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@ongjoelle
i don’t know how to make a proper masterpost, so here’s just some basic blog information :))
my name is joelle and my pronouns are she/her.
my blog is dedicated to 9-1-1. no need to ask permission to use any quotes and drabbles i post for fic ideas! i just ask that you credit me :)
i mainly post about buddie, but i am a safe place for all ships!
> link to my incorrect quotes is here.
> link to my AO3 is here.
S06E01 » LET THE GAMES BEGIN
hi i’m a lesbian
and apparently my ex bf is openly gay now okay
hi i’m a lesbian
Buck: Eddie, I’m going to kill you.
Eddie: Why do you have a toy truck in your hand?
Buck: I keep finding toy cars everywhere. In my boots. In my drawers. In my food. They’re everywhere. And it’s your fault.
Eddie: I gave Theo one Hot Wheels car and that’s it!
Buck: He keeps asking for more! He inherited your car obsession! This is on you!
Eddie: Bla bla bla.
Ravi: Do they even hear themselves right now.
Hen and Chimney: No.
#159 x
s2 fembuddie firefighter calendar submissions anyone
NEW TAY SONG AND ITS SO GOOD WE ARE SO BACKKKK
Buck: Eddie, I’m going to kill you.
Eddie: Why do you have a toy truck in your hand?
Buck: I keep finding toy cars everywhere. In my boots. In my drawers. In my food. They’re everywhere. And it’s your fault.
Eddie: I gave Theo one Hot Wheels car and that’s it!
Buck: He keeps asking for more! He inherited your car obsession! This is on you!
Eddie: Bla bla bla.
Ravi: Do they even hear themselves right now.
Hen and Chimney: No.
#159 x
lmao left harry out of this one but just know he’s uhh informing may and athena of the bullshit coming out of their mouths
Buck: Eddie, I’m going to kill you.
Eddie: Why do you have a toy truck in your hand?
Buck: I keep finding toy cars everywhere. In my boots. In my drawers. In my food. They’re everywhere. And it’s your fault.
Eddie: I gave Theo one Hot Wheels car and that’s it!
Buck: He keeps asking for more! He inherited your car obsession! This is on you!
Eddie: Bla bla bla.
Ravi: Do they even hear themselves right now.
Hen and Chimney: No.
#159 x
"I think we coevolved."
Buck's voice is a soft hum in the evening air--breaking the comfortable silence like the low buzz of a power line when you step close. Eddie wants to reach a hand out to touch it--thinks it'll kill him if he does.
Buck is stretched out on the grass of his backyard, staring up at the blushing sky. Dirt from his garden under his fingernails, rogue flour from hours before still settled into his shirt sleeve.
It's a lazy Saturday. He'd brought Chris over for no real reason. Had spent the day harvesting Buck's small crop of strawberries, adding the ones they didn't eat to the farmer's market basket, piling them onto fresh-baked shortcake, wiping whipped cream from the corners of their mouths.
Now, Eddie is on the patio, half his gaze on Buck, the other half on Chris and Theo playing Go Fish in the living room. A mug of chamomile warms his hands--not that they need warming in the late spring air. Still, it grounds him somehow.
"Coevolved?" He asks, and Buck nods, his gaze still fixed on the sky.
"Mutualistically of course."
Eddie chuckles lightly, and he watches with delight how Buck's smile stretches at the sound. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bud."
Buck's gaze finally shifts, offering Eddie a grin--soft and sunny like the hazy sunset--before turning back to the wispy, pinking cloud that's been drifting slowly over the yard.
"It's where different species adapt to each other's traits," he explains. "Plants and pollinators mostly." He picks at the grass under his hand, rolls it gently between his fingertips. "Like, Darwin's orchid and the sphynx moth. The orchid has a long nectar tube to force the moth to touch its reproductive structures when it eats. The moth is the only one with a tongue long enough to get to the nectar. They think it wasn't always like that, but one got longer and the other adapted to match it and on and on like that. Now the orchid has a reliable pollinator, and the moth has a source of food that it doesn't have to compete for."
The grass falls absently from his fingers. "They evolved to survive together, you know?" The deepening sunset casts a warm glow across his face. He turns his head, his gaze falling to Eddie again. This time it settles there. "Can't live without each other anymore."
The electric buzz courses lightly through the air between them. Eddie can't avoid it this time.
happy pride month to all women who are sure of their love for women and non-binaries and will forever question if they love men or not (me. i’m talking about me)
Hello,handsome
Illicit
maybe love leaves paper trails
ps: i recommend starting over again even if you read the snippet bc i added and edited some stuff. love and light <3
Eddie proposes on a Thursday.
Nothing particularly notable about the day itself. No anniversary. No holiday. No grand orchestration of fate. No celestial alignment. No significance carved into the calendar. Just late evening sunlight slanting gold through kitchen windows; the kind of light that makes everything feel softer at the edges than it really is, Christopher's abandoned homework spread across the table amongst Theo's colouring pages all half completed, the distant hum of traffic from outside.
And Eddie—Eddie standing in front of him with nervous hands and unbearably soft eyes.
Afterwards, Buck will remember every detail with startling clarity. The way Eddie's thumb catches against the velvet edge of the ring box. The slight hitch in his breathing before he asks. The warmth of the light painting him amber and gold, like something holy. The tv on low volume in the living room, more presence than sound.
Outside, Los Angeles moves on without noticing anything is about to change. Then, Eddie kneels in front of him. Not as a best friend. Not as a partner in the fragile, long built architecture of their lives. But as something more certain than either of those words ever managed to be on their own.
It isn't dramatic. It isn't loud.
It's Eddie Diaz asking him a question like it has always already been answered. Buck says yes before the question is even fully formed in the air between them. Because of course he does. Because there is nothing else in him that thinks to respond differently.
Four nights later, Buck lies awake, staring at the ceiling, next to Eddie, listening to him breathe as he sleeps on his side, one arm thrown loosely across Buck's waist like even unconscious he refuses to let go completely.
Buck turns the engagement ring around his finger, feeling the metal slide against his skin. Slowly. Thoughtfully. As if attempting to map the weight of the future pressing gently into his flesh. And somewhere in that quiet, it lands in him with a kind of startling inevitability: He does not want to marry Eddie as Evan.
The thought doesn't arrive like lightning. It arrives like the tide. Patient. Certain. Already in motion long before he ever noticed it coming in.
Because Evan hasn't ever really fit. Not fully.
Evan belongs to Pennsylvania winters and a too-big house filled with oppressive silence. To unremarkable report cards slid across kitchen counters without much interest. To trying and trying to become someone worth keeping around. Evan belongs to a person Buck barely knows how to be anymore. Evan has always been a name that felt slightly out of reach, even when it was his, like it belonged to someone standing a few steps behind him in a hallway he could never quite turn around fast enough to see. Evan was an identity forged in total emotional neglect, the name heavily burdened with a lack of validation.
Evan is hospital wristbands that itch against skin too sensitive for permanence. Evan is teachers berating him for having too much energy. Evan is the version of him that learned early how to make himself smaller so he would not take up too much space in rooms that already felt full without him. Evan belonged to a person standing a few steps behind him in a hallway, untethered and crying out.
The name Evan is like an old hand me down coat. Something acquired in childhood, the sleeves are way too short, the zipper is completely broken, the material is scratchy against the neck, and it fundamentally doesn't keep warm. But it kept getting worn purely out of habit, worn for so long that the assumption is this is what coats are meant to feel like, that they're supposed to feel uncomfortable in some sort of way.
But Buck—
Buck is the name Christopher shouted in glee across a crowded school parking lot the first time he spotted him after a hard day. Buck was Bobby's steady hand against the back of his neck after a difficult call. Buck is Hen laughing fondly under her breath after calling him an idiot. He's Maddie saying his name like relief. He's Theo's third best friend after Chris and Eddie—in that order. Buck is Ravi's eye roll and Harry's groan and sigh. He's Chimney ribbing him for no reason other than he can.
Buck is Eddie, half asleep and rough-voiced in the dark, murmuring sweetheart, c'mere. It's Eddie saying his name like it's something worth keeping.
That's who he is. That's the life he's made.
The dichotomy is incredibly stark. Evan is a given name, assigned without consent by two people who never really knew him or cared enough to try, and saturated with neglect. Buck is an earned name, a title built on the foundation of chosen family, community service, mutual respect, and profound love—all encompassing love; platonic, familial, and romantic.
Buck is the name actively populated with positive meaning, a custom tailored suit. It wasn't bought off the rack; it was meticulously hand stitched together by the people who love him. The people who see his value and don't think he takes up too much space.
[continue on ao3]
lmao i don’t remember posting half of anything on this account so every time i scroll on my account it’s like i’m seeing someone else’s
what a beautiful day to not be in high school
This is the like those “remember to be grateful you don’t have a sore throat right now” posts. It IS a beautiful day to not be in high school! Thank you!
Cake or Death [9-1-1 | Buddie | 1/1]
3.8K words | mature sexuality crisis | arguing and making up | developing relationship | feelings realization | idiots in love | relationship negotiation via passive aggressive cake
Cake or Death [on AO3]
Eddie's phone vibrates in his pocket as he's unlocking his front door. He doesn't check it right away, because there's an anxious pit in his stomach at the sound of his text notification and has been for the past week, even though Buck hasn't actually texted him since Wednesday. It's Friday now, his Kelly day, and he's stepping through his own front door at ten-fifteen in the morning with a bag of groceries in his hand and nothing planned while Chris is at school but to marinate the chicken he just bought and do a load of laundry and maybe take a nap and absolutely not agonize over the chain of unanswered texts sitting in his phone like a silent accusation.
He takes his shoes off, lines them up on the rack, sets the grocery bag down, locks the door behind him. His phone vibrates again. Eddie finally pulls it out of his pocket, reminding himself that people other than Buck text him and he can't just become a hermit until his next shift, tempting as it is. It could be one of the guys on his basketball team. It could be Hen, or Chim, or even Pepa, who prefers to call but has been known to text him screenshots of upbeat inspirational posts she finds on Facebook.
It's Buck, though. Of course it is. Eddie looks at the preview of the most recent message, which just says, enjoy :), and then sighs and opens up their text chain even though Buck will know he's seen it and not replied just like he has every message since the one he got at 8:13 last Thursday morning asking, hey, where'd u go?
(Continue reading on AO3)
