Ya know, sometimes things are cut because they're bad. When that happens, I say well done. Editing is an essential function of creating, good job making use of it. That idea you tried is a bad one, off to the bin it goes.
But no matter how you slice it, if it ain't on screen, it ain't canon.
tagged by @eddiesstabwound @sunflowerbuckleys @poledancingghostson @soupfic
More of my driving in the dark stab eddie fic
I think I posted the first snippet at a bad time so if you missed it it's here
Anyway finished my buck angst back to my Eddie angst.
This was the first bit I wrote for this fic and it takes place near the end
They're driving home, late at night. Maybe he should bring Buck to his own place instead of to his house.
Eddie drives. Eddie hates driving at night, even more after New Mexico. But he saw Buck limping and forced him into the passenger seat.
“Give me one reason, Eddie. C’mon, you can't try to end us before we've really started anything and not tell me why.” Buck breaks their tense silence a minute into the drive.
“I can give you 99 reasons.” Eddie says, flatly. It's too late for this conversation.
“Oh, am I up to 99 trials and tribulations now?” Buck bites back.
“No! No. It's not you. It's me.”
“Really?” Buck rolls his eyes. “Another line. Whatever Eddie.”
“What do you want from me, Buck?” Eddie stares at the road instead of looking at Buck.
“I want you to be honest. I want you to mean what you said.”
“I did mean it.”
“Then why the fuck are you pushing me away?”
Eddie can’t do this. Not while driving. He pulls over and turns into an empty parking lot. Cuts the engine and turns the headlights off.
np tagging @mihidecet @diazboys @damnit-buck and anyone else working on stuff
like you used to get summaries with zero extraneous tags just the fandom, name of the couple, rating (if that) and one or two lines of the person’s best elegiac prose on a massive white field of screen. There was a charming sort of minimalist brutalism to it that neither tumblr nor ao3 has been fully able to replicate
buck and eddie should be fucking slow and wet and sticky and sweaty. morning sex that drags and lingers and just builds and builds as they breath i love yous into each others mouths over and over again until they come at the same time. bodies stuck together just laying there and breathing heavy. and then they high five. and get up to start their day. together <3
“I think the sword and shield are plenty,” Buck sighs out, letting his parental responsibility take over as he lifts the helmet off Theo, revealing the five-year-old in full pout mode as Buck places the helmet on a table nearby.
“But I’m a knight, Buck,” he whines, letting his eyes go wider.
Buck ignores the chuckle escaping from Eddie behind him.
“A knight who needs to see, bug,” Buck responds, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You’re gonna defeat so many dragons already, we can’t have that silly helmet holding you back, hm?”
“Plus,” Eddie chimes in behind him, “we’ll get a flag instead. You can wave it proudly once the dragons are slayed.”
Theo’s smile returns.
Buck turns his head, glaring at Eddie for recommending even more merchandise.
Eddie just shrugs, biting his lip playfully as he gently fits the spare crown on Buck’s head.
“It’s better than the helmet,” Eddie offers, a shy smile on his face.
~Or: Buck and Eddie take Chris and Theo to Medieval Times. Their knight flirts with Eddie. Buck definitely doesn’t crash out about it.
(this is so soft and full of Eddie's love for Buck, even when Buck can't quite recognise it as such. It's a beautiful take on the family dynamic, soft and warm even as Buck goes a little bit insane over the knight flirting with Eddie)
fever dream tangerine sweat by unicornpoe
17.3k, rated E
A year ago at that bachelor party, so drunk he was draped across Buck’s lap with his nose buried in all the intoxicating silky heat beneath the notch of Buck’s jaw, Eddie asked Buck what he smelled like to him.
It’s not a question you’re supposed to ask, but Eddie forgets the rules sometimes. Ignores them. Things like that don’t matter between him and Buck, they never have.
He’s still not sure what he expected Buck to say. Nothing, maybe, which he assumed was the truth, Eddie’s scent faded to barely echo of what it should be. But Buck had taken Eddie’s jaw in one hand, had tipped his head back so the line of his neck was bared to Buck like an offering, had stopped to scent him with his mouth still open, had said against Eddie’s sweat-tacky skin, so low his voice thrummed in his chest, You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever met.
*
Eddie hasn’t gone into heat since he presented at seventeen. But living with an alpha who takes care of him for the first time in his life is about to change that.
(an A/B/O fic that's really interesting take on an omega not going into heat and how not just biology but emotions play into that. It's intense and emotion, sweet and sexy.)
tagged by my darlings @soupfic @cathcer1984 and @graceful-ashes
from an upcoming #bottomeddieweek wip
Here goes nothing. "Hey Siri. Call Eddie."
The phone rings once. Twice.
"Hey Buck."
"H-Hey, Eddie. Uh, you busy?"
"Not really, what's up? Wait. Aren't you supposed to be on a date right now?"
"Yeah, about that." Just wanting to get this over with, Buck rushes out the confession at almost a whisper, "Theyleftmecuffedtothebed."
"What was that?"
Sighing, Buck repeats it at full volume and with proper enunciation, "They left me cuffed to the bed."
Silence.
Then booming laughter that makes Buck grimace when it comes out tinny through the phone speaker. He can picture Eddie shaking his head as he chuckles out, "Only you."
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," Buck grumbles, frowning at his phone.
Eddie does and Buck flips him off, telling him so, though the wall ends up being the recipient. Sorry wall.
"And why did they do that?" Eddie inquires with a teasing lilt.
"D-Doesn't matter. Just— Come release me, please."
"Already on my way. Stay put."
"Don't really have a choice," Buck grouches petulantly. When he receives no response, Buck wonders if the call dropped or if Eddie hung up even though he didn't hear the corresponding sound. "Hello?"
"You wanna try that again," comes through the speaker, and Buck just knows he's got a fucking eyebrow raised in challenge. Normally, Buck might bite back with some attitude but he has no recourse if Eddie doesn't come rescue him so he behaves, this time.
"Staying put."
Having gotten his way, Eddie cheerful informs Buck that he'll be there in ten and hangs up. This time Buck does hear the tone confirming the call ended.
Now he waits.
pouty frowny sleepy eddie diaz walking into his kitchen and then immediately just licking into his buck’s mouth as he steals that beautiful hot steamy cup of Their Shared Coffee from his best friend’s hand. best friend’s. that’s his best friend. and eddie just kissed him. it only takes him fifteen minutes to remember they’re not together and they’ve never kissed before. but now eddie’s in the shower and he’s just a man, so he might as well jerk off before he does anything about it
It's early, the sun barely tinging the sky pink when Eddie stumbles out of bed, shoving his feet into his slides, rubbing the grit from his eyes, the sound of his alarm still ringing in his ears. He is not a morning person, he has never been a morning person, vision dimmed and like his head is full of cotton wool for way longer than most people. Shift work and a kid has helped some but mostly he's forcing himself through his morning routine on autopilot, not fully awake until he's dressed, got through breakfast, in his truck and on his way.
He shuffles his way down the hall, walks softly past Chris's door; he doesn't have to be up for hours, no school today, Saturday, and no plans until the afternoon. The living room is tidy, Eddie notices that, Buck's blankets neatly folded at the end of the couch as usual, as he heads towards the kitchen, still barely cognizant of his own existence let alone anything around him.
Buck is leaning against the sink looking out into the garden. He's in his pajamas, less of a head start on getting ready than Eddie had assumed, his hair fluffy, curling up on one side and flattened to his head on the other, gingery stubble glinting on his cheeks. He's prepped lunch, something for Chris to eat when he wakes up most likely, and he turns when he hears Eddie come into the room.
'I made coffee,' he says, jerking his elbow in the direction of the Hildy but Eddie just steps closer, into Buck's space and the sleepy, familiar warmth of him.
'Thank god for you,' he says, his voice coming out rough, scratchy with disuse, as he snags Buck's mug, his free hand landing on Buck’s jaw, leaning in without further thought.
Buck's mouth is hot from the coffee, Eddie can taste it, dark and bitter the way Buck likes it, and he laps it up, stepping closer, tightening his grip. Buck makes a sound, caught in the back of his throat and his mouth opens wider on a gasp, letting Eddie in, the soft press of his tongue against Buck's teeth, sweeter and harder all at once.
One of Buck's hands jerks upwards, catching against Eddie's ribcage as if he isn't sure whether to pull him in or push him away. Eddie’s eyes flutter open, the sunlight painting their edges golden. He tilts his head, catching Buck's bottom lip between his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue, rolling forward again as they find their rhythm, slower, shallower pecks into deeper, tonguing kisses. It's good and it's easy and Eddie loses time, loses breath, still half asleep and the taste of coffee entirely gone from Buck's mouth.
Almost as quick as it started, it stops. Eddie steps back, he's still holding Buck's coffee, hasn't even taken a sip. He prefers creamer and three sugars anyway and he needs to shower, setting the mug on the countertop and turning to head towards the bathroom. They can't be late for work.
Eddie turns on the shower and strips out of his clothes, stepping under the spray of the water, noting mildly that's he's half hard. He would be, Buck does that to him, pink and freshly kissed in their kitchen, pouted mouth bruised and slick with Eddie’s spit. Eddie touches his fingertips to his own bottom lip, the feeling of Buck's against him still beating there. The scrape of his stubble. Buck's lips on his. From when they were kissing, just now in the kitchen. His best friend Buck.
They don't do that. They've never done that. Except, it felt so right in the soft, early morning hush to step up to Buck and capture his mouth like that, to kiss him over a shared cup off coffee before he's even got his head on right.
Eddie looks down, fully hard now, and takes hold of his cock, insistent need blooming under his skin. He wants to do more than kissing with Buck, that's clear to him now. He wants to take him to bed and listen to every sound he can draw out of him, how sweetly yielding he knows Buck will be, how good he'd feel under Eddie, taking him. Eddie strokes himself faster and imagines fucking Buck hard, slow, quick, soft. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, his desire too big for his body with how much he wants it; more awake than he's ever been with this new knowledge.
They've been living in a strange sort of limbo ever since Eddie and Chris came back from El Paso, the raw edge of everything they've lived through enough to occasionally catch, sharper some days than others, but mostly it's been good. Mostly it's been as easy as kissing Buck in the kitchen just now.
Buck has been making noise about finding his own place because he can't keep sleeping on the sofa forever. Eddie doesn't want him to leave and yet he's still not found it in himself to ask him to stay. If he stayed he could share the bed with Eddie, share the couch when they watch TV with Chris, share the kitchen, share a whole life. That's what he wants. Buck by his side like always.
He squeezes his cock, close now, pumping his hand over his length, twisting his wrist and a thumb to the head. Buck kissed him back and if Buck did that he might want all those other things with Eddie too. He might get on his knees for Eddie, his back, he might let Eddie touch him all the ways he wants. He might let Eddie love him.
It rises quickly, then, pulsing hot, and he comes, stripping his cock hard and fast to the memory of Buck against him and the possibility of everything waiting for him just one room away. If Buck is still there, if he hasn't run out of the house in a panic as he's liable to do if Eddie doesn't keep a tight hold on him, grounded and secure.
Eddie gets out of the shower, no more than rinsed clean, and dries off quickly, shoving himself mostly damp back into his shorts and tank, hurrying back through the house, less than fifteen minutes after he left the kitchen. It's brighter now, the sun fully breaking over the line of houses past his back yard, and Buck is still standing where Eddie left him.
'You kissed me,' he says, dazed.
'I did,' Eddie nods.
'Why?'
Eddie shrugs, comes closer, 'seemed like the right thing to do. You want me to do it again?'
His heart is in his throat, he couldn't bear Buck turning him down, but he has to know if they can have this, now he's learned to want it.
'Yeah, Eddie,' says Buck, his eyes shining, bright and wet, 'I want you to kiss me all the time.'
Eddie crosses the room in two strides, catching hold of Buck with two hands, bringing them together again, as if they never stopped, and Buck melts into him, his hands on Eddie's waist. His touch isn’t tentative anymore, fisting in the fabric of Eddie’s top to pull him closer, lips parting on sigh, as Eddie licks into his mouth, desperate for another taste.
It's not mindless this time, both of them equally committed, and Eddie sweeps his thumb over Buck's jaw, to his chin, a hand to the frantic beating of his pulse. It makes Buck moan, everything spit and heat, reeling into each other. Eddie just came but he can feel it rising again, his arousal a dizzying, grasping thing and Buck is hard too, rocking against him, easy friction against Eddie's thigh on the brink of escalation.
They break apart at last, forehead to forehead, breathing hard. Eddie's hand is still clasped around Buck's throat, notched against his jaw, holding him steady as Buck sways into him. He drops his arm, palm to Buck's chest and the racing thrum of his heartbeat. Eddie just went through several epiphanies in the shower and he needs to be sure Buck is on the same page.
'This isn't just sex,' he says, meeting Buck's eyes, 'I don't just want that from you. I want it all, Buck. I love you.'
Buck smiles, beams, beautiful and freshly kissed and Eddie can't wait to do it again, do it a hundred times, do it until they've lost count.
'I—me too,' says Buck, breathless, 'I love you, too.'
Eddie leans in, kiss number three, and Buck meets him in the middle.
This month people have been tearing Flock cameras off their poles.
This month people have been tearing Flock cameras off their poles. Perched above public streets, they are birdlike things, weatherproof, and they photograph every passing car and file it in a searchable national database.
Somebody cut two of them in half at Washington Avenue and Westcott in Houston, spray-painted the wreckage, and left an American flag on one of them. Police were notified on the morning of the Fourth of July.
Somebody severed a camera in Rutherfordton, North Carolina. The police department posted the photograph itself and collected more than twenty thousand comments. “Not all heroes wear capes.” “Give them a medal.”
Here is what the cameras do when nobody cuts them down. Cops use them to hunt immigrants and to follow ICE targets across state lines and to find women who ended pregnancies in states where that is a crime and to watch exes and to watch women they want, without a warrant and without a judge. A cop types a reason in a box and the box does not check.
A man in Burleson, Texas, told deputies his girlfriend had taken abortion pills. He showed them the photographs, the FedEx envelope, the instructions. Deputies opened a death investigation into a non-viable fetus, and the district attorney told them the state could not charge her, and they searched anyway: 83,345 cameras across 6,809 networks, a month of everywhere she had been. The reason they typed was had an abortion, search for female. The search reached Illinois and Washington, where what she did was legal. They found her in Dallas.
She came into the sheriff’s office a week later, and they thought she had come to explain the fetus, and she had come to report that the man who called them had put a gun to her head.
A sheriff in Jerome County, Idaho ran his wife’s plate more than seven hundred times in three months. He typed the same reason every time. Test. The attorney general found nothing to charge him with. He retired in April.
The Institute for Justice counts at least twenty-two officers who used the system to track people they were romantically interested in, and calls that almost certainly an undercount.
And the cameras keep falling.
With a nod, Buck shifts first and sits in the space where a couch would go, opposite the box the television is sitting in. Crossing his legs, feet under their opposite knees, Buck peers up at Eddie as he comes closer. He sits gracefully, one leg curled under the other which he lays out straight.
As he rummages through the bag, Buck watches Eddie, he gets caught when those brown eyes flick up at him. Buck ducks his head, bashful at being found out. Eddie stays quiet, but he holds out a water bottle to Buck. Taking it gratefully, Buck swallows a long few gulps and gasps afterwards in satisfaction.
"Needed that," Buck mutters.
"I bet," Eddie agrees. He doesn't take a drink out for himself, just holds out a coke and then a soft shell taco for Buck.
Buck makes sure to brush his fingers over Eddie's. "Thanks," he rasps.
Shaking his head, Eddie says, "I'm the one thanking you. I don't think I would have gotten Chris' room all done today, if it weren't for you."
Unsure of what to say, Buck hums and eats his taco. Eddie tips his head back swallowing down about half the bottle of water.
They sit in companionable but weighted silence. Buck's no fool, he knows they can't stay in this limbo forever, and he knows he has to be the one to address it. Eddie said his piece, Buck knows it word for word and yearns to know the expression on that handsome face as Eddie says I love you.
Finishing the last of his taco, Buck wipes his fingers and tosses the napkins and wrapper into the bag. He opens the coke and takes a few sips while Eddie swallows his last bite. Heart in his throat, Buck whispers, "was any of it real?"
no pressure tagging: @grnchickenpox @sassay-fox @circledwithaheart and anyone else i'm so tired i can't think of any names right now
Tagged by the wonderful @soupfic
WIP: There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
The expression on Buck's face morphs into something unexpectedly pained before he tightens it, determination taking its place. "I'm not dating if you're not dating, Eddie."
"Buck…I'm not trying to shackle you to me." Eddie sighs.
Hurt flashes across Buck's face, so quickly Eddie's not sure he didn't imagine it.
"Then what are you trying to do?" Buck bites back, sharply. His mouth settling into an unhappy line and an accusatory glint in his eyes.
That knocks Eddie back a bit. He wasn't expecting Buck to get offended by that, but thinking about it, he supposes that's something Buck wants — to be tied down to Eddie, because he's in love with him and love makes people irrational.
Eddie stares at Buck, dumbly, as he tries to formulate a reply to his question.
No Pressure Tags: @cathcer1984, @grnchickenpox, @fanficmanic
tagged by @rhodeys, @sunflowerbuckleys, and @poledancingghostson love you all 😘 mwah. As I'm going to (finally) be posting the second chapter of catholic guilt fic tomorrow, have a snippet of that!
"So," Eddie agrees, his stomach churning, making it feel like he can't get the beer down at all because there's no room in there besides the butterflies.
"It's okay that you haven't shared in group," Scott sips his Heineken, giving what Eddie thinks is supposed to be a comforting smile. "It took me a few weeks before I did. I was, uh, scared that people would be…you know, weird about the whole gay thing."
Eddie nods, sipping his own beer—a Yuengling since they mainly only had domestics on tap.
"Were they?" Eddie swallows, palms sweating where he's got them resting on his jeans.
Scott hiccups a laugh. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Fair," Eddie agrees. "But you could be a masochist for all I know."
And he wants to smack himself in the face for his foot-in-mouth disease, about how he can't seem to stop himself from a fucking innuendo. Or whatever that was.
"Well, I'm not," Scott smirks with a finger pointing at Eddie from where he's holding his pint.
They lapse into a silence that is typical of two people who don't know each other and are certainly not sure how much of their freak flag to fly in front of the other.
"Did you know?" Eddie asks, suddenly, not sure what compelled him other than the fact that it's a secret that is bursting at all his seams and desperate to be taken out of its jar, examined, poked, and prodded.
His head is buzzing, and it's not from the beer.
"Know what?" Scott tilts his head, reminding Eddie just a little of Buck.
God, he's so down bad.
"That I'm gay, too," Eddie supplies, eyes on Orange Bowl going on behind Scott's head. "Like, could you smell it on me or something?"
Scott looks bewildered, blinking rapidly at Eddie. "Not even a little bit. You said you lost your wife. I didn't suspect at all. Just…you were new and, I don't know, I just wanted to extend a welcome." He stops, takes a sip of his beer again. "You're gay?"
"Think so," Eddie admits, scrunching his face. It's somehow easy to admit to a stranger, to someone he doesn't think will tell anyone in his life.
"What made you realize?" Scott asks, voice low and compassionate. Maybe they could be friends, even if his eyes are still shifting around the bar to make sure no one is watching them.
Eddie snorts to himself, shrugging. "Fell in love with my best friend," he admits.
Scott softens, reaching a hand out for Eddie's on the table. Eddie wants to recoil, but he doesn't move, even as his eyes flick around the bar to check and see if anyone is paying attention to them. No one seems to be, but he still gets that uneasiness in his stomach. El Paso isn't small, but it isn't exactly big either.
"That's the quintessential gay experience, Eddie," Scott tells him.
"It is?" Eddie didn't know that.
tagging: @keeperofdragons @eddiesstabwound (yes i know you already got tagged and already did it and can't share your exchange fic but i'm tagging you anyway) @lesbucks @bucklesdiaz @circledwithaheart @grnchickenpox @graceful-ashes @cathcer1984 @sourwolfdiaz (you can share the fic we're working on if you want!) @bugbugly @redrosydiaz @twocutlines @queerstark @minalover @bedsidebuddie @agentsnickers @eventuallyyouwouldtoo @burntoobright @tsunamikaela and ANYONE ELSE WHO SEES THIS PLEASE TAG ME I WANNA READ YOUR FICS 💖💖💖
A hand sets on Tommy's side as someone comes up behind him, sliding into the space next to him. The placement of the palm is intentional, Tommy knows this because Eddie's got this smug little micro expression on his face when Tommy looks at him.
"So," Eddie starts, "air support."
Tommy hums. "Air support."
Neither of them is giving anything away, their unspoken past lingers between them and Tommy isn't sure if he can address it. The boat bobs under his feet, and he grimaces slightly. The salty tang of the sea air is strong and unpleasant.
"Yeah," Eddie says, leaning his elbows on the railing. "I couldn't have been in the navy either."
The puff of laughter is unexpected from Tommy, but it bubbles out of him nonetheless. "I can't swim," he admits. Gazing at Eddie, Tommy studies him. He's still beautiful and it strikes Tommy that he probably should have realised he was gay a helluva lot sooner.
"I never knew your name," Eddie murmurs, eyes on the horizon. "But I remembered you."
***
Tommy and Eddie learn more about each other than just life saver and life saved.
