#anon ❣️

[azaharinflames]

I'm curious how Buck and Tommy might reconcile. Since Tommy was the only one who witnessed Buck breaking down in the tunnel, maybe he'll be the one to make the first move and reach out to Buck, trying to support him. Buck is trying to support everyone now, following Bobby’s last words, and I hope Tommy would be there to support Buck in return. The flashback also reminded me of how connected Tommy is to the 118. I knew he had that connection, but seeing it being used in the story really surprised me. I feel like even Tim would be amazed that he created such a character.

I'm very curious as well, Nonnie. Because there are certain things I've seen/the series has shown us, that do paint a picture. We just don't fully see it yet. But, to put them somewhere:

As you mentioned, Tommy was the only one who witnessed Buck breaking down. And Buck is doing exactly what I thought he'd do, which is pushing down his grief in order to support everyone. My personal theory is that Buck will break once everyone is doing better and he finds himself with 'nothing' to do. At the very least, not being as useful as he must've been these weeks.

And, yes, I do expect the show to, to some degree, acknowledge that Tommy did see him break. Furthermore, Tommy has been the one character who, consistently, has clocked Buck's feelings and when he's hidden them. He's the one who's asked how he was doing when the 118 wouldn't ask him (I know during Maddie's kidnapping they had to focus on Chim, and I do not disagree. But I also think it's wild no one checked on her brother), and I don't know if that was deliberate, or a crazy coincidence. But it is there.

Speaking of Tommy, the flashback is very interesting, because they truly didn't need to include him in one, whatsoever. Now, I do find it funny when he say he wasn't needed, because as much as that is true, the opposite also rings true. Those scenes are needed because, ultimately, they are serving a purpose. And in this case:

It establishes Tommy as one of the OG members of the 118, and it's a subtle reminder to the audience that he served under Bobby, and that he was a member of the firehouse before Buck was.

It is potentially a segway for the show to have Tommy talk about Bobby, and how he influenced his life. The audience is reminded that Bobby was in Tommy's life pre-harbour, and so, when Tommy talks about him in the future, they will not find it out of place.

My personal favorite... it kinda adds to the red string theory a bit. Because Tommy saves Bobby. Tommy, inadvertently, gives Bobby eight more years. Just like in Season 7 he helps give Bathena one more year together. If Tommy hadn't been there, if he had not saved Bobby... the 118 as we know it would not exist. It was one thing to just put him in the flashback, but to have him saving Bobby? That's a whole other thing

Now, something that I thought could be small foreshadowing, but could totally be not:

In the conversation between Maddie and Buck, we hear the typical tell each other you love them before it's too late. Now, I am aware this is something commonly said in this type of storylines, but... the focus to Buck and the fact that we're still dealing with Bucktommy not communicating well, and being in a kind of limbo... I think could be some small foreshadowing of what could come.

There is no one, factually, that Buck needs to tell he loves them, except Tommy. No one he doesn't know where he stands with anyone other than Tommy. It might result in nothing, but that line seemed a bit pointed. And the small focus on Buck seemed very pointed, actually.

Also, if I were Tim, I would be patting myself on the back and treating myself to a nice dinner, because holy. It's almost unbelievable how he's managed (unintentionally at that) to weave Tommy into the narrative. He's haunting it since the beginning of the goddamn show (though this was added later). Like. I find it hard to believe still.

(not complaining though)

[artspats]

First of all I just wanted to say how much I love love love your coach art series. Genuinely one of the best things I’ve read idk why but I just love it sm and second of all I don’t know if you take requests but It would be so cool if you wrote about how coach art and reader met, like their very first interaction or something like that 🙏

Hello, my beautiful anon! First of all, thank you so much and I’m so glad you like this little series. It makes me very happy 🫀

I'd never thought about this actually, but I found your idea refreshing and I really projected everything as I imagined it/ I can’t work without a moodboard and yes, I do take requests, whether it's moodboards, blurbs, or anything you can think of ^^

They changed the tennis coach at school. Apparently Coach Russel got a better job — probably paid the same crap they give therapists for fourth-room athletes. Still, it beat working with teenage girls. Others might disagree.

But to each their own.

—

She was tying her laces while talking to Mia.

Mia was pouting, “I don’t know, maybe I have to tell him more about myself. I just— don’t know if I like him enough. Am I a bitch? I don’t think so, my mom told me that she felt that way about my dad before they were a couple—“

She laughed, “Mia— that’s normal, okay? Not because he gives you things you need to force yourself to like him. There’s just no way you can fake something without feeling uncomfortable.”

“God I don’t know, he’s a nice guy but I don’t know if I want to see him every time I wake up.“

“Well then—tell him?”

Mia shrugged, tilting the bottle of water in her hand, “It’s not that easy. Also, he’s a good kisser.”

“Just a good kisser?” She grinned up at her.

“Hey!” Mia laughed, shoving her shoulder.

She stood up, dusting off her hands on her shorts, “What?! I’m just asking!”

“Shut up already—“

“You looked very happy the other day that he—“ She turned around, grabbed her ass and bit her lip, clearly mocking Mia.

“Stop!!—“

She threw her head back, laughing — and when she straightened up, she saw him.

He had the saddest look that could exist — blue eyes, with a small glimpse of gray and a flicker of green here and there.

Like those artisan sourdough breads — weird colors, somehow still beautiful.

A very cute nose, buttoned at the tip — an up turned ball of cartilage.

Wrinkles, especially between his eyebrows, as if he was always worried or confused.

There was something so special and delicious about a confused man...

A small face, but everything fit perfectly. His eyes were a little apart, but that only added something unique to him.

And those lips — so very kissable and plump.

He definitely puckered up when he kissed.

He was standing by the stands, with the clipboard under his arm, chewing gum as if he was thinking too much. Was he looking at her?

Oh — he looked away.

New Coach. Art Donaldson. That's what Coach Russel had said.

Art bent down to pick his bottle of water, and that's when she heard his voice, low and clear.

"Hey"

She looked up.

"You didn't tie the other one," He pointed with a finger.

She blinked and then looked down. One lace had been rolled up, the other moved.

"Oh, right— " She bent down again, trying to tie it, but with someone’s gaze things always felt more difficult than they were. Her fingers were strangely clumsy. Mia, I blame you completely, she thought.

When she got up, he was still watching her, with the sun drawing a line on his forehead. He seemed calm and composed, not bothered by the warmth of the sun. Whilst she frowned at the single hit of light.

He opened his mouth and stopped, as if he was considering it.

“How old are you?” She squinted her eyes slightly, confused but not offended.

“Eighteen.”

He nodded slowly.

Jaw tightened, as if he was filing that information carefully.

His gaze quickly turned to the court.

“Very good. We’re going to do some exercises, okay?”

“Yes,” she said, brushing her hair back.

“Of course.”

He didn’t say anything else, he just turned around and walked towards the others.

Yet he moved like someone used to being watched, but did he like it?

She followed him, suddenly very aware of the weight of her own legs, the air in her throat forming a little lump, the sound of her own breathing.

Behind her back, Mia whispered:

“What was that?”

She didn’t answer.

She just smiled - more to herself.

Nobody knew it but, she blasted “Criminal” by Fiona Apple on her way home that day.

Sitting up straighter as ever, as if someone was watching, as if he was watching.

Fingers tapping on the small scar on her knee, tracing a slow circle as the song went on to—

“I got a lot to lose, and I’m bettin’ high,

so I’m begging you...”

[hyruling]

omggggggg 58 + 60 for the intimacy prompts mwah mwah mwah 🥰🥰🥰

60. sitting in their lap

—

“Dude. I know you heard me call seat check.”

Chim shrugs, tucked into Buck’s spot between Eddie and Maddie on the couch, smugly eating the popcorn that Buck and Eddie had been sharing before he got up to pee. “I heard no such thing.”

“You’re blocking the TV,” Ravi complains, but Buck ignores him. 

“Come on, you all heard me. I was only gone for like, three minutes.”

“Wife privilege trumps seat check rules,” Chim argues, tossing popcorn in his mouth with a shit eating grin. He wraps his free arm around Maddie, who’s focused on the movie and studiously ignoring them both. 

“That’s not a thing—”

“It is when it’s our first night out of the house since the baby was born,” Chim argues. “Or I could use the captain card if you prefer.”

“Abuse of power,” Ravi mutters, and Buck points to him excitedly. 

“Yes, exactly, thank you Ravi!”

“I think you should use it though,” Ravi continues to Chim, and Buck gapes while Chim does a stupid fist pump. “We’re missing the climax of the movie dude. Just sit on the floor.”

“Easy for you to say from your high horse in the comfy armchair. The floor is hard on my leg,” Buck says. It’s only half true, but he’ll use whatever excuse he can to win one over on his brother in law. 

“You sit on the floor all the time,” Hen interjects from her spot on the loveseat, curled up cozily with Karen, also ignoring them. 

“Irrelevant,” Buck says with a dismissive gesture. “The point is, I called seat check, and what kind of society are we if we can’t even respect the sanctity of—”

And Eddie, who until now had been silently observing with an amused grin, rolls his eyes and sighs, “Dios, come here.”

He wraps a big hand around Buck’s wrist and tugs until he has nowhere to go but Eddie’s lap. Buck falls limply down, trying not to crush him at the last second by throwing an arm across the back of the couch. Eddie situates him across his legs, his back against the armrest next to Eddie, and if he weren’t struck so dumb by the whole thing he would put his feet in Chim’s face just to be annoying. 

“Happy now?” Eddie mutters in his ear.

“Uh,” Buck says intelligently. 

Eddie’s hand settles on his knee, the other resting behind Buck’s back along the armrest. Everyone’s eyes are on them when Buck looks up, but Eddie’s are on the screen. His cheeks are a little pink, but otherwise he appears normal. 

“Wow,” Chim says after a minute. “An instant Buck-Off button.”

“Shhh,” Eddie hushes him before Buck has a chance. “Some of us are watching the movie.”

Chim shakes his head with a short laugh and finally turns his attention back to the screen, and the rest of the room follows suit.

Buck is, ostensibly, also watching the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. Gun to his head he couldn’t name a single actor in it, despite having watched the last hour and a half before Eddie rewired his synapses. All he can focus on is Eddie, the feel of his chest rising and falling against his arm, his thumb rubbing unconscious little circles against Buck’s elbow, the heavy weight of his hand on his knee.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers after who knows how long, quiet in Buck’s ear. 

Buck turns. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim room, his face much closer than Buck anticipated. He nods and tries to get a grip, though Eddie must be able to feel the way his heart is beating with the arm tucked around his back. 

“Yeah, I’m great,” he answers softly. 

“Sure? I can sit on the floor, if you’d rather not—”

Buck is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No, no, this is — yeah, this is perfect.”

Perfect? He cringes internally, but Eddie isn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact he smiles, soft and pleased and all for Buck, and his heart rate kicks up another notch. 

They finish the movie twenty minutes later. Buck’s had to pee for a good fifteen of that, but he refused to get up — he doesn’t have the kind of luck that will afford him a second chance at this. He doesn’t even get up when everyone else stands to stretch and refill their drinks, perfectly content to stay where he is for as long as Eddie will allow it. 

Similarly, Eddie doesn’t push him off the second it becomes acceptable to do so. In fact he encourages Buck to stretch his legs out on the couch with a silent pat on his thigh.

“Am I crushing you?” Buck asks when they’re the only ones still in the room. 

Eddie shakes his head and gives his knee a squeeze. “Nah. You’re kind of like a weighted blanket.”

Buck flushes and looks away. Feels ridiculous, like he’s fifteen again and being flirted with by Cassie McDaniel in homeroom — except they’re in their thirties, and Eddie isn’t flirting. He’s just being Eddie. The New Eddie, as Buck has coined it in his head; the one that came back from El Paso with a twinkle in his eye that Buck can’t quite parse. He’s the same old Eddie but lighter, somehow — more free with his touches and casual affection in a way that Buck very much enjoys, despite the way it’s slowly driving him insane.

Like now, for instance.

“Your ass is kinda bony though.”

Buck scoffs, affronted, and Eddie laughs. His hand tightens on Buck’s knee when he tries to shift his weight off Eddie’s thighs. “Didn’t say you needed to move.”

“Well I’d hate for my bony ass to dig into your perfect thighs.”

“Perfect, huh?” Eddie teases, and there’s that fucking twinkle again.

“Mediocre. Above average. I know you skip leg day at least once a week.”

“How many times can we have this argument?”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a healthy discussion.”

“Core strength is more important than having huge biceps, and as a firefighter, you should understand that—”

“Well those huge biceps have saved a lot of people, didn’t hear them complaining.”

“I’m definitely not complaining either, but my point is—”

“Are you two gonna cuddle on my couch all night?”

They look up to see Hen standing over them, hands on her hips and brow raised suspiciously. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says before Buck can come up with anything. “You got something to say about it?”

“Only that you have your own house to be weird in,” she says with an eye roll. “And that Buck promised to help clean after the fiasco with the fondue last month.”

“Shit, I did,” Buck says, gingerly getting up so he doesn’t hurt Eddie with his bony ass. Eddie squeezes his hip as he goes though and nearly sends him sprawling. He just blinks innocently up at Buck when he whirls on him, self-satisfied little smile on his face that Buck wants to—

Nope. Not going there. He trails off after Hen and decidedly does not think about it. 

He doesn’t think about it when Eddie comes in to help clean, hip checking him at the sink. Or when they say their goodbyes to everyone at the door, and Eddie presses little smacking kisses to Karen and Hen and Maddie’s cheeks that he pretends he’s not wildly jealous of. Or when Eddie leads him to the truck with a hand on his lower back, and keeps it there until Buck rounds the hood to the drivers seat. He doesn’t think about it on the drive home, Eddie quiet in that way he gets sometimes after one too many drinks, and he definitely doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ‘perfect’ thighs when he changes into his sleep shorts and sinks onto the couch next to Buck. 

“That was fun,” Eddie says, relaxing until his head rests on the back of the couch.

“Yeah. Super fun.”

It’s quiet again, only sound coming from the TV playing on low. Buck keeps his eyes glued to it, though he’s not taking in a single thing Mrs. Brady is saying. 

“You’re thinking pretty loud over there bud,” Eddie says during a commercial break. 

Buck chances a look at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks so soft, relaxed against the cushions, wearing a baggy tank and shorts that ride up well above what Buck would consider an appropriate length. Buck looks quickly away. 

“Hey. I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Buck answers, and forces himself to make eye contact. Eddie looks a little unsure, and Buck quickly shakes his head. “No, I told you it was fine, I promise, I just. I’m tired, I guess. Karen’s sangria always sneaks up on me.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah I know. Wanna share the bed tonight?” 

Buck flushes, and this time it’s definitely not dark enough for Eddie not to notice. It shouldn’t be a big deal — they’ve shared the bed a few times since Eddie and Chris came home, usually after a particularly grueling shift where their exhaustion ran too deep to tolerate the couch, and it’s been fine.

Only the last time it happened, he woke up to Eddie curled around his back, hand curled possessively in the front pocket of his hoodie. And in his half-conscious state Buck had thought, this is how I want to wake up everyday. He’s avoided sharing ever since. 

“Nah, couch—couch is fine,” Buck stutters. 

“Buck. Come on, talk to me, what’s got you so freaked?”

“I’m not freaked,” Buck lies, and turns back to the TV. “I’m not. Just. Brain is too loud tonight, I guess.”

He sees Eddie nod in his peripheral. “Well, I wasn’t kidding earlier you know.”

“About what?”

“You feeling like a weighted blanket,” Eddie clarifies. 

Buck’s head snaps to the left. Eddie looks serious as a heart attack — which, incidentally, Buck may be currently having. 

“So…”

“So,” Eddie echoes.

He inches closer until their thighs are touching. Buck watches in a weird sort of trance as Eddie twists and swings a leg over, hovering above Buck’s thighs. “This okay?”

Buck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and says, “Yeah—yes. Yeah.”

Eddie smiles and sits fully, and then they’re just staring at each other. Buck keeps his hands firmly to himself, while Eddie’s rest comfortably on Buck’s shoulders. 

“See what I mean?”

Buck blinks, remembers the weird metaphor they’re operating under. “Um, sort of. You’re only—I-I mean there’s only weight on my legs.”

“Good point.”

Slowly, as if he’s anticipating Buck to call their game of chicken and push him off, Eddie leans forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Buck feels his chin dig sharp into his shoulder before he adjusts and lays his cheek against his collarbone. 

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, slightly muffled. 

Buck inhales, feels Eddie move with him on the exhale, and it’s — well, Eddie wasn’t lying. Eddie lets his full weight press against Buck and it's comforting, to say the least. Electrifying, because it’s Eddie, and yet as the minutes pass he can feel his heart rate slow, his breathing ease. He feels their chests rise and fall together, Eddie’s warm weight settling him in a way nothing has in a long time — maybe ever. His mind goes pleasantly blank, even when one of Eddie’s hands starts to comb through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“It’s nice,” Buck answers belatedly, and Eddie chuckles at the sleepy timbre of his voice. “I see what you mean.”

“Right?” Eddie says, scratching gently at his scalp, and it feels so good he melts even deeper into the couch cushions. “You can touch me too, you know.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, and picks his hands up from where they’d been resting awkwardly next to Eddie’s thighs. He wraps them tentatively around Eddie’s back; Eddie makes a contented humming sound in response. 

They stay that way for a long time, until the late night rerun ends and another episode begins. Buck’s hands drift after awhile, smoothing up and down Eddie’s back slowly, thumbs rubbing circles against his scapula and vertebrae. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He’s half asleep, and Eddie is so big and warm in his arms, and it makes him reckless. Eddie’s ear is so close to Buck’s mouth he can whisper what he hasn’t dared speak out loud. 

“Yeah Buck?” Eddie says just as softly. 

“I need to tell you something. No – don’t, don’t get up.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to keep him still. 

Eddie huffs but stays put. “You’re not about to tell me you’re moving, are you?”

There’s such an air of dread and petulance in his tone that Buck laughs. 

“No. Didn’t, uh, know you had such strong feelings about that.”

“Well. I do.”

“It’s not that,” Buck says, and Eddie exhales against his neck. “But you might, uh—you might want me to when I—”

“No I won’t,” Eddie interrupts, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.” 

Buck swallows, hard enough that Eddie must hear it. But he waits patiently, one of his thumbs tracing figure eights on the back of Buck’s neck, and for some reason that is what finally breaks through his thinly guarded veneer.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

The figure eight stutters to a stop, but Eddie doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he covers Buck with his weight even more, somehow, and Buck feels his nose brush his clavicle. 

“And you think I want you to move out because of that?” 

“I—well, maybe, I don’t want to make you feel—I don’t know. Actually, can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” 

“No,” Eddie says. And then nothing else. 

“I—Eddie you gotta—you gotta say something. Tell me to fuck off, or that it’ll never happen but you value our friendship anyway, o-or that nothing will change between us—”

“Hmm, no. None of those sound like me.” 

“You literally said that last one. Basically verbatim, less than a year ago.” 

���Yeah, but I was lying then. I don’t want to lie to you again.” 

“Eddie, come on, what does that me—” 

But in one swift move Eddie sits up, catches Buck’s face between his hands, and kisses him. 

It’s a short kiss, a dry brush of slightly chapped lips, but it manages to alter his entire worldview in the five or so seconds it last before Eddie pulls away. Buck gets a brief glimpse of his pink cheeks before he tucks his head back against Buck’s shoulder. 

“There you go sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles, voice drawling the way it does when he’s tired. “My knees have about another five minutes of this before I need to get up, let's not waste them.” 

“Okay,” Buck says in a ragged voice that doesn’t quite sound like his. A voice belonging to a mouth that has kissed Eddie Diaz, and therefore irrevocably changed. 

True to his word, Eddie continues to crush him into the couch for another five minutes, until his racing heart slows again and their eyes are half-lidded and drowsy when Eddie sits up. 

“That was nice,” he says with a smile.

“Y-yeah, it was,” Buck agrees, squeezing Eddie’s thighs. “Same time tomorrow?”

Eddie huffs out a little laugh, and though Buck was half joking, Eddie nods and presses his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. Buck drops a kiss to the crown of his head before he can quite stop himself, and Eddie makes that same happy humming sound Buck wants to chase for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

—

[sevsbunny]

thoughts on hockey player!vi x rival!hockey player! reader after vi loses a match and r offers to help her calm down?

(i am down BAD for hockey player vi 🙏)

…

the enemies to lovers is unmatched with these too. you love to tease vi whenever she looses against you. her face gets all scrunched up like a cute mad little puppy and you can’t help but tease her even more - even if she gives you the finger.

“fuck you, sweetheart.” she spat at you as she threw her hockey stick and gloves to ward the bench in anger, huffing as she sat down.

“i bet you would like that, huh?” you say back, kicking away your skates and shrugging off your pants. you hear her sigh loudly and before you know it, shes next to you, sitting on the bench and bringing you over her lap.

you let out a gasp as she tugs down your thermal leggings and u dewar before her fingers go right in between your legs and finds you soaked

“oh sweetheart, i think we all know who would like it more,” she groans as she dips a finger into your cunt and you let out a moan, your hands gripping the sides of the bench before she dips in another

“fuck, vi…” you let out a groan when she starts curling her fingers, pumping them deeply. you could feel your arousal coat the inside of your thighs, dropping down her wrist

“what’s got you all worked up, hm baby?” she asks so sweetly but you know she’s being condescending. you moan again as she picks up the pace, taking her other free hand to land a spank on your ass. the sound echoes in the empty locker room — empty for now.

“y-you…” you let your head down as you hear how wet your pussy is every time she pumps her thick fingers in and out. you felt so embarrassed you were that turned on seeing your rival so upset she lost a fucking hockey game

“yeah, baby? you were thinking of fucking the rival captain, huh? this what you needed?” you let out another moan as you nodded, not even caring who heard you at this point. her fingers fucking you deep and fast felt way too good for you to care anymore

as if she knew what you needed, she picked up the pack and moved her thumb to circle your clit hard. you arched your back into her hand and she let out a groan, taking her othe free hand and gripping the bottom of your neck, taking some hair and tugging your head back to look at her best you could

“you and this pussy sound so pretty, sweetheart. let me hear what you sound like when i make her cum.”

[loveharlow]

hiiiii harlow i was just popping in to ask if you had any fav blogs or blog recs? specifically for jj and rafe? i feel like I've read everything on here -🍒 (if u do emoji anons)

hell yes i do! i have recs list for jj and rafe under their masterlists on my blog but here are some of all time favorite writers (in no particular order):

i'm gonna start with abbie, @abslvrs13, this girl has so much talent and her reader moodboards & concepts are chef's kiss istg. her writing is damn near perfection and omg her rockstar!reader and BOAF fic are my favorites rn

next, i have to say bhavya, aka @bbyg4rl, like obviously my jj phase never went away but she's actively bringing it back to life and she's also funny as FUCK but no fr, everything she writes is such a masterpiece (turn on notifs for her work and free giggles)

third, i HAVE to say @cherienymphe, like ugh! her fics are dark, so please heed that warning but if you're into that, she does it the best i cannot lie. her fics are like cake and her SERIES are the cherries on top, like teenage dirtbag and smells like teen spirit are must reads

next is @whytheylosttheirminds, and LORD HAVE MERCY her don't call me kid series is TOP TIER, like I binged it for days and I have no shame

next! @cognacdelights and if you haven't stumbled across her blog, umm...where have you been because her stuff is so good? her oc works for indie routledge are too good, even if you don't care for oc's you should still read and imagine indie as yourself or something (i did i can't help it) because it's so worth the read

honorable mention: @writingsbychlo, i recommend this girl for everything because she inspired me to START WRITING, like her fics were so filled with passion and they were such a hidden gem, she doesn't write for jj but she has one fic for him that's SO good and like 2 blurbs (one...two)

then i'm gonna say @collecting-stories, i think this was one of the first "jj" blogs i read for (i say that in quotes because she has SO much content for SO many fandoms, it's like a gold mine)

oh! and @zyafics PLEASE SHE'S LIKE A SMAU GOD, heartbreak:live reeled me tf in, which dropped me into the lap of red ferrari chase and i'm still reading kildarewatch (ongoing) but her masterlist is like heaven

and @rvfecamerons (totally not another blog i binged...), everything is just beyond amazing but this is also another dark blog so please, again, mind the creator's boundaries & warnings

andd this list is getting way too long, and i know i'm missing so many other talented people but i have rec's tags for both rafe and jj with all of those missed creators so, check it out on my pinned post love! xx

[buckxtommy]

Bucktommy for 12.making out against the rescue helicopter (lets be honest that exactly where those “flying lessons” will lead)

exactly how those flying lessons actually went 😌 [wip]

added my twist to the prompt, which is tommy smiling into the kiss– sth i can totally see him doing <3

[ozzgin]

Hihi can you can you suggest a monster for me? It’s for something! >] The creepier the better 👁

(Also hello again! <3)

-❣️

You're being very vague, anon. Any kind? From any media? Because in that case I'd offer you some of my favorite Silent Hill monstrosities as suggestions.

In left to right order: Schism, Needler, Twin Victim. I gave them a little razzle dazzle, feel free to pick the cutest.

[azaharinflames]

Imagine being Buck and being broken up with by the man of your dreams because he thinks that one day you'll leave him for a man who will tell you you're making your grief all about you.

Tim, BUCK NEEDS A WIN

No, because it is insane. What a way to show the audience Eddie is not the one for Buck, Timothy.

I will say it is interesting that we have that scene happening in the same place Tommy brought it up, but in the completely opposite setting (light vs. dark). I won't say it has to mean something, but it is something very interesting to me. Like. What a way for the audience to subconsciously miss Tommy/someone who treated Buck right.

This is also one of the reasons why I say Buck desperately needs a win, and that can only come, at this point, from Tommy.

I saw someone else pointing it out and they are completely right - Buck's issues this season started with Tommy leaving him, which was a domino effect for everything else that happened. Slowly, we've started putting the pieces back up. So I don't think it is that crazy to think the last one to be put up can be Tommy.

[hyruling]

buddie prompt finale eve here we go 45. feeling their temperature 🥺

Eddie’s hot.

Which, okay. That’s like saying Maddie is his sister, or Christopher is the best kid in the world, or Chim is an annoying brother in law. Objectively true, directly observable statements of fact.

But Eddie’s hot. Like, sweating all over Buck under two blankets hot. And normally, as a cold-natured person, Buck would be very into that. But he can feel sweat soaking through the two layers of Eddie’s t-shirt and Buck’s hoodie, pressed together as they are in the center of Buck’s bed. A new development in his life as Eddie’s roommate that he is handling very normally, by the way.

“Eddie,” Buck whispers in the quiet.

Eddie doesn’t stir. Buck reaches over him, trapped by Eddie’s head on his chest, and checks Eddie’s phone — three thirty-two in the morning. They have to be up for a shift in two and a half hours.

“Eddie,” Buck tries again, nudging him with his shoulder, but he’s still dead to the world. He hates to wake him from such a deep slumber — he tries to gently roll him off instead but Eddie clings, the way he tends to do in his sleep. A fact Buck is intimately familiar with after a month of sharing a bed.

“Hey,” Buck murmurs, and switches tactics. He gently pushes Eddie’s sweaty hair off his forehead and mutters his name again. Briefly, he wonders if he forgot to turn the air down before bed, but he can hear it blowing above their heads along with the fan. Eddie is a white noise snob, insists on keeping the fan and air purifier both on all night. He claims it drowns out Buck’s snoring, usually with a teasing lilt in his voice that drives him crazy, but honestly, he has a point. Buck’s never slept better.

Eddie finally stirs after Buck strokes his hair for a minute, snuffling into Buck’s neck with his eyes still closed. “‘S matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just a little hot in here. I’m gonna go turn the air down.”

“No,” Eddie says, voice pitched in an uncharacteristic whine. He wraps a sweaty thigh around Buck’s, effectively trapping him even further. “‘M cold.”

“You’re cold?” Buck asks incredulously. “You’re sweating Eddie.”

Eddie just groans, mashing his face against Buck’s neck, and it’s then that he can feel how warm Eddie’s face is.

“Hey, c’mere.”

He’s still half asleep himself, can barely muster the energy needed to manhandle a sleepy and slightly combative Eddie, but he manages to maneuver him around enough to lay a hand on his forehead. It’s hot, fever hot, and Buck is abruptly wide awake.

“Eddie, hey. I think you have a fever.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie mumbles.

“No, hey, don’t go back to sleep. We need to get some Tylenol in you, and some water.”

“‘M fine, Buck, lemme sleep.”

“I will, I promise, you just—you gotta let me get some medicine in you, okay?”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans. “Fine.”

He releases his grip on Buck, who scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping over the jeans he didn’t manage to get into the hamper earlier. He makes a pit stop in the kitchen for a bottle of water. In the bathroom, he grabs Tylenol and wets a washcloth, then returns to the bedroom to see Eddie curled into a ball under the comforter, shivering.

“Hey, sit up for me, okay?” Buck says. He perches on the sheets next to him and rubs his thumb over Eddie’s collarbone.

Eddie obeys with a little more gentle coaxing, eyes glazed and exhausted when he finally opens them. Buck gets him to swallow the Tylenol and presses the cool washcloth against his forehead. Eddie grunts appreciatively and downs nearly the rest of the water without Buck even nagging him.

“Throat hurts,” Eddie rasps, handing the bottle back. His shirt is soaked in sweat.

“Yeah, you’re sick bud. Think you caught that bug Jamison had last week.”

Eddie giggles for some reason, and says, “Bud. Bug. ‘S almost the same word.”

And Buck — normally, Buck would laugh with him. Would tease out more delirious ramblings, and secretly delight in how cute he is any time his inhibitions are lowered. But right now, after everything, all he can feel is a dull sort of panic climbing its way up his throat, making it hard to breathe.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Buck says with an uneasy chuckle. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“You’re my bud,” Eddie continues, poking Buck in the chest. His eyes are half-lidded, glinted with mischief, and he grins crookedly at Buck. “My—my bud bug. My bed bug, ha.”

His heart gives a helpless little tug, made worse by Eddie dragging his finger down Buck’s chest and curling possessively in the pocket of his hoodie. “Okay, Eddie. You’re pretty out of it, I think maybe I need to take you to an urgent care.”

“Nooo, it’s just a fever,” Eddie protests, tugging at Buck’s hoodie. “I can sleep it off.”

“Eddie—”

“No. Our deductible is like. Stupid high, bug, I can’t afford it right now.”

Buck is momentarily comforted that he can think about his deductible while in this state, but that bug nags at him. Almost as much as it sends heat flooding into his cheeks.

“My name’s Buck, Eddie.”

“I know that, Evan,” Eddie snarks, and at the rate Eddie’s nickname and full-naming him, Buck’s gonna have to call an ambulance for himself. “I’m not that far gone. Can I go to sleep now?”

“Let me at least call Hen—”

“Don’t bother Hen,” Eddie insists. “It’s the middle of the night, and I’m a medic. I think I would know if I was dying.”

“It didn’t—”

Buck cuts himself off. He can’t lay this on Eddie tonight, when he’s half asleep and zonked from fever. But Eddie latches on like a tick, eyes suddenly sharp, and the hand tucked in Buck’s pocket wraps around his wrist instead.

“Didn’t what?”

“Nothing,” Buck says. “C’mon, lay back down.”

“Buck,” Eddie says firmly, shockingly so. “We aren’t doing that again. Talk to me.”

“In the morning,” Buck tries, but Eddie shakes his head, presses his fingers into Buck’s pulse point.

“Buck.”

Buck sighs, knows Eddie won’t get any rest until Buck explains himself.

“It’s just. Bobby, he didn’t—he didn’t die in a fire, or in a rescue, he—he got sick. And I know, I know it’s not the same thing, you’re not—but I just. I don’t know. It’s dragging up some—some shit, I guess. I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not—”

He snaps his mouth shut with a click, but it’s too late. He’s laid himself bare, and for a moment he desperately hopes Eddie won’t remember this in the morning.

Eddie stares at him, mouth set in a small frown. The hand on his wrist squeezes, a gentle and grounding pressure against his thundering heartbeat. Eddie must be able to feel it, but he just strokes his thumb softly over Buck’s hand and says, “You’re right, it’s not the same. I’m okay, Buck. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I know,” Buck says. I’m going to make sure of it this time, he doesn’t. “But you’re a notoriously bad patient, so you need to trust me.”

Eddie chuckles, then coughs, a rough sound that makes Eddie wince. “Says the guy who wanted to come back to work a week after literally dying.”

“It was two weeks.”

Eddie waves a hand. His eyes are drooping again, and he shivers a bit. “Semantics.”

“Okay, come on. Let’s change your shirt and get you back to sleep. I’ll call Hen in the morning, tell her we’re not coming in.”

Eddie grumbles a bit about Buck not needing to take time off just for him, but Buck can tell his heart’s not really in it. Buck tugs off his shirt and grabs the first clean one he finds, which happens to be one of his. Not that either of them are paying all that much attention to that kind of detail anymore, another facet of his new living situation that he refuses to look at directly. He gets Eddie into it and makes him finish the bottle of water before he all but collapses back onto the pillows.

Buck climbs back in on his side, pulls the comforter up over Eddie’s shoulders when he starts shaking again. Eddie shuffles close like he’s going to koala himself around Buck again, but hesitates at the last second.

“I can—sleep on the couch,” Eddie offers around a jaw-cracking yawn. “Don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Oh, yeah, actually, would you mind?” Buck teases, just to see the look of shock and betrayal that passes over Eddie’s face. He doesn’t disappoint — Buck laughs, and Eddie swears in Spanish under his breath.

“It’s rude to tease a sick person, you know,” he says, then tucks himself back against Buck’s side, head pillowed on his chest

Buck snorts and pulls Eddie closer. “It’s too late anyway. I’m sure I’ll be right behind you.”

Eddie hums, drawls, “I’ll take care of you. If you are.”

Buck closes his eyes, and pretends the warmth spreading through him is from Eddie’s overheated skin. “You always do.”

He checks Eddie’s forehead again, and Eddie mutters sleepily, “Y’know, lips are a better measure of body temperature than hands.”

Buck stills, heart in his throat. “That so?” he croaks.

Eddie nods, jaw digging in Buck’s clavicle. “More sens’tive. I’m a medic, I would know.”

“Guess you would,” Buck manages with a soft chuckle. He wishes he had brought another bottle of water to bed, throat suddenly parched.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Eddie mumbles with a shoulder nudge, hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

And Buck, unable to deny Eddie anything in the best of circumstances, twists his neck and presses his lips to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighs, and Buck would swear he leans into it, gives Buck no choice but to let his mouth linger over the dry, overwarm skin. Eddie’s hair tickles his nose — he can smell their shampoo and a faint hint of sweat, and breathes him in while he can.

“Still sick,” Buck declares, lips brushing Eddie’s forehead. “Go to sleep.”

He doesn’t respond, and Buck thinks maybe he’s finally drifted off. But just as he’s about to fall asleep himself, Eddie noses at Buck’s neck and murmurs, “Thanks, bug,” close to his ear.

It’s almost worth the misery of the weeklong cold he catches, just for that.

—

prompts xo

[sevsbunny]

u said vi requests and i deliverrr, reader saying some outta pocket sexual remark about vi like girl is taking a picture in the mirror to track her gym process and r is like “i could just bite ur back”

ohhhh

god the way that reader would be giving vi sex eyes THROUGH the mirror while she’s checking out vi taking pictures of herself and flexing

like reader is fucking DROOLING and you have to compose yourself when she turns around to take a front view picture and you’re met with her corded fucking back

“let me bite you” you remark as you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her big muscles and you take her shoulder into your mouth as you take a small bit

she groans under you for a second before flexing he back a bit more for you and you have to stop yourself from pushing her up agains the mirror and begging for her to fuck you

“stop doing that before i get on my knees for you” you mumble against her skin, and she chuckles.

“maybe that’s what i want, ever think of that?”

[fairyjiu]

Easy Dance for anon

[cervinae-canine]

Imagine dressing up pretty for your F/O's...

Soldier giddily clasping his hands together, with a beaming smile, as you tip the helmet slipping over your eyes up with one hand, as the other holds a rifle over your shoulder. You got the nicest army uniform, with a lovely patch of the American flag or three decorating you. You will be an anti-commie-hippie-nazi force together.

Demo's scrumpy pouring from his bottle to the floor, as he watches you, slack-jawed, in the garb of an ancient Scottish warrior, furs reminiscent of explosions, and a beautiful sword serving as little more than decoration. The thing is heavy, but as he put it, you look bloody mesmerising.

Heavy sighing wistfully, as his eyes study your dress, befitting a knyaz, or a tsar, the hefty jewellery of bullets weighing your neck, head, and hands down, as you try to stand with a straight back, the very model of a painted figure he'd admire on the pages of history books. He's already pretty quiet, but, he is utterly speechless this time.

Engineer whistling lowly, as he admires you from the cowboy hat, down to the spurs, several handsome tools in place of a gun in your holster. Caterin' just to him, that you are, with the proud combo of his spirit and his passions in your clothes. Yer spoilin' him, he says with a shy smile.

Medic gasping softly, as he watches you twirl in your nurse dress, half-laughing half-ooh'ing and aah'ing at every little detail that reminds him of home. The hat, the suspenders, the boots, it's a little silly to most, but to him, you're the best, cutest assistant he could ever ask for! ... Excuse his excitement, schatz, he's just very pleased to see you, is all.

Sniper murmuring "Holy Mother of...", looking at you above his sunglasses, and from under his hat, his face getting even longer - the hunter-esque attire is a personal attack. And the handsome rifle you apparently got as a gift for him, and presented with the rest of yourself? When you already look like Cupid himself gave you an unseen bow to strike his heart with? Crikey, he's in love...

Spy raising his brows, and giving an appreciative "Hmm!", as he nods. The béret? The classy, yet casually appropriate suit? You could approach him anywhere any day, and his focus on the façade of suave calm might dwindle just a little bit. Positively enchanting, he says, eyes fluttering just a tad too dreamily to truly hide how enamoured he is.

Miss Pauling stammering and stumbling over her words, when you catch her off-guard. You look really nice- That's what she's trying to say, yeah, because the way you did your hair, and the shoes, and the tie- Is that a gun in the hidden inner pocket of your jacket? That's, wow, she- Can she look at it? And also generally move closer to you? For no reason at all, you're just so gorgeous- ... Did she say that out loud?

- Penis Anon. (Jumpscare again.)

[greennoobartist]

POSITIVITY Anon here to wipe clean your page of any negativity!

🧼🧼🧼🧼🧼🧼🪣🪣💧💧

*scrubs agressivley*

Tadaaaaa 🫶✨️✨️✨️

*skedaddles away*

*in surprise just moved aside and with confused face watched you do the job*

... Thx?

*takes out 10$* here, least way I can thank ig, you did clean so I guess that's a job that should be payed

*watched you skedaddle away* ... Well, i did definitely have some negativity around today so appreciated ^^

[red-dye40]

As someone who's been a "Sammy" it's eerie how well written Newfag is

i've had quite a few run-ins with irl francis kunters myself

[elixirfromthestars]

‘Just a roommate’ is either angsty or spicy… 👀

You have it right with the angst there, my lovely 👀 Thank you for the ask!! 🫶🏼

Just A Roommate is a wip that’s still in its early stages, but the overall premise of it is that you, the reader, have been roommates with Jake for a couple of years now. Throughout deployments, trainings, and missions, his life has been anything, but stable.

Except for you. You are the only constant in his life. You’re his closest friend, his roommate, his confidant, the person who he can talk about anything and everything with, and maybe there’s more there between you that can be explored, but neither of you have made a move to explore it. Leaving whatever those feelings are, simmering under the surface.

You have been crushing on Jake for the longest time, but you’re convinced the feelings are one sided. So, the next time Jake is deployed for a few months you decide it’s time to move on. Your decision leads you to once again download those dating apps and try again.

Jake has never let himself consider more than a friendship with you. He likes the way things are. He likes the stability of it, the way you are the one thing he can count on to be constant in his life. Of course, there’s something deeper he feels for you, but this man is in total denial.

However, Jake is forced to face his feelings when he returns and you give him the devestating news that you’re seeing someone. Not only that, but if all things go well, you might even potentially get to the point where you’ll move out of your shared apartment and eventually Jake’s life.

Jake does not like that. He does not like that at all.

And let all the angsty goodness ensue from there!! 🤭

ask about my wips 📝✨

[azaharinflames]

It’s interesting how Lou’s interview went out the window for some people. He clarified post interview as well so his answers to that specific question we should see a bit of that in 818. I don’t think the building collapse will last as long as some people think it will. As well narratively BT do not need a lot in order to get back together because of how they set them up in 811 and 815, they just need a little push.

Jesus Christ, Nonnie, thank you for pointing this out bc I thought I was going crazy.

I received a couple of other asks that also brought up Lou's interview, so I'm answering those with this one as well <3

I do feel like a lot of people have completely forgotten about it or assumed he was just speculating about all of it. Something I personally don't agree with, given that he also refused to speak on certain topics in case they went against what writers could do with his character.

I think 818 could follow the same structure as 618, where the emergency wasn't as long as initially assumed, and they have more or less half the episode to deal with more personal stuff. I know there is a lot to deal with, but some of it can and will possibly be dealt with during the emergency. And some of the things we guess can happen can be part of a final montage.

I genuinely don't understand why there is this insistence/confidence that absolutely nothing will happen with Bucktommy in the next episode (and ngl, this confidence does give me some anxiety). 815 especially made it so their reunion can be short and to the point. Would that be a bit disappointing? Yeah. We all wanted something more, an actual conversation, but 911 has never been the series for that. They've made it so they can have them reuniting in a single scene and, whilst rushed, it wouldn't feel crazy.