bendingreality

[bendingreality]

Fic Updates!

As much as I absolutely adore summer, I can't wait for the chaos to end, and I can go back to writing and updating on a daily basis! Between work commitments, family, and friends, the longest I've been able to rest was when I was in the hospital. 😅

Luckily, I had already written or drafted out a large portion of each of my multichapter WIPs, so no matter how hectic things get, I won’t run out of updates for those any time soon. 😌

As for posting, in the next two days, I'll be adding on AO3:

Chapter 57 of "Through the Fire"

Chapter 38 of "Rising from the Rubble"

Chapter 8 of "Firehouse Fairytales"

Chapter 14 of "Curious Minds"

Chapter 3 of "A Secret Garden Grows"

Still Untitled "Truth or Dare" fic for a bucktommysummerfest (and on here)

"Tipsy Smiles and Tempting Kisses" (which is posted here but not on AO3 yet 😅)

See you all tomorrow with the updates!

🩷💙

[bendingreality]

Last line tag game: post the last line of your WIPs 😁 tagged by @sugarpenchant a couple of days ago

These are going to be from BuckTommy pieces I've worked on in the last few days. Some are from unposted chapters of my ongoing WIPs, some are from drafts of oneshots. Not a single piece is actually finalized.

No titles, no hints at what they're from 😅

“Aw, come on,” Buck says, finally climbing out of Tommy’s lap and grabbing a shirt with zero urgency, “it’s not that bad. It's not like I was asking him to spank me.”

“No, no, no—” Buck gasps, heart racing, vision blurring as he stumbles back to the bedroom. His hands shake as he grabs his phone. Dials three numbers with trembling fingers.

Tommy’s ears turn bright red, but he continues filling in the paperwork before him.

“You’re fine,” Buck says cheerfully. “Tommy said we can’t have sex inside the firehouse anymore.”

“Stay with me, Evan,” he whispers. The name feels foreign on his tongue—like saying it will make it real. Like saying it will save him.

3 are from ongoing WIPs, 1 is from a completely unplanned sequel to a supposed oneshot, and 1 is from the first scene of a new 5+1 fic 😂

[bendingreality]

Fic: Tipsy Smiles and Tempting Kisses

Here is my newest fic for week three of @bucktommysummerfest

Prompt: Different First Kiss 

Rating: T bordering on M (drunken flirting, heated kissing, nothing explicit) 

Summary: Buck doesn’t expect to end the night pinned to the side of his Jeep in a bar parking lot by a hot male sorta stranger with kind eyes, a crooked grin, and a pilot’s license. But after a few too many drinks, a little flirting, and a lot of chemistry, things with the firefighter he replaced take a turn for the reckless—and Buck’s not complaining. 

Author's note: The first draft was 500 words.....the final draft ended up being a little under 2000? 😅I'll be posting this in the next few days on AO3 as well.

Buck’s been with the 118 for a little over two weeks, just long enough for Hen to start calling him “Buckaroo” and Chim to shove a cup of coffee in his hand every morning with a side-eye like he’s waiting for him to mess up. Bobby hasn’t yelled at him too much, but Buck’s been careful. He knows how to read people enough to know when he’s toeing the line. 

So when Hen says, “You’re coming out with us tonight, Buckaroo,” it’s not a suggestion. Then Chim adds, “First rounds on you, probie. Oh, Tommy might swing by too.” and Buck knows there is no way out. 

The bar they end up going to is loud with sticky floors, blue lights, and a jukebox caught in an endless cycle of ‘90s throwbacks. Buck downs his first whiskey sour way too fast and then another, chasing the burn with laughter at Chim’s ridiculous stories and trying to get Hen to admit she is the one who had put the picture of the golden retriever on his locker door. 

It takes Buck a few seconds to notice the guy who’s walked up to their booth. Tall. Muscular. Tanned. Aviators tucked into the collar of his henley even though it’s 10 PM. Chim jumps up and claps him on the back. 

“Tommy, this is Buck, the new golden retriever Bobby picked up from the academy to attempt to fill your place.” 

“I’m not a dog,” Buck mutters, but Tommy’s already laughing. It’s a warm sound that settles in Buck’s chest like it belongs somewhere soft and warm, not here with the cold stale beer and harsh neon. 

Tommy slides in next to him. 

Buck takes a sip of his drink and glances sideways. Tommy’s close enough that Buck can smell the faint trace of cologne and something like engine oil, like he’d just stepped of a helicopter. There’s something easy about the way he slides into the booth, like he belongs right here next to Buck. 

“So, Tommy, Chim said you fly?” Buck asks, trying to sound casual. 

Tommy nods. “Medevac pilot. Mostly trauma runs.” 

“Sounds intense.” 

“It can be. But you get used to the chaos.” His eyes flick to Buck’s. “You probably know how that goes, kid.” 

Buck huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah. Two weeks at the 118 and I’ve already seen a guy try to deep-fry his own hand.” 

Tommy winces. “Yikes.” 

“It smelled worse than you’re probably imagining,” Buck says, and Tommy chuckles, low and real. 

There’s a beat of quiet, just long enough for Buck to become hyper aware of how Tommy’s knee is brushing against his own beneath the table, how he hasn’t moved away. 

“You settling in okay?” Tommy asks. 

“I think so,” Buck says. “Still figuring everyone out. But Bobby hasn’t tried to kill me yet, so that’s something.” 

Tommy’s smile softens. “He’ll warm up, especially since Hen seems to like you. She’s got a good radar for people.” 

“She insisted on dropping me off the other day when my Jeep was at the mechanic,” Buck says. “Claimed it was environmental responsibility, but I think she just didn’t trust me not to wander into traffic.” 

“From what I’ve heard so far, she’s probably right,” Tommy says, eyes dancing. 

Buck laughs and shakes his head. He doesn’t notice how close he’s leaning until he catches himself moving even closer. There’s something about the way Tommy listens—like he’s paying attention, like it matters. Like he matters. 

As his third drink is replaced with a fourth by Tommy, Buck learns more about flying medevac choppers for LAFD, which is “as cool as it sounds” and “also not the Top Gun fantasy you're picturing, kid.” Tommy calls him kid again, and Buck rolls his eyes hard enough it almost hides the blush. 

By drink five, Buck is leaning into Tommy’s space even more and talking about traveling through the Caribbean by seaplane.  

By drink six, Buck is feeling loose in his skin, talking fast and smiling too wide. He leans against Tommy’s side without meaning to, slurring a little as he complains about LA traffic like it personally insulted him. 

“You’re not even from here, kid,” Tommy says, amused. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t hate it,” Buck replies, chin tilted, smile lopsided. 

Tommy tips his beer bottle toward Buck’s chest. “You’ve got a little something right—” His thumb brushes near Buck’s collarbone, a soft suggestion Buck can feel through his shirt. “Nope, false alarm.” 

Buck blinks. His heart skips for no real reason. Or maybe for a lot of little ones that he never even considered within the realm of possibilities. 

“You always this friendly?” he asks, not quite meeting Tommy’s gaze. 

Tommy shrugs. “I like people who don’t take themselves too seriously.” 

“Well, good news for me,” Buck says, voice quiet now. “I wouldn’t know serious if it bit me in the ass.” 

There’s a silence thick with something unspoken. Tommy’s eyes drop briefly to Buck’s mouth and then back up. 

Buck stares at him. Tommy stares back. For a second, the bar noise fades under the sudden heat rising between them. 

Eventually, Tommy says, “Come on, kid. You need air.” 

Hen raises an eyebrow from across the table. 

The parking lot is half-lit, half-abandoned. Buck stumbles out with a dramatic sigh and spins in a circle, arms out. 

“This is great. This is perfect. Best idea ever.” 

“You’re pretty drunk,” Tommy says. 

“You’re pretty hot,” Buck counters. 

Tommy snorts. “Jesus, kid, you are definitely drunk.” 

“I’m barely buzzed and I mean it,” Buck says, stepping close. “You have this whole thing going on.” He waves his hand at Tommy. 

“What thing?” 

“Cocky, hot badass firefighting helicopter pilot thing.” 

“I think that’s just me.” 

“Exactly,” Buck says, grinning.  

There’s a silence. Thick with possibility. Tommy’s eyes drop to Buck’s mouth. Buck sways forward, just a little. 

“You gonna kiss me or what?” Buck asks, bold as hell, grinning. He wobbles a little and steadies himself on the side of a car.  

Tommy doesn’t answer. 

He just pushes Buck back gently until Buck’s spine hits cold metal — his own Jeep he realizes — and then leans in. Slow. Intentional. Just enough pressure to make Buck’s heart leap. 

It’s careful at first. Thoughtful. Teasing. Curious. Like Tommy’s making sure Buck won’t regret this when he sobers up. Buck leans in, breath catching, and kisses back, sweet and slow and sincere and just a little unsteady. Like maybe he’s not as sober as he thought, or maybe Tommy’s intoxicating him more than the whiskey did. 

Then Buck makes a soft sound in the back of his throat—needy, surprised—and that’s all it takes. Tommy slides a hand into his hair and kisses him harder, tilting his head, taking control like he’s done this a thousand times in a thousand cities with a thousand drunk idiots. 

But this feels different. Like maybe Buck’s not just a hookup. Like maybe they’re starting something stupid. 

Eventually, When Tommy finally pulls back, they’re both breathing a little harder. 

“You’re trouble,” he mutters against Buck’s jaw. 

“Actually, I’m Evan,” Buck whispers, pulling him back in. 

Tommy huffs a laugh, then kisses him again. This time it’s firmer. More certain. One hand finds Buck’s waist, the other brushes his jaw. Buck makes a quiet, helpless sound, half-laugh, half-sigh, and pulls Tommy in by the shirt. 

They kiss like the moment deserves it—like there’s something weighty in the air, something unspoken they’re trying to put off with warmth and lips and breath. 

They make out like teenagers in the dark, pressed up against the truck. Tommy’s hands slide beneath Buck’s shirt, fingertips skimming warm skin. Buck hooks a leg around Tommy’s hip like he’s trying to climb him. 

Tommy groans. “This is a terrible idea.” 

“You’re still kissing me.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy breathes, “that’s the problem. We should stop.” 

Buck leans his head against the truck, eyes closed, lips parted. “Yeah. Probably.” 

“You’re probably not gonna remember this.” 

“Think I will,” Buck says quietly. 

Tommy brushes his fingers across Buck’s cheek.  

Hen and Chim eventually stumble out, mid-conversation about something Chim insists was a very controlled explosion and Hen swears almost killed them both. Buck and Tommy are still leaning near the truck, tangled up together, like they’ve just barely stepped far enough back to try to pretend nothing happened—except their kiss-stung smiles give them away. 

Tommy looks back to Buck. “I think your handlers are here.” 

Buck huffs a laugh. “I thought they were your friends.” 

“They are,” Tommy says, smirking. “But they seem very invested in your well-being.” 

“Well, I am charming,” Buck says. “And they’ve known me a whole... what, sixteen days?” 

Tommy chuckles, low and warm. “Hen said that you’re an adorable menace. Chim said you'd probably climb into a dryer if dared.” 

“They’re not wrong,” Buck says, grinning. “But hey, you still kissed me.” 

Tommy leans in a little closer, his voice quieter now. “That might’ve been poor judgment.” 

“Regret it?” Buck asks, casual on the outside, but his eyes are searching. 

Tommy shakes his head. “Not even a little.” 

Hen lifts an eyebrow as she approaches, catching the tail end of whatever that was. “You two good over here?” 

Buck opens his mouth, but Tommy beats him to it. “Evan’s trying to convince me he’s not actually trouble.” 

“That’s adorable,” Hen deadpans. 

Chim raises his water bottle. “To hopeless optimism.” 

Buck rolls his eyes. “You’ve known me two weeks.” 

“And I’ve known Tommy ten years,” Chim says. “And I know that face. That’s his ‘metaphorically slapped in the face’ face.” 

Tommy clears his throat. “Okay, well, on that note…” 

Hen grins. “You leaving already? What, not sticking around for karaoke?” 

Tommy backs toward his truck, smirking. “Tempting, but I’d rather not watch Chim try to hit the high note in ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ again.” 

“It was one time!” Chim protests. 

Tommy turns back to Buck before he goes. “Call me when you’re sober, Evan.” 

Buck’s grin softens. “What if I text you instead?” 

Tommy smirks, “I’ll need photographic proof it’s you.” 

Buck raises a brow, tilts his head. “Shirt on or off?” 

Tommy’s eyes flick down, then back up. “Dealer’s choice. Just make sure I know what I’m missing.” 

Buck lets out a breathless laugh, flushed now for a different reason entirely, watches Tommy walk to his truck, lips tingling, brain short-circuiting, and knows—without a doubt—he’s absolutely texting him tonight. 

Hen waits until he’s fully out of sight. 

“So,” she says, dragging the word out like it’s been marinating in judgment. 

“So,” Buck echoes, badly pretending to be unaffected. 

“You kissed Tommy,” Chim says, like it’s breaking news. 

“Technically, he kissed me.” 

“In public,” Hen adds. 

“Not that public—” 

Chim grins. “You are glowing. I thought you’d lit a flare.” 

“I am not—” 

“You have the Look,” Hen says. “The dazed, smitten look. You are going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” 

Buck throws his hands up. “Are you seriously giving me grief for kissing your friend?” 

“I thought he kissed you, Firehose,” Chim says with a smirk. “We’re thrilled. You just made so many future gatherings interesting.” 

Hen nods. “Thanksgiving’s gonna be chaos.” 

“Just—can you not tell Bobby yet?” Buck pleads. 

“We’ll see how you behave,” Chim says. 

Hen pats Buck on the shoulder, mock-gentle. “Congrats, Buckaroo. You made an impression.” 

Buck watches the empty street where Tommy’s car vanished and lets out a breath that fogs in the cool night air. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “So did he.” 

Chim tosses him the keys. “You two better get a room next time. I don’t need to walk up on him sexing you up against anything.” 

Buck hums to himself all the way home, tasting whiskey and Tommy and the sharp edge of something new. 

[bendingreality]

Fic Updates!

Tomorrow I will finally be back home from the Workshop from Hell and will have the chance to upload:

Chapter 56 of "Through the Fire, We Rise From the Ashes"

Chapter 7 of "Firehouse Fairytales and Buck's Ongoing Emotional Destruction"

Chapter 13 of "Curious Minds and Controlled Burns"

Chapter 37 of "Rising from the Rubble"

Chapter 2 of "A Secret Garden Grows"

New oneshot “Tipsy Smiles and Tempting Kisses” for the third week of the bucktommysummerfest

[bendingreality]

Sitting in a contract reinforcement workshop and instead of writing notes, I'm writing a different first kiss fic for week three of #bucktommysummerfest. Oops 😁

[bendingreality]

my new fic for week two of @bucktommysummerfest

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Prompt: Full Moon and Up All Night

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: A power outage leaves the city still and silver, and Buck and Tommy find themselves up all night—wrapped in moonlight, laughter, and long-held truths. In the hush of a world paused, they learn each other by touch and by trust, skin against skin, heart against heart. Between bathtubs and rooftop blankets, soft kisses and whispered confessions, something sacred unfolds. Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s just the first night they’ve ever truly let themselves be held.

[bendingreality]

Fic Updates!

Finally able to have my laptop in front of me and update AO3!

By the end of tonight I'll have posted:

Chapter 55 of "Through the Fire"

Chapter 36 of "Rising from the Rubble"

Chapter 12 of "Curious Minds"

Chapter 6 of "Firehouse Fairytales"

"The Sky Breaks in Quiet Despair" (a super angsty oneshot...sorry not sorry)

Chapter 1 of "A Secret Garden Grows" (new BT mpreg multi-chapter fic)

"All the Hours Between Moonrise and Morning" (my week two bucktommysummerfest entry for full moon and up all night.)

Happy reading!

[bendingreality]

First Lines Tag Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag 10 people

Thank you to @tevanlounatic911 for the tag.

Here are my most recent 10 fics. I went by the date I first posted the fic, not by the most recent updates.

A little surprise for everyone is that the last two on the list are teasers for two new fics that I'll be posting in the next few days!!! 😉

How Not to Date in Secret

Ravi is just trying to return Buck’s hoodie. 

It’s the oversized, worn-soft blue one that Buck always wears. Buck had loaned it to him two weeks ago when they’d been caught during a hike by a sudden downpour. Ravi hadn’t meant to keep it—he just forgot that he had it in the backseat of his car, crumpled up like an old granola bar wrapper. 

If He Picks Up

Buck slams back another shot, grimacing before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burns, but it’s a dull kind of pain, the kind that feels deserved. He raises the empty glass when the bartender glances over. The man’s eyes settle on the row of empty glasses littering the bar in front of Buck before he walks over, brow creased with concern. 

Firehouse Fairytales and Buck’s Ongoing Emotional Destruction

Hen is the one who picks Bambi , which Tommy immediately calls a betrayal of the greatest order.  

Softest Hours

The sun spills over the rumpled bedsheets like melted honey, warm and slow. Morning has long since passed, but neither of them cares. The air in the room is quiet, golden, and still, save for the occasional sigh of cotton shifting against skin, the whisper of bare feet brushing under the covers, and the hush of breath between soft, sweet kisses against sleep-warmed skin. 

Falling Without A Safety Net

The world didn’t end with sirens or flames like Buck thought it would—it just got quiet. Painfully, hauntingly quiet. He hadn’t realized how much sound had stitched his life together until it all unraveled and disappeared into the black hole ripped open by the lawsuit: the radio chatter, the hiss of oxygen masks, Bobby’s steady voice calling orders, the snap of Chim’s gum, the gentle teasing of Hen, and the soft murmur of Eddie’s frequent bedtime calls to Chris.   

Curious Minds and Controlled Burns

“Okay,” Chimney says slowly, pointing at the laptop screen. “Is this real life or am I watching an outtake from MythBusters: The Unhinged Edition ?” 

Ashes in the Blood

The station hums with quiet routine—dishes drying in the rack, boots thudding softly against concrete, the low murmur of voices trading stories to pass the time.

10 Times Bobby Was Horrified by Buck and 1 Time He Accepted Reality

Bobby should have known something was up when Buck came in early. Not just on time—early. With two reusable grocery bags, a too-wide grin, and a suspicious amount of enthusiasm that radiated off him like static cling. 

The Sky Breaks in Quiet Despair (unposted)

The call comes in at 02:47 a.m. on a Saturday—a domestic violence incident escalating fast with possible need for a medevac. A panicked neighbor reports being startled awake by the sound of enraged screaming and glass shattering. She can hear heavy things repeatedly crashing into walls from her house across the street. She sobs as she tells them that she thinks her neighbor Jake is going to actually kill his boyfriend this time.

A Secret Garden Grows (tentative title, unposted)

Buck doesn’t even look at the box when he grabs it off the shelf in Target—just snatches it with trembling fingers, keeps his eyes low as he rushes through the aisles like someone might recognize him. He is halfway home before he realizes that he doesn’t even know if this is a brand that he can trust to be accurate.  

I don't know who to tag so anyone who sees this and can do it, consider yourself tagged by me. 😉

[bendingreality]

My AO3 Fic Updates

Hello everyone!

I posted my secret relationship fic on AO3! It can be found here.

I also updated my four WIPs and added my bucktommysummerfest fic "If He Picks Up" to AO3.

Hope you all enjoy them!

[bendingreality]

If He Picks Up

Hi! This is a day late for the first week of the @bucktommysummerfest. I messed up the dates, but better late than never, right? Next week will be on time!

I'll also be posting this on AO3 tomorrow!

Prompt: Angst with a Happy Ending

Rated: Teens and Above (some mention of Alcohol)

Tags: Evan “Buck” Buckley Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining But Also Mutual Idiocy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Found Family Failure, One Phone Call Changes Everything, Buck Spiraling, Buck Realizing Things™, Late Night Conversations

Hope you all enjoy!

Buck slams back another shot, grimacing before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burns, but it’s a dull kind of pain, the kind that feels deserved. He raises the empty glass when the bartender glances over. The man’s eyes settle on the row of empty glasses littering the bar in front of Buck before he walks over, brow creased with concern. 

“How about I get you something to eat before the kitchen closes?” he says, placing a bottle of water down. “The loaded nachos are good.” 

“Sure,” Buck slurs, tilting his head in confusion before pointing at the water. “That’s not tequila.” 

“Good catch,” the bartender says dryly, twisting the cap off and handing it to Buck. “I’m going to have to cut you off, man. You got someone we can call to come get you once you finish those nachos?” 

Buck shakes his head, mouth pulling into a bitter smile. “There isn’t a single person that cares enough to come. Especially now.” 

The bartender leans in a little, voice quieter now. “No siblings, parents, friend?” 

“They won’t come.” Buck’s voice wavers as he rolls the bottle between his palms, trying to still the trembling in his fingers. “They don’t want to deal with me.” 

He swallows hard. The edges of everything feel too sharp—light, sound, the ache behind his eyes. 

“I thought we were there for each other, but it turns out that they don’t agree.” 

The bartender folds his arms, watching him carefully. Not judgmental, just… patient. 

“Maybe they’ll surprise you?” the other man offers gently, leaning on the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. 

Buck lets out a broken laugh, wet and sharp. “Didn’t tell anyone I was taking time off, just sent the request in to HQ. I haven’t seen, messaged, or called anyone in the last eight days. Haven’t answered a message on the group chats. And not a single one of them messaged to check in.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I’ve been completely alone for eight days while I know they are all meeting up and going on with their lives.” 

He sucks in a breath, exhales like it hurts. “And the part that really sucks is that there’s one person I know would come, but I can’t call him. I let them convince me not to reach out when I wanted to so bad… and then when we almost got back together, I fucked it up defending someone who I’m now realizing wouldn’t do the same for me... someone who doesn’t know me the way I thought he did. I let Tommy—who might just be the love of my life—walk away for someone who might not even be the friend I thought he was.” 

The bartender stays quiet for a beat. Then he leans in a little closer. 

“Well,” he says slowly, “if he’s really the love of your life… maybe you should call him anyway.” 

Buck blinks at him, eyes glassy, bloodshot. “What if he doesn’t answer?” 

“Then at least you’ll know. But what if he does?” 

Buck stares down at the condensation building on the water bottle, the soft fizz of the bar fading into a dull thrum in his ears. For a moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. 

Then he pulls his phone out with trembling fingers. He opens Tommy’s contact and stares at the picture. His thumb hovers over the call button. The phone is smudged and sticky from earlier spilled drinks, and his hand shakes like hell. 

He presses Call. 

One ring. Two. Three— 

“Evan?” 

Buck’s eyes fall shut. He forgot how good Tommy’s voice sounded saying his name. Not Buck. Evan. 

“Tommy,” Buck whispers. “I… I need you.” 

A long silence. 

“Where are you?” 

Buck gives him the name of the bar and hears Tommy’s shaky breath on the other end. 

“I’m on my way.” 

The line goes dead. 

Buck doesn’t know how long he sits there, barely touching the nachos when they arrive, sipping at the water the bartender made him promise to finish. His buzz is wearing off and the ache underneath is worse than the tequila’s burn. 

The door swings open and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Tommy—there’s something in the shift of the air.  

But he does look. Because he can’t not. 

Tommy scans the bar, eyes wild until they land on him. 

And then he’s moving. 

He strides over, crowding Buck’s space, not touching but close enough to feel the heat of him. Buck looks up, eyes red-rimmed, jaw slack like he forgot how to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says immediately, voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Shut up,” Tommy mutters, and then he’s pulling Buck into his arms, hugging him so tight it knocks the air out of Buck’s lungs. “You called. That’s all you ever need to do.” 

Buck clutches the back of Tommy’s shirt like he might fall apart without something to hold. 

“I missed you,” he breathes into Tommy’s neck. “God, I missed you.” 

Tommy’s voice is thick. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you...of how we left things.” 

“I should’ve called sooner.” 

“I could’ve called, too.” 

They pull back slightly, eyes searching. There’s anger and heartbreak between them, still raw. But there’s love too. So much love it’s almost unbearable. 

“I don’t know what’s next,” Buck says, “but I don’t want to do any of it without you.” 

Tommy cups his face, thumb brushing a tear off Buck’s cheek. 

“Then don’t.” 

And when their lips finally meet, it’s not desperate or messy. It’s soft. It’s grounding. It tastes like salt and tequila and something Buck hasn’t felt in a long time: 

Home. 

[bendingreality]

Back from My Self-Imposed Hiatus

Hi!

I had taken a step back from AO3 and Tumblr the last few days to focus on my writing while also returning to my job after being out for two weeks with pneumonia!.

Writing wise, I've:

Edited the next 10 chapters of "Through the Fire"

Edited 5 chapters of "Rising From the Rubble"

Edited the next 6 chapters of "Curious Burns" and wrote 2 chapters.

Edited the rest of the "Firehouse Fairytales"

Finished my final review of the secret relationship fic!

Finalized the first 13 chapters of a Bucktommy mpreg fic, and plotted out the rest of the story.

And wrote and edited a fic for the first week of the #bucktommysummerfest (which I will post here today!)

and jotted down the plot ideas for a few oneshots inspired by some songs

I won't be able to post anything on AO3 today, but I will add the fic for #bucktommysummerfest here.

But will be updating everything else tomorrow!

Yay!

[bendingreality]

I tried to update my ao3 WIPs from my phone but every time I copied and pasted, it made the format weird. SOOOO here's a little teaser from the secret relationship story I'm almost ready to post since I couldn't update ao3.

The handwriting looks suspiciously like Tommy’s. She’s seen it before—on little notes left on Buck’s fridge at the loft, old birthday cards Chim has tucked away, and once in marker scribbled on the inside of Buck’s arm after a drunken night out. The way the lowercase G loops, sharp and neat, confident. She traces her finger over the way Evan’s weird tea" is underlined twice, like someone had laughed writing it.

Now, I just need to figure out a name for this. 😅

[bendingreality]

Did I spend most of my Sunday writing the BT secret relationship fic while completely ignoring all the things I need to get done around the house that I haven't been able to do because pneumonia was kicking my ass? Yes.

Did I somehow stay up until almost 3 AM working on the multichapter BT mpreg fic I told myself I wasn't going to write until I finished a few of the other fics I've been working on? Also, yes. 😅

Do i feel even the slightest bit of regret? Honestly, not even a little. 😂

[bendingreality]

Earlier today as I was scrolling through my feed trying to get a feel for Tumblr, I saw someone post about wanting a story where Buck and Tommy were secretly dating and no one knew. I wish I had actually interacted with the post so I can at least let that person know I'm writing the fic.

I hadn't written something that is pure unadulterated silliness in so long that I hesitated to actually start writing it, but said why not give it a try?

Now I have an almost 2000 word fic that includes a text from Ravi that reads: You better bleach your kitchen counter before you even attempt to feed me anything you cooked in that kitchen. 

I think me being on Tumblr might end up with me writing a lot more than I already am. Oh well.

[bendingreality]

Hi!

I'm Tan, who some might know as bendingreality on AO3 where I write 911 stories that are mostly BuckTommy with a few general Buck pieces.

I've finally decided to actually start using this account that I made so I can use with my A03 account to chat about Buck and Tommy's relationship and to engage more in the fandom.

I'll be sharing insights into my writing process, sharing sneak peeks into future chapters and fics, and definitely will occasional be asking you for prompts, ideas, and recs.

Any recommendations for communities I should join or tags I should use?