Allow yourself to feel it

rated e | 9k | buddie | tipsy bar blowjobs, crop top eddie

For what it's worth, Buck's blaming May for this. Completely and whole-heartedly. It's her fault for throwing her end-of-the-semester party at the country western bar that opened a few months ago that she's been dying to go to, and it's her fault that she practically begged everyone to dress in theme. It's her fault that Buck outed himself (again) and his fruitless, long-term, definitely unrequited crush on Eddie at Bachelor-turned-Love Island night last week, and it's especially her fault that Buck's learning—for the first time—what his best friend looks like in... Whatever. … Okay, so maybe none of that is actually her fault. Maybe it's mostly Buck's fault. Maybe he felt safe with May, talking about this bottle of feelings that's been shaken so many times he's surprised it hasn't exploded already. Maybe she loves him in spite of it. Maybe because of it. And hey, maybe Eddie's just being a good friend, showing up to support May. In his boots and— Buck sighs, long and deep, determinedly looking back at the bar and the beers on tap. The round, oblong, and frankly far-too-phallic-for-Buck's-fragile-mental-state beer pulls stare back at him. He can feel Eddie approach from behind him, like he's got on a pair of jangly spurs that only Buck can hear, but it's more likely to be because Eddie'd have to pass the bar to get to the table where May is cheering Eddie! Eddieeeeeeeeeeeee! really, really loudly. He's pretty sure the spurs aren't real, but the distinct clack of cowboy boots are, getting louder as Eddie gets closer, and Buck, for reasons he will not be disclosing, is pressing his fingertips into the bar top with hydrolic intensity. In fact, as Eddie slides up next to him, Buck's pretty sure he can hear the wood of the bar crack beneath his hands. "Hey," Eddie says, knocking his hip into Buck's, setting off little rockets in his blood, "grab me something?" Buck mumbles, "Sure thing," before Eddie knocks his hip again and moves away. By the time the spurs stop jingling, Buck takes a glance down at the bar top. No holes or cracks in sight. How about that?

“Do you like the movies because you like the movies or because Buck…” Sophia pauses for a second, seeming to take her thought in a different direction than planned, “picked them out?”

Eddie’s not sure there’s a difference.

At Eddie’s silence, Sophia picks her phone up and takes them into a different room of her house. “‘Cause it kind of seems like you’re a little in love with Buck.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes. This again. “I’m not in love with Buck.”

“Not even a little bit?” She squints one eye and pinches her fingers together.

“No,” Eddie presses.

Sophia laughs.

Eddie’s not in love with Buck. He’s just not.

--

rated e | 9k | buddie | tipsy bar blowjobs, crop top eddie

For what it's worth, Buck's blaming May for this. Completely and whole-heartedly. It's her fault for throwing her end-of-the-semester party at the country western bar that opened a few months ago that she's been dying to go to, and it's her fault that she practically begged everyone to dress in theme. It's her fault that Buck outed himself (again) and his fruitless, long-term, definitely unrequited crush on Eddie at Bachelor-turned-Love Island night last week, and it's especially her fault that Buck's learning—for the first time—what his best friend looks like in... Whatever. … Okay, so maybe none of that is actually her fault. Maybe it's mostly Buck's fault. Maybe he felt safe with May, talking about this bottle of feelings that's been shaken so many times he's surprised it hasn't exploded already. Maybe she loves him in spite of it. Maybe because of it. And hey, maybe Eddie's just being a good friend, showing up to support May. In his boots and— Buck sighs, long and deep, determinedly looking back at the bar and the beers on tap. The round, oblong, and frankly far-too-phallic-for-Buck's-fragile-mental-state beer pulls stare back at him. He can feel Eddie approach from behind him, like he's got on a pair of jangly spurs that only Buck can hear, but it's more likely to be because Eddie'd have to pass the bar to get to the table where May is cheering Eddie! Eddieeeeeeeeeeeee! really, really loudly. He's pretty sure the spurs aren't real, but the distinct clack of cowboy boots are, getting louder as Eddie gets closer, and Buck, for reasons he will not be disclosing, is pressing his fingertips into the bar top with hydrolic intensity. In fact, as Eddie slides up next to him, Buck's pretty sure he can hear the wood of the bar crack beneath his hands. "Hey," Eddie says, knocking his hip into Buck's, setting off little rockets in his blood, "grab me something?" Buck mumbles, "Sure thing," before Eddie knocks his hip again and moves away. By the time the spurs stop jingling, Buck takes a glance down at the bar top. No holes or cracks in sight. How about that?

tagged by @soupfic @cathcer1984 with some fascinating words you should check out. thank you beloveds 🫶

Eddie Diaz: Yes.

The name itself wasn’t a surprise, Maddie enthusiastically told him she was inviting Eddie and Chris.

Seeing his best friend in person should have excited him. Instead, he landed somewhere between hollow and anxious, pasting on a smile for his big sister.

Last spring, after Chim gave his rousing firehouse speech, he really thought there was hope. Eddie stood taller, looking just as inspired as the rest of them. Like he couldn’t wait for an opportunity to whip out his phone and tell El Paso ‘thanks, but no thanks’. Turns out Eddie did call the captain–his captain. He explained the disastrous situation with the building collapse and was granted an additional forty-eight hours.

Within twenty-four, Eddie was on a plane out of LAX.

i was tagged by @allisonrw96 and @dangerpronebuddie - thank you!

in which honest communication is hard and everyone has feelings about it.

"He thought you already knew." Buck flinches, hard, then sets his jaw like he's mad about it. Eddie sighs, exhausted, frustrated, fed up with this whole stupid fucking farce of a day. "Okay, be honest, are you pissed off at him for telling you, or are you pissed off at me for not telling you?" "I'm not—I'm not pissed off at you," Buck says, and he doesn't even look like he's lying; he kind of looks like Eddie just slapped him, actually. "Sure seems like it. And I was going to tell you, I just—" "Yeah, I get it," Buck interrupts, fast, like he can't bear to hear what Eddie is about to say. "I get it. It's not—it's not about me. I get it. And, uh, this doesn't change anything. Right?" He says it like a prayer, like a talisman, like it burns his tongue. Eddie wonders if it stung this much from the other side, years ago, in the darkened loft. Probably.

@dangerpronebuddie @damnit-buck recently posted fic snippets, so here’s a little more ‘What if David walked in on Shane and Ilya doing literally anything else’.

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie <3

Have some of the sick Chris fic I’ve been working on for the last feed, miraculously she’s almost done, just needs an editing pass or two!

"Thank you," Eddie says as they walk slowly back to the cubicle.

Buck shrugs and shoots him a smile as their elbows knock togther, "I got you. You hate granola bars. I don't know why you always buy them."

"I mean," Eddie says, jabbing him with his elbow deliberately this time so he knows he's serious, "for this. Tonight. For everything: keeping me calm, getting his stuff together, bringing his crutches, driving. You— It really helped."

Buck ducks his head as he unwraps the granola and takes a bite, "I— I got you. You know that."

"I do," Eddie says, and he realises a moment later that he means it. Buck's got him. Always. Every time.

Eddie hasn't had to worry about having someone to rely on for a long time.

Why is formatting on mobile like that

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie (😘) & ik it's not technically sunday anymore but I wrote some stuff so *throws at you & runs away* (it's part of my all you need verse because ofc it is)

“Oh,” Rachel starts and Raylan tries to brace himself for what he knows is coming next. "And I suppose this has nothing to do with the fact that the man we're going to question is apparently Tim’s high school sweetheart?” 

"I'd hardly call them sweethearts, from the way Tim tells it." Not that Tim has really told him much at all. Though him admitting that this guy was anything to him at all implies that he must have been something to Tim. 

"Raylan,” Rachel says, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on," he says, turning to look at her. "You're telling me you're not at least a little bit curious?” 

"About what?" Rachel raises an eyebrow at him while clearly trying to bite back a smile. “Tim's questionable taste in men?" 

“Funny," he says, shooting a half hearted glare at her. "I mean, he ain't exactly an open book, even on the best of days." 

Rachel's expression softens at that, just a touch. Raylan looks away, says as casual as he can manage, "Sides, all the shit he's given me about cases involving my exes, seems only fair I get to give him some shit back about his.” 

"You really expect to believe that's the only reason?” 

"What other reason could I possibly have?” 

"Raylan,” she says, exasperated and amused all at once. 

hey abc if you looking to hire I'm here

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