#there was no good way for Tommy to do this
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I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.
Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.
Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.
Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.
Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.
Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.
Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]
And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.
Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.
And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancĂŠe, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)
Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.
But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.
They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.
Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.
And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.
What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.
But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.
Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.
[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]
I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.
#911 abc#911 spoilers#911 review#long post#911 season 8#evan buckley#eddie diaz#hen wilson#chimney han#maddie han#bobby nash#athena grant
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cw brief mentions of pregnancy
hook-up culture was one of the only ways you could get your fix without commitment. itâs hard to maintain any real relationships now, especially as a full time student (and slut). but youâd always been careful, having taken contraceptives, keeping condoms on you, etc etc.
though, none of them are 100% full proof.
you stare at the pregnancy test, wide-eyed. someone bangs on the bathroom door of the gas station, urging you to hurry up. but you canât, the implications of those two little lines keeping you stuck to the seat.
when you ask your friends, they dismiss you, saying âyouâre a smart girl, youâll figure it out.â and when you call your parents..
you block out the interaction from your memory.
with no financial or emotional support, you are forced to scour the internet for a solution. an abortion is too expensive, and you canât raise this thing when youâre about to enter your junior year of college.
all hope seems lost, till you find the shadiest ad on craigslist;
Looking for Baby to adopt. Surrogate or already pregnant. Will provide care for entire pregnancy.
it seems like a scam, even more so as you open it and skim through the benefits (a roof over your head, food and water, nearly $25k to start). everything about this seems too good to be true. after all, can you really trust something you saw on craigslist?
still, your eyes find a phone number and email address at the bottom of the ad, belonging to some guy named johnny mactavish. the foreign name throws you off even more, surely a name like that isnât located in the united states of fuck all. though, it seems like you have no other solutions.
hesitantly, your mouse hovers over the âreplyâ button, the clicking sound ringing in your ears, settling your fate.
ââ
johnny knew it was futile to post an ad looking for a surrogate on craigslist, but he didnât see any other options (or rather, he ignores them). simon and him have been retired for some time now, settling in some small state. the woods offer some sort of privacy, a silence that comforts them rather than makes them shake in their sleep.
it seemed natural that having children would be the next step after living here for so long. johnny thanks tommy for finding a pretty bird and producing a nephew since it wouldâve been harder to convince simon otherwise. the rileyâs donât seem like family men, yet simon is carving a little bear to send back to manchester, congratulating tommy on the announcement of his baby girl.
it makes johnny warm, but he canât help but feel jealous. sure, simon is everything to him, his whole world, but itâs hard to procreate when all you got is a prick and shitter.
so he set up his little offer, though he might as well be suppressed with how nearly no one has reached out to him.
johnnyâs about to take down the ad, ready to talk to simon about doing things a different way, when he suddenly gets a reply.
> this isnât a joke, right?
johnny raises a brow at this, swiveling back to the computer and typing up his response.
< would nevr joke bout smth srs
and when five minutes passed, he presumed that would be the end of this little interaction, fueling johnnyâs desire to take down the post.
that is, till he gets another response.
> well, is the position still open then?
he feels his heart stop, eyes widening as he reads the phrase over and over. a certain excitement wells in his chest, and he gets back on the keyboard before he can run out the room and tell simon the good news.
ââ
his last reply consists of a time, date, and address.
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The funny thing is the sigil works on all witches. Which also means Billy, which is why his amnesia persists. Billy Maximoff moved into a body with a sigil on it and promptly forgot who he was. And Lilia saw what he would become and probably realized three years of proper, real parenting from normal parents would do a lot of good for a Billy Maximoff who had only like 6 days experience of life, half of that with a crazy, troublemaking uncle and a mom who had checked out. And the only way he could have normal life was if he didn't remember who he was and didn't go off half cocked looking for a brother who didn't have a body.
Honestly, considering Tommy wasn't sigiled yet Wanda didn't find him either, I wouldn't be surprised if, since the Darkhold hid Agatha from Rio, it didn't also somehow hide her kids from her. Maybe there's some passive effect of the Darkhold that it blinds all magical ties the holder has. It's a corrupting influence, and there isn't a much quicker way to corruption than removing your loved ones and connections. So, she could only see her kids that existed in another universe because she didn't have a connection to them.
Lilia knew that he would become Billy Maximoff.
Lilia knew and she saw and she knew and she put that sigil to protect him.
(Who protected Tommy.)
Lilia do you realize that maybe if Wanda had been able to find him she wouldn't have felt the need to EVERYTHING IN DSMOM
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Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!
Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together heâs got the nastiest fucking mouth sheâs ever heard once heâs confident that she likes him as a love interest
parts
JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k
"He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. 'Tonight, ya can leave any time. Yaâainât mine yet, so ya donât gotta do anything I say...'"
NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie â¤ď¸ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty
WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.
He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.
The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.
Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didnât seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.
He taught you how to ride a horseâhe must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. âNow look close, okay? See how I hold it?â You were looking very close.
He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.
âAttagirl,â he said when you shot the glass bottle target. âLook at that,â he marveled.
To be fair, you werenât (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadnât felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.
Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didnât have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.
Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldnât hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didnât want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what itâd look like first thing in the morning,
One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didnât acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise youâd love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.
Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.
When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?
âYaâainât cold, are ya?â He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.
âNo, are you?â You asked.
âNo,â he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.
When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since youâd been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasnât much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.
After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didnât bat your foot away, but he didnât look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.
His strong chest heaved, and he didnât make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.
He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. âThink Iâm your plaything, little girl?â He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. âOr you tryinâ to be mine?â
You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.
âWanna be yours,â you answered matter-of-factly.
âYou dunno what you want, girl.â He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.
When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.
He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. âStill here,â he muttered, but didnât stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.
You joined him anyway.
You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.
âYou wanna know what it means to be mine?â Joel asked.
âYes, please,â you answered.
âIt means I own you,â he said.
âOkay,â you agreed. âIâm yours.â
He looked at you skeptically. "Iâainât agreed to own ya yet,â he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."
"of course," you acknowledged.
âGotta know itâs somethinâ ya really want, and if it is, weâll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.â
âOkay,â you agreed excitedly.
He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. âTonight, ya can leave any time. Yaâainât mine yet, so ya donât gotta do anything I say, okay?â
You nodded.
âBut later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.â
He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.
âOkayâ you agreed.
"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.
you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."
He nodded hesitantly.
âIt means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ainât yours anymore,â he looked you up and down. âItâs mine,â he stated emphatically. â*if* I decide I want it.â
âWhy wouldnât you?â You asked.
He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.
âAinât got patience for brats.â
âI can be good,â you promised.
âAinât got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'
You tried not to show your worry.
âAinât sure ya can handle it,â he admitted
"Ainât lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.â he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. âThis ainât no joke, honey. I donât wanna hurt ya.â
âIâm not a virgin,â you insisted.
âYeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."
âAnd I promise Iâll do what you say.â
Joel sighed. âAlright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and weâll forget this ever happenedâ
You obediently stripped.
He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. âAlright,â he nodded. âGood girl.â
Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.
âGod damn,â he whispered. âNow, câmere.â
With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.
âSpread your pussy for me,â he demanded.
You hesitated.
âDonât have to,â he reminded you.
You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. âLike this?â
âBoth hands, darlinâ. â
You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.
âGood girl,â he said. âWide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if theyâre gonna be mine.â
You pulled wider
He let out a low whistle. âJuicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But Iâm thinkinâ it might not fit, honey.â
âWhy donât you try it?â You asked.
You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.
He snatched your wrist to stop you. âYou donât get to touch me without askinâ,â he admonished you. âNotice I didnât touch you that whole time?â
Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.
âThatâs enough for tonight,â he said. âIâll think about it.â
âYouâll think about it? â
âIâll think about it.â
Your eyes were tearing up.
âYa did good, honey, itâs okay,â he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. âJust ainât the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?â
You finished getting dressed and nodded.
âIâll think about it too,â you agreed.
âGood girl,â he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, âHey,â he lowered his voice. âYa got a beautiful body. Anyoneâd be lucky to own it.â
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Thank you for reading đ¤đ¤
#joel miller smut#cw age gap#d/s dynamic#cw objectification#toxicanonymity â ď¸#pixel joel#game joel x reader#joel miller x reader#state of fic emergency
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You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.
They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.
And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.
Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.
I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.
My mistake.
Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.
That's not fair. I'm sorry.
The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.
He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.
Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.
Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.
No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.
He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.
He wonders if it had hurt.
Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.
His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.
Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.
His life has meaning, and all that jazz.
Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.
(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)
There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.
The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.
It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.
It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.
When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.
I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.
It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.
And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.
Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)
Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)
He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.
And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -
His phone buzzes on the coffee table.
Can we talk?
Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.
Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.
His phone chimes with an incoming call.
Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.
His phone rings again.
"What?"
"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."
Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"
"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."
"Are you driving right now?"
"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"
Buck gets stuck on fifth time.
There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.
Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.
"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."
Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."
"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."
He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."
Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.
(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)
The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.
He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.
He looks like shit.
"You look like shit."
Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.
"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."
Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.
Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"
Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.
"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -
"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.
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đ˘'đŚ đ đ¨đ§đ§đ đ đđ đ˛đ¨đŽ đđđđ¤
listen. i'm still so convinced it's Tommy up on that crane in 807 that my brain keeps writing scenes đđđđ so have this:
"Buck, you need to-"
He can't hear Bobby's words as he races up the ladder, panic rising faster and faster in his chest.
"Hey no no no no no!" He yells, throwing himself over the side. His hands grasp tight around Tommy's. "Stop stop stop! Please!" The words are coming out of him in sobs, but large hands grip around his wrists and a moment later, the older man tilts his head up and his eyes lock with Evan's.
"Ev-..." He cuts himself off, his voice wobbly and raspy from his current predicament.
"Just stop," Evan replies, snuffling as tears run down his face. "Stop moving, stop- just stop."
"Ok," Tommy replies, his voice weary as his fingers tighten around Evan's wrists that much more. The blonde glances up toward Chimney on the opposite crane. He's still working to get the harness unstuck, but apparently only having mild success with it.
"My legs are numb," Tommy states, blinking slowly. Chim looks up at them.
"Fuck this. I'm going to cut him down. The 217 can get the line fixed," Chimney states before heading back down the ladder in quick succession. "I need bolt cutters!"
"Evan," Tommy rasps. His hands are sweaty now, hanging onto the other man's arms.
"No," Evan replies, his voice tinged with anger now. "You have to hang on."
"You have to let go," Tommy counters to him, his voice exhausted. "Evan-" His grip slips on Evan's arm, and beneath them there's scrambling to get the inflatable placed properly. He glances over at the other crane as Chimney finishes reascending it.
"I can't," Evan replies, his own voice strained as he grips onto Tommy's arm with both hands now. "Fuck, Tommy, I can't."
"Why not," he asks wearily.
"Because!" Evan yells at him. Several tears fall off his face in quick succession, one landing on Tommy's own face as it continues its descent downward.
Somehow, even from beneath him, even with most of his blood volume hanging out in the lower half of his body with no way to make it circulate properly, Tommy manages to give him that look, the one that says he's really paying attention.
"Evan." He says it like it's Evan who needs to be talked off the ledge, like he's the one hanging in the middle of the air being held up by a crane.
"You don't get to give up now," Evan growls at him. "You already did that to me once this week."
"Are we really talking about this now," Tommy asks him. His fingers slip a few millimeters, but Evan curls his hand tight under Tommy's elbow, trying to pull him up.
"Seems as good a time as any," he replies. A humorless laugh slips out of him.
"I've almost got it," Chimney calls from the other crane.
Evan gulps. "It was too much, too fast," he states. "Asking you to move in. I s-said things that made it sound like I wasn't invested-.."
"It's fine," Tommy replies, sounding mildly exasperated.
"No its not," Evan argues, squeezing tighter on Tommy's arm. "it's not. Because it made me sound like I was asking you to move in because it's the easy option, like I wanted you to stay without any consideration of what your life looks like outside of what we are. Or were."
Tommy stares up at him, still blinking slow and long. Evan pulls his arm up inches higher, trying to take more of the weight off of his lower body.
"But it's not that," he says, sniffling again. "I lept before thinking, a-and made it into a thing that it wasn't and has never been." He sniffles again. "I didn't ask you to move in because I wanted to be impulsive. I said it because I want a life with you, a-and I was afraid to own that and what that means for me." He pauses and gulps, lets out a breath. "I was so pissed at you for breaking up with me, a-and you were doing the same thing I did. You were protecting yourself." Tommy stares up at him, eyebrows quirked slightly in confusion.
"I thought if I didn't say it, it was safer, that we-..." He shakes his head at himself as he feels the tension pulling Tommy back toward Chimney starting to wane as the bolt cutters work through the metal. "But I also want the whole damn thing with you. I'm not in it because it's easy, or because you were the first man to kiss me. I'm in it because I'm in love with you."
Tommy stares up at him still, giving him that damn look again, and the slack goes looser, his weight becoming even heavier on Evan's arms.
"I love you," he repeats. "I love you so damn much."
Tommy grants him a weary smile. "I love you too, Evan."
His weight falls entirely on Evan then, and both of their arms jerk out straight, Evan leaned roughly over the crane as he tries to keep holding on.
"Evan, let go," Tommy tells him.
"Please," Evan begs him, and he's not even entirely sure what it is he's begging for. "Tommy-.."
"I love you too," he repeats. "But you have to let go."
Evan gulps, forces a breath in, forces his tunnel vision to open up, and realizes the inflatable is ready and will catch Tommy. "I'll meet you at the bottom."
"Sounds good," Tommy rasps. And then, against everything that tells him he should, Evan lets go, watching as Tommy drops the 30 feet onto the inflatable crash pad. As soon as his body hits, Evan is already double-timing his way down the ladder. He makes it down in what he's sure is record time, running past everyone else to get to Tommy's side. Hen already has him on a stretcher, attached to a dozen leads and assessing his legs.
"Risk of compartment syndrome," she states. "Likely dislocation of the left hip. He needs x-rays and we need to go."
"I'm going with," Evan announces, refusing to hear reason to any other option. His hand is tight in Tommy's as soon as he's next to him, his other hand combing down the other man's hair as he stares down into those blue eyes. They're already brighter from his circulation picking back up. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."
"Good lord just kiss the man already," Gerrard calls from the back of the crowd. Evan whips his head around and Tommy leans up off he gurney, both of them giving the old grump a shocked expression.
"What?" He asks. He has that grumpy look on his face once more, like he still thinks that their lifestyle is beneath him (at the very least). "We all know it's what you're thinking. I just said it."
Evan turns back toward Tommy, and the blue eyes meet.
"My boyfriend's sister once said there better ways to get someone's attention than this," Tommy says. Evan lets out a laugh, color flushing through his cheeks at the dignification of boyfriend. He curls two fingers under Tommy's chin and kisses him, both of them ignorant of the whooping and hollering happening around them.
"Like that," he whispers when they finally part, pressing his forehead into Tommy's. Tommy has a hand fisted around Evan's shirt, keeping him close.
"Yeah, that works," he whispers back. "I love you, too, Evan. I love you, too."
#mel's musings#mini fic#bucktommy#lightning strike parallel#seriously if they don't go in this direction with this parallel#then they've DROPPED THE BALL#tevan#kinley#firepilot#firebeast
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reblogging comment review from @zyafics
i lied (warning i don't think my commentary r that good) âŹď¸
JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope.
thatâs his bf fr
But watching Rafe Cameronâthe boy who had idolized his father for years, now a manâsit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.
heâs just a baby boy
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The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.
climb that wall
Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm
this scene is supposed to be serious but i imagined tommy and jerry where jerrry hit jerry with a pan or smth and the thing bounces off of him wobbly đđok back to reading (i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)
(i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.
this is claustrophobic
"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."
MY BABY TAKING CARE OF MY OTHER BABY
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. âWhyâWhy did you pick up the phone?ââYou know why.â
can we please just fuck and make up
Without a word, he slipped off his shoes
this took me out white boy why do u have shoes in the HOUSEEEEE
ââŚI donât care what it fucking takes,â Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. âYeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesnât get out on bail. I donât want him anywhere near her again.â
rafe is such an action man we love đ
"I owe you everything," he murmured.
screeching under my pillow đŚ
âYouâve been alone?â You all but sob, âYouâve been here all this time? By yourself?â
the way ur dialogue is like a movie SOMEONE GET GIGI INTO THE WRITERS ROOM STAT
Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didnât pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.
SEXYYY TIMEEE đđťđđťđđťđđť i am so unserious
âI donât care,â you replied, shaking your head. âYou fucked me after I got shot.â
say it
"That night was different. We were different."
oh fuck off being a gentleman pls âđźđ¤¨
His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.
why is this so beautiful
"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."
ohmygod đ i feel like i am interrupting something
"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. âYou matter to me.â
BABIES ALL OF THEM !!!!!!!!!!!
Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."
put it in already đ (kidding i love this)
"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.
ur making me blush
âFuck, yes,â he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. âYou feel amazing.â
RAFE WHIMPERING I WONNN
"I can't believe you're real."
i swear to god if this turns out to be a dream iâm booking the next flight to ur city n murdering u in ur sleep (real)
final thoughts â this is so tender and sweet, i love this. i think i can offer no true words to have much i appreciate this series (also because i used it all up in the last review) but yes, like i said. compliments to the chefs for her dialogue and beautiful imagery. additionally, i wanna let u know that u give me so much inspiration. whenever i finish one of ur work, i'm like "i gotta get my ass up and work" because i always feel so motivated to write whenever i read ur stuff. <3 truly, tđđhank u for everything, i'm so excited (and sad... and horny...?) to see them come to a delightful end next part
THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six
request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 𫣠the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea thatâs all I got you can do whatever else the rest đ"
WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;
word count: 7.6k
You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.
Ward was officially in police custody.
They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.
He was stopped.
The man who caused so much pain and chaos to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.
But your relief came with a bit of caution.
This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted, and the justice system wasnât always as just as you hoped. Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.
JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadnât seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with âletâs fucking go, baby!â as he made his way upstairs.
You were content.
Was there really anything to be happy about?
Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.
Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil. You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameronâthe boy who had idolized his father for years, now a manâsit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.
Rafe.
You hadnât seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didnât see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if heâd been cooped up in that awful house all this time.
You couldnât shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dadâs mess.
Did he feel abandoned by you?
The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you shouldâve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Wardâs arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.
You almost gave in.
One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate, its looming structure a dark silhouette against the fading light. You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.
You couldnât do it.Â
The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.
As you walked home from your shift as a lifeguard at the beach, the sun setting behind you cast long shadows on the sand. The rhythmic crashing of the waves had always been your favorite soundtrack. Youâve spent most of your life inside the water, it was in your nature.Â
Growing up, surf and swimming were your outlets to get away from your violent father and deadbeat mother. The ocean was your sanctuary, a place where you could forget the shouting matches, the broken furniture, and the empty bottles scattered around the house. When you were out there riding the waves or just floating on your back, everything else melted away. The water had a way of washing off the grime of your home life, even if just temporarily.
Unfortunately, once you set your feet on the sand and walked home, that feeling always vanished.
Tonight, as you made your way home, the familiar dread began to creep in. Both your parents were long gone, but the sense of dread would never leave you, always attached to that stupid house.
Even though the yelling had stopped, and the bottles were gone, the walls seemed to hold on to the echoes of your past. The creaky floorboards, the dim lighting, the chipped paintâYou hated it.
You had considered moving out many times, but something always held you back. JJ. Money.
When you got there, the air felt unusually still.
JJâs truck wasnât parked in its usual spot, which was strange, but not entirely unheard of. What really unsettled you were the closed windows. You always left them open to let the ocean breeze in, but now they were all shut tight.
You called out your brotherâs name, hoping to hear his usual welcoming shout, but there was only silence. You shrugged it off, thinking he was probably out on the boat or lost in his video games.
You dropped your bag by the door and walked further inside.
"JJ?" You called again.
As you stepped into the living room, the sight of your father, Luke, froze you in place.Â
He seemed worse than you rememberedâdisheveled, eyes bloodshot, and reeking of alcohol.
Luke had been gone for a year, no contact, nothing. But the memories of his drunken rages and the bruises he left behind were still fresh. He was supposed to be miles away. JJ made sure of that, paying him off and helping him get off the island.
Seeing him was the last thing you were expecting.
"You shouldnât be here,â You warned him, trying to mask the fear rising in your chest.
He laughed, a hollow, chilling sound. "Iâm just here to see my kids. Is that so wrong?â
Liar.
You knew better than to trust him. âYou need to leave. Now.â
His expression darkened, the smirk fading. âYou donât get to tell me what to do.â
âWatch me. Out.â
He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, âI just need a little loan.â
You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, âNo. You need to go, for good.â
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might listen. But then he took a step closer, and you could smell the stale alcohol on his breath.
âIâm not leaving without what I came for.â
âI donât care,â You snapped, no longer the scared girl he was used to, âGet your ass out of my house before I call the cops.â
âThis is my house!â He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.
âNot anymore,â Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, âIâm not afraid of you,â you said, more to convince yourself than him.
He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. âYou always were a stubborn little brat.â
âAnd youâre a piece of shit.â
He lunged.Â
You barely dodged his grasp, stumbling back into the living room.
âStay away from me!â you shouted, desperately looking for something to defend yourself with.Â
Luke laughed, a dark, hollow sound, and came at you again. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You barely had time to react, instinctively raising your arms to block his advance.Â
âYou little bitch,â he snarled, pushing you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you fought to stay focused. You couldnât let him win, not again.
âYouâre going to give me what I want,â he hissed, his breath hot and foul on your face.
âNo, Iâm not,â you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.
With your free hand, you grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it at him. The base connected with his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.
âBitch!â he roared, holding his head. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but the sight only seemed to enrage him further.
He charged at you, knocking the lamp from your hands and pinning you to the floor.
You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, trying to throw him off. âGet off me!â you screamed, clawing at his face.
He slapped you hard, the force of the blow making your vision blur. âYou think you can fight me?â he snarled, his hands wrapping around your throat.
Gasping for air, you felt the desperation claw its way out. Youâd been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick. Your momâs candlestick. With the last of your strength, you brought it down on his head.
Lukeâs grip loosened, and he slumped to the side, groaning. You scrambled to your feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
He tried to get up, but you struck him again, this time with all your strength. The candlestick connected with a sickening thud, and your father collapsed, blood pooling around his head.
You stood over him, panting, the weight of what youâd done sinking in.
But then, with a guttural growl, he stirred and reached for your ankle. You staggered back, your heart hammering.Â
âStay down goddamit!â you shouted, raising the candlestick again.
He pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. âYouâre gonna pay for that,â he spat, lunging once more.
This time, you were ready.
As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, bringing your knee up sharply into his stomach. He grunted in pain, doubling over, and you seized the opportunity to land a sharp elbow to his nose. The crack was satisfying, but brief; he roared and grabbed at you blindly.
You ducked under his arm, grabbing a chair and shoving it between you. Luke, half-blind with fury, kicked the chair aside, but it gave you enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing you could findâa cast-iron skillet.
He stumbled into the kitchen after you, a trickle of blood from his nose mingling with the sweat and grime on his face.
âYou just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.â he snarled.
âStay back,â you warned, brandishing the skillet, âIâll fucking do it.â
Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm. He staggered, and you swung again, aiming for his head. The skillet hit with his temple, the sound echoing through the room and he collapsed, finally unmoving.
Oh fuck.
For a moment, the house was deathly silent.
You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.
Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously.  You almost killed him. There was so much blood. It stained the old carpet, the candlestick, your hands.
You backed away, your mind racing.Â
What if he died? What if youâd killed him? Oh god, oh god. This wasnât supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone, out of your life for good.
With trembling fingers, you picked up your phone, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on your shoulders. Your heart raced with adrenaline and fear, each breath feeling labored as you scrolled through your contacts. You needed help, someone who could make sense of the chaos now consuming your life.
The screen lit up with familiar names, but your vision was blurred with tears.
Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadnât called ever before. The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldnât move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
âMaybank?â
âRafe?â You gasped out, your voice breaking as you clutched the phone to your ear.
There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, âHey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?â
But you couldn't speak.
Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much.
The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.
You couldnât think.
âHey! Are you there? Talk to me!â Rafe's voice grew more urgent.
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.
âWhere are you?!â
You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.
In. Out. In. Out.
It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never eased.
âI think... I think I killed my dad.â
You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there, and the horror of it all washed over you again.Â
âAre you home? Are you safe?â
You glanced around the living room, the familiar space now a scene of violence.
âIâm home. JJ isnât here. I-I donât know where he is.â
âIâm coming,â Rafe said firmly. âStay there. Donât touch anything. Iâll be there as soon as I can.â
âRafeââ You began, but he cut you off.
âIâll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?â
The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear.
What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died? This wasnât you.
You didnât hurt people. You just wanted a little bit of peace in your life, some quiet. Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.
âMaybank?â
He called out for you as he stepped inside.
Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene before him. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.Â
âItâs okay. Iâm here. Youâre gonna be okay.â
He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your fatherâs motionless figure.
âWhat happened?â He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch.Â
âHe just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldnât. He got violent, and I... â
âItâs okay.â
His warmth helped.
But you still felt the overwhelming weight guilt eating you alive. The blood on your handsâit all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.
âHave you called 911?â
You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.
âDo you want me to?â
The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.
"I need an ambulance.â
He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying.Â
"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "Itâs gonna be okay."
You nodded weakly, grappling with the aftermath. Rafe stayed close, seated next to you.
"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."
"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.
Rafeâs hands griped your own, despite the blood coating it, "I know.â
The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.
When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, shielding you from the brunt of their inquiries. You watched in stunned silence as they worked.
He stayed close by, offering quiet reassurances and answering the paramedicsâ questions.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. Rafe followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.
He kneeled in front of you, âYou canât say here, okay? They called JJ, heâs on the mainland, but heâll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.â
You nodded weakly, your body feeling as if it had been drained of all energy.
"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."
He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.
Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.
âIâm sorry.â
âThereâs nothing to be sorry for.â
You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafeâs place.
Tanneyhill.
It felt odd, being there after so long, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your shoulders.Â
"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."
You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in Rafeâs home after everything that had happened.
He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.
"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.
You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely, concern etched across his features.
"You need to rest," he said. "Iâll be right here."
"But Iâ"
"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, but not unkindly. "We can talk more in the morning.â
There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didnât need his help. Youâd done this for years, alone.
And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didnât fight him.Â
You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You canât go to bed like this."
At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he led you inside, guiding you to the bathroom.
"Here," he said, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."
You nodded gratefully, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.
The sound of the water running was comforting, a small sense of normalcy. You stripped off your clothes, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled your shorts off.
The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt made you want to burst into tears, again.
Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you, washing away the grime and blood. The heat soothed your tense muscles, and you stood there for a long time, eyes closed, letting the water work its magic.Â
Slowly, you began to wash yourself, scrubbing away the remnants of your fatherâs presence. The soap smelled of lavender, and somehow you found yourself smiling for a second, realizing this was Rafeâs scent earlier. You washed your hair, the routine bringing you back to the present. As the water rinsed off, clarity slowly returned. You were still scared shitless, but that shower gave you a moment of peace. Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel and took a deep breath.
Rafe had left a pair of sweatpants, boxers and a t-shirt outside the door, just as he said he would.
You dried off and changed into them, feeling a bit more like yourself. They were a little big, but they were warm and comfortable.
They were Rafeâs.Â
You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.
"Feeling better?"Â
"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."
He nodded. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
He led you to what you assumed was a guest room, the bed already made up with fresh sheets.Â
"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."
You hesitated, then slowly extended them. They were scratched and bruised, remnants of how fucked up your father was.
Rafeâs touch was gentle as he cleaned the wounds, using antiseptic wipes to carefully remove the blood that you hadnât been able to get rid of in the shower.Â
âThis might sting a bit,â he murmured, his voice soothing despite the warning.
It made you wince, but you bit your lip, staying silent.
"Iâm sorry," he said, noticing your discomfort.
"âM used to it. Itâs okay,â You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound.Â
The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafeâs face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care.Â
âI didnât want to drag you into my mess.â
Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.
âYouâre not a mess.â
Your chuckle was short and stifled, âRight.â
His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. âI mean it.â
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. âWhyâWhy did you pick up the phone?â
âYou know why.â
Rafeâs tone was final, leaving no room for conversation as he finished wrapping your hand and set it gently in your lap.
âThere,â he said, âAll done.â
You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you.
He was tucking you to bed, soâŚlovely, so not like the Rafe you met years ago. It made your heart hurt. No one had ever cleaned your wounds.Â
âC-Can you stay here?â
Rafe paused, turning from where he was adjusting the pillows, "I donât thinkââ
âPlease.â
Without a word, he slipped off his shoes, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body against yours, his steady heartbeat, the scent of lavender and something uniquely Rafeâit all made you feel safer than you had in a long time.
"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."
You buried your face in his chest, feeling the tears start to flow again, but this time they were tears of release, of letting go. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back, his touch tender.
He didn't say anything more, just held you. As the minutes passed, your breathing gradually slowed, matching the rhythm of his. The tension in your body began to melt away, your eyes grew heavy.Â
"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."
Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"Sleep.â
You snuggled closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, finally feeling at home.
You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the warmth of Rafeâs embrace replaced by the cold reality of the previous nightâs events. The room was dimly lit, the morning sun casting soft rays through the curtains. You sat up, your mind hazy with sleep, and glanced around, your heart sinking as you realized Rafe was nowhere to be seen.
For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, but the dried blood on your clothes, lying by the floor and the faint echo of fear told you otherwise. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.Â
Your father, the struggle, the bloodâRafeâs comforting presence.
You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life.
He was already dealing with so much because of his own father, and now you had burdened him with your problems.
You rose from the bed, the oversized sweatpants and t-shirt Rafe had given you hanging loosely on your frame. You made your way to the door, listening for any sounds that might indicate where he had gone. As you walked down the hallway, you heard a faint voice coming from the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Rafeâs voice, speaking in low, urgent tones.
You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of Rafeâs voice growing clearer with each step.
ââŚI donât care what it fucking takes,â Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. âYeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesnât get out on bail. I donât want him anywhere near her again.â
He paused, listening intently. You took a step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the kitchen counter, his phone pressed to his ear. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything youâd seen before.
âNo, sheâs fine,â he continued, âBut I want to make sure she stays that way.â
You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat. Rafe was talking about your father, and the realization hit you in the face.
He was trying to protect you, even now.
âRafeâŚâÂ
Rafe turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.
âIâll call you later." He quickly ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he approached you, âHey, youâre awake,â he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
âWhat were you doing?â you asked, âWho were you talking to?â
âHmm?â
âRafe,â You warn, too tired to play games, âWho were you talking to?â
He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up, âMy lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.â
The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.
âWhat?â
Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease.Â
"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."
"Why?"
His eyes bore into yours, a silent plea for you to understand, âBecause you need one.â
Rafe was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes as the enormity of his actions sank in.
âIâm sorry.â
He ran a hand over his face.
âMaybank, what happened last night⌠itâs not something you should ever have to deal with. I shouldâve been here sooner. I shouldâveâ"
âYou couldnât have known.â
Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.â
You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."
He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.
"I owe you everything," he murmured.Â
You let out a shaky breath, âDonât say that.â
He tilted your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, âYou think Iâd be there if it wasnât for you? Shitâ Pretty, look around. Itâs just me.â
Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.
You had spent so long building walls, convincing yourself that you didnât need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.
âYouâve been alone?â You all but sob, âYouâve been here all this time? By yourself?â
Rafeâs jaw tightened, âDonât cry. Please donât cry,â His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, the vulnerability in his voice laying his heart bare. âIâm okay, see?â
You reached up, covering his hand with yours, âI was so angry at you.â
âBabyââ
âYou donât understand,â you explained, voice cracking slightly, âI just... I didnât know what to do.â
He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly.Â
"I deserved it,â Rafe muttered, his breath warm against your ear.
You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasnât there.â
Rafeâs grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. âI was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.â
âBut I shouldâve been there for you,â you insisted, your voice breaking. âYou were trying to get better, and I just... walked away.â
âJesus Christ Maybankâ He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a groan, âStop the waterfloods, youâre gonna make me cry.â
âShut up,â You let out a genuine laugh, despite the ugly crying, ââM trying to apologizeââ
âYou donât have to, baby,â He cut you off, shaking his head, âNot to me, or anyone else.â
His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadnât felt in months.
Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didnât pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.
You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure it was real.
Youâd dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberateâŚloving. Each touch, each movement, was a reassurance, a silent promise that he was here, that he wouldnât let go.Â
As you broke apart, gasping for air, lips swollen and shining, Rafe rested his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged.
âCanât believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.â
Oh.
You blinked, caught off guard.
âIn love?â
Rafe bit his lower lip, âYeah.â
You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips.Â
"I never thought I'd fall for a kook," you teased gently, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek.
âDonât play with me,â He huffed, dropping his head against your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, âFucking hell.â
You tilted his chin up gently, meeting his gaze with sincerity, âI mean it, Cameron.â
His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty.
His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldnât get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.
His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafeâs lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with want.
âI need you,â your voice's breathless, fingers clutching at his shoulders.
He paused, lifting his head to look at you, blue eyes darken with desire.
âYouâre hurt,â he gulped, âLast nightââ
âI donât care,â you replied, shaking your head. âYou fucked me after I got shot.â
"That night was different. We were different."
You nodded, the memory of that night vivid in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, the way you had clung to each other as if you were drowning.
He hesitated for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. âI donât want to hurt you.â
âYou wonât,â you promised, pulling him back to you. âI trust you.â
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His restrain visibly slipped away as his lips found yours again as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you upstairs, to bed and then laying you down gently as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
Rafe hovered over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his shirt. You reached up, tracing the lines of his muscles, marveling at the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands working on the buttons of your shirt.
The clothes disappeared in a blur, and then it was just the two of you, skin against skin, only underwear. His hands and lips were everywhere.
âYâknow how much I missed you?â
You sighed, a smile playing at your lips as you cupped his face, âTell me.â
Rafeâs breath hitched, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desperation.
âEvery damn day. Every fucking minute. Iâd close my eyes and all I could see was you.â
His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your bodies aligning perfectly.Â
âIâm here now.â
Rafeâs lips curved into a smile against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. âYou sure youâre okay?âÂ
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, âMore than okay. I want this. I want you.â
He kissed his way down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat as they moved lower.
âI love the way you laugh," he purred against your skin, his lips trailing down your collarbone. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don't realize it."
You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."
He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.
"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."
You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.
"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. âYou matter to me.â
Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.
âI love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying."
He slid them down slowly, his eyes never leaving your face.
"Last night," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.â
You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. "I'm here," your lips brushed against his, "I'm right here."
Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."
You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."
He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperate urgency. He took his time, worshiping you with every touch, every kiss, making sure you knew exactly how much you meant to him.
His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a small smile playing at his lips.
"I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters."
He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."
You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring.Â
"Rafe, please..."
He kissed his way back up your body, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss.
"I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."
You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.â
He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.
When his mouth finally reached your core, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.
The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this.
Rafeâs grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.
He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise, intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.
Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder. The pressure built, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.
"Oh, Rafe," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He didn't.
He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.
Rafeâs mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you.
He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.
When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.
He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.
"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.
Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held himself back. He shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.
Rafeâs breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.
âAre you sure about this?â He asked again.Â
He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.
 âIâve never been more sure.â
That was all he needed.
In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.
You gasped, arching your back as he entered you slowly, his movements deliberate, and controlled.
God, you missed feeling every inch of him.Â
He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against yours. âFuck, I missed this,â he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. âDonât hold back,â you almost sobbed, your breath hot against his ear. âI want all of you.â
Rafe needed no further encouragement.
He began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and controlled. The pleasure built with every movement, the sensation of him filling you completely driving you wild. Your fingers dug into his back, your nails leaving marks as you clung to him, needing the connection.
He kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, the sensation of his lips on yours amplifying the pleasure. His hands roamed over your body, one sliding under your back to pull you closer, the other tangling in your hair, holding you in place as he devoured you. You matched his rhythm, you bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Rafeâs pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his control slipping.
His words, the sound of his voice, sent shivers down your spine.
âDon't stop, baby- Oh, fuckkk. Please, d-don't stop."
"I won't," he promised, his voice a low growl. âNever stopping."
With those words, he lost the last of his restraint, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your passion, the slap of skin against skin that made you absolute feral for him, the desperate moans and gasps of pleasure.
You didnât understand the sudden urge, but before you could think about it, you were pushing against Rafeâs chest.
âYour turn,â you murmured, flipping him onto his back with ease and straddling him.Â
He looked up at you slightly startled, hands resting on your plush hips as you settled over him and you swore he never looked prettier.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, over your tits, cupping them gently. âEvery part of you.â
You leaned down, his stubble grazing your skin, burning you most deliciously. You feel him rubbing against you, his tip touching your clit just right and you couldnât help the satisfied moan that escaped your lips. You broke the kiss, sitting up and grinding your hips against his, feeling the heat building between you again.
âYou like that?â you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers trailing down his chest.
âFuck, yes,â he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. âYou feel amazing.â
You reached between you, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him sliding back inside you was electric, drawing a gasp from both of you. You started to move, slow at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely.
Rafeâs hands roamed over your body, caressing, teasing, driving you wild. âGod, youâre perfect,â he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours. âRide me, baby. I want to see you come again.â
His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.
âFuck, Rafe,â you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. âYou feel so good inside me.â
He groaned, âYou canât be real,â his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. âThis canât be realâShit, keep doing that.â
The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.
You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafeâs hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.
âCome for me, baby,â Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. âI want to feel you come around me.â
His words pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you into ecstasy, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.
You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, spent, and completely satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your ear.
You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how loved you felt. Youâd never felt anything like this before. His heartbeat echoed against your chest.
As you started to shift to look at him, you noticed he was staring at you with an expression that caught you off guard. His eyes were wide, intense and unwavering, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.
Rafe blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. His hand reached up to gently trace your cheekbone.
"I can't believe you're real."
"Rafe..."Â
He silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. "I love you, Pretty Maybank."
"I love you too.â
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STRESS
~850 words
>After long missions Ben is obviously stressed. What else can you do if not help him?
warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! oral (m receiving), female reader but there aren't many real descriptions other than calling reader a "heroine", no usage of y/n, no proofread I'm gonna die, ben is being canonically really rough, but there's just a bit of his softer side i wish was there in canon so maybe ooc, supe!reader, reader is a second captain of payback (like starlight in the third season but no parallels between starlight & homelander and reader & soldier boy)
REBLOGS WILL BE APPRECIATED!
It hadn't been a hard day, not even a hard week, it had been going on for a hell of a long time. Everyone was on edge, even Tessa and Tommy were exhausted, and if all those missions, he filming of that stupid movie Legend had insisted on, could exhaust the twins, whose energy had always burned like dynamite, pun intended, then obviously no one had any energy at all.
People deal with stress in different ways. Some people try to abstract themselves from society - that's what Mindstorm did, and something in you told him that if he missed one more training session, then as soon as his coat even looms in Soldier Boy's peripheral vision, Dan would be dead.
Some were trying to forget themselves in training, and some were trying to beat the crap out of them in training. And you, as co-captain of this incorrigible team, as a supe who still had some humanity left in her, it was unbearably painful to watch Ben take it out on the others. But not at you, of course. Of course not at you, you were fucking special.
For instance, you were special when you sat between his legs in the meeting room.
No, don't think anything terrible, Ben wasn't the kind of man who would force a woman to do something like that, after all, he may have been a bastard, a misogynist and...a lot of other bad things, but he was a real man of his time - or at least he thought he was. In his opinion, it was much more manly to get a woman to fall at his feet - in this case, literally.
No, it's just that after he almost smashed Black Noir's head on the table during today's meeting, you had no doubt that he could use some stress relief.
And who, if not the second captain of the Payback, America's No. 1 heroine, on a par with the Statue of Liberty, could help him, America's greatest hero, become even a little more forgiving? The answer was obvious: no one. Did you do it out of fear, Stockholm syndrome, or because the only humanity left in you somehow cherished the bastard? It wasn't that important. Not now, anyway.
Not when his big hand was clutching your hair, painfully pulling back and literally slamming your head into his lap again and again. His cock slammed into your throat with a sharp and tremendous pressure, and somewhere through the veil of your own pleasure in the process you could hear his absolutely animalistic growl. Well, knowing that you could bring him to such a primitive state fueled so much pride in your chest that you obviously grew bolder.
You could grip his shaft lightly with your teeth, which made your hair pull back especially hard, forcing you to let go of his length from your mouth. You only laughed, and Ben only feigned annoyance.
And just a few moments after that, he's back to exhaling your name gutturally, stretching the "r" sound especially hard when he says you're his "good girl". And soon enough, Ben's grip on your curls tightens, and he's moving your head at an unsteady pace in pursuit of his pleasure alone. You suppress your gag reflexes, because to your great surprise, not only he likes it, but you as well. You were definitely a masochist.
His growls, guttural moans, and sloppy grunts mingled with your whimpers and the wet slapping of your face against his heated skin. How strange was it that you were ready to cum now without even touching your needy slit with your fingertips, just from the feel of his huge length in your mouth? It was probably very strange, but you didn't have that thought in your head, or any other, God, Ben had literally fucked the shit out of your brain, because all your sick mind was thinking about was his voice, his face, his hands, just fucking him. Thrust, thrust, another thrust--
He stops abruptly, apparently not wanting to end it like this. Soldier Boy lets go of your hair, pats your head approvingly (a rare sign of tenderness on his part!) and then takes up the locks again to lift your face off his still-hard cock, glistening in a mixture of pre-ejaculate and your saliva. He grins smugly, taking your chin with his finger. Judging by the fact that he's even allowed himself that smirk, some of his stress is already gone. But this is not enough.
"Get up, love. And sit on the table," he growls, lifting you off your lap as you almost hit your head on the edge of the table, and Ben lowers himself to you, pressing his lips dangerously close to yours in a scalding kiss. His lips taste gross, a mixture of expensive whiskey, weed, and smoke, but you grasp the taste with your whole life line. But before you can even open your mouth to his tongue, Ben soon pulls away, biting your bottom lip.
"I'm not going to end this with you so easily."
a/n: of course know this man is huge asshole and i hate him with all of my heart but your honor he's played by jensen ackles so he can be pardoned. idk what was the last time i written smut tbh
#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#writers on tumblr#soldier boy smut#smutty smut smut#your honor im just a girl
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henry was planned. they spent six months choosing the perfect egg donor and then another 2 months finding their perfect surrogate monica. buck planned everything down to the second. his nursery was decorated and furniture was built month four. wardrobe filled with clothes and drawers filled with diapers and other supplies by month six. he was even born on his due date - Christmas Eve.
henryâs younger sister rosie, however, was anything but planned. where henry was born from surrogacy, rosie was a safe haven baby.
buck was busy cleaning the ladder one afternoon late summer when a young girl, barely nineteen came by the firehouse. she looked so fragile and lost and she was holding the smallest baby buck thinks he has ever seen. she places the baby in his arms before dumping a diaper bag next to his feet, pleading with him to take the baby. please I canât do this, i donât have anyone to help me. I canât do this alone. please just make sure she goes to someone good.
and before buck could even think to say anything, he was alone, in the middle of the station, holding this baby girl who has the thickest head of dark hair and the sweetest button nose and he swears she lookâs exactly like tommy.
then eddie and chimney come rushing cover to figure out what the hell just happened and buck is just stood there, utterly shell shocked. chimney guides buck to the ambulance so he can check her over and noticed how bucks arms tighten around her just for a moment when he tries to reach to take the baby from him. chimney throws eddie a knowing look leading to eddie to immediately pull out his phone to call tommy bc he knows whatâs about to happen.
a few hours go by, after the baby had been given the all clear, buck was sitting on the couch with the small girl resting against his chest - waiting for CPS to come. he watches as she rests so peacefully against him, her face scrunching ever so slightly as she moved her small body before relaxing against him once more.
from the corner of his eye he could see his husband making his way up the stairs, with that look of love and fondness he wears whenever he seeâs buck with henry. he kneels down in front of him, pressing his hand on the back of the baby, rubbing small circles on her softly with his thumb and smiles because he knows.
and after applying for an emergency foster license and months of paper work and court hearings, rosie madeline buckley-kinard officially joins their family.
henryverse
#wake up henrys got a sister!!!!#bucktommy#henry buckley-kinard#rosie buckley-kinard#they are my family đŤśđť#henryverse#I just wanted some fluff bc there has been so much angst over the past few days
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WE'RE BREAKING UP
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.
WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.
GET AWAY FROM ME
hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/
anyway
Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows itâs going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving breakâitâs not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (whoâs been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if theyâre exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommyâdespite only having met him a few times, he knows heâs been good for Buck and for his dad.Â
He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.
But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because heâs not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and heâs nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.
Oh. Oh no. âWhat,â Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like heâs been physically hit.
âUh, hey!â Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced itâs painful, âHowâs Texas in November treating you?â
Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. âNot that Iâm not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.â
âYouâre right,â Buck sighs, âIâm procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.â
And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. âWhat happened?â
âWellâuhâChris, I donâtâthe details really arenât important,â Buck says, with a wince, âWhat is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy wonât be around doesnât mean you wonât have our support. Iâm really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.â
It blindsides Chris, and he doesnât know why. He shouldâve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldnât have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommyâs popcorn and talked shit on Buckâs taste in Star Wars Prequels.Â
âWhat did you do?â Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. Itâs familiar, now. He doesnât know how he knows, but he knows this is Buckâs fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.
Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. âI asked him to move in with me. It wasâit was too fastââ
âYou asked him to move in with you?â Chris balks, âHe has a house!â
âI wasnât thinking!â Buck hisses, âListen, I know I fuâmessed up. Iâm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But itâit was the best decision for both of us.â
âYouâre lying,â Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. âHe made you happy. He made dad happy.â
Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. âCall me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.â
Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesnât pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesnât want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But heâs going to miss Tommy. Heâs going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. Heâs going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.
When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:
Love you, buddy. Sorry youâre upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?
I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.
Text me pls? So I know youâre ok
Chris texts back: im fine. weâll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.
OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and youâre still mad you wonât have to see me if you donât want to
Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before theyâre fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isnât the first time that Buckâs been left this week.
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You said this happens all the time
Yeah, that's kinda the point We can't keep on doing this, doing this
Anyone in the mood for another Bucktommy fix it?
Word count: 10,611 - Exes with benefits, hurt/comfort, sexual content, exes to lovers, getting back together
Excerpt:
The first time it happened, it was three days after.
That was all Buck could think about it â after. After they crashed, after Tommy turned his back on him, after he left Buck behind. It felt familiar.
Buck took a day or two to lick his wounds and stuff his face with ice cream â because fuck keto when he just got dumped. On the third day, while digging through his closet for a shirt to wear to the gym, he found one of Tommyâs cut-off tops. The gray sweater one, the one heâd worn that day on the basketball court, that day when heâd kissed Buck and turned his world upside down.
Only to do the same thing six months later in the worst possible way.
This whole ordeal ended with Buck sitting on his bed, clutching that piece of fabric in his hands, and sobbing his broken heart out.
Once he had calmed down a little bit, heâd stared down at the top, and had several thoughts. He wanted to bury his face in it, see whether Tommyâs scent was still sticking to it. He wanted to dig his fingers into the seams and tear, tear it like Tommy had torn his heart apart. He wanted to cover the sweater and all of Tommyâs other things in flammable liquid and burn it, but he was a firefighter to the core, so he didnât even fully finish that thought process. Heâd probably burn his loft down on top of it.
What he ended up doing was look for all the other things Tommy had at his place â clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, his fancy shampoo and conditioner, that brand of coffee he liked â and put it in a cardboard box.
He had half the mind to just text Eddie and have him drop it off, but in the end, he gathered all the spite he could muster and pulled up his text thread with Tommy.
He hadnât changed Tommyâs name in his phone yet, the red heart Buck had put next to his name now here to mock him.
The last message was from that night, a simple Leaving now â¤ď¸.
How had they gone so wrong?
He took a deep breath, collected his courage, and typed out a message to Tommy.
Got some stuff for you to pick up. Whenâs a good time?
[continue on ao3]
#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan#kinley#evan buckley#tommy kinard#harmonic posts#harmonic writings#how many different style of fic posts can i make? all of them!
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Okay listen, I get that I have little experience in the 9-1-1 fandom, but what in the actual hell is the weird response to the bucktommy breakup? It was never this weird with other love interest breakups right? Of Buckâs love interests, Abby and Taylor were the only ones developed enough to warrant any sort of strong reaction. Tommy had no development.
Seriously. What did we know about him?:
Heâs gay. Heâs a pilot. He has a history of sexism and racism. He likes basketball and Muay Thai. AndâŚ.? We saw nothing of his personal life, we saw little of his personality, and we didnât see him and Buck actually power through any obstacles. Because that was the point, he was a plot device. It was painfully obvious he wasnât going to be a lasting love interestâŚwas it not? I donât mean how little he was developed (because obviously that dev couldâve been done), but because of how HEAVILY Eddie haunted the narrative. Bucktommyâs first kiss genuinely shocked the hell out of me and my casual viewer sis-in-law because both of us felt it was obvious that Buck was trying to get Eddieâs attention. (seriously, that whole scene with Eddie on the phone in the firehouse and Buck peacocking to try and get Eddieâs attentionâŚThat was fucking obvious. I got a bruise from how hard that smacked me in the face.)
I realize Iâm a buddie shipper so I am biased, but Iâm a buddie shipper BECAUSE that is what the narrative has led me to. However, when Tommy was reintroduced, I made an actual effort to like him. I tried not to engage with the Buddie majority that hated him because I wanted to see if my mind could be changed, and ya know what? All it did was make me believe that thereâs literally nobody else that they can end up with. Whether it was accidental on the writerâs part or purposeful, Buck and Eddie have been written into a romantic corner with only one way out, and thatâs through each other. (Unless they somehow introduce two love interests that can beat a 7-season long slow burn friends-to-lovers with insanely good late bloomer queer representation. lol.)
Iâm genuinely trying to understand though. How are people going this insane over Tommy? What exactly did he do that was so fantastic and amazing that he deserved undying loyalty? The kind of loyalty that sparks people to write weird fucking messages on Oliverâs instagram about him being biphobic(???????) and then making jokes about deporting him and Ryan. What the fuck.
I could maybe understand the outrage if it was a character who was well developed and beautifully written (like Chimney or Hen), and I could even see it if it was a beloved side character (like Ravi or May), but. seriously. Tommy?
Anyway, normally I would say âeh who am I to judge what people get attached to?â But in this case I am a little bit judgmental.
#ooh is this gonna get me blocked? was I too mean?#I started this off trying not to be aggressive but I think by the end I was still aggressive#oops#I donât fucking play about biphobia though#and Oliver has been NOTHING but respectful about queer rep#yall are freaking out over a boringggg plot device character PLEASE be serious#911 abc#911#buddie#anti bucktommy#rant post
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So Iâm split 50/50 on this at this point. Because we donât have crystal clear answers on ANYTHING, and there is a part of me thatâs like âleaning into the trope actually makes sense for everything else theyâve done with this storyâ. But then obviously the interviews are so ass backwards, and and andâŚ
Louâs answers also arenât crystal. He said he was back at SWAT, which he quite literally is right now, so itâs not like he said it and he went back weeks later to shoot SWAT. His answers about âopportunitiesâ isnât clear either because working actors by nature, always have opportunities. We have no idea if 911 includes those opportunities (based on my theory of this being a fake out, I mean).
I will say though. When rewatching the breakup from the understanding that Buck is very starry-eyed and âlook at you, you magnificent Gay Manâ, the breakup is easily understood for me. I vibe with @spectres-fulcrumâs theory. It actually makes a SHIT ton of sense. Further, Iâm not gonna lie⌠if someone told me they wanted to take the next step in a relationship (and that step was moving in together), but I Love You hadnât even been said⌠Iâd be checking for a fever. It unfortunately comes across as not understanding the seriousness of the suggestion. Like obvs our little shipper hearts were smashed when Tommy was like ânot only can I not live with you, but itâs unlikely that Iâm the person youâll choose to stay withâ. When you couple the fear with the reasonability of what heâs actually saying, it makes sense.
This is why Iâve said that at its core, if the people writing the story have a brain and didnât just throw shit at the wall (which will remain to be seen), there has to be a come to Jesus moment about their feelings for one another. Buck has to address whether he actually loves Tommy or if he was just along for the ride because Tommy made everything so easy. (I feel like we as the viewers know theyâre in love, but it has to be expressed. And then there needs to be some level of effort in the story where Tommy is pulled into the fold.
I say all that (again) to point out that if this is NOT what the show is doing, and they just split them up because they thought it would make good drama (or some other shitty excuse)⌠thatâs not just dropping the ball. Thatâs proverbially shitting the bed. And if thatâs actually the case⌠imma see my way out (probably).
So yes, I hold out hope that everything weâve been told over the past week is to keep us distracted. But I also know that when I reread those same quotes and rewatched the breakup with a clear head (and not from my shipper standpoint), things felt clearer.
In closingâŚ. They did still massively fumble the way they were trying to communicate the issues in the relationship. This was not done well by any stretch of the imagination. But weâll see what they settle on doing next.
ngl if it turns out that Tommy was coming back all along and that this was all part of the romcom âbreaking up then making upâ trope iâm gonna be so embarrassed for getting this sad đ but thatâs what i get for catching up with a series for once ig
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Tommy with a headache being pampered by Buck. Maybe featuring a purring old rescue cat with the dumbest possible name you can come up with.
Okay, dear. I hope this works for you. đ
Buckâs just pulling the laundry out of the dryer when his phone goes off in his pocket. Straightening, he pulls it out and sees itâs a text from Lucy.
Hey, you may wanna come get your boy. Heâs got a migraine and is pretending he doesnât.
Damn. Buck had thought Tommy looked a little off this morning, but heâd insisted he was fine, just tired. Figures heâd have a migraine coming on. He doesnât get them often, but when he does, theyâre a doozy.
On my way, he texts back. He doesnât even bother changing out of his sweatpants and hoodie heâs actually pretty sure is Tommyâs. He doesnât know anymore, since moving in together, their clothes have become mixed with no room to figure it out. He tells Nugget to behave as he walks out the door.
He gets to Harbor forty-five minutes later to see Tommy leaning against a wall, still in his LAFD pants and t-shirt. Buck would take a second to stare at his arms if he didnât look so miserable. Lucy waves at him from where she seems to be holding Tommy up while also nudging Tommy in the shoulder. When he looks up at Buck, he manages a smile but Buck can see his face is pinched in pain and heâs squinting in the sunlight. He grabs the extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment and hops out.
âHey baby,â he says sympathetically as he gently fits the sunglasses over Tommyâs eyes. âDid you feel this bad this morning?â
âIt kind of started this morning,â Tommy admits. âBut I hoped it wouldnât get worse.â
âYou so stubborn,â he says, rolling his eyes at Lucy who matches it with a smirk. âCome on, letâs get you home and into bed.â
Tommy goes without argument, or even snarky comment about being coddled, so Buck knows he must feel like shit.
Once theyâre home, he gently pulls Tommy out of the jeep and gets him into the house, sitting him on the end of the bed.
âDo you want pajamas?â Buck asks softly, knowing loud noises can make it worse.
âNo,â Tommy says. âClothes off.â
âOkay,â Buck answers. He helps Tommy gets out of his t-shirt and pants, leaving him in only boxer briefs and as Tommy lays back against the pillows, Buck rushes around and closes all the blinds in the room. âCool compress at least?â
âYeah,â Tommy whispers, though Buck can see the pain in his face lightening a little as the room darkens. âThat would be good.â
Buck leans down and kisses his forehead before going into the en-suite bathroom to dampen a washcloth. Working his way back into the bedroom, he places it gently on Tommyâs forehead just as Nugget hops on the bad.
âHey, bud,â Buck says to the ancient cat. Theyâve worked up a tentative truce since he moved in, but the cat is definitely devoted to his person.
He watches as Nugget curls up against Tommyâs side as Tommy curls a hand on the catâs stomach, giving him a little scritch.
Buck smiles, leans down and kisses his forehead again. âGet some rest.â
âMmm, where you goinâ,â Tommy mutters.
âI was gonna go finish the laundry,â Buck answers, running a hand through his hair. âI kind of left it all in the laundry room.â
âLay with me,â Tommy says and thereâs a tiny note of pleading in his voice and damn, this man has him wrapped around his finger.
âOkay,â Buck whispers. He settles in on the other side so he and Nugget are bracketing him and Tommy sighs contentedly.
âLove you,â Tommy says as he drifts off and Buck smiles.
âLove you too.â
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Weekly Recap | November 4th-10th 2024
I think we can all agree that last week was a bit of a rollercoaster? đ At least we still have our emotional support gay firefighter show â¤ď¸
(as always, if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!)
Complete
Good Luck Babe by jesuisici33/ @jesuisici33 (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 1K | Teen): Buck nods. His own face still has that kicked puppy look. But he manages a smile. Even sad, Buckâs smiles light his face up. Eddie thinks he could never get tired of Buckâs smiles. âWhy did you shave it off? I need a distraction. A happy one.â âIâm working on no longer denying myself fruit juice.â Itâs Buckâs turn to open and close his mouth in confusion. âOâŚkay? I donât know what that means.â
watch you win, watch you cry by wenttoafortuneteller (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | Teen): Buck lets out a long, tired sigh and admits: âTommy broke up with me.â âOh,â Eddie says. He makes a conscious effort not to smile.
your shoulders brush (no proof, one touch) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): âItâs not funny,â Buck whines. âI just thoughtâ we haveâ were having a good time together. And heâs been so great through the whole figuring myself out, he made me feel so, um, so secure in my sexuality, you know?â âWell, youâre not any less bisexual if youâre not dating him,â Eddie shrugs. âSo I guess he didnât feel the same way, then?â âKind of?â Buck turns on the couch and pulls one of his legs up. His knee nudges Eddieâs thigh, and Eddie is suddenly very aware that heâs not wearing pants.
ode to a conversation by markofalover/ @markofalover (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together 3K | Explicit): âHe was right to break it off, becauseâJosh asked if I thought about him when he wasnât around, and if his concerns and happiness were important to me, if I saw a future, and, Eddie, Iââ âBuck,â Eddie cuts through again, and this time Buck listens. Closes his mouth and stares at him with big blue eyes, and Eddie. Eddieâs heart is in his mouth. Itâs right in front of him. âCome here.â
Itâs Always Been You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, Getting Together, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie travel to Texas to pick up Chris and run into some issues, all leading to them finally getting together.
ode to joy by signetsealed/ @gayeddieagenda (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 3K | Explicit): âOkay,â Buck says. "Let's do that.â Eddie frowns. âDo what? Dance?â âSure,â Buck says. âThat, or whatever else you were thinking of doing. We canâŚbe joyful.â
i must confess, iâm in love with my own sins by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (S8E6: Confessions Spec | 3K | Teen): âI just want it to be easy, you know? I donât want to have to think about if Iâm acting the right way or saying the right thing. I just want to have a-a person. I want someone that wants to stand next to me. I want to know someone is always gonna pick me, no matter what, theyâll have my back. Like how it is withââ he stops short. Buck, he almost says. Like how it is with Buck. â Eddie goes to confession and has a few revelations.
lock me down tonight by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (PWP, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): Buck grabs the bathroom door, but freezes before he can open it more than an inch. Because Eddie is in the shower, but heâs not crying. Eddie is standing with one arm braced against the tiled wall, turned away from the door. The shower spray cascades over his muscled back and the curve of his ass. His other hand is wrapped around his cock.
"What the fuck, make your move." by dylaesthetics (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 4K | Explicit): When Buck smashes their mouths together, Eddie forgets how to breathe. Then, he isnât all that interested in basic human necessities such as that. He thinks, at the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs instead lie Kissing Buck, Making Buck moan, and Trying not to come in my briefs. ~ OR Eddie is Buck's last.
Thankful for You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, BT Break-Up, Pre-Buddie): The one where Buck plans Thanksgiving dinner at his place and then breaks up with his boyfriend.
Take The Bitter With The Sweet by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Ravi POV, Gettign Together | 5K | Teen): No one thought to brief Ravi on the Buckley-Diaz situation when he finally joins the 118. Spoiler, it goes about as well as a car crash.
first and last by hispolestar (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 6K | Explicit): And suddenly, like Eddie summoned him, Buck is standing in front of his door. Eddieâs not sure if this indicates that God is real, because He saw Eddieâs quest for joy, or if itâs just Evan Buckley. Itâs probably the latter.
The Only Truth by phdmama/ @phdmama (Magic AU, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie says, âI fucking hate you.â At least, thatâs what Eddie intends to say, because he means it, in that moment he absolutely means it, having just watched Buck rappel four stories down a burning building and hit the ground eight seconds ahead of the roof caving in. What comes out instead is, âI fucking love you.â Luckily, just as he had opened his mouth, the roof had, in fact, collapsed, which caused a lot of commotion and noise and whatnot, and Eddieâs words, his very strange and unintended words, get lost in the mayhem. Huh, Eddie thinks as his body moves on autopilot, racing across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. That was weird.
a night in early october by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 6K | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.
sweet talk with a hint of sin by justhockey (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together, PWP | 7K | Explicit): He doesnât want to stop; he doesnât even want to slow down. He wants this, here, for the rest of his life. And heâs past wondering if he deserves it, past thinking he isnât good enough for a man like Buck, past being scared of the love that lives inside of him. He wants Buck selfishly, wants him greedily, and if heâs willing to give himself over to Eddie, then Eddie isnât a selfless enough man to say no. He isnât strong enough to deny himself such joy. âNeed you,â Eddie begs. âPlease, Buck. Please.â
said that i was fine, said it from my coffin by justhockey (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Buck leans in so close that Eddie can feel his breath on his cheek when he asks, âHey, are you sure youâre alright?â âIâm fine,â Eddie lies. And it doesnât matter that he feels like heâs dying. Like the version of himself that heâs always been is suddenly a stranger to him - just a mask heâd spent his entire life hiding behind, without ever even realising he was wearing it. It doesnât matter that Eddie isâŚthat heâs gay. Because he knows - as surely as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow - that the only person he has ever, and will ever, truly love is Buck. And Buck isnât his to love.
donât mention any other name (that doesnât sound like mine) by bandshirts (Post-S7, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): Or, Eddie flirts with a man at a gay bar. Buck is totally normal about it. (Spoiler: heâs not.)
so only say my name (it will be held against you) by bandshirts (Post-7x04, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Or, Buck accidentally says Eddieâs name during sex, figures out some things about himself, and finally gets the right guy this time.
WIP
wicked dreams by hispolestar (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 3/9 | 14K | Explicit): Eddieâs trouble starts with a dream. Well, it actually starts much earlier, when he runs into a woman who is the literal carbon copy of his dead wife. Or, alternatively it starts with a lightning bolt. Or a sniper. Or a firetruck. Or a car crash. Or, realistically, a grenade embedded in a seventh-grade teacherâs leg. It starts with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a tenacity that shocks Eddie to his very core. But right now, Eddieâs trouble starts with a dream. ~ Eddie, alone and confused, is navigating Christopher's extended stay in Texas, while also grappling with feelings he's been repressing for seven years. Buck, who misses Chris dearly, is struggling under Gerrard and his boyfriend's dismissive attitude. In the wreckage of their lives, they find each other.
I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 5/? | 10K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committedâŚ" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.
Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 7/? | 44K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.
& such by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (81K | Teen): prompts and spec fics and codas and all the works jumbled mumbled into one place.
Chapter 20: GAY EDDIE REAL (1K)
Podfic
đĽ[podfic] a night in early october by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy // fic by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 30-45min | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.
Re-read
woke up the girl who looked just like you, i almost said your name by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (S5, Out Eddie, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Eddie dates a guy a little too similar to Buck, and one time he dates the real deal.
#buddie#buddie fanfiction#buddie fic rec#epic buddie fic rec#buddie fanfic#buddie fic#i'm quickly approaching 300 writers/podficcers recced since the beginning of this blog!!!
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Breaks my heart how evil they are to them. I know they're grown men and can handle it and all but they shouldn't have to! Oliver has been so respectful and put so much care into playing buck. He's always been honest about this story being about BUCK, not tommy, and that nobody should be ringing wedding bells
The fact that even the 911 account isn't posting anything because bt fans flood things with hate... and we know oliver sees this shit, he even shut down his comments and DMs. It makes me so fucking sad. We're so close to exploring this beautiful story we've been waiting for and they ruin it over someone who was hired for 4 episodes??
No same the level of care and respect that Oliver has had has been unreal
I say this as a bisexual
I donât think Iâve ever seen a presumably straight actor handle a queer storyline with this level of respect and understanding
And unlike their fav he hasnât done it for fame or money or popularity
He has stood up for buck and buckâs bisexuality in cases he didnât have to
He didnât have to correct that reporter he didnât have to make statements in his Instagram calling out bigots he didnât have to show all this love understanding and excitement for bucks bi arc but he did it even when itâs put him in the firing line and heâs done it with words so well crafted you can tell he fully understands his character and also what bisexuality means to his character
Ik I make jokes but Iâm not saying this in a parasocial way- truth is we never know what these actors or famous people are really like- but we still have to recognise good behaviour and the way he has handled this storyline does not elicit the hate and claims of biphobia against him in the least and itâs honestly sad that he has done everything right and is still receiving this from assholes who genuinely do not care or understand what biphobia is
Just because they canât distinct what the story has been telling them AT EVERY FUCKING TURN and how Oliver tried over and over not to get their hopes up AT EVERY FUCKING TURN and what they built up in their head sometimes with the help of a man after their money. Itâs ridiculous
Like not only did he have to turn off comments and DMs he also made a response apparently and probably second guessed himself and deleted it:
And everything he said both here and the interview I stand by, good bi rep doesnât have to be only fucking if theyâre your committed partner yâall are over correcting
Also the claims of biphobia - yâall learn nothing about not assuming sexualities or making these claims huh?
Well at least theyâre consistent- when threatened they pretend anything and everything is somehow homophobia cos I (a bisexual ) have been called homophobic so many times by bt fans itâs insane
Rant over cos this is super long but they better leave Oliver stark alone cos that man genuinely doesnât deserve this shite
#911#buddie#911 abc#evan buckley#911 fox#911onfox#eddie diaz#evan buck buckley#anti bucktommy#anti tommy kinard#asks#oliver stark
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