#{m: buck}

[b0bbynash]

[alivedean]

911 + text posts → 10/?

[mythtakens]

9-1-1 || Star Trek TOS S1E28, The City on the Edge of Forever

[meep-meep-richie]

´´sweaty palms, saucy events, buck and tommy are thriving´´

[buck2eddie]

who could ever leave me darling / but who could stay

[plaguedpriest]

doodled my take on moxxie & millie (not a "fixing" thing, just for fun...!)

[violaobanion]

AUSTIN BUTLER as BUCK CLEVEN in MASTERS OF THE AIR (2024), part three

[kinardgo]

bucktommy / tevan prompt: drive, car/vehicle, hands

i literally cannot see the words "bucktommy" and "hands" and not instantly get weird about it so uh. sorry. if you're not into short, kinda horny oneshots. thank you for the prompt!!! <33

bucktommy / rated m / mild and implied sexual content / prompts open

-

Buck never gets out of the city, these days.

That's an over simplification, of course. Sometimes he does. Calls out of the city. Assists out of county. But it's been a long, long time since he made it out of LA for anything fun. And, this? This is fun.

The early evening has made a painting out of the North California landscape, streaming past them like so many brushstrokes. A sky in pink and lilac, trees tops in black shadow. Tommy, pretty as a picture, pretty as he always is with his hands on the wheel and his eyes forward.

Jesus, Buck has never wanted anyone so much in his life.

"You're staring."

"You're gorgeous."

Tommy huffs, but doesn't tear his eyes away from the road.

"You know I could watch you do this for hours."

"You have been watching me do this for hours," Tommy reminds him, mouth a sly smile, "Except for that powernap you took after lunch."

"You want me to take the wheel for a bit, babe?"

The same smile that always crossses Tommy's expression when Buck callshim babe appears. It's a soft little thing, but it's one of his favourite things in the world.

"Nah, there's only an hour left. Besides, I wouldn't want to deny you your favourite spectator sport."

It's true, it is. Maybe not in the way that Tommy thinks, maybe Tommy doesn't get it at all, actually. Buck likes to watch him. Watch him drive, watch him cook, watch him shave. Watch him nap on the couch after along shift, watch him comb his hair back before one. The confidence in his walk, the set of his shoulders, the surety of his hands.

His hands.

The same hands that are on the wheel that have pulled people out of burning buildings have washed Buck's hair in the shower. They've piloted helicopters, and cooked dinner for the two of them. They've patched up burns and lacerations and concussions in the field, and touched Buck the way no one else has ever quite managed.

Tommy flexes his hands, palms sure on the wheel.

Something stirs in Buck, a sense memory tucked into the joints of his wrists, the swirl of his fingerprints.

Buck stretches out in the passenger seat, a pleasant warmth settling at the base of his spine, a tingling in his gut, his fingertips, his legs.

There's a little sweat gathered in the fabric at Tommy's collar, where it's trickled down his neck. There's a drop of it tracing a faint red mark there, just under his hairline. Too faded to show any trace of what caused it, but Buck knows it was his teeth.

Buck runs a hand up his thigh absently.

"Evan," Tommy says warningly, but there's a touch of amusement in his tone, too.

"What?" he says innocently.

"You know what."

"Nope," he grins, "You look good."

"You look like a distraction."

"You can handle it."

"If I crash this car, and someone phones 911, you do realise neither one of us is ever going to live it down, right?"

He knows. He can practically see Chimney laughing his ass off already, hear Hen cackling. They gave him enough shit when a photo of Tommy appeared in his locker, a perfectly innocent picture of his boyfriend passed out cold on the couch in Buck's apartment, Jee-Yun beaming wildly into the camera after a day at a waterpark. Tommy's not wearing a shirt, because it got wet chasing Jee through a splash field. It's in Buck's locker because it's a great picture. No correlation.

"You flew a helicopter into a hurricane, I think you can manage the I5."

"You didn't have a hard on in the helicopter."

"That's what you think," Buck grins. He does now, easy and eager to go, like he's eighteen again, dick on a hairpin trigger.

"You didn't get enough this morning?" Tommy asks wryly.

This morning was slow and easy, still under the covers with the early morning light coming down on them like a blessing. Tommy's mouth on his stomach and his fingers inside of him, pulling an orgasm out of him like pulling on a loose thread - unravelling Buck into an incoherent mess.

"That was like eight hours ago-"

"It was maybe five, at an absolute push-"

"-and you just look so good sat there-"

"-I'm not doing anything!"

"-and I want you," Buck says, chest going warm at the way Tommy's mouth snaps shut and a blush starts spreading across his cheeks, "the way I always want you because you always look this good."

"We're gonna crash on the I5 and there's gonna be a pile up, and they're gonna check traffic cam footage and see that it's because I swerved into oncoming traffic, and when they ask me what happened, I'm gonna have to say it's because-"

"We're not going to crash, Tommy," Buck laughs.

"-because my boyfriend is insatiably horny," he interupts, louder, before glancing over at him. His eyes drop down to where Buck is rubbing himself through his sweats and he groans, a deep rumbling thing in his chest that makes Buck jerk helplessly in the seat, "and because he looks so good right now."

The satnav on the dash says there's still ninety minutes until they reach their destination, which is damn near an eternity. The thought of being confined in this car with Tommy, in a nice fitting t-shirt and shorts that have ridden up to expose a slither of inner thigh, for more than an hour feels impossible. Buck grinds into the heel of his palm, images of them pulled over at the side of the road, pressed together in the backseat of Tommy's old muscle car, or Buck bent over the hood, or leaning against the driver's side door with Tommy on his knees in front of him- They bomboard his imagination like firecrackers, every one of them vivid and alive like memories rather than fantasies.

Tommy's hand shoots out like a gunshot from the wheel to clasp his wrist.

He didn't realise how close he was to coming until his hand stopped moving.

"Jesus, Evan-" Tommy breaths out, his fingers like a vice, chest heaving, "You're trying to kill me."

"Whatta way to go though, huh?" Buck slurs. His hips are still twitching, even as he steps back from the precipice of orgasm. Everything is still so close, so hot, so intense. Tommy's jaw is so tight the muscle is jumping under the skin, but he lets go of Buck's wrist to lace their fingers together instead.

It's probably not the placating gesture Tommy wants it to be, not now that Buck's so worked up, not when it's Tommy's hands that have him writhing in the passenger seat of this car, Tommy's everything, really.

"Evan."

"What?"

"Quit it," he says firmly.

Buck grins, "Or what?"

"Or," Tommy says easily, "Every time I catch you, I'm adding an hour onto how long I'm making you wait when we get to the hotel."

That definitely doesn't have the desire affect, or it does. Buck can't tell over the wildfire that courses through him, caught between the desire to chase relief as soon as possible, and drag whatever game they've stumbled onto here out for as long as he can. Whatever shows on his face makes Tommy laugh, pull his hand back and put it back on the wheel.

-

(They make it to the hotel by the skin of their teeth, check in like a pair of maniacs on the run from the cops, then Tommy shows him just how serious he was about that three hour penalty by strapping his arms to the bed with his belt.)

-

(He only makes it two and a half.)

[eddiestightywhities]

Twenty-seven seconds.

Buck had counted each terrifying one of them. Those moments, between one to the next, they'd felt like entire lifetimes.

Twenty-seven seconds.

The length of time they’d held each other's steadfast gaze through the glass that separated them; he and Eddie in different rooms yet locked together in a shared, living hell.

Twenty-seven seconds.

It was how long it had taken the CDC doctors to inspect Eddie's hazmat for rips or holes as they'd checked in minute detail for any place the toxic substance could have breached the suit and reached Eddie's skin.

Twenty-seven seconds.

That's what it had taken, in the end. Barely a half-minute—not the full four, as that psychologist from New York would have the world believe.

Buck had read about it in a Big Think article one time:

‘Holding four minutes of sustained eye contact with another person is a sure-fire way to fall in love.’

There had been some other stuff in there about asking a series of tailored personal questions before beginning the looking part of the experiment, but he and Eddie already had six years worth of personal.

No two people on earth knew each other the way Eddie knew Buck and Buck knew Eddie—and although some folks would say that couldn't possibly be true, Buck didn't give a damn about a single one of them.

Twenty-seven seconds.

And Buck knew that Eddie was just as in love with him as Buck had been with Eddie for those six years they'd spent by each other's side. Or, at least, Eddie was in love with Buck now; Buck was sure of it, after the terror he'd seen in Eddie's eyes that was reflected in his own, when they’d each thought they might be about to lose the other half of themselves.

Twenty-seven seconds.

It was more than long enough, after everything they'd been through together.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Then the doctors had given Eddie the all-clear and the pair of them had burst into relieved, happy-tears.

Buck had already speed-dialled Carla (they'd taken Eddie's mobile from him) because he knew Eddie needed to hear Christopher's voice—they both did—and Buck handed the phone to Eddie as soon as the doctors let Eddie tear his way out of that awful room that Buck never wanted to see ever again for as long as he fucking lived, and they'd held back the tears as best they could, for their boy's sake, while they chatted on speakerphone just like it was any other day, about Eddie's shitty cooking and which Lego structures they were going to build when they got back home.

Because that's where they both knew Buck belonged: With Eddie and Chris. The three of them, at Casa Diaz.

Together.

Twenty-seven seconds.

That's how it began.

Twenty-seven seconds.

With those three words.

“Twenty-seven seconds... Eds, that's how long it took me to realise how stupid I've—”

It took Eddie's hands no time at all to find Buck's face and pull it down into his own, Eddie pressing his lips to Buck's and kissing twenty-seven seconds and six years of pure, unadulterated love into them.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Until they were uttering those other three words to each other, over and over again.

They cried more, and laughed about it.

Then they kissed more.

And if Buck had to hazard a guess at how long it took before Hen and Chim and Bobby were able to pull them apart, trying their best to admonish them through their fits of giggles?

Twenty-seven seconds.

Or thereabouts.

[apartmentsmoke]

the number of people who saw Tommy was surprised about Buck wanting his attention and THEN go on to say "oh it's because he thought Buck wanted Eddie's attention AND he knows Buck/Eddie have romantic feelings for each other and THAT'S why he was surprised AND Buck was just confused on his feelings and he really wants Eddie" - they are really watching with buddie goggles on. they came to one correct conclusion and then go off the rails

yes, Tommy did think Buck wanted Eddie's attention - because Eddie told him as much! Tommy goes to Buck's place immediately after he helps Eddie with his ankle, so he would have heard Eddie's take on it - that Eddie thinks Buck is jealous because Eddie and Tommy are spending so much time together. That's why Tommy starts talking about he doesn't want to interfere in their friendship; he doesn't know that Buck wanted his attention until Buck says it.

As for Tommy thinking Buck and Eddie have romantic feelings for each other... There is just straight up no evidence for that in the show lol. You want to write fic based on that assumption? Hell yeah. But thinking that's what's happening in canon is simply wrong based on what's on screen

And the third one - oh, Buck is just confused - is insulting to the story that's being told. Buck is into Tommy. Even if the relationship ends, he will always have been into Tommy. He told Tommy himself, he told Maddie, he told Eddie - he acted like someone with an enormous crush because he has an enormous crush! And trying to erase that because it doesn't work with your view for your ship is

That's also why all the speculation that Tommy is going to step aside because of how close Buck and Eddie are is ridiculous - he already knows how close they are, and he doesn't seem to care.

[b0bbynash]

uncle buck ^-^

[devilsbrokerank]

5x14 / 6x01 / 6x12 / 6x13 IT’S HAPPENING

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

hi hello for drunken love confessions prompts 16 "This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams we're usually kissing." if anything comes to yooou 💘💘💘

hiii my love thank you SO much for this prompt, it brought me joy when i really needed it, and im sorry it took me so long asdfghjkl

drunk love confessions prompts : "This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams we’re usually kissing."

you fill my head with you | 22K | buddie drunk love confession | ao3

And then everything winded down, their friends decided to turn in and head home. Him and Eddie were the last to leave, and he–

He stumbled out of the bar right beside Eddie. He–Oh god, he threw himself all over Eddie. He flirted. He–he told Eddie that–

Buck’s hand stills, the toothbrush lying on his tongue with dead weight, uncomfortable and somewhat annoying, but Buck can’t even think about that because he fucking told Eddie that he dreams about them kissing.

What the fuck?

What the actual, horrible, unholy fuck?

Buck has to leave.

He needs to find a deep, dark hole to climb inside. Bury himself so that he can never come out.

He told Eddie he dreams about them kissing.

He can never see Eddie again for as long as he lives and that’s such a terrifying, heartbreaking, impossible thought, but that’s the way it has to be.

or, a night of drinking leads to buck confessing his feelings to eddie and they are both very stupid about it

read on ao3

[meep-meep-richie]

we get them back this month!!

[buck2eddie]

[dangerpronebuddie]

Blood On My Shirt (Heart In My Hand) 10k

"I'll go find him," Buck says, ruffling Chris' hair as he skips away. "Eds!" Buck calls. "If you don't get back here, Chim's gonna steal your cake. It's not great cake but you'll still pout about it." He rounds the corner... And his heart falls at his feet. Eddie lay face down on the floor, a pool of red growing around him and shining in the sunlight from the open doors.

[read on ao3]

For @badthingshappenbingo and for @monsterrae1 's Spooktober week 1