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Oliver Stark for Nineteen92 Magazine!!

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me when i have to admire my hair transplant while i’m driving my car

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we don’t have to keep it hidden | buddie

they’ve grown used to not needing words.

how could they not when that sort of quiet connection has been there ever since they risked their lives together for the first time?

eddie does something and buck’s right there at his elbow, always willing to help, always eager, always trying to be a part of something of eddie’s.

and it works both ways. eddie’s a steady presence behind buck, no matter what. whenever he’s splitting at the seams, whenever he’s insecure or too self-assured , whenever he needs something, someone or doesn’t; eddie’s right there.

the thing is, they don’t have to ask. they don’t have to talk about it. the way it works with them is— it’s just there. they know when to be there for each other, when to step back, when to prod and push and poke to annoy each other into giving in. sometimes they take things too far or not far enough. but it only happens when they drift apart, when something happens and pulls them apart, something external, it’s never a choice, never a conscious decision. and they make up, anyway. always.

and it’s not like that needs words, either. eddie likes doing things and buck knows him well enough to recognize those actions as apologies, whenever needed. buck loves to grovel and eddie lets him until he’s had enough. it works without words, without prior discussions, without bargaining, just like so many other things they share and hold and nurture together. like their love that has grown quietly and steadily until it couldn’t be contained inside, in between the cracks of their souls anymore, and had to be acknowledged, out loud.

and here, now. they could go through it wordlessly, too.

their bodies already know each other. they don’t need any verbal directions to learn how to make each other feel good, how to make sure they both come out of it happy and satisfied, maybe a little dizzy.

eddie’s so attuned to buck that he can tell how much he wants and needs it just by the pink of his lips, the starkness of his birthmark, the shallowness of his breath. and buck wants— he wants to please eddie, so much that it feels like he’s never ever wanted anything else in his whole life, and what pleases eddie is buck’s pleasure, so it’s kind of an embarrassingly easy job and a loop of neverending attempts at making each other feel good that have an outrageously high success rate.

the point is, here, too, it could work wordlessly. it has, already, whenever they’ve managed to put their hands and mouths on each other or clashed together, and squeezed and rubbed up against each other to make sure that another pair of boxers needs a wash and another part of their bodies is claimed, loved, marked.

but it doesn’t have to work wordlessly. and as it quickly turns out, this is one of those few parts of their lives— their life, where they do need words; want them. crave them, actually.

the very first time eddie starts to open buck up, first using his fingers and then diving in with his tongue like he’s never been introduced to the concept of hell, it’s like he can’t shut up. and it’s not just mindless babbling against the fat of buck’s ass or promises whispered into the crease of his thigh. it’s questions, it’s prompts, it’s directions. eddie asks and asks and asks. do you like it? does it feel good? is that what you want? here? there? move over; put your leg up; help me out. open your mouth, please. and buck does it and more, and never shuts up.

they work together and they laugh with their mouths wide open, and words pour out of them like they’re filling every single space of silence between them that they’ve ever grown to regret. and when eddie finally makes inside of buck’s body, his rightful place, the safe house use he’s been always looking for, buck doesn’t just welcome him in. he takes eddie in. pulls him inside, lets him sink in, and holds him there, kept and wanted. and all along, buck talks. tells eddie how good he feels, how hard he is, how there’s no space left anywhere inside his body. how he wants eddie even deeper, needs him, and when they somehow make it happen, how he never wants it to end, to go without ever again.

how much buck loves it, loves eddie. loves them together like this.

and eddie knows.

he doesn’t need to hear it but he wants to, and he says all of it back and more.

what matters is, buck soaks it up. he’s like a plant being watered for the first time in a while, and maybe it isn’t the sexiest thing to compare him to when eddie’s balls deep inside of him and buck’s rocking back on the thickness of his dick as if he’s going to die if he stops moving for a second, but it’s true. and eddie says it because that’s what they do now, apparently, they say these things after years of keeping them hidden behind their teeth, and buck laughs and his body shakes and eddie thrusts deeper.

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Happy pride month to him specifically

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HAPPY PRIDE from Zendaya #1 and Zendaya #2

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i mean, i'm an ally. i've always been an ally.

happy pride buckaroo ♡

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mister mary poppins over here 🙄

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so they’re doing another version of buddie on 911 nashville and one those gays is called RYAN. but!!!!!!!!!! this time it’s tim minear’s and ryan murphy’s ultimate wet dream of:

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Things that Buck is & is not. 9-1-1, S08

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eddie going blep :p in season 8

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What’s wrong with you?

god forbid a girl wants to be put in her fucking place

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this is his i love buck smile. if u even care

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Buddie canon Season 9 for sure you guys