meanknae
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it’s a quarter after one, i’m a little drunk and i need you now by nwtons
Fandoms: 9-1-1 (TV)
15 Mar 2026
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“You were at the bar,” Eddie adds, confused and cold and not altogether convinced that this isn’t some sort of twisted mirage. Maybe he fell over on the way here, and is currently passed out in a random alleyway in downtown Nashville while Buck fucks a beautiful woman in a bar bathroom.
He wants to sink down to the floor with Buck, lean against the door with him until their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to foot, knock his boots against Buck’s just so he laughs and pokes at Eddie’s middle with gentle, teasing fingertips.
“I left,” Buck explains, unhelpfully.
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or: eddie leaves buck at the bar with dixie, buck leaves right after. eddie spirals, feelings are had, and they fuck nasty about itBookmarked by meanknae
16 Mar 2026
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Apparently everyone in New Mexico has a better gaydar than the rest of the continental United States combined, because Eddie's not sure so many people have ever clocked him in such a brief span of time ever. Let alone so cruelly.
There's a lot of things about himself that Eddie's sort of always known, but kept pushed away in a faraway corner of his mind. Somewhere safe, where it's out of reach. He could live a life entire pretending it isn't there, and if it rots away inside of him until it's ugly and broken, well. Even more reason to never look.
Unfortunately. His best friend in the whole world keeps making him look.
or: Buck and Eddie stop at a motel halfway through their ride back home. Eddie thinks a lot. Then he says a lot, too.
Bookmarked by meanknae
16 Mar 2026
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“Aren’t you gonna tell me all about the Mississippi river?” Eddie asks, his voice thick with warmth, almost tender.
Buck narrows his eyes. “Do you wanna hear facts about the river?”
“Buck, if you have things to say, I want to hear them.”
The sun doesn’t break through the clouds, but it’s like the sky brightens, for just a moment, burnishing highlights in Eddie’s hair and finding new flecks of color in his eyes. Buck feels heat travel down the back of his neck.
or: Two firefighters. Two thousand miles. One realization they probably should’ve had a long time ago.
Bookmarked by meanknae
15 Mar 2026
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"Eddie?" Shannon picks up on the fourth ring. "Everything okay?"
"I kissed a man," he says.
The silence on the other end stretches for nine thousand years. Eddie can hear Shannon breathing. He can hear his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs. He stares at the apartment building through his windshield, at the lit window on the fourth floor that might belong to E. Buckley, and waits for his ex-wife to say literally anything at all.
"You what?"
"I kissed a man, Shannon. Just now. I was delivering food and he opened the door and I just— I kissed him. On the mouth. And I don't know why."
Another silence. Then a sound Eddie recognizes with dawning horror as Shannon trying very, very hard to suppress a laugh.
"Shannon."
"I'm processing."
"You're laughing."
"I'm processing." She fails spectacularly. "I'm sorry, I just— you kissed a man? Edmundo Diaz? The same Edmundo Diaz who wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain with me because it made him 'uncomfortable'?"
"It did make me uncomfortable!"
"Yeah, Eddie, I'm starting to understand why."
Or,
Being kissed by your Uber Eats delivery driver? Worse things have happened.Bookmarked by meanknae
15 Mar 2026
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He stands up, because Eddie does not cower from knocks at — he checks his phone — 10:52 PM, even though every true crime podcast his abuela forwards him suggests this is exactly how people end up as a Dateline episode.
He looks through the peephole.
He blinks.
He looks again.
There is a man on his porch. Which, fine, he expected a man. What he did not expect is for the man to be — and Eddie needs a second here, because he’s processing several things simultaneously and doing a poor job with all of them — approximately six foot two, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, visibly muscular in a way that suggests either a dedicated gym routine or a genetic lottery win or both, and completely, entirely, spectacularly naked.
Except for the potted succulent he's holding in front of his crotch.
Eddie's succulent. From Eddie's porch. The one Chris named Potricia.
Or,
The odds of the universe dropping a naked man on your doorstep are low, but never zero.Bookmarked by meanknae
14 Mar 2026