next to your heartbeat (where i should be) by ameliahart (@melliehart) 1.5k, gen
if you've completely changed your mind since sending this ask and now you hate all things tsunami-related, i don't care, read this anyway. if the world were about to end, i would probably reread this fic. non-sexual intimacy my beloved
high tide came and brought you in by saintsnames (not sure if they're on tumblr but if anyone knows, let me know!) 8.5k, gen
anything about the tsunami from buck's pov is basically guaranteed to make me lose it. buck and eddie taking care of each other and taking care of chris, the three of them being a little family, so soft and sweet
count my little scars (i've got dozens inside) by 118MGZN (not on tumblr as far as i know) 30k, explicit
now for something completely different! this one is definitely heavier so mind the tags, but it's an AU where buck is missing/presumed dead after the tsunami because he thinks chris died (chris is alive!) and he can't bear to face eddie, so he runs away. very painful and very cathartic. this is my ideal flavor of buck whump, where buck is suffering terribly due to Situations and also his own brain, but the narrative does not make a villain out of eddie (or anyone) in service of buck's pain. also i am a sucker for a presumed dead emotional reunion scene
hey, white people talking about the ryan situation, i'd love for you all to read this! because i've seen a lot of posts today attempting to turn the tides in his favour or being nonchalant about this and i really think it's transparent what's going on.
it's so audacious to claim that people were waiting for a gotcha moment with ryan, or that are taking this as a witch-hunt, when in reality a lot of us have been on edge due to the fact that, factually, he's signalled red flags that he has bigoted views for years. this is not a surprise for a lot of people, but i'll give you grace if it is a surprise to you. but this has been a conversation that has come in waves since 2020 wrt ryan's beliefs. no one is happy that ryan holds bigoted views, but it is validating to see that concerns and conversations about his beliefs were justifiable and not born out of paranoia. time and time again it was excused, reasoned, explained away, or simply not taken seriously. people are taking it seriously again, and it's a bit rich to focus on the aspect of what hate he or his fans have been receiving instead of the hate and rhetoric being spread. additionally, this has been an ongoing conversation for the past five years, openly, people have tried to open up that conversation about his views. he sometimes has addressed it (with the slurs), other times not (antivax, antisemitism, misogyny, transphobia). five years in it's evident that he has not changed and will continue making these "mistakes".
i'm a woman of colour, so i encounter people with conservative views regularly in my real life so i'm able to recognize the signs, especially in the current political climate. (it's actually very important that we're able to recognize signs of this). i always hold hope for growth with people outgrowing certain views, it deeply frustrates me that people are always positioning people who are privileged (whether wealth, platform, or race-wise) as the people we should hold grace for, or who we should have to educate. a lot of us from marginalized communities are tired of having to do this, and don't have the energy to do it anymore because we're tired. fandom is also built to be a safe space, and it's unfortunate it isn't, but that's also reflective of shifting politics nowadays too. but i think people wanting to have a fun safe space and not being able to because of these things is definitely something worth talking about.
i do not condone people taking this conversation too far with being racist to him, encouraging any kind of self-harm or doxing of his fans, etc. but what can also be true is the fact that the anger and frustration toward him is entirely justifiable. shifting the angle of this conversation to how people are treating him instead of how he's been spreading bigoted views to +1 million follows shifts responsibility onto people who don't deserve the condemnation. for absolutely no reason. people are frustrated with him, frustrated with those that have excused him for half a decade, and frustrated with the state of the world. please stop excusing him in our presence, have a moral backbone, and if you're not able to then kindly at least have some shame about it!
And Eddie asked him. Asked him if he was sure, assured him that he wasn’t imposing or putting him out or whatever other frankly incredible things Buck’s brain might’ve been telling him. He double triple quadruple checked if Buck was sure he wanted to move into a glorified sardine can, to which Buck responded, beggars can’t be choosers, I’m not exactly swimming in it, Eddie! And yeah. Fair. But there was just. There was no reason for him to leave so quickly, that’s all.
Eddie hates this apartment.
i think i'm sending this one to everyone, but .6 for the intimacy prompts 🙂↕️ and/or 20!
tysm kasia ❣️
6. teasingly kissing the tip of the nose
—
Buck looks absolutely miserable, really, turning his head back when Eddie walks in through the front door. Sunken into the couch cushions, a pitiful knit to his eyebrows, shoulders hunched and lips— they’d be pouting if Buck could do anything with his mouth at all right now. Eddie, hit with a blinding wave of affection, can’t help snickering before he can even say hello.
“Laughing at my suffering now, I see,” Buck says. It comes out strained, because he’s stubborn and would rather pull at the blistering skin of his jaw than not talk.
Eddie throws his keys into the bowl by the door, toes his shoes off. “I’ve laughed at your suffering before.”
“I know.” A scowl that only really works to make the little animal inside Eddie’s chest swell. “This is serious.”
The blinds are drawn, but it’s mid-morning and the sun fights its way through gaps in the fabric like it’s trying to reach Buck, throwing shadows across his downturned face. It’s not really all that often that Eddie comes home to Buck waiting for him, with their shifts aligned and their hips joined, but it’s times like these where Eddie gets to savor the way the aches in his limbs fade when he sees Buck, the way he still gets a little surprised every time, like, oh, right, this is all he’s ever wanted.
“It’s what you get,” Eddie says, lifting up Buck’s legs and slipping to sit underneath them, “for always taking off your mask too early.” Buck’s thighs settle on his lap.
“The fire was out.”
“And yet.” With one palm resting on Buck’s hipbone, Eddie twists a little to the side to let his other hand slide up to the back of Buck’s head, until they’re touching everywhere; Eddie can feel the rise and fall of Buck’s chest against his, slow and steady. No place he’d rather be, really. He could fall asleep right now, easy, exhausted down to the bone, but— Buck’s awake, and he missed him at work so much he wants to keep this until he can’t fight off sleep any longer.
A little pressure at Buck’s neck, and he’s tilting his head up so Eddie can look at the damage around Buck’s chin and down the one side of his jaw, where the flare of residual heat had hit him. The singed skin is already healing but still irritated and red; his lips are chapped and blistering, glistening wet from the cooling gel Buck’s supposed to lather on every couple of hours. He’s letting the examination happen, a little resigned. Eddie squeezes his hip when he’s done. Buck looks like he’s about to tip forward for a kiss before huffing out a breath, slumping back into his pillow.
“This sucks,” Buck groans, “I’ve been eating soup through a straw for days and I can’t even kiss you.”
“You complaining about Mrs. Sarafyan’s soup?” Eddie leans back a smidge, mock-offended on behalf of their neighbor.
“No.” A huff. “It’s delicious.”
“I’ll let her know,” Eddie says, and they’re still so, so close. He’s considering moving his legs up, settling in up against Buck’s side on this couch that’s probably too small and maybe taking a nap after all; nothing but the scent of Buck’s shampoo in his nose and the steady beat of his heart against his chest; and he’s leaning in already, about to bury his nose in Buck’s curls, when—
“You know, if you really loved me, you’d kiss me even with—” and Buck waves his hands in the general direction of his mouth, “—all this.”
And because Eddie really is disgustingly in love with him, he actually, for about a second, considers it. Just a faint brush of their lips, or the corner of Buck’s mouth, maybe; Eddie hasn’t been letting on too much just how on edge he is, but this is the longest they’ve gone without a kiss in— forever, probably. Ever since the first one. He shakes the thought away. But he’s already angling down, eyes set on Buck’s; except when he’s about half an inch away he diverts, dropping a quick kiss to the tip of Buck’s nose instead.
“Eddie,” Buck says, except it comes out as kind of an undignified whine, and Eddie grins at him just to see that frustrated little line appear between Buck’s eyebrows. “You’re killing me,” he goes on, and Eddie can’t hold in the laugh that bursts out of him. He muffles half of it in Buck’s shoulder, avoiding where his skin is tender, breathes him in. He smells like laundry detergent and aloe vera and something Eddie wants to keep forever.
Eddie almost stays right there, where he can nuzzle into him so perfectly, when Buck’s hand comes up to Eddie’s head and he sinks his fingers into his hair. The scratch of his nails against his scalp has Eddie more awake than he’s been in hours, and suddenly he wants. He pushes up, just a bit; Buck’s hand stays, settles strong and heavy at the nape of his neck, and when Eddie looks him in the eyes he sees them blown wide and dark. He squeezes Buck’s hip again, revels in the way the muscle there gives in to his touch.
“I can kiss you in other places,” Eddie murmurs, because apparently he enjoys torturing Buck. Himself, too— with his eyes fluttering closed Eddie nearly forgets, drawn to the familiar shape of Buck’s lips, the lingering memory of the taste of him, the weight of his tongue inside his mouth. He feels Buck shiver from the way his breath must whisper across his cheek; he feels it, too, that familiar itch under his skin that’s making heat begin to creep up his spine. The one inch of space between his lips and Buck’s feels too vast and barely-there all at once.
“Like,” Eddie goes on, letting his nose brush along Buck’s cheekbone, “here,” lips ghosting just a scant bit away from the unblemished side of Buck’s jaw before pressing down into the stubble there, almost chaste. Buck gasps anyway. His fingertips dig near-painfully into Eddie’s nape, and it makes a groan come out from somewhere deep in his lungs, so Eddie opens his mouth and pushes his tongue against the spot where his lips just were, lapping wet and slick at Buck’s pulsepoint. He feels it, his pulse speeding up against his tongue, the way his breath catches on a swallowed moan.
“Or,” Eddie says, wrenching himself away from Buck with all his might, because he was trying something; lets the tip of his tongue trail up Buck’s jaw to his ear. “Here,” he says, catching Buck’s earlobe between his teeth and closing his lips around it.
“Fuck,” Buck grits through his teeth, shifting in Eddie’s grip like he doesn’t know which way to go. A soothing kiss against that little spot below Buck’s ear; a tremble that works its way through them both where they’re joined, like a jolt of power, and that has Eddie giving up trying to speak. Instead he just presses kiss after kiss in a line down Buck’s unmarred neck, in a haste to get to the muscle at Buck’s neck, the joint of his shoulder, the jut of his collarbone, littering the soft skin there with nibbles and bites and sucks and soothing them with the flat of his tongue. All the while Buck’s push-pulling him closer by his hair, like he’s trying to attach Eddie’s lips to himself forever, panting against his cheek.
It’s at that point that Eddie notices that he’s so worked up that not even the smell of antiseptic cream can turn him off. There’s only the bulk of Buck nestled against his chest and the marks of Eddie’s teeth blooming pink and bright under the neckline of Buck’s shirt, clear in the sunlight breaking in; he looks a little mauled, red all over, burnt on one side and kissed to pieces on the other.
It’s kind of insane, in a way that has Eddie nearly keeling over with it every single time, how fast this happens. How all Buck really has to do is just lie there and it’s enough; just the love of Eddie’s life panting his name and looking up at him like he trusts him and suddenly Eddie feels like he has blinders on, like Buck is all there is, Buck writhing and begging for it on this couch.
“You’re killing me,” Eddie says. It comes out rough, and Buck’s squirming a bit more now, hips rolling in tight little circles like he’s trying to be good and failing, so Eddie lets his hand drag away from Buck’s hip, down his thigh, squeezing; thumb brushing along the inseam of his sweatpants, inching up, up, until Buck’s mouth opens around a gasp, and just as Eddie finds him— yeah, hard and aching, he thinks about how, once Buck’s all the way healed, he wants to ruin him all over again, sink his teeth into his bottom lip and tug, mark him up all flushed and pink with the burn of his stubble instead. Make up for all the lost time.
He sucks in a breath, a deep inhale to calm his nerves. Except all it really does is make him breathe in Buck, both of them panting into each other’s mouth. Eddie wants to kiss him so badly he’s about to crawl out of his skin. Instead he swallows around the spit that’s already pooling in his mouth, lets one corner of his lips pull into a grin, and finds his way back to himself. “Or,” he picks his game and the words back up again, and his fingers are creeping up to the waistband of Buck’s pants, now, pulling it down as slowly as he can make himself, “here,” and then Buck’s saying, sobbing, “God, Eddie,” and, settling between Buck’s legs, Eddie ends up forgetting about words completely.
Because, Evan, you came in here the other day and you said you thought it would have been better if it had been you who was shot. You act like you're expendable. But you're wrong.
I was recently tagged by @sofa-king-lame and @coldbam 🫶🏻
here’s a little snippet from the platonic marriage sequel!
It’s ridiculous really, the way his heart rate kicks up a notch just from knowing Eddie was thinking about him. It’s the same giddy feeling he gets every time Eddie’s name pops up on his phone.
Eddie: My parents just got here so Chris abandoned me to go hangout with them :(
Eddie: Are you sure we can’t see each other before the ceremony?
Buck: no it’s bad luck!!!!
Eddie: We’re literally already married
Eddie: I want to see how sexy you look in your suit (know that I’m saying this in a very gay way)
Buck rolls his eyes at that last part. That’s Eddie’s new favorite bit—making sure that he clarifies when he means things in a gay way, lest Buck make the honest mistake of thinking he’s heterosexual. He probably would’ve dropped it by now but Chim and Ravi think it’s hilarious and have unhelpfully enabled him.
Buck: u will have to wait until ur walking down the aisle to see me 😘
Eddie: Booooooooooooo
Eddie: Are you sure you don’t want to come see me? We have twenty minutes until everything starts
Buck is just about to reply with a stern ‘NO ❤️’ when Eddie sends a pic. Except it’s not just any pic. It’s a mirror picture of him, most likely from this morning if the dark bite mark Buck left last night on his bicep is any indication, standing in their bathroom, steam wiped haphazardly from the mirror so that his reflection is visible.
And what a fucking reflection it is.
Eddie’s still dripping, completely naked, hair pushed back out of his face. One hand is holding his phone to take the picture and the other is cupping his dick with the corner of his bath towel. It’s just barely covered. Buck can clearly see the trail of damp hair from his navel that leads down to the dark thatch of neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock.
gonna tag @sonofatoasterwaffle @inell and @melliehart if any of you have anything you want to share 💕
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