#buddie fic shit

[absolutelybifurious]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz

thank youuuu!

i was gonna do the new thing i'm working on but i am still figuring out the beginning stages and couldn't decide on an actual tease that didn't give everything away so have this from the other thing i've been writing for, you know, ever

His body rams into Eddie, nearly knocks him back, before Buck gets his hands on Eddie’s hips to pull him closer. It knocks the hat off his head, onto the ground at their feet. Apparently, Buck’s gotten the steps down, but not the direction. And Eddie drops his head against Buck’s shoulder to muffle his laughter, and it’s a vibration, this churn that ignites Buck’s blood. “Eddie,” Buck whispers, laugh half-dead in his throat. “I-I think it’s too crowded in here.” “It’s fine, Buck,” Eddie says into his shirt, still working through his laughter. “You’re doing fine.” Buck keeps one hand on Eddie’s waist, then gets the other beneath his chin to tilt it up, catching his eyes. “I think we should go somewhere quieter so you can teach me, you know, properly.” Eddie’s eyes go dark, and his mouth opens, quivers with the start of something, but Buck slides his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip and eases closer, so his words slide right over Eddie’s tongue as he says, “Come with me.” “Okay,” Eddie says, sort of melting into the word, into Buck’s hand, and it takes every ounce of Buck’s willpower not to kiss him here. He doesn’t, though – he can’t risk that scandal, so he slips his grip to Eddie’s wrist and tugs him towards the exit. No one notices. Taylor’s wrapped around Lucy. Chimney and Maddie are in a corner by themselves, and no one notices Buck tug Eddie out of the bar and back into the elevator. Buck waits, winding himself around the thrum of Eddie’s racing pulse where Buck’s still got his hand around his wrist. It takes ages, years maybe, for the elevator doors to close.

listen i get i'm way too late to be doing this for tidbit tuesday so just treat this as a wednesday tag @coldbam @clytemnestraaa @tidesreach @inell @sunflower-eddiediaz and whoever else wants to

[kenneth-black]

“Do you love him?”

Buck:

[he literally went 🤨🤨🤨]

[agerasiaa]

A crack fic about Lucifer, Vox and Husk making an Alastor Hate Club. And it’s just them once a week bonding over how much they hate Alastor and Husk realizes more and more how he doesn’t actually hate Alastor and is bitter about it, Lucifer randomly trauma dumps about his tragic life, and by each meeting Lucifer and Husk notice how Vox’s sheer hate borderlines on obsession and they share awkward glances every time he starts ranting and shows them his Alastor shrine or something. And when he makes some comments like “Alastor does this and that every day” (some very specific detail about him only a stalker/someone with a long history with Al would know) and the other two are like “how do you know” and he’s like “I just do.”

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[splickedylit]

Things I never get tired of writing

weird cultural worldbuilding, especially with strange, intricate social norms and power dynamics

characters playing little made up card games with implied bizarre, convoluted rules where I blatantly rip off the vibe of Pokemon, MTG, Duel Monsters/Yugioh etc

we see one of my favs from an outside POV: they are hot, badass, terrifying, tragic, or any/all of the above

[eddiestightywhities]

After Buck has sex with Tommy—and then after Tommy breaks up with Buck—Buck cannot stop looking at men's hands.

It's because he now knows the way men's hands look on him.

So he's just, like, out here in the world now, involuntarily checking out every damn pair of hands on every damn guy around him—well, other than Bobby's and Chim's hands, of course. Because, y'know, they're Bobby and Chim; they're his family, and that would just be weird.

That's why he gets pretty freaked out when he finds himself checking out Eddie's hands. Because, hey, Eddie's family too, right? So why doesn't Buck feel just as weird about noticing how unbearably pretty Eddie's hands are? Why can't he stop glancing at them and seeing just how damn capable they are? Why can't he ignore how golden brown they are? Why does he have to constantly be thinking about how caring they are? Why doesn't he baulk when he watches them close around a firehose or a bottle of beer? Why can't he help but clock the way they touch Eddie's face so often? Why is he now picturing them touching his face all the time? Why can't he unsee how fucking big they are? Why does he suddenly and very desperately need to know how they'd look gripping his—oh.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

[buckleyanddiaz]

the part about the will reveal that makes me put my head in my hands is that if Eddie HADN'T recovered and if he had slipped into a coma or something, Buck would have found out about him being a guardian through a lawyer. in fact, if anything had happened in the year between making the change and revealing it, that's what would have happened.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.

[starburst-and-sunshine]

saw this on tiktok and took severe psychic damage i need the fic NOW

[princessfbi]

#3 please!

Everything hurt. Three broken ribs. One busted up shoulder. A body covered in bruises and lacerations that burned every time he stretched wrong which seemed to be every direction possible. Even his ankles hurt.

But nothing was as bad as the bruising where his harness had caught him. The deep black and purple bruises had wrapped around his hips and across his thighs. The straps under his butt had been the worst of it, making it almost impossible to sit without the ache turning into a deep throb that rocked him to his core.

Better that than at the bottom of a ravine, broken and gone, but still. Everything hurt and Eddie's pride most of all. He just wanted to go and lick his wounds until he could put it all away and be fine.

Too bad he had two very large worry warts that hadn't left his side since he'd walked out of the emergency room.

"Hey," Tommy said, his hands a hovering line of heat along his sides. "Just easy does it."

"I'm fine." Eddie bit out, trying to muscle back the prickling sting behind his eyes.

"So you keep saying," Buck said in front of him. He held out his hands and despite everything in Eddie wanting to prove to them that he could walk on his own, he couldn't help but settle his palms against Buck's. His hands were sore too, scrapped raw and bruised, but there wasn't much Eddie could deny Buck when he asked.

Buck rewarded him with a smile that made Eddie's heart skip three beats. He still couldn't believe he got to see that smile aimed at him.

Eddie clenched his jaw as he took one step then another before his toe caught on a crack in the pavement and he jolted forward. The pain lanced up through him white hot and nearly unbearable. He grunted as he tipped in the wrong direction and braced himself for impact. But Tommy's hands settled on his sides and caught him. He didn't squeeze but it was almost too much anyway.

Buck and Tommy's gentleness was almost too much.

The burn behind his eyes overtook him, lodging a knot in his throat, and Eddie couldn't tell which direction he was free falling again.

That's what it had been. A free fall that almost ended everything. Eddie hadn't hit the ground. His harness had caught him and the rope had swung him like a pendulum, twisting his world upside down. But he was alive! So why did it feel like he was waiting for impact still?

The warm, solid chest at his back was soft and steady as Tommy's scent cascaded around him, bringing him back down to earth.

"Hey," Buck said as he closed the distance at the front, sandwiching Eddie between them. He cupped Eddie's face with his hands as Tommy ducked down and kissed his temple and for once the touches didn't hurt. They were soft and gentle and somehow that was the thing that almost broke him.

"We got you," Tommy said and Buck stroked his cheek until Eddie opened his eyes.

"We got you." Buck repeated.

And Eddie sagged against them and let them catch him.

[becausebuckley]

my wishes come true (whenever i'm with you) | buddie | only one bed | 3.6k

buck and eddie have to share a bed in a hotel. for @flufftober day 31, make a wish!

“You okay?” Buck whispers into the darkness. There's a pause before Eddie responds, his voice low and a bit hesitant. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m not really used to sharing a bed with someone anymore, you know? It’s been a while.” Buck’s heart skips a beat at the admission. He knew this, of course, but hearing Eddie say it out loud makes it more real somehow. He swallows hard, gathering his courage before speaking. “Yeah, I get that,” he says softly. “It’s been a while for me too. But it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Having someone there?” “It is,” Eddie says. “I- I always liked that. With Shannon, sure, but also with you, during quarantine. It feels safer.” “I feel safer, too.” Buck’s voice drops down to a whisper. There's a moment of stillness, and then Eddie moves closer, his knee accidentally bumping against Buck’s thigh. “Sorry,” Eddie murmurs, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he stays there, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin barrier of their pants.

read the full fic on ao3 here!

[wikiangela]

I feel like some people forget, or are straight up too young and new to fandom to know, how fandom, fanfics, and ao3 work, bc I'm honestly baffled, tho I probably shouldn't be but either ive never been this deep into fandom to witness it, or this is some new insanity

like, you know the main idea with fic writing should be just to have fun with characters and ships you love, right? it can have nothing to do with canon or endgames or even shit we want to actually see in a show, not every fic is spec

and the thing is, you don’t have to read something if you dont like it, that's why we have filters, and most importantly, you don’t go on someone's clearly tagged fic and talk shit about the ship the fic is for, what the actual fuck

keep the discourse here, bringing it into ao3 comments now is just so rude and childish wtf

[shitouttabuck]

darling, if you only knew

buck/eddie | 3.8k | rated t

“Right,” Ravi says. “Then you have the newlywed. Pretty much impossible to even flirt with, because they’ve got this—glow around them,” he gestures to Chim, “all happy and in love with that pink hearts tunnel-vision for only their wife.” Chim twists the golden band on his finger slowly. “Huh,” he says. “It’s the ring.” “Wait a minute,” Buck says, frowning. “Hang on. She served me because I���because I’m—listen. I know it’s been a minute but I’m not some hideous beast just because I sang badly. She would totally flirt with me even if I had a ring on.” “Sure, bud,” Chim pats his back benevolently. “Sure.”

or, buck’s bad at karaoke, chimney should know better than to indulge in ring-related shenanigans, and eddie’s coping response to raging homosexual feelings is fair, given circumstances

read on ao3

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Apologies

[babooshkart]

Draco slows at the perfect moment, gliding up the gentle slope behind the cottage, and then Ron’s running toward them, whooping, and the bike is safely out from under their feet. Harry gets his arms around Draco’s waist and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, Ron’s arm brushing against him where it’s slung around Draco’s shoulders, and he knows just from how they move that Ron’s kissing his temple.

commission from @dodgerkedavra for their fic Bike Dream for @dronarryfest 2024 💕✨ This was a joy to work on (look at their happy faces!!!) and the fic is a real treat 🥹💕 y’all gotta go read and lay in bed to giggle and kick your feet ok

[littlespoonevan]

i only need the working of my hands

Pairing: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 20673 Summary: “Are you planning on telling me any time today who the fuck Neil is or am I just supposed to figure it out for myself?” He opens his eyes to see Nicky gaping at him before he starts spluttering over an answer. It’s Kevin who responds first though. “He’s our other starting striker. You came with me when we went to sign him. Do you remember?” Andrew remembers the file, remembers Kevin’s conviction that there was potential there and Wymack’s relief that Kevin actually liked one of his recruit suggestions for once. Andrew could’ve sworn he had dark hair though. “I remember Wymack booking our flights to Arizona. Now derail your one track mind from Exy for five minutes and tell me who he actually is.” Kevin glares at him and Andrew matches his stare. “He knows I don’t like to be touched, he’s here with my family, he smiled when he realised I was awake, who the fuck is he, Kevin?” “He’s your boyfriend.” * Andrew gets injured during an Exy game and loses almost two years' worth of memories. It leaves him with a nasty pain in the head and far too many questions. Namely, who the fuck is Neil Josten?

read here on ao3