#movie: spin me round

[whatiwork4]

We debated in posting anything at all when it came to Jeff Baena as there is just so little a person that is private by choice could possibly want out there.

… But that is all just to lead to Jeff Baena and who he was as an artist. The other aspects are not anything the public was given the rights to by choice and that should continue. Yes they were married on paper at the time of his death but that really shouldn’t matter at all.

What greater tribute to an artist can one make than watching something that at one point they put all their time and dedication into?

As a trigger warning, he wrote about suicide in several of his films and there are events around them that may be triggering, especially now. To the Aubrey Plaza fans she is in most of them. His best, arguably, is HorseGirl (2020) on Netflix. His last was Spin Me Round (2022) which can be viewed on Hulu, AMC +

Feel free to like or reblog this because there is a lot more to this person than who he married despite what the media has tried to insinuate.

And to those who are facing the darkest of decisions and don’t see a way out - someone out there sees you and understands. Don’t go.

[miniagula]

movie sonadow would be so l umity-coded…and i say this bc their dynamic is similar to the games but with a different and tender perspective: they both empathize deeply with each other now, and this shadow is not as reticent or closed off bc of that. that being said: movie!sonic would ABSOLUTELY 'YOU'RE the sweet potato!' the hell out of shadow

[geuretea]

Hello good day

Have a spinning Arrietty I found

SPINNING ARRIETTY!!! I should watch the movie

I give you this as an exchange

[theknucklehead]

"So long-a Bowser!"

[multifandominfj]

And I will shout this from the hill tops

[mrwolfhare]

I was unable to upload a drawtober pic yesterday, so... here's a gif of Rocket spinning in a chair to make up for it.

[cassiebones]

Something something be the change you want to see in the world.

Not enough fanfiction for this movie so I wrote some.

Sorry @ everybody waiting for me to update Suburban Magic, but here's something smutty and gay and involving a canonically queer character played by Aubrey Plaza.

Here is the Youtube Video with all of her scenes. This story is a canon divergence where they were never interrupted from going on their date the first night they met (when Molly Shannon comes in)

The chemistry between Aubrey and Alison Brie is amazing. The last scene is....

[l1zzygr4ntforever]

you're a nice man and i am a na-na-na-nasty girl

♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡°♡

[simonz-angel]

shower time w/ simon n his pretty lil roommate

water beats down at his shoulders, scorching drops pelting down the arch of his arms, down the rippling muscles of his chest. soap lingers on his skin as his hand words quick strokes over his cock, head falling back to let water run through his hair and over his flushed face.

on the other side of the shower curtain there you are, he can barely see the silhouette of your body, can barely make out the soft of your voice. but fuckkkk the mere outline of your plush curves had him in some fuckin trance.

“ugh, i still don’t understand why they couldn’t just come over and watch a movie with us.” you’re speaking of your friends, painting your lips in a cherry, explosive red as you get ready to go out to the bar together. but simon couldn’t focus on anything except the emphasis of us. good god.

he presses his free hand to the striking cold shower tiles, lip stung between his teeth as he chokes back his guttural noises. his stomach rising, flexing and pulling back suddenly taut against his organs, breath ragged.

“si?” you chirp, and he can hear the click of your heels at the edge of the curtain. he can see the slightly sliver of your soft, thick legs. fuck fuck fuck. “would you tell me if i look good in this.”

and he abides, folding his back to the shower wall, hips reeled forward to keep working his hand. and when the beads of water strike his cock, he’s in shambles, jaw dropping and eyes rolling, barely concealing his reaction when his neck rolls and his head hits the cool tile.

his eyes scan you, your sweet dress cuts down into your breasts, accentuating em in a way that they spill into his face. it cuts into the plush of your waist, silhouetting your figure sweetly. and when his eyes drop to your legs, his cock spurts.

“so?” you giggle, giving him a lil spin, before you’re popping a hip in question. “how do i look?”

and simon chuckles to himself, pulling his lip between his teeth to hide the whimper that works itself up his goddamn throat.

“y-you look beautiful, babe.” he chokes slightly, desperate to lick the tang of your red lip off, to have it ringed round the base of him. n his head rolls back, low eyes looking down your dress as he mumbles, “one more spin for me?”

[luveline]

hotch's sister x spencer where hotch notices she's wearing spencer's clothes?

—You and Spencer get one another in trouble with your older brother. fem!reader, 1k

Your brother, though you’re adopted, has passed down onto you many things. Mostly his frown, but more embarrassingly his high-pitched giggle when something is startlingly funny. 

You laugh like a hyena at something Spencer’s said. He tries to grab you before you walk straight into his desk corner, but he’s too slow. You whack your hip and laugh again, this time in pain, bending over to grab at your wound in defeat. 

“Oh my god,” he says, trying not to laugh loudly, his efforts turning his own laugh into a giggle like yours as he bends down to see you, “are you okay?” He laughs so much he can barely ask. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeeze between a laugh, letting him pull you into a standing position. 

“What is it?” he asks, grabbing your hip, which worsens your laughter all over again. “What?” 

“You’re super handsy, Dr. Reid.” 

A sharp clearing of the throat echoes. You tense up, begging Spencer mentally not to give you away, but his hand practically flies back into his chest like you’ve burned him. 

You turn to the office. “Hi, Aaron.” 

Aaron Hotchner stands at the balcony overlooking the bullpen where you and Spencer stand. “Honey. Just give me two minutes and I’ll come down, okay?” 

You give a big smile. “Yes, sir.” 

His eyes move to Spencer. You watch Aaron decide to leave it alone and can’t help laughing for the hundredth time today as your brother turns around to head back into his office.

“He’s ridiculous.” 

“He’s gonna fire me,” Spencer says, though he doesn’t sound serious. 

“And then you can come work with me.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to work at your new job, that much is clear from his expression, but he has enough social wits to realise you’re flirting. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he says.

Spencer leans back against his desk, hair curled just under his ears, his hand reaching for you though he doesn’t touch. You sit down in his seat, the backs of your thighs sticking to warm leather. You aren’t working today, hence your social visit, and Spencer had distracted you on the way to Aaron’s office (through no fault of his own, you’d just wanted to see him again) with a shy wave. Like you hadn’t spent yesterday night together walking through fountains. 

You didn’t mean to fall in. Spencer helped you up onto the round basin of the fountain and you’d held hands, walking in circles so he’d have an excuse to keep rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. Seconds turned to minutes, the conversation unhurried, and one wrong move had you slipping. You fell calf deep into cold water, but his laughter had been worth it. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. 

You cross one leg over the other, your jean leg riding up your shin. “I’m thinking about what Aaron’s gonna buy me for lunch.” 

“What do you want?”

“I have no idea. It’s so hot out I barely wanna eat.” 

“Well, too bad, you have to.” He picks up a file from his outgoings and fans it at you nicely. When he talks again, his voice is lowered. “I was thinking, if you’re not busy, they have a movie playing in a couple of days at the independent, I think it’s in Portuguese, and I really think you’d like it.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, lavishing in the cold kiss of his manufactured breeze and the idea of another date. 

“About a little girl that turns into a star. They have popcorn bigger than anywhere else I’ve seen, too. Enough for three people in one bucket.” 

You try not to act too shy. “Well, hopefully it’s just me and you.” 

Spencer smiles at you between waves of his fan. “Is your hip okay?” he asks. 

“Spencer.” 

“Are you ready?” Aaron asks. 

You spin in Spencer’s chair toward your brother, shocked he’s there. He’s been funny since you and Spencer met, never controlling or cruel, yet clearly having a tough time coming to grips with the connection you’ve formed with his smartest employee. 

When you told him Spencer had given you his number, his eye twitched ever so slightly, and he excused himself for a glass of water. You’re not sure what is about the situation that irks him: he loves you, he loves Spencer in his way, he’d do anything for both of you, except acknowledge your burgeoning relationship. 

You nod but don’t stand. Your hip aches weirdly and the sitting is nice. Plus, it’s a sisterly duty to wind up her brother, even if you love him more than anybody on planet earth. 

“Spencer was just telling me about your accident in Scottsdale.” 

“He was,” Hotch says. He looks at you, and his eyes follow down the line of your leg to your shoes, where they stay. 

You glance down. 

“I’m trying something new,” you say, sitting up quickly. Scottsdale doesn’t seem so funny. 

“I can see that.” 

You’re wearing Spencer’s socks, odd ones sticking up past his borrowed converse. “It’s summer,” you say, standing up. 

“Mm.” He gestures for you to stand in front of him, his hand on your shoulder kind but firm as he steers you away. “And the odd socks, that’s a conscious choice?” 

“Don’t be mean.” 

“I’m not.” 

You glance back at Spencer and grin at him as you’re shepherded away. Hopefully he’ll call you later, but for now he looks like he’d like to dig himself a shallow grave.

“We went for a walk last night and I ruined my shoes,” you explain, turning your gaze to Aaron and his reluctant smile. “They were still wet this morning.” 

“What about those loafers I got you for your birthday?” he asks. 

“Well, I didn’t have them with me.” 

Aaron nods. There’s a certain impassiveness to his expression that you’re familiar with, even if it signifies disappointment. That you’re not so used to. 

“I thought you liked Spencer?” you ask. 

“I do. But I love you, and he’s…” 

“He’s what?” 

“At risk.” 

“You’ll just have to keep him safe for me,” you say, smiling at him breezily. 

Aaron seems to agree silently. You’re almost to the elevators when he says, “Please, wear your own socks. I know you know how to do your laundry, I’m the one who taught you how to do it.” 

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[fromthestacks]

Spin Me Round

[evie-sturns]

warm - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a long day at work, all matt wants is to be inside of you.

contains: smut, cockwarming, fluff, clingy!matt.

-------------------┌── •✧• ──┐----------------

7:46pm

i lay spread across the couch under a fluffy blanket, suddenly i hear the door click open.

“hey matt!” i call out, matt lets out a small groan in response.

he slumps into the living room, his eyes fixed on his phone.

“how was your day?” i ask, patting the spot next to me on the couch.

“total shit.” he mumbles, flopping down next to me on the couch, his hair laying messily across his forehead.

“i’m sorry baby.” i sigh, running my hand through his locks.

his hand snakes round to my waist, pulling me in closer to him

“you want me to make you some dinner?” i ask softly, he shakes his head.

“anything at all that i can do to make you feel better?” i question, running my nails up and down his back.

“just want you real bad.” he says quietly,

“like how?” i ask with a small smile,

“you know what i mean,” he whines,

his hands find their way to my sides as he flips me over onto his lap.

i straddle him as he looks up at me with needy eyes,

“please?” matt breathes, i smile at him as i cup his jaw, pressing a kiss to his pink lips.

i tug down the waistband of his light grey sweatpants, there’s nothing underneath.

of course.

i take his throbbing length into my hand, pumping him a few times. he throws his head back with a small smirk, his hands cover his face as i hear a pathetic whimper fall from his mouth.

“are you sure you’re not too sleepy?” i ask, he looks up at me before speaking

“just- sit on me please, just warm me-“ he whispers

i grin, sinking my top teeth into my bottom lip.

i stand up off of his lap, spinning myself away so my ass is facing him.

i tug down my shorts and panties swiftly, letting them pool around my ankles.

i feel matt’s eyes burning into me, “fuuck…” he groans, earning a small giggle from me.

i reverse before sitting down on his lap, my back on his chest.

i reach behind me and grab his dick, holding it in position as i hover above his tip, now leaking pre-cum.

his hands grip my hips as i slowly lower myself onto his tip, “ohmygod-“ i moan out,

“good girl, try take it all for me, okay?” he whispers into the back of my hair.

i nod frantically as matt guides me further down onto him, he lets out a soft groan, watching his dick disappear inside of me.

i finally bottom out, i flop backwards on matt’s chest, resting my head on his shoulder.

“oh god matt-“ i sigh, feeling him rest in my stomach comfortably.

“you did so well, didn’t you? took me all the way.” he praises me,

“mmhm!” i hum,

matt tugs the large fluffy blanket i was resting on earlier, and drapes it across us. hiding what we’re doing,

suddenly, the realisation hits.

“matt- chris and nick are gonna be home really soon right?” i ramble,

matt tenses under me,

“no- no i promise they won’t.” he speaks, he doesn’t sound too sure of his words, but i’m not sure that neither one of us want to move.

“let’s just keep watching your movie okay?” he says, shifting under me, a pathetic whimper escapes my mouth from the fullness.

he grips my waist as i lay fully back on him, “you feel so good,” he sighs,

“thank you.” i grin.

“you like sitting on my dick, don’t ’ya sweetheart?” matt speaks softly,

i nod, earning a soft chuckle from matt.

-

8:59pm

i’ve been sitting on matt’s cock for almost an hour now, enjoying every second of it as i attempt to focus on the movie infront of us.

abruptly, the front door swings open.

chris bursts inside, looking over into the living room, nick follows right behind him,

“oh- hey y/n!” chris calls out before approaching the living room.

i hear matt’s breathing pick up from behind me,

“you okay? you’re cheeks are flushed like crazy.” chris inspects my face before walking over to me.

shit shit shit.

little does chris know that right below the thin blanket i’m cockwarming his triplet brother

he presses a hand to my forehead, “you’re literally sweating what the fuuuck.” chris’s eyes furrow,

matt bounces his knee up and down anxiously, slightly shifting himself inside of me each time.

“you should come get water.” chris sighs,

i shake my head instantly, “nope- no no i shouldn’t.”

i’d say i’m a shit liar.

chris shoots me a weird look before turning around, “don’t infect the household with your feverrrr” he calls out,

i sigh deeply as chris disappears, that was close.

—————-

@sturngirly @stellasturnzz @beccaluvschris @iammattsturniolo @issysh3ll

@downbad4reid

sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

[angvl3tears]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃⋆.˚

she smells like strawberry and vanilla… bsf!chris x angel!reader .. sweet, pure and delicate ׂ ִ ₊ 𓈒⊹ ݁ ౨ৎ

content 𐙚 fluff, no use of ‘y/n’, chris pining

❛ angel? y’coming? ❜ chris questions. voice laced with urgency and desperation. his need to be around you showing. he fidgets with the rings on his fingers, twisting and turning. restlessly moving ‘round on the couch as he hears your commotion in the kitchen.

“m’coming!” you call out, tone sugary and sweet. like you always were.

matt notices chris’s restlessness, eyebrow raising in his direction. “chill kid, she’s been gone all of five minutes.”

chris pays no mind. just waiting for his sweet angel. he doesn’t even really care about the movie waiting to be watched on the tv. jus’ wants you. his best friend. the ache in his chest growing the longer you’re away.

you grab the bowl of popcorn, delicate hand taking hold of your hello kitty mug in the other. peach and strawberry wafting through your senses as the teabag settles. button nose scrunching up in delight.

“anyone want anything while m’ in’ere?” you wonder, asking the triplet boys. so considerate. so sweet. just as you were about to step foot out of the kitchen. fluffy sock covered foot toeing the line.

chris’s heart warms. sound of your voice so sincere. his hands settling. god, you’re just so sweet. always were, he can’t help but think. lips quirking up. jus’ can’t get enough of you.

“no, thank you!”

“all good!”

“chris?” you call out sweetly. “y’want anything?”

he smiles to himself, messing with the material of his fresh love hoodie. “no, m’okay angel. thank you.” he replies and your heart stutters. swelling and fluttering. that nickname like music to your ears.

with that, you take the step out of the kitchen and into the living room. glossy lips turning up into a sugary smile as you spot chris in the corner of the couch. a space beside him just for you. little baby flutters swirl in your tummy. giddiness washing over you.

you gently place the bowl of popcorn on the table, bending down to do so. the fresh love logo stretching on your ass, giving chris a good view of the pink sweatpants he specially designed as you do so. he coughs, ears turning pink. eyes not straying.

you spin, like the angel you are. beautiful hair bouncing. practically like a halo around you. you flash him a grin, holding your mug in both hands.

“c’mon, you jus’ gonna keep me waiting?” he tilts his head. stare meeting yours. your cheeks turn a shade darker. even as you giggle, shaking your head ‘no’ in response. chris smiles at the sound, his chest aching with something so familiar.

you take a tentative step forward, chris scooching so you have room to crawl in beside him. careful of the mug filled with hot water. you sigh as you sit down on the cushiony couch. chris’s arm falling over your shoulders so naturally. you don’t even notice the tingly feeling in your stomach.

nick presses play on the movie, everyone focused on the screen. you take small sips of your tea. you couldn’t tell whether it was the presence of chris warming you or the hot drink. either way you were engulfed with warmth. feet tucked under you. hair splayed across his hoodie covered chest. chris’s favourite sight.

he smiles in content, fingers brushing over the smooth skin of your shoulder. breathing in your sweetness. strawberry and vanilla. his favourite. everything about you was. so angelic. doll hearted. precious.

“m s’glad your here, sweet girl.” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. you pause, mug inches away from your mouth. your cheeks warm and you gush. turning to face the boy.

the smile you give him will be embedded into his mind. so beautiful. god his heart nearly stopped right then and there. “m’glad i’m here too, chris.” doe eyes glazing over with love. cheeks full and rosy. you lean up ever so slightly and press a sticky, strawberry scented kiss on his cheek.

chris feels himself go warm and fuzzy all over. wanting to feel you do that over n over. till he’s sick of it. you give him a small smile before facing the tv once again. snuggling back into his chest. sipping on your tea happily.

matt glances over at his brother, finding him sitting there stunned, blush coating his cheeks. chris meets his stare and matt smiles shaking his head.

chris ignores him, tightening his arm around you. resting his cheek on the top of your head. you shuffle closer, if possible. embracing the warmth. so warm. so safe. in his arms. your best friend. always protecting his little sweet angel.

god he loved you.

© angvl3tears, all rights reserved. do not translate my work without my permission. please don't copy my work! smooches xoxo

[keeep-it-lite]

PERFECT!

dizzy...

This was gonna be a multi-movie montage but I started putting it together and he and the camera are just constantly spinning around in Spontaneous Combustion

I could have put in more flame clips for DRAMA, since that's the actual theme of the movie, but lbr it's just an excuse to cut together all my fave clips of BD being pretty 💕

[alchemistc]

Let's goooo! 15. trembling hands

I already did this prompt but I've been steeping in a pile of blankets and a heating pad and miserable cramps for hours just thinking about this so:

"I just keep thinking about the last time you kissed me," Buck says, and he hates the waver in it, hates the way he has to set the neatly packed bankers box down on his island because his hands are shaking as bad as his voice.

Tommy gives him the kind of look he'd expect to see if he rounded a dark curve late at night and his headlights caught a deer crossing the road.

Total devastation lies ahead. Neither one of them gets out of this without a scratch.

He'd had a call, years back now. Some family driving home after an evening of movies and arcades and dinner, a nice newer SUV, a nervous creature who would have had plenty of time to cross into the woods but got stuck in the beam of light hurtling towards it. Until it tried to jump the vehicle right before impact.

The dad had died quick, Buck remembers. They'd only found that out later, though, because the deer hadn't died. Not then. Not right away. Not until after they'd arrived, because they'd watch the thing, stuck in the windscreen, panicked and dying and kicking.

Animal control didn't make it on scene until after the moms chest had been caved in.

Tommy's grip on the box in his own hands looks painful.

"It was just - it was the kind of kiss I figured we'd share a few thousand more times, you know?"

Nothing special, a barely there peck, an appetizer because they had places to be and they'd lost more than one reservation getting caught up before so they'd made it a habit of the greeting kiss being... quick.

"I just wish I'd known it was gonna be the last time."

It hurts to say. It hurts to think, but this one's been spinning on a loop every time he's got idle hands and an idle mind and it feels like Tommy should at least know that he -

"I have to go," Tommy says. He'd set this up with that excuse - I have some of your things, can I drop them off before work - like he could rip the bandaid and be done and Buck had spent twenty minutes folding and refolding the same pair of Tommy's sweatpants before he found the nerve to respond with a thumbs up.

"Yeah," Buck says, and takes a moment to drink in the sight of him a final time. Tommy's eyes dart to the hand still hanging at his side, fingers tapping out a rhythm against his palm, unlike the one holding onto his kitchen island like a lifeline.

This is it.

There's - nothing left to tie them together. No excuses to see each other again outside of random happenstance. He'd debated stuffing one of Tommy's zip ups into the bottom of his laundry basket for about ten minutes after Tommy let him know he was headed over, but that's in the box with everything else.

He has to look away when he realizes his vision's gone a little blurry.

"I'll... see you," Buck manages, and convinces himself he doesn't hear the blown out breath from where Tommy's standing.

He listens to the footsteps moving away. Hears the latch click and sucks in a breath so harsh Tommy has to hear it.

He remembers trying to shield those kids in the back seat from the sight of both their parents and wishes he at least had some bruises to show for the way his own chest feels like it's caving in.

The door clicks shut, and Buck turns towards it a second before he feels his chin being angled.

It's nothing like their first kiss, or the greeting kiss. This is the kiss he'd get when he couldn't shut the hell up about something and Tommy had to do something about it. The kiss they'd share when it became clear a movie wasn't holding his attention and Tommy pressed him into the couch cushions with a grin. The kiss he'd give when he was so overwhelmed by how he felt and didn't have the words to explain it so he'd poured every ounce of - of love into his lips and his tongue and his teeth because even if he didn't know how to say it he wanted Tommy to know.

It slows and settles into something soft and breathy and Buck lets the hand he'd curled over Tommy's jaw drop to his chest when they break it. Their breathing is shaky, and the hand clenched in the back of Buck's shirt shakes before he breaks the hold. Buck keeps his eyes closed. His throat is tight.

"That's - if I'd known it was the last one, that's the one I'd have wanted it to be," Tommy says, and then he's pulling away. Leaving.

The door clicks open and shut while Buck's eyes are still closed, and he stands there in silence for a good ten minutes until he's sure he can breath again. When he licks his lips he doesn't recognize the taste of the lip balm Tommy'd left behind there.

The box of Tommy's stuff is sitting on the end table.

It takes Buck four goddamn tries to type out a coherent text, with the way it's shaking in his hand.

You forgot to take your stuff, he sends.

Tommy's the kind of old school where he keeps his phone in the center console while he's driving, so he doesn't expect anything back immediately.

He refuses to let himself read into it at all. An honest mistake after leaving them both more hurt than the first time around.

He'll ask Chim to deliver it so they don't have to see each other again.

Forty-two minutes later, he happens to glance at his phone just in time to see the bubbles.

They disappear. Reappear. Disappear.

How forgetful of me.

And that's - that's all he gets for another five minutes. He nearly tosses his phone in the air when the bubbles come back, like somehow someone will have witnessed him staring at it hard enough to burn a hole through it.

Maybe you could bring it by sometime.

MVA, two adult males, significant internal injuries.

The bubbles are still there.

Think I may have forgotten a few of your things, anyway.

Buck doesn't believe that for a fucking second. He'd had a drawer, two hangers, a spot under the sink in the bathroom. Tommy's place had always reminded Buck how well suited they were, with how meticulously everything had a place.

Doesn't seem like you, Buck shoots back, and tries not to examine how close to the line of flirty he's being.

That was a terrible last kiss, Tommy sends back, almost immediately.

Buck's hands don't shake when he sends the next message. It's a blatant lie. It probably broke top ten. We could fix that.