#Tommy getting struck by lightning

[parva-noctua]

Buck: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted.

Tommy: I’m “a couple of things”.

Eddie: I’m “got distracted”.

#getting struck by lightning for this #incorrect 911 quotes #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz

[buckttommy]

do you ever think about how tommy knows who buck is well before he meets him. and i don't even mean in, like, a "friend-of-a-friend" way. i mean, it is canon that the 118 is practically famous in the LAFD for everything they go through, and so. he knows who buck is. he doesn't put all the pieces together until they're post-sex one day and he's drawing little patterns on buck's back with his finger and buck talks about almost losing eddie. and tommy's like oh, the well. he told me about that. and buck shakes his head, like, no, no, i mean the shooting. i was standing right in front of him when it happened. and tommy sits the fuck up because. like. no. no. like he'd heard about it, of course; he had to wear the same bulletproof vests everyone else in his social circle did but he's like "that was you?" and coincidentally, this is also when buck learns that there is grainy footage of the shooting, that the worst moment of his life has been documented and viewed by people, but anyway buck winces and is just like. um. yeah? and that just kicks tommy in the chest, because like. it's just weird isn't it? how many times these two people that he knows and cares about so much now almost died so many times before, and for all that he was aware of it tangentially, he wasn't actually aware of it and what that would mean for/to him in the future. he was almost robbed of the opportunity to know both of them and he didn't even realize it.

i just think that's crazy to think about.

also. tommy did not flinch when buck said that the helicopter ride is the most fun thing that's happened to him since getting struck by lightning which makes me think he's also heard that story. and i'm just like. and you chose to date a walking danger magnet? as in no one is holding a gun to your head and making you? staggering. congratulations tommy, buck must be made of stardust and gold. anyways. much to contemplate.

#this textpost was made possible by three other people #teamwork! #jack.txt #tv: 911 #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tuckposting

[renecdote]

rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

#Evan Buckley #911 abc #911 Spoilers #fic

[dangerpronebuddie]

hi maggie 🥰

70 for the 100 kiss prompts please!!

Hi Nolan 🥰

I loved this one! Hope you like it darling 💕

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 30/?

70. An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

Summary:

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

(read below!)

They're sitting on Eddie's couch, talking over some (admittedly dull) action movie Chim recommended, one night they both managed to have free.

Eddie had ended things with Marisol at the makeshift wedding in the hospital, and hasn't been eager to "get back out there." He still doesn't know why he decided then was the best time, but it was for the best. When you spend the entire day wishing you could marry your best friend and not your girlfriend, there's something wrong with the relationship.

Buck and Tommy had decided to stay friends, and the three of them still got together often for fights or a beer, (no basketball. Not again), and Buck hasn't jumped back into dating yet.

And, with Chris being the social butterfly Eddie never was, the kid was at yet another sleepover, leaving Buck and Eddie without any plans.

So, pizza and about three beers later, Buck is deciding whether to stay the night. Something he hasn't done in months. Not since he came to Eddie after the lightning.

“Come on, do you really want to drive home at one in the morning?” Eddie reasons. He pretends his reasons for offering the couch are noble. They're actually… kinda pathetic. Be in love with your best friend and try to keep your dignity, or your sanity.

Buck smiles and sips his beer. “If I didn't know any better I'd say you've missed me.”

I always miss you when you go, Eddie doesn't say. “Oh yeah. I don't know how I manage to sleep without your snoring as a lullaby,” he says instead, tugging on a curl behind Buck's ear.

Buck gently elbows him in the ribs. “If that's your way to convince me…”

“I never said my negotiation techniques were good,” Eddie shrugs.

“They're terrible,” Buck scoffs, earning himself an elbow to the ribs right back. He giggles and ducks his head with a smile, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. “Okay, I'll stay. Wouldn't want you to have to sleep without my snoring as your white noise machine.”

“What do you know? My negotiation techniques worked!” Eddie grins.

Buck rolls his eyes and shoves at his shoulder. “I will never admit it.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

He has no idea what made him do it.

Maybe the box holding his feelings for Buck had finally exploded. Maybe his brain got up the courage without telling him the plan. Maybe it was the easy affection they'd been exchanging recently. Shoulder touches, lingering hugs, knees pressed together in the engine or on the couch.

Maybe it was just Buck.

Either way, Eddie feels like he's been struck by lightning again.

Judging by the wide eyed stare he's getting from Buck, he's at least not alone in his confusion.

“Eds,” Buck whispers, glancing at Eddie's lips.

“I'm sor-”

Buck surges forward, stealing the words from his lips and cupping his cheek. Eddie sighs into the kiss and melts against him, reaching up to card his fingers through soft curls.

Buck grips Eddie's hips, nudging him until he gets the message. Eddie throws a leg over Buck and straddles him, never once breaking their kiss.

He has no idea what's happening. But there's no way he's going to stop it.

Buck slips his hands beneath Eddie's henley, splaying his palms on his ribs as he teases the seam of his lips apart. Eddie makes a soft noise as Buck licks into his mouth. He tangles his fingers in Buck's curls and settles more firmly in his lap.

They kiss until the need for oxygen separates them. Eddie rests his forehead against Buck's. Buck traces nonsensical patterns on Eddie's lower back.

“Guess actions really do speak louder than words,” Buck smirks. Eddie kisses the expression off his face.

“Stay,” Eddie whispers, and it feels right. Asking Marisol to stay always made something sour twist in his gut.

All he feels now is butterflies, giddy and fizzy like champagne.

“That was the plan,” Buck says with a cheeky grin.

“Stay,” Eddie says again, pouring everything it's too soon to say into the word.

I want you, stay. Don't sleep on the couch, stay. I love you, stay.

Buck presses a soft kiss to his lips, just like their first kiss and yet somehow completely different. “Okay. I'll stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” Eddie whispers before kissing him again.

From 100 kiss prompts

#Nolan 🩵 #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 abc #fanfic #my writing #Kiss Me Once #911 fic #buddie fic #9-1-1

[half-bakedboy]

Tommy Taking care of Buck when sick or injured

Evan has a cold but if anyone could see him right now, Tommy believes they’d think he had the bubonic plague. 

“You know, for someone who has been crushed by a firetruck, made it through a tsunami, and got struck by lightning, you sure are reacting to a stuffy nose like it’s the end of the world.”

Evan smacks him, but he laughs despite it.

“I am suffering, Tommy. Christopher’s a teenager now, he’s not supposed to bring home germs like a toddler. Isn’t that how it works?” Evan complains. 

“I’m pretty sure schools are just cesspools no matter what age.” 

Tommy strokes a hand over Evan’s forehead to check his temperature as he’s done a few times over the past hour. He’s not too hot, but clammy, most likely from the weighted blanket he has pulled up to his neck. He’s tried to convince Evan to use something lighter, but it’s not an argument he’s going to win. 

“What can I get you?” Tommy asks softly. He presses a gentle kiss on Evan’s forehead, lingering for a moment when Evan leans into the gesture. 

It might actually be killing Tommy not to kiss him. 

“Do I have any SpaghettiOs? Maddie used to stock my kitchen up with them before she moved in with Chimney.” He pouts as he speaks, and Tommy feels like he’s going to lose it. 

He stands up abruptly and wanders to the kitchen, searching through every cabinet for the one thing Evan wants. He’s grateful when he finds a top shelf full of soup and a small note from Maddie telling him to feel better. It isn’t dated, but something tells Tommy that it’s been there for a while. It makes him smile, knowing that he’s always been cared for and that Chimney is being cared for by her now. 

He grabs the can of SpaghettiOs and tries to decide if Evan would rather have them on the stove or the microwave—the one other time Tommy tried to make something on the stove that was microwavable led to the great hot dog debate that pulled in the entire 118, so he goes with the microwave. By the time three minutes have passed, he can hear Evan snoring loudly on the couch. 

Evan is a sight to behold. He’s sprawled out on the couch that is just a little too short for his long frame, mouth wide open, nose reddened from tissue rash, and the blanket he’d fought Tommy to keep thrown to the floor. It’s quite possibly the most adorable scene he’s ever witnessed, and he’s done helicopter tours for kids. 

Without hesitation, Tommy pulls the much lighter blanket off of the back of the couch and rests it over Evan's frame so he has something to keep him comfortable. He picks up Evan’s legs carefully and reaches for the remote to change the TV over to some soft indie music channel Evan seems to enjoy when he’s relaxing. 

The book he’s been reading is just within reach, and he settles back into the couch to read. Evan’s snoring is loud and he’s seriously at risk of catching whatever Christopher had given Evan, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He’s going to be there when Evan wakes up. Even if he’s being overdramatic about his cold, Tommy knows there’s something inside Evan that needs taking care of, and he’s going to be the man to do that.

#911 on abc #bucktommy #kinley #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #answered #ficlets #my writing #anonymous #911 spoilers #truly see buck as a typical MAN when he has a cold #but not when hes like *enter injury here* #trauma minimizer = dramatic baby when sick #i dont make the rules #except in this case i do

[between-two-fandoms]

Firepilot hcs for the soul

Buck's absolute favorite thing is kissing his boyfriend. As often as he possibly can. No matter what.

They promise each other they will always do their best to come home safe after rough shifts.

Tommy has insecurities or abandonment issues after his last pre-Buck relationship ended poorly and suddenly the uno cards are reversed. Buck will find himself holding Tommy tight promising that yes this is real, they found each other, they arent letting each other go, Buck isn't leaving him.

Tommy using Buck if Evan is in trouble. (Hurt badly and lied about it, reckless on a rescue, ect). Usually it's reserved for when Tommy is truly afraid Evan is hurt or if Evan is insisting on doing something reckless and dangerous.

Tommy is extremely clingy when sick. He clutches onto his Evan and pleads for him to never let go.

They both help each other learn and grow and slowly realize how lucky they are to have each other. Buck feels like he's 14 giggling and kicking his feet whenever he and Tommy kiss.

For all his confidence and swagger Buck can make Tommy weak in the knees when he looks at him like he's something precious. Neither of them are used to being cherished like they are with each other.

On bad days they cuddle on the couch or in bed with ice cream and watch romcoms until they fall asleep in each other's arms.

The first time they sleep over together (just sleep, they're both exhausted from work and Tommy was over to make sure Buck was doing okay) Buck gets one of the best nights of sleep he's had since being struck by lightning.

#bucktommy #firepilot #tommy kinard #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 abc #911 show #boyfriends

[daemonsrhaenyra]

people accusing bucktommy shippers of being fake buddie fans like we haven't spent the last couple of years putting clown make-up on every single week, like we don't watch eddie getting shot together, like we didn't watch "because evan" together, like we didn't watch buck get struck by lightning and eddie's "do more" together, like we haven't read over 1,000+ fanfics for buddie....

Have you ever considered that your behaviour is hella toxic and I ship evan buckley with happiness, and right now Tommy is giving that to him?

#911 spoilers #911 abc #bucktommy #also the person who thought it'd be great idea to immediately write a buddie fic in which tommy is abusing buck... #while canonically he's happy and settled for the first time in such a long while??? #are you a better shipper than us? like what the fuck. Write your hurt fics with original male characters - leave tommy alone #text post

[un-namedfan]

Buck tells Tommy that the night in the helicopter was, "the most fun I'd had since being struck by lightning."

To which Tommy replies, "you need to raise your bar, kid."

Buck then tells him he's just using that as a "point of reference."

Interesting that getting struck by lightning causes sparks, and what do we feel when we meet someone and like them immediately?? You know... sparks.

.... I'll just leave this here.

#alexa play sparks fly by taytay #911 fandom #911 abc #evan buckley #911 speculation #tommy kinard #911 #tevan #bucktommy

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Air Rescue Therapy???

Before I delve into this, let me be crystal clear, I always have and I always will ship BUDDIE and only BUDDIE!

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...

This picture above is from OS's day in the life video and IMO, based solely on the civilian clothes Eddie and Tommy are wearing and since Buck’s in mostly civilian clothes, except for his hoodie which is an LAFD one, to me it looks like Buck might be working through a newly developed fear by doing something with air rescue. Or maybe he's questioning something else about the job but based on their clothes, they're not on duty.

Why do I think this might be what they're doing?

First, Buck's wearing his white high tops and the only time he wears them is when something is going on with him and/or he's uncertain about something like his job.

Reminder, he was wearing them in 3x1 - 3x3 during the Tsunami.

He was wearing them in 4x13 and 4x14 during the shooting.

And he was wearing them in 6x15 when him and Eddie were at the cemetery.

Second, something is clearly going on with Buck in early season 7 and it's evident from his hesitancy when the alarm sounds and he looks up to the ceiling like he doesn't want to go when they're being dispatched to an emergency. He's NEVER done that before so IMO, he's struggling with something that's dealing with work. Maybe the heights of being in a helicopter after being struck by lightning. Reminder, they'll be flying into a hurricane when they go rescue Bobby and Athena so maybe Buck's trying "to be the same old Buck mostly for the sake of everyone else" (his words from 6x15) but Eddie notices because he KNOWS HIM TO HIS CORE.

Why do I believe this?

Well, I always give credit to whom it's due and after I watched the video, I remembered one of @loveyourownsmiilee's speculation posts that I read either last week or week before (I can't remember when I did because there's been a lot of promos) but she pointed out that Bobby's voice over with him saying, "I can't tell you how to feel about the job... only you can do that" followed by the camera panning to Eddie, may have been a "red herring" since it's possible Bobby may have actually been talking to Buck or to Eddie about Buck.

The scene they were filming makes it appear that Buck is/was questioning being in the air again especially since it was storming. Reminder, he was 70 feet in the air when he got struck by lightning and it was raining. I think Eddie may have organized a day time helicopter ride (reminder it was never nighttime in Buck’s coma dream) and Eddie talked to Tommy so Buck could take a ride or do some type of training to get over his possible fear.

Reminder, in 5x14 Buck did research to find out where Charlie #3 was and then he took Eddie and Chris to Equine Therapy to help Eddie and I think Eddie’s going to do the same thing for Buck in season 7.

They're paralleling each other again and they're going to be there for each other like never before (paraphrase from one of RG's interviews).

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 on abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #ryan guzman #oliver stark

[mountedeverest]

Maybe you do know me

Fandom: 911 on ABC Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Rating: T (very mild smut, some words) Words: 2.8k

Snippet: I’m pathetic… Buck took off his jacket and sat on his bed, exhaling a huff in desperation. He took his head in his hands, wondering how he did it so effortlessly before. Was it really that different, now that it was a man? Should it be? It certainly felt different, but different how? Going back to that night, that moment in his kitchen, Buck tried putting words to the memory. He remembered how Tommy’s eyes burned on him just moments before they kissed, how Tommy’s fingers seared him under his chin, how firm Tommy’s arm felt under the palm of his hand. He also remembered how pliant he had felt after Tommy had kissed him, how gooey it turned his insides, how out of it it made him.  Fingers slowly drifted to his lips as Buck remembered the moment that turned his life completely upside down and sat him on his ass hard. He had a word for it now, that feeling: desired.  He wanted to feel like that again.

Notes: This is kind of a spec fic for *SPOILERS* Buck and Tommy's date next episode (7x05). I have been unable to function since yesterday and just HAD to get this out of my system! I do intend to continue this fic and bring the rating from T, to M, to eventually, E.

Fic under the cut

—

Buck was a bouncing ball of energy, buzzing as if he’d only just been struck by lightning. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, except run them through his hair, and then curse himself for messing it up. He was excited, nervous, a little terrified. And he was having an outfit crisis. 

At first, he’d gone casual chic, fancy but not too fancy, first date and all. Then he’d seen the absurdity of his choice and shifted to a classic henley, leather jacket, cool guy stuff. He felt off somehow, like he was putting on a costume, still vying for attention. He felt like he was dressing up as Eddie. 

I’m pathetic… Buck took off his jacket and sat on his bed, exhaling a huff in desperation. He took his head in his hands, wondering how he did it so effortlessly before. Was it really that different, now that it was a man? Should it be?

It certainly felt different, but different how? Going back to that night, that moment in his kitchen, Buck tried putting words to the memory. He remembered how Tommy’s eyes burned on him just moments before they kissed, how Tommy’s fingers seared him under his chin, how firm Tommy’s arm felt under the palm of his hand. He also remembered how pliant he had felt after Tommy had kissed him, how gooey it turned his insides, how out of it it made him. 

Fingers slowly drifted to his lips as Buck remembered the moment that turned his life completely upside down and sat him on his ass hard. He had a word for it now, that feeling: desired. 

He wanted to feel like that again.

All of a sudden, he knew what he was wearing. His fashion renaissance in the past years had him turning to clothes he wouldn’t have worn at twenty, but now made him feel tender and virile at the same time, comfortable and sexy. It wasn’t much, it certainly wasn’t obscene, but the blue open collared shirt, the slightly high-waisted pants, it accentuated his everything. 

The blue of his shirt brought out his eyes, his butt looked great and his waist seemed itty bitty as his shoulders looked broad and huge in the tight fitting shirt.

“Damn…” Buck looked in the mirror, hair fluffed and a blush high on his cheeks. “I’d fuck me.”

As if on cue, he heard a knock at the door. Can’t turn back now, Buck told himself, and strode down the stairs from his bedroom to his door, a little kick in his step. 

Buck knew he wasn’t prepared, but he was particularly not prepared to see Tommy on the other side of his door looking like that.

“Hey.” The tone was like gravel and honey, low and sweet and syrupy. Tommy was leaning slightly, a soft smile tugging the side of his mouth. His eyelids were heavy and he smelled good. 

Buck auto-combusted right there, his face a fully caramelized beet red now for sure. If a simple chaste kiss had been the catalyst for many inappropriate semis over the past few days (once, when a helicopter flew over his head at the end of a call), this vision of Tommy now – after everything had been put into a new light – was melting him down. 

“H-hi, uhh, come inside? You look, I-I mean you look–” Buck’s face spoke for him, all nervous stammering and pointed looks to where Tommy’s shirt was unbuttoned slightly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Evan.” Tommy answered with a grin, striding into the loft like this wasn’t the most charged moment of his life. Tommy was so cool and collected it was driving Buck crazy.

Bashful, Buck let out a small laugh. “Thanks, picked it out myself too.” Buck didn’t know if this was working or if he was actually being terribly awkward. Tommy’s eyes, however, hadn’t looked anywhere but at Buck since he’d stepped into the loft, and they seemed awfully appreciative of the sight before them. 

“Let me just- uh, grab a coat, a-and then we can go?” Buck asked.

“Take your time.” Tommy answered back. His face was soft and fond. “We got all night.” 

—

The date went as well as you’d expect for a newly minted bisexual man in his early thirties. Which is to say that Tommy was very patient and also, wow Buck was nervous. Reassurance was not in short supply from Tommy though, who – Buck guessed – must have gone through something similar at some point in his life. 

He was starting to calm down and get down with the playfulness of it all when his house of cards fell all around him, blown down by one Eddie Diaz. The odds.

He hadn’t told Eddie yet, the last they’d seen each other was on the court. They had talked, of course. They’re best friends, they made up and talked about everything and nothing. But not about that, not yet. 

What followed was the most excruciatingly awkward 10-minute not-double-date with him and Tommy, and Eddie and Marisol, and a big, giant elephant in the room in between all of them. Eddie was insisting on splitting a table with them, How often does that happen?!, but Tommy, the savior that he was, got them out of it.

“As much as we’d love to, we just grabbed the check here and are officially moving on to our next event. But it’s great to see you, man!” Tommy said effortlessly, like Buck wasn’t just stewing in embarrassment on his chair.

“Yeah, i-it’s great to see you, Eds. Hope your ankle’s feeling better!” Buck said in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

“Oh I see what this is.” Eddie said suddenly. 

Buck’s stomach dropped. He wanted to tell Eddie, but not like this. 

“Tommy, you’re about to sweep the entire 118 off their feet! You sure it’s not just a thinly veiled attempt to come back?” Eddie laughed and Buck deflated instantly.

Oh thank god. Thank god Eddie was so hetero and so stupidly unaware.

“Haha, you got me! Nah, just hanging out. Turns out Evan and I also have plenty in common. Which, seeing how you two are best friends, makes a hell lot of sense.”

“Ach, alas, you’ll probably end up liking him more than me, he’s a much better cook.” Eddie said in mock dejection. “As long as Muay Thai Monday stays up, I’m good.”

“Dunno, we might have a new challenger here, after I train him that is.”

Eddie let out a full bellied laugh. Buck hadn’t seen him this carefree before. Maybe this whole thing between the three of them could be alright.

“Careful, Buck, he’s a lefty.” Eddie said, joyful and oblivious. “Alright, you guys enjoy your night. See you soon!”

—

“Sooo, is there actually a next event, or did you make that up to save me?” Buck asked and Tommy laughed, softly. They walked to Tommy’s truck side by side, bumping shoulders on the way.

“Do you want there to be a next event?” Tommy asked, a tone of suggestiveness in his voice.

“I-I wouldn’t mind.”

“Good. Because I had a little something planned.”

“Oh yeah?” Buck tried not to sound too giddy, the fire in his cheeks calmed somewhat by the cool night air.

“Yeah. Nothing big but,” Tommy smiles. “Mars and Saturn are supposed to be really visible in the sky tonight, I thought we could go up to the Griffith observatory, maybe catch a glimpse in the telescope before they close, and then open a nice claret and stargaze in the grass?”

Buck’s breath gets punched out of him. The attention, the stargazing, it feels all very romantic. He was being wooed, and he was enjoying it.

“That sounds… perfect.”

—

They were laying on their elbows side by side on a blanket and pillows on the sandy grass in one of the more secluded areas of Griffith park. It was harder to access, closer to the cliffs. Tommy called it his secret spot; he’d joked that he’d found it during a call. Next to them, travel mugs half filled with wine abandoned for the moment.

“This is amazing. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I last saw stars.” Buck said.

“Yeah, LA isn’t great for that. Now, the best place to stargaze is Joshua Tree. Set up a tent in the desert, spend the night under the milky way. It’s incredible.” Tommy hit his last word looking at Buck lazily. Feeling his gaze, Buck turned as well. However awkward Buck might have felt at the start of this whole thing, whatever was going on now was much different. It felt electric. “I can take you sometime.”

“I’d love to be taken.” Buck said, a dazed smile tugging at his mouth. Tommy caught the innuendo before Buck could and smirked, just as Buck realized what he’d just said. Thankful the dark night hid his flush once again, Buck cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, d-did you plan this knowing I’m a huge astronomy nerd? Did Eddie tell you?” Buck said, trying to distract himself from the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Mostly, I was looking for an excuse to be alone with you.” Tommy said, low. “If you want that.”

“I do.” Buck said softly, entranced. A beat passed as Buck suddenly realized he should probably attempt to manage expectations. Apart from one-off, meaningless kisses here and there in his 1.0 days, he’s never been intimate with a man. Being kissed by Tommy also made him realize how new he was at this. The last time he was new at intimacy was at fourteen, he never thought he would be there again. “I-I’m not–”

“You’re not what?”

“Experienced.” Buck winced. “Not like that, anyway.”

“It’s okay, Evan. I’m not rushing you. I’m happy going at your pace.” Tommy smiled, eyes hooded. 

Buck felt like goo.

“Thing is–” Buck didn’t know if it was the wine, or something else, but a sudden surge of courage overcame him. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else since you kissed me.” Buck held Tommy’s gaze like it was a challenge. He let his eyes fall from Tommy’s eyes to his lips, before licking his own absentmindedly. “And I very much would like to do that again.” 

A hand gently grabbed the side of Buck’s face, lips pressed into his own, softly, but with force Buck wasn’t used to. This time, Tommy didn’t waste a second on pleasantries, slipping Buck tongue immediately. It was slow, smooth, fluid. Somewhere in the back of his throat, Buck let escape a delicate moan he wasn’t even aware was there. Tommy responded in kind, slipping his hand in Buck’s hair and tugging slightly.

Buck felt swept away by the kiss, and whatever it was that Tommy was giving him at the moment, he wanted more. The time for experience over eagerness would come, but for now, Buck was at least good at that. 

Buck’s hand found purchase on Tommy’s ribs, gripping his shirt. He swiped his own tongue over Tommy’s bottom lip before biting, gently, and turning Tommy back on his elbows. Understanding the invitation, Tommy sat up, and pulled Buck over his lap, his hand leaving Buck’s hair to guide his thigh instead. 

Buck had big strong thighs. He had big strong everything, in fact. He wasn’t small in any sense of the term. But here, straddling Tommy, he felt tiny. In the best way.

They were the same height, yes, but Tommy was a bit bigger. He had bigger hands for one, which Buck could feel running up the side of his thighs to his back, sneaking under his shirt. They were warm.

Buck was used to his own hands feeling big on everything, everyone. But not on Tommy. Feeling Tommy’s pecs through his shirt, gripping the back of his head as Tommy bit and sucked into his neck, it was intoxicating. 

Tommy was also big somewhere else. Through layers of denim and cotton, Buck felt the unmistakable pressure of a bulge, nestled just under his own. Now in that department, Buck could still win. But if his estimation was correct, as a man who’d never felt any other bulge but his own, that was weapons-grade cock.

The realization made him dizzy with want, but this was going a little fast. He’d only just found out he was into men days ago. He needed to process some things. Either Tommy was a mind reader or really in tune with Buck’s feelings because he slowed down, his kisses becoming less hungry and his touches less searching.

“I should take you home... Before, we commit a felony in Griffith park.” Tommy said, laughing, nose bumping with Buck’s as they kissed gently. 

���Pretty sure it’s just a misdemeanor.” Buck chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny in my life.” Buck paused. “But I don’t want to burn any steps.”

“Wise.” Tommy answered back, slightly out of breath. 

Neither made a move to detangle themselves at first, until a gust of wind threatened to knock their forgotten wine mugs over. 

Quick panic was superimposed with unabashed laughter as they packed, attacked on all sides by the unpredictable winds of southern California. When they got back to the truck, all smiles and giggling, Tommy shot a fond look at Buck, and then kissed him gently. 

“What was that for?” Buck asked when Tommy pulled back.

“You should look at yourself right now.” Tommy turned Buck slowly so he could catch his reflection in the truck’s window. He looked debauched. 

Buck’s lips were plumper than usual, his neck was raw and red where Tommy’s beard burned him. His shirt was very rumpled and his hair, his hair. Moreover, Buck had this look on his face. It wasn’t naughty, or purposefully misbehaved, but it was pliant, showed his hunger right there on the surface, his absence of shame. 

When he caught sight of Tommy behind him in the window, he didn’t look much better. Tommy had a darker look in his eyes, and one of careful restraint, as he squared his hands on Buck’s hips. The slight shift forward made Buck brace himself against the truck with one arm. Silently, he held Tommy’s gaze through the reflection in the glass as the older man placed a tender kiss just behind his ear.

“You’ve probably found it’s very hard to resist you.” Tommy said, low, as he licked the same spot he’d just kissed seconds ago. Buck slipped a hand in Tommy’s hair and, at the same time, used his leverage on the truck’s door to grind his ass backwards into Tommy. 

“Hard indeed.” Buck joked.

As if he was stuck in molasses, Tommy untangled himself from Buck with some difficulty.

“Alright let’s get you home. Because I will commit a misdemeanor if we do this much longer.”

—

“I’m walking you to your building’s door and that’s it, because if you invite me up, I will come.” Tommy said in mock-warning as they walked up to the front stairs of Buck’s building.

“I kinda want you to come.” Buck said with a waggle of his eyebrows, suggestiveness all but veiled.

“Look at you cracking jokes. Now, remember what you said about burning steps.”

Buck looked down, bashful. “Yeah, nothing a cold shower can’t fix.”

Tommy smiled wide. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Yeah, m-me too.”

“Is monday too soon for you?”

Buck was taken aback for a second. He hadn’t made it as far as second date in his mind. “Isn’t it your–”

“Muay Thai Monday, yeah, but Eddie’s not ready to fight. Besides, I did say I’d teach you.”

Buck grinned a toothy grin. “Yeah, t-that would be great.”

“Alright, here– just texted you my address. Bring light clothes, it’s gonna get hot. 6PM okay?”

Buck nodded dumbly, his mind still stuck on it’s gonna get hot. As the look registered on Tommy’s face, he made a summary check to see if they had any witnesses before slipping Buck a filthy kiss against the building’s glass door. 

Tommy leaned their foreheads together, pulling away after what felt entirely too short of a time in Buck’s opinion. They slowly moved apart, collecting their breaths.

“Oh and,” Tommy said, biting his lip and smiling. “I’m taking a hot shower tonight.”

Buck seized up with ferocious want with what felt like the hundredth time today.

Tommy, proud of himself, started heading towards his truck, giving Buck one last leering look up and down the six-foot three-inches of him.

“Good night, Evan. See you Monday!”

TBC

Tags: @tizniz

LMK if you wanted to be added/removed. Feedback welcome! Cheers ~*

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 fanfic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #my works

[peacexatxlast]

Thomas Shelby; For a Good Cause a/n: After geeking to a dear friend about the slutty Brummie ganster... I had this idea. Shoutout to @jvstsaywhen for helping sort out my messy thoughts and giving me a good laugh in the process. You are an angel for dealing with my dramaticize.... ah.... however it's spelled ;) I hope you enjoy this chaos... Er... that's all... <3 plot: Tommy is in a mood and snaps at Frances. His wife does not approve... Warnings: Smuttttt, swearing, terrible plot and messy structure Word count: 3,098

There were days where Tommy would traipse around the house with docile ignorance to time. When life was in his command and the very March of the clock seemed to tick, tick, tick to his orders. ‘On the up’ he used to say, having his ducks lined in a neat row to be sent out and executed accordingly. Everyone enjoyed Tommy in this state, finding his company to be much more approachable and welcoming than the latter when hell seemed to burn in his stare. 

His wife thoroughly enjoyed his good moods, praising his tactical brilliance all the while as he would share his plans to expand the ever increasing wealth of Shelby Company Limited. He liked strategies, and when one was perfectly flowing by his bullet points, it gave him time to relax into her touch and devote attention to her. God, she loved when the world revolved around Thomas Shelby and bowed to his will accordingly. 

That day… was not one of those times. 

The house was torn into a hurricane. Thomas didn’t walk nor traipse, stuck in his office since dawn. No, he simmered, brooded, boiled. Whatever familial, political or business related issue he was stewing over, she thought better than to interrupt or disturb him. His sharp tongue and quick wit was only favorable when the dark cloud above his head wasn’t there striking lightning and crackling a roar of thunder. He was intolerable when he was struck under these moods, and so she busied herself that day on the other side of the house and ignored altogether his office. 

That is, until she caught word through the walls of the house of an episode involving their dear, loyal head maid and her moody, tempered husband. He’d snapped at her! Two younger maids were gossiping in the corridor, the woman of the house’s steps light and airy as she descended into the madness. She was not one to play into the whispers and traveling gossip, never sure how much truth was seeded through the game of telephone. However, the news she’d captured was not all that unbelievable. In fact, she believed every single word of it. 

Even so, she went straight to the source, confronting the maid about her husband’s behavior. She came on behalf of Frances, in favor of the woman, and she made that very clear as she approached her. “I have overheard Thomas has said something to upset you, Frances…Please, before you try to defend him, I am coming to get the truth so I can proceed and make sure this is dealt with properly…. No, Frances, his behavior is not alright! ….No matter what tantrum he has conjured within himself, he is not to unload it upon you! ……I assure you, this will be handled immediately. …..Take the evening off, I insist. As well as the other maids. I will be sure he eats something…” Yeah, a stale loaf and murky bath water… The lengthy exchange had come to an end with permission to relax and recover from Thomas’ short temper. She sincerely apologized on his behalf, embracing the older woman fondly. She had been a constant in the midst of the ever changing staff who were scared off by the Shelby man. 

The woman stopped short of the office door, glaring daggers into the polished oak as she debated entering inside and ripping into him. Her better judgment stalled her fantasy, knowing the outcome of such frivolous escapades. Thomas, much like an impetuous child being reprimanded, did not respond well to arguing and the rise of her voice. Yelling and screaming would only fuel coal into his burning fire. She did not wish to stoke this outrage but to smother it in water and cut off its supply of oxygen before it further burned anyone in the household. Had he kept his mood to himself, she wouldn’t have even bothered to address it. He lost that privilege the moment he spoke against Frances. Now, he must be scolded…. But craftily. 

Other alternatives were needed besides yelling. As his wife of sometime now, she had learned how to best escalate these outbursts: by meeting him in the middle… Of his body that is, speaking through his cock- on his cock- while his mind was clouded by pleasure and would adhere to anything and everything she said. Men were really, truly simple-minded creatures at the end of the day… and the sun had just begun to descend from the sky. 

She popped back up into their bedroom and slipped into something a little more uncomfortable for the evening. Adorned in a silk slip with sheer lingerie hidden beneath, she padded downstairs after a few spritz of perfume and a light toss of her hair on her shoulders. The clothing she wore was not for her benefit but his, remembering a comment he had made about how he so adored her in such apparel. As a good, devoted wife would, she remembered these things to spark erotica into his heart when the mood fancied her more than him. She’d never been turned away blatantly, but sometimes it took a retreating reprieve to lick her wounds and come back with vengeance, looking good enough to eat. And eat he would. 

Out of respect, she knocked. Time ticked by, moments stretching into a minute before she heard, ‘Come’. It was gruff and calloused, her eyes narrowing as she pushed the door open, adjusting the tie at her waist. It was late enough in the evening to assume she would be in such attire, batting eyelashes to clear the glare from her gaze as she sought his form out. 

Stress cloaked the shadows of his face, earning a soft hum from her lips as she followed the maze of chairs and coffee table to appear before him. “I know you’re busy, so I will keep it short and sweet.” She purred decadently, a sultry glance offered in jest as she removed the silk from her body to be devoured by the glaring gaze of her husband. He was upset to be interrupted, jaw tightening further at the new material offered to gaze at. Whether or not he enjoyed this view was beyond her, but she bathed in the heat of his stare nonetheless. Her name fell across her lips, either in plea or warning… Again, she was unsure of the origin, but it didn’t matter. She pursued on with her mission, rounding the desk. He leaned back in the throne of his palace, a good sign she noted. She was not above fucking on paperwork like a needy whore she often was; however, the wise woman was attempting to make his life a little less irritating. Wrinkled papers and soiled cardstock would only upset him further, so she began neatly piling the mess onto the side with enough room for her to be splayed out in front of him later however he saw fit. 

The undergarments she wore left little to the imagination, swaying her hips in a tantalizing manner while she worked. Her ass, one of her better features in her opinion, was perfectly on display in front of him covered in pale blue. Straightening, she turned to address him once more. He hadn’t spoken, a sharp glare slicing into her. “I can see the ungreased gears grinding in your mind, Thomas. You’re running off of smoke and fumes, and you’re reasoning and decision making will suffer for it. So,” A grin slipped over her lips, dropping to her knees with a look of need so saturated in exaggeration it was almost too satire to believe… Either way, he didn’t seem to notice or care, head cocked in interest. Jesus, he looked divine, the burdens of the world resting atop his shoulders working for him. And that damned waistcoat… His sleeves rolled in the sluttiest of ways to his elbows. She melted, biting her lip. “Let me help you clear your… head…” Teeth tugged her bottom lip into her mouth, pushing her palms onto his thighs as she rolled between his legs. Her head tilted, seeking his lips for a kiss. It was ultimately his choice to agree, eyes fluttered at half mast with a beckoning gaze. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as his lips brushed hers, reaching further to seal their agreement in a kiss. He was so fucking easy to draw in, lips quirking into a smug grin as his hand wrapped around her throat with a delicate squeeze. Pressed further into his palm, she extended her vulnerability towards him. Even in his worst of mood, she trusted him wholly with her life. He would never allow harm to come to her, either by another’s or his own hand. That much she could count on. 

The unholy darkened gaze of lust pooling in his icy stare was enough to drench her thighs in arousal, mouth watering and nearly forgetting her reason for this visit. It was so easy to be trapped in the riptide of his attention, treading dangerous waters as if she were in the shallows. She wanted to drown in his affection, tightening fingers around his thighs, scratching at the fabric which was now proving to be an annoying barrier. She had come prepared for this, the least he could do was catch up!

“How do you want me, Mr. Shelby?” She whispered against her hungry embrace, nipping at his bottom lip while trailing her palm up his thigh and towards his groin. There was no doubt in her mind of his hardening state, only solidifying what she knew to be true while stroking his growing arousal. “How can I help you relax, sir?” Fingers twitched around her throat, pulling a low groan from her lips, tilting her head back eagerly. “Bent over my desk, Mrs. Shelby. First piece of business crossing it that I’ve enjoyed working on.” The gravel in his voice was thrown down at his feet, collecting at her knees where she hurriedly moved to obey his command. Her heart pattered on incessantly in her chest, wiggling from her underwear; the fabric pooled at her feet in a soft flutter, kicked aside as rough hands found the new expanse of flesh. 

Her wiggling in search of something to grind against earned her behind a quick slap. She yelped, more out of surprise than anything. It hardly hurt, the blushing print of his hand fading as quickly as it had come… much to her disappointment, but the thrill of his reprimand remained, stepping aside to flaunt his goods for him. It all belonged to him anyways, something he was all too aware of given his patience… 

“Please, Tommy…” She whined, shuddering delightfully as his fingers traced the inner flesh of her parted thigh. He strayed from where the subtle ache began to grow, needy and impatient for the relief that only he could offer. She arched in such a way to find the edge of the desk brushing teasingly against her swelling bundle of nerves. A moan caught in her throat, hissing softly at the sharp pain receding into pleasure. It wasn’t enough to satiate her, and if anything it only brought a renewed rush of desperation to settle in her belly. 

He chuckled, kneading the flesh of her thigh with one hand while the other handled the buttons of his trousers. “Thought this was for my stress relief, hm? Looks like you’re in need of a reliever as well.” His words unnerved her, eyes rolling backwards with a shiver rolling under her spine. Remember the mission… Right… 

“You’ve not touched me in more than a week, Thomas. Do forgive your wife for seeking out your affection once in a while, ey?” She bit playfully, reaping the reward of her snarky attitude as Thomas adorned another smack to her ass. In the process of recovering from the delicious prick of pain stinging her flesh, he introduced her to a new sensation of minor discomfort: one she never truly grew accustomed to no matter how prepared she was. The head of his cock pushed past slick folds and buried himself within her cunt in a single thrust. A hot moan burbled from her lips, unbridled need spilling unabashed in the presence of her creator and destroyer. With one word he could build her higher than the tallest mountain or steepest building, and the slightest brush of his hand could have her crumpling harder to the floor than the burning of Rome. 

“Then it’s all too overdue, isn’t it?” He rasped, finding the natural handle to grip of her curved hip, recoiling back and striking fast. Even despite his girth and size, she would always adjust, but in the initial moment of penetration she relished the twinge of pain brimming with tension as it dissolved deliciously into pleasure. Part of the reason for dismissing the maids for the evening was her inability to withhold the melodic chorus of praises falling from her mouth, blessing the gods for creating such a man to ravish her so thoroughly. It’d become a rule to not withhold her sounds of enjoyment from him, and she made no effort to do so at that moment as he decided on a pace that best suited his mood then: brutal. 

With a pace that would surely bring a bruising hand print from how tightly he held her, pulling back and snapping his hips back just as quickly, she smoothed her hands against the top of the desk towards the edge where she curled her fingers to give hold to something. It was all the stability she had, the balls of her feet lifting from the floor while he moved her where he wanted, how he wanted, and when. Her nails clawed into the pine or oak or whatever the hell he wanted his damned desk to be, sure to have ruined a perfectly good manicure, but for a good cause. The color could easily be reapplied at a later date, then focusing on keeping her footing as she was propped on her tippy toes. She trusted him further to not let her fall into a mess onto the floor, and he ever so kindly secured her faith with a hand snaking into her scalp and pulling. A choked moan fell from her lips, taking every inch of his borderline abusive thrusts. She was greedy for his attention, hungrily devouring every gruff grunt and groan that parted his scowl. “I want to see you, Tommy… please.” She murmured, rolling with what little power she had to match his relentless pace. Three times he slammed into her again, relinquishing enough to spin and toss her body onto the desk like a rag doll. Desire hooded her gaze, reaching blindly to grasp at his shoulders and pull him in for a heated kiss. Masterfully, he maneuvered himself once more between her thighs, drawing a shared sigh of relief from them both. She would have thanked him if she could form a coherent fucking thought then, too busy clawing and grasping at his clothes to shed them. The waistcoat, his shirt, exposing every layer until his chest was bared before her. 

Her lips attacked him with as much abandon as he fucked her, spreading her legs further, tucking them appropriately around his waist to latch onto him. His breath was hot against her neck, teeth sinking into her pulse point while she lay siege to his back with an assault of her nails. 

“Thomas, fuck, right there!” Over and over again he drilled the head of his erection in the most calculated way to curl her toes and see stars beneath her eyelids. She whimpered softly, the guilt brushing over her intense pleasure that it prolonged her release. Agitated, she clung tighter to him, begging for more of him: harder, faster, deeper. Thomas was all too kind to comply, filling the office room with her sweet, sweet cries paired with the harmony of skin meeting skin. Pressure built within his abdomen, muscles tightening, flexing, burning for release. The tell of his impending orgasm came in the subtle loss of his rhythm, arm snaking around her waist for support as he chased after the high. His needy behavior pulled her father into the swarming heat boiling within her stomach, whining for his attention, demanding he satiate her needs as well. She didn’t have to ask twice, finding relief in the flick of his thumb over the slick of her bundled nerves, circling her button with relative ease; it seemed as though he hardly had to put effort into causing her downfall. 

“Oh, fucking- Tommy, fuck me, please… Fill me, love,” Her sweet coax was his own demolition, cresting the mountain and quickly crashing down in a crescendo of blurring release. She held her orgasm until he came, coming undone in the very capable hands of her husband with breathless cries of his name which would disperse evenly throughout the room and haunt him later while he attempted to finish his letters. Good. She would reduce herself to nothing more than his panting, begging whore if it meant he would return regularly to their marital bed. 

The moment directly after an orgasm was possibly her favorite. Silence enveloped them safely in an embrace, sweat coated bodies relaxing into one another while they panted into one another’s mouth for oxygen. No words were needed in exchange, holding onto him for a moment longer before allowing him to part from her and collect his composure. A breathless giggle, blissed to heaven and back in the warm delusion post orgasm. “You will apologize to Frances for the harsh comment you made to her earlier.” She breathed, her tone soft but sincere, rounded with an authority she only carried when necessary. As he tucked himself within his trousers, he nodded curtly, shifting his glance to her suspiciously. A smile graced her lips, waiting for him to hand her undergarments to her like a gentleman should, accepting them with a soft ‘thank you’. 

“This is how you relieve built up tension, not snapping at your staff in undeserved anguish. Especially Frances. I’m your wife; I’m made to take it.” she slipped from the desk, wrapping the robe around her body once more. Her hand threaded through his scalp comfortingly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Try not to spend all night working. I will be in bed when you decide to join me. Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.” 

The faintest quirk of a smile met his lips, pecking her lips before she escaped him. “Goodnight, my love.”

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x wife!reader #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #champagne writes; thomas shelby

[visree]

if the dream smp is a play and the streamers are actors and errors are technical failures then what the fuck was tommy getting struck by lightning on doomsday

#dream smp

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Eleven: All at Sea

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Angst, cursing, overthinking. Poor Reader is having a week. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: I know fuck all about concussion treatments or medical care in general. Also, everything I know about yachting I learned by watching Below Deck.

Series masterlist

“Tommy! What the fuck happened?” Joel’s thundering voice carried across the deck, causing Tommy to flinch before his shoulders hunched stiffly. He’d never seen his brother move so fast, covering the distance at lightning speed until he knelt at your side, one large, hesitant hand hovering over your unconscious form yet refusing to give in and touch you.

Struck silent at the expression on his brother’s face, Tommy stared between the two of you. He’d never seen Joel so distraught, love and regret shining in the man’s watery chocolate eyes. He looked on the verge of tears seeing you hurt and unable to do anything about it.

“What happened?” Joel asked again, voice quieter this time, yet no less distraught.

“She fell as we were moving the kayaks. It was an accident,” Jake explained before Tommy could, and Joel’s dark eyes snapped to the deckhand with a sharp glare before shifting back to you, then Tommy. An unspoken conversation happened between the brothers before Tommy turned to Jake.

“Jake, would you find Ellie and finish the evening duties? We’ll handle this.” Jake looked like he wanted to refuse the order, glancing between the captain and the bosun a few times before turning on his heel without response. Once he was clear of earshot, Tommy spoke plainly, one hand grasping Joel’s shoulder. “Listen, Joel. She’s been a wreck all week, distracted and completely unlike herself. This was clearly an accident, but it never would have happened if…”

Jaw clenching, Joel swallowed roughly. “I know. This is my fault.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying… ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying. I just know that things like this don’t happen to her, and I don’t like seeing her confused and hurt over something you did. Brit all but shut down this week because of you.” Tommy didn’t want to hurt his brother any more than necessary, but he needed him to see sense. Joel was just as much of a wreck as you were, he just had more opportunity to hide it tucked away on the bridge.

Wide, dark eyes once again focused on your unconscious form. You looked peaceful, like you could have been asleep, dreaming of happy things, not knocked out cold from a fall. This was all his damn fault. “I’ll fix it, sweetheart. I’ll make everything better,” Joel murmured, running his fingers over the smooth skin of your cheek. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, lips pursed.

“Is medical transport coming?” Tommy questioned, pulling Joel’s focus back to action.

“They’re going to meet us at port. A storm’s rolling in and they don’t want us to wait. Frank’s gonna take watch duty and they’ll guide him over the phone if there’s anything he needs to do,” Joel explained. He hesitated to leave your side, this being the closest he’d been to you since you were in his bed days ago – was it only days? It felt like weeks – but they needed to get a move on.

“Ok. Where do we want to –”

“We’ll put her in my quarters. I don’t want her too far away from me in case anything happens.”

“Are you…” Tommy wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that if you regained consciousness before they got to port, but he trailed off, not about to waste precious time arguing with his brother. They were short on time; he could see the dark skies moving in from a distance. And Joel’s determined expression told Tommy he would have lost the argument anyway.

Lifting you gently once he checked your neck, Joel supported your head against his shoulder and carried you, bridal style, to the bridge, avoiding the areas where the guests were, and through to his quarters. Placing you gently on the unmade bed like the precious thing you were, he kissed your forehead, lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I promise, I will do anything to make this better, to make up for how poorly I treated you.”

As Joel was taking care of you and getting setup on the bridge, Tommy called over the radio for Sarah to join the deck crew. Being a woman down and in a hurry, he needed all hands on deck and, having grown up on yachts and learned from her father and uncle, Sarah was well versed in pulling anchor and docking. The deck crew worked quicky and thoroughly, getting the anchor up and securing the main decks.

The wind and waves picked up as they took off back to the island, anxiety spread through the crew knowing the real reason why they were rushing back to port. The storm was a bit of a blessing in disguise, giving the interior crew a good excuse to offer the guests for docking half a day early.

The routine journey seemed interminable to Joel, his mind half on steering the yacht safely back to port and the other half on you. He knew you were in good hands with Frank – that man adored you and knew how important you were to Joel; he would take the best care of you – yet Joel still worried. How could he not? You were hurt and things were a mess between you two. Anxiety bubbled in his gut, creating a tightness in his chest that he suspected would not go away until you were safe, and he was forgiven.

The docking was a mess weather-wise and sloppy in execution. Tommy barked out orders over the wind, but every single person on deck was preoccupied. Lines were tangled, spring lines weren’t tossed far enough, taking two or three tosses to get to the dock crew, and Joel nearly crashed into a damn piling. Worst docking ever, by far, but they finally made it, and the medics were waiting for you.

A hushed conversation took place on the bridge as the medics tended to you, securing your unconscious form to a stretcher.

“Are you sure? You’ve never, in the entire history of us working together, left the boat while charter guests remained on board,” Frank said, needing to clarify Joel’s insistence that he accompany you to the emergency room.

“I’m certain. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, Frank,” Joel insisted, gesturing emphatically, the ball of anxiety in his chest tightening at the mere thought of not being by your side. Big cow eyes pleaded with Frank to understand, to take point in Joel’s moment of need. He was so close to just abandoning ship otherwise. “Right now, that gorgeous, kind woman is more important to me than any of this and I need to show her that. I need to be there when she wakes up to prove that to her.”

Frank looked at him so softly then, like he’d seen a new side of the man he’d known nigh on twenty years. He understood the lengths a man in love would go to – especially a man like Joel – and he refused to be the one who stood in the way of that. “Go, quick!” Frank waved him toward the deck. “They’ll be wanting to get her to the hospital asap. I’ll keep everyone in line and check in for updates. Take care of her… and yourself.”

In a rare moment of outward emotion, Joel gave Frank a one-armed hug, chocolate eyes full of gratitude and lips curling upward as he left the bridge.

A pounding headache was the first thing that you noticed. The next was the pull of an IV in your arm when you shifted. The third, painfully bright fluorescent lights that only made the headache worse. Looking around in confusion, your eyes settled on medical monitoring equipment and blandly painted walls. You were in the hospital. Why?

Shifting again as you fought down any panic, a heavy weight pinned your free hand down. Eyes slowly moving around the room – you were a bit dizzy and vaguely nauseous – your gaze met a wild mop of dark, messy curls laying on your hand, and a large, warm hand gently grasping your wrist.

Joel.

Your heart skipped a beat as everything came back to you in pieces. The double date. The wonderful night spent together in his quarters. The passion. The morning after… Heart thumping wildly in your chest, you sucked in a deep breath to calm yourself and continued jogging your memory. The look on Joel’s face as he sent you away. The tears. The sadness. The internal fight to keep going, to just do your job rather than giving up and ending your season early. The bright light of joking around with Jake. The laughter while loading kayaks. Tripping, trying to catch yourself, then everything went black and now you were in a hospital room.

God, the pounding in your head hurt worse after thinking so hard. You kept shifting, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position to ease the ache, and the hand around your wrist flexed reassuringly. Your pulse soared when Joel lifted his head, large brown eyes blinking owlishly up at you, and the machine at your side started to beep loudly.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough from his nap. “Don’t wanna get your heartrate too high.”

You didn’t know what to say and just stared back at Joel, eyes taking in every move as he sat up and slipped his hand down your wrist to tangle his fingers with yours. He was here, at your side, holding your hand, gazing at you tenderly with concern in those beautiful eyes. It had to mean something, right? Right?

Lips parting, mouth parched yet needing to say something, anything. “What are you doing here?” That was the best you could come up with.

Joel’s brows pulled together, but a knock on the door interrupted before he could respond, and a doctor sauntered into the room.

“Ah, you’re awake! That is promising news.” The doctor – a balding, middle-aged man in a too-tight white coat – read your chart as the nurse accompanying him called out additional readings from the machine at your side. He hummed, noting down the new information, and placed the chart down on the counter along the wall. “Let me just check…”

The man trailed off, shining a light in your eyes to assess your pupillary response, then gestured for you to follow his finger with your eyes. He ran a few more tests of your reflexes and assessed the tenderness on your scalp where you hit your head. Satisfied, he put the penlight in his chest pocket and sat on a little rolling stool.

“So, you’ve had quite the day.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you grumbled.

“And I bet you have one helluva headache?”

You merely nodded, waiting for the doctor to get to the point.

“That’s to be expected. Nurse Chapin will give you a dose of pain medication in your IV for now.” The nurse moved to do exactly that as the doctor continued. “The knock to your head caused a concussion – grade three judging by the amount of time you were unconscious. But the good news is that the CT scans are favorable. The brain swelling is already going down. Any memory loss? Nausea? Changes in mood – increased irritability, moodiness, anger?”

“A little dizzy and very mildly nauseous. I’m mostly just tired and my head is fucking killing me.” Your brows scrunched together, eyes still squinting from the combination of the headache and the too bright lights. Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that burst from his chest, causing both you and the doctor to join in.

“I’ll take that laugh as a ‘no’ to increased irritability. The meds will kick in very shortly. Once they do, you’ll start to feel better, but you’ll likely be more tired than usual for a few days and will need to take it easy for a week or two,” the doctor explained. “I would recommend someone monitor you for at least the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours just in case there are any changes in your symptoms.”

Your eyes flashed to Joel, who was already watching you. His fingers squeezed yours ever so slightly, and you startled, having forgotten that you were holding hands. You could see in his eyes that he would not let you out of his sight. You weren’t sure how you felt about that yet, but you were too tired to argue about it.

Within a couple hours, you were discharged, and on your way back to the yacht with Joel. Neither of you spoke much, but as you suspected, Joel never strayed from your side, an arm or hand always wrapped around some part of you. Once you were in a car on the way back to the port, your head resting tenderly against Joel’s chest where it fell from sheer exhaustion, he finally spoke.

“I know this isn’t nearly enough, but I am sorry for my behavior, for how I treated you the other morning. I won’t disrespect you further by offering lame excuses. It was a piss poor reaction and I regret every single second of it. Most of all, I regret hurting you.”

You could feel the rumble of Joel’s voice mixed with the elevated beat of his heart against your face where it rested against his chest and hear the sincerity in his voice as it broke over certain words. His arm tightened around your shoulders, drawing you closer still until your entire being could tell how much he regrated his actions, his words, that entire dreadful morning.

Was it that easy, though? Were you ready to forgive and forget that quickly?

The medication had taken the sharp edge off the headache, but your mind was still a swirling mess. This was a conversation for when you were both clear-headed, you thought. But you appreciated his apology nonetheless.

You must have been silent too long because Joel started speaking again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now – or at all, really. I just… I just wanted you to know that I would take it all back and reset that morning, if I could.”

“Thank you, Joel, for the apology… and for being here for me even when things aren’t great between us. I want to forgive you, but I think… I think we should have a conversation when I feel more like myself,” you admitted, exhaustion lacing your voice.

Pressing his lips to the top of your head, Joel kissed your hair. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll talk when you’re ready. In the meantime, let me take care of you. Let me show you that I’m worthy of your forgiveness if you find it in your heart to offer it to me.”

You murmured something intelligible, snuggling further into the warmth of his chest. Joel let you sleep the remainder of the ride and carried you on board like the precious cargo you were. It was well after midnight and the yacht was dimly lit and quiet, even the charter guests in their rooms asleep ahead of their departure later that morning. You remained out cold as he tucked you into his bed, slipping in beside you after a quick shower. You didn’t know it, but he held you close all night.

True to his word, Joel looked after you with great care. His bedside manner was impeccable, if he did say so himself. You were an easy patient though, sleeping through most of the next day, rousing only when he woke you periodically per doctor’s orders. He made certain you had plenty of liquids to stay hydrated, light food to nourish you, and pain reliever for the lingering headache.

The charter guests departed none the wiser and they left a good tip despite their time at sea being cut a little short. Their departure was the only time Joel left your side for more than five minutes and, upon his return, he set your portion of the tip aside for when you were awake for more than fifteen minutes.

There was a rare lull in the schedule with the next charter being a short three-day reservation, so the crew all had four days in a row off. Convenient timing, of course, and Joel was glad you’d have the extra time to recover without feeling guilty. Originally, he planned to have an activity for the crew to unwind, but no one seemed to want to do that without you. He wondered if you had any idea how loved and appreciated you were among the crew.

After thirty-six hours, your energy started making a return and Joel allowed some visitors to check on you. Sarah had been driving him up a wall demanding to know via text how you were doing every five minutes and she would not relent until she saw you with her own eyes. If it was at all weird for her to see you sitting up in her dad’s bed while he gazed at you all gooey-eyed, she didn’t say peep about it, for which Joel was grateful.

Of course, Ellie had plenty to say about it – more than enough to make up for everyone who didn’t – but you merely laughed knowing the younger woman found the entire situation entertaining rather than ‘gross’ as she insisted.

Mostly, Joel just spent a lot of time watching you like a sad puppy, worrying about you, and hoping that you’d forgive him. This time spent taking care of you made him realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how much he ached to keep doing so, in good times and bad. If you couldn’t forgive him, if he lost you for good after this, it would surely destroy him.

He could deny it no longer, to himself, you, or anyone else who wanted to know. He was head over fucking heels in love with you. He just hoped that you felt just as deeply about him as he did about you.

tbc

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #pedrostories #joel x f!reader

[wheels-of-despair]

Can You Feel It? Pairing: Ex!Billy Hargrove x You x Unimportant Jock Event: A Very @corroded-hellfire Valentine's Day Summary: Billy fucked around. Now he's gonna find out. Contains: Heartbreak, spite, sex, Billy Hargrove Is His Own Warning. Song: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette Words: 1.4k

Minors and ageless blogs who interact with this fic will be blocked.

And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it Well, can you feel it?

You hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

You hate his stupid hair and his dumb earring and his loud-ass car and you especially hate the fact that you found him with some skank's tongue down his throat at Tommy Hagan's party last weekend, just hours after he told you that he loved you.

You didn't make a scene. You didn't key his car or slash his tires or even let him know you'd decided to come after all.

You just went home and cried.

You cried until you got angry.

It boiled over Monday morning in the Hawkins High parking lot. You were separated by staff who threatened to call your parents and told you both to stay far away from each other. You were happy to comply. He was as good as dead to you.

For a few days.

The following Thursday in the cafeteria, when he winked at you while that slut sat in his lap, you rose up out of your chair to go murder them both... when Ashley M. stepped into your path and caught you off-guard by shoving a flyer in your hand.

You read it - keg party, this weekend, no parents - and a new plan began to form in your jilted brain.

You went all out. Teased your hair. Applied make-up that would make Cyndi Lauper proud. Wore that top that makes your tits look phenomenal and a tiny skirt that your parents didn't know you owned and the painful shoes that Billy called "Fuck-Me Heels."

Boys were drooling the minute you casually strolled into Ashley M's front door half an hour late.

You located him in seconds. He sat on the kitchen counter, staring. You'll give him something to fucking stare at.

You looked to the right and made eye contact with the first idiot who'd crowded around you, vying for your attention. According to his letterman jacket, his name was Spencer. He'd do.

It was almost too easy. One dazzling smile and a dance with a little too much touching, and he was practically dragging you down the hallway. Easy, Sparky, don't forget who's running this show.

He tries two doors before finding an empty room. A bathroom. Good enough.

He closes the door and locks it and shoves you against the back of it and tries to worm his tongue down your throat. No technique. Not at all like Billy.

Right. Billy. That's why you're here. You palm Sparky's comically small package with one hand and subtly reach behind you to unlock the door with the other. You push the meathead away, approach the sink on the opposite side of the room, and hop on. It faces the door. Perfect. You want to see the look on his face when he inevitably storms in and throws a fit.

Sparky sheds his jacket - stopping to hang it carefully on a towel hook, lest his precious jock gear get a wrinkle in it - and stands between your knees. He leans forward and begins to maul your neck. His hands find your tits and grab at them like it's his very first time. You distract him by peeling his shirt off, "accidentally" tangling it around his head to stall him. When he gets free and tries to resume his frantic fondling, you move his hands to your ass and watch the door boredly.

"You're so hot," Sparky moans, squeezing your ass with both hands. You roll your eyes. Hurry up, Hargrove.

You wait patiently until the bathroom door crashes open. It sends a jolt through your entire body, like you've been struck by lightning. Billy Hargrove stands in the doorway, eyes blazing and shoulders squared. The doorknob left a dent in the wall behind it. What did he do, kick it open? It wasn't locked, you fucking moron.

Sparky turns around at the sound. "Hey man, you mind? We're kinda busy here."

You grab Sparky by his bare shoulders and jerk him back to you. His face collides with the side of your neck, and he resumes his disgusting slurping like Billy isn't standing just a few feet away, ready to kill him. You stare coldly at the asshole in the doorway while you scratch your nails down Sparky's back. A move that was guaranteed to make Billy go feral, every fucking time.

Can you feel that, Hargrove?

"Ow! Shit!"

Sparky backs away from you and your claws, and Billy steps forward to catch him. Billy grabs him by the scruff of the neck and hauls him into the hallway, bouncing his face off the wall a few times before shoving him to the floor.

Now it's your turn.

Billy steps over Sparky's body and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He locks it, and before you can marvel at the fact that the lock mechanism still works, he's on you. Hand on your throat. Your head smacks against with the mirror behind you.

"What the fuck was that?"

"What's it to you? You don't want me anymore, remember?"

Fire blazes in his eyes, and his grip tightens.

You stare calmly into his furious face.

Why the fuck did you miss him? He made you mad almost every day. You fought all the time. He was moody, and difficult, and snarky, and let's not forget the fact that he's a liar and a cheater and an all-around dickhead who broke your fucking heart.

You'd give anything for him to love you the way you love him.

In the blink of an eye, Billy's hand moves from your throat to the back of your neck, and his mouth is on yours. Your brain quiets, and your body buzzes, and being close to him is the only thing that matters.

His massive hands drift down to your breasts, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You moan into his mouth, and his hands keep traveling south. You open your legs for him, and he doesn't waste any time slipping under your skirt and past your barely-there panties and dipping a finger into your center.

Feeling how wet you are brings him back to the reality of the situation. He extracts his hand, wipes it on your thigh, and glares.

"That douchebag get you this worked up?"

"That limp-dicked dumbass couldn't work a calculator."

Billy snorts, and you smile. God, you missed this.

"Who'd you wear those Fuck Me Heels for, then?"

"Who do you think, asshole?"

He smirks in a way that makes you want to smack it off his face. Instead, you hook your leg around him and pull him closer. Billy grabs your ass and jerks you to the edge of the counter, so you can feel his stiff member pressing into your heat. You need him so fucking bad.

His assault on your mouth begins again, and you wrap your arms around him and cling to his back. He rocks into you, and the friction from his jeans is almost enough to finish you off.

"Billy," you breathe. "Need you."

"I should make you beg," he taunts, slowly dragging the double-stitched denim of his fly upward and surprising you with a sudden jerk of his hips. You claw at his jacket and puff out a breath of air. You're not fucking begging. You try to grind your hips against him, but he reaches down to hold them still. You respond by lurching forward and biting his neck.

Billy responds with a slap to your ass. He pulls back, and you glare up at him, chest heaving. You're not fucking begging.

"Fuck it," he grumbles, reaching for his belt buckle. He unbuckles unzips, and slams into you in seconds.

Fuck, you missed this.

Billy begins to thrust hard and fast, eyes on yours. When you begin to approach your peak, you close your eyes and lean your head back. He grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. He wants to watch it happen. He needs to see what he does to you.

You come together, with grunts and moans, collapsing against each other in a panting heap. You fall back against the mirror, and he leans with you. His head rests on your shoulder. Breathing ragged. Bones weak. Brains foggy. Nobody makes you fall apart like he does.

"I love you," is what you want to tell him.

"I know," is probably what he would say before he smirked his dumb little smirk and zipped up those tight jeans that fit him just right and left your stupid ass in a puddle of your own tears again.

You wish you could hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

#writings of despair #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #corroded-hellfire's valentine's day playlist #alanis i'm sorry i love him :'(

[king-krisu]

Holy fucking shit it's so over for me. We're not gonna be good. Jere getting struck by lightning? Screaming with the bolero on in the CCC wooden eurolava cage? Tommy looking like Michael Myers with the chainsaw? The Daltons driving them away like some bank heist or smth? THE GIRLIE CLAWING HER WAY FROM TOMMY??? WHAT THE FUCK IS IT GONNA BE WE DIDNT EVEN SEE THE MOPOJONNE CLIP FROM THE HARBOUR??? WHERE IS HÄÄRIJÄ?????

It was nice knowing all of you people bcs I'm fucking DEAD on friday

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #cha cha cha #tommy cash #im shaking #genuienly

[half-bakedboy]

Hi! I saw that you were asking for Tommy/Buck prompts! What do you think about: "You're allowed to be happy, y'know."? With Tommy continuing to be just as gentle with Buck as he was with that kiss! I'm still not over it 🩷

Tommy kisses Buck on a Thursday and takes him on their first date the following Saturday. They go on two more official dates before Tommy reminds him his sister's getting married in a few weeks. They're five dates into their... well, whatever they are, when Buck watches Tommy dance with his newly married sister.

There's something so gentle about the way Tommy holds Maddie's manicured fingers delicately in his own. He has what can only be described as a gentlemanly hand on her waist and he's almost letting her take the lead like he's making sure he doesn't scare her away.

Maddie doesn't get scared anymore, not like she used to, but the fact that Tommy can put that amount of care into someone just in case makes Buck's eyes water. Even though he tries not to show too much emotion in public, he doesn't put any effort into holding the tears back. His sister just got married! He's allowed to feel.

"Buck!" Chimney shouts. He's running toward Maddie and Tommy with a faux scowl that couldn't reach his eyes even if he tried. "Get your man before he woos her with his fancy helicopter license."

"Pilot's license," Buck says as he stands, wiping subtly at his eyes. A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy's lips because he knows that's his influence. Buck had called it a helicopter license approximately five times before Tommy finally taught him how it all worked. 

“There’s only one firefighter for me, Howie,” Maddie says dreamily. Buck can’t remember a time he’d ever heard her so wistful, not since she was a kid reading him fairytales when they were both supposed to be sleeping. 

“And there’s only one Buckley for me,” Tommy adds, winking at Maddie dramatically before placing her hand in Chimney’s, “but I always have a plan b. Isn’t that what you taught me, Han?” Chimney swats at him half-heartedly, his attention already back on his bride. 

Buck watches them for a few moments, reveling in the sheer joy that illuminates between them like no storm cloud in the world could cover the sunshine they feel. He's struck by a stray bolt of lightning--pun only partially intended--when he thinks about what she's gotten through to be here, but it settles into calmness when Tommy clears his throat from beside him.

Buck snaps from his thoughts and realizes he's been ignoring Tommy's outstretched hand. He clasps their hands together, fully intending to drag them back to their table, when Tommy clicks his tongue and pulls him close.

Then they're dancing underneath a backyard tent surrounded by their friends and family, and Buck thinks that he's never been as happy as he is right then.

There's guilt in the feeling, as there almost always is. There are people in need of saving, people who are hurt or scared or lonely, and here is Evan Buckley--happy. He can’t begin to comprehend why or even if he deserves that. He's made mistakes, he's lied to himself his entire life without intention, he never protected his sister or his team well enough, and now he's with a man who he really likes but isn't sure exactly what it means.

He doesn't deserve--

"You're allowed to be happy, y'know." 

Tommy says the words like he's reading Buck's mind.

"I am happy," Buck says instinctively. Tommy chuckles and nods.

"You are," he agrees, "but you need to stop feeling so much shame about it."

His large palm presses against the small of Buck's back, leading him into a slow sway. He dips his head the few centimeters between them and rests their foreheads together like he's trying to keep Buck's attention. Like Buck's attention could be anywhere else when he's being held like this, with such tenderness that he feels weak in his knees.

"You're going to find happiness that you don't need to feel guilty for one day, Evan."

It feels like a promise, and Buck only hopes that Tommy's the one to keep it.

#911 on abc #bucktommy #kinley #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #answered #ficlets #my writing #i just have a lot of feelings about this wedding okay #if hes so soft with buck just imagine how hed be with maddie!!!!!!! #thanks so much for prompting!! #hiddenbookshop