#TOMMY KINARD

[thetouchof118]

got inspired by the lou priest outfit pic.. yeah.

[verschlimmbesserung]

Prompt:

Buck finds army pics of Tommy (and starts a new hobby)

[bucksaiga]

When Buck returns home, he’s met by the most adorable sight.

There’s his Tommy, sleeping on the couch, book dangling from his hand, glasses resting crooked on his face.

He slowly approaches, grabs the book and marking Tommy’s page, then gently removes his glasses.

“Hey.” He softly whispers. “Tommy.”

“Mmh.” Tommy hums in response.

“You fell asleep in your glasses again, babe.”

“Hmm.” He hums again, eyes fluttering open.

“Do you like sleeping in your glasses? Do they help you see your dreams better?” Buck teases, leaning in to kiss Tommy’s forehead.

“I can see you just fine.” Tommy mumbles, reaching to caress Buck’s cheek.

Buck chuckles, a wide smile on his face. “A-am I your dream?”

“Mhm.” Tommy nods.

“Ready for bed? I had a long day and I’m exhausted.” He offers Tommy a hand.

“Yeah.” Tommy accepts, letting Buck lead him to the bedroom, so he can sleep in the arms of his dream come true.

[buffaluff]

🏳️‍🌈🚒polyfire at pride 🔥🎊

finished prompt fill with @911actions gotcha for gaza, for Simone on twitter! thanks for donating, i had a blast with this of course 🫶

while the event is over, the need for donations doesn’t stop! so please continue to help families in need 💖🍉

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Buck's at the grocery store buying his umpteenth bag of flour when he sees a very familiar silhouette waiting in line at the cash.

Tommy.

Three months apart and now they finally run into each other?

At two am at the closest twenty-four grocery store Buck could find? When he's dressed in a pair of holey sweatpants and a stained hoodie with dirty hair and a face full of scruff? No cart! Just him and his twenty-pound bag of flour that he's cradling to his chest like a powdery security blanket?

Amazing.

Awesome.

Fucking perfect.

Exactly how he's pictured it.

As Buck gets closer though, his eyes narrow at the sight before him.

Not at all like he's pictured it.

Tommy's shoulders curl inward as he hunches over his cart, head low. His threadbare shorts hang off of him in a way they never would have three months and one day earlier. His feet are shoved into his shoes without socks.

Tommy hates going without socks.

His curls have grown long and messy, lying limp against his scalp.

Buck carefully sidles up beside him, not quite in his field of vision yet, frowning at how pale Tommy's skin is. Practically grey.

He looks like shit.

For one whole moment, Buck wishes he could feel some kind of vindication—gloat, maybe—but he doesn't have the energy.

Or the heart for it.

And one glance into Tommy's cart has him refocused on being incandescently enraged over the bullshit currently sitting in there.

"What the hell, Tommy?" Buck bursts out, making the man jump and whirl around.

"Ev—Buck, what? What are you doing here? What's—what's happening right now?" Tommy stares at him, wide and unblinking, like he's afraid to take his eyes off him.

"What's happening is I'm saving you from this cartload of crap," Buck says, elbowing his way past him to gain possession of the cart.

He shifts the bag of flour to one arm and uses his free hand to pull out the package of bakery donuts that somehow manage to look cracked and soggy all at the same time.

Then the box of cookies that he knows for a fact taste like they're one step away from cardboard.

Then the cake that says 'Happy Birthday, Leo!' and has a seventy-five percent off sticker on it. He side-eyes Tommy for that one.

Tommy makes a face right back.

Buck keeps going, pulling out the lemon loaf that doesn't actually look too bad, but whatever—his is better.

Everything of Buck's is better than this crap.

...Tommy just doesn't know that yet.

"Just stop! For one second." Tommy reaches out to grab Buck's wrist before he can grab the package of—gross—bran muffins. He takes a deep breath before he finally meets Buck's eyes.

"What is this?" he asks again quietly.

"Me, actually stopping you from making a mistake this time," Buck says, yanking his wrist back with a scowl. He falters for a second when his own words register in his brain, but he shakes it off and grabs the muffins out of the cart, dumping them beside the cookies. "This stuff is all terrible. You deserve better, Tommy."

"It's what they have," Tommy said tiredly.

"Yeah, well, I have better stuff at my place." Buck sets his flour down in front of the unimpressed-looking cashier. "Sorry about that," he says, digging out his wallet. "We'll just take this. And these."

"Oh, I'm allowed to keep the oranges?" Tommy rolls his eyes as Buck grabs the bag out of the cart and places them alongside his flour.

"For now," Buck snips back.

Maybe he'll make an orange loaf.

Right after he convinces Tommy to come back to his place and he feeds him edible baked goods and—and maybe they talk and...

Yeah.

This isn't a half bad plan.

He can work with this.

"Just the flour and the oranges," he says to the cashier, pulling his card free as he flashes a grin at Tommy. Feeling it spread wider when the corners of Tommy's mouth twitch reluctantly in return.

He can work with this.

[thetouchof118]

welp. more priest!tommy sketches for you all 🙂

[setmeatopthepyre]

buck was in ketosis while he was dating tommy (famed carb enjoyer), symbolizing that he was denying himself the ability to truly appreciate and/or level with tommy to the fullest extent. now they're broken up all he does is bake, symbolizing that only now that they're apart does he really know what he's missing and is trying desperately to understand the recipe that makes up tommy kinard. in this essay i will-

[ohithankyou]

um what’s the science behind him being so adorable here

[jacki-daytona]

Ok BUT WHAT DID THEY PUT IN THESE TWO?? IM CRAZY??

[reginamillls]

At this point Buck has an app on his phone that tells him when it will be sunset.

He never wants to be late.

The elevator ride to the top is long, and it's followed by four flights of stairs, and he can feel himself almost running up them, long legs taking two at a time till he's at the top. The view, is breathtaking. But Buck isn't here for the view. He finds his usual spot just as the sun is dipping below the horizon and he can feel how the stone next to him heats, the magic throughout breathing life to the figure within. With the last of the sun's rays, the figure next to him is free, roaring to life as he stands from his protective pose over the castle. Buck can't help but look on as wings, powerful enough for flight, stretch into the air and then come back down around the creature's shoulders.

When the creature turns to him, Buck doesn't feel scared, he just feels welcomed. "Tommy," Buck greets and Tommy wrinkles his nose. The nick name was new, something more modern for the times. He likes to think that Tommy is actually fond of it. "Evan," Tommy replies and he steps down from the ledge to stand next to him. He smiles at Buck, sharp teeth on display. His eyes travel up and down Buck's body, something the other knows is how he is checking up on him, making sure that he hadn't been injured at all since they last met. Buck had been uncomfortable the first time Tommy had done it, the gargoyle could be intense at times, but over their interactions, Buck has come to find the action sweet. "Have you rested?" That was another thing, Tommy cared. He cared that Buck would often stay up all night, living off little sleep just to help him, and would call him out on it too. Tommy would remind Buck often that he had waited a thousand years to awaken from his curse, he could wait longer so that Buck wouldn't hurt himself. "I did," Buck says smiling at Tommy checking in on him. His smile grows though when he takes his backpac off and turns it around, opening it up to reveal an ancient looking book. "I found something, possibly a lead to what happened to the hatchlings." "We shall go over it then," Tommy states firmly, head tilted as he takes in the old book. "How did you come upon this?" Buck may have stole it, but that was a story for another time.

They work together on translating what they can that night, the two slowly gravitating towards eachother until Tommy is a solid weight at his side, his arm brushing against Buck's as they work to try and find answers. Buck desperately wants to help Tommy find his family, aching to know that his new friend has been alone for so long, seemingly the last of his kind. It speaks to him in a way he never expected, and in helping Tommy, befriending him, Buck feels a little less lonely as well.

[thestrangestthlng]

What a day for this gif set to bless my dash.

the duality of man, or whatever

[mmso-notlikethat]

Buck found out by accident.

It had been months since he’d last thought about calling Tommy—months since he stopped himself from scrolling through their old texts, staring at the little gray bubbles that no longer filled with words. Buck had told himself Tommy didn’t want to hear from him, that he was respecting the boundaries of a breakup.

But when the call came, everything Buck thought he knew shattered.

“This is the 217 captain,” the voice said, clipped and strained. “I thought you should know… Tommy Kinard’s been in a coma for the past three months.”

The words barely registered at first. Buck’s stomach dropped, his ears ringing. “What? A coma? What—how?”

The captain sighed on the other end of the line, explaining in halting sentences. An accident on a call. A head injury. No emergency contact listed. “I’ve been handling his medical decisions, but… I figured it was time someone who knew him better stepped in.”

Buck didn’t remember hanging up or getting in his truck. He only remembered sitting at Tommy’s bedside hours later, staring at the motionless figure he barely recognized. Tommy was thinner, his face pale and hollowed, the sharp edges of his cheekbones more pronounced. His hand, resting limply on the bed, felt cold when Buck hesitantly took it in his own.

At first, Buck visited every day. He brought books, even though Tommy couldn’t hear him, and flowers, even though Tommy couldn’t see them. He sat by the bed, rambling about the firehouse, about Maddie, about anything and everything just to fill the silence.

He told himself Tommy would wake up soon, that this was temporary.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Life pressed on, relentless. The firehouse needed him. Maddie and Jee-Yun and his new niece.

One day turned into two, then a week, then two weeks. The visits came less often, the guilt creeping in every time Buck walked past the untouched vase of wilted flowers he’d brought the last time.

Ten years passed.

Buck had a new life now. He adopted Alex, a quiet little boy who had turned his world upside down in the best way. Alex was six now, a ball of energy and curiosity, and Buck loved him fiercely. But there was always something missing—a hollow ache that never went away. A piece of him still sat in that hospital room, holding Tommy’s hand, waiting for him to wake up.

When the call came, Buck didn’t know what to feel.

“This is Dr. Omar,” the voice said, calm but cautious. “I’ve been reviewing Mr. Kinard’s case, and I believe there’s something we missed. He isn’t in a full coma—he’s in a minimally conscious state. There’s activity there, more than we originally thought. With the right stimulation and therapy, there’s a chance he could wake up.”

Buck sat frozen, the words sinking in slowly. His breath caught, his chest tightening. “He’s been… he’s been aware?” he finally managed to say, his voice cracking.

“It’s possible,” Dr. Omar said gently. “Not fully, but enough to respond to certain stimuli. It’s risky, and it won’t happen overnight, but…”

“I’ll be there,” Buck interrupted, his voice trembling. “Just… start whatever you need to. I’ll be there.”

-

The hospital room felt too small when Buck walked in. His heart pounded as his eyes landed on Tommy, propped up in the hospital bed, looking pale and frail but awake. Awake.

Tommy’s gaze lifted slowly, and their eyes met. Buck froze, caught between relief and something heavier, sharper. He tried to speak, but the words tangled in his throat.

Tommy broke the silence first, his voice hoarse. “Alex,” he said softly, his lips quirking in the faintest of smiles. “How’s Alex?”

Buck’s breath hitched. He blinked, shaking his head. “Alex?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy nodded weakly. “Your kid. You… you used to talk about him. A lot.”

The weight of Tommy’s words hit Buck like a punch to the chest. The reality of it—the fact that Tommy knew, that he’d been aware—sank in all at once. His knees nearly buckled, and he stumbled forward, gripping the side of the bed for support.

“I stopped coming,” Buck said, his voice cracking. “Tommy, I—I stopped coming. I thought… I thought you’d never know. I thought—” He cut himself off, his face crumpling as guilt bled into every word. “I’m so sorry.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, and he shifted slightly, wincing at the effort. “Evan…” he stopped, his face shifting into something like a smile, sad and fragile. “It’s fine. You didn’t owe me anything.”

[bucksaiga]

Minding my business when this thought crawled into my head and wouldn't leave

Anyway thinking about Buck and Tommy reuniting and Buck riding his cock in earnest, bouncing up and down while Tommy holds his hips nice and securely.

Buck's moaning and heaving, begging Tommy to never let him go, Tommy promising he won't.

Then Buck blurts out that he loves Tommy and they take a beat, then Tommy tightens his grip on Buck's hips, thrusting from beneath with newfound vigor, biting his lip and gazing into his eyes, saying "I love you too" as he comes inside Buck for the first time in too long.

[notashadowbutawave]

hey

7.05//7.06//8.05//8.06

[aesthetictarlos]

It started right after the break up. Tommy couldn't sleep so he grabbed his sketch book and started drawing. Doodles and casual patterns at first, then he sketched Buck's face.

After that, it became a habit. On the other side of the city - unbeknownst to him - Buck was baking while he filled his sketchbook with different drawings and sketches of his face, his body, his tattoos.

It helped him to not drown in guilt and regrets. It worked for a while, then the universe started screaming at him and he knocked on Buck's door like that first time and asked "Can we talk?"

It's been two months since they got back together and he didn't expect Buck to come into the kitchen with his sketchbook in hand.

"What's this?" Buck asks. "I– I was looking for that burgundy hoodie you gave me the first time I slept here and I found this in the closet. I haven't opened it but I'm– uh, I'm curious. You draw?"

Tommy feels a bit self-conscious but nods anyway. Buck told him about his stress-baking so it feels right to let him see how he coped when they were broken up. "Yeah. Go ahead, open it."

Buck opens the sketchbook and his eyes go wide as he admires different sketches of himself. When their eyes meet, Buck's are glossy. "This is how you see me?"

"Yeah."

"I've never felt this beautiful before, Tommy."