kamkamkam

I just want to say, as a writer myself, whilst I fully respect your decision to private your work and set boundaries, I am so sorry you’ve been put in this situation.

every time I refresh the buddie tag in AO3 I’m hoping to see something new from you, and when there is, it makes me feel all giddy and excited to read what you’ve created this time. I’d often see you’d posted something new right before I went into a therapy session, and it would help me to remember not to take myself so seriously, and get me in a much more receptive headspace.

you have such a natural and glittering talent. your ability to oscillate seamlessly between innate hilarity (being funny can’t be taught, and you, my friend, are funny) , and a deep and beautiful understanding of what it means to be human and messy and experience love and joy.

that’s rare and lovely and I truly hope that even if you never write for this fandom again, you don’t let it keep you from writing at all, for yourself if nothing else.

i dont get on tumblr much so i haven't had a chance to see this until now, but to whoever this is, thank you. this truly is one of the kindest messages i've ever received and if you're comfortable with it, i'd love it if you messaged me so we can talk more <3

i have decided to step back from writing for this fandom, though im not sure if its indefinitely. i hope someday in the future i can come back and write more because i truly do love it so much. my fics will stay up and im sure ill continue to write, im just unsure of how much ill share, if any.

i bring you, part one of my buddie age gap fic, with captain buck & probie eddie :)

meet me where i left you

28k words | rated e

desperate times (slutty measures)

13.3k words | rated t

"Dad." Chris looks up. "Dad, please tell me this isn't actually you. Please tell me you have a secret twin or something." Eddie frowns. "What isn't me?" "This." Chris shoves his phone across the table, nearly knocking over Eddie's water glass in the process. Eddie catches it before it can slide into his plate and looks at the screen. It's TikTok, which Eddie barely understands despite Chris's many patient attempts to explain it to him. There's a video playing on loop and the quality is terrible but Eddie recognizes his kitchen immediately. Those floor-to-ceiling windows he'd been so excited about when he first saw the apartment. The window with the busted blinds he keeps meaning to replace. His couch. That’s definitely his couch. And yeah, okay, that's definitely him, shirtless, wearing the stupid cowboy hat that his buddy from his new firehouse gave him as a welcome-to-the-team gift. That’s him. Cooking dinner. In full view of his massive windows. For apparently the entire internet to see. "Oh my god," Eddie says faintly. Or, A crash course in accidental thirst traps and the soulmates they attract.

chain of command

7.5k words | rated e

"I'm kidding, relax." Buck grins at him, radiating false innocence, and takes another sip. "Although I bet if I really wanted you to do something, I'd just have to ask nicely. Say please." He pauses, Eddie can see the mischief brewing, can practically see the gears turning in Buck's head. "Or maybe just call you sir. That seems to work pretty well." Eddie stops breathing. So much for trying to act natural. Buck is watching him now, really watching him with sharp curious eyes and Eddie can feel himself being catalogued, examined, picked apart and analyzed like a bug under a microscope. "I don't know what you're talking about," Eddie says, which is a blatant lie and they both know it. "Sure you don't." Buck pushes off the counter, still smiling that infuriating smile. "Whatever you say, sir." Or, Eddie Diaz and the three letter problem. a 9x08 coda

buck, baffled and billboarded

13k words | rated t

There’s a billboard. Which is a normal thing to find on the side of the interstate. Advertisements for car dealerships and injury lawyers and anything you could ever dream of. This, though… this is beyond his wildest dreams. This billboard has a picture of a man, about Eddie’s age, blond curly hair and crystal blue eyes. The man on the billboard is— He is— The billboard text swims into focus slowly, as if Eddie is surfacing from deep water. THIS IS BUCK. HE’S 33, SINGLE, AND A FIREFIGHTER. HE’S A GREAT COOK IF YOU DON’T MIND BREAKFAST FOOD FOR EVERY MEAL. I’M BEGGING SOMEONE TO DATE HIM SO HE STOPS THIRD-WHEELING MY MARRIAGE. And then, underneath, in smaller letters: ALL GENDERS WELCOME TO APPLY. I'M DESPERATE AND HE'S HOPELESS. PLEASE CONTACT MADDIE AT: [email protected] Or, The sisterly art of romantic sabotage.

chris diaz, matchmaker extraordinaire

10.4k | rated ga

The kid claps a hand over his mouth. His eyes are huge and sparkling with something that looks like excitement or mischief, probably both. "Sorry, sorry," he whispers loudly. Then he leans forward, like he's about to share a secret. "You're a hunk, right?" Buck chokes on nothing. "I. What?" "A hunk," the kid repeats. "You know, a hunk." "I..." Buck has no idea what's happening. "Sure? I guess? I mean, I've been told... I work out sometimes—" "Perfect!" The kid is already digging around in his backpack. He pulls out a slightly crumpled rectangle of cardstock and presents it to Buck with great ceremony. "This is for you." It's a handmade card written in crayon, blue crayon. The handwriting is careful but wobbly, the letters all different sizes. My dad likes boys and is single. He is a HERO and fights fires like Superman. He is a hunk. If intrested, please contact Chris Diaz. Or, Christopher's fix-it kit for lonely dads.

here's a silly little different meeting au oneshot :))

lost and found

4k | rated ga

"Hello?" he says to the clothing rack, and wow, okay, so this is his life now, he's a guy who talks to clothing racks in public, that's who he is, that's what he's doing. "Hi," says the clothing rack again. Buck peers between the hangers to get a better look—oh. Oh, there's a very small human in there, blinking up at him from inside what appears to be a nest made entirely of women's cardigans. So that's good, he's not losing his mind, that's a relief. "Um," Buck says. "Hi?" The kid has curly hair and big eyes and crutches propped up against the inside of the rack, and he's looking at Buck like Buck is the weird one here, as if Buck is the one who's chosen to make a home inside a department store display instead of living in a house like a normal person. Or, Buck trips over a clothing rack and into a sexuality crisis.