#bucklara

💙 There's More to 9-1-1 Than One Ship

Hey everyone! 💙

I've decided to create something fun—a sort of fan club, if you want to call it that—for all of us who absolutely love 9-1-1 but aren't Buddie shippers. 😊

First of all, this isn't meant to be anti-Buddie in any way. Buddie fans already have an amazing, supportive, and incredibly active community, and I'm genuinely happy they have a place where they can celebrate what they love. ❤️

But I've also realized that those of us who enjoy different ships, different dynamics, and different interpretations of the show often don't really have a place to gather. Sometimes it can feel like our voices simply get lost, even though we love this show just as much.

So... I thought, why not build one ourselves? ✨

I've put together a page that serves as a little hub for everything related to my 9-1-1 universe—my fanfictions, essays, analyses, meta posts, and all the thoughts I've shared about the series over the years.

But I'd also love for it to become something more: a meeting place for fans who simply enjoy looking at 9-1-1 from a different perspective. 💙

To make things fun, I even created four "teams" (think of them like Hogwarts Houses 🏰😄), each centered around one of my favorite ships. It's all completely lighthearted! If you're new to my stories and don't know the pairings yet, you can simply pick the team that includes your favorite character—or just whichever one feels right to you.

This is really just the beginning.

I'm tagging a few people who I think might be interested. Maybe you'll want to join, maybe not—and that's totally okay! ❤️

If you like the idea, feel free to reblog this post, share it, or invite other fans who might enjoy having another corner of the fandom.

My dream isn't to compete with anyone.

My dream is simply to build a welcoming community where people who love 9-1-1 in different ways can meet, talk, analyze episodes, share fanfiction, participate in watch parties, meta discussions, games, contests, creative challenges, and whatever fun ideas we come up with together. 🥰

I'm always open to suggestions, too! If you have ideas for events or activities, I'd absolutely love to hear them.

Every fandom is stronger when there's room for different voices. 💙

If you've ever felt like you were a little "outside the mainstream" but still love this show with all your heart, then maybe you've just found your people.

Everyone is welcome aboard. 🚢✨

Let's build something special together. 💙

GIF set by emziess

Evan Buckley - Eddie Diaz

from the way I conceived the song in my mind, you can imagine that I dedicate it to them, but also May to Eddie and Elara to Buck.

A hundred candles set the mood A thousand reflections in your eyes Across every muscle of your back — and over us The warm wind of this evening Carries the sweet scent of orchids

The movement already binding us Is like a rising tide Lifting us higher Higher than you ever thought we’d go

As you move your hips against mine

Let yourself be loved Do it the way you know how Without limits, without shame Don’t hold back — love me like this Inside a single shiver, a hundred meters above the ground

Let yourself be loved Let yourself be wanted For as long as it lasts Until the very last rush, yeah

Want me to light you a cigarette? I’ll take one drag, then pass it to you But your warm hand still reaches for me Checkmate

Because you’re so beautiful And you don’t even know it More beautiful than the gods

As you move your hips against mine

Let yourself be loved Use all your words Don’t stop now — love me like this Inside a single shiver, a hundred meters above the ground

Let yourself be desired All the way through And tell me one more time Say yes

I feel you there You give me That vibration The one that feels right

I feel you going Beyond every limit Chained to me

So I look at you and confess — Now that it’s us We are the proof That paradise exists

Let yourself be loved Let go of your fears Don’t hold back — love me like this Inside a single shiver, a hundred meters above the ground

Let yourself be wanted Without limits, without shame Let yourself be carried To that place

Where for me And for you There’s one last dizzying fall

On April 30th, 9-1-1 episode 9x17, “I Got You Babe,” aired in the US… and back on March 27th, when i write the Chapter 38 (“Desert Bloom”) of my fanfiction Unscheduled, I was already exploring—without even knowing it—the theme of Buck and fatherhood. Or rather… his desire for it. His need for it 🥺✨

My context was different, of course.

In Chapter 31 (“La Notte delle Masche”), almost like a classic Halloween-style “supernatural moment,” a “witch” reads tarot cards for some of them—Eddie, Harry, and Buck 👀🔮 And as the story unfolds, those predictions slowly come true.

Buck’s reading said: “You will see the dust of the road and the green of life. A long journey awaits you. In the silence of nature, you will discover what you weren’t looking for: a small flower forgotten among the rocks.”

And that’s exactly what happens.

In the chapter mentioned above, Buck ends up traveling through the Mojave Desert—and fate leads him to rescue a little girl: Iris 🤍

(The name isn’t random. “Iris” literally means “the one who announces”—a messenger of Zeus and Hera, traveling on rainbows 🌈✨)

After taking care of her for almost two days, she’s finally ready to return to her family…

But she leaves something behind in him. A realization.

One that comes to life in this dialogue at the end of the chapter… 👀✨

“Unscheduled” - AO3

Chapter 38: Desert Bloom extract

They remained in silence for several minutes. But it was a full silence, laden with emotions. Elara felt the tension in Buck’s muscles and perceived his thoughts racing beneath that calm. She knew that silence well: it was the signal that Evan was arriving at one of his great insights, the moment where he set aside impulsivity to become more reflective.

She turned slightly in his arms, meeting his bright gaze.

"I knew you were mulling over something," she said with a knowing half-smile.

Buck burst into a short, dry laugh—the same one he gave whenever he was caught thinking too much. He scratched the back of his neck, an almost childish gesture that showed his amused embarrassment.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, pulling her close again.

"Just a little bit, Evan."

He sighed, looking at the embers.

"It’s just… I don't know, Elara. Am I the only one who finds all of this incredibly synchronous, perfect? Think about it. Our trip here: the reason we left right now. Your grandmother is waiting for the exact moment, knowing you would be ready for this house only now. And while we’re here, in the middle of nowhere, this little girl appears. And her name… her name is an announcement. And everything connects to what that woman told me at Halloween. Don’t you find it all absurd? Wouldn’t you feel shaken?"

Elara watched him for a long time, her eyes reflecting the dance of the fire. There was no trace of agitation in her, only an ancestral calm.

"Yes, I suppose it is, if you try to look at it with the logic of 'why.' But you see, Evan, I’ve learned not to fret. I’ve learned that when something isn't a coincidence, it simply isn't."

She shrugged, turning slightly in his arms to see him better.

"When things arrive so perfectly, they must be taken as such. It’s the natural cycle. The picture is always much larger than what we can see. Trying to understand it when we don't have the means is just wasting energy. I let things happen. When the pieces fit perfectly, it’s because they were meant to be exactly like that. Without effort. Without forcing."

Buck remained quiet, metabolizing those words. Elara’s philosophy was a balm for his soul, perpetually in search of answers, but there was one thought pressing harder than the others. A thought born from that same "naturalness" she spoke of. He cleared his throat, feeling his heart beat against his ribs.

"Listen…," he began, with a tone that made Elara raise an eyebrow at his sudden seriousness. "I wanted to ask you something. Maybe it seems like it has nothing to do with anything, but… when we’re together, well, the only precaution we take is a condom, right? I just wanted to know if, besides that, you take anything else."

Elara looked at him for a moment with a confused expression, caught off guard by the logical leap.

"No," she replied truthfully, studying his profile. "I don't take anything. I’ve never believed in it for myself. I believe unquestioningly in the cycles of nature; you see it too. Altering my biology, my hormonal balance… it never felt right to me. I want to be what nature leads me to be, for better or worse. I’m fine with that. But why are you asking me now?"

Buck took a deep breath, feeling like he was about to jump into a ravine without a parachute, but with the strange certainty that he wouldn't get hurt.

"Exactly because of what you said," he replied, turning to look her in the eyes. "If nothing happens by chance, if everything is part of a perfect design decided by the cosmos or whoever… then I wonder who we are to obstruct it. I won’t deny it to you, Elara. In my heart, I’ve always known that one day I would want a child. A family of my own. It’s a certainty I’ve always had inside me, like a fixed point on the horizon. But I never lucidly formulated the when."

He made a vague gesture toward the darkness. "I watched my sister, I watched the others around me start their lives, and I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn't think: 'Oh god, when is it my turn?' It was a desire in limbo, sure, but distant. But now… now that we are here… I wonder: why hasn't it happened yet? Why wait?"

Elara opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it, the flow of words now unstoppable.

"It’s not just about Iris. It’s not just the fact that taking care of her came so naturally to us, as if we were programmed to do it together. It’s realizing that since we’ve been here, you’ve given me so much… we are exactly this. I’ve spent my life looking for someone to be there for, but I never realized I had a desperate need for someone to be there for me. I focused so much on being the one who saves and protects, that I forgot that I, too, need to be saved and protected once in a while."

His voice cracked slightly, laden with a truth he had never admitted even to himself. "And between us, this thing is reciprocal. It’s natural. We didn't have to say it or solemnly promise it before doing it. It just happens. I have arrived exactly at the place where I always hoped to be, without knowing if it would ever truly exist. And now that I am here, Elara, I wonder why we should obstruct the natural course of events?"

The silence that followed was broken only by the crackle of a log snapping. Elara stared at him, her breath held, struck by the force of that speech.

"And so… what exactly are you asking me, Evan?"

"I’m asking you if we are ready—why wait?" he said, leaning toward her. "Let's not set limits on providence. Let’s let it take us wherever we’ll arrive. Whatever the journey, I want to take it with you, without barriers."

Elara gave an incredulous laugh, shaking her head.

"You know it’s like getting in the car without a GPS, right? Without a map. Just following instinct, letting the roads guide us and nothing else."

"Maybe it’s not the most rational thing to do," Buck countered with a tired but bright smile. "But look at me. Where has it gotten me, at all costs, seeking a direction? I tried. I tried to understand who I was, I embraced my sexuality, my evolution… and I’m happy with those steps forward in my awareness. I’ve talked to you about it. You know how important it was for me to accept myself. But, if I look outside, concretely, I’ve never moved. I’ve discovered so much of what I have inside, but outside, I’ve stayed in the same spot. I want to start building something real. Something of our own."

Elara took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her skin was cool, her grip firm.

"In truth, I am ready for this journey, Evan. I think I’ve been ready since… not since the first time I saw you, maybe that would be too much, but certainly since you took me to the botanical garden. And especially after the lake. Do you remember when we went skinny-dipping and had that first kiss? I think I’ve known it since that day."

Her eyes shone with a new light, a fragility she rarely showed.

"You can't explain how two souls find each other and know it immediately. The greatest gift you could give me tonight is to say out loud what I feel deep down but have never dared to hope for. You always see me calm and confident, but the truth is I tend to expect the worst. If you expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed, right? It’s my way of protecting myself."

Buck felt a wave of love so powerful it took his breath away. There was no need for further explanations, more proof of destiny, or interpretations of ancient names. The answer was there, in the way their hands fit perfectly, as if they had been cast from the same mold.

He took her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her high cheekbones, and looked at her as if she were the only solid thing in a universe of shadows. There were no more doubts, nor the fear of the future, nor the weight of the past. There was only that moment, that dying fire, and a door opening wide toward the unknown.

He kissed her.

It was a kiss that resembled no other. It wasn't just passion, it wasn't just comfort. It was a seal. It was the signature on a pact that went beyond time and space. In that contact, Buck communicated to her everything that words could not contain: his promise to stay, his desire to create a life together, his total surrender to that destiny that had brought them there, among the dust and rocks of the desert.

28 years later

Eden Buckley always wrote with the window open.

Even now, when the traffic below had thickened into a constant electric hum, she kept it raised. She wasn’t chasing fresh air. She was chasing the pulse of the city. The distant sirens. The sharp rise of someone shouting. Laughter spilling out of a bar. The quiet dramas of ordinary people unfolding block by block.

If she couldn’t hear the world, she said, her words dried out. Lost their blood.

She sat at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee long gone cold beside a stack of sociology essays and dog-eared novels. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in deliberate disarray, and her eyes—bright blue, sharp, restless—were fixed on her laptop screen.

At twenty-seven, Eden carried a restless current under her skin. She never accepted the first version of anything. Not a quote. Not a report. Not an official statement.

Tonight, she was refining an investigative piece that cut deep into questionable hospital contracts—deals that had left low-income neighborhoods without adequate care during winter surges. It wasn’t convenient. It wasn’t polite.

It was necessary.

She had her father’s boldness, his almost reckless instinct to run toward the fire—but beneath it, she carried the empathy Elara had woven into her from infancy, reading stories at her bedside, teaching her that every statistic had a face.

For Eden, writing was protection. It was how she turned pain into truth.

Her phone buzzed against the counter. She smiled before she even looked at it.

Jee-Yun.

A seven older. Cousin by blood. Sister by choice.

“Tell me you’re not picking wedding flowers without me, Jee,” Eden said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear without pausing her typing. “You know my taste is superior.”

“Too late, reporter,” Jee-Yun replied, her voice layered over the background crackle of a police radio. Even after years on patrol, there was still something kinetic in her tone—controlled, but alive. “But you can still save me from choosing invitations. Jack says they’re all fine. Jack is a simple man. He’d be happy if it just said ‘There will be food’ on printer paper.”

Eden laughed, finally leaning back in her chair.

“I’ll come by after I finish this paragraph. Do not let him pick anything beige.”

“I’m waiting. And Eden… try not to make too many enemies with that article. Dad said Mom’s worried because you haven’t answered her texts.”

“I’m working,” Eden said lightly. “Tell her I’m fine.”

When she ended the call, the apartment door burst open with the unmistakable force of a familiar storm.

Buck entered the kitchen like he always had—like weather that never fully learned restraint. His Fire Academy jacket was slung over one shoulder, his grin still wide enough to fill a room.

Retirement had never been an option. Training new cadets was his way of passing the flame forward, making sure the spirit of the 118 never burned out.

“Hey, bug,” he called, brushing past her to press a kiss into her hair. “Still tilting at windmills?”

“They’re not windmills, Dad. They’re corrupt giants. And I have a very sharp keyboard.”

He huffed a laugh.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

There was no real fear in his voice. Just pride.

He glanced at her screen, nodding once in approval.

“Your mom’s at the bookstore. Said that first edition you were hunting for finally came in. The one about early Los Angeles zoning laws.”

Eden’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been waiting months for that.”

She hesitated. “Jee said Aunt May’s anxious because I haven’t answered.”

Buck raised a brow. “Your aunt does not get anxious over ‘a few messages.’ Not when she runs the entire 911 dispatch floor. Text her back. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Later—after allowing her father to restock her pantry with items he considered essential and she still wasn’t entirely sure how to cook—they left the apartment together and split off at the corner.

Eden headed toward the bookstore.

The scent of aged paper and fresh coffee wrapped around her like memory.

Elara still carried that same quiet grace. That depth in her gaze that had steadied Buck decades ago. She was rearranging a row of hardcovers when Eden stepped in.

They exchanged a smile that needed no explanation.

“Your father says you haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Elara said, stepping down from the ladder with a book in hand.

“I was writing. When the story calls, I forget about food.” Eden rolled her eyes gently. “Don’t worry. He already solved it. My kitchen looks like a survival bunker.”

Elara’s smile softened.

Eden perched on the same stool she’d sat on as a child while her mother read aloud to her between customers.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s too much,” Eden admitted quietly. “This need to know everything. To dig until there’s nothing left. Maybe it’s… excessive.”

Elara stepped closer and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

“It’s your gift,” she said. “You don’t write to inform. You write to protect. That’s what we’ve always done—in different ways. You took your father’s courage and braided it with the sensitivity I found in books.”

She brushed a strand of hair from Eden’s face.

“You are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

The weight in Eden’s chest eased.

Later, walking back through a Los Angeles that never really slept, she moved with purpose. Her backpack heavy with notes. Her phone filled with recorded interviews that hadn’t yet made it into transcripts.

When she closed her apartment door behind her, the window was still open. The city still breathing.

Her thoughts drifted—inevitably—to the man who would walk through that door in the morning.

She smiled to herself, then forced her focus back to the present.

There was work to finish.

She crossed the living room, switched on her desk lamp, and sat down.

.•♫•♬• ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ •♬•♫•.

Evan Buckley 🤍

what if love isn’t one person… but every version of you that tried to hold onto it? 🖤

Evan Buckley is a mess of feelings he never really learned how to name. Too much heart. Too fast. Too deep.

And sometimes? He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for— only that he can’t stop searching. ✨

To the notes of “Cercasi Amore” — Gatto Panceri (yes, that kind of aching, searching love), this one-shot follows Buck through every version of love he thought was the right one:

Abby. Ali. Taylor. Tommy.

…and then—

someone without a name. without a face.

just a feeling.

👉 but you HAVE to read it with the song playing trust me, it changes everything 🎧✨

Because maybe love isn’t about who you choose. Maybe it’s about what finally stays.

✨ welcome to the heart of Evan Buckley and all the ways it learned to love

Evan Buckley x Elara Vance

#Bucklara

Never forget these sacred words Drying in the sun

We’ll love each other, you’ll see I know it, you know it Deep down, what else is love?

I know it, you know it.

All the good you give to me I carry it inside And then I give it back to you

I know it, you know it We’ll never lose each other

Not even if I leave someday Not even when I die

These are things I know These are things you know But keep repeating them Never get tired of saying them

How many doubts I have How many doubts you have

Come on, let’s talk about them now And they’ll melt away

I know it, you know it That loyalty between us Should never feel like a prison

But a choice of harmony

I give, you give The balance isn’t always there

But the war will end In a perfect tie

I know this beard of mine Pricks your skin a little If you come close I’ll shave it, I promise

But how long do you stay In that bathroom, my God?

And then you get mad If I do the same

But I know it, you know it The flaws that I have The flaws that you have They won’t ever really change

I know it, you know it I’d make love to you Every time you want Every time you’re here

Never forget these sacred words Drying in the sun

We’ll love each other, you’ll see I know it, you know it

Deep down What else is love?

Two months later. Same world. New Flames.

This time, the story shifts. Buck and Elara step into the fire, and the question becomes brutal:

can you rise from the ashes stronger than before… or will love be the thing that finally destroys you?

Meanwhile, Eddie and May remain the steady ground — the safe place, the constant — their own journey moving forward, one quiet step at a time.

The aftermath starts now. 🔥 This is 𝘼𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 the sequel to 𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨.

Elara Vance: The Origin of a Perfect Match for Evan Buckley

I didn’t set out to create Elara Vance as “the perfect partner.” She became that on her own.

At the core, Elara was born from a question: what kind of person does Buck actually need? Not in terms of gender, not in terms of labels—but in terms of essence. Who can meet him where he is, in every version of himself, without forcing him into a fixed role?

That’s where everything started.

Beyond Labels, Beyond Roles

In my mind, Elara is technically written as heterosexual—but that detail almost becomes irrelevant. What defines her isn’t orientation, it’s fluidity. A kind of emotional and relational freedom that exists outside of labels.

She doesn’t define herself with words like bohemian, hippie, witchy, artsy, or vegan—even if, from the outside, people might try to place her into those boxes. She simply exists as she is. She doesn’t explain herself, doesn’t categorize herself, and most importantly, doesn’t need to.

And she offers that same freedom to Buck.

She never asks him to define himself either.

The Yin and Yang of Them

What I really ended up exploring through them is a constant, living balance—something close to what you might call Great Yin and Great Yang. Not as rigid gender roles, but as shifting energies.

Strength and softness. Action and stillness. Protection and vulnerability.

There are moments where Buck is the fragile one, and Elara is the one holding him together. And then it flips. Naturally. Effortlessly. Without either of them questioning it.

That’s the key: nothing is assigned. Nothing is expected.

They just move.

Rewriting the Narrative

One of the clearest examples of this dynamic shows up in a later chapter I’ve written (far ahead of where the story currently is). I took a theme that’s often portrayed in a very gendered way—sexual harassment—and flipped it.

Instead of placing the woman in the role of shame and the man in the role of protector, I reversed the emotional structure. And what came out of it wasn’t just a “twist”—it was a deeper look into how these roles are learned, expected, and rarely questioned.

With Buck and Elara, those expectations don’t hold.

And that’s what makes them work.

From Old Elara to New Elara

The first version of Elara—the one from an older storyline (Flames, Ashes, The Sisterhood Beyond the Jeans, Embers) —was very different. She was softer in a more traditional sense, more dependent, closer to the classic “she needs saving” archetype.

But as I grew, so did she.

In this current version (Unscheduled), Elara doesn’t need saving. She chooses. She stands on her own, fully aware of who she is, even if she never puts that identity into words.

And instead of removing balance, that independence creates it.

Loving Without Conditions

What makes Elara “perfect” for Buck isn’t perfection at all. It’s the absence of barriers.

She doesn’t love a version of him—she loves all of him.

The fun Buck.

The hero Buck.

The lost, searching Buck.

The version of him that still needs care, reassurance, grounding.

And because she makes space for all of that, he never has to perform. He never has to explain himself. He never has to fit into something smaller just to be understood.

And he gives that same freedom back to her.

Why She Feels Canon to Me

At some point along the way, Elara stopped feeling like an “original character” and started feeling… inevitable.

Like she had always belonged there.

And now, after everything I’ve written and explored through them, I genuinely can’t imagine Buck with anyone else. Not because other interpretations are wrong—but because this one feels complete to me.

A Quiet Thank You

This isn’t meant to start debates or draw lines. It’s just a late-night thought I wanted to share—about creation, about growth, and about how sometimes characters take shape in ways you didn’t plan, but end up meaning more than you expected.

And honestly? The fact that Elara has resonated with readers—that some of you see her as part of the story in such a real way—that means everything to me.