the asphalt to get to him. “Hang on, just hang on!”
Buck grabs a hold of his right arm—in one instance he apologizes in advance, in another, he screams from beneath the fire-truck as he scrambles forward, and in both Eddie yells at the pain as he’s dragged to safety. Pulled to his feet, and held by a steady grasp. Cradled and carried and lifted to safety. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve—I’ve—I’ve—
The images overlap, memories intertwined, and Eddie struggles to make sense of any of it until he sees the dried blood across the side of Buck’s face. Streaming from his nose, with small grazes by his eye. Red smears on the side of his neck, more still on his white shirt—no, his black turnout—Eddie’s mind switching between the two like some garish flip-book. Night and day, but one constant remains.
Buck.
The last thing Eddie sees clearly in the dream is the image of Buck’s face hovering above him—fear and desperation painfully visible through the violent red splatter on his cheeks. Like an awful piece of performance art, Eddie’s existence has been boiled down to an imitation of a Jackson Pollock painting on his best friend’s shirt.
Is that mine? He wonders with a new kind of horror as his eyes flutter open.
“Are you hurt?” He whispers, still caught in the dream as he slowly wakes to find Buck staring down at him, in the same way he had in the dream. Eddie reaches up to gently touch the small scratches and cuts dotted across Buck’s frowning face, only to elicit a small wince from the other man.
“You were dreaming,” Buck whispers, but he doesn’t pull away—if anything he leans into the touch, sighs at the feeling. “Dinner’s ready,” he adds softly, making no move to stand from where he’s crouched in front of the sofa. In front of Eddie.
Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him that the dreams were really memories—nightmarish ones, hidden, buried deep, and knocked loose by the image of Buck’s face—bloodied and shouting—as he pulled Eddie to safety again and again. He doesn’t know how to respond at all, so he lets his thumb drift across the beginnings of a bruise running into Buck’s hairline instead. Close, and intimate; quiet and soft.
“Were you dreaming about today?” Buck asks gently, his words laced with a painful kind of understanding. Eddie’s voice catches in his throat. Yes, and no, he thinks to say. Why didn’t you tell me? He wonders too.
Before he can say either, Christopher calls out to them from the dining table, washed up and ready to eat, and the moment has passed.
Eddie gives Buck a small smile instead, slipping into the familial domestic routine of dinner with his son and his best friend—his family.
“Help me up?” He asks with a slight groan as his ribs remind him of the endless ache that stretches closer to Eddie’s heart that he’d ever care to admit.
“Sure,” Buck says, standing tall, and reaching down, his hand outstretched to Eddie; a steady anchor, a port in the storm. Always.
“I’ve got you.”
[ also on ao3 ]
#911 spoilers#911fic#911#911 fanfic#911 fic#buddie#buddie fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911 abc#911 fox#911 on fox#mellaithwen fanfic
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Tease Tidbit Tuesday
I was tagged by @mellaithwen (MWAH) and boy oh boy oh boy I am SO excited to share this fic with you all!
Also I gotta say this is not the point of either fic but between this fic and the PSD fic I am having a lot of fun doing some kinks I don't think I've done in this fandom before! It's always fun to try something new, keep things fresh, etc.
ANYWAY... behold one of my favorite scenes I have written in this fanfic:
Chim makes a noise like he’s choking and Hen thumps him on the back.
“Uh.” Buck’s heart is still trying to win Olympic gold in gymnastics. “Atton, um, he doesn’t say anything. He’s uh speechless.”
“I’ll bet he is,” Athena mutters, barely audible.
“Um.” Eddie clears his throat. “Then I kiss him.”
Buck can feel the hot flush creeping up his neck. “What?”
Maddie has practically shoved her entire can of soda into her mouth.
“I kiss him,” Eddie repeats.
Buck feels dizzy. “Um. Uh. Well. Atton will, um, after a second of shock he’ll… kiss him back.”
Eddie’s ears are pink. He looks down at the table and fiddles with the dice with his free hand. “After a moment Imbolc will pull back and say… I love you to the core.”
Maddie is making distressed noises around the soda can.
Fun fact: As certain people will know, the "eating a soda can while a love scene is going on in your D&D session" is an actual real thing that has happened. Bless you, Travis Willingham.
#mads writes stuff#tagging thing#buddie#buddie fanfic#I just thought that using Eddie-talking-in-character#but-really-meaning-Buck-the-person#was a hilariously meta moment to throw in a quote#that Eddie's actor said about Eddie's feelings for Buck#like THE LAYERS OF META HERE#HOW COULD I RESIST
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🔥🔥🔥🔥
For you?
Not that Buck minded. He loved when Eddie was too tired to second guess himself. When all he wanted was a hug and some kisses; all he wanted was to curl around Buck and fall asleep tangled up with each other.
They had their own separate bunks but that didn’t change the fact that more times than not they ended up falling asleep facing each other, their hands outstretched like they wanted to touch.
Please Send Me Fanfic Quote Asks
#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie#my fic writing#royal fic writing#fanfic writing ask game#writing talk#evan ‘buck’ buckley#royal decree#mellaithwen
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Because you already spoiled me with hen+buck on discord please can I ask about the station takeover fic? 😍
ask and you shall receive! (but only a little bit)
this one is essentially a hostage situation, taking place at the 118. and of course our fave whumpee evan buckley is the one to take the brunt of any hurt in this story 😉
this is however, going to be a gift fic! so my lips are sealed on anymore details hehe
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Fanfic Origin Story
Tagged by the wonderful: @hippolotamus and @monsterrae1 - Thank you, you two
What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?
First fandom I read was Skulduggery Pleasant on FF.net - It’s how i stumbled into the world of fanfiction (Second to BrainySupes on DeviantArt)
What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?
If I recall correctly I did actually try to write a Klaine (glee) Maximum ride AU fic, I wrote like 300 word and it was atrocious but I think that might be the very first thing I tried to write, its that or a Self-Insert OC Skulduggery pleasant fic.
What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?
Just put the ideas down in a document or paper, you never know when you might think of something that really inspires you.
What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?
The stucky CATWS fandom in 2014 - shout out to @mellaithwen @rocksaltandroll @thunderboltsortofapenny @amberlyinviolet @boopifer - the fics, the plot bouncing, the ideas; it was such an amazing environment and made me so happy.
Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).
Two of my favourite lines from Electrostatic attraction so far:
Only the top of his head visible from where he has swaddled himself in a mountain of blankets. A ‘Chim’-ichanga, he’d joked.
Tagging @rogerzsteven @mellaithwen @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @thosetwofirefighters @the-likesofus @alyxmastershipper @bigfootsmom @thekristen999
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Last Seen Blogs
ivre-de-visions
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writerly-ramblings
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