Fanworks creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fanworks you’ve made, then pass on to at least five other creators.
This prompt made me sad so it stayed in my inbox for a bit. But here are five favourite works of mine (not my most popular, mind you), but the pieces I really enjoyed and still love.
Let Me Count the Ways - BBC Merlin - Merthur - Getting Together
Protect You From Yourself - 9-1-1 - Buddie - Established
Family is More Than Blood - 9-1-1 - Buddie - Established
Love Me Well - 9-1-1 - Buddie - ...Soulmates Through the Years
It Had To Be You - 9-1-1 - Buddie - Getting Together
I see you write beautiful petopher fics. Good taste my friend. Do you have any recommendations for this amazing ship?
Oh man, this was actually a really difficult question, Anon. I actually didn’t have any pure Petopher rec’s that I haven’t written, but those are:
In Another Life (I would make you stay) | Explicit | 4.5k
Peter pointedly kept his eyes on the basketball game for a long time after that, sipping ineffective liquor and ignoring the scent of the man beside him, who had, long ago, on another planet, in another lifetime, been everything to him. The young man he’d been then, in Chris’ first apartment almost twenty years ago, had died in the fire with the rest of his family. The young man Chris had been then had died with his mother, when he’d fallen more firmly into Gerard’s clutches, married Victoria, and started a family like a good heir.
--
Or the one where Peter lost his virginity to Chris Argent, and a chance meeting in a bar sparks memories neither of them intended to think about.
Bury My Love (in the moondust) | Mature | 10.8k
Chris spent 10 years as a soldier in a war that he didn’t believe (had never believed) in. When the family he’s dedicated himself to threatens the one person he’s never managed to let go of he makes a decision that changes everything.—
Chris nodded. “I understand. I’m glad you’re all safe. I’m sorry” —he glanced at the floor— “that I didn’t stop it earlier. For Derek.”
Talia studied his face for a long moment. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Derek will recover faster from being used by your sister than he would from losing his entire family.” She paused a moment. Chris suspected she was collecting herself. “Laura speaks highly of you, and of course, you and my brother are...old friends. My family owes you everything.”
Old friends. That was certainly one term for what he and Peter were a decade ago. “I just did what was right.”
If you’re interested in Stetopher (+ Stiles), I have a few more recs!
The Deadfalls (TriDom) - Established Petopher with like a side of Steter.
There is a small magic shop buried within the foothills of the Deadfall Mountain Range. It's run by a man half Peter's age and he can hardly resist the allure.
Stars ‘Verse (Green) - ABO AU with Alpha!Peter, Alpha!Chris, and Omega!Stiles
Stiles needs to find an alpha ASAP. Actually, the doctors say he really needs two. Damn biology. Chris and Peter are two alphas in hopeless, doomed love with each other
Bigfoot Told Me You Were Coming (twothumbsandnostakeincanon) - Peter and Chris are on the run and they find Stiles.
Peter and Chris are on the run when they stumble across Stiles' home in the woods.
my sweet darling - how about an armed forces 911 AU? Maybe Eddie meets Navy Seal Buckley overseas? Maybe they meet back stateside at the VA?
You, my darling, always send me such fun and interesting prompts. I promise I didn’t forget.
Ooh, okay. Let’s see...
Prompt Me with AUs
Delta X-Ray (I am Sinking)
Read on Ao3
Eddie first sees him as he’s getting off the plane in Washington. He’s going to receive a medal. Apparently his work in Bagram made him a hero and not a broken, shell of a man. Who knew. And really, it’s just a glance because he has other things to worry about besides a Navy man getting dressed down by his captain. He doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to know that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s seen that look too many times, felt the hot breath of his superior as they spat harsh words meant to ‘toughen him up’.
As he passes the sailor, he hears something to the effect of “if it happens again, you will be dismissed.” And Eddie wonders how many times this particular man has received this exact lecture. It doesn’t really matter, anyways. He just wants to get his medal, shake a few hands of politicians who think they had anything to do with his ‘accomplishment’ and go home to his wife and child – ex-wife, he reminds himself. Shannon had the papers shipped to Afghanistan. Couldn’t get away fast enough, his mind bitterly supplied. All he would have at the end of the day was his son, and a medal to replace the wedding band he’d worn since he was 19.
Before he knows it, he’s standing on a small stage, a million lights flashing in his eyes as cameras and stage lights practically blind him. His shoulder aches – out of the sling for the afternoon so he can at least look more put together than he feels – and he’s dizzy from the attention. That’s his excuse for why he doesn’t recognize the man standing beside him.
“Seaman Petty Officer First Class Evan Buckley.” A blond man steps forward and Eddie catches himself staring at the dress whites and stone expression for longer than is strictly necessary. He seems a far cry from the officer being scolded less than an hour ago, but it is definitely him. And he was standing on stage beside Eddie, about to receive a medal of his own.
“For distinguishing oneself by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy of the United States, Petty Officer Buckley is awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal.”
As he watches the stripes being pined on the officer’s lapel, he lets himself wonder what crime the man could have committed to be dressed down and rewarded in the same afternoon.
He’s so curious, in fact, that he nearly misses his own name amongst the titles thrown around.
“Staff Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.” He steps forward, holding his breath until the entire ordeal is finally finished. “For gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States, Staff Sergeant Diaz is awarded the Silver Star.” The medal is heavier than he anticipated, but he supposes that makes sense. It is quite a burden he’ll be carrying around, and now he has a gold star to go with it – he wants to chuckle at the irony of his ‘Silver Star’ actually presenting as a golden one.
It seems everything about his life is a life.
There were a lot of reasons Eddie hated attending events like this: The politics, the bravado, the crowds of people ‘thanking him for his service’. Mostly, though: he never knows anyone. Sure, he can charm a senator or two for a few minutes, swap stories with other officers from other divisions about where they were and what they saw. But those are fleeting relationships, meant to get him through the day. He’ll go back to his hotel room at the end of the night with no more friends than when he’d stepped off the plane in this awful, awful town. Eddie is tired of ‘schmoozing’. With any luck, today will be the last time he has to tell the governor’s wife how lovely she looks in her dress.
That’s when he spots the man sitting at the edge of the bar like he’s trying to hide from the world, and he decides to make his way over.
“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, even as he sits down.
The other man’s eyes light with recognition – and damn, are they as blue as the sea. “Not at all. Diaz, right?”
“Eddie.” He supplies, raising a finger to the bartender to snag his attention. If he is going to make it to the end of the evening, he’s going to need one, good drink. “And you’re Buckley.”
“Actually, it’s Evan but you can call me ‘Buck’.” His amusement must be evident because his new drinking buddy supplies the answer. “There are a surprising amount of ‘Evan’s in the Navy.”
It had never occurred to him to check how many ‘Eddie’s were in his squadron. Maybe he should ask his CO if that’s why he always called him by his full first name.
“Congratulations, by the way.” Buck looks somewhat nervous even as the words leave his mouth. “On your medal. Good job.”
“Oh.” Is all Eddie can bring himself to say as he stares into the bottom of his glass. “Thanks.”
“You don’t look too happy about it.”
He really isn’t doing a good job of hiding his emotions if this relative stranger ca read him so easily. “No, I-” he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his thoughts and paste his best fake smile. “It is a great honour.”
“Bullshit.” Buck laughs in his face but for some reason, Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as hard as he expected. It almost feels playful. The rest of Buck’s response is cut off by his buzzing phone on the counter. The man quickly grabs it long enough to check his notifications, returning it to its place at the bar with a disappointed look.
“Are we keeping you from something?”
“Uh, no.” It’s Buck’s turn to look caught out and in need of recalibration. His expression changes much slower. “I’m just waiting for a call from my sister. I sent her an invitation to this thing but she never responded.”
Eddie has experience with family not coming to big social events like this one. Of course, in his case, he never invited them in the first place.
“Family ain’t easy.” He shrugs as he takes a long sip of whatever burning liquid he’d ordered – it really doesn’t matter so long as he can stay sitting here and not mingling with the crowds of vultures.
“It’s more than that.” Buck looks worried, and the way he bites his lip is… Eddie shouldn’t be focusing on that. “It’s just…” The man shakes his head, dismissing whatever feelings were eating at his gut. “I don’t want to bore you.”
“Please.” Eddie leans into his space with a playful smile. “It can’t be any more boring than this event. Please try to bore me to tears, if you dare.”
When Buck smiles, Eddie’s heart flutters out of his chest and sits beside him as they listen to Buck begin to speak. He tells Eddie about his sister, how she cared for him growing up, how she went away with her asshole of a boyfriend – now her deceased asshole of a husband – leaving him to fend for himself. He talks about travelling the country, trying every odd job he could get his hands on, until a buddy of his suggested he join the Navy. And he loves the work, he really does, but he hasn’t seen his sister in over a year. Their last conversation ended in a fight about some family secret that Buck is reluctant to talk about. Even Eddie can tell that the man just misses his sister. No matter what the argument was about.
Eddie finds himself talking – in less detail – about Shannon and the divorce and his son at home. At Buck’s prompting, he shows off his favourite photos of Christopher (avoiding the one burning a whole in his shirt pocket, torn and bloody, which never leaves him). The man’s face positively lights up when he sees the kid, offering an appropriate amount of sympathy for his divorce without pushing him for more emotions.
It’s easy talking to Buck, he realizes after a few hours. Because suddenly, the venue rental is nearly up and he’s still sitting at the corner of the bar, talking to Buck. Sure, a few people have passed by and shaken their hands, thanking them for their service – Eddie cringes every time and Buck has to hide his laughter once he realizes – but for the most part, it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking.
“The flag signalling we use now was established in 1855.” Buck explains as he leans further into Eddie’s space. “And while Robert Morse invented Morse Code in the 1830s, the International Morse Code that we use didn’t come out until the 1850s.”
“How do you know all of that?” Eddie was fairly certain he hadn’t had to study the history of communication when he was in training. But he’d also been very focused on his medical textbook.
Buck was incredibly cute when he blushed, Eddie decides – though he opts to keep that opinion to himself for now. “I get bored and I read.” The man shrugs nonchalantly, as though he hasn’t been entertaining Eddie with stories of Naval history and his own dumb-ass mistakes all evening. Honestly, Eddie wants to sit here all night and listen to Buck tell him stories of the world. It seems like he’s lived a lifetime already. And what has Eddie done? Gotten a girl pregnant, joined the army, gotten shot, and now he doesn’t even have a wife to go home to.
“Can I ask you something?” Eddie realizes too late that Buck looks nervous. He thinks he probably wouldn’t have said yes if he’d noticed. “How did you get your medal?”
Now he knows he doesn’t have to answer – and his initial instinct is to close out his tab and see if he can run to El Paso on his still-injured leg. But he also realizes that he hasn’t told anyone since it happened. Not the full story. Even now, he might not have the words. But he tries.
“Our helicopter got shot down while transporting wounded. I could still move so I got everyone out. Or I tried to get them out.” The echo of gunfire is not as distant as the others told him it would be. He can still smell it. “Support finally arrived and they decided to give me a medal for holding down the fort.”
Buck places a gentle hand over his and Eddie gasps, reminded that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched him. God, how he misses it.
“You saved wounded soldiers in the middle of the desert while being fired on. And you think you were just doing your job?”
“I’m an army medic.” He reasons with the bottom of his glass. “It’s my job to save people.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s why you do it.” Without elaborating, Buck smiles at him and Eddie forgets the question.
“What about you?” He asks instead. “What’s yours for?”
Unlike the enthusiastic, bubbly personality he’s been talking to for the last few hours, Buck melts into the face he saw up on that stage. The stoic, professional.
“We were on our way back from an escort mission when we encountered some rough seas. I happened to be on deck with the chief mate when he had a stroke. I tried to tend to him but the storm was getting worse and no one could find the captain, so I just took over navigation. It was rough, I had no idea what I was doing, but we all made it out safely and the chief mate was okay.” As Buck shrugs, memories of an overheard conversation come flooding back to Eddie’s mind.
“Wait, were you on the USS Angelo?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Eddie can’t believe it. He has to laugh. “You were the cadet who sailed out of Hurricane Ida?”
“I am a petty officer first class, I’ll have you know.”
“Buck, you navigated a 2,000 ton ship out of a hurricane and all they gave you was a lousy medal?”
“I should get that printed on a t-shirt, or something.”
“That was incredibly reckless but also incredibly brave. Buck, you’re a hero.”
“I was just doing my job.” The smirk tells Eddie he knows exactly what he’s doing but it still hits him that he’s throwing Eddie’s words back in his face. Cute and cheeky.
He doesn’t know why he asks – well, he does, but it’s incredibly stupid and impulsive, and he definitely can’t blame it on the alcohol but he sure would like to.
“How long are you in town?”
Buck looks pleasantly surprised by his question but answers with regret in his eyes. “I head out with the Fifth Fleet in the morning.”
Wow. “You just got a medal, and you’re headed out to earn another one?”
“Something like that.” Buck laughs and Eddie wishes he was braver than he felt. “But I won’t be gone forever. And I’m really good at telegraphy if you wanted to send anyone a message.”
He’s so grateful that Buck has the good sense to be everything he needs right now. Because asking the next question is easier with someone standing next to him. “I suppose I’ll need a way to get in touch with you, then.”
Buck winks and Eddie has never been gladder that the concept of ‘standing’ was only metaphorical. The man should not be so irresistible after only a few hours, but Eddie can’t help but watch him push off his barstool and walk around the side of the bar.
“Hey, Diaz!” The spell is broken long enough for him to look across the room at where his name is being called. He waves at old friends – well, Senior Airman Han and Space Force First Sergeant Wilson are the closest things he has to old friends but in actuality, he’s not sure he knows their first names. “We’re going to the afterparty, want to join?”
On a normal night, Eddie would decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather lay in bed and watch reruns of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Tonight, Eddie wants to decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather stay up all night talking to someone who makes me feel curious about the future.
“Not tonight.” He shouts back across the room. “I’ll catch you at the next ceremony.”
They wave him off because they know it’s the same excuse he makes every single time but the only thing that matters is getting back to Buck.
“So.” He turns to the bar only to find it empty. The seat beside him is also unoccupied, as is any of the space surrounding him.
Had he dreamed up Buck? Had he been imagining this person who made him feel like divorce wasn’t his last chance at happiness? Was he truly so desperate and lonely?
“Hey.” Eddie looks up with too much hope in his eyes to only come face-to-face with the bartender. “He left this for you.” The man – who is not Buck, no matter how much Eddie hopes to see those eyes again – slides a napkin across the counter and walks away before Eddie can ask anymore questions.
He picks up the napkin and reads the blue ink-stained note written in messy scrawl.
The dots and dashes he recognizes as a series of numbers – a phone number, he hopes – but the word above? He tries to recall his academy days.
Kilo. Short for Kilogram. Used in the International Code of Symbols to represent the letter ‘K’. In Maritime Signal Flags, it indicates: I wish to communicate with you.
He’s pretty sure the bartender hates him for how late he stayed and how loudly he laughed at Buck’s note, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he spends his energy memorizing the napkin’s contents long after he’s input the number. It’s more than just a piece of paper: it’s hope.
Tagged by @tawaifeddiediaz to answer this question:
What makes you (not your intended audience, but YOU) happy about your writing?
I put a lot of effort into writing realistic dialogue so when it rings true, I feel especially accomplished. I tend to act out my scenes or talk them out - apologies to my neighbours - to ensure that the lines flow naturally.
Sending you all my hugs 🥰🥰🥰😍 How about...Buddie having the time of their lives being absolute shit at arcade games.
I remember I asked for fluffy prompts the night my boss passed away. That was months ago but I did not forget. Thank you everyone who sent me prompts while I was processing some tough emotions.
911/Buddie
1v1 Co-op Matchmaking
Read on Ao3
“Are you sure this is the place?” Eddie tried to peer through one of the windows with the scratched off signage but the tinted glass made it impossible to see anything beyond vague shapes in evenly marked spaces.
“Absolutely.” Buck joined him in looking through the glass but seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there. “I found this place my first year in L.A.” He went on to explain as Eddie followed him to the blacked out double doors. “I promise you’re going to love it.”
As with most things in Eddie’s life, he had no choice but to follow his partner. He entered first, a blast of cool air hitting his face, bringing with it the scent of French fries and old pennies. Beyond the sound of whirs and buzzes was quiet chatter and the occasional exclamation of excitement or disappointment (usually accompanied by a string of barely recognizable curses – no doubt, due to the ‘No Swearing’ sign hanging on the cash register in the corner). All around him were a collection of game machines in nearly straight aisles reaching several rows down and across. Interspersed between the machines were tables and chairs with folded signs informing guests that food and drinks were not to be taken to the game machines.
“It’s an arcade.” Eddie dumbly informed his friend.
Buck stood beside him, chest puffed with pride as he examined the terrain. “One of the last in the city that hasn’t been overrun by hipsters.”
“So you’re saying you found this place before it was cool?” Eddie strolled towards the register knowing Buck would be glaring at him all the way. As predicted, Buck paid for both of them and converted twenty dollars into quarters for the two of them two split.
“Oh, this place is old school.” Eddie, once again, exclaimed the obvious while pocketing his share of the coins. “How did you find this place?” he asked as they wandered the aisles looking for their first game. “I didn’t think you would be old enough to remember ‘Ms. Pacman’.”
Buck bumped his shoulder with a playful gasp. “You are being so mean to me today.” He chided before falling more somber. “When I first moved here and started training, I needed a place to study. I had, like, six roommates so there was no way I could concentrate there. So, I wandered around looking for something a little less chaotic and I found this place.”
“And this place was quieter than your house?” Eddie hadn’t lived with roommates in a few years – not since his army days – but he couldn’t imagine one house being that overwhelming.
“No.” Buck rolled his eyes at Eddie’s internal monologue. “I ended up at the library a few blocks away. But I came here once or twice when I needed to get out of the house. Obviously, work keeps me pretty busy, but I like coming here from time to time.”
All of it made sense, but Eddie heard the softness in his friend’s tone, the way he spoke about this place as though it were something precious. He was being handed a gift and he would not turn it down.
“Thank you for sharing it with me.” When Buck looked up at his partner through long eyelashes (when did he start noticing Buck’s eyelashes?), Eddie felt goosebumps rise and wash down his body. Like awakening from a long nap, his limbs tingled and he felt every step as they continued their journey to find the perfect game.
It wasn’t the first time he felt that flash of lightning through his veins at the sight of his friend – he was a single man and his partner was very attractive – but it had been happening more often than he cared to admit. Noticing the little details of Buck’s appearance (his eyelashes, for example) was new. Feeling his heart beat faster and his skin burn with a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time…was less new. In fact, Eddie was nearly ready to put a label on the feelings stirring in his chest.
Last winter, when his sisters were visiting and the three siblings got to have a big family dinner with all the cousins and aunts and uncles, he’d spent a little too long talking about Buck. Or, maybe, Christopher had. Either way, Sophia managed to corner him in the kitchen after dessert had knocked out the majority of the children, and asked Eddie how long he’d been with Buck. Romantically. It was sometime after midnight (and a bottle of wine between the three of them) that Eddie finally admitted to both of his sisters that he had feelings for his best friend. Adriana had cooed and asked if Buck felt the same and, on some tipsy instinct, he’d answered “Yes.”
Of course, he didn’t know for certain – he’d never come out and said “Hey, Buck, I want to bend you over the railing and then grow old with you. What do you say?” – but he knew Buck. He knew Buck better than anyone (Maddie might give him a run for his money, but he’s fairly certain there’s a few stories Buck hasn’t told his sister about his time travelling the country). When that man loved, he loved with all his heart, and Eddie figured out a long time ago that Buck had given at least part of himself to the Diaz boys. Why not his heart?
So, yes, Eddie had a pretty good idea of how he felt, and was nearly certain that Buck felt the same way. And now, they were standing in an arcade – the location of which Buck hadn’t shared with anyone else in his life – occasionally making extended eye contact through the aisles. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’. It was a matter of ‘when’.
So now, when not staring longingly into his friend’s eyes, Eddie scanned the names listed above each game. Some of the names were ones he recognized (‘Frogger’, ‘Pacman’, the aforementioned ‘Ms. Pacman’, ‘Centipede’). Others, were less familiar (‘Inferno’, ‘Dig Dug’, ‘1942’) and looked…confusing. His eye caught on a ‘Space Invaders’-looking game and he called his partner to his side.
“Want to be a member of the ‘Moon Patrol’?” He bumped Buck’s shoulder with the smile he reserved just for his friend, and dug for a quarter.
“Nope!” Buck declared as he retrieved his own quarter and inserted it into the appropriate slot, bumping Eddie out of the way so he could stand centered at the controls. “I call first game!”
Though he rolled his eyes in annoyance, Eddie took the loss as an opportunity to watch his partner work. He loved watching Buck work (nearly as much as he enjoyed working beside him). There were times when the man’s focus was hypnotizing. The firm set of his jaw, the piercing eyes that seemed unblinking, the way every part of his body tensed in concentration. He’d seen Buck excited, anxious, worried, panicked, even numb – when it came to the uncontrollable dangers of their job, they had been through a lot together. Every emotion showed Eddie how much his friend cared about his work.
This expression, however, was one he doubted many other members of the Los Angeles Fire Department had seen on the young firefighter. It was one Eddie had been privy to on more than one occasion when Christopher had brought over a particularly difficult puzzle or science question. He wasn’t sure he was ever meant to see it but he happened to be standing in the doorway after putting away leftovers from dinner and he’d seen it: the desire to win, the earnest focus, the eagerness and seriousness of his intent. The first time he saw, it was an accident. Every other time he rushed to finish his chores whenever he thought that face might emerge… that was less of an accident.
He was pulled from his fond musings by a minor key jingle and light-hearted groan of disappointment.
“Only got to Point Q on the Champion Course.” Buck exclaimed, throwing his hands in defeat.
Eddie couldn’t help himself – or at least, that’s what he told himself. His partner was too genuine. But that was one of his favourite things about the man. Where Eddie could usually keep his outward appearance neutral in the face of adversity (a skill he’d used nearly every day since joining the LAFD), Buck never shied away from letting his face show just exactly what was on his mind – even if he never said anything.
And so, Eddie laughed. Only a small chuckle, but his heart never felt so light as when he was with Buck. It was easy to see, however, that his laugh could be misconstrued as mocking. Perhaps it was both.
“Think you can do better?” The newly-defeated champion bowed and offered the center position to his friend and Eddie stepped into place with another fond eyeroll (he made a mental note to ask his optometrist if too many eyerolls could cause nerve damage).
All right, Eddie thought as he tried to get a handle on the controls, so it wasn’t as easy as he thought. The joystick was rigid and the control pad was sticky and the graphics were definitely from an era long-passed. If he hadn’t been raised with an infinite amount of patience (according to his aunt), he might have given up. As it was, he died before reaching the first checkpoint.
Buck’s laughter could not be interpreted as anything other than mocking, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “You are truly terrible.” He informed Eddie with a slap on the shoulder.
Though he knew he didn’t need an excuse, it was too easy to play when Buck was around. “I’m used to the console at home. Unlike some people, I don’t spend my time playing with technology from the Reagan-era.”
“Well then let me show you.” Before Eddie could properly interpret Buck’s offer, the man had come to stand behind him, chin hovering over his shoulder, arms palming his elbows and guiding him back towards the console. “One more round.” Buck declared, enthusiastically. At his prompting, Eddie gripped the joystick and placed his hands just above the cluster of buttons on his left side. The now-familiar starting music began and Eddie focused all of his energy into game before him. Every few moments, he heard Buck mutter a command or offer advice and he took it without question. The joystick was still rigid and the buttons were still sticky but together, they made it to the second checkpoint. And then the third. By the fourth, Eddie had all but forgotten the world around them. The only things that existed were Eddie, the game, and Buck’s voice in his ear. It was soothing, almost, to fall into that rhythm. So long as he navigated the bumpy terrain and dodged the alien invasion, nothing else mattered.
Until he missed jumping over a landmine and was blown to smithereens.
“Damn!” Buck’s voice was suddenly too close. The air around him electrified on an exhale and the heat of his chest warmed Eddie to his core. As quickly as the world had fallen away in Buck’s arms, it came rushing back, more vibrant and alive than before. Every sound of electronics whirring, Buck’s steady breathing, and people shouting – even the rumble of the cars outside the arcade – was amplified. Every smell of old metal, sweat, and smoke hidden under Buck’s aftershave was overwhelming. Every touch of his scratchy jeans, the clammy plastic in his hand, and the warm presence at his back, made Eddie close his eyes to shut out one of his senses. The only one left was taste.
Buck and Eddie had held each other plenty of times over the years. They were partners and friends who worked in close contact with one another. At the end of a hard day, in the middle of a daring rescue, at the beginning of a heated glance as they stood in front of a game machine. They had shaken hands, hugged tightly, gripped for dear life at the edge of a cliff, even bumped shoulders often enough that he had a Buck-shaped indent near his heart. But standing in this loose hold – the other man’s arms barely brushing his, his back pressed against the other’s front – Eddie had never felt the overwhelming urge to taste more fervently than he did in that moment.
He knew that Buck was an attractive man – he was repressed, he wasn’t dead – and though he’d been contemplating thinking about maybe working up to taking some next step, he hadn’t counted on standing in Buck’s arms and feeling his heart flutter like a school girl with a crush.
Upon slowly dragging his eyes to meet his friend’s Eddie found himself breathlessly overtaken by the sensation of hope. Buck’s eyes were bright and round (earnest, just as he’d known them to be) His eyelashes closed and opened slowly, seemingly disbelieving of his circumstance. If Eddie knew Buck as well as he hoped he did, then there was a question in his friend’s eyes that was begging to be asked. A question Eddie was more than happy to answer.
“We make a pretty good team.” He felt his own breath reverberate off of Buck’s cheek and it stuttered in time with his heart.
“I’ve always thought so.” Buck’s lips twitched with suppressing a smile.
Then, came the moment of truth. Eddie felt a brief flicker of panic as he took one last breath before diving in.
“What should we do about it?”
In reality, Buck only contemplated his response for a few seconds but for Eddie, the silence stretched for years – three years, in fact. He felt the world move in slow motion and within it, he watched as Buck’s face flicked with a thousand emotions: fear, anxiety, excitement, contentment, desire, hope, doubt; finally, he settled on quiet happiness.
“I think we need to find a game we can play together. As partners. What do you say?”
As if there were any other response, Eddie smiled at Buck. “Partners.”
The rest of their time at the arcade was locked away, inaccessible to even Eddie, who recalled nothing more than laughter and flirtatious eye contact as they made their way through the aisles of games. At the end of the night, Eddie would get down the block before turning back to Buck’s door. He would run a nervous hand through his hair while he knocked with the other, and waited for the answer. And then, he would blush as he asked if Buck wanted to go on a date with him tomorrow. Buck would blush harder and assure Eddie that he would happily attend, but warn that he no longer kissed on the first date.
But maybe on their second date tomorrow, he’d get lucky.
Hey! I've never written a prompt before, so I don't really know what I should be suggesting, but could you do your otp having a really heartbreaking moment where they realize The Dealbreaker and they have to decide if it really is one? or if you're feeling something a bit more lighthearted, could you have one have to carry the other home (injured, drunk, or other reason) that's just kinda cute fluff?
So first I just want to say that I really appreciate this prompt. I did a call out back in November asking for writing prompts because a colleague had passed away and I needed a distraction. I got a few prompts form mutuals which is always lovely to see but I want to say thank you for reaching out even though we might not be blogs that interact all the time. You saw someone in need and you just offered to help in some small way. So yeah, I really appreciate it.
Also, of course, I feel I should apologize because you sent me this prompt in November and it is now the end of June but I'm just glad I found some time and inspiration to fill this prompt.
This is also a little angstier than I think I initially intended but I promise there is a hopeful ending because I don’t do sad endings.
Enjoy!
More Than Strong Enough to Take You With Me
9-1-1/Buddie
Read on Ao3
Some distant memory of crowded bars with sticky floors and exchanging sob stories for loud songs struck Eddie with the realization that he never expected to be in a place like this ever again. He thought his days of coming to pick up his drunken friends at whatever dive they’d found themselves in had ended the night he left El Paso. In fact, he recalls making a vow that he wouldn’t surround himself with people who drank their sorrows and caused a scene. Like so many things in his life, Evan Buckley was the exception to the rule.
“Eddie!” He spotted the man near the end of the bar, tossing one hand in what might have been a wave at some point. “You made it.”
Even through his annoyance, he couldn’t help but smile fondly at his friend’s excitement. “Hey, Buck.”
The woman behind the bar, however – a broad shouldered woman with curly hair and the patience of a broken alarm clock – was less enthused by Eddie’s entrance.
“Hey! You were supposed to call an Uber, not invite your buddy for another round.”
The former medic raised his hand in an attempt to sooth the situation. “I am his Uber. Has he closed out?”
“Yeah.” The woman waved her rag at him dismissively. “Take your boyfriend and get out of here.”
Eddie kept his face neutral, hoping – praying – Buck hadn’t heard her comment, but the gods of bad ideas were pressing heavily on the other man’s shoulders.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” He spat, even as he allowed Eddie to manhandle him to a standing position. Buck was steady enough on his feet that he could shuffle to the door but with his entire weight pressed against Eddie, it felt more like dragging a sack of potatoes across a tacky floor.
It was already just after midnight but if the journey from the door to the truck were any indication, tonight would be long. Every step had the consistency of wet sand, dragging Eddie’s companion further down and with it, his heart and patience. No matter his sympathy, no matter his fondness or loyalty for the man at his side: Buck was heavy. He was also moments away from passing out and the fact that he hadn’t said a word since they’d left the bar was more than a little concerning. He knew Buck had the capacity for long silence (for contemplation, depression, punishment, and so on) but there were a lot of things left unsaid between them. Eddie knew better than to bring them up while he was reaching over his friend to secure the seatbelt he was incapable of tightening himself. Buck should have been biting his ear off with all the things on his mind and yet, he remained silent.
He was quiet as the engine roared to life, as they drove through the streets of Los Angeles – the radio tuned to an audibly low country station and the streetlights illuminating the cabin like the mid-day sun. When they pulled up to an open spot across the street from Buck’s apartment complex, Eddie glanced over at his friend and barely withheld his sigh. Buck’s head was hung low, fairly floating above his chest as though he might fall into it at any moment. His eyes were half-open, slowly blinking. The rising of his chest was steady but faster than his medic-minded musings would like.
If he was being honest, he was surprised that Buck had called him. There was never any doubt that he would come to his friend’s aid – and Buck had to know that – and while he was relieved to know the trust between them was still intact, he found himself nonetheless surprised. After years of therapy and reassurances, he still needed to be reminded that sometimes, one argument (a hundred arguments) wouldn’t be enough to break a bond.
His first priority, however, was not to forgive or to ask for forgiveness. It was to make sure Buck was safe. However, that would involve exiting the vehicle and manhandling his friend into his apartment while enduring a silent treatment that could rival his son’s. It was worse now, as they stood in the elevator and Buck clung to the fabric at his back, when there was no more ambiance from the outside world to mask the thoughts in his head. Climbing up the stairs to the loft bedroom was no easier, hefting the man against his shoulder as they took each step together. Still: Buck said nothing.
Like the good friend he reassured himself he was, Eddie sat him on the edge of the bed, bracing his shoulders to carefully hold him upright before diving down to untie his shoes. Buck let himself be guided back onto the bed, shuffling when requested but moving no further. The frown that had been drawn on his face during the journey home had deepened into a scowl and Eddie struggled to hide his own developing grimace. His hands worked clinically to keep from shaking as he removed his friend’s pants but kept his socks on – because Buck likes to sleep with them on, his mind supplied information he hadn’t known he’d retained after all their years together. And still: Buck said nothing.
Eddie carefully pulled the duvet cover up to his waist, tucking the corners around his chest out of fatherly habit and resisted the urge to kiss his forehead for the same reason.
“Why am I not enough?” Buck’s voice was harsh and quiet from spending so long in silence but Eddie heard him nonetheless.
It was a question he sensed was coming and yet it cracked his heart as easily as though it were the first shot to begin the battle. Despite the wound, he knelt beside the bed to reach his friend’s eyelevel.
“Buck, you are more than enough, I promise.”
The firefighter slowly turned his head and the sorrow in his eyes shattered Eddie’s heart completely.
“Nothing I do is enough for anyone to stay – I’m not enough for anyone to stay.”
He clenched his fist to keep from reaching out and brushing a hand over his friend’s face. He looked so much like the scared and hopeful boy he’d heard about from Buck’s retelling of his childhood. The kid who just wanted someone to reassure him that he was loved and wanted now that his big sister was gone. He looked so young. But Buck wasn’t that kid anymore. He was grownup, now, and he was loved by so many and so much. Eddie knew all too well the demons that were making their false accusations in his friend’s head.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Buck. Because it’s not true.”
The firefighter shook his head, hair falling across his eyes as he burrowed deeper into his pillow. “Maddie left, and Abby left, and Ali, and Taylor, and now…” his voice fell away with a crack but Eddie knew who he meant. It was the reason he was in this position in the first place – for the most part, at least. Maybe Buck would remember his sadness in the daylight and maybe he would purge it with the morning tide, but right now, all Eddie knew was that his friend was hurting.
“Maddie came back, remember? She didn’t mean to leave and she came back. Your girlfriends, they left, but that’s a reflection on them not you.” Leaning against his elbows on the edge of the bed was as close as Eddie would let himself come. Any closer, and he might give in to the temptation that would only make their situation worse. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“I wasn’t enough for you.”
Knowing the words were coming and feeling each syllable pierce his well-crafted armor, were two very different sensations. In one, he could pretend that logic and reason were constant companions and that his answer could soothe their hearts. In this, his fingernails dug into the bedsheet, willing himself to remain stoic in the face of heartbreak.
“Of course, you’re enough for me.”
“Then why did you push me away when I tried to kiss you?”
It was a question his heart had been asking him for months. It punished his lack of answer by replaying that night over and over again. Sitting on the couch, drinking water because tomorrow would be a long day and neither could afford a hangover. At times, they sat in silence, at times Eddie spoke of nothing and everything in an effort to keep them both distracted. At times, he simply listened as Buck spoke of things that tore him apart. And then he’d leaned forward. And then Eddie had placed a gentle hand on his chest. And then Buck had gone to bed.
“Buck, your dad had just died, we were getting ready for his funeral.” The look of embarrassment and hurt on his partner’s face had been etched into his ribcage, the wounding stinging with every heartbeat. Despite his own heart’s protests, Eddie didn’t regret his actions, merely regretted the outcome. Days of uncomfortable silence, wayward eyes, and half-smiles were endurable so long as Buck knew the truth – which, apparently, he didn’t.
“When we do this, it won’t be because one of us is emotionally vulnerable, or hurting, or drunk. It will be because we’re on the same page about what we want and we’re both ready.”
For a moment, there was more silence as Buck processed Eddie’s words for what they were. It was a privilege to look into this man’s eyes and see the flicker of hope reignite in the midst of so much darkness.
“When?”
Eddie exhaled with a small smile, glad for the knowledge that Buck, through his drunk and exhausted mind, had truly heard him. In a moment of weakness, he surrendered to the urge to swipe his finger through a wayward strand of blond hair.
“Yeah, when.”
As though he’d spoken some magic spell over the man, Eddie watched Buck’s eyes as they fluttered and closed. His breath slowly steadied and evened out, and his heart seemed to settle. Still, Eddie stayed leaning against the edge of the bed, a fond smile growing on his face. He’d meant what he said – whether Buck remembered or acknowledged any of this in the morning remained to be seen, but he meant it nonetheless. What he felt for Buck, what he wanted for a relationship with him, scared the crap out of him and yet, the anticipation that bubbled in his chest was one of excitement rather than terror.
When.
It could be that Buck would wake up tomorrow and decide they were both ready to move forward together (though that was highly unlikely given the amount of alcohol he’d consumed). It could be they would never be on the same page and would continue to dance around one another for another twenty years as partners (he also doubted he would have to wait that long). He would wait, though. If Buck was it for him, then he’d wait fifty years. The smile on the other man’s face as he drifted off told him he felt the same.
However, some time in the next fifty years, Buck would awaken with a massive hangover and more than a little embarrassment about his actions. His partner’s comfort and safety was, as always, at the forefront of his thoughts. So, he quietly jogged downstairs and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and searched the upstairs bathroom for the bottle of ibuprofen he knew was always stashed in the cupboard, and laid both on the bedside table.
For just a moment, Eddie indulged in watching Buck sleep, content to listen to the sounds of the world dampened by the noise of his friend’s snores. He remembered a time when Christopher had complained about Buck’s snoring from the couch and Buck had insisted that he hadn’t been that bad. He couldn’t wait to inform them of his own opinion and crown a victor in the eternal debate.
“Eddie?” He should have expected that the peace of the moment would be enough to pull Buck from his slumber. One thing he’d learned from a very early time in their friendship: Buck could find Eddie in a crowded room. How could he not sense him when he was so close?
“Yeah, Buck?”
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
As the man finally settled into slumber, Eddie smiled fondly and whispered: “Always.”
The pressure to not copy all of the great Flowershop AUs that came before... (also you can send me 1 million prompts if you want ❤)
Buck and Eddie opened up flower shops for slightly different reasons - for one: it was something stable and quiet so he could spend his nights being reckless, and for the other: it was a creative outlet that helped to keep the voices at bay. It was the strangest twist of fate that had them opening their shops across the street from one another, a slightly one-sided rivalry struck between them. It was a little boy with a bouquet of thank you flowers for the man who saved his life that finally brought them together.
Send me a pairing and an AU and I'll write a 3-sentence fic!
I had two ideas for this. One is unbearably fluffy and the other is much more realistic so take your pick.
Unbearably Fluffy
(I want you to picture a Pixar animated short while you read this)
We live in a world where everyone communicates through dance. Some people tango, some people step, some people do the "chicken dance" but every person in the entire world has a perfect dance partner. There's no one way to find them, of course, you just have to keep dancing until you find the right fit.
Buck, with his gangly limbs and distinctive birthmark, has always stood out for all the wrong reasons. He's tall and he's broad and everybody wants to dance with him but as soon as he starts to groove, they realize he's not actually very good at dancing and they leave. But still, he keeps trying even though he stopped believing he'd find his dance partner a long time ago.
Eddie, on the other hand, is an amazing dancer. He knows every step to every routine and if someone wants to dance, he's more than happy to take them around the floor. But he knows that they won't quite work. He's too rigid and too controlling - always taking the lead. For him, if he never shows his favourite dance steps, he won't have to risk disappointment. You can't lose what you aren't willing to give away.
One day, the two meet and it is an absolute disaster. Buck steps on Eddie's toes and Eddie almost pulls Buck off his feet the way they're spinning so quickly. But then they part - just for a second - and take a moment to breathe.
And then, cautiously, Eddie offers his hand, and Buck takes it.
Though their movements are slow, they begin to fall into sync. Eddie discovers that Buck isn't uncoordinated, he's simply dancing to his own tune (with his ability to pick up dance steps, he finds the pattern easily). And Buck discovers that Eddie isn't too rigid: he's a frame around which everything can be built (and it's absolutely worth it to see him finally let go).
Together, they find a rhythm that is all their own. Others sometimes stare as they Waltz to the Rumba tune, but to them, it makes perfect sense.
*********************
Much More Realistic
The first touch from your soulmate is quite literally electric. It sends a spark through your fingertips like a signal to your brain telling you to smile.
When Eddie was working for his dad's contracting company, he went to a conference in Miami and allowed himself one night of freedom. He drank, he partied, he went dancing, and in the middle of the dance floor, he felt a spark. When he turned around, he saw the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen - and not just because they were the eyes of his soulmate. But things were never quite right with Shannon. That spark he'd felt seemed to fade with time and he was too afraid to ask his friends if that was normal. So he did his best to plaster on the smile that was meant to come naturally.
Buck couldn't even muster up the courage to smile. His heart was irrevocably broken. After all, he'd found his soulmate, and then lost them, just by being him. That was his punishment for living his life like every moment was his last - the one moment he needed to last forever was gone in an instant. He'd been in Miami, trying the animal rescue thing, when he'd gone to the club to blow off some steam. One jolt on the dance floor and he swore his heart had stopped beating. But when he'd turned around, no one was looking his way with the same smile. The only conclusion was that his soulmate had seen him and run away.
Who needed a soulmate anyways?
Eddie could not believe the man standing before him. No training, no fears, and yet he'd jumped into the back of an ambulance to help pull a live grenade out of a man's leg. Evan Buckley was either the bravest or stupidest man he'd ever met in his entire life. A man like that deserved one more chance - even if he had been giving him the cold shoulder all day.
"You can have my back any day."
"Or, you know, you can have mine."
"Deal."
It must have just been the friction. Static electricity and all that. But the smile on Buck's face told him it wasn't.
