cecilyv

[cecilyv]

New Fic: Triangulating Happiness (9-1-1, buck/tommy, PG, 19k)

@liminalmemories21 and I were finally home at the same time. Within there are a lot of OC's, a riff on Sal, and so much Tommy. So, you know, the usual.

What if Buck came to work at Harbor?

Prologue Tommy has what he would call a tension headache, except that he refuses to be stressed out about creating a two-week schedule, even if July 4th falls in the middle and McDaniels is due to pop any minute and Duong has PTSD and shouldn’t be scheduled for anything remotely resembling fireworks and Gerritson’s is… off doing whatever he’s doing that is not working overtime the week Tommy needs him to. Tommy’s pretty sure he overheard that it was his twins’ birthday, which is absolutely not a good excuse. “You alright over there, Kinard?” Tommy sighs, “You know what you did to me, Cap.” Their offices are across a hall from each other and they never shut the doors; nothing happens at the 217 that everyone can’t hear. He likes it. Or did until he got reamed out after stealing a helicopter (for Evan) (again). He would have preferred if Donato did not have more dirt to lord over him. Tommy stares at the list for outside options until his eyes blur but. Nope, Evan’s name is still there on the transfer list, open for filling the gaping hole in…Tommy’s schedule. Finally fills Evan's name into the empty shift slots, stares at it for a while longer and then bites the bullet. Prints the transfer request and takes it and the schedule over to Melton and slides them in front of him. Melton reads them and then looks up at Tommy, eyebrow raised. "You want to work with your ex?"

[cecilyv]

For the cuddling prompts 💞 could I get number 30 or 6 please? I love that trope so much ❤️

thank you for sending this in!! some more bodyguard au, cuddling out of necessity (30). emotional necessity. big time. buckley parents. they're happening. this is bodyguard buck and senator kinard, set after this last installment. wordcount about 1.8k. find all parts of the bodyguard au here (tagged "bodyguard au (screamlet)").

---

They try to take their time with brunch, but as more people arrive they start doing double takes at their table in the corner. Evan and Sal are right: he's not good at blending in. While Evan's looking at his phone, Tommy slips away to the register and pays in cash, then goes back to (gently) grab Evan and bring him back to their car.

Soon after, they're back on the road to DC and Maddie's apartment. She called twice while they were eating and Evan didn't seem to notice, so he calls her back now.

"They're what," Evan asks flatly. Tommy can hear the tenor of Maddie's voice from the driver's side, but he can't make out the words.

From the corner of his eye, Tommy watches Evan pinch the bridge of his nose as he leans on the passenger side door. It's his bad shoulder and he doesn't seem to notice. Not a great sign of things to come. "Okay, well. We're on our way. We stopped for breakfast. Yeah, he took me out to breakfast. It says we'll be there at noon, okay?"

He hesitates, then says, "I'm sorry. No, I know, but—yeah. I'm still—okay. Okay, bye."

Evan lets his phone sit in his lap and stares straight ahead at the road. Tommy gives him a few moments before he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Evan says, then shakes his head. "My parents are here. They drove down from Hershey and they're staying at a hotel near Maddie's. And…" He rubs his forehead again as he says, "And they're freaking out."

Tommy waits, but there's nothing else. "Do you want me to talk to them?"

Evan scoffs. "What, like my teacher? I know you're concerned about Evan's performance in class, but he's really bright, he just needs to apply himself."

"Sounds like there's something there," Tommy answers dryly. "Excuse the crude language I'm about to use, but less parent-teacher conference and more big dick senator."

Evan chokes and squirms in his seat under the seatbelt. Tommy didn't think he was that funny. "Yeah, uh, let's. Maybe. I don't know. Do you want to get yelled at today?"

"By them? I don't care. Though I should call Sal and let him know. Do you think they're the splashy expose kind?"

"No, no way," Evan replies. "They're just—just kind of the worst."

"Helpful."

"I'll put Sal on speaker," Evan says. "And you don't have to come with me to Maddie's, you can just drop me off and—and you don't have to—" He seems to realize it's futile now. "Yeah, you'll see what I mean."

"Unfortunately, now I'm fascinated." When Sal picks up, Tommy says, "Hey sunshine, I've got something to spice up your day."

"Oh what the fuck now?"

---

Evan has a pair of crutches, but he has to get around on just one since he was hit in the shoulder. Something about only the one crutch screams Civil War veteran and Tommy tries to ignore it. He's carrying a weekender bag with Evan's clothes as well as the tote bag with his home care instructions and medication, and they're moving down the hall to Maddie's apartment slower than Tommy could imagine.

"Evan." Tommy had been walking behind him, but he comes up and rests a hand on Evan's elbow. "Listen: if it's that bad? Stay with me."

"What?" Evan stares at him and then shakes his head. "No, no, it's—it'll be fine, honestly I'm exaggerating, they're not—it's fine."

"The more you tell me it's fine," Tommy begins.

"It's fine," Evan says, then moves a little faster.

"It's an open-ended offer," Tommy says. "Whatever kind of stress is behind that door—"

"They're my family," Evan says. "It's what I've got. It'll be fine."

---

It is anything but fine.

"If you had told us you were taking a job as a bodyguard—"

"Well, that's why I didn't tell you," Evan replies. "And hey, are you going to say hello to US Senator Thomas Kinard of California, my boss?"

Evan's father reluctantly approaches and shakes his hand. "I thought you were a state senator."

"Well, I'm not," Tommy says. He extends his hand to Evan's mother, who looks at him with fury and disgust before she quickly, barely offers him her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. An experience, even."

"Tommy," Evan hisses.

"Mom, Dad, can Evan sit down or does he need to be standing for this?" Maddie asks. She glares at them as she helps Evan to an armchair in the corner.

"Evan," his mother sighs.

"Tommy," Maddie says, then catches herself. "Okay. We all got off on the wrong foot. Senator Kinard, these are our parents, Margaret and Phillip Buckley. Mom, Dad, this is Senator Kinard."

Tommy smiles at them, small and tight. "Tommy's fine, thank you."

"Sounds like a child's name," Margaret says. "A man your age doesn't go by Tom?"

Evan sinks deeper into his chair, and rubs his stubbled face hard enough that he might get a clean shave like that.

"If Tommy doesn't work, Senator Kinard is fine, Mrs. Buckley," Tommy replies. "And Maddie's right: I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'll leave once I can tell you—"

"Tell us what?" Phillip demands. "Our son almost died for you." Phillip turns to Evan and Maddie. "After taking a reckless, stupid job working for this man."

"A week, a week, Senator," Margaret says, "and every time we turn on the television, there's our son in a hail of bullets while you stand there—"

"He saved my life!" Evan yells. "He threw me on the ground and protected me, and then he got the guy who shot me in the first place. He says I'm brave, I say he's braver, knowing what was gonna happen and doing it anyway."

"And you wouldn't have been in the situation in the first place if you hadn't taken this insane job," Margaret replies. "You should have never left home. You should have stayed and finished school, and instead you became a low life living out of Maddie's car—"

"Oh my god, Mom!" Maddie yells. "Stop talking to him like that! What's wrong with you, both of you? That's your son."

"He's our son, our one living son, and from the minute he could think for himself, he's looked for every way possible to throw his life away," Phillip says.

Tommy stares at them in disbelief, then looks at Evan, who's—barely there. Not even a little bit in his body. He's not even fidgeting with the phone in his lap, just holding it and staring blankly at something on the floor. He seems to realize Tommy's watching him because he looks up, embarrassed and helpless. He mouths sorry at him, then nods towards the door. Go.

"Evan," Tommy interrupts, eyes locked on him. "It feels a little crowded in here. Do you want to spend a few days at my place? The guest room is on the ground floor. I could give you rides to PT on my way to the office." Tommy nods at the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" Phillip asks. "Do you think you're taking our son from us after—"

"He's a grown man who took three bullets in defense of a US Senator, Mr. Buckley," Tommy replies. "He can do whatever he wants. I'm giving him options, which is more than what I can say for you."

Evan looks between all four of them, terrified, then sits up. Maddie helps him out of the armchair and Tommy grabs the bags he just put down, as well as Evan's other crutch.

"Evan, don't be absurd, sit down, you're not going anywhere with this man," Margaret says.

"No, he's right," Evan says. He straightens out his shirt and adjusts himself on the one crutch. "I'll call you, Maddie."

Suddenly, Margaret realizes he's actually leaving. She reaches for his arm and almost knocks him over as she grabs him. "Evan, no, Evan, please don't go, you—you have to understand—"

"I do," Evan says, then pulls away.

"No, you don't," Phillip says, but doesn't elaborate.

"Tell me later," Evan says, then looks sadly at Maddie. "I'll call you later?"

She nods, her eyes tearing up as she looks at Evan, then at Tommy. "I'll, uh. You have my number if—if anything comes up."

Tommy nods and holds the apartment door open for Evan. He's slung Evan's bags over his shoulder again and firmly shuts the door behind them.

"Wow," Evan says. "That was even worse than I thought. Pretty impressive."

"Okay, good, that wasn't them on easy mode," Tommy says.

"No, but. It's not… great, either. Normally."

Tommy nods. He rests his hand on the nape of Evan's neck with a gentle squeeze, then lets go. "We'll talk in the car. Or we won't. And you don't have to stay at my place if you don't want to, I only wanted to get you out of there. If you want a hotel or—"

"No, uh. Your place is good. It—if it's a real offer."

Tommy meets his eyes. "It is. It's real."

"Then I'll stay," Evan says, but he looks away. He punches the elevator button and, thankfully, they don't have to wait long at all.

When the doors shut, Evan leans into Tommy and wraps his arms around his waist. He's shaking, big heaving breaths as he hides against Tommy's shoulder. "What the fuck," he whispers, and Tommy holds him closer. "Don't believe them. Don't believe anything they say."

"I'm sorry to tell you this and ruin the beautiful image you have of my life," Tommy says, "but I've heard worse. I mean, a week ago, a guy tried to shoot me."

Evan lets out the smallest, most pathetic laugh, and presses more against Tommy, who's grateful for the longest elevator ride in the world.

"You're okay," Tommy says quietly, then—then he does it, and kisses the side of Evan's head. He freezes for a second, both of them do, but then Evan lets Tommy gather him closer. Tommy braves another one, this time to the top of his head and lets his lips rest there. He smells too much like a hospital and even like that diner, but they can fix that. Evan's somewhere in there. Evan's here.

Then Evan holds himself up and looks into Tommy's eyes. He never, never would have dared with anyone else who worked for him, with him, but he dares with Evan. He touches Evan's chin, his thumb in the faint line of Evan's cleft, and their lips meet, a warm and soft spot for both of them to land. Evan pulls away, pupils wide and captivated as he stares at Tommy.

"Was that okay?" Tommy asks.

"Yeah," Evan whispers, then leans in and kisses him again, and again.

[cecilyv]

Oddly, I think I wrote most of this one?

em dash, semicolon, parenthetical, sub clause -this sentence has it all. (this sentence needs to be three sentences, minimum)

[cecilyv]

Cuddling prompts—14 or 30, depending on how inspiration strikes?

haha. hahaha. what. what is this. uh. thanks for waiting! this is (sort of, technically, maybe?) for both: cuddling in public (14) and out of necessity (in a small space, etc)(30). VERY loosely.

politics au, bodyguard au, age gap. bodyguard buck and senator kinard, 600ish words. EDIT: fixed a continuity error in the first paragraph, sorry if you reblogged the original 😐

---

Seriously, all Buck needs is to get his devastatingly handsome war hero US senator killed his first year on the job.

"Listen, you're new," says Senator Kinard (aka please call me Tommy, Senator Kinard is for the CSPAN crowd and, you know, the American people, I guess you're one of them, jeez am I rambling or what?)

"It's been four months, I'm not new," Buck says. There's a loud echoing bang somewhere in the office building where the senator had a meeting, and Buck can't help but crowd him further into the server room where he had shoved him when shots started to ring out. "Did my 90-day review and everything. Passed with flying colors."

"And I'm very proud," Tommy replies. Unfortunately, the praise hits Buck like a finger lightly tracing a path down his spine, making him too alert and aware of his body urging the senator into a corner of the room. "But how much experience do you have with that weapon?"

"Uh. What—what do you mean? Plenty. Enough. Plenty enough." Buck pauses. "You better not—"

"I was a pilot in the war, and a damn good shot, Evan," he replies. "If it comes to it—"

"Yeah, you're not touching my gun." Buck swallows the thickness in his throat. "I'm here to keep you safe and—"

"Think of the polling numbers if I foil my own assassination attempt," Tommy jokes. "You wouldn't want me to lose my re-election campaign in a couple of years, would you?"

"Don't. Touch. My. Gun."

"You work for me." His voice is closer, suddenly. "Isn't it the government's gun? My gun?"

Buck rests his hand on his holster when he's too aware of the body heat creeping closer behind him. "Don't."

There's space again when the senator's expensive shoes take a step back from him, further into the room. Buck doesn't loosen his grip.

"You're a sweet kid," Tommy says.

Buck scoffs. "I'm 29."

"I'm 42, and I've taken lives before," Tommy says, too quiet and serious. "If you can get through your contract without doing the same, doing it for me—I'd sleep a lot better at night, Evan."

Buck's heart races faster. "I've gotta grow up sometime."

"Not like this."

Buck looks over his shoulder. As dry and smug as the senator can sound sometimes, especially in his private time, there's nothing like seeing him face-to-face. It's his eyes, he thinks, that got him elected. His sharp tongue, his passionate voice, and his eyes that say: I mean it. I mean every word.

"It's not a choice," Buck says. "It's the job. You're mine to protect." He says it again, his voice stronger. "You're mine, Senator."

Tommy takes a moment before he nods, resigned. "Three years into my term and I'm not used to it—someone made to look out for me. Someone who actually wants me to live."

There's more noise outside, shouting. Buck had barricaded the door when they got inside, but he tenses again as they fall silent, his hand back on his gun. Suddenly there's a firm wall of heat against his back, a hand on his waist and one on his hip.

"You have to relax," the senator whispers near his ear, like the people outside can hear them. "Listen, relax, be aware of your surroundings. Don't jump before you have to. Be in the moment. You'll know."

He sighs and rests his forehead against the nape of Buck's neck. "I hope you don't have to."

Buck exhales, takes slow, deep breaths, pressing closer against the senator with every inhale. "Lower your heart rate. Just listen to my voice."

Easier said than done, Buck thinks, as he leans into his touch and breathes in his calm, this moment.

[cecilyv]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Evan “Buck” Buckley & Firehouse 118 Crew Characters: Evan “Buck” Buckley, Tommy Kinard, Maddie Buckley, Athena Grant, Henrietta “Hen” Wilson, Howie “Chimney” Han, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Carla Price, Lucy Donato, Albert Han (9-1-1 TV), Michael Grant (9-1-1 TV), David Hale (9-1-1 TV), Eli Cobb (9-1-1 TV), Margaret Buckley, Phillip Buckley Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s08e18 Seismic Shifts (9-1-1 TV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Evan “Buck” Buckley, Road Trips, buck gets hugged good and proper, no srsly count the hugs Summary:

“And you are coming back,” she says, half in question. “I need you.”

It would’ve been better if she’d stabbed him in the stomach. For a second there he can’t breathe.

“What? Buck, please talk to me.”

“No, you don’t,” Buck says in a low voice. “I’m- I’m not-”

She takes his face in her hands, like when he was six, like when he was twelve, like when he was nineteen. “Listen. If this is not the place for you anymore, I will understand. But you and me? That can never change. I told you, you are never alone as long as I’ve got the ability to do something about it.”

“Okay,” Buck says, sniffling. “Okay.”

~

Buck goes on a road trip. A story of reconnection.

[cecilyv]

wip wednesday

Tagged by @rcmclachlan.

Sometimes I feel a bit like Tommy in this snippet from @liminalmemories21 and I.

He's working on Cap's backlog of incident reports when Evan drops into the chair across from him, stretching out his legs. He ignores him for as long as he can, poking at the keyboard. Never learned to touch type, so he's left hunting and pecking and uses that as an excuse to never look up. Evan gives him three minutes, which is about two minutes longer than he expected. "How long does Cap have you sidelined?" And then, "Is it because of me?" "Because of me," he answers, because it's true. "And another month." Evan whistles, "Desk duty for that long?  I’d go stir crazy.” Snorts. “I did go stir crazy. Can Cap even afford that?" And no, he can't, which is why he’s doing all the station paperwork, and Evan's long legs are taunting him from the other side of the desk.  On the other hand, Melton seems to be enjoying actually being out in the field more, so maybe he’s really doing Cap a favor here. It's weird to hear Evan say Cap and know it's not about Bobby. 

[cecilyv]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @iboatedhere, @setmeatopthepyre, and @geddyqueer

This fic has grown a lot more words since Friday, despite @cecilyv's work life suddenly getting active as soon as my schedule opened up again. Life is very unfair this way. Still no clipboards have been harmed in the making of this fic.

Tommy's always been quiet, which is good – no one expects him to fill in the gaps in a conversation, or join in when they take lunch, or do anything more than hide under a helicopter and listen while everyone around him shoots the shit.  So he learns a lot, about what Evan's willing to share, and not. Realizes he's learned more about Evan in the last three weeks than he did in six months. About real things, family things.  History things. Has a moment where he genuinely wonders -- what the hell had they talked about? Because it hadn't all just been sex. Okay, there'd been a lot of sex. Very good sex.  He’s missed the sex. But, they'd talked too. A lot. Just, about what? It helps he thinks that Lucy had known Evan before, has history with him – not quite 118 co-dependent history, but history – she can ask questions it would never have occurred to him to ask.  It's also how he learns that they kissed once. They forgot he was there, and teased each other about it. And oh. so. he doesn't need to be so jealous, he learned that the hard way – pushes himself out from under the belly and says... “Not helping the rumors about how incestuous the 118 is.” There’s something that crosses Evan’s face, too fast for him to parse.  “I have never slept with anyone at the 118.”  Points a finger at Lucy when she smirks.  “We did not sleep together.” She flicks her fingers at him.  “You should be so lucky.” Evan grins and agrees with her, and Tommy ….is not jealous.

tagging @freneticfloetry, @screamlet, and @irispurpurea in return.

[cecilyv]

what is this magic?

I don't know how y'all write anything. @liminalmemories21 helps me create magic. Like, I don't want to write a scene but she does? And then sometimes, I'm just like, "here's the bare bones of what I'd like this to be?" and she presents it, fully fleshed out? I can write all the non-fiction you want at any length by myself, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to write a story without a second brain again.

[cecilyv]

last lines tag game

tagged by @rcmclachlan - thank you friend!

Have something to play with again, so here's a snippet:

Tommy knows the perfect way to make his avocado toast (sliced, not mashed, with cracked pepper and lemon on top), but doesn't realize that the basketball was pretty much a pure jealousy thing (still not convinced it was over him and not Eddie, but that's his deal not Evan's) until Gerritson invites him to place horse on the Harbor hoop and he shrugs and says, "Na, not really my sport. Hit me up when you find a football, eh?" That's also how they find out Michaels went pro.

Tommy learns a lot now. From Evan. About him, too.

No pressure tagging @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake, @adiprose, @geddyqueer @meibhin @ambernotember

[cecilyv]

reunion cuddles? 👉👈 (also yay you're working on layla and bailey)

a happy one!!! my god!! in this economy!! (and layla and bailey are chugging along, can you believe difficult conversations are difficult to write? surprised the hell out of me) anyway: 850ish words of post s8 fix-it. inspired by @rcmclachlan's recurring tag "a three-minute conversation could fix them." this is like. idk. seven to eight minutes max.

---

As Buck and Tommy unpack their flea market and garage sale findings, Buck looks around his new apartment. He's been here a month and a half and it already looks so much like a home, a place where he wants to spend his time.

He knows in his gut that's because he can see so many pieces of Tommy here. The dark teal vase he said looked better than a navy one. A pair of framed sketches of backyard bugs, where Buck had found one and Tommy had dug around for its match, finally found it for him.

And there's the most obvious: Tommy standing in his kitchen gently cleaning a new vintage serving dish they'd found that Buck can't wait to cook in. Fuck, this is—it's what he wants.

Buck has been thinking and staring long enough that Tommy's finished drying off the dish. He catches Buck's eye and smiles. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda." Buck moves into the kitchen and stands across from him on the other side of the island. "Can we talk about something?"

He can see the way Tommy's shoulders immediately tense. "Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything."

"I know, but as I want this to go both ways," Buck says. He waits until Tommy's done drying the dish and Tommy's done when he realizes Buck isn't talking until he is.

"So what's up?" He looks so terrified already that Buck wants to back off; he doesn't want to be responsible for putting that expression on his face. But the only way out is through, and Buck has to get this thing moving.

"I want to try again. Us. Being together. Dating." Buck doesn't look away. "Would you want that?"

Tommy looks at him like there's a catch and, honestly, he's right to do it. There's lots of catches, Buck's going to make sure of that. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

They say it in unison: "What's the catch?" Tommy rolls his eyes, smiling, and Buck can't help tilting his head to follow his smile.

"We have to talk to each other," Buck says slowly. "I want to know you, Tommy. All of you. I mean it."

He can tell that a dozen self-deprecating jokes want to punch their way out of Tommy's mouth, but he's holding them back. He's digging. They might actually do this. Buck really hopes so.

"I think," Tommy says, "that when you scratch past all this, you're gonna find a whole lot of nothing."

"Yeah, well. Let me decide, would you?" Buck tries his best not to look away. "Maybe what you call nothing means more to me than everyone else's something."

Tommy nods, still unconvinced. Buck asks, "What do you want? What do you need? I want you to stay with me. What can we do to make that happen?"

The silence stretches out and Buck lets it. He can do this—he can make space for Tommy. He's just relieved that Tommy's trying. He's trying to try. He's digging and that's all Buck wants. He wants more Tommy.

"I listen to you, Evan," Tommy says, "and I think you're used to letting your words roll off people's backs. I'm not like that. I hear you. I take you seriously, so you have to watch what you say. You have to think about what you're saying before you say them to me. And if you promise to do that, then I'll promise to stay. I just—" Tommy drums his fingers nervously on the counter. "If I show you my feelings, I don't want them to get hurt. So don't hurt me with things you don't mean."

Buck nods. "Okay. Okay, I can try to do that."

"Okay." He's going to drum the kitchen island to pieces at this point. "And you have to give me time. Like." Tommy laughs and motions to himself. "The excavation process here? It's a long one. A long one. So just. Let me." Tommy smiles. "Like you're doing now. Like this."

"Okay. I can do that." Buck smiles back. "I like hearing things about you. I can listen, Tommy. I want to hear you. So talk to me."

"And we have to talk," Tommy says. "I don't want to bury things because I think you'll leave. I don't want to leave because I think you want me to bury things."

Buck nods, then grins. "I'm getting a notepad. We should write this down."

Tommy laughs. "Really? You can't remember this?"

"Now? Yeah. When we need it, in the moment? Maybe not! So: terms and conditions."

The only paper Buck has is a 5×5" notepad with a crate of vegetables printed in the corner. Tommy shakes his head as Buck comes around with a pen. "Okay, so."

"Come here," Tommy interrupts. He hugs Buck, his hand resting at the nape of Buck's neck. "We're doing this?" he asks quietly.

Buck hugs him back tight, pen and paper in one hand as he sways in his arms. "Yeah, we are. As soon as we finalize our contract."

Tommy hugs him tighter. Buck sighs with relief, the newest piece of his new life finally in place, exactly where he wants him to be.

[cecilyv]

Fic First Lines

tagged by @rcmclachlan - thank you!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people.

Failing to cast a shadow (911 - Buck/Tommy - Inception!AU)

Something feels off.

Kobayashi Maru (911- Buck/Tommy - post season end)

There might be nowhere in LA, in California, hell, on the planet, that Tommy wants to be less than Bobby Nash's funeral.

half a page of scribbled lines (911 - Buck/Tommy - kid!fic - also post season end, we had a lot of feelings)

They get married before they move in together.

Pegasus Rising (911 - Buck/Tommy - SGA!AU)

When they dial the stargate for Atlantis, Tommy is still a little shell-shocked by the whole concept.

Comedy of Errors (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Tommy hates elevators.

Bingo Card (911 - Buck/Tommy(+ Abbey))

A threesome with his ex-fiancé was not on Tommy’s 2018 bingo card.

Are we in the clear yet? Good (911 Lonestar - TK/Carlos)

He hadn’t realized how much he’d allowed himself to relax while he was talking to TK until he hangs up and feels his back straighten again, pulling him upright, shoulders back, at attention.

(side note, I love that everything I write with @cecilyv is a tight one line, shit I write by myself meanders on for like three lines before we reach a period)

the chain I forged (911 - Buck/Tommy - Christmas Carol!AU)

He comes awake abruptly, the hair on the back of his arms standing straight up.

a comet's misfortune (911 - Buck/Tommy)

“It was way worse than our house,” Chim tells Maddie as she pulls out crayons and a coloring book.

Every song has a you (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Buck appreciates that Eddie learned early on that when Buck gets maudlin he sends inadvisable texts; angry, bitter things that he'd never send when he was sober. Would never even write sober.

tagging @freneticfloetry, @dadvans, @screamlet, and @iboatedhere

[cecilyv]

fic first lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people.

Thanks to @beanarie and @mushysquashythingamajig for tagging me! 😚

+

1. Tommy's first real memory—one he knows he made himself and not one that was handed to him by an adult—is of watching planes leave vapor trails in the sky while his father sneers to someone in the background, "There's something about that boy that just isn't right."

(From Just An Earthbound Misfit)

+

2. Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call.

(From The Least Vulnerable Spot)

+

3. "They want me to say something."

(From Stage Zero)

+

4. It takes Tommy maybe two minutes tops to do a post-flight check.

(From Red Over Red)

+

5. The very second Tommy decided on helicopters, people came crawling out of the woodwork to offer their two cents on everything from industry politics (all dangled carrots and empty promises) to what constitutes a good operator (whoever's actually signing your paycheck at the time) to which jobs would bring in the most money (ditching helicopters entirely in favor of planes).

(From Windfinding)

+

6. "What was your best Christmas ever?"

(From This Very Simple Phrase)

+

7. It takes only a second to scroll through the rows of photos until he finds the one he wants to show her, but instead of handing his phone over, he takes a moment to admire it.

(From Table of Contents)

+

8. It would've been an allogeneic transplant.

(From Histocompatibility)

+

9. When Buck sighs, it sounds despondent, even to his own ears, which is insane considering he's finally got a medal and isn't being court-martialed for his involvement in the theft of municipal property.

(From Sucrose)

+

10. At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency.

(From Return of the Mack)

+

No pressure tagging: @setmeatopthepyre, @screamlet, @dadvans, @firehose118, @geddyqueer, @leashybebes, @liminalmemories21, @apollabarnes, @adiprose, and @politenotice

[cecilyv]

halooooo tumblr

I have returned from the wilderness, and by the wilderness I mean a 3 week summer intensive continuing ed class that ate my life.

Lessons learned from this 3 week class (note, these are note the lessons I think I was supposed to be learning, but nonetheless).

I have been spoiled by writing with @cecilyv who can read my mind (save me from group projects, and people who write via ChatGPT)

I should never be allowed to edit for anyone who does not already know and love me (literal text I sent @cecilyvwho said ‘oh no!’ and then sent me a fic prompt with the promise that I was allowed to edit her with impunity)

Be the Kathy Bates from Fried Green Tomatoes that you want to see in the world (“I’m older and I have better insurance” – in this case, to ask the professor all the pointed questions because you are old and have nothing to lose, unlike the 22 year olds in the class)

Anyway, have the start of the fic prompty @cecilyv sent me on Saturday that I told her I needed two more days before she could send it to me, and then we wrote 3000 more words anyway.

Tommy has what he would call a tension headache, but he refuses to be stressed out about creating a two-week schedule, even if July 4th falls in the middle and McDaniels is due to pop any minute and Duong has ptsd and shouldn’t be scheduled for anything remotely resembling fireworks and Gerritson’s is… off doing whatever he’s doing that is not working overtime the week Tommy needs him too. “You alright over there Kinard?” Tommy sighs, “you know what you did to me, Cap.” Tommy stares at the list for outside options until his eyes blur but. Nope, Evan’s name is still there on the transfer list, open for filling the gaping hole in…Tommy’s schedule. Finally fills Evan's name into the empty shift slots, stares at it for a while longer and then bites the bullet. Prints the transfer request and takes it and the schedule over to Melton and slides them in front of him. Melton reads them and then looks up at Tommy, eyebrow raised. "You want to work with your ex?" He studiously does not have a reaction.  Evan had picked him up sometimes.  He'd talked about him.  They hadn't been a secret.  It still makes him a little twitchy to hear his boss talk about it.  Says mildly, "He's a good firefighter." Melton snorts and takes off his reading glasses.  "He's a great firefighter.  There'd be a bidding war over him if anyone thought the request was serious." He finds he's offended on Evan's behalf.  He'd wondered why the request was still out there.  Says sharply, "He's not a child."  Shakes his head at Melton's expression.  "Sorry Cap, I didn't mean ... just, the request's been out there for two months and he hasn't withdrawn it, I think he's serious." 

[cecilyv]

Hey tumblr,

Who's the captain of the 217?

[cecilyv]

#how it feels talking to younger generations at work about major past events

[cecilyv]

you're now named after the last thing you ate, is your new name good?

[cecilyv]

PUMP UP THE VOLUME 1990 | dir. Allan Moyle