#something about buck and tommy facing their own - and each other's - darkness

[setmeatopthepyre]

i've just. been thinking about this scene from chimney begins a lot, especially in relation to the bucktommy break up.

in this episode, the changing relationship between chimney and the general population of the 118 is shown through his (attempts at) interaction with tommy. so this conversation he has with eli is as much about 'the other firefighters' in general as it is about how tommy has been treating chim.

and there's... something there in the 'you don't name it until you know it'll pull through' and the 806 breakup in which neither tommy nor buck say the words i love you but they do say pretty much everything else. it feels like they've both been hurt before by this thing called love that might make it feel like they're pushing their luck to name it. and there's something there in tommy ending things before buck can hurt him.

and then there's this:

and there's something there in buck looking at tommy and thinking, wow, he's so cool, he's so confident, (he has a cleft), he's so comfortable with who he is and that makes me feel comfortable.

eli tells chim: [switching to my quick attempts at gifs here bc the text is spread out over so many shots otherwise]

and what eli's saying is: feeling like a hero isn't enough. it can be your motivation to start, but it can't be the only thing that keeps you going. you can't always be a hero. no one can. everyone is flawed and everyone's gonna slip up. there's a darkness, and if you don't account for that, you're going to run into the hard things, the things you can't solve by being a hero, the things you have to struggle through, change your perspective for. if you try to ignore those things, you're going to learn some really tough lessons really fast.

and I'm thinking about tommy and buck not knowing the details of each others' pasts, being maybe a little too comfortable with how comfortable they were, enjoying that honeymoon phase rush and thrill, not really having dug into the darkness. they learn some tough lessons really fast.

tommy leaves buck. they both didn't name the puppy. (it still hurts)

chimney loses kevin. he faces the hard, dark parts of this path he's chosen and he chooses to continue anyway. because of this, he's is in the right place at the right time to save tommy's life.

[cjlouwho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[acesartemis]

day three of @tommykinardweek -> supernatural creatures

for @dark-alice-lilith

“So, do you believe us now?” Tommy growls a bit after the question due to his current ... figure. He still can't hardly believe it and the fur is quite literally staring at him in the face. 

A whine follows the question from a butterscotch-colored furry figure next to him the size of an honest-to-God, come-to-life Direwolf. Tommy leans over to give Evan a reassuring kiss — lick? — to the side of his face.

A human, hysterical laugh bubbles up from Eddie. “This — somehow — y'all are somehow messing with me. I knew those clams weren't — it's got to be — what bruja did you piss off?”

Tommy doesn't even curb the instinct to bare his teeth at the man. He could easily eat him, if he wanted to. Thankfully he didn't—at least not in that way.  Instead, Tommy decides to head-butt Eddie so hard he falls over. “I knew we should have called Hen.”

Eddie rights himself, still snickering. He clicks his tongue and actually pets Tommy's head and when his hand moves just right by his left ear, Tommy wants to downright howl in pleasure. He's saved the embarrassment by another head forcibly knocking into his—Evan was never one to be left out.

The human of the trio laughs again, only this time it's fond. “Okay, okay. I can't forget about you, Buck.”

Evan positively beams as Eddie gives his ears a scratch, tongue lolling out and everything. It's absolutely adorable. “So, if we're stuck like this... What do we do now? We... don't really fit in a car.”

“Or a house,” Tommy chimes in. He resists the urge to scratch himself with his back... paw. He would not be caught dead doing something so… undignified, even if it were only in front of Evan and Eddie. Especially in front of Evan and Eddie.

“Wait, I got it,” Eddie says with a clap. “I wanted to surprise you both with a ski trip over the holidays, but this… whatever, is more important.” 

He pulls out his phone, typing away with his thumbs. “Okay, so Bobby knows we’ll be out for the weekend. Annnd I texted Lucy to let your Cap know.

“This is so weird; I can't believe I’m gonna suggest this, but… I’ll drive and you two just,” he gestures at their wolf forms, “follow… by running, I guess? ‘Cause I don't think even my truck bed will fit you both.”

“Might as well make the most of it if we’re stuck like this.” Evan nudges Tommy’s snout with his own. “Race ya?”

Tommy gives his boyfriend a playful nip. “You're on.”

🐺🐾🐺

Twin blurs of butterscotch and gray follows Eddie's truck for hours as asphalt and metal and glass give way to grand trees in a breathtaking kaleidoscope of yellows and oranges and reds as they enter the Sequoia National Park area.

Eddie pulls up to a grand private cabin. The land is secluded and, Eddie remembers with a snort, “pet-friendly”. Thankfully a former Army buddy of his pulled some strings so that they could crash for however long this event lasted.

The man follows the path behind the cabin on human legs, happy to find the quaint back area to sit. The sun would be setting soon, bringing with it the chill of the night.

As he watches his boyfriends lope back and forth, legs long and strong and sharp jaws playfully nipping at each other, Eddie is struck with envy. Sure, this was a fever dream incarnate and Eddie still couldn't quite believe the two beings—now howling as the moon and stars come out—were real, there was a part of him that yearned to be out there, wild and free, with them. But he wouldn't let himself dwell on the dark path that was bound to take him on and just relaxed, snapping photo and video proof if this wasn't all just in his head.

—It would be just like his head to think up a grand concept and just... leave him out of all the fun—

Stop that.

Enjoy.

🐺🐾🐺

It was no surprise to anyone that Tommy tired out first. Being an actual wolf matched Evan's nigh-insatiable energy to a tee.

As the younger of the two continued his mission of sniffing every tree about the place, Tommy trots over to their third, grinning a wolfish grin, and gives Eddie a large, slobber-filled lick-kiss. The man startles a bit, his eyes adorably droopy.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.”  He sidles over to Eddie, laying out next to him. Eddie's fingers find their way into his fur, akin to his fingers scratching through his or Evan's curls when they're lucky enough to get a quiet night together.

“Buck still... wolfing around?”

“Duh.” 

They share a laugh. Tommy tilts his head at him, frowning at the sight of Eddie clutching his hoodie to his body. They hadn't planned for this impromptu trip, much less the weather. LA nights got chilly, but not like this. “Why don't you go inside?”

“And miss all the fun? 'M fine!”

A low whine rumbles in Tommy's throat and he nudges Eddie with his head. “We'll be fine out here, what with the fur and all. The last thing we need is an Eddie-sicle.”

Eddie huffs, “It's not that cold.”

“And you’re not in protective Army fatigues anymore, either,” Tommy counters. They both knew intimately what desert-cold was, and this was far from it. But now all Eddie was geared with was a hoodie. Tommy also knew Eddie had a stubborn streak that would rival a bull when he wanted.

“C’mere, then. I’ll keep you warm.” If Tommy still had his human brows they’d be waggling.

“Hell no!”

“C’mon, aren’t I soft?”

“Yes.”

“And oh so waaarm!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Evy, come heeeere,” Tommy calls, deciding to bring in back-up. “Eddie’s cold and won’t snuggle!”

Evan literally bounds over at the call, obedient as ever, tail wagging and tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth. “Snuggles?!”

“Dammit, Buck, don't you dare!” Eddie warns but is blatantly ignored in favor of Evan (gently) body-slamming Eddie to the ground with his mass in a chaotic mess of kisses. Tommy gleefully joins in, wrapping his larger body around Eddie in equal parts protection from the elements and to ensure he doesn't escape. Eddie tries to wrestle Evan off of him to no avail.

“Okay, okay fine,” he relents with a fake pout, but Tommy is delighted to feel him snuggle back into his fur while Evan shifts to lay his head over Eddie’s body. They cocoon him thoroughly.

The trio are silent after that, taking in the breathtaking view of the clear starry night sky.

They are awoken by their shivering hours later, blessedly three humans again, only now two of them are naked. They high-tail it to the shower.

[geddyqueer]

i would love some tunnel fic AND (/or) ⛏️💕⛏️

ok i'm holding off on posting more about tunnel fic until i actually write more words. but because you asked so nicely, you're getting some background of geology fic AND a snippet.

this fic came about because annie sent me some bts shot of lou where he's wearing a fishing vest and i was like this is geology professor core. and then i simply couldn't stop thinking about it. back in my wayward youth i was a geology major and i've always thought that a field study would make for a great character study template, so the fic is laid out like a report:

the OTHER major player in this fic is that concept a few people were kicking around several months ago when that interview dropped about buck and tommy learning more about each other as their relationship developed (LOL LMAO!) that maybe tommy had a past partner who had died. and annie and i were sitting there in the sandbox, and we were like: what if his partner who died was older than him. what if his partner who died had been in a position of authority over him. what if his partner who died had been not only his professor and academic mentor, but also his gay mentor. and now, what if buck, a young spritely 20-something, recently self-actualized, with the hots for his older professor, was pushing up against all of that history of tommy's. all set against the background of my second-favorite thing to think about: rocks!

anyway, here's a snippet:

The room is dark, but the door's unlocked. Buck takes a chance and pushes it open. It doesn't look like there's anyone else in there, but there is a weird lump in the front corner behind the desk, and he can't quite make out what it is until he flips the light switch on and the lump startles and jumps and–it's a guy. 

Not just a guy, but the guy.

Even with the memory of the jacket he was sleeping on imprinted deep into his face, Buck can tell he’s good looking. He has eyes, after all. And speaking of eyes, this guy—and it has to be the same one whose papers Buck has been reading all week—well, his eyes are piercingly dark blue. He blinks rapidly, sits up, and stares Buck down with those eyes.

"Uh, hi," Buck says, as the guy shoves his jacket off the desk and slaps his own face a couple of times and gets to his feet. "Are you Dr. Kinard?"

"Shit," the guy says, his voice cracking a little with sleep. He clears his throat. "Was I supposed to have a TA this semester? Sorry–"

"Oh, no, no, I'm, uh. I'm just a student," Buck says with a chuckle. He doesn't mean to, but he bobs his head like he's shy. He's not shy! He's just clearly in the right place at the wrong time. Maybe he should let the guy snooze, come back in half an hour.

The guy–Dr. Kinard–frowns, and wow, the picture of him on the UC-Pasadena Geology Department website does not do him justice. He's really earned that spicy pepper, Buck thinks, and then mentally kicks himself for it. "Huh," Dr. Kinard says, then: "Christ. Did I sleep through class?"

"No! No, you're good, I'm just��I'm super early, first day on campus, all my classes were remote last year, and because I'm, you know, 'non-traditional', not fresh out of high school, I didn't go through the, uh, standard orientation." 

Real smooth, he thinks. He's rambling. He needs to stop rambling. At least the hot professor standing in front of him is starting to grin instead of rolling his eyes. 

"Anyway, I'm a Bio major but I picked this class because, well–"

"Easy credit?" 

Buck stares in shock, but Dr. Kinard isn't even looking at him; instead he's shuffling back toward his desk, hand reaching for the stack of papers that he was just using as a pillow. 

"What? No way," Buck says, and it comes out a little more forceful than he intends. "No, I read your dissertation. It was really interesting. The, uh, the section about the volcanism in the Quaternary era? Am I saying that right? At first I was just like, woah, this is cool, I didn't know about any of this but then I was looking at the timelines and realizing that the earliest humans were literally walking around getting all, you know, homo-erectus-y while that volcano was spewing! And now people walk around Yellowstone and we just have no idea!"

Dr. Kinard's hand hasn't moved since Buck started talking. He's just… still, leaning over his desk. "You. Hold on. You read my dissertation?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "It was good!"

[evita-shelby]

The Question of Age

Tommy and Alfie never liked the age difference between their daughters and their husbands, and yet neither hoped things would take a turn for the worse sixteen years later.

Takes place in the It's Only a Paper Moon fic where Diane falls in love and married John 'Bucky' Egan, Allie, Rose and Robert Collins are @justrainandcoffee ocs.

Cw:angst, large-ish age differences, alzheimer's disease, death. I think i aged up Allie and Diane again lol both were born in 1923/22 i guess

John Clarence Egan is not the man he wants for his little witch.

He is loud, American and left a string of broken hearts everywhere.

There was also his age, his girl was just too young for the man.

“And what age were you when you married your wife, treacle?” Alfie Solomons had joined on the side of the enemy here and welcomed John Egan into the family as if he were part of it too. “Exact same age the two of you eloped after knowing each other for what, six months?”

So he was being a hypocrite about this, what did it matter?

Diane was barely twenty-three and had met the infamous Major Egan of the Bloody 100th when she went behind his back and asked Churchill to send her where he couldn’t stop her. Churchill had sent her to the American Red Cross to spy for him at Thorpe Abbotts because no one trusts a Yankee.

Now the Prime Minister claims to be behind this fairytale romance in his toast to the new couple.

“He is taking her from me, to some place in fucking nowhere all across the ocean. Where the fuck is Manitowoc, Wisconsin anyways?” Tommy admits because that is something even Alfie would understand.

“We’ll get you a map then, my Rosie will be happy to help you pack and move there if you want to keep an eye on him.” The jew pats his shoulder and continues mocking him for his fatherly fears.

“If some stranger came for your Allie, you’d be sulking at her wedding too, Solomons.” Tommy points out and as luck would have it, sweet Allie is talking very animatedly with a man older than Bucky Egan. Some museum curator named Robert Collins who had been involved with the Monuments Men in Europe.

“For fuck’s sake, mate, she can’t be talking to him that way. He’s not even Jewish!”

It's not long when Tommy is sticking up for 40 year old Robert Collins at their wedding while Alfie sulks in a dark corner.

“Fuck you! You did this, Shelby.” Alfie curses as he pretends he is not hurting at seeing his little girl go with her now husband.

1961

John Clarence Egan was a few months shy of forty-six years old when he dies of a heart attack.

He leaves behind an inconsolable Diane and their two daughters, Rosemary Gale and Elizabeth Eve. His best friend, Gale ��Buck’ Cleven tries his best to console her as he’d lost his own wife six years prior and loved the man as much as she did.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Bucky was a good man.” Alfie Solomons is worse for wear especially after Rose’s death so recently. He’d come all the way here with Allie to give his condolences and comfort Di and her girls just as Di and Bucky had flown to Margate to kick Robert in the nuts and console Allie.

“He was, he will be missed.” Tommy admits solemnly. “I’m sorry for what Collins did to your girl, shouldn’t have stuck up for him at the wedding.”

“Who?” For a moment Tommy thinks Solomons is joking, but he sees the clear confusion in his face.

They had heard of his mind failing, forgetting the stove, the business and that Rose was gone.

“No one important, Solomons.” Tommy says and tries to change the conversation. “No one important.”

[turquoisevioiet]

jump into the heat

buck/eddie | rated: T | 22k | complete

summary: post-705 spec fic. following yet another doomed day intended to be full of joy for the 118, buck and eddie try to figure out their lives, themselves, and each other. a bachelor party, a decision, a move, an awakening, a realization, an acceptance, and a happy ending

Short excerpt from my favorite chapter, but minor spoiler alert:

“Can I ask you something personal? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Well, now Buck is scared, but he nods.

“You said I was the first man you’ve dated.” Buck is pretty sure he worded it in a more stupid way, but he lets Tommy continue. “Does that mean nothing ever happened between you and Eddie?”

“Why do people keep thinking that?” Buck laments, without meaning to. 

“I mean, I could list some of my reasons but if people think it enough that it’s a thing then maybe you already know. But… is that a no? I hope you know I don’t mind, I just prefer having all the context.”

Buck catches and holds Tommy’s gaze meaningfully, and shakes his head gently. “No. Seriously, I didn’t even consciously realize I liked guys until you.”

“Really?”

Buck furrows his brow, “Do you think I’m lying?”

Tommy shifts closer again and places his hand on his knee. “No, of course not.” He pulls his hand back before saying, “You just talk about him a lot more than purely platonic friends would. And more importantly, the way you talk about him, like he’s easily half of your life, and all of your future. Like a partner. Hell, you’re practically a second dad to his kid. I just was wondering if you’re still thinking of him through the eyes of the Buck you were before realizing you liked guys. The Buck whose mind the possibility wouldn’t have consciously crossed?”

“I– I don’t think so? I mean, I thought we just had a rough start and after working together really well, we became friends.”

“Can I ask what you mean by ‘rough start’?”

“I mean, I was kinda a different person back when he joined the team, just so you know. So, I was submitting myself for the LAFD calendar—don’t laugh—and then he showed up and first I thought I was angry because clearly he’d get it and I wouldn’t, I mean, look at the guy. He’s ridiculously hot and cool, it practically made me nauseous. But eventually I realized I was just jealous because he was, kinda, everything I wanted, to be.”

“Back then, if you had known you were bi, do you think you might have interpreted those feelings differently? Like a crush, maybe?”

That question hits Buck like a slap in the face. He honestly doesn’t know what to say, and just sits there frozen. And he realizes… what Tommy said about how Buck talks about Eddie… he realizes that he himself said basically the same thing to Eddie when describing how he views true love Bobby and Athena, and Maddie and Chim have.

“If so, you know that’s okay, right?”

Then it’s like a wave crashes down on top of Buck. A wave of anger at himself, and guilt. His ears are ringing. He’s suddenly rethinking a million interactions with Eddie all at once. “Tommy, I– I don’t know what to say. I’m– maybe–” 

“Seriously, it’s okay. You can’t control unresolved feelings. You should take time to let yourself think on it.”

Well, Buck can take a hint, at least. He feels like he needs to be alone, and Tommy probably does too. So he stands up, almost on auto-pilot. 

But he hovers there at the couch; no matter how much he needs to sit in a dark room and rethink the last few years, he also doesn’t want to leave this so unfinished.

“I’m really sorry,” he chokes out. 

Tommy stands up too and places his hands firmly on Buck’s shoulders, looking at him deeply. “It’s gonna be okay, Evan.”

Buck’s ears are still ringing when he gets outside, he just hears half of your life, and all of your future, and like a partner, and you’re practically a second dad, and Evan, but none of it is in his own nor Tommy’s voice.

read here!

[lordkingsmith]

Nick Russell and Jack Rose joke au kid;

Will be linked into Nick’s au kid page when I get to him lol. The just dance verse is only tangentially related but I got crossover fic and they do have their own power ranger team. If only those four had names or I’d include them too. These kids are a little special as just dance related so they get picrew and a song they’d be the coach of in the game.

-

Jack temporarily escaped into the earth dimension sitting beside the Just Dance verse with Team Spectronizer, the power ranger team for the Just Dance verse. Jack met Minh Qwan, Billy Cranston and Zack Taylor while there, developing into a sort of adoptive sibling to Minh. While there he also encountered Nick Russell and the Mystic Force team. Nick and Jack hit into an immediate rivalry. Similar to Tommy Oliver and Jason Lee Scott, and barely got along at all. Teasing, pranking and fighting each other. At one point Jack breaks his hand (and Nick’s nose) punching him in the face, and at another Nick loses fifty bucks in a backfired attempt to embarrass Jack.

When Night Swan came to collect her son, she almost succeeded in turning Nick Russell and Ollie Akana into Night Selves, evil versions of themselves. Jack managed to get them both to safety. Once everything was said and done, months after that, Jack came back to live in the home town and reality Leda abandoned, and Nick was there waiting. Deciding to give it a go after it all. They’re together, but don’t live together. Nick made their kids through magic, and Jack visits often, splitting his time between his responsibilities in one world and his family in another. They have two children, Stryfe and Wren Russell.

Stryfe Russell

Age 26. Runs a vintage music and music related retro item store in Briarwood. The one time he went to visit his sister, he got into a slight situation that lead to him being the Coach to the song Dive by Lost Frequencies and Tom Gregory

A bit of a charmer, a little bit of a skirt chaser, but often gets easily flustered if people flirt back. He was mainly raised in Briarwood with his sister, but they did go see Jack on weekends. Less impulsive or brash than his sister, Stryfe manages to live up to his name by being an over thinker and his overthinking causing a lot of problems in general. However he’s also a good source of advice. He just never follows any advice he personally gives out. Respects his sister’s choices to live in Eternyx, but recognizes while he loves music…he has no sense of rhythm. It is something he’s embarrassed about. He’s only managed to dance well once. Is trying to make peace with it, all things considered. He is however a very proficient sorcerer. Not interested in universe domination, just interested in making things a little more fun or interesting or easy for those he loves. Is really close to his mystic grandparents, perhaps a bit more than his mystic father. He and Wren are observed closely but neither of them are showing any signs of villainy. To Jack and Nick’s deep relief. Not associated with a color.

Wren Russell

Age 22. She is the current Red Ranger of Team Spectronizer and Solo Coach of the song Armor by Iniko

While she was raised in the Enchanted Realm with Nick and her Mystic grandparents she is a dance instructor in Eternyx. She uses mystic magic in tandem with flow, and calls herself the groove witch. She’s very job oriented, whether that means dance instructor or ranger, and often has to be reminded by brother or parents to slow down, to breathe, to just be for a bit. She’s intense, with better social skills than either parent. She’s not exactly friendly but she’s not prickly either. Comfortable in her own skin and at peace with her strange heritage. Growing up she was apprenticed to Xander, and had secondary teachings by Rita Repulsa over the matter of her dark sorceress grandmother. If anyone could handle any darkness popping up in the girl, it’d be Rita. She has a penchant for feathers, and is as intense about perfectionism as Leda was before she met Traveler, but that is all.

She has a girlfriend, the current Yellow Wynona. Wynona grounds Wren like nobody else. While she loves her brother and he’s a great source of advice, Wynona is the rock Wren can settle on when things get rough. They compliment each other well.

[freewayshark]

The first time Buck went down to the rodeo, he had to be bribed into it.

Eddie wanted to go, and didn’t want to go alone, so a six pack of the beer he loves that you can only get at a brewery all the way across town later, and his ass was burning on metal bleachers, still hot from the summer sun even after dark.

And he was kind of bored as fuck.

It was a little exciting at first, each eight or so second increment when a new guy would come busting out on a bucking bull grabbing his interest, but it became repetitive quickly, until he was mostly just entertained with stuffing nachos in his mouth.

Until Eddie elbowed him, excited. “Hey, watch this next guy. He’s something else.”

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the ride you have all been waiting for! Our reigning champ, Tommy Kinard!”

Buck looked over where the cowboy—Tommy—was straddling the bull pen. The bull trapped and waiting for Tommy to mount it looked somehow meaner than all the other bulls that night, like it was fantasizing about pulverizing Tommy beneath its massive hooves.

Tommy waved at the crowd, and then, despite the distance between them, Buck would swear they made eye contact just as Tommy tucked two fingers on the brim of his cowboy hat and tipped it.

And then Tommy positioned himself on the bull’s back, the bull thrashing even in the tight embrace of the bars. Buck watched with fascination as the grin on Tommy’s face slid into something more focused, his entire body loosening. He gave a sharp nod and the fate swung free, bull and man bursting as one into the arena.

And Eddie had been right. Tommy Kinard was something else.

Eight seconds felt like eight minutes watching Tommy ride. From the bull’s first buck, there were not two creatures out on that packed down dirt but one, each jerk and buck of the bull answered with Tommy’s own body, each sway and twist performed so smoothly it’s like he knew the moves were coming before the bull did.

Then it was over, and Buck let out his breath in a whoosh, unaware he’d even been holding it.

Tommy had scrambled up the arena wall after his dismount, and that time when they locked eyes, there was no mistaking it.

And neither was there any mistaking the wink Tommy threw his way.

Rodeo star Tommy and buckle bunny Buck

[setmeatopthepyre]

fuck it friday

tagged by @trombonechurchill and @ambernotember <3 have some antarct-fic! I shared an earlier version of the first part of this scene before (for the wip titles game), but here's an improved and extended version.

-

“He dated Abby,” Tommy admits with a groan.

Lucy stares at him. “Who?”

Tommy frowns. “Abby.”

“Yeah, Tommy, contrary to popular belief, you’re not exactly an open book," she deadpans. "Abby who?”

“Abby Clark,” he says. “My fiancée.”

“Your what? What the fuck?”

“Ex-fiancée,” he clarifies, not really able to hold back his glare in response to her surprise.

“I reiterate: what the fuck.” She folds her arms. “Explain.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was engaged. To Abby.”

“Yeah, you big lug, I got that part. Context. Explain.”

Tommy lets out a long exhale, turning his glass back and forth on the table, noting vaguely how the stem of the glass looks way too dainty in his big, coarse hands. He lets go, suddenly afraid of accidentally snapping the thing in two, and settles his hands in his lap.

“We were engaged for two years before I broke it off.”

He's expecting a quip, or an eye roll, but that's not what he gets and maybe that's not fair, either. He knows Lucy better than that. Knows she doesn't lie about what she thinks and that she's serious when she has to be. And she's serious, now. Her eyebrows drawn towards each other in a frown, head tilted slightly, dark eyes studying him over her own drink, waiting for him to continue.

So he does.

“When I say broke it off, I mean I told her I was gay and then I dumped her. Not necessarily in that order.” His throat feels rough, suddenly, so he downs the rest of his drink – avoiding the far-too-dainty stem – and sets the glass back down with a clink. “Then Abby, apparently, rebounded with...” he waves his hand.

“Buck?” Lucy hazards a guess.

Tommy nods. “He's the himbo,” he huffs, and Lucy mutters something that sounds suspiciously like and he's not the only one, but she doesn't repeat herself when he narrows his eyes at her and he... appreciates that. Lucy looks out for him.

“You look out for me,” he tells her.

“You're drunk.”

Lucy says it as if it's a counter argument. Normally he'd take some time to point out to her that it isn't, except that he can't forget they were talking about Evan, and wallowing over Evan takes precedence. Especially when Tommy's... Fine. Yes. Tommy's a little drunk.

“Hmm-hm.” He hums, twirls the stirrer around in his glass. Stupid, dainty glass. “He said their relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's eyebrows tick upwards. “Okay?”

“And then he said our relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's face does something complicated. It's subtle, because Lucy isn't usually particularly expressive, but Tommy knows Lucy and he knows she's trying really, really hard to school her features into something supportive and appropriately concerned. It's nice, that she cares enough to do that. Lucy is so nice to him. He should be nicer to her.

“So,” Lucy says, her voice doing something he thinks might be trying for polite curiosity. “How, uh. How does that make you feel?”

He snorts. “Jesus, Donato, you're bad at this.”

-

no pressure tags for @sugarpenchant @geddyqueer @beanarie @agentpeggycartering @screamlet @rcmclachlan @peppermintquartz

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

For this

PLEASE WRITE IT OMG 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Body Art | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Soooo I definitely had a sex dream about pierced and tattooed Seb the other night because of the trailer for Pam & Tommy, and @noorreads asked for me to share! So this is my attempt at making it into something readable and not a crazy, hard to follow dream. Also, changed it from Seb to Bucky because...obviously.

As always, send me any comments, requests, or suggestions you have! 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @everything-burns-down @shadytalementality @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow@emetophilily 💘💘💘

Warnings: Oral (F receiving), PIV sex

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

“Room 712, dollface”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you got out of your car in the motel parking lot and made your way toward the front door. Bucky was finally back in town after being on the run for months, and when he’d asked you to meet him at this motel on the edge of town, you couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Last time he rolled through town to see you, his hair was a little shaggy and his skin had been adorned with a few tattoos: A tribute piece to the Howling Commandos on his chest, "Brooklyn" across his ribcage, and 107 on his right bicep. He said he was trying to reclaim his own body, since he felt it hadn't really belonged to him under Hydra.

When you reached room 712 and he opened the door, a small gasp escaped your lips. His entire right arm was covered in ink, as was his shirtless torso. He whisked you into the room and kissed you deeply, but you pulled away to admire his new body art. Your hands ran over the images that decorated his skin: Steve's original shield from the 40's, various knives and daggers, Nat's Black Widow insignia, a red star, wings for Sam, the list of Winter Soldier trigger words, and "Ingcuka emhlophe" were the ones that caught your eye. He stared down at you and noticed your gaze linger on the isiXhosa words.

"It means White Wolf..." he murmured, placing a hand on the side of your face and stroking your cheek. His blue eyes were darker than usual, full of lust- but he waited patiently for you to take in his new form. Your eyes wandered his body, admiring each new addition, when you caught a glint of silver.

"Wow, nipple piercings, Buck? Didn't see that one coming" you teased.

"Yeahhh," he said with a laugh "the woman who did my tribute to Nat convinced me- convinced me of this, too". With that, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, showing off a shiny silver ball that had been plunged through the muscle.

"Holy shit, you're really not messing' around."

He cracked his tattooed knuckles and shrugged, feeling slightly self conscious. "Do you, uh, do you like it?" he said, gesturing to his newly graffitied body.

Without a word, you launched yourself forward and attached your lips to his, swallowing his gasp. His pierced tongue pushed its way into your mouth and you hummed at the metallic taste of his new decoration. One last time, you pulled away, looking him dead in the eye.

"I love it, Buck. You look fucking hot" you whispered before attacking his mouth with yours again. He lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the closed motel room door. Without hesitation your hands found his long, dark hair and tugged at it, making him moan into your mouth.

"And the hair is..." you whispered, giving it another tug, "perfect".

You could already feel his cock hardening and it made arousal leak from your cunt.

"I fucking missed you," he murmured against your skin.

"Hmm, you fucking missed me? or you missed fucking me?" you retorted with a devilish grin.

"Both" he whispered, pushing his hard cock against you even more.

Suddenly, he carried you to the bed and made quick work of your shirt, throwing your bra across the room.

"Fucking gorgeous" he muttered, his eyes taking you in for the first time in months. You watched as he admired every facet of your body, his eyes lingering on your ribcage.

"What's this...?" he asked, leaning down to get a better look at the small tattoo that adorned your skin. He got closer and his mouth fell open as he realized the significance of the numbers permanently inked on your body- 32557038.

"Is that- you got a tattoo of my service number?"

You nodded sheepishly, afraid that maybe you'd gone too far. But your worries were destroyed when Bucky's strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in for a desperate, hungry kiss.

"I love it", he murmured, pulling away to look you in the eye.

With your confidence restored, you pounced on him, pushing his shoulders into the mattress and straddling his lap, making his hands instinctively grab your waist. You let your hands run over all his knew ink before pressing your lips to each tattoo, showing him just how much you loved his new look. You observed the skulls, a tribute to his sister Rebecca, a Hydra missing its head, and the words "memento mori". He was hot before, but with the story of his life tattooed across his skin, he was fucking gorgeous.

With an almost feral lust, you attached your lips to his neck and sucked at his skin, feeling his pulse beat wildly under your tongue. As you worked from his jaw down to his clavicle, one of his new tattoos stopped you in your tracks- scrawled perfectly in delicate cursive sat the word "Dollface".

"Is this...for me?"

He nodded, lust-blown pupils staring up at you for a reaction.

"Want everyone to know I'm taken, dollface..."

His words stole the air from your lungs and he took your shock as the perfect opportunity to do what he'd been dreaming of since he left. His arms wrapped around you back as he sat up and flipped you over, positioning you under his body and in his control. His lips latched on to your tattoo for him and showed it the love you'd hoped for. His hands roamed your body and his mouth followed, leaving bite marks and crimson bruises along your bare skin. His metal hand found the button of your jeans and practically ripped it off before pulling your jeans down and leaving them in a heap on the floor.

"Oh, these are some of my favorites," he quipped when he saw the pair of black underwear you'd worn just for the occasion. "It would be a shame if something happened to them..."

The sound of ripping fabric filled the room as Bucky hastily removed your underwear, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

"I missed this..." he murmured as he let one metal finger slowly trace from your entrance to your clit, making you moan softly. He pressed hot kisses to the inside of your things, inching closer and closer to your aching center.

Lightning shot though your body as Bucky pressed his new tongue piercing to your clit, letting the metal ball roll gently over your most sensitive spot. A deep moan left your lips and you grabbed at his long hair, tugging on it with abandon.

"Knew you'd like that..." he whispered as he let his piercing circle your clit again, making the pressure in your abdomen increase with each pass.

"More, dollface?" he teased, and you nodded, managing to whisper a "please" between sharp inhales.

At your begging, Bucky slipped two metallic fingers into your tight, pulsating cunt, causing you to moan the way that only he could make you. His fingers worked slowly at first, teasing you within an inch of your life before increasing their speed to match the tempo of his tongue. He curled his metal fingers into your sweet spot, making your hips Buck at the contact- but his tattooed hand pressed your hips firmly into the mattress, forcing you to stay right where he wanted you.

"Know you're close, dollface. I always know..."

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from screaming and waking the entire motel. His piercing flicked against your clit at the exact moment that he introduced a third finger inside you. The sensation was almost too much, and all it took was one more strong curl of his metal fingers for you to completely fall apart.

Bucky's fingers were unrelenting as your orgasm washed over you, never stopping until you couldn't breathe. You opened your eyes, dizzy from the aftershocks as Bucky let his tongue flick at your clit a few more times before pressing his lips to yours.

"Oh, hey, I have another piercing I wanna show you..." he whispered, standing up and pulling down his pants. "I think you're really gonna like it..."

[missymurphy1985]

The Premiere

The Premiere of Peaky Blinders, Series 6. You've had a secret lust for your co-star for the last 10 years, would this be your last chance to finally get your way with him?

This was a request from @noctvrnalmoth

Taglist - @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @being-worthy @janelongxox

Lights flashing, cameras clicking, paparazzi calling your name left right and centre... God you hated premieres. But you plastered your game face on and gave the what they wanted like the good little actress you were. Series 6 of Peaky Blinders was premiering in Broad Street, Birmingham, appropriate as the series was based in the city - it felt right that that's where the final premiere should be.

You heard the crowd of fans behind you suddenly go wild as a car pulled up to the red carpet and the man himself stepped out of it. Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered the cameras were on you, and you quickly switched your game face back on. You couldn't hide the cheesy grin though, as Cillian Murphy stood smiling for the cameras. He made his way to the group of fans be happily signed a few autographs and took a few selfies with them. Thanking each of them for coming out, he waved and made his way over to you.

"Hey Ada," he smiled in his Brummie accent, knowing it made you laugh when he called you by your character's name.

"Tommy Shelby has arrived I see, did you leave Cillian in the hotel room?" He snaked an arm over your shoulder and you posed for more pictures together. Rumours had abounded for the last ten years of a romance behind the scenes between you, but none of them were true. You were good friends, that was all, no matter how much more you wanted.

"He was cramping my style Ada, can't have that at a premiere can we?" You giggled as he squeezed your shoulder, before reverting back to his Irish accent. "Reckon they've got enough photos, it's fucking brass knuckles out here!" He led you both into the hall where a waiter stood with a tray of champagne glasses. He took two and handed one to you. Clinking your glasses together in a toast.

"Here's to the end," he smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes.

"It's been one hell of a ride though Cill, we've had a blast haven't we?"

"That we have y/n, that we have. Let's go cringe watching ourselves on camera, yeah?"

"Let the clenching begin!" You linked an arm with his and made your way into the auditorium together to the waiting interviewers.

Sitting on a chair each, the two of you glanced at each other and smiled. Both of you hated these promo interviews at premieres but at least you were doing this one together. Answering the questions as professionally as possible, the interviewer suddenly changed the topic to a more, personal, one.

"You must have seen the rumours flying around about the two of you in recent years?"

Cillian shrugged as you tried to hide your blush with a hand, pretending to laugh.

"There will always be rumours like that when co-stars of the opposite sex have chemistry onscreen - we've learned to let it go." Cillian always had an answer for it.

"It's a weird one though, I mean, I play his sister, you'd think the rumours would be about you and Tash, or Annabelle!" You smiled, your eyes meeting Cillian's. Did he just glance down at your cleavage?

"Tumblr has gone WILD about the two of you, fan made stories about you making out in secret onset, sneaking off together? Clear it up for us now - is there any truth to them?" The interviewer probed, hoping for some kind of sexy exclusive. Cillian's famous eyebrow raise quickly followed.

"If there was, we wouldn't admit it would we? The whole point of 'sneaking around' would mean it was a secret, wouldn't it? Be pointless to ruin the illusion now.." he smirked. The interviewer was stunned. So were you - you'd never done anything of the sort.. what was he doing? The papers would go wild with this tomorrow! You hid your face in your hands and snorted. He wasn't having the upper hand in this.

"He wouldn't stand a chance anyway." You smirked.

"Is that so y/n?" He turned to look at you. "These blue eyes didn't make you weak at the knees when we were filming? The strong jawline not having the Tommy Shelby effect?" Those blue eyes were staring you down now, you had no words. Just then the bell rang to signal the end of interviews - the premiere of the new series was about to begin in the auditorium. The interviewer was still slightly agog - what exactly had he just witnessed here?

"That was amazing wasn't it? They did an incredible job editing it all, just brilliant!" You gushed as you and Natasha left the auditorium.

"Not bad at all!! I'm gutted we won't be filming together again though y/n.." she hugged you tight. "And I'm sure Cillian will miss you too." She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh god don't you start, those rumours have been plaguing me for years!! We're just friends Tash!" She nodded, still smirking, and glanced behind you, seeing Cillian making his way over.

"I'll see you at the party, yeah?" She made her way to the casino next door where the after-party was being held.

Two strong hands clipped your waistline making you jump, nearly spilling your champagne.

"Too easy y/n," Cillian chuckled.

"Asshole," you laughed, slapping his arm playfully. He smiled and, arm over your shoulder again, he walked with you to the casino.

"I'm not staying long y/n, so I'll say it now yeah?" He ordered the two of you a drink at the bar and turned to face you. The loud music drowning out most of the noise. You couldn't hear him very well.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not staying long y/n! I need to tell you something." Louder now, bending down to talk into your ear. Your drinks arrived and you made your way to a slightly quieter corner.

"Should I be worried Cill?"

"Maybe.." your breath caught again. "See, you know those rumours? The ones about us basically fucking behind the scenes?" Your cheeks burned.

"Oh those? Um.. yeah.. what about them?" He cleared his throat, bending to whisper loudly in your ear.

"Didn't you ever wish they were true?" You pulled back. The fuck did he just say?

"What?!" You nearly dropped your drink from the sudden movement.

"Just once, didn't you ever just wonder what could've happened?" His blue eyes so dark, looking right into yours.

"Listen, I'm not asking for a relationship, god knows neither of us need that right now, but this is the last time I'm gonna get this opportunity before we part ways for good. Meet me on floor 7 in 15 minutes. Room 712. If you don't come, I'll know the answer. If you do... Well..." He squeezed your hip, downed his drink and walked away. You stood in shock for a minute, collecting your thoughts. Okay, so he was right about one thing - neither of you were interested in a relationship. This would be a one time thing, no strings attached, which suited you down to the ground.. yes you found him impossibly attractive, but you both just came out of very high profile serious relationships... Maybe a quick fling wasn't such a bad idea? Get it out your systems, move on... You downed your own drink and left the party. What room was it again....

Room 712. The door was slightly ajar. You checked your watch - 18 minutes. You knew he was a stickler for timekeeping but you couldn't resist being a little late. Without knocking, you pushed the door open to find an empty room. Shit... Being late wasn't such a good idea now... Quickly scanning the room, you saw the ensuite door emitting steam from it. He's in the shower... This could work... Opening the door you saw his outline through the shower door, rinsing his hair under the hot water. You quickly slipped your dress to the floor, along with your underwear, and slowly eased yourself into the shower with him, quietly. You snaked your hands over his firm waist and he jumped, turning to face you, wiping water and soap out of his eyes.

"Too easy, Cill." He composed himself and smiled.

"So you did come then?"

"Well, not yet, but I'm hoping you could help with that?" You smirked, and looked down to see his erection already forming.

"Wanna let me get out first?"

"Nope, no need. There's plenty of room in here..." You sank to your knees and took him into your mouth.

"Ah... Fuck me..." He gasped as you sucked him to full erection.

"Now now, Mr Murphy, we'll get to that part soon enough..." Taking him back in, your tongue swirling around the tip, teeth gently scraping the underside of his cock. Sinking his head down, and backing into the shower wall, allowing the water to cascade over your back, he watched as you expertly sucked him, groaning into his shaft and cupping his balls lightly, giving them a sharp tug now and again. He couldn't take much more and lifted you to your feet.

"I'm not finishing in your mouth y/n.. I have a much better destination for it..." He knew you were on birth control, you'd spoken about it before when you were both going through yours respective breakups. Both of you also getting your checks done after your partners had cheated on you. All clean and ready to go.

Moving you against the wall of the shower, he angled the water away slightly, pressing his lips to yours. Snaking a hand down between your legs he was impressed to find you already wet for him. Smiling against your lips, he slowly inserted a finger deep inside, causing your hips to buck against him.

"Yes... Cillian yes..." Pushing a second finger in, he tipped them up and towards him slightly, catching hold of that sweet spot inside. You jumped again.

"Too easy y/n..." You couldn't help your hips rocking against his fingers, groaning deeply as he fucked you with them, picking up the pace. Your orgasm built quickly and he felt your walls clenching, but he quickly removed them and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, he pushed his hard length into you. Your mouth opened wide with a loud groan as it hit that magical spot on the first thrust, and you screamed his name as your orgasm finally hit, Cillian pounding into you as you called his name. You just prayed the room next door was empty...

He tangled his hands into your hair as he continued thrusting up into you, your nails were clawing his shoulders as you moaned loudly - a second release quickly building.

"Need to move, my legs are killing me!" He groaned into your neck, and begrudgingly lifted you off him, keeping your legs round his waist as he turned the shower off and carried you into the main room. Sitting in the chair, he sat you back on his lap, a leg either side of him

"Want me to ride you Cill?" He nodded as you ground your hips against him, not taking him inside you just yet. If this was the only chance you had to do this, you were making it last as long as possible.

"Fuck.. don't tease me y/n..."

"Want me to ride that big cock of yours Cillian? Bounce up and down, back and forth, round and round.." your hips mimicking your words making him gasp. Your mouth teasing his now, tongue tracing his lips. He kept moving to kiss you fully but you kept pulling back.

"Jesus y/n..." You sank down onto him, taking him inside you. Riding him hard, your second orgasm burning inside desperate for release. He pushed you back slightly and moved your fingers down to your own clit. "Rub it... Wanna watch you..." You happily complied, head thrown back in pure ecstacy as you rode both him and your fingers to your orgasm. Shuddering with the release, feeling your juices coat him, he picked you up again and lay you down on the double bed, relentlessly pounding into you now while you clutched at his back, nails surely drawing blood now. He was like a man possessed, harder than he'd ever been before.

"That's it... That's it... Fuck... Cillian!" You were screaming his name as he grunted against your neck.

"Gonna cum y/n... Fuck..." With a loud groan followed by your name he came hard, filling you completely as a third orgasm took you along with him. Pulling out slowly, catching his breath, he remained on top of you.

"My shoulders are fucking shredded y/n..." He laughed, feeling the sting from where your nails had scratched him.

"Sorry... You were just too good..." You breathed, still coming down from your high. He rolled onto his back and pulled you into his arms. You lay there silently for a while, playing with his chest hair.

"That was worth the wait.." he smiled and kissed the top of your head. All you could do was nod, words suddenly becoming impossible. You'd never been fucked that good before in your life.

"Let's make a deal," he tilted your face up to look at him, gently leaning down to kiss your lips. "If we work together again in the future, and we're both single, we do this again. What do you say?" You smiled. You were worried for a second he was going to profess his undying love for you - definitely not what you wanted from this.

"Deal. Hey, there might be a role for me in the movie yet," you winked, biting your lip. He smirked down at you and rested his head back on the pillow.

"Can't wait." You sat up to get ready to leave, you both knew you couldn't stay. One of you had to go back to the party so as not to arouse too much suspicion.

"This was fun, right? And we're okay?"

"Yes, and yes. All good. Stay in touch? No matter what?" He watched you get dressed and fix your hair, reapplying your lipstick.

"Definitely." You leaned over him to steal a final kiss, and headed out the door smiling, both of you silently praying Ada had a place in the movie, and vowing to remain single for the foreseeable future.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Lavender Lace (Part 2)

Pairing: Tom Holland x F!Reader

Summary: When Tom calls you mean, you decide to show him what mean really looks like. (Part 2 to Lavender Lace) 

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (Edging, Ruined Orgasm, Dom!Reader, Sub!Tom, Oral - m and f receiving, smidge of somnophilia, smidge of exhibitionism), Cursing, Honestly, the dom! is pretty soft 

Word Count: 4400

Requested by @hollandlover19​ 

_______________________

It was a rare occasion that you and Tom both had the same day off but when such an occasion arose, the two of you made sure to take full advantage of it. And, oh boy, were you two making today a special occasion. 

You’d woken up before Tom on this particular morning to find the sunlight already streaming in through the thin curtains and your beautiful boyfriend lying beside you looking as if he was sculpted from fucking marble. His brown curls were barely curls in the morning, more just a messy pile of once twisted tendrils that now just stuck up all unruly against the pillow. His eyes were still shut, his bare chest falling and rising with each heavy breath. The blankets covered most of his torso but the covers didn’t do much to hide the unintentional issue that all men had to deal with from time to time. 

A smirk spread across your face as you looked down at the tent beneath the sheets and then back at your boyfriend still deep asleep when an idea occurred to you. You shifted up onto your elbow and shifted a little closer to him, before kissing his bare chest, marking each freckle with your lips as you made your way up his neck and then eventually along his jawline. 

Tom shifted slightly when your finger lightly traced their way down his abs that weren’t as defined as they were when he was actively filming but you didn’t care. This man could never stop being handsome in your eyes. Your fingers reached the hem of his boxers, already straining with the pressure of his morning wood. With featherlight touches, you traced the length of his erection with your finger tips, over the head, and then back down along the underside of his shaft. 

The quietest little moan fell from his lips and you looked back up at him, biting your lip and determined to hear more of that sweet sound. You brought your hand back up to your mouth and spit into your palm before snaking it back down under the covers and beneath the elastic of the waistband. Your hand moved smoothly along his length and while you did so, your lips returned to his body. Tom's chest shook when his breathing hitched, clearly getting flustered, even in his sleep. 

You increased the pressure ever so slightly on his length, twisting your wrist around the head, when you kiss his jaw line. Another small breathy moan tumbles from his perfect lips and press yours against his gently, swallowing the sound. When you pulled away, kissing back down his neck, you heard a hoarse chuckle, “G’morning, love.” 

You smiled against his smooth neck, breathing him in. “Good morning, Tommy.” 

“Starting the day off well, I see?” He asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but finding it difficult to keep them open through the pleasure. He sighs out in bliss when you focus more attention on the head. 

A chuckle leaves your lips when you go to kiss him yet again. “Thought you could use some TLC on your day off.” You sped up your pace and you could tell by the groans he was making that he was getting close already, “Is this okay?” 

“Oh, it’s more than okay, darling.” He grunted out with a smile, “‘M already so close.” 

“Yeah? Tell me when…” You cooed into his ear, biting the soft flesh. 

The pace you had set on his length was not fast but the pressure was enough to make him fall apart quickly. Partners were like bombs, you realized, and much of a relationship was learning what made them tick and what made them blow. Tom had a few triggers for each that you had every intention of taking full advantage of today, should he be willing to play along with your little game. 

He twitched in your hand and his fingers knotted themselves into the pillow beside his head. “Shit… I’m gonna-” 

Then your hand was gone. Tom groaned, his hips bucking up into sheets, chasing your touch. “Fucking hell!” He whined, head falling back harshly into the pillow, “You’re not usually this mean first thing in the morning.”

A single testing eyebrow raised when you leaned back, “‘Mean?’ Tread lightly, love. I had an idea for today, if you’re up for it, but I could always make it more torturous if you’re going to keep that tone.” 

The dominance in your voice was clear to Tom and gosh was it turning him on. “Heard we had a day off together and already had something planned?” He teased you, moving to sit up a little higher on the pillows. You crawled over his body until you were straddling his hips, his hard cock rubbing against your thin flannel pajama bottoms. He hissed when your hips rolled teasingly, one of his hands gripping your hip to keep you from moving - he was still trying to calm down - and the other bending to cradle his own head. You put your hands on the bed on either side of his body, trapping him in a trap he had no yearning to escape. “What did you have in mind, love?” 

You chewed your lip and looked up at him through long lashes, giving him a sultry dark look, “Ohhh, well I was thinking trying to beat your record and edge you fifteen times but since you were calling me names earlier, I think I’ll make it twenty.” 

“What?! I barely made it to ten last time!” Tom’s eyes were wide with panic but he quickly remembered his place when you gave him a sharp look. 

“What was that? Twenty-five for talking back?” You asked, almost in the tone a teacher would chide a student with. 

Tom’s whole body tensed up and he moved to embrace you in a panicked show of affection to remedy his misstep, “No! I’m sorry! Twenty is fine. I’ll make it to twenty!” 

You allowed him to pull your body down towards his just enough so your chest rested against his but you still looked up so you were eye to eye with the man, “That’s what I thought. Now don’t worry, I’m not totally… What did you call me? Mean? I won’t make you do all twenty at once. I’ll stretch them throughout the day. But a few rules: One, no touching yourself unless I say you can. Two, you must touch yourself when I tell you to. Three, no cumming before I say you can. Failure to follow these rules will result in punishment. Understand?” 

“Yes.” His voice was nearly a whimper. The way you made this boy fall apart should have made him embarrassed but he would trade all his pride if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. The man was utterly in love with you and you were incandescently in love with him as well. 

You gave him a satisfied smile, “Good. That’s one down.” You rolled out of bed and stretched as if you hadn’t just promised him a day of sexual torture, “What do you want for breakfast? I’m starving.” 

**

Tom knew from the start he was going to have a hard time with this but he was hoping spreading out the twenty edges over the day would make it bearable. How wrong he was. You either allowed him to touch himself or touched him yourself about every half hour, just to make sure he stayed achingly hard, just the way you wanted him. It was in those gaps, though, that he’d hoped to find solace, only for you to “accidentally” bump into his member with your perfect ass, which was barely concealed in the short lounge shorts you’d decided to hang around the house in today. 

The first few times were easy. Obviously, the first edge was when you had woken him up with your hand pumping him almost to completion. The second was when you let him jerk himself off in the shower just after breakfast while you ran your hands over every inch of his body. You gave him a handjob when the pair of you were fresh out of the shower before he even had a chance to put his joggers on. The next seven were a combination of you touching him and you allowing him to touch himself over the next few hours. 

On the eleventh, you had decided to up the ante and have a little more fun with it. He sat on the couch, playing Call of Duty with Harry, Sam, and Haz all on the same server, speaking to him through his headset. Video games were Tom’s desperate attempt at distracting himself from the painful ache in his trousers but you weren’t going to let him get off that easy (no pun intended). 

When you came into the living room, standing just to the side of the television so he could still see the game but also see you, his eyes flicked back and forth between you and the screen, trying to ensure you knew he was acknowledging you while also not losing his lead on his brothers. His face fell when you didn’t say anything, only had that look in your eye again. With pleading eyes, he gestured to the controller in his hand. 

“Keep playing. Don’t mind me.” You whispered, waving towards the controller in his head nonchalantly. Tom gave you a skeptical look, knowing you were up to something but he resumed the game as you said he could. 

Staying in your same spot, just beside the television, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up and over your head, revealing your bare breasts. Tom’s mouth fell open, having a hard time concentrating on the shouts and gunfire coming from the game when a literal goddess was stripping for him in his living room. “Keep playing. Don’t want to leave your brothers hanging.” You urged, nodding towards the TV. 

Hesitantly, Tom returned to the game, not nearly as invested in the stats on the screen as he was a few moments ago. He watched out of the corner of his eye as your shorts and panties slid down your legs in one motion, leaving you completely bare before him. You padded towards him, putting your knees on the couch to either side of his hips, straddling him. 

Tom leaned back and gave you a look of panic when you reached down to gently pull his hard length from his joggers. His hands pulled back, the game forgotten but you released him, his hard length practically sticking straight up against his stomach. You reached for his hands and laced them behind your back, leaning forward so you were mostly positioned against his chest. Tom could still see the screen over your shoulder, both hands resting on the controller but he was no longer aggressively slamming the buttons. 

When your hands returned to guide his cock to your soaked entrance, his eyes blew wide and he pointed to the headset with pleading eyes. Your mouth fell open as you sank down on his length, a choked sound falling from Tom’s lips at the sudden warmth. This was the first time he’d been inside you all day and he was already so sensitive that it drove him crazy. 

After you had a moment to compose yourself, you pulled aside one of the ear pads and allowed your lips to brush his ear, “Better not let them hear you, Tommy. Imagine what they’d say if they found out you liked this… being brought to the brink of tears, being absolutely ruined.” 

Tom’s mouth fell open when you began to move agonizingly slow up and down on him, your walls squeezing around his length every time you moved up. Tom was usually a fairly vocal guy in bed, almost always making a sound, whether it be begging you, praising you, telling you how much he loved you, or just little moans and groans. This was torture for him and you knew it. 

You swivelled your hips, having to bite back your own moan when you managed to hit that spot deep inside you that made you see stars. Having finally found that spot within yourself, you made sure to keep repeating that same motion until your toes were curling. Your breasts rubbed deliciously against Tom’s chest and you found your own high approaching rapidly. 

You pulled one of Tom’s ear pads aside again and breathed out, “I’m gonna cum, Tommy.” It wasn’t a whine of desperation, it was a declaration of power. A statement of what you were able to do and he wasn’t. 

The muscles in his neck flexed as he swallowed hard, finding himself close as well. He had been so hard this entire time, he was surprised he had managed to go this long without nearing that edge but it was catching up to him rapidly. After only a few more bounces on him, you unravelled around him, clutching onto his shoulders tightly. 

You pulsed around him, riding out your high with a silent scream, hating that you were also punishing yourself with having to stay silent to keep the boys from knowing what you were doing as well. Tom let out a strangled groan when he felt himself about to fall over that edge. He let go of the controller and tapped your ass repeatedly, trying to pry you off of him so he wouldn’t cum without your permission. Broken sounds fell from his lips so quiet you could barely hear it but you raised your brow, clamping your hand over his mouth so he would stay quiet. Finally, you slowed to a stop, telling by the intensity with which he tried to pull you off of his length that was going to fall over that edge if you continued. 

“‘Ey, Tom? You good mate?” You could hear Haz’s voice ask with a chuckle through the headset, followed by a few exclamations of frustration as you assumed he was shot in the game. 

Slowly, you removed your hand from Tom’s mouth and allowed him to answer, “Yeah, erm, yeah. I’m good.” His first attempt at speaking had come out almost more as the squeak of a thirteen year old boy but he cleared his throat and was able to sound more convincing. 

** 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you...” 

“F-fourteen! I said fourteen.” Tom gritted out, body covered in sweat as his back arched off the bed. 

You sat off to one side of him but leaned over his legs, your free hand running up and down his thighs that were tensing beneath your touch. “Only six more, Tommy. You’re doing so good.” 

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna make it to twenty.” He was nearly in tears, cock moving on its own free will at this point, flexing against his abs. 

You cooed, “Ohhh but you’re gonna have to.” Tom’s biceps flexed as he pulled against the handcuffs you had him restrained to the headboard with. “I’ll make them quick,” You reassured with a smile, a smile that Tom found anything but reassuring. 

You leaned down and took him into your mouth, humming with satisfaction at the cry he let out, only making him struggle more. You hollowed your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his head, tasting the sweet yet salty precum that had beaded up there. 

“Ah, shit-” Tom struggled, biting into the back of the fleshy bit of his hand to try and ground himself. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He had warned you this morning that twenty was most likely an impossible goal but you just wouldn’t listen. Tom found himself desperately on the edge within less than a minute of you touching him. Maybe if he just didn’t say anything, you would keep going until he came. He could deal with whatever punishment you had in store but he just needed a release. 

You watched from beneath hooded lashes at the way his eyes were screwed shut and felt the way his hips bucked up involuntarily, pushing him down your throat. His cock twitched in your mouth, the way it always did just before he-

“You naughty thing! You were going to cum weren’t you?” You sat up off of him as soon as you noticed that tell-tale sign of his. 

Tom let out a literal sob and you noticed the tears falling from the corners of his eyes. “‘M sorry! I just need to cum so bad! Please!” 

The tears that fell down his face did actually make you feel a little guilty but you had to remind yourself that if it really was too much for him, he knew the safe word that would make the whole act go away. Knowing yourself, if he tapped out because it got to be too much, you’d let him cum right now. Both of you knew this was really just for the fun of exploring yourselves and each other and the last thing either of you wanted was for either one of you to not be enjoying what was going on. And yet, Tom still had yet to actually say the safe word. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little soft on him though.

You leaned up and kissed his lips softly, fingers brushing through his messy locks, “Oh, darling, I know. There’s only five more.” Tom groaned as if five were a hundred. Suddenly, your fingers knotted in his hair just tight enough to get his attention and, just like that, your soft tone was gone and your dangerous glare was back, “But if you ever try to pull one over me like that again, I’ll make sure you won’t cum for much, much longer than I did today.” 

Tom didn’t need to respond. It was written all over his face that the message had been received loud and clear. You crawled your way back down his body and began pumping his shaft again, swiping your thumb over his head to spread the liquid there along his length. You shifted yet again, moving to the position where you could roll his balls in your other hand. 

“You better tell me this time.” You threatened, already seeing the signs. Besides, Tom had been so close for so long, he was at the point where any touch practically brought him to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum!” 

You kept working him until his legs were squirming beneath you, only stopping when you saw he was within a second from falling over the edge. “Sixteen. Awe, you barely let me touch you that time.” 

“‘M so close,” His head shook side to side, “So fuckin’ close.” With one finger, you drew small feather-light lines up and down the underside of his shaft and he was bucking his hips away from you. “No, no, no! Wait!” He begged you to stop, not calmed down enough to be able to withstand another round yet. If you kept touching him, he would surely bust in a second. 

Giving him a bit of mercy, you stopped touching his length but switched to rolling his balls in your hand, stimulating him just enough without making him cum. Your own fingers trailed down between your folds and you spread the slick that had accumulated there over your hand, “See what you do to me, Tommy? You make me so so wet.” 

Using your wetness as lube, you began stroking his shaft again without much warning. Tom was bucking into your hand without realizing it but you shifted your weight to sit on top of his thighs, removing his leverage to continue. “Nuh-uh,” you chided, “You made sure I couldn’t trust you earlier.” 

Tom pulled hard against the handcuffs, his muscles flexing as if he was a Greek god. Your free hand went back between your legs and you rubbed yourself in slow, small circles to warm yourself up for when you’d allow yourself to cum with him as well. The tears in Tom’s eyes had since dried but his eyes were shut tight and his teeth were grit together. “I’m gonna-” 

“Hold it.” You demanded, increasing the pressure slightly. 

Tom shook his head, “I can’t! Shit- Fuck!” He cried as he finally came hard. A massive wave of pleasure like he’d never felt washed over him but it was quickly ruined when your hand stopped stroking him the moment you noticed him cumming. 

By the time the first ribbon of white came to paint his abs, you removed your hand and watched as he tried desperately to get some sort of friction to work him through his ruined orgasm. He was crying again, an entire day’s worth of edging now ruined in an agonizingly unsatisfying orgasm. That first glimpse was an Earth-shattering orgasm that was lost as soon as your hand stopped stimulating him. 

You watched with an amazement you’d only allow to show on your face when his eyes were shut as he just kept cumming and cumming. It was clear by the way his cock twitched that it was aching for more stimulation but you refused to give it to him. 

“Tommy,” your voice was soft but it was laced with disappointment, “I told you you’d be punished if you couldn’t follow directions.” 

“I’m sorry! I just couldn’t get the words out in time.” His chest was heaving and his voice was still whiny.

You nodded sympathetically, “I know, I know. But rules are rules, love. Maybe next time you can cum for real when you can follow instructions.” You crawled over him and clicked the release trigger on the handcuffs, slipping them off his wrists and kissing the angry red lines on them from where he’d been pulling on them. He brought his arms down, blood rushing back into the appendages.

“Now, you get to watch me get off and I don’t care if you get hard again. There’s no touching for the rest of the night.” You rolled off of him to lie on the bed beside him, your legs spreading wide and you hooked the left one over his leg. Your fingers swiped across your bundle of nerves and you clenched around nothing as you set the pace that would get you there quickly. 

Tom sat up a little straighter, eyes glued to where your hand disappeared between your legs, “Can I touch you?” He asked, looking back over to your eyes. 

“Why should I let you?” 

“To show you just how sorry I am.” His hand came to rub your thigh in a testing show of affection. Your eyes glanced down to where his hand met your skin and then back up with a quirked brow to show him that you saw straight through his coy attempts. Just because you noticed them didn’t mean you were objected to them though and after an entire day of dripping over Tom, you thought it was only fair if you got a little something in return. 

“Alright, fine. Since you asked so nicely.” Your dominating persona cracked a little when you laughed at the way he nearly pounced on you, lips aching to touch every square inch of your perfect body. First, he started at your lips, attacking them until they were plump and swollen. He worked his way down your neck and then your body, knowing every spot, every button to push just like you knew his. 

By the time his mouth reached your core, your heart was already racing with arousal. His hot breath fanned over you as he took a moment to admire you, “You’re so fucking beautiful, even when you’re being mean.” He looked up from between your thighs with a cheeky grin and you reached down to playfully smack the side of his head. 

“Somebody just can’t learn their lesson,” You chuckled, having dropped the dominant act. It was hard to keep up when Tom snapped out of his submissive one and turned into your cute puppy dog of a boyfriend. 

The shit eating grin on his face disappeared a little lower once again and his tongue ran a long stripe up your folds. You moaned out, toying with your nipples, “Oh God….” Tom smirked against your sex, licking you again, only this time, letting the tip of his tongue slip inside of you just enough to tease. His arms wrapped around thighs when they moved against your will and he held them down. Finally, his tongue flicked at that sensitive bud you needed him to touch so badly and you let out a shaky breath when he finally found it. 

“Shit,” You let out a breathless chuckle, hands threading in his hair and tugging slightly when his lips around you completely, sucking harshly on your clit. “Holy fuck!” Tom continued to do that while gently slipping a single finger inside your entrance, pumping slowly at first to warm you up. With how insanely wet you’d been all day, though, it was a warm up that was unneeded. A second finger soon joined it and he curled them up just right to hit that spot inside you that made you see sparks. 

“Oh my gosh, Tom. Right there!” You whined out, one hand pulling your nipple with one hand and his hair with the other. With the arm he had wrapped around your thigh, he pressed his palm flat against the skin just above your pubic bone, making the pressure against your g-spot that much more intense. 

“I’m gonna cum!” You moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch Tom work you to your orgasm. That band in your stomach snapped and you fell back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure as Tom slowed down until you finished squeezing around his fingers. 

Tom pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your core gently, still feeling the pulsing, radiating heat coming from it. “Are you okay?” He asked, chuckling a little at your absolutely fucked out expression. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” You questioned, never having had him try pressing on you from the outside while fingering you while eating you out. It was explosive. 

Tom’s cheeks were still red from earlier as he looked at you with a cautiously proud expression, “Haz had told me about it.” 

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Of course, he did.” 

Tom crawled back up to kiss you on the lips, “Am I forgiven?” 

You feigned a look of deep thought before sighing in “defeat”, which really just fade into a giggly kiss, “I guess so.” 

[mxpseudonym]

Just The Guy From The Club

Alt title: Peaky Blinders but you’re buzzed and making out in the bathroom of a party

Pairing: Tommy x OC (or she/her pronouns Reader)

Summary: Tommy’s supposed to be a posh, untouchable GQ cover man, and yet he’s exhibiting real slut (affectionate) behavior in the bathroom of a club with a stranger

Length: 1160 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Handjobs, Public-ish Indecency, Hook up with a stranger

A/N: Have you ever wanted to make out with Tommy Shelby in a bathroom at House of Yes? Then this is for you. 

--

He was there to find Arthur. He was there to pinpoint his eldest brother, who could be seen stumbling, high on whatever party drug he was hooked on, between hole in the wall clubs on Thursday nights. 

So why, how did he end up in the employees-only bathroom with this woman? 

It was sometime after she had him buy tequila shots at the bar, he knew because he could taste the salt and lime on her tongue as he pressed her against the sink. 

The air was buzzing from the brain-rattling house music thumping outside of the door. It was numbing and loud, but not enough to drown out their panting. His thumbs caressed the material of her high-waisted fishnet shorts that laid under her denim shorts. The soft pink hair was cut bluntly at her soft jawline and brushed against Tommy's own sharp cheekbones. He couldn't help but leave one hand on her waist and let the other one come up to slide into the nape of her neck. Tommy pulled back for a moment, panting and looking down at her with a look of realization, confusion, but ultimately humor. It was a wig. Obviously.

"Who are you?" Tommy asked with a huff of laughter. She looked up at him with dilated pupils and a wicked smirk. 

The black lights strained their eyes, showing off the graffiti on the wall, her glowstick jewelry, and the bold lines she'd made on her eyes with a neon eyeliner. Even with the shadows, the dim lights caught her face just enough for Tommy to read her lips, filling in the words he couldn't hear.

"Just the girl from the club."

It should have been enough to put him off like. Enough for a bachelor like him who had frequented magazine covers and had Instagram accounts dedicated to candids of him since he was notorious for turning down selfies, to come to get his wits about him. But the smokey club floor they'd met on, the loudness, the lighting, it was making him forget to put his guard up. He let her make him dizzy instead.

He picked her up by the backs of her thighs and turned them, placing her on the sink. Tommy's hands found the band of her fishnets and explored the skin of her waist.  He was getting handsy. He was getting a thrill. If Polly found out about this or his brothers, Ada even, 

"Ah!" 

Sharp teeth over his pulse point just under his ear brought him back to reality. His reaction made her laugh, and he took a moment to take in how cute her smile was when her nose wrinkled like that. But only for a moment. There was no time to think about what she might have been like outside of this. He pressed closer and cupped her face.

Their kisses were clumsy, teeth knocking into each other, not minding the casualties while their hands slid under clothes to grab sloppy handfuls of flesh. Tommy's hands cupped her through her bra. It was blue and strappy and glowed through the thin white crop top with a vintage logo he didn't know on the front. He wondered if she dressed like this all the time or if this was a special occasion. She was kissed him like she meant it- like she knew what she was doing. But there was something that still made him wonder...

It was her turn to hiss at the newfound cut on her bottom lip. Tommy leaned down and ran his tongue over the tiny bead of blood before giving a languid kiss. The taste of copper shared between evoked a moan from her. Her fingers laced into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

"You taste good. But you don't usually do this sort of thing," Tommy said.

She hummed against his mouth and stopped any further comments when she moved her hands from his own plain white t-shirt that she'd slid under all too easily to found him semi-hard through his dark jeans. Any upper hand he thought he’d get with his last comment was nonexistent. How she managed to find the tip of him and press the rough material against it in a way that quickly had him hardening was beyond him. His eyes closed as he panted and pushed into her hand. 

"Slut."

His eyes shot open, and he found her smirk once again. Anything he could say would contradict that he'd just bucked into her hand. 

"Wha-"

She kissed him again, using the moment to unbutton his jeans and slid over his briefs. She kissed his cheek when she parted and made her way up to his jaw until her breath was hot in his ear. 

"You taste good too. Like you've never done this, but you've thought about whoring about just like this plenty of times."

Her tongue traced his ear lobe before she caught it between her teeth and made Tommy swear. He'd once had control, hadn't he? Didn't he, at some point, dominate her? No. From when she had him buy her a shot at the bar to dragging him to the second-floor staff lounge, to swirling her thumb over his very sensitive cock, she'd always been in control. 

"You're making a mess, good boy," she teased, feeling the dampness forming on the cloth. 

"Christ,"

"You're gonna cum right here, just from this. Tsk, tsk, such a slut."

His subdued senses made her crass words echo through him and rattle him. Her legs were still around his waist, a hand was fisted in his hair, keeping his lips pressed against hers, and he felt her everywhere at once, consuming him. 

"Fuck," Tommy grunted as his hips bucked and he spilled onto her hand. Tommy leaned his forehead against her shoulder while closing his eyes to keep them from crossing.

Banging at the door kept him from gathering himself entirely. The woman slid against him when hopping from her ledge.

"Just a minute!" She yelled. She turned to him and, again, laughed at his expression. The perplexed look he had from his post-orgasm clarity. 

"I didn't, or you didn't," He stammered while fixing his jeans. Meanwhile, she was using the sink for its intended purpose, washing the evidence of him down the drain. 

Another bang on the door cut off his statement that she must have been unsatisfied and was met with an aggravated shout that they were, in fact, on their way out. The woman wiped wet hands onto her jeans then turned to him, grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to her level for a kiss. 

"I know I didn't. You owe me, Tommy Shelby."

She gave him a wink and unlocked the door. The heavy bass and electronic thumping flooded past the temporary barrier as Tommy watched his mystery woman pass an annoyed bouncer with ease, leaving him to solve the problem and ask himself several questions. 

Had he just...? Yes, he really had. But more importantly:

Did he know her?

[averyhappychainsawhalloween]

Reverence | Part 6

Thomas Hewitt x You | NSFW

Thomas obeyed, stepping into the small bathroom and gently twisting the lock with his large fingers. The doorknob looked like doll furniture in his hands.

He was absolutely covered in blood. His hands were dipped in red up to his elbows and bits of skin and guts were stuck in his hair and drying on his clothes. The scent of gasoline clung to him. 

The shower had warmed up and steam fogged up the mirror distorting your reflection. A warmth unrelated to the shower grew between your legs and you were reminded of exactly where your hands were when the two of you were were interrupted that morning.

His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Was he tired from work or was his breath stolen by want? The idea sent a thrill up your spine. 

“Come here, Tommy,” you said, extending a hand to him. He crossed the room and pulled you into his arms. His lips immediately found yours, the seams of his mask pressing into your cheek. The blood on his arms was fresh and tacky and stuck to your skin. As he moved his hands over your body he trailed blood everywhere. You were already covered in a fair amount of it, but Thomas painted you anew in shades of scarlet. 

If Tommy was eager that morning, he was rabid now. His fingers held you tight enough to bruise and it was only a matter of moments before he lifted your feet off the floor and set you on the counter. He moved with an ease that was both appealing and frightening. Earlier, Thomas had wanted to touch you but had not been sure how to. Now all hesitation seemed to vanish as he shoved his hips between your knees and his tongue into your mouth. 

“One second, Tommy,” you said, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. His onslaught didn’t stop but moved down to your jaw and neck, kissing skin that was less likely to protest. There was no coaxing needed now, Thomas Hewitt had gotten a taste of pleasure and was determined to have more. 

As Thomas kissed the bend of your neck your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. They were slippery with blood but after a few tries you managed to free the top few before he noticed. His hand left your hip and caught your fingers. 

“Don’t you want to join me in the shower, Thomas?” you asked. He paused and then freed your hand to grab the front of your shirt. You let him pull it off over your head and tried to hide the eager shiver that ran through your whole body as his fingers traced over the naked flesh of your shoulders and stomach. Your bra was had been soaked in blood through your shirt earlier in the day and Tommy’s explorations were only adding to it. Blood smeared from his fingertips across the fraying lace and the tops of your breasts. 

You leaned back against the mirror, savoring the feeling of his hands traveling across your chest. Then, much to your surprise, he reached a hand up your back and popped the garment off with practiced ease. 

A shocked noise left your throat. You were about to ask him where he learned that but stopped yourself. How many unsuspecting travelers had been carried down to the basement? How many had Tommy undressed and butchered? Enough to know how to remove a brassiere. 

The idea made you hesitate for the briefest moment and Thomas noticed. He paused looking up to you for permission to continue. Your hands wrapped into his shirt and dragged him to you, your mouths meeting hard enough to bruise. Thomas cupped your breasts in his large, calloused hands and you felt like putty. Perhaps he wasn’t a butcher dissembling bodies but a potter forming them into shape. That or this was exactly how Thomas unraveled people. 

He tasted like iron, or maybe it was all the blood smeared across your face. His fingers tugged at your shorts, ready to be rid of them. You undid the button holding them around your hips and begin to wiggle out of them. Impatiently, Thomas tore them off your legs making quick work of your panties as well.

You should have felt exposed. You should have felt frightened. Instead you were high on hormones and what you wanted more than anything was Thomas- his hands, his lips, everything. 

You couldn’t stand a second longer of teasing and you were determined to find gratification before someone else had to be chopped up downstairs. 

You grabbed Tommy’s right hand and brought it to your lips. You ran your tongue over his first and middle fingers, lapping the blood from them. He made a noise in the back of his throat as you pressed his fingers into your mouth. 

You released his fingers with a wet pop of your lips and guided his hand between your thighs. 

“Touch me,” you said, but you soon realized he didn’t need to be told what to do next. His fingers pressed against you and you immediately lost control. Your hand hung weakly around his wrist and you mumbled praises but Thomas Hewitt was in charge now. One hand wrapped around your waist, the other rubbing against your clit. The slightest word and he’d change pressure, a touch to his wrist and the pattern switched. You were thankful for the counter underneath you because your knees had turned to gelatin. 

It was a delicious burn that took over everything. Moans tore from your throat and you could do nothing to temper them. Each new flush of pressure felt like it might split you into a million pieces. Sweat rolled down your neck as you bucked your hips against his fingers, wanting more and more. 

Your hand left his wrist and moved to his belt buckle. His hand stopped and you had to bite back a whine. 

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered to him and his blue eyes widened. His hands left your skin and you watched as he tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the buckle and undoing his pants. 

His cock was thick, pink, and hard. Tommy’s hand automatically ran over it, pumping his fist over the shaft. His eyes flickered between your face and your cunt as if unsure of the next step. You reached over, replacing his hand with your own. He made a low gasp and his whole body twitched under your touch. You couldn’t suppress the smile that bloomed across your lips. 

A man could be anything: a senator, a beggar, a deacon or a butcher and they’d all react to someone touching their cock the same way. 

Thomas pressed against the counter, his hands braced on either side of your hips as you guided him to your entrance. Your breath hitched when his head bumped against you for the first time. It was then you realized that looking at a big cock was wildly different than actually taking one. 

“Be gentle, Tommy,” you said. He nodded, sweat beading on his forehead, and slowly pressed his hips forward. 

The stretch was delicious. Every moment bordered on too much and you expected searing pain to come but it never did. Only warm filling friction as Thomas slowly pushed himself into you. His arms were trembling around you and it certainly wasn’t from holding himself up. 

“You feel amazing,” you said on an exhale, your body straining around his girth. He made a noise and started to move but your hand grabbed his wrist to pause the movement. “Give me a second.” 

Your closed your eyes, waiting as your body adjusted to his width. You pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist and he groaned, bucking up inside of you. 

You gasped and Thomas froze as if he had hurt you. 

“No, no I liked that,” you said, patting his arm. He gave you a brief moment before he was pulling out to press into you again. A slow rhythm that picked up speed with each thrust. 

You’d slept with people before. Kissed in the darkness of closets at sleepovers and fumbled under the sheets while “studying” at a friend’s house. But this was different. This was something raw and ravage that came from deep inside of you. An instinct you weren’t aware you had. 

Soon you were rolling your hips to meet Tommy’s. The gentle rhythm broken as pleasure mounted. An arm left the counter to wrap around you, holding you close to him as he thrusted into you over and over. He was panting; broken noises rough and low in your ear. Then as your heartbeat began to drown out everything else he brought his lips to your neck and bit down on the tender skin of your throat. 

You came with a scream loud enough to wake the dead and surely loud enough to alert everyone in the house to what you were doing. But you didn’t care. You held onto Thomas as pleasure twitched through your limbs, colors bursting across your vision. 

He came with a groan soon after, his white knuckle hold on your waist finally loosening. 

You sat, naked, on the counter clutching Thomas as you both came down from your peaks. His forehead rested against your shoulder and you collapsed against the mirror, holding him as your senses came back.

The shower was still running, and Thomas was still covered in blood. Your lovemaking had covered you in more blood as well. Fresh crimson smeared against you thighs and your breasts. 

“We need to wash up, Tommy,” you said, tapping on his shoulder. Reluctant to part just yet, he lifted you up from the counter. Your legs tight around his waist and your fingers clutching his arms to keep from falling. 

He pivoted you to the shower nodding his head for you to pull back the shower curtain. 

“You still have your clothes on,” you said. Thomas let out a low sound of annoyance from his throat. Gently he pulled himself out and set you onto your feet. 

You felt very small in that moment, naked and trembling from aftershocks. His cum slid down the inside of your thighs as you watched him pull his shirt off. He turned away to toss it to the pile where your clothes were collecting in the corner and you gasped. 

You knew he was strong but seeing the muscles in his back flex was a religious experience. He looked like a painting on the ceiling of a church. Strong and sturdy and irresistible. 

He didn’t notice your worshipping and continued to undress. His body wasn’t like the action heroes in the movies, spray-tanned to death and styled only to be pretty on film. He was actually strong. Real muscles used for work and not just photographs. 

So entranced by his muscles you hadn’t noticed he was fully undressed and ushering you towards the shower. 

“Aren’t you going to take your mask off?” you asked, a smile on your lips as if it was obvious he wasn’t going to shower with it. The muscles in his neck tensed and he shook his head. You frowned. “Thomas, the water will mess it up.” 

He considered your words for a moment and then raised his hand to your face. He pressed his fingers over your eyes as if closing the eyes of a corpse and then pulled away. You blinked, not sure what he was saying and he did it again, blacking out the world and then revealing it once more. 

“Oh! I won’t look, Thomas. I promise,” you said. You closed you eyes and raised your chin to display your eyelids firmly shut. You heard a small rustling, an intake of breath, and then the crinkling of the shower curtain being pulled aside. 

His hand held yours, guiding you as you stepped into the shower. The water was still warm and you pressed under it, letting it wash over you. Despite your eyes being closed you could still feel Thomas’s presence. His skin brushed yours, his breath louder in the enclosed space, and the smell of blood, sweat, and sex. 

You ran your hands over your face, rubbing the blood from your skin under the water. You’d have to take another shower later when you could see and scrub the blood from your nails. 

Something touched your chest. You brought your hand to it and it felt the coarse fabric of a rag. Tommy dragged it across your collarbone and it left a slippery path of soap across your skin. 

You stayed quiet as he scrubbed your skin. The rag dragged across your jaw and neck and cleaned the blood from your breasts and shoulders. He even soaped your hair, running his fingernails against your scalp. It was heaven. You sighed, leaning back against his own warm, wet, skin. After you’d been thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed he pressed a kiss to your cheek that felt strange without the bulk of his mask in the way. You turned, pressing your lips to his eager to feel his face unhindered by leather. It felt like every other kiss, and soon you were putty in his hand again. But instead of spreading your thighs he ushered you out of the shower. 

He pressed a hand over your eyes again and released it as if to say “you can open them now.” 

You did, blinking to adjust to the light. Thomas ducked behind the curtain to finish his own washing. You felt fresh and new after being cleansed by his gentle touch and you would have given anything to give him the same feeling.

There would be time for that in the future. 

You grabbed a towel and dried yourself off, tying your hair up to keep from dripping all over the floor. You pulled the fresh clothes on, an old yellow sun dress Luda Mae had given you. You assumed it had been hers as a younger woman but now you wondered if it had belonged to a wayward traveler. There were no bloodstains on it so it was unlikely but it sat in the back of your mind. 

You cleared a section of the steamed up mirror to take a look at yourself. Thomas had done a good job. Your skin was spotless. 

The water shut off behind you and Thomas let out a low grunt. 

“I’m not looking,” you said squeezing your eyes shut. The shower curtain crinkled and you listened as he moved around the small bathroom. The urge to sneak a peek was strong but you resisted. 

You’d see Thomas Hewitt’s face when he showed it to you willingly. 

[cockasinthebird]

About a month ago, it was a certain someone’s birthday, and it took me that long to write this, BUT I would like to use the two weeks of being flagged as a perfectly valid excuse for no writing at all, thank you very much yes 😌

So, to dearest @jimhhawkins, You’ve already read some of this, but here’s all of it! The ending is not what I had in mind originally, but I am not in full control of where it goes; I simply follow the flow of the story and so... well, enjoy 💝

-

“Sometimes I just want to fucking punch you.”

“Then go ahead, pretty boy; hit me, if you dare.”

It’s been a few months since their “official meeting” at Tina’s party, and it is ardently clear to any one person that spends even a minute in the same room as these two, that what’s happening between them burns hotter than the sun, a blistering heat that can’t be extinguished, yet whether it’s hatred or passion is up for discussion.

Steve’s fist curls tighter. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Whatever is going on between them, both in public and in private, is painful - broken hearts and broken noses, things that they both crave for viciously, and when being friends is too dangerous, too close, a useless rivalry suddenly doesn’t sound that bad. At least it still brings them together.

Like now. The snow lies heavy on the grass surrounding the Harrington mansion, the dark woods shielding them from the rest of the world as they stand frozen here together, within reach, the tips of boots just touching.

Yes being friends would make everything too hard to conceal, the truth behind their anger would be too obvious then. So Steve dares.

And Billy laughs, bent slightly forward as red spatters across the white snow, like rose petals scattered to set the mood, and Billy is fucking laughing, maniacal and wild, as he whips up again to let the stream from his nose run uninterrupted down his lips, drip from his chin onto Steve’s winter boots.

“Better?” he grins.

The ache in Steve’s fist spreads till his hand feels restless, the urges of his heart upon seeing Billy bleed rushes down quick.

“Not yet,” his response a lurid groan of wanting, and with a hand strong at Billy’s neck, pulls him in to taste the coppery hatred, the sickly need.

Billy doesn’t punch back, doesn’t have a witty remark, doesn’t call Steve disgusting names for any of this. No, he lets his so-called rival do whatever the fuck he pleases; pulling their bodies flush, lapping up the blood, biting and pulling at his lips, grinding their growing lust together.

“God- shit, I wanna fuck you so bad,” Billy growls out with exposed canines, hungry, craving, as he grabs Steve by the jacket, pinning him against the BMW, grinding harder till denim starts to hurt.

It takes a few brutish thrusts together with Steve whining at the friction before he finds his voice again; “Get inside then.”

-

This isn’t the first time Billy’s been inside the Harrington’s home, and it definitely won’t be the last, but just like on any previous occasion, he doesn’t get to look around - no tour of the dozens of rooms, no offers of beer or food, no chance to stare at family photos that might or might not hang on the walls, all he knows of is the carpeted stairs going up, and the horrible plaid walls of Steve’s bedroom.

It’s neat and tidy as always, doesn’t really look lived in at all, more like a showroom of a model home than a teenage boy’s bedroom. At least the sheets are green now rather than blue, so that’s something.

Steve looks better in green anyways, Billy notes, as his pale, naked body lands on top of the covers, dark hair spread out on a pillow beneath, the moonlight caressing his dotted skin, perfectly highlighting the day old bruises that’s been bitten, kissed, punched, sucked across every inch of available flesh, leading in a clear and practiced pattern down to where he’s needy for attention the most.

As if they don’t have all the time in the world for this, Billy tears away his own clothes and nearly throws himself at Steve again, settling in firm between spread thighs. He kisses along the collarbone, tastes his prey’s heartbeat as he licks down his chest, nipping at oversensitive buds that haven’t had time to heal proper since last, and he can’t help but grin at the pained hiss that’s followed by a roll of hips - the leaky head of Steve’s full dick rubbing against Billy’s stomach.

“Fuck, Billy,” Steve moans with a fist in golden curls, pulling him down, demanding that he go further, oh so impatient to have those lips do what they do best.

And Billy doesn’t resist that, for as much as he loves teasing Steve till he’s on the verge of tears and begging, his own steely cock has been pulsating to the beat of his heart since Steve suckerpunched him outside.

He presses his nose deep into the wiry hair that leads from the navel to Steve’s long erection, inhaling his sweaty scent, musky and strong with just a hint of soap from the morning, to which it all escapes Billy again in a stuttering breath. 

In this moment, nothing else in the world exists but the smell of Steve, the taste of Steve, the sound of Steve, as Billy lets out his tongue, wet and flat, to run up the length of his throbbing dick, base to tip, and the moans that echoes out as Billy closes his lips around the head to suck it clean of pre is like an angel’s choir to him, heavenly and desirous.

Legs tremble closed around his head, over his shoulders as he slowly sinks down, swallowing every single inch he can, gag reflex shot to hell by now from frequent use. He’d never dare admit this to anyone, especially Steve, but every day Billy thinks about choking to near death on Harrington’s cock, eager to feel it in his throat, hit against the back and leave him breathless and hoarse with a dull pain for hours to come. The weight, the taste, the touch. It might be the one thing that brings him the most shame in his life, but also the most joy.

By now he can go till his nose is buried in dark pubes, and stays there to revel in the constrictive feel of Steve’s head blocking out most air, pushing hard back against those hips that buck up, the hand in his crown keeping him down as Steve twitches in his mouth, and Billy can’t help but hum at that, enticing and deep.

“Mmh, fuck, Billy, you feel so good,” Steve moans out low, pulling at those golden curls to lift Billy up, just to push him down again.

Blue eyes vanish behind lids as they flutter closed. Billy relaxes, melts into the sheets, focuses on how the tip of Steve’s cock runs along his palate, past his uvula and into his throat where he swallows around the hard flesh.

Steve’s fingers slip loose, falling to choke the sheets beneath them, allowing Billy freedom to go faster, setting a sloppy pace, loud and obscene, spit running down his chin, his throat, a scene straight from top shelf porn if Billy were to brag about it, and the other guy can only concur - gasping out, calling Billy’s name over and over, mixed with curses of fuck and shit, occasionally praises of that feels amazing and a dozen yes’.

“I-I’m close, ah-” he moans out and lifts off of the bed, seeking more to bring him to bliss, making Billy gag at the movement - a sound that brings another deep groan out from above.

At that, Billy makes a sound that would have been of euphoria if it wasn’t muffled by a mouthful of cock, his own steely prick leaking where it’s caught between his stomach and the bed, each abusive little thrust into his mouth makes his body kick against the soft and expensive fabric.

He stills all movement as Steve bucks his hips again, fucking into Billy’s wet heat, whose eyes roll back, toes curling in a struggle to restrain himself from cumming all too soon, oh how easy he is under King Steve’s command.

And from many times before, he recognises the urgent breathing and rising volume of Steve’s elated cursing that comes with him emptying out into Billy’s throat, so deep in that not a single drop can be spilled, to which Billy gladly swallows everything that Steve offers him.

He hollows his cheeks as he moves off, gasping for air and he lets Steve’s flaccid cock slap wetly onto his stomach, who’s fighting for air all the same with an arm thrown over his face.

“We’re not done yet, princess,” Billy growls, kisses his way up abs, through the patch of chest hair, moving till his own lonesome dick rubs along Steve’s, making the brunette hiss and grab on to Billy’s shoulder, digging in fingers.

Steve bites into his lower lip, staring down at Billy as he keeps grinding them together, the soreness of being so oversensitive overshadowed by how lustful he remains.

“Y-You know where the- ah- the lube is,” he says with a wavering voice.

Billy doesn’t even have to look when he reaches for the drawer in the bedside table, proving just how often he’s done this- how often they have done this. His thumb runs along the lid of the tube, ready to flick it open any coming second, but he’s thriving - throbbing from the way Steve’s whining about the roll of his hips, how it’s just not enough, not what he brought him here for in the first place.

Then there’s a fist in his mullet, yanking him away from where he’s been sucking and biting on Steve’s neck, angling him up till their eyes meet.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or should I call somebody else?” he threatens with a frown, brows drawn together all serious.

But Billy is always up to challenge that.

“Oh yeah?” There’s no grin, no smile, just his tongue licking across his lips. “And who else would fuck you so readily?”

“I know Charles in algebra is willing to do my homework if he also gets to do me. Joe in Spanish is so eager to teach me all the right words, and he knows how to use his tongue. Or maybe Tommy Hagan, hmmm,” Steve hums in contemplation at that name, smiling because he knows what the thought of him and Tommy together does to Billy and his intense jealousy of Steve’s first guy. “It’s been a while since I let him fuck me good from behind.”

“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” Billy huffs out harsh with teeth bared, ready to bite and tear, convincing enough in his tone, but the way a jealous rage pulsates through him begs to differ.

“And what are you gonna do about that?” Steve tilts his head back, exposing his neck, daring Billy to do what he so clearly craves.

Then he’s gone, crawled away, and before Steve can even question it, he’s flipped onto his stomach, legs pushed apart by Billy’s own, now a fist in his dark hair where he’s pulled back with an all too loud moan.

“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like I do,” Billy snarls directly into his ear.

He angles himself proper till his steely cock slick with pre-cum lands in the crevice of Steve’s cheeks. There he rocks his hips, all the way till his balls slap against Steve’s ass, then back till the tip tickles and teases to go between.

Steve breathes with elation, keening, both hands choking the life out of a pillow.

“If I ever find out you went back and fucked Hagan, I’ll beat the living crap out of him, got it?”

An ever so deeply satisfied moan and an obedient nod is all Steve can manage to respond with.

“Good. You’re mine now, and I don’t do well sharing my toys.”

The cap pops open, and Billy releases his hold on Steve to instead lube up his digits, guides the hand between them and down to mercilessly push the middle finger all the way in, making Steve’s back arch beautifully.

“F-fuck, Billy!” he calls out as his head lands heavy on the pillow, Billy’s thick finger driving in and out with fervor.

A devil’s worth of a grin cracks across Billy’s face as he listens to Steve’s moans. The lube gets tossed aside, the hand instead going down to wrap around Steve’s filling cock, making the oversensitive brunette practically cry out at the touch.

“Mmmm look at you,” he rumbles deep like a bassline, “I’ve barely even managed to swallow all of your cum and you’re hard again already.”

That one digit pushes in deep, curls at all the right spots, as is evident by the loud and abrupt, “A-ah! Shit, yes! There- God-” feeding into Billy’s self-confidence that already rests high above any other person’s ideal.

“Yeah, you like what I do to you?” He thrusts in a second finger, Steve fighting back his every sound, yet Billy feels his lust in the way he clenches and trembles around the two thick digits pumping in and out. “Mmmh, fuck you’re so tight - always such a good little hole for my big cock.”

Steve moans heavy into the pillow, trying not to sound as pliant and easy as he is in the hands of Billy - trying to keep some semblance of self-respect perhaps, keep up that wall that still separates them. But giving in with no inhibitions is so much easier.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Billy breathes ragged and wanton as he adds a third finger, adoring the way Steve curses all muffled. “Fuck you into the mattress so hard you won’t be able to sit right for a week.”

At that promise, Billy feels pre leak onto his fingers, slicking up the motion he consistently strokes along Steve’s long erection.

And he chuckles like thunder behind immaculate pecs. “So wet for me, princess. You’re such an eager little whore.”

“I swear to God, Billy, if you’re not gonna fuck me instead of just talking about it, I’ll hit you again,” Steve speaks as he raises up on elbows, glancing behind to watch Billy’s self-satisfied grin falter, a storm brewing in his eyes, clouding the blue skies there.

Then the hand around his throbbing dick is gone, grabbing a fistful of hair instead and shoving his face back into the pillow. Billy pulls out his fingers again, smearing the excess lube all over his own veiny cock, palming at the head as he stares at Steve’s impatient ass clenching at nothing, waiting and waiting and waiting.

“Just when I start to tolerate you, you go being such a dipshit, Harrington.”

Billy strokes himself for longer than necessary, moaning with just a slight bit of exaggeration, egging Steve on, and if his frustrated sounds are anything to go off of, it’s working.

“You only barely make up for it by being such an easy lay.”

He brings the blunt head of his shaft to the hole he’s hungering for, running it up and down the puffy ring, listening to Steve whine for it.

“I just have to look at you and you’re hard.”

Pushes in, just the tip of it, just enough to have Steve let out a long sound of annoyance, a pleading little moan as he leans back, chasing the euphoric stretching of his body, but a firm hand on his ass keeps him at bay, as Billy pulls away just a bit, before dipping in again, like he’s testing the waters, grinning at the reaction he’s getting.

And Steve knows what he has to do for it, hates it, a clear blush spreading across his pale shoulders, washing down his back.

“Billy, Billy please,” he mewls, trying to struggle against the warm palm squeezing a cheek; not in an attempt to wrestle free, but to give Billy what he’s asking for, without so many words. “Please just fuck me, I-I need your cock so bad, so so bad, Billy.”

Billy could absolutely cum from just this - hearing Steve beg like a common whore, stroking his pained erection and giving nothing more than the tip to that willing hole. All he needs is to know he’s needed like this, and he’s finished, but the pleasure of unravelling King Steve this way…

With one brutish thrust, Billy sinks into Steve with such fervor that his knees slip on the bed, spreading him further till he lies flat on top of the covers, breathlessly stuttering out pleasure of being trapped beneath Billy’s forceful weight. Every little sound Steve makes is undeniably euphoric, and Billy stills all movement to enjoy how Steve’s body takes a chokehold on his fat cock, sucking him in like he’s been missed and waited for for years.

“That what you wanted?” Billy drawls out and leans down to bite at the shell of Steve’s ear, his dick twitching and pulsating deep inside, moving his hips to draw tight circles, making the other gasp and moan mindlessly.

Steve eventually manages a hopeless, “Y-yeah,” lying limp and filled and satisfied, when Billy angles his head; turning him enough to share a kiss, to pry lips apart with his tongue, to swallow the little whines that spills as he starts a shallow and agonizingly slow pace. 

“Billy, ahh…” Steve whispers, tries to catch on to the rhythm, grinding himself against the covers; lube dripping from his hole mixes with his pre cum, wetting the fabric till it’s slippery and nice against his aching dick.

Then Billy raises off of him - keeps him caught against the mattress, a warm and heavy hand on his back like an anchor, fingers spread out between shoulder blades, the other reaching up to tangle fingers in dark, soft hair, pulling there just enough for Steve’s mouth to be forced open, enabling every lewd little noise escape, moaning and keening, begging.

He pulls all the way back till the head is barely inside still, revelling in the way every muscle clings to him with desperation, watches in the darkness how pale hands strangle a pillow, feels his body tense with irritation beneath his palm. The shift of it all is immediate when Billy pushes back in- shoves his steely cock to the base and out again, loving the perfected melody of skin slapping and Steve crying out loud with the pleasure that Billy gives him, pounds him, fucks him like he’d die if he didn’t.

“Fuck, Billy,” a pathetic, needy, elated whine.

When Billy’s hand lets go of dark locks, Steve’s head lands on the pillow, his body limp and unmoving as Billy uses him like he truly is no more than an expensive toy - a favorite toy. His toy.

“Shit that’s good, arrh-” Billy rasps out.

He rakes one hand down Steve’s skin, across the dimples at the small of his back, down till he grabs a soft cheek with a firm hand, squeezing and pulling it aside to grant him a perfect view of where he fervently thrusts into Steve’s hungering body.

“Come on, get up on your knees, Harrington,” he demands with a voice deep and thrilling, as he pulls out and inches away a bit to make room for how frantically Steve shuffles to get up on his knees, ass in the air, back arched, head turned to gaze back at Billy.

Who licks his lips before biting down as he dives back in with no warning, earning him a lascivious, shocked moan. He grabs on to Steve’s hips as he fucks him with a rapid pace, digging in his fingers till it should hurt, but anyone having the pleasure of listening to Steve like this knows he’s brimming with heat. The curses, the moans, the groans, the pleas - Billy whips his head back to lose himself in it all, an endless symphony of eroticism and animalistic urges and unadulterated wanting.

“B-Billy- Billy, I’m close, ahh-” Steve can barely manage coherent speech, “Please, touch me- fuck, Billy, please!”

Fuck if hearing Steve’s mindless begging doesn’t push at Billy’s insides, waves of lust running hot like lava on the edge of spilling out, but Billy grins all wicked and chuckles hoarsely.

“Nah pretty boy, you wanna cum again, you’re gonna cum untouched,” he growls and slams in harder to emphasise his unfair statement.

Steve dares to defy, bringing his own hand down, but seconds before he’d have been able to jerk himself to completion, Billy takes a punishing grip around his wrist.

“What did I just fucking say?” there’s barely even a hint of jesting to Billy’s tone at that. “Give me your other hand.”

With no hesitation, Steve does as demanded - angles his other arm behind to where Billy wraps his strong fingers around both wrists before pressing them against his back, Billy’s whole body weight on top of it, rendering Steve completely helpless.

Helpless, powerless, completely at Billy’s mercy, skin burning where he strangles his wrists, fingers digging into his hip, a perfectly orchestrated plight that ignites fireworks; a colorful barrage with tensing muscles and a wild cry as Steve cums, feet lifting off of the mattress with the curl of his toes, the release of it all ruining his sheets.

“Holy shit- fuck- Stevie-” Billy barks out rough as he pounds vigorously till his thighs and hips stings, Steve’s body like a vicegrip around his steely cock, burning hot, slick and velvety.

It takes no more than a few brutish thrusts for him to come undone, filling up Steve’s hungering hole with all that he is; an electric charge detonating in his gut that bends him over, sweaty locks falling around his stilled face like a curtain, his entire body pulsating and throbbing as he grinds his last bit of energy against Steve’s flushed ass.

As the world returns with the cooling of his body, all to be heard is both their labored breathing, ragged gasps and wet swallowing.

Billy kisses every mole across Steve’s upper back, shoulder to shoulder, grip softening around Steve’s wrists, but neither of them pulls away. His other hand rubs soothingly at where he’s been viciously holding on for dear life.

He doesn’t want to pull out, move away, end this. This… warm feeling, limp dick buried in Steve, something else buried in Billy’s soul, his mind knows what it is yet still fumbles to unlock it. With help, perhaps, it would see the light of day sooner, but that would require for him to find the courage to reach out.

And Billy always finds himself a coward in the wake of his heart.

With a sigh that hopefully sounds more tired and satisfied than dejected and hopeless, he lifts off of where he’s been resting his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades-

When the soft and pale body beneath him twists around, Steve reaching out to cautiously grap Billy by the arm, a softness in his eyes where they meet through the darkness, and with flushed cheeks and battered breath, the request comes gingerly,

“Wait, don’t… don’t pull out yet.”

Perhaps even Billy’s heart stops with the rest of him.

“Can we… lie for a bit?”

Well that’s… something new, and the shock of it shows in the wrinkles of Billy’s brow. But when Steve gives his bicep a beckoning squeeze, gaze unwavering, Billy’s more afraid of saying no than yes.

[izzielizzie]

could u do a short Rosalind and Tommy fic?

This is by no means short and also it’s not that great but enjoy anyway! Also? the football coach? Definitely took some inspiration from my soccer coach. 

Tommy was having, to put it plainly, a terrible day.

It had started that morning, when he awoke to the most obnoxious bang he had ever heard. Not fully awake yet, Tommy jumped, falling out of his bed.

"Where's the canon?" Tommy mumbled, running his fingers through his rumpled dark hair. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't talking to anyone. Tommy made the effort to scramble off the floor and venture out of his room, calling for his parents as he looked into the rooms of his house. Empty. He glanced out of the kitchen window and saw his older brother Nick in the driveway. "Nick?"

"Out here Kid!" Nick called back from the driveway.

"Obviously," Tommy mumbled. Nick was back from the military for a two month long vacation, something that had been as much of a surprise to Nick as it had been to his loved ones, and in the past three days Nick had managed to cause general chaos on their beloved Gardam Street.

Tommy pushed through the side door, bypassing the coat rack on his way out. This was his first mistake.

He stepped into the frigid early December air to see Nick staring into the hood of his car.

"What was that noise?" Tommy asked, stepping up next to his brother.

"The car, I -"

"Hello," a voice called from across the street, interrupting Nick. The brothers turned to see Rosalind, Skye, and Jane Penderwick trekking across the frost covered street to their house, Jane in the lead, waving at them. "Whoops," she said as she nearly slipped. Tommy saw Skye roll her eyes at Jane, but he looked past her at Rosalind. Tommy smiled at her, despite the intense shivering that overtook him. She looked adorable in her beige peacoat and black cap that looked a little like a beret, sitting jauntily atop her curls. Rosalind raised a hand to wave at him, and Tommy waved back.

"You're going to get a cold," Rosalind said as a way of greeting when the sisters reached Tommy and Nick.

"No I'm not," Tommy responded, pulling her into him for warmth anyway. She giggled and rested her head on his chest, her arms around his waist.

"So what happened to the car Geiger?" Skye asked, punching Nick in the shoulder gently.

"Not sure," Nick says truthfully.

"Maybe the battery was stolen. We know how to put it back," Jane said, peering into the car, mimicking Nick's stance.

"No we don't banana head," Skye said, kicking at Jane's slippers with her own. Unlike their older sister, Jane and Skye were still wearing pajamas underneath their heavy sweaters. "We know how to remove one though," Skye added as an afterthought.

"Maybe not mention that out loud," Tommy joked as the rest of the Penderwick family approached them, Batty and Ben in the lead, Ben holding his sister's hand.

Nick instantly turned to swing Ben high above his head. "How are you doing on this fine morning Bravo-Echo-November?"

"Golf-Oscar-Oscar-Delta," the boy giggled as Nick placed him on his shoulders.

"Ugh Nick, don't encourage him," Rosalind said from her place in her boyfriend's arms. "He's been using that alphabet for the past two days."

"Buck up Rosy, Ben's learning how to spell," Mr. Penderwick said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

"Car trouble?" Iantha asked pleasantly, the last one to arrive. Like her step-daughter, she was dressed in her day clothes.

"It would seem so Iantha," Nick said solemnly. He brightened instantly though. "How's the baby?"

Iantha smiled like she did every time Nick asked that question. "Very good at sapping my energy," she said with a smile as she put a hand on her stomach.

"My brother's gonna be as cool as you!" Ben informed Nick with a little clap.

"Ben dear, the baby might be a girl," Rosalind said, shaking Ben's little foot from his high perch.

"No," Ben said in his stubborn voice. Rosalind rolled her eyes, but Tommy knew she was not actually upset. She loved Ben too much for that.

"Well, how will you get to school Tommy?" Batty asked, speaking for the first time. Both Geiger brothers looked at each other, not considering Tommy's options for getting to school.

"Are your parents at work?" Mr. Penderwick asked. He was dressed for work too, and Tommy noticed the car keys dangling from his hand. Both boys nodded. Tommy turned to Rosalind.

"Can I go with you Rosy?"

Rosalind's face fell. "Oh Tommy I'm sorry, but I'm not going to school remember?"

Oh. Rosy had taken the day before winter vacation off to drive to Rhode Island to take a self-guided tour of Brown, a college on her list for years.

"I remember. It's okay."

"Tommy if you're ready Iantha and I can take you on our way to the university," Mr. Penderwick said.

"It'll have to be right now though," Iantha added. "We have to go to the kindergarten and the elementary school first to drop off Ben and Batty."

Tommy looked down to his pajamas and his bare feet, which were becoming numb. "I might not be ready in time," he said.

"Why you can walk with us!" Jane said brightly. “And tell us about Russian class and your football team!”

Skye rolled her eyes again. As a freshman, Jane was still too excited about being in high school, and her excitement oozed into everything she said and did. 

“But we need to leave soon too. I have a question for my physics teacher,” Skye added.

Tommy agreed, and the two families dispersed, leaving Tommy to quickly pull on his warmest clothes and brush his teeth. He decided to forego breakfast, since Skye was ringing their doorbell incessantly. 

“Hey Nick, where’s my hat?” Tommy called to his brother, who was getting ready to go back to bed after calling the towing company. 

“Mom sent it to the cleaners!” Nick called back over the doorbell. 

Right, Mrs. Geiger - fed up with the mud Tommy got on his winter clothes - decided to send all of his outerwear to the cleaner, forcing Tommy to wear one of Mr. Geiger’s old jackets. Tommy - after realizing that he could search for the hat and annoy Skye and himself or just leave - called goodbye to his brother and stepped out. It somehow had become even colder than it had been earlier. 

Tommy walked to school behind the sisters, letting their conversations drift towards him as he shivered violently. As they neared the school, Jane looked back at him. 

“Are you alright?”

“Just cold.”

“Shall I bathe your forehead?”

“Jane stop with the forehead bathing. Not all ailments need you and your cold washcloths,” Skye said giving Tommy an apologetic look. 

“Why do you always ask?” Tommy asked, genuinely curious.

“Because no one ever said yes,” Jane said irritably. 

Tommy shook his head at Jane as his stomach rumbled. He ignored it.

He spent the next three and a half hours ignoring his stomach until his lunch block. 

“I have never seen you walk so fast,” Brendan - one of his football teammates - said as they headed to the cafeteria. 

“I haven’t eaten all day,” Tommy responded.

“Why?”

“Long story,” Tommy responded as he fished around in his school bag for his wallet. Tommy searched for a few moments, growing more and more panicked until he realized that his wallet was always in his gym bag which was always swung over his left sh-

Wait.

“Brendan have you seen my gym bag?” Tommy asked frantically as they stepped forward in the lunch line.

“No, you didn’t have it with you in class.”

“Oh no,” Tommy said, realizing that he had put his gym bag in Nick’s car. 

“What?”

“It’s in Nick’s car.”

“Can’t you go to the main office and call him? I mean he remembers how scary Coach is. He’ll drive it over.”

“Yes he would, except his car was towed since a pipe burst or something.”

Brendan nodded wisely. “Always the pipe.”

Tommy shook his head in exasperation. “What do I do?”

Brendan put a placating hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “The team will pool our money, don’t worry, and we’ll deal with Coach when we cross that bridge.”

Between Brendan and their teammates, they managed enough money for an apple, a bag of pretzels, and a carton of milk, which Tommy only managed to eat before the bell rang for their next class.

“Alright students, pull out your group projects, we’re presenting today,” their history teacher was saying as Tommy and another of his teammates - Jackson - entered the room.

“Group projects?” Tommy asked Jackson as they sat in their seats in the middle of the room. Tommy usually sat in the back, but Rosalind was in the class and she liked to sit in the front, so they compromised. 

“Yeah. About the Silk Road? Remember? You worked with Rosalind.”

“And she’s not here,” Tommy whispered harshly, briefly wondering how his day could have gotten this bad. 

Jackson made a face of comprehension. “Sorry Geiger, you’re on your own.”

They turned to their teacher as he started speaking. “Going alphabetically, Tommy Geiger and Rosalind Penderwick are first to present.”

With a sigh, Tommy raised his hand. “Yes?”

“Sir, Rosy - that is, Rosalind isn’t here today.”

Their teacher sighed. “Then present on your own please.”

“But, Rosalind has the project.”

“Why didn’t she give it to you?”

“She must have... I mean, I must have forgotten.”

“You forgot?” The look Tommy was receiving was worse than any of Rosy’s withering looks. Tommy sank down in in his seat a little as Jackson flinched sympathetically next to him.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, I hope you understand this will be reflected in both of your grades.”

“Yes sir, I know sir,” Tommy said, mentally kicking himself. He didn’t care much for his grade but Rosy had worked so hard, and he hated for her to not get the marks she deserved. 

Tommy passed the next two classes in a blur tired hungry, cold, and more importantly, incredibly angry at himself for letting Rosy’s grade slip. 

He let himself wallow in self pity until he stepped out into the football field and realized - to his dismay - that it was snowing. And not the delicate flurries that had been falling on the walk to school. No, this was the heavy, wet snow, the kind that could block roads and make passing drills rather difficult. 

“Alright boys, into your workout clothes. Snow never stopped football players!”

“Have fun telling Coach,” Jackson said, referencing Tommy’s missing gym bag.

“We’ll wait for you in the locker room,” Brendan added more kindly. 

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled as he headed towards his coach. “Coach?”

“Geiger! Into the locker room!”

“Yes sir, I will sir, but um...” Tommy trailed off, shaking his hands to get the cold numb feeling out of them. 

“Speak up!”

“I don’t have my gym bag.”

“Why?”

“It’s um, in Nick’s car? And it broke down?”

“Is that a question?”

“No? I mean... no.” Tommy kicked at the snow with his sneakers, not meeting his coach’s eye. 

“Well then, you can run laps.” 

Tommy looked up. “What?”

“You’re not getting a free pass Geiger.” Coach looked down at Tommy menacingly, as if he thought very little of people who tried to get out of football games. Not many things scared Tommy, but Coach was most definitely on the short list. 

“No sir. But what should I wear?”

“Jeans are fine.”

Tommy opened his mouth to ask another question, but his coach was already walking away. With a sigh, he went to the locker room to put his bag away. Thankfully, Brandon offered him one of his sweaters so Tommy would have only a slightly less chance of getting pneumonia. 

“Coach was brutal today,” Brandon announced three hours later as the boys headed to the parking lot. Tommy, trailing after them, shivering so violently his teeth were chattering. 

“At least you’re not Geiger,” a team member said, doubling back to clap Tommy on the shoulder. His knees nearly locked. “Sorry!”

“It’s f-f-fine,” Tommy responded as they neared the line of parked cars. 

“Want a ride home?” Brandon asked.

“He doesn’t need one,” Jackson said. 

“What?”

Jackson pointed to an old blue car at the edge of the parking lot, where a figure in a beige peacoat and a black cap was sitting on the hood of the car. Upon seeing the group of boys, the figure slid off the car. 

“But Rosy is in R-r-rhode Island,” Tommy said in disbelief. 

“Apparently not,” Jackson said with a grin.

“S-s-see you later,” Tommy said suddenly, breaking into a run despite his protesting legs. He barreled towards the car at full force, stopping only to grab Rosalind in a hug and swing her around, despite his screaming muscles. He could hear his teammates cheering somewhere behind them, but he was too busy hugging Rosalind as tight as he could. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked into her hair.

“The roads were closed so I cam back home. No point in being stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“I missed you.”

“Gosh Tommy you’re so cold,” Rosalind said in response, pulling away.

“It’s been a long day Rosy,” Tommy said, brushing snow out of his girlfriend’s hair.

“Wait, tell me in a moment, let me grab something.” Rosalind reached into the car and pulled out a garment bag from the Cameron Dry Cleaners. She unzipped it to reveal Tommy’s jacket, hat, and gloves.

“How did you -”

“I remembered your mother brought them in last week and I needed to pick up some stuff for Batty and Jane. I thought you might be cold without them so I got yours too.”

With a laugh, Tommy reached forward and kissed Rosalind, long and hard. “Thank you. But did you pay?”

“Yes but don’t worry about it.”

Tommy nodded, secretly resolving to pay her back. He knew her family’s finances worried her. Unfortunately, Rosy knew him enough to know what he was thinking.”

“Stop worrying Tommy, really. Here, put these on you’re going to get sick.”

Rosalind helped him into his jacket. He pulled his gloves on, and with a giggle, Rosy pushed his hat onto his head. It didn’t fully sit on his head properly, but she looked so adorable standing on her toes to reach his head that he had to pull her in for another kiss, forgetting about the cold and the snow.

“Thanks beautiful,” he whispered to her.

“Any time. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Tommy took his usual spot in the passenger’s side, and Rosalind slid behind the wheel. “Oh, one more thing.” Rosalind pulled a thermos out from the back seat cupholder. “I made hot chocolate. I didn’t get to taste it but-”

Tommy cut her off by pulling her into him in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Rosy.”

Rosalind pulled away, laughing. “Of course. I knew you’d be cold. Especially since I heard about your disastrous day.”

“You did? How?” Tommy asked, surprised, as Rosalind started the car and backed out of the lot. 

“Skye and Jane told me. Apparently you got yelled at during history?”

“It was project presentation day,” Tommy supplied. Rosalind glanced over at him. 

“Don’t worry about the grade. I’ll talk with him.”

“I feel so bad,” Tommy admitted.

“No, it was my job to remember to give it to you. Anyway, it’s winter vacation. Just enjoy the time off with your brother, okay?”

“And you,” Tommy said emphatically.

“And me,” Rosalind agreed. She cut a glance over to him as they turned into the chaos of Gardam street. “I love you Tommy.”

“I love you so much more. You have no idea.” 

Rosalind smiled.