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It’s the technical end of BuckTommy Angst Week 2025, but have no fear because everything will still be open, so if you need and or want to post something late totally okay!
Thank you so much to everyone who participated, I loved everything that you came up with and I can’t wait to go back a reread to make myself feel sad with all of y’all’s beautiful work!
If people want, I’m definitely open to running another angst week in the future.
Until another time,
Via 🩷
^^(link to ao3)
Summary: After years of struggle, Buck and Tommy are about to welcome their son into the world! (And.. the struggles continue.)
Tags: Near Death Experiences, Mpreg I Male Pregnancy, Infertility, Postpartum Hemorrhage, Blood, Childbirth, Newborn Health Scare, Angst with a Happy Ending
Note: This is my final fic inspired by the @bucktommyangstweek prompts from a couple weeks ago 🖤
(Apparently, I don’t know how long a week is supposed to be.. or that the days are meant to be consecutive.)
At long last, my very late contribution to @bucktommyangstweek Day Seven.
Prompt: Near Death Experiences
Rated M
4307 words
TW: blood and injuy
They’re on the roof of a high rise keeping things uncomfortably professional as Buck helps load a patient into Tommy’s helicopter when an explosion from one of the lower floors sends the building cascading down.
The world falls away, rumbling apart, blue sky vanishing behind a wall of broken concrete and twisted rebar.
The last thing Buck sees before he lands on his back and blacks out completely is Tommy’s face covered in blood.
#
He comes to with a groan, blinking, but there’s no light.
Buck fumbles at his chest until he finds the light strapped to his chest.
It’s not much, but it’s enough to get some idea of his situation. “Tommy?” he calls out, managing to roll onto his stomach. Pain twinges through his neck which is probably a bad side, but he can focus on that later, once he’s found Tommy.
He angles his light, trying to get a handle on the situation.
Buck’s honestly not sure how he’s alive.
Or how long he’s likely to stay that way.
link to ao3^^
Belatedly, for @bucktommyangstweek 🖤
Chapter-specific tags: Tommy POV, bucktommy, car accident, major character death (go to ‘end notes’ on ao3 - if you want to know details before deciding to read), hospitalization, bedside, angst, grieving firefam.
written for Day Six of @bucktommyangstweek
Prompt: Bedside Vigil
Rated M
1720 words
TW: Cancer, homophobia, homophobic slurs
Honestly, Tommy’s not sure what he’s doing here.
Midnight.
Listening to the whoosh of oxygen being forced through a nasal canula.
The beep of monitors.
The subtle drip of morphine in his father’s IV.
Tommy’s not sure why he came in the first place, considering that the last time he spoke to his father it ended in Tommy being called every slur for a gay man under the sun.
Tommy didn’t even know Dad was sick until his aunt called to let him know.
“You don’t have to see him,” she said. “I know he’s an asshole and I’m not expecting you to forgive him for everything he put you through or any of that kumbaya bullshit, but if you have any unfinished business with the bastard, you’d better finish it soon.”
Tommy stares at his father’s face.
It’s kind of like looking through a twisted mirror, seeing himself in forty years. If he lives that long.
Which, jury’s definitely out on that one given all the dangerous shit he keeps getting dragged into. Okay, who’s he kidding? He jumps headfirst into the danger, just like Evan. It’s a miracle either of them lived long enough to meet, let alone that they’ve been able to build a life together, a marriage, a family. Though both Tommy and Evan are better about the risks they take now that they're parents.
For @bucktommyangstweek Day Five: Missing in Action
Rated T
4087 words
Buck swats Maddie’s hand away as she fiddles with his boutonniere for the bazillionth time. “Maddie, leave it. It’s fine.” Nerves twist in his gut. He wishes they were just wedding jitters, but his instincts are screaming that there’s something wrong. Something he’s missing. “Is Tommy here yet?” He should be here by now and it’s getting to the point where traffic can’t explain how late he is.
Maddie scowls at him. “Not yet. I’ve tried calling Chimney and Lucy but neither of them are picking up.
The nerves in Buck’s stomach intensify. “Is it just me or is this reminding you of your wedding when we lost Chim.”
Maddie sighs. “Don’t remind me.” And then she gives him a comforting smile and says. “They probably just hit traffic or something. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Buck nods, trying to believe, his sister because he so does not want his gut to be right about its insistence that something is very, very wrong. Because this always happens. Every time he feels like things are finally going well, like his life is on track and stable, something happens to upend his reality and he really doesn’t need that happening on the day he’s supposed to be marrying the love of his life.
“Okay,” Maddie says, clearly sensing that Buck hasn’t been placated by her words. “Let’s check “Find My Friend” and see where he’s at.”
Buck fishes his phone out of his suit pocket, hands shaking so much that once he’s unlocked it with his thumbprint he passes it to Maddie to ping Tommy’s phone through the app. He watches her face on the lookout for every minute shift in expression.
She frowns.
“What?” Bucks asks, grabbing his phone back. “Where is he?” He squints down at the screen. “Harbor?” Why would Tommy go to work on his wedding day? Unless –
Buck tries not to spiral, he really does, but the fact that his fiancé is a bona fide runner doesn’t help to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay. Because what if Tommy’s gotten cold feet? What if, instead of talking to Buck about his fears like a normal person, he just decided to leave on their wedding day, to literally fly to coop?
Buck’s heartrate ticks up a notch.
His breathing feels tight.
Now is absolutely not the time to panic though.
He grabs his keys from the dresser and leaves the suite the venue set aside for him to get ready.
“Where are you going?” Maddie trails behind him, hiking up the long skirt of her sister-of-the-groom dress, because as much as Buck’s relationship with his parents had improved over the years it didn’t feel right for them to walk him down the aisle, so he chose Maddie instead.
“To find my husband,” Buck pulls his suit jacket off and replaces it with his LAFD bomber jacket. Because he’s not going to let Tommy run away, not without a damn good explanation.
tagging @unhingedangstaddict since you seemed interested.
He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want distractions, he doesn’t want things to occupy him; he wants his fiancè to sit up in that godforsaken bed, to push the sheets down and stand up and press a kiss to Evan’s lips and hold him and tell him, in that honey-warm voice, we’re okay, mi tesoro, like he does. That’s all that Buck wants.
@bucktommyangstweek days 6 and 7 - bedside vigil & nde T | buck/tommy | 4.5k
read on ao3.
part two out now! @bucktommyangstweek <3
@bucktommyangstweek Day 7: Near Death Experience
@bucktommyangstweek Day 6: Bedside Vigil
He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want distractions, he doesn’t want things to occupy him; he wants his fiancè to sit up in that godforsaken bed, to push the sheets down and stand up and press a kiss to Evan’s lips and hold him and tell him, in that honey-warm voice, we’re okay, mi tesoro, like he does. That’s all that Buck wants.
@bucktommyangstweek days 6 and 7 - bedside vigil & nde T | buck/tommy | 2.4k so far
part one out now | part two coming soon
@bucktommyangstweek day 7 (swapping with 6): bedside vigil
Chapter 7 & 8 below or here on ao3
[wc: 2381]
Horrifying.
That’s not the word, not really, for what Chimney sees when he runs toward the clearing. It’s something that can't be named so easily, not with one simple word.
It starts with a call from Athena – an echo of a cry for help, hours after twisted metal was found, wrapped around a tree in the woods. Time on a trail, long gone and cold, pieces of a puzzle already too shattered to fit back together.
By the time they arrive, it’s almost too late.
The sound of Bobby’s name – a whispering roar in the wilderness – will haunt Chimney's dreams forever. Of that, he’s certain.
When his feet carry him the last of the way, twigs and vines underfoot putting up barriers that feel like time lost in a sea of precious moments, his heart nearly stops.
Buck, head bleeding, voice raw, tears streaking down his face with fractured sobs. His arms pressing into Tommy’s chest in a rhythm Chimney knows too well. Tommy, a broken shell of the man who usually walks through life with laughter in his eyes and jokes at the ready.
But now, there’s no cracks of humor, no quips to push away the suffering. Just the quiet stillness of the forest and the faintest sign of life – the shallow breath Buck tries to force into Tommy’s chest.
“Buck!” Chim shouts, taking off in a desperate sprint. He drops to his knees beside Buck, hands trembling as they press into Buck’s, blood already staining his palms before he even realizes it. “I got it. I got him.”
It takes another thirteen minutes to break through the trees, four more before Tommy’s heart starts beating on its own. Seventeen miles to the closest trauma center. Even with a helicopter, they don’t waste time talking, no banter shared between breaks in the chaos, no compliments on flawless execution of their efforts, only focused urgency.
They collect the members of the 118 and their families like seashells, fragile and worn gathering at the hospital, the same chairs, the same sterile air they’ve been surrounded by so many times before. Waiting. Wondering.
A habitual entertaining of the reaper of death, here to play another round of Russian roulette with their lives. The siren song of the hospital calls them back time and time again, and they have no control against its melody, their souls next up in line on any given day of sacrifice.
Written for @bucktommyangstweek, Day 7: Near Death Experiences (Tw: blood, gunshot wounds)
It’s amazing, Tommy muses, how everyone always thinks they still have time. Until they don’t. Death is the only thing in life that’s certain. You usually don’t know when it’s going to happen. You can prepare yourself. But it’s still going to hit you unexpectedly.
Tommy always thought he would crash his helicopter.
Into a forest or the ocean, maybe. Thought he would fall from the sky and explode on the ground. Not a nice way to go. But fast. At least.
He never thought he would get shot. Didn’t see it coming either.
One moment, he was nervous about meeting his ex on the scene of an accident, and the other one of the guys they were trying to get out of a couple of wrecked sports cars - looked like they were doing some kind of illegal race - pulled out a gun and.
Bang.
Tommy winced.
Title: Never Had a Chance
Pairing: Buck/Tommy
Rating: T
Written for day four of @bucktommyangstweek: on the job accident.
Contains: trans!buck, miscarriage
Summary:
Written for @bucktommyangstweek, Day 6: Bedside Vigils (Spoilers for season 8 episode 11)
“Hey, Tommy. Sorry, I'm late today. I was a bit busy.
I tried something new. My therapist suggested that. Said an activity that includes taking care of something might help me with, with the restlessness and the overthinking.
So I started to build a little garden. It’s not much. Yet. Just a beet for vegetables, berries, and a few pots for flowers. But it’s fun. I’m getting excited about seeing everything grow. I mean, hopefully, it grows. If I don’t mess it up.
I’m most excited for the strawberries. Going to bake a cake for you when they’re ripe. You have to be awake to eat it though.
I know you ... you needed a lot of rest. So that your body can heal. But you can wake up anytime now, okay?
Please.
Tommy. Please wake up.”
short fics (≤500 words) written as part of @bucktommyangstweek.
if you read along this week: thank you so much! if you're just catching up: have fun! YAY ANGST!
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total word count: 3.5k; status: complete tags: no archive warnings apply; specific cw's at each link notes: these are all standalone stories, and take place in various states of together/broken up/working on it.
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notes: broken-up bucktommy, hopeful ending. not exactly an 8x11 coda, but building off those ~themes. 500 words.
these will all be up on the ao3 later today. thank you so much for reading and sharing this week!!!! damn, what a week 🫠
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"Seven years never meeting on calls, not even after breaking up, and now we're buried alive under a parking lot."
Crews are digging them out, but they're surrounded by cement and asphalt and at least one car, all slowly robbing their oxygen and crushing them to death. Just them. Just the two of them.
Maybe they don't need the crew overhead; maybe Buck's anger will vibrate everything around them to pieces and free them.
"Tommy, we don't have a lot of oxygen. If you're going to talk, say something."
There's silence, except for the work overhead.
"Tell me something true," Buck says.
Tommy's quiet for so long that Buck checks he didn't actually suffocate in silence. He hasn't, but the silence might suffocate them faster.
"Do you think you could ever love me?" Tommy asks.
Buck startles and jostles some debris around them. He swears under his breath and takes his time thinking. Every breath counts.
"I already do." Buck thinks. "Do you actually want a partner?"
Tommy's head whips up, more debris scattering. "You think—"
"You tell me something true," Buck snaps.
And then he waits. And Tommy takes his time.
Tommy says, every word carefully laid down: "Yes, but I don't know how to keep you."
Buck stares ahead. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Every time he fucks up with Tommy, says or does the wrong thing, his heartbeat takes up that rhythm. Love-me-a-ny-way. Can't Tommy hear it?
"Stop running from me," Buck says.
Tommy's eyes are wide and haunted, like he's searching the entire lexicon of words for what to say. He still has something to say.
"I don't think I can do this."
Buck ducks his head, tries not to crumble, even if it would solve everyone's problems overhead.
Tommy adds, "This feels like peeling off my skin with a knife, and I don't know if I can do that every day, hoping you'll stay."
"You can't… be yourself?"
Their eyes meet for the first time. Tommy says, "I know you won't like him."
"You don't know that." Buck's just—angry again. Through clenched teeth he says: "You think you know what I want. You don't listen to me. You give me something I might want. But it's not real. It's not you."
Buck doesn't care; he rubs his glove across his face, streaks it with more dirt. "Being with someone… but not being someone. What's the point?"
Their voices and words have been so quiet, careful, stunted, blunt, hard. Who cares? They're gonna die anyway.
"Do you think that's why I'm alone?" Tommy asks. "People knock and think it's empty?"
Buck silently meets his eyes. Tommy nods.
Suddenly, there's a huge groan above them. The biggest asphalt slab shifts, lets in moonlight and night air.
Buck grabs Tommy's hand. "Leave it here. All of it. Take it off. Leave it."
"I'm scared, Evan."
"Now you're scared?" Tommy can't help laughing. Buck squeezes his hand. "You make me brave. I'll make you brave, too."
