bekolxeram

[bekolxeram]

Tommy drove to the café as soon as his shift ended to help Buck get the orders ready.

After 15 minutes of shuffling around the kitchen and sidling past each other, Buck notices a piece of paper sticking out of Tommy's back pocket.

"Hey, what's that?" Buck curiously asks.

"What's what?" Tommy furrows his brows.

"That. In your back pocket." Buck points.

"Oh, this?" Tommy unfolds the paper, revealing a flyer.

Buck reads the flyer, his eyes growing wide. "Harbor station has an annual gingerbread contest?!"

"Yeah." Tommy waves his hand. "I never enter."

"Wh-why not?"

"Well, for one," Tommy begins as he reaches behind Buck to grab a bowl. "I don't really participate in many Christmas traditions, and secondly..." he sighed. "I'm really bad at making gingerbread houses."

Buck smiles in response. "Good thing I'm an expert."

"Oh yeah? An expert?" Tommy says teasingly.

"We're gonna enter you in that contest." Buck declares confidently.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Don't we have a lot of orders to prep?"

"C'mon." Buck nudges him. "We could use a break."

"A break?" Tommy narrows his eyes. "I just got he—" Before he can even finish his sentence, he's dragged along by Buck, who is adamant about helping Tommy enter the contest.

Buck helped Tommy make a Gingerbread Hangar with peppermint helicopters. Isn't it cute? Tommy thinks it looks a bit silly, but he did have fun.

And it was nice to spend some time with Bu—Evan again.

[bekolxeram]

I was reading a lot of fics about Tommy discovering Buck's new found stress baking habit post reunion, then this cringy idea popped into my mind. Now you get to suffer with me.

NSFW-ish

Lukewarm water, 360 grams. Honey, 10 grams. Dry yeast, 7 grams. Mix. Flour, 5… wait, no, wrong flour. Where’s my god damn bread flour? When was the last time I made bread? Oh yes, last month, right before Tommy and I got back together, it should be around… Ah, there, found it! No...

No!

Don’t get sentimental now, there’s no place for melancholy tonight.

“Sexy thoughts. Sexy thoughts.” Buck mutters to himself, desperately trying to stop his wandering mind from ruining his mood.

Think of Tommy. Hot, sexy, pilot.

The cyclic looks so small in his big yet surgically precise hand. It almost seems like he’s telepathically flying the chopper with his mind, not with his strong, steady arm. His fingers are long enough to engulf the control stick completely and more, sometimes he has to twist his wrist around just to flick the top… uh… the button on top.

He can feel the fabric of his sweatpants straining against his hip. The tight cotton shirt he picked out especially for the night feels extra tight around his rapidly warming skin. Good, it seems like his tactic is working.

And his pecs… that time when he wore nothing but his flight suit, umm... They’re so fun to play with, squeeze them, bite them, lick them, sleep on them, make them bounce. I don’t need to “explore” to be sure how much I love them. It’s not even about gender, I know a good pair when I see one.

Stop. No. He’s apologized. I’ve apologized. We’re all good.

It feels like all we do these days is to apologize, then have make up sex. Not saying it’s not good sex, but I want that light, fun sex we used to have, before we…

Don’t, don’t go there.

Anyway, oh, his beautiful face. The one stubborn strand of hair on his forehead that always refuses to comply with any hair product. The constellation of freckles scattered across his perfectly shaped nose. The sensual curve of his lips. The creases around his eyes and his cheeks when his whole face is lit up by that classic scrunchy smile. I swear they look even more prominent now… Oh! How could I forget, that delicious cleft on his chin. If there’s one saving grace coming out of the breakup, it’s his decision to double, no, triple his effort at the gym. His facial features look that much more striking on his now leaner body. Who gets over a heartbreak by becoming a Greek statue anyway? Pick up baking like a normal person, please.

Wait, I’m thinking about the breakup, aren’t I? Don’t. Don’t! Ugh… too late.

Buck lightly bangs his head against the counter in frustration. Deciding to focus on the task at hand instead, he promptly weighs out his flour, sprinkles in a pinch of salt, then pours the bubbly yeast mixture into the dry ingredients.

Just as he’s about to put his hands to work, he’s interrupted by a familiar rhythm at the door. Quickly wiping his hands on his apron, then pushing the waistband of his pants down by half an inch for Tommy’s viewing pleasure, he goes on to greet the man he’s been waiting for.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tommy apologizes as he’s entering the loft. “I believe the infamous LA traffic still hasn’t recovered from the emergency freeway landing last year.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Buck shoots him a reassuring smile, clearly delighted by having his beloved in his space again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right with you. I need to finish this dough first.”

“But I thought you said you wanted to relax tonight? Aren’t we just gonna order takeout?” Tommy’s visibly confused by Buck’s ongoing culinary endeavor.

“Oh, this? This is not for tonight. It has to proof until at least tomorrow morning,” Buck replies absentmindedly, his hands continue kneading the dough without pause.

“You don’t have to, Evan. I’m okay with no breakfast at all,” Tommy walks around the kitchen counter to give the hardworking baker a kiss on the temple. “As long as I’m with you.”

“Um… no, I’m making these because my parents are coming to town.”

“Tomorrow morning?!”

“In a month. They’re coming to see Maddie in a month. I’m just stress baking because they…” Buck lets out a sarcastic laugh, “they stress me out.”

“Ahhh… is that so? Well, I’m happy to have learned this about you. I never knew you could bake.”

“I couldn’t. I picked it up recently, after you…” Those dreaded words have already slipped out of his mouth before Buck realizes. He’s been trying his damnedest to steer the night away from this particular direction, but as it turns out, he’s utterly powerless against the freight train of emotions he’s been keeping deep inside. He briefly considers changing the subject, but Tommy’s heard him already. He perks up his eyebrows, signaling Buck to finish his sentence.

It’s better to rip off the band aid now, than to let it snowball into something unstoppable.

“...after you dumped me,” Buck comes clean reluctantly.

Tommy drops his eyes and sighs in understanding, before gently wrapping his arms around Buck from behind. “I’m sorry, baby,” he presses his lips onto the golden curls in front of him.

“Chimney told me, you have a tendency to run away if you’re being pushed too hard. I should wait for you to reach out instead of… the other way around.” Buck keeps working on his dough, intentionally averting his gaze from the man behind him.

“Mmhmm.”

“It was… agonizing. I saw you everywhere. I saw you at home, I saw you at the fire house. I saw you at the coffee shop. I saw you when a helicopter passed by in the sky. You were like… a ghost, haunting me, every waking moment of my life. You know what? Not even just waking, you were haunting my dreams, too. The only thing that managed to stop me from texting you was baking. I had all the supplies at home because I was planning to surprise you with a cake for your birthday but…”

Tommy abruptly lets go and backs off. While Buck fully expects the night to be ruined after his long winded ramble, he mourns the sudden loss of contact nonetheless.

Still not looking up from the increasingly elastic mass on the counter, Buck continues, “I just have to knead it for… um… 5 more minutes, then I’m all yours. Let’s start over, yeah? I’m over it, I’m okay now. Let’s forget about it and just… chill. There’s this movie I…” He’s cut off by Tommy’s return, arms secured around his waist once again, chest pressed firmly against his back, the only difference being that Buck can feel Tommy’s body heat radiating this time.

“Ghost, you said?” Tommy whispers, lips barely grazing the hair standing on Buck’s nape.

“Yeah…” Buck shivers. He turns his head slightly to take a peek at the man behind him.

Yes, Tommy’s shirtless.

“Mmm, keep going,” Tommy demands, hands sliding under the hem of Buck’s shirt to roam around his midsection, lips softly connected to the side of his neck.

So Buck keeps going. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate.

He feels two big hands caressing his shoulders, along his arms, then all the way down to his own busy hands.

“What are you making?”

“Ba — Bagels.”

“Umm… I love bagels,” Tommy lazily drags his mouth from Buck’s neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of delicate kisses behind, “do you know how I like to take it?”

“How…?”

Tommy props his head back up, chin resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “Plain, with cream cheese,” he breathes straight into Buck’s ear. “So much cream cheese that it… oozes out everywhere. Leaking from the side, through the middle…” his tongue darts out to give that spot right underneath the earlobe an inquisitive lick. “I love it when it gets all over my face, painting my mouth white.”

Buck’s previously regular cadence starts faltering. He doesn’t know when to press or when to rotate the dough anymore.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Tommy grabs a hand full of the dough, and squeezes, hard. Yet, the dough barely budges. “Oh, am I doing it wrong?”

Buck can’t help but giggle. “You have to knead with your palms, not your fingers. Here, let me show you,” he covers Tommy’s right hand with his own, and pushes the heel of his palm into Tommy’s wrist. “You want to fold the dough onto itself, then roll your palm out while pressing down. A bagel dough is supposed to be pretty stiff, so feel free to put your whole body weight into it.”

“Like this?” Tommy mimics exactly what Buck just showed him.

“I’ll give you an A,” Buck turns his head around, meeting Tommy’s gaze. Their faces are so close together, they can feel each other breathing. “You’re a fast learner.”

“I have the best teacher,” Tommy murmurs.

They naturally gravitate towards each other, like two stars on a collision course, until their lips clash together into a sloppy, filthy open-mouthed kiss.

Pulling back slightly to gasp for air, Buck’s pupils are completely blown out, leaving merely a thin icy ring around his dark pool of arousal. “You can use both hands if you want…”

“Let me try that,” Tommy surrounds Buck in his arms, pinning him against the kitchen surface. Then, he starts working on the dough, using his entire body, making sure to time every pressing motion with a thrust from the hip, rocking the younger man into the edge of the counter.

“Mmm — Ah…” the friction generated by Tommy’s movement alone is enough to make Buck moan. He never thought baking could be this erotic. “That — That works…”

He allows himself to enjoy Tommy’s sweet show of strength for a few moments before firmly gripping Tommy’s wrists, stilling him. “It’s — It’s done. Now we put it back into the mixing bowl,” he hastily drops the dough into the metal container, causing a loud thud, “and leave it in the fridge overnight.”

Tommy gives him one more kiss on the cheek, and a pat on his lower back, “go,” then steps aside.

Buck nearly trips over his own feet walking towards the fridge. He hears water running in the background, probably over Tommy’s talented hands. Wrapping up the stainless steel bowl with more than enough plastic wrap, then shoving the whole thing into an empty corner of his fridge, Buck is all too eager to return to Tommy’s touch.

Slamming the fridge door close, Buck whips his head around in a millisecond to catch an eye full of Tommy in his shirtless glory for the first time in the night. He’s drying his hands with a kitchen towel, finger by finger, his biceps flex every time he rubs a digit clean.

Buck walks straight up to the object of his desire, waiting no time to close their distance. Hooking an elbow around Tommy’s neck, he pulls him into a deep, urgent kiss, while his free hand travels down from Tommy’s clavicle towards his nipple.

“Wait,” Tommy stops the exploring hand on its track, “wash your hands first.”

Buck groans in frustration. He unties the knot in his back, takes off his apron, then swiftly treks towards the kitchen sink to prepare himself for the ensuing nighttime activities.

Tommy follows him, settling snugly behind Buck while he’s cleaning his hands. Tommy slowly dips his mischievous fingers into Buck’s waistband, pleasantly surprised to find bare skin underneath.

“Oh, no underwear? Someone’s eager tonight,” Tommy says in a seductive tone.

Roughly drying his hands on his own shirt, Buck spins around to face Tommy, “I’ve been waiting for you to notice…” Feeling Tommy’s fingers tapping the hem of his top, Buck peels it off right away, letting those enormous hands roam free across his body.

“Bed?” Tommy asks in between kisses.

“Couch.” Buck pants.

Just when Buck’s calculating in his head the logistics of moving to the couch without breaking contact with his man, Tommy withdraws his hand from Buck’s bare skin.

“Hold on tight,” Tommy suddenly grabs onto the back of Buck’s thighs and lifts him clear off the ground, carrying him towards the underside of the loft.

[bekolxeram]

I heard that there've been alleged drone sightings near airports and military sites in the US. While authorities have proclaimed that there's currently no apparent threat to public safety, none of that stopped misinformation from spread online like wildfire. Some say it's China/Russia, some say it's alien, some even take matters into their own hand.

Those trails of smoke, my friend, are called chem contrails. They're basically lines of clouds created by particles emitted by the exhaust of aircraft engines. The particles act as cloud seeds (nuclei) for water droplets to condense around. You see 2 trails here in the video, but if you're looking at 4 engine aircraft, like the A380 on my blog header, you'll see 4 trails. Thus, the mysterious "drone" our friends here are looking at (and pointing a high power laser at), is most likely a commercial jet airliner at cruising altitude.

And then, you have mainstream media outlet reporting this:

We know it's not aliens, because since when do aliens fly with the exact navigation lights configuration as per FAA regulations?

And since when do drones have not only a tail rotor, but an Airbus trademark Fenestron style tail rotor?

The "drone" in question, is actually a Guimbal Cabri G2 light helicopter. You can compare the positions of the red light on top of the tail and the green light on the right side of the fuselage in these 2 photos.

Apparently it's gotten so bad that the FBI had to release a statement urging citizens not to point lasers at or even attempt to shoot down "suspected drones".

I'm just saying, it'd be interesting terrible if some dumb people decide to mess with Tommy's helicopter while he's working...

You know, in case you're still trying to crash that helicopter.

[bekolxeram]

We should do a BuckTommy hashtag for Christmas called #AllIWantForChristmasIsLou and coordinate it with a bunch of feedback to ABC’s Prgramming Feedback inbox reminding them there’s still support for the ship

[bekolxeram]

I was too busy showcasing how phallic the cyclic control is last night. I didn't realize I accidentally came up with a new hc for how Tommy started calling Buck "Evan".

They were playing airline pilots addressing the passengers because there was a kid onboard. Buck thought pilots must introduce themselves by first name. He liked the sound of Tommy saying it so it's stuck. Et... voilà.

Remember when Buck called shotgun and sat in the front next to Tommy when the chopper was returning to the Coast Guard ship in 7x03?

Buck had always wanted to watch helicopter controls up close, at least that was what he told himself.

"Everybody strapped in?" Tommy asked, one last thing before takeoff.

"Yup," Bobby responded, wiggling the child's seat belt buckle just to make sure.

Tommy pulled a lever, and the rotor immediately started turning. "Lad... uh... only gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. My name is Tommy. Joining me on the flight deck, we have..." Tommy looks at Buck.

"Uh... Evan."

"Evan, with me. On behalf of LAFD and... myself, I'd like to welcome you onboard. This type of aircraft is um... AS350, also known as AStar, operating flight search and rescue uh... one? Our estimated time of arrival is... I don't know... in 15 minutes? Please keep your seat belt fasten at all time. I wish you a wonderful journey."

Buck was grinning so hard that his cheeks were sore. How could this man still be so funny after working on a clandestine mission all night over the ocean?

"Watch closely, kid." Tommy winked.

And Buck did.

"Wow... I wonder what else this hand can do... to my dick," Buck subconsciously thought to himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When it's time for Bucktommy's first helicopter lesson, they were in the same type of helicopter as the cruise ship rescue.

Tommy was just taking off, like he had done for over a thousand times. LIke a good instructor, he planned to let Buck feel the controls only when they had enough altitude to play with.

"The two cyclics are linked. You can see how little I'm moving the stick. You don't want to over control a helicopter." Tommy said while trying to get them off the ground.

Buck looked down. "Woah..."

"Look what you're doing to me. That's so hot..."

[bekolxeram]

Remember when Buck called shotgun and sat in the front next to Tommy when the chopper was returning to the Coast Guard ship in 7x03?

Buck had always wanted to watch helicopter controls up close, at least that was what he told himself.

"Everybody strapped in?" Tommy asked, one last thing before takeoff.

"Yup," Bobby responded, wiggling the child's seat belt buckle just to make sure.

Tommy pulled a lever, and the rotor immediately started turning. "Lad... uh... only gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. My name is Tommy. Joining me on the flight deck, we have..." Tommy looks at Buck.

"Uh... Evan."

"Evan, with me. On behalf of LAFD and... myself, I'd like to welcome you onboard. This type of aircraft is um... AS350, also known as AStar, operating flight search and rescue uh... one? Our estimated time of arrival is... I don't know... in 15 minutes? Please keep your seat belt fasten at all time. I wish you a wonderful journey."

Buck was grinning so hard that his cheeks were sore. How could this man still be so funny after working on a clandestine mission all night over the ocean?

"Watch closely, kid." Tommy winked.

And Buck did.

"Wow... I wonder what else this hand can do... to my dick," Buck subconsciously thought to himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When it's time for Bucktommy's first helicopter lesson, they were in the same type of helicopter as the cruise ship rescue.

Tommy was just taking off, like he had done for over a thousand times. LIke a good instructor, he planned to let Buck feel the controls only when they had enough altitude to play with.

"The two cyclics are linked. You can see how little I'm moving the stick. You don't want to over control a helicopter." Tommy said while trying to get them off the ground.

Buck looked down. "Woah..."

"Look what you're doing to me. That's so hot..."

[bekolxeram]

Huh? Why’s he trending for no apparent reason?

[bekolxeram]

send this to all your favourite moots and roll a snowball! KEEP THE SNOWBALL ROLLING!❄️🤍❄️🤍❄️

Merciiiiii!

Thank you, Ruta, for being kind to me and bitching about Brad with me.

I owe you for encouraging me to make my Brad-1-1 edit. That's my proudest work so far.

Give me all the snowball please! I'm like reverse Olaf. I love snow but I've never seen it.

[bekolxeram]

send this to all your favourite moots and roll a snowball! KEEP THE SNOWBALL ROLLING!❄️🤍❄️🤍❄️

Yes please! Thank you for the snowball! I love snow!

But I've never seen snow, unfortunately, even when I was living in France. That's a fun fact. It started snowing an hour after I left town, twice. I love it, I crave it arrrghhhh!

So please keep it coming!

(Good job on the sad fics btw. I've been going through them slowly because I've been crying so damn much,)

[bekolxeram]

Remind myself to not get too deep into disk horse about real people

But also...

I mean I'm kind of happy to see people stay true to themselves regardless of online fandom projections?

One stays a religious conservative, the other stays a politically chaotic guy with at least an open mind.

Anyway. Happy to see I was not wrong.

[bekolxeram]

This reaction hits different now that we know this was filmed after the breakup.

We spent 2 weeks speculating what this face could mean or foreshadow in terms of Tommy's backstory. Turns out it might have had something to do with Lou knowing Tommy was about to exit the show even lonelier than before.

Everyone say "thank you Lou".

[bekolxeram]

Tommy could tell there was something written on the other side of the post-it note.

Maybe now he'll send that text.

Thank you @hunnysfwart ily <3

[bekolxeram]

prompt from anon ↪ How about,,,, Tommy pinning Buck to a wall while he's also carrying him 🤭🫣

[bekolxeram]

I took a break from scrolling for a few days and came back to us not only falling deep into the rpf rabbit hole, but combining it with popular Bucktommy kinky tropes as well.

The Bucktommy to daddy kink to mpreg to rpf to mpreg rpf to fuck it let’s mix them all together pipeline is a force of nature.

[bekolxeram]

thank god you guys have moved on from mpreg to rpf 💖

[bekolxeram]

Inside Me There Are Two Wolves 80s English New Wave Legends

One is depressed, the other is so depressed he dances.