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moonlight-prose · 2 days ago

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“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedrostories #my writing

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piratefalls · 1 day ago

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imagine for a second that buck didn't stay frozen. that instead of staying trapped in the i'll see you around, buck of it all, he ran out after tommy instead. that he sees tommy in the elevator, the doors starting to close, and runs. that he gets there just in time to slide a hand between the doors, step inside, let them close behind him, and pull the emergency stop button. he looks at tommy, catches the tears shining in his eyes, the way he's starting to fold in on himself, and starts talking.

that he tells tommy it's his turn to listen. that tommy doesn't get to make unilateral decisions about this relationship, because they're supposed to communicate with each other, a thing they're obviously not as good at as he thought they were. that he acknowledges that he jumped the gun, skipped more than a few steps, and he owns that. concedes that maybe he will break tommy's heart one day, but there could also very well be a future ahead of them where no one's heart gets broken, and wouldn't he rather they try for that than give up now? buck is here, asking tommy not to leave, because he wants every little scrap tommy is willing to give him, every shattered piece of himself that tommy thinks can't be mended. that buck wants to do the same for him, wants to show him every scar, every bruise, every hurt that brought him to this moment because he loves him, and he thinks tommy loves him, too, and saying as much is where he should have started earlier. so could they please, please, just go back to the loft so they can have a real conversation about what they each need to make this work?

he reaches out a hand, heart racing as he waits for tommy to take it. feels a tiny glimmer of hope take root in his chest when thick, calloused fingers tangle with his.

#kelly watches 911 #bucktommy #tevan #not buck pulling an “I'm just a boy standing in front of another boy asking him to come back inside” moment #idk I'm tired and thinking about Them again

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alchemistc · 3 days ago

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Harry twirls a lock of dark curls between his fingers. Tips his chin against Tommy's head and stares up at the ceiling. He considers not asking, this time.

The sex is good, and Tommy's funny, and if he closes his eyes he could imagine there could be something - Tommy twitches and shifts his hand lower like he might be gearing up for another round, and it breaks the fantasy. That's new.

"Tell me about him," Harry says, and Tommy's eyes tip up to glare at Harry.

"Making an assumption, there," Tommy warns, but Harry just raises an eyebrow. Six years of this and Harry knows better than to expect Tommy would show up at his door for any reason other than to get his mind off of something - someone else.

"So we're both asses," Harry intones. He needs to call the super, see what they'll do about the water stain on his ceiling. "Tell me about him."

Tommy sighs. Twists, drifts away to the second pillow, and Harry's done this enough times not to mourn the loss, exactly. It's not like he's ever told Tommy -

"He's too young. Impulsive. New."

Harry fails to hold in his snort. "Okay."

Tommy at 34 had been a fucking hurricane. Newly out, no holds barred, he'd jumped right into the deep end and let the storm whirl him around. They'd been friends, for the first six months, Harry a watchful presence while Tommy made it his mission to be more than the guy in the dark corner getting a risky blowie fifteen minutes before last call. To be out - not loud, that wasn't Tommy's style - but to at least be himself.

He'd lasted two months in a real, actual relationship before he'd shown up at Harry's door with a six pack and a box of condoms.

"He looks at me and sees this - cool suave guy -" Harry shifts, nearly interrupts because that guy is exactly what Tommy projects, even if he doesn't mean to. Fucking Scorpios. "- and I was falling for him."

Yeah. Harry can extrapolate from that. Tommy fell ass over tea kettle and then got spooked.

"He's just so fucking open with himself. No brainworm goes untouched, and he can't hide his emotions for shit, and he's so goddamn stubborn and so goddamn ready to bulldoze through every hurdle ahead without looking back at the damage, and..." Tommy trails off. One hand shifts down to hitch the duvet up over his hips, and Harry adds the duvet cover to his list of laundry. "I gave him too many chances to slow down on his own."

"What, did the kid ask you to marry him or something?"

"He's the Himbo," Tommy retorts, and it takes Harry a moment to make the connection. He whistles through his teeth just to watch the scowl fall into place on Tommy's face. "And the connection freaked him out so much he asked me to move in. To his bachelor pad loft." Harry waits. "It has two balconies, Harry. Two."

"...he knows you have a mortgage, right?"

Tommy shoves at his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. We're just - the timing wasn't right."

"Did you want it to be?"

That's always the thing he ends up hung up on, in Harry's experience. Tommy's scared out of his mind to be the right person at the wrong time. Always has been. There's probably some mommy or daddy issues hidden in there somewhere he hasn't explored. Tommy's eyes drift up to the water stain. "Don't these apartments all have the same layout?"

This is the shove-off. This is his hint not to push. "Yes, and I really don't want to ask how the upstairs neighbor flooded their bedroom. Back to the guy." He's never been one for acknowledging unspoken cues.

"Buck," Tommy says, and the name sounds harsh in his mouth.

"Buck," Harry repeats, and pictures Tommy's usual type - tall, light-eyed, more smiles than common sense. There was always something distinctive, too - freckles, a scar, weird shaped ears.

"I miss him."

It doesn't hurt the way it had those first few years, when Harry was convinced that eventually Tommy would see him as more than a friend to blow off steam with. Still. There's a twinge there, beneath his rib cage.

"So stop missing him. That's an option, isn't it?"

And Tommy does that thing - that frustrating, enchanting thing, where his whole body seems to hold the emotion flickering across his face. "I walked out on him. I dug the damn knife in just to make sure he wouldn't try to convince me to stay."

"Would you have? Stayed?"

Tommy's quiet. The sweat has cooled on his skin, and the lights coming in through his window dance across the skin of his shoulder, his chest, that stupid thick neck of his.

The phone he left on the bedside table is dark, but that doesn't stop Tommy's gaze flicking to it.

"Cards on the table, Tommy?" Harry sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose. "Once upon a time, I convinced myself you were it for me. That I'd be satisfied with what you gave me, and I wouldn't ask for more. I cut you out of my life for eight months when I realized how fucking dumb that was."

Tommy frowns. Harry hadn't really ever expected him to notice.

"I've seen you through shitty relationships, and one sided ones. I've heard all the bullshit you and Greg put each other through. I've been there for every fucking heartache."

And he'd offered up his body like it was absolution for always being fucking thrilled when a relationship ended.

"You called me Evan," Harry murmurs, and Tommy's eyes go wide. That's never fucking happened before. This thing wouldn't have lasted nearly as long if he'd ever heard another man's name in his bed before. "You should shower. Go home. Take a day or two, if you need it. But I know for a fact you wait this shit out, justify coming to me with time and space from whatever guy has you strung out. I know it's been a minute already, and I know you've never sounded so unsure about cutting someone loose."

Tommy's gaze flicks to him.

"Whatever it is that's got you so scared of this guy, figure it the fuck out. Because it sounds to me like you fell fast and hard and hit a fucking wall before you ever thought to tap the brakes. That's not fair to you or him. Call him. Text him. Show up at his door with a bouquet or an industrial size bottle of lube and figure your shit out. Together."

Tommy stares at him for a long, long time in silence.

"Them's the brakes, huh?"

Harry hates that he knows exactly what Tommy means. Still, he clarifies. "This is your forever guy." Six years of watching him flail and learn and grow and hurt and love and fuck. He knows a thing or two about Tommy and his flights of romance. Knows this lonely man has never sounded quite so lonely before. "You don't need me, anymore."

He's quiet as his eyes drift back up to the stain. "I'm not his forever guy." Harry can't actually refute that, considering he's never met the guy. But he knows Tommy. Knows exactly how captivating he can be. Knows Tommy's a sucker for that starry-eyed look that so often has meant not love, as Tommy reads it, but idolization. "What if I'm not his forever guy?"

Harry digs toes into the spot in the duvet where Tommy's knees should be. He shifts Tommy about half a millimeter. "He has a nickname you don't call him except when you're punishing yourself. He dated Abby and that shared history didn't scare him off. You'd never let yourself fall for a guy that wasn't throwing clear signs that it was serious. I'd put my odds on him doing something weird and wholesome every time he thinks about you until his entire two balcony loft is filled with trinkets or treats and he still can't get you off his mind."

Harry's never seen Tommy's face do that before. Not in the throes of a honeymoon phase and not in the worst of a bad breakup. It's some awful mixture between unbridled hope and abject despair.

Harry thinks it's probably fair to hate him a little, for that face. He's earned the right.

"If he kicks you to the curb, I'll take you to one of those expensive wine tastings you pretend to hate, and I'll let you drink all my samples too." It's not an idle promise. Tommy may pretend to hate it but Harry fucking loves wine tastings. "If he doesn't..." Harry shoots him a fond look, "...knowing your type I'm not invited to the wedding anyway, so I guess then I'd been seeing you around."

Something shadows his gaze for a moment, but he's quick to hide it, to smack Harry on the chest like they've just had a good game, to shift out of bed and into his briefs before Harry can blink. He doesn't love Tommy. Not the way he'd have liked to, years and years ago. Still, when Tommy shoots him the dorkiest finger guns known to man and scoops up the rest of his clothes to take to the bathroom with him, Harry still wonders what it's like to have him enough to love him fully.

---

The name catches him off guard every time he hears it. 'Evan' isn't hard to filter - Evan had been a popular enough name to immediately write it off but Buck wasn't white noise of a name

Buck was a character in a movie, an old grizzled war vet, a dog. The name Buck wasn't popular enough not to hear it every time it was so much as whispered in his direction.

The coffee shop isn't crowded, but it's not dead either. When the girl at the counter calls out an order for Buck, sliding three cups down the counter, Harry can't help but look up.

A tall broad shouldered hulk of a man smiles a dimpled smile at the barista, and Harry watches him palm two cups and grab the third one in one practiced move. He's cute, Harry thinks. Maybe his grandpa ordered, Harry thinks, a little harder, and then caves, following his path through the three-tops littering the lobby.

Harry catches sight of him without being noticed. He's grinning, one of those rare earnest ones that make his ears rise and his face crinkle like a Shar Pei, hand spread out over something lying open on the table. The little girl on the seat to his right is a surprise, but Harry hasn't spoken to Tommy in two years. Maybe he's had enough time to get his mind around the idea that he's nothing like his father. The girl responds to something Tommy says by palming at as much of his face as she can reach and turning to the man now approaching their table.

"Uncle Buck!" he catches, another firm tug at the part of his brain that's been stuck on this for too long. The man barely gets all three drinks on the table before the girl is launching herself up into his arms, and it's too late for Harry to turn away without notice. Tommy's gaze shifts across the room and lands right on him.

He looks like he might wave Harry over, and Harry would rather die than know whether Tommy would introduce him as an old friend, or by name like Buck should know it. He tips a smile Tommy's way. Raises a brow at the man - Buck - and gets lips being sucked behind teeth in response, and then a slow, subtle head tilt.

Good. Good for him. Harry's never wanted anything for Tommy but to see him incandescently happy.

Witnessing it from a distance is better.

Buck twirls his - niece? - flops her back down on the bench seat next to Tommy and bends to say something that includes a pinky promise. He's got a wine-dark stain just above his brow, and Harry can't quite hide the tip of his smile.

Harry's name rings in his ears as he picks up his drink, and he's halfway to the door, feeling proud of himself for not turning back, when he hears the chorus of three laughs erupting from the corner where he'd taken his last good look.

He'd seen the ring on insta, a week and a half ago. Just an uncaptioned picture of two bands balanced one over the other on a rock, a killer sunset sky blurry behind them. No tags. 102 likes and counting.

Harry pushes through the doors and only glances through the window to watch Tommy tip his head back in laughter for a second, before he's cleared the coffee shop and rounded the corner back to his office.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #tommy + omc #outsider pov

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freewayshark · 3 days ago

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Thinking about Buck going out and fucking a dozen different people, having so many unsatisfying orgasms because they aren’t what he wants or with who he wants them with. He thought it felt bad when he tried to go back to casual sex after Abby but it turns out that had nothing on how he feels now. Nobody fucks him just right, nobody chokes on his cock just right, nobody moans his name just right, and that last one he can try to tell himself is because they arent moaning the right name, but he knows even if he’d introduced himself as Evan they’d still sound wrong.

And in a moment of weakness he seeks Tommy out, desperate for one good fuck after dozens of bad ones, and he tells him exactly all the ways no one’s compared to Tommy, getting closer and closer to tears with every word he says, until finally he stops, takes a breath, and with a cracking voice he says “No one loves me like you do.”

#bucktommy

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dadbodbuck · 2 days ago

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could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #kinkley

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megalony · 3 days ago

Text

A Medical Emergency

Here is a new Dad! Evan Buckley imagine I had an idea for after watching the new season. I hope you will all like this.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Evan's son isn't well he comes down to the station for help. The team try and keep him out the way of their new Captain; Gerrard doesn't like family visits. And Evan starts to argue with him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't do this."

With a shake of his head, Evan clenched the cloth in his fist until the material felt like it was starting to fall apart at the seams and the threads became stuck between his fingers. He could feel his insides bubbling up with frustration and it was making the blood thunder to his face and pool beneath the surface.

He couldn't carry on like this. Evan couldn't continue under this insolant man's reign of terror. He had no idea how Hen, Chimney and Tommy had lasted so long when Gerrard used to be in charge. He couldn't fathom how they had managed to hold their tongues and do as they were told when Gerrard felt the need to be so cruel and needlessly harmful to them.

After the first week, Evan was ready to throw hands. Three months in and he was about to explode.

"Come on, Buck. Head down, do the job and head home." Eddie patted his hand against Evan's shoulder, but it didn't do much good.

"It's not the work, I can handle scrubbing the toilet until I can see my reflection, I don't care what job he makes me do anymore. It's the way he speaks to everyone. I 'pout' and I'm insubordinate. He's harassing us and that's sweet-talk."

It was Gerrard's mannerism and his snide remarks that Evan couldn't handle. He couldn't cope with hearing their Captain degrade every single person because he felt it made him better than them.

He constantly beat down any ideas they had but then took the credit for himself. He told them whatever they did wasn't good enough. He was racist. He was sexist and homophobic and there was nothing they could do to stop him from making remarks to them all because no one listened. The amount of complaints they put in against him didn't do a thing because the Chief seemed to think they were ganging up to break the ranks.

Nothing worked, and Evan couldn't cope.

Twisting his head from left to right, Harvey timidly looked around the environment that had become a second home to him over the years. He scoured his eyes around the station, searching high and low for the one person he wanted to see.

While his hands raked up and down his exposed arms with his elbows pinned into his waist and his forearms imbedding into his stomach like he was trying to apply enough pressure to feel his insides. He could feel his nails puncturing through the skin on his arms and it gave him that satisfying burn as he dragged them up and down his arms, raking flakes of skin beneath his nails along with small droplets of blood.

His tired eyes finally latched onto someone familiar and he tried his best to smile, despite the overall unease rattling through him.

"Uncle Chim." His head twinged to the right when a jolt ran down his neck and he winced, hissing at the feeling of his pulse throbbing in his neck. He could feel a nerve twitching down his neck and it felt like his veins were all trying to jump out of his skin.

"Hey kid. What- uh, what're you doing here?" Chimney hurriedly glanced his eyes around the station before he jogged over to his nephew.

This wasn't a good idea.

Since the moment Gerrard had replaced Bobby as Captain, no family or friends had come down to the station on visits. When Bobby was in charge, families were welcomed and encouraged to stop by, especially if they needed anything or there was some kind of emergency.

But with Gerrard in charge, they were all told to abstain from the station. Even taking phone calls was hard for the team with their Captain watching every move they made.

Evan didn't let his family come by the station now Gerrard was in charge, and Chimney didn't want the Captain to see the thirteen year old here. He wouldn't put it past Gerrard to try and talk to Harvey and make him uncomfortable or say something he shouldn't to him.

"Where's dad?" Harvey did another sweep of the station before he dropped his hands from his arms and moved to scratch the side of his neck instead.

He could feel his heart skipping a beat or two, adding palpitations into his rhythm that was becoming unbalanced. He needed to see his dad. He needed to talk to him. Harvey knew he had been told not to swing by the station for a while, but he needed help and his dad always said to find him if he needed anything.

Chimney glanced around while his hands gripped his hips. He couldn't see Evan anywhere, and he wasn't sure where he had scuttled off to after mopping the floors for a third time this shift.

"He's here somewhere. You okay?" When he glanced down to Harvey's exposed arms, he found himself frowning and taking a step closer. His arms were scratched to ribbons; again.

"I need dad."

Harvey's head ticked to the right again when he felt his pulse jump and he ground his teeth together, hissing while he stomped his foot against the polished floor. He didn't feel well. He needed to find and talk to his dad. He needed someone to help him.

"Let's go find him." Reaching out, Chimney looped his arm around Harvey's shoulders and reeled his nephew under his arm while he guided him further into the station. Hopefully he could get him to Evan without Gerrard spotting them and making a big scene out of this.

Harvey gripped the bag on his shoulder and aimed his head down as they walked. He let his uncle steer him in the right direction, being led hopefully towards his dad.

Chimney tilted his head back and pointed towards the locker room ahead when he saw both Eddie and Evan who looked like they were in the middle of a rather heated debate. But he stopped dead in his tracks when an all too familiar sight caught his attention to the left. Gerrard walking down the stairs.

The Captain hadn't spotted them yet and Chimney used that to his advantage. His hands moved to Harvey's shoulders and he quickly pushed the young boy ahead of him and steered him into the locker room to the point Harvey was tripping over his feet and his head started to spin.

"Chim-"

Evan felt his heart drop to his stomach when he looked between Eddie and Chimney before his eyes latched onto his son.

Why was Harvey here? Why was he at the station when Evan specifically told (Y/n) and the kids they couldn't come down here? He made it clear he didn't want them around Gerrard, even if he didn't specifically tell Harvey that the new Captain was an ass. He didn't want his boy to worry, but he certainly didn't want him around Gerrard either.

"Harvey, what are you doing here?" The stern tone in Evan's voice made Harvey cringe and push back into Chimney.

He glanced his eyes between them all before he looked up at his dad with unease in his eyes that were on the verge of watering. He watched his dad look to the watch strapped to his wrist before frowning at him.

"You should be at basketball practice-"

"Dad, it… it's happening again."

Evan's shoulders dropped and he looked through the glass to try and see if Gerrard was around. He would come straight into the locker room if he knew that they were all in here and he thought they were gossiping or coming up with ideas instead of doing whatever task he assigned to them. Evan did not want Gerrard coming in here and talking to Harvey.

He looked at Chimney and pointed to the door. "Make sure Gerrard doesn't come in here, please."

With a nod of his head, Chimney twisted and moved back to the station floor. He would stand guard, as it were, and make sure Harvey didn't have to see the Captain or witness anyone being degraded and told off.

Eddie placed one hand on his hip and leaned the other arm against the locker, slouching to the side while he watched Evan reach out for Harvey.

He guided his boy to the bench and sat him down before he crouched down in front of him. The adrenaline sparking through Evan's body had him on the verge of shaking as he looked up at his son, waiting a little impatiently to be told what was going on.

School had finished, but Harvey was usually at basketball practice three times a week after school, and today was one of those days. Maisie would be in a book club after school too which made it easier for (Y/n) to pick them up after work. Harvey could walk home alone if he wanted to, but he never just turned up at the station like this unless something was wrong.

"I- I forgot my meds this morning, mum brought them to school for me… dad, it itches so bad, and my heart's doing that thing again."

Harvey gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, giving his dad access to his neck to feel his jumping pulse.

Evan pushed up on his heels and cupped his son's neck in his hands so he could press his fingers over his pulse. He stayed quiet as he counted the beats in time with the quiet ticking of his watch to check the beats per minute. Harvey was right, he was starting to have palpitations and his pulse was higher than normal.

When Evan looked down at Harvey's arms, he winced. Deep scratches littered both arms and he could see Harvey had been scratching his neck and around his collar too.

"You've had your meds though?"

"Hm." He nodded his head and sank his teeth down into his lip. He did his best to keep his hands on his lap, but he couldn't resist from trying to rake his nails up and down his arms. The result was Evan clamping a hand around his wrist and holding it down against his thigh.

"Don't make it worse-"

"It hurts." The small whimper Harvey let out made Evan's lips curve into a grimace.

"I know, but scratching doesn't help." Evan ran his hand up and down his jaw before he pushed to his feet and moved over to his locker. If he remembered correctly, he had some of Harvey's things in his back pack that he brought to work with him. Evan kept them in there for when they went out playing basketball on the weekends and for emergencies before or after school.

Bobby used to let Evan drop things off at school for Harvey if needed or he let him go pick him up if he wasn't well.

"Alright, take one of these and some painkillers. If the palpitations get worse your mum will have to call out of hours when you go home."

Evan handed over one of the emergency medications they had for Harvey and two painkillers, along with a bottle of water. And he fished the skin cream out his bag that would soothe the scratches he had created up and down his arms.

He took a seat on the bench beside Harvey and began putting the cream on the marks, wincing every time his boy took a sharp breath or his arms twitched in Evan's hold. He watched Harvey chug the tablets with the bottle of water that had been beside him on the bench. Once done, Harvey closed his eyes and tucked his face into his dad's chest while Evan looped an arm around the back of his shoulders.

"What's the plan? You wanna take him home?" Eddie looked over at Evan while he crossed his arms over his chest.

If Evan wanted to go take Harvey home, Eddie would cover for him so he could take him without telling Gerrard what was going on. He would gladly come up with some excuse and say Evan was out back working on the ambulance that was out of commission or say he was taking a shower. Eddie would come up with something.

"I don't know… I can message your mum, Harv, tell her to swing by here and get you before she picks Maisie up from school. But you'll have to go wait in the jeep."

Evan wasn't sure what to do.

He started to run his hand up and down Harvey's arm while he felt his boy cling to him and inch into his chest more like he was trying to merge them into one person.

He wanted Harvey to stay here like he usually would, but that wasn't an option anymore. Not with Gerrard in charge.

Evan couldn't let Harvey walk home alone, not when he wasn't feeling well and was prone to loss of energy. He could trip, get into an accident, collapse, anything could happen to him. Evan wouldn't let him leave here alone, he was scared at the thought of Harvey walking from the school to the station in this state.

But if he stayed, they would have to hide him and make sure Gerrard didn't bump into him at any point until (Y/n) could pick him up. The only other options were Evan walking Harvey back to school as it was only round the corner, so he could wait for (Y/n) to pick him and Maisie up. If Evan took him home, it was a guarantee that Gerrard would find out and Evan would be kept late or given some sort of punishment.

And Evan was in the mood to start a fight, he wouldn't take much more of Gerrard's criticism.

"Pops let me stay last time." Harvey lifted his head to look back at his dad through squinted eyes that showed he was having a dip in his energy levels. He felt like lying down and going to sleep.

"I know, but he isn't here anymore, and I can't have you around our new Captain right now."

"Why? I've not done anything wrong, have I?" The sudden panic in his tone made Evan sigh.

He leaned over and kissed the top of Harvey's head and moved his hand up from his arm to cradle the side of his son's neck instead. He reeled him back into his chest and hugged him while he glanced up at Eddie who was raking his hand up and down his chin and neck, trying to think how to help.

"Buddy that's not what I'm saying I swear. Our Captain isn't like Bobby… I'll text your mum and you can wait in the jeep, okay?"

It was the best Evan could do. He wasn't about to let Harvey head home on his own, it was safer to keep him here until (Y/n) could come and pick him up. And he knew she wouldn't be long before she would have to get Maisie anyway so she would be here soon once Evan texted her.

The car park was round the back of the station, it was sectioned off and secluded and safe.

Unravelling himself, Evan got up and got his phone from his locker to send a quick message to (Y/n). He stuffed his phone back in his pocket to be safe and when he turned round, he held his arm out towards Harvey and beckoned him closer.

"Let's get you outside." Eddie clapped his hand down on Harvey's shoulder with a smile. He had been friends with Evan for long enough to be like another uncle to Harvey.

He had taken Harvey out with Chris, he slept over at Eddie's place often enough that they felt like family. He knew why Harvey was here and what was wrong with him, and he sympathised. Often in the past Harvey had waited at the station after school or on days when he had to have hospital appointments and it had never been an issue.

Gerrard wouldn't see it like Bobby did, though. He didn't care about families and he wouldn't make any effort to try and help or understand.

Eddie stuffed both hands into his pockets and walked alongside Evan who had Harvey in front of him and both hands protectively placed on his son's shoulders. Every few seconds he leaned down to kiss Harvey's temple and when he felt his son take a sharp breath, he moved his hand to cup the side of his neck to check his pulse. Another palpitation.

"And who do we have here?"

A shiver rolled down Evan's spine and his hands tightened round his son's shoulders when he heard that grating voice that always managed to rile him up. He knew if Gerrard ever gave him a compliment without any snide remark attached, Evan would keel over in shock.

His jaw ground tight and his brows furrowed down as his nose crinkled in distaste. Goosebumps bristled on his exposed skin and he watched Harvey tilt his head back into his dad's chest to look up at him. Panic was written across his face and it made Evan angry. His son shouldn't have to feel panicked about coming down to the station, especially when he was ill and here for a legitimate reason.

Evan turned on his heels as slowly as possible, retracting his hands from Harvey's shoulders in the process. He reached out and carefully pushed his son to stand behind him while he tilted his head back and straightened his frame, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. In some ways, he supposed he was.

"My son." Evan kept his arm stretched out behind him with his hand on Harvey's arm. He was relieved when Harvey didn't make an attempt to peer round him and try to see the new Captain. He could tell his dad was uneasy and he didn't want to get involved.

"Right. I didn't realise we were running a daycare service now, Buckle."

That was a new one and it took all of Evan's effort not to roll his eyes. Since Gerrard started, he found it rather easy to wind Evan up and he had yet to call him by his actual name. The first time he called him something other than Buckley, Evan responded by calling him 'Gerry'.

Needless to say he had been on cleaning duty for two weeks after that.

"Neither did I, sir." Evan kept his shoulders squared and the unamused expression stayed plain on his face. He relished in the way Gerrard's lip curled and he held his head up, still no match for Evan's height.

"What's he doing here?"

"He came for medical attention, sir. Once my wife arrives she'll take him home." Evan squeezed Harvey's arm and kept him directly behind him, out of sight and reach of the vindictive Captain.

"Medical attention?" The crude laugh Gerrard let out made Harvey flinch and dig his hand into the back of his dad's shirt. "This isn't a hospital. Does he know that you're not insured to have him on the premises, and being here could put your job at risk?"

Evan felt Eddie's hand curling around his bicep to calm him down and prevent him from taking a lunge at their Captain. That would really risk his job, and he couldn't do that with Harvey here to witness it.

That wasn't fair.

He was clearly trying to rile Evan up at the same time as frighten his son, for no apparent reason other than it brought Gerrard a crude sense of glee.

"I don't see your logic, sir."

"What?"

"The department is insured for the public to come to the stations with emergencies, always has been. And since my son came here with a legitimate health issue, and I didn't bring him, then there's no liability."

Evan knew the rules. He read the handbook. He knew that the station had to be insured for a broad range of possibilities and the public were allowed to come to any station with whatever issues they had. Paramedics worked here and if someone had a medical emergency, the fire department were part of the health service and could provide that help.

Harvey came here for help, yes he wanted Evan's help, but he was here to get help nonetheless. They couldn't turn him away and Evan didn't bring him here or have him here because of childcare issues, so there was no risks involved and no liability claims to be made.

When he glanced his eyes across the station floor and saw Chimney stood to one side near the gym, Evan twisted to look at his son.

He twisted round and cupped the back of Harvey's head to kiss his temple. "Go wait with uncle Chim."

He felt Harvey grip his wrist and give a tight squeeze before he turned and wobbled on his feet, trying to hurry to get out of the commotion and over to Chimney. Evan watched him safely sit on the bench with Chimney before he dared to turn around and look back at his Captain who did not look impressed at being outsmarted.

Evan clasped his hands behind his back and stood straight, keeping a plain expression while he waited to be told off or receive yet more cleaning duties as punishment.

"What's the 'health issue'?" The air quotations made Evan's upper lip curl and he strove to stay calm while Eddie took a step to the side and hung back near the truck. He was keeping himself out of the conversation but close by in case anything happened.

"Hyper-thyroidism."

"Excuse me?"

"He has an overactive thyroid which controls hormones, it can give him heart palpitations so if he isn't well, he needs to be checked out. It's uncommon in kids his age."

Harvey's thyroid sent out too many hormones and signals to the rest of his body and the hormones controlled a lot of different things in the body. It wasn't common for young kids and teenagers to have this kind of issue which was why they had to keep a close eye on Harvey.

He suffered with an irregular heart rhythm at times, it caused excessive itching which was why he scratched his skin so badly. It affected his moods giving him bad mood swings, one moment he could be smiling and the next he felt like bursting into tears.

He had a lot of hyperactive bursts of energy but then some days he could barely climb out of bed, he felt so tired. The medication he took was to even out his levels and control the hormones he produced. But if he missed his medication or took it too late, his levels would become erratic like they had this morning.

If he wasn't well, Evan and (Y/n) had to keep an eye on him. They were always contacting the doctor regarding Harvey's medication and how he was affected.

It was why if he ever came over after an appointment or from school, Bobby was more than happy to let Harvey stay at the station. It stopped him from being alone and meant if he deteriorated, he had paramedics and family surrounding him to help.

"His age?" When Gerrard rose a brow, Evan bristled and muttered 'thirteen' under his breath. He didn't like the dark smirk that pulled beneath Gerrard's moustache. "So he's a hormonal teenager, no doubt due to hormonal teen parents-"

"He's a teen with a medical condition which you clearly don't understand."

The daring step closer Evan took towards Gerrard clearly unnerved the Captain who looked like he was trying to think of what else he could say that would rile him up. When Evan stepped closer, Eddie pushed off the truck and inched towards them. He wasn't ready to be a witness to a fight.

"Now listen here, Buck-"

"Evan?"

(Y/n) tightened her hand around her bag that was resting on her shoulder and leaned her head to one side when she looked ahead at her husband. She could see how he had his hands tightly clasped into fists behind his back. She noticed how tense his shoulders were and how he was straining his back.

The worried expression on Eddie's face was enough to make (Y/n)'s skin bristle and when she realised who Evan was standing so close to, she took a deep breath. If she had just interrupted a fight she was rather glad. The last thing they needed was Evan being suspended for fighting with his superior.

He turned on his heels, locking his eyes on his wife who was walking towards them slowly as if she didn't really want to step into the station and get into the middle of whatever was happening here.

When he looked back at Gerrard, he waited. He waited for the inevitable sound of Gerrard telling him he was now on cleaning duty once again. He waited to be told to clean the toilets until his reflection gleamed. He waited to be told he was being insubordinate and was going to get some form of a written warning.

Instead, Gerrard ran his hand up and down his chin and took a deep breath through his nose before he took a step away.

"Don't bring your kids down here again or you'll get a warning." It was a stalemate. Gerrard had been bested and there was nothing he could do today, right now, that would make Evan feel worse and he had no way to degrade him. He had no ground to stand on where Harvey was concerned.

Evan watched with a grinding jaw as Gerrard turned and pointed at Eddie, muttering for him to go and do something useful.

Just as Gerrard took one step away, Evan felt a wave of anger and protectiveness washing over him. He ran his hands up and down his trousers to ward off the anxiety flooding his system, but when Harvey flashed before his eyes, Evan shuddered.

"Then don't talk to me like that in front of my son."

Hurrying forward, (Y/n) wrapped her hands around Evan's bicep and gave him a sharp pull in her direction. She made him stumble on his back foot but he regained his balance quickly. He clamped his hand down on her hip, letting her keep his arm hostage against her chest while his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

(Y/n) shuddered at the way Gerrard turned on his heels and stalked closer to them. He looked like a predator about to sink its teeth into its prey. She had never seen someone look at Evan like that with such an intense, hating glare before.

"What did you just say to me?" The authoritive tone in Gerrard's voice caught the attention of a few stragglers, hanging round under the pretence of working when they were really trying to watch the drama unfold.

"I think you heard me."

"Evan, let's not start a fight." (Y/n) pushed up on her toes to whisper in his ear before she glanced her eyes around. "Where's Harvey?"

"And who's this, what kind of 'services' does she provide?"

A shiver crawled down (Y/n)'s spine when she saw the way the Captain eyed her up and down. She didn't like what he was trying to imply, or the snide smile toying on his lips that made her want to back away. Her hands clenched around Evan's arm and she gasped when Evan tried to lunge forward.

Her face pressed into his arm and she tried her best to pull him back while Eddie jumped in the middle and slammed his hands down onto Evan's chest to push him back.

(Y/n)'s feet skidded against the floor and she gasped, pulling on Evan's arm when he continued to try and push against Eddie and pull out of her grip. He wanted to lunge. He wanted to throttle Gerrard for saying that.

How could he stand there and insult Evan's family and think he wouldn't do anything in retaliation? How could he think he would get away with that? Even if Evan got reprimanded for this, Gerrard would too when the Chief found out what he had been saying.

Twisting her head to the left, (Y/n) locked her eyes on Chimney who had both hands on Harvey's arms, holding the thirteen year old back from trying to hurry over to them. But (Y/n) could see the way Harvey was scratching at his neck and he was twitching and shivering. He was having his palpitations again.

"Evan- Evan please, Harvey isn't well. Please!"

She could of cried when Evan finally stopped fighting them both and stood firmly on his feet. His body paused, but he was reduced to trembling all over while he looked over in Harvey's direction.

He shook off Eddie's hands and stepped back into (Y/n), reaching behind him to uncurl her hands from his arm. He took a second to kiss her temple, breathing into her hair to try and calm himself down and give his mind something to focus on other than the Captain that was enraging every one of his senses right now.

Evan's hands moved to (Y/n)'s arms and he walked her back a few paces, wanting to be as far away from Gerrard as possible. He felt her hands reach up to grip his biceps, but she visibly shivered and pushed into him when she realised Gerrard was stalking closer to them.

"I need to take him home," (Y/n) looked up at Evan before she looked towards Harvey who had pulled out of Chimney's grip and was hurrying over to them. He didn't like this. He wanted to go home. (Y/n) wanted to take her eldest home, and she still had to go to school and pick Maisie up.

"Nobody's going anywhere. If this is a medical emergency, then he can get examined here…"

Whatever Gerrard said afterwards went in one ear and out the other for Evan. He looked over his shoulder, watching with an increasing sense of dread and hatred as Gerrard bypassed them and stalked closer to Harvey. Was he really going to try and make Harvey stay? Who did he think he could get to examine him? Evan wasn't letting anyone near his son, he was going home with (Y/n) and that was the end of it.

He had no idea what Gerrard was about to do and he didn't want to find out. He could feel (Y/n) letting go of his arms to try and follow the Captain but Evan pushed her behind him as if they were in a race and he was going for the head start.

"No you're not-"

Evan didn't know what made him look. He didn't know why he glanced his eyes from staring straight ahead of him to look towards the left where the open doors were blocked with work men who had been here all week. He didn't know why he darted his eyes away from his Captain who was aiming for his son who was trying to hurry towards Evan. But when he did, a bolt of lightening struck his heart.

His upper half leaned forward and his feet skidded against the floor as he pelted forward.

His left arm reached out and smashed into Gerrard and his shoulder hit the Captain dead centre in the middle of his back.

Evan opened his right arm and bound it like a rope around Harvey's waist, not caring about the way his son shrieked in confusion and panic. All he cared about was getting them both down to the ground.

His boots skidded along the newly mopped floor and he slammed his body down, snapping his eyes closed when he felt the collision incoming. He could feel Harvey's hands clutching at his arm and shoulder which were pinned across his chest. He could feel Harvey yelping in agony when the pair of them hit the floor and he knew all the air had been whacked out of his son's chest.

(Y/n) couldn't help the scream she let out, despite the way she brought her hands up to cover her mouth in shock. Her body stumbled back and she noticed Eddie doing the same, stumbling as if they had both been struck by an invisible hand.

One of the blade wheels from the machinery outside broke loose. It pelted through the air like a boomerang and when it imbedded into the bonnet of the truck, (Y/n) choked.

Her feet moved before she could register the action and she bolted across the floor, feeling Hen and Eddie close at her side while Chimney ran from the other direction.

"Are you okay?!" (Y/n) slammed down to her knees beside Evan, reaching her hands out for his arms to help reel him up. She clutched at him so tightly she was starting to pierce her nails through his skin, but she couldn't let go. Her chest pressed into his back once Evan pushed up onto his knees, reeling Harvey up along with him.

"Jesus Buck, I think you saved them."

"Harvey, buddy are you okay?"

Evan could barely breathe when he looked down at his son. He didn't spare the Captain at his side one glance. His breaths began to run away without him as he cupped Harvey's face in his hands and tilted his head from side to side while he looked him over.

"Are you hurt?" Evan could barely find his voice or the will to breathe as his wild eyes scoured every inch he could to see if the blade had caught Harvey anywhere or made so much as a scratch on him.

He felt (Y/n) loop her arms around him while she perched her chin on his shoulder when Harvey shook his head, despite the headache he now had.

The thirteen year old gently shifted his dad's hand so he could feel the jumping vein in his neck. His heartbeat was becoming uneven again and it was starting to hurt, but he wasn't surprised.

His dad had just rugby-tackled him to the floor.

His dad was heavy; Evan was more than double Harvey's weight and size and he had bashed him into the floor so fast that Harvey knew he would have bruises littering his back tomorrow. But he couldn't have been happier about his dad's fast reflexes. He would take bruises over a blade imbedded in him any day.

He looped his arms around Evan's neck and pushed forward, burrowing into his dad's chest while he felt his mum's arm curve around his back so she could hold them both.

"You just saved Cap's life." Hen glanced over at Evan who finally spared a look down at Gerrard. The elder man was laid on his back, seemingly half-conscious with a growing puddle of blood beneath him. He has still gotten hurt somewhere, somehow, but Evan had saved him from being sliced apart.

He saved him from sudden death.

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #chimney han

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slut4thebroken · 1 day ago

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Vulnerable

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary | Tommy is stressed so you help him take his mind off it. (Inspired by those gifs)

Warnings | Smut, gentle sex, gentle kissing, forehead kisses, dry humping, praise, light dom/sub, cuddling, role reversal.

Words | 1.7 k

Notes | I bet y’all didn’t think I was capable of writing dom!reader as anything other than a sadist, did you?😼

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist (it’s not fucking letting me add any links wth 😭)

Kinktober | day 18: role reversal

“What’s wrong?” You asked, trying not to frown. Tommy was sitting on the bed, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, but he looked up at the sound of your voice. You remained in the doorway, hesitating.

He shook his head and let out a heavy breath. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Tommy…” He sighed quietly, but just closed his eyes and shook his head again instead of responding. You carefully walked over to him and took his chin in a gentle grip, tilting his head to look up at you. “You don’t have to tell me. But let me help you.” You said softly.

“I,” he cut himself off and swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to continue. He couldn’t get any words out though and eventually wrapped his arms around you tightly, resting his head on your stomach. You were shocked at first, but you quickly returned the embrace, holding him against you in a way that you hoped was comforting. He let out a soft sound and hugged you tighter. The gesture was endearing, but you were starting to worry a little because he’s rarely ever like this. Keeping your arms around him, you rubbed your hands up and down the back of his neck a little bit, trying to do everything you possibly could to comfort him.

“What do you need, Tommy?” You asked softly, wanting to be sure before you tried anything. In response, he nuzzled into your stomach and hugged you even tighter. Eventually though, he tilted his head back so his chin was on your stomach and he was looking up at you with what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes. You continued running your fingers through his hair, waiting patiently for his response.

“Don’t want to think about it anymore.” He finally said, voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” You were hoping you understood what he actually meant… When he nodded, you gave him a small smile. “Will you lay down for me, love?” He reluctantly pulled away from you to lay down on the bed, watching you crawl over him. You hiked your dress up to your hips so you could straddle his thighs, then leaned down over him and cupped his cheek. Your gaze shifted between his eyes and his lips as you slowly moved closer until you could feel his breath intermingling with your own.

When you finally kissed him, his hands moved to your waist, then snaked around to your back. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you, holding you. You started slowly rocking your hips, rubbing your pussy on his cock through all of the layers of clothing, and he let out a soft sound in response.

“You need me to get rid of all those pesky thoughts, hm?” You asked softly, moving down to kiss over his neck, feeling him nod. “Words, love.” You urged gently.

“Yes.” He choked out, making you smile. You continued grinding and kissing for a while until you got too worked up to continue teasing both of you like that. Tommy seemed to share a similar sentiment.

You quickly took his length out of his pants, then pulled your panties to the side and lined up. It stung a little when you sunk down on his thick cock, however, that was all but forgotten when you heard the little whimper that slipped out of him. Once you were fully seated on his lap, you leaned down to kiss him again, feeling his hands roaming all over your body.

“That feel good, love?” You whispered, lips brushing his as you hovered above his face. He stared up at you through half lidded eyes and nodded dumbly, making you smile again. “What about… this?” You murmured, snaking your hand up to wrap around the front of his neck, not yet squeezing. “Does that feel good?” You wanted to be sure before you did anything, especially with how fragile he seemed right now.

“Yes.” He whispered, staring up at you with an expression that you didn’t recognize. You started rocking your hips, then tightened your grip on his neck, making his lips part in a silent moan.

Leaning down so your lips were brushing his ear, you murmured, “Your cock feels so good, Tommy…” He let out a shaky breath that cut off into a choked moan when you squeezed his neck even tighter. “So good.” You moaned breathily.

With your free hand, you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers, then pinned it to the bed beside him, adding another small display of dominance. You were being extra careful not to overdo it because you didn’t want to scare him off.

You pulled back to look at him, keeping your face close enough that you could feel his breath fanning your lips. He was looking up at you with wide eyes, his lips still parted as he panted quietly.

“Please.” He whispered, voice not even audible, but you read it on his lips. You faltered for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it— Now that you think about it, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him beg for anything before. You continued rocking your hips, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you as your clit rubbed against his pelvis.

“I got you, love.” You murmured, tightening your grip on his neck until his eyes rolled back from the pleasure. The movement of your hips just barely sped up as you grew closer to your release. “You’re safe with me, Tommy.” You whispered.

When you felt his throat bob under your hand and watched his brows knit together as he closed his eyes, you tried not to frown. Whatever he was worried about was clearly stressing him more than you originally thought. You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and his bottom lip started wobbling, but he quickly took it between his teeth.

“Shh… look at me, baby.” You uttered softly. His eyes fluttered open to look up at you, now a little glossier than before. “Just focus on me.” You whispered, placing another kiss on his cheek. “My lips…” the next kiss was on his jaw, “my hands,” you kissed the side of his neck, then let your lips brush the shell of his ear as you whispered, “my pussy.” He sobbed out a quiet moan and your walls fluttered around his cock at the sound— never having heard anything like that from him before.

“That’s it… Can I make you come, angel?” You asked softly, feeling him give a small nod.

“Please..” He whimpered.

“Good boy… Just let me make you feel good.” You cooed. Your hips sped up even more, but your movements remained mostly gentle. Regardless, you could see the way his cheeks flushed and his breathing picked up, signaling his impending release. “Should I rub my clit or do you want to do it?” You’d have to let go of either his hand or his neck and you had a feeling that he wouldn’t want either option. You were proven correct when his free hand slipped between your bodies and sought out your clit.

“I’m so close, but I want you to come first. Can you do that for me, love?” He nodded in response and squeezed your hand harder, making you smile a little. When he tilted his head back so his neck was jutted out more, you assumed that was a silent request and you squeezed even harder, making his breath catch in his throat. “Good boy. You can do it…” You whispered, watching him closely.

His eyes fluttered and his lips parted even more, then his body was trembling as his orgasm washed over him. He let out a choked moan and squeezed his eyes shut, his hips bucking up unconsciously. As the pleasure washed over him, his fingers on your clit faltered, but your hips maintained a steady rhythm, working him through it.

“Good boy… I’m so proud of you, love.” You said softly, moaning a little at the feeling of hot come filling you up.

He sobbed out a moan and it was hard to tell from his expression if he was still feeling pleasure or if he was about to cry… Honestly it might’ve been both. When his orgasm finally faded, his body sagged into the bed and you paused as he panted heavily, catching his breath.

“Can I keep going or are you too sensitive?” You asked, slightly loosening your grip on his neck.

“Don’t stop… Please.” He whispered. His fingers picked back up on your clit so you started moving your hips more desperately, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and wide, teary eyes. Something about the vulnerability— the sheer overwhelming trust that he was displaying— had you barreling toward your own release.

You finally fell over the edge, your hand unconsciously tightening around his neck once again, forcing a quiet whimper out of him that was drowned out by your own sounds. You could see the way his face scrunched up in pain the slightest bit as your pussy fluttered around his sensitive cock, but he didn’t complain.

As you came down from your high, you let go of his neck to cup his cheek, giving him a small smile. He didn’t return it, but you didn’t really expect him to. You leaned down and kissed him gently, then pulled back with your forehead resting on his.

“Do you need more or do you just want to lay with me?” You were going to offer to leave him alone too, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want that in his current state.

“Lay.” He whispered. At his request, you carefully lifted yourself off his cock, then rolled onto your back and urged him closer. He hesitated at the unfamiliar position, but eventually laid down with his head on your chest, hugging you tightly as your arms wrapped around him.

For a while you just ran your fingers over his back and through his hair, trying to relax him. He remained stiff though and you desperately wanted to know what was wrong, but you knew better than to ask right now.

“Will you…” he swallowed audibly and hesitated before continuing, “will you sing to me?”

Your heart melted immediately at the request and the corners of your lips turned up into a small smile. “Of course, love.” You said softly, placing a gentle kiss on his head before beginning to sing quietly. He hugged you tighter and nuzzled into your chest, trying to focus on the vibrations against his cheek and the soft lull of your voice, rather than the thoughts threatening to consume him.

Still don’t know how to end one shots lol

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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beanarie · 2 days ago

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i never wanted water once part 3

tommy is also breakup baking, prompted by my dear @sanguinarysanguinity

tw: mention of parent death, mention of child abuse

part 1

part 2

Gutierrez eyes him on his way out of the locker room. "Feel like no one ever sees you anymore. You coming back to the pickup game or what?"

"Oh." Tommy gives his damp hair one last rub from the towel. "I wasn't planning on it, to be honest. Too awkward."

Gutierrez frowns. "Why?"

"You know," Tommy says, wishing he didn't have to, "Eddie Diaz. I broke up with his best friend."

"Diaz hasn't shown in weeks. Probably got injured. You know how that crew is."

And that. Well. He and Eddie were friends. They became tight very quickly in a way Tommy hasn't experienced with many people. He shouldn't have thrown a connection like that away without at least trying to salvage it.

He sends a text, a polite, generic one asking about his welfare. Worst thing that can happen is Eddie tells him to fuck off and he's back where he started. He fully expects to be left on read.

He does not expect Eddie to tell him he's moving back to Texas because he's given up on his son deciding to come home. Eddie invites him to a pre-going away dinner at a bar and grill before he goes down South for a few days to scout out homes. And, no, absolutely not. But Tommy proposes getting a drink, just the two of them. Eddie very validly explains that he can't spare the time, since he's already started packing up his life and he's working overtime to save up for a down payment. Tommy gets it. He does.

The day after the dinner, Eddie calls him. "Hey, man. I know we're like two ships passing in the night, but I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye. I still got some more shifts before I move for good, but the time will go by quick. We'll just stay on the line, okay? Keep me company while I go through my kitchen cabinets."

"It's good to hear from you," Tommy says honestly.

"So yeah." Eddie hums. "Why'd you do it?"

"Text you?" Tommy says. "I heard that-"

"Kinard," Eddie says, unamused.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You just didn't seem the type to flee."

None of you know me as well as you thought you did, Tommy doesn't say. That's not fair to any of them. "I wasn't, in the past. Well, I tried not being that. A couple times. It didn't work out."

"Oh," Eddie says. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"You've got shit."

"Haven't we all?"

"Hey, I am not denying that." Eddie chuckles. "Do you plan on dealing with it, or letting it blow up every good thing you find until you die?"

"Jesus, Eddie."

"What's the point in mincing words? You did something dumb and destructive. What kinda friend would I be if I let that go without saying anything?"

"So what's the weather even like in El Paso? Does it ever get below 100?"

After a groan, Eddie lets Tommy talk about his shit, about Texas, parenthood, and chess clubs, for the rest of the call. Tommy can't say that he'll miss him. He missed him already and now he gets to continue doing so. All of this sucks.

Tommy tries his hand at gnocchi made with ricotta, lemon, and pepper that subsequently almost causes a fistfight during B shift.

Demetra favors him with a warm smile, taking in the large box in his hands. "Tom, right? Welcome! What's all this?"

"Tommy," he says easily, impressed she remembered his name at all. He hasn't been to this slightly dusty community center in five or six years. "Uh, this is garlic knots and mini calzones."

"Well, hey. You're even more welcome than before. Come take a seat."

December is a stupid time to rejoin group, many of the participants close to the edge from a cocktail of seasonal depression, missing dead loved ones, and generalized loneliness. Tommy knew it would be like this going in. He counted on it. Everyone will have so much to say that there likely won't be any time for him to open his mouth. He's not ready to spill. It will help to just soak in the atmosphere of unashamed honesty for a while.

At his third meeting, Cal, a slender guy in his mid twenties with a curly mohawk, keeps bringing up his mother. "She never wanted me to enlist," he says, "and now that I'm back home and struggling, she can't stop being all 'I told you so' morning, noon, and night. She never says it, but she is thinking it."

"Is she?" Tommy finds himself asking. "Or are you putting something on her that isn't there?"

"Maybe so." Cal pops one of Tommy's fried ravioli in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I don't know, I should probably give her a chance, think first about what she's actually saying before I react. But it's hard in the moment, you know?"

"Tommy?" Demetra says a minute later, making him feel like a kid being called on by the teacher. "How's your relationship with your mom?"

"Nonexistent. She died when I was fifteen." He crosses his ankles. "Fell asleep in the car on our way back from an away game and we couldn't wake her up. Heart attack."

Demetra frowns sympathetically. "That must've been hard for a kid to witness."

"I've seen so much worse since then. People shot in the head by machine guns, people covered in burns over most of their bodies..."

Demetra shakes her head slightly. "They weren't your mom."

He ducks his head, pressing his lips together. "True. It's just- That's not- It's not trauma. I don't fear falling asleep and not waking up."

"What do you fear?" Cal asks.

Being left, being hurt, being validated in his belief that no one will ever see him for all he is and choose to stick around. "Standard stuff, really. Clowns, taxes, drivers on the freeway."

He gets a pity laugh, a groan or two, and one outright glare. "Okay, okay." He exhales loudly. "Ending up alone by someone else's choice rather than mine."

"So you're cool with being on your own, as long as you're the one keeping everyone away," Cal says.

God, that sounds idiotic. "Yes?"

"You prefer it like this?" asks a woman about his own age wearing a green bomber jacket.

He shrugs. "It's not ideal, but as far as worst case scenarios go, it's okay. It's fine."

"It's spineless," says a gray-haired man with a Desert Storm hat.

Tommy doesn't flinch. "Yeah, that's kind of an inherent character trait. I keep thinking I got it licked, then it shows up wearing another face. Scared of my dad, so I joined the army and became someone he couldn't hurt anymore. Scared of people knowing I was gay, so I waited to come out until I was surrounded by brand new people. Scared of my boyfriend leaving, so." He pushes at the skin above his knees, kneading it. "So I left him first."

"You fall back," says Bomber Jacket. Her name is Annie or Angie. She has conflicted feelings about dating a man with kids. "It's easy to stop being scared when the thing that scared you is far away."

He hears Eddie. You just didn't seem the type to flee.

Demetra holds up a hand. Tommy's face must be doing something concerning. "No one here faults you for what you did to survive. Is it still serving you, is the question, or is that just what you're used to?"

He doesn't bake when he gets home. He drinks half the beers in his fridge and does a shockingly efficient job of cleaning his house, while drafting and deleting twenty-seven different texts. He then wakes up the next day, and goes to the pickup game.

Gutierrez scores four rebounds on him and doesn't shut up about it for the rest of their next shift. Tommy grumbles, and talks shit, and promises he won't have much to brag about next time.

#911 abc #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #my writing #things by beanarie

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ironworked · 15 hours ago

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Something that really messes me up (pisses me off) about the break-up is that if it's temporary then it's mostly Tommy's issues and a case of miscommunication, but if they don't and it's permanent... then the show is essentially validating Tommy's speech.

Buck needs to figure himself out, and your first can't be (isn't often) your last. Right?

Now we have Buck just baking his feelings out instead of texting Tommy, and post-hiatus... whatever the next thing for him is. If after that he doesn't contact Tommy, then he's either still 'lost', or he's more clear headed and just isn't choosing him.

I hate that.

#As a hurdle there's ways to make it work but as a hard stop it's horrendous.#I don't buy for one second that Buck would fight more for this relationship after 1 bad date than after 6 good months #it might involve getting angry at Tommy first and going to yell at him! but he'd do something #uugghh #Tv: 911 #bucktommy #911 critical

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rosyhoneydew · 14 hours ago

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nsf/w continuation of this fic below ⬇️ happy Thanksgiving pt. 2!

Buck opens the door for them to step back inside. He thrills a little at the feeling of Tommy's hand on his waist. God, it feels good to have those hands on him again. Chimney's alone in the kitchen, bagging up turkey and setting the dishes in the sink. He smirks at the two of them when they walk in and Buck resists the urge to smooth down his hair where Tommy had grabbed at it.

"You two talk things out then?"

Buck gives him a look. "You know there were easier ways you could've gotten us to talk."

"This way seemed more fun," Chimney responds lightly. "Can I get you some leftovers, Tom?"

"That would be great, thanks."

When Buck looks up at him, Tommy is smiling. He looks like he's come back to life. It's a stark difference from the cautious, uncomfortable man that walked in a few hours ago.

Tommy catches him looking and the smile grows sweeter.

"Come home with me tonight," Buck leans up to whisper.

He gets an eyebrow raise in response.

"Just to spend one night, not- I'm not asking for more than one night."

Tommy leans in even closer, his lips pressed to Buck's ear. He places a kiss at the soft spot of his jaw and whispers back, "Okay."

They pack up the night quickly after that. Tommy helps with the dishes, You guys did all the cooking, let me do this and Buck gets called into Jee's bedroom to say goodnight. When he emerges, 2 stories later, Maddie, Chim, and Tommy are standing around the counter, chatting and laughing. It sends a ripple through his heart. He can't help but think of Maddie's advice I think you have to trust the Universe is gonna bring you a special person. What could be more special than this, he thinks, a warm feeling washing over him.

Tommy drives them back to Buck's apartment. There's a slight hesitancy in him as they walk inside, maybe wondering if Buck has changed his mind, remembering what happened last time. Buck hasn't. He grabs Tommy's hand and pulls him inside.

He doesn't give either of them the time to overthink. The moment they're inside he's got his arms around Tommy's shoulders, kissing him messy and dirty and full of pent-up feeling that he's been trying and failing to burn out in his oven.

Tommy matches him step for step, he wraps one arm around Buck's waist and drops the other hand to his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. They stand there, making out in Buck's kitchen for minutes on end before the desperation Buck feels becomes too much. He pulls away, pecking Tommy on the lips a few more times, like he can't stop.

"Bed?" he asks.

Tommy nods, repeats, "Lead the way."

Buck walks them upstairs, shimmying off his pants and shirt before laying back in the center of the bed. Tommy watches for a moment, like he can't believe he's here. It's sweet, but Buck is hungry so he spreads his legs wide and drops a hand to his dick, playing with it over his boxers.

"Come on," he urges.

Tommy follows after that, dropping to his knees and hooking his hands behind Buck's legs. He uses the leverage to pull Buck to the edge of the bed, nuzzling his cock the second he's eye-level. It's not what Buck was expecting, the sudden movement and stimulation making him gasp.

"Baby," he groans.

Tommy opens his mouth and places kisses along Buck's cock, sucking through the cloth at the head. It's dulled by the cotton, but the feel of Tommy's warm mouth and tongue pressing against him still leaves Buck moaning through it.

Tommy pulls his underwear down at the sound, staring at Buck, fully bare and flushing under the attention. The sensation of being watched sends tingles through Buck's body and he squirms. Tommy holds his hips to keep him still.

"I've missed you so much."

"You talking to me or my dick?" Buck asks.

Tommy sends him a look, but it dissolves in a moment. "Both," he admits. "I love your dick."

"Yeah, you miss having it inside you, baby?"

Tommy groans. Buck wishes either of them had the patience for that tonight. He lifts his hips a little instead.

"Want your mouth."

Tommy doesn't make him wait. He licks up and down Buck's cock a few times and then sucks the head inside his mouth. It's hot and soft inside his mouth, the way it always is, and Buck moans.

He sucks the head a few times, getting the angle right before he takes Buck down, going all the way until his throat is stuffed full. It makes a wet, clicking sound when he does and Buck gasps in response, eyes closing in arousal. He's always loved the sound of sex.

Tommy works him faster after that, gliding up and down in a wet slide that leaves Buck moaning and twisting in Tommy's hold. It doesn't take him long to get close. The feeling of Tommy's tongue pressing flat against him and the Tommy's right hand slips up to play with his balls and press just behind them gets him there.

"Close, baby, I'm so close," he gets out, urgent.

Tommy groans, working faster and spending more time sucking at the head as he does. He runs his tongue in figure eights there and slides down in rapid up and down motions and Buck is gone.

Buck can hear himself moaning and tries to keep his hips from fucking up into Tommy's throat with too much abandon, but Tommy doesn't seem to mind. He moans himself, swallowing and sucking Buck through it.

Buck is still coming down when he notices, Tommy's got his head resting against Buck's thigh, his mouth open on the grunts and groans pushing forward. He's got one hand, still wet with Buck's come, stroking his cock fast and hard. Buck's not even sure when Tommy got his pants undone. The sight of it is so blingingly erotic that Buck feels a shockwave of arousal run through him again. It's not long after that that Tommy looks up at him, eyes pinching before they roll back as he comes.

They sit there breathing for a moment, before Buck pulls Tommy up to the bed that has to be hell on your knees. Tommy lays down next to him, reaching a dry hand over to weave his fingers into Buck's. There's still so much to say, so much that Buck wants to make sure they air out, but for now they're content to lay like this. They've got time.

#Oh you thought I was going to leave you without smut? in this house?#bucktommy #911 abc #nsft #my writing

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peppermintquartz · 5 hours ago

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for the prompt! CRASH THAT HELICOPTER! (i need to see yet again tommy being on the verge of death, and then being suprised buck and the 118 are by his side in the hospital.)

Something's gotten hold of my heart Keeping my soul and my senses apart

Tommy's consciousness kicks in grudgingly with Nick Cave's voice, but together with the song is a plethora of pain.

He opens his eyes. Grass, long grass. Some trees overhead. Broken branches, maybe. Daylight.

What was he doing before this? He's not in the habit of sleeping outside, he's done enough of that. Then he hears in the silence, a distance away, the unmistakable roar of fire.

Ah. He'd jumped. The bird had wrenched itself free of his control; some wires had not held or maybe there was an error in the chips. Whatever it is, he had to jump.

He can't feel any heat, so that is at least a good sign he landed far from it. But fire travels faster than most people think.

Breathing is hard. Acute, stabbing pains. Likely broken ribs.

His toes wiggle when he tells them to. So do the fingers of his right hand. His left hand screams at him when he tries to move it and his vision blacks out.

It takes another monumental effort to climb back to consciousness.

Radio, he thinks inanely. Gotta call for help.

He doesn't have a functional radio. At least he can roll onto his less injured side - fighting nausea and agony every inch of the way - and look.

Black smoke billows up in a thick column. There are other birds in the sky surveying the area, Tommy remembers. They'll call it in.

They may never find Tommy though. He's some distance away.

No matter. There are worse ways to go.

Tommy is exhausted. He slips his right hand into his pocket and lets Nick Cave sing him back into unconscious slumber.

In a world that was small I once lived in a time there was peace with no trouble at all But then you came my way And a feeling unknown shook my heart, made me want you to stay All of my nights and all of my days

He registers the beeping of the machines before the floaty numbness of his body, and under that, a deep lake of pain to be dealt with.

There's warmth over his right hand.

He fades again.

I've got to know if this is the real thing I've got to know what's making my heart sing

The second time he surfaces, he hears low conversation. People he knows that he knows, but can't name.

His right hand is still warm and he closes his fingers as best as he can.

"He's waking up," someone says. The voice is rough-edged, tired. Tommy wants to cuddle it.

Each eyelid weighs a thousand tons. He struggles anyway.

And he is greeted with a concerned Evan, holding onto his right hand. Behind Evan is Chimney.

Tommy looks at himself as best as he can. He has so many tubes attached to different parts of him. He has a mask over his face, and the sound of his breathing is unnaturally loud.

Tommy blinks at Evan, and tears roll down his face. Evan squeezes his hand. Chimney disappears from view, texting into his phone as he goes.

"He's telling everyone you pulled through," Evan says, smiling. His big blue eyes are bright and fatigued. He has the beginnings of a full beard. That's not regulation.

Feeling the tug of sleep again, Tommy blinks a few more times at the man he loves.

"I know. Rest. Get better." Evan picks up the limp right hand and kisses the back of it. "We'll have time to talk."

You smile and I am lost for a lifetime Each minute spent with you is the right time Every hour, every day You touch me and my mind goes astray

#tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #tevan #pq writes #song fic #it's been a while since I did that #there's something in his pocket :')

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joelswritingmistress · 1 day ago

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Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 14 (Joel x reader)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000

Your mother was busy getting all the side dishes ready for the picnic while your dad packed coolers of beer, soda and water outside and prepped the grill.

“I'll bring these out,” you offered, repeating what felt like a thousand times, “What else do you need?”

You knew your mother had a thousand things to say, and maybe a hundred questions after that. Still, she remained cordial and attempted to seem normal on the surface. You knew by her tightly wound mannerisms that she wasn't even close to portraying that - at least not to you. She might've fooled a coliseum full of people with her mask, but not you.

When everything was set up and less than an hour remained until guests began to arrive, you tried to excuse yourself.

“Okay, I’m going to shower.” You scampered toward the stairs but your mother called you back.

Fuck. You had almost gotten up the stairs, but without stalling made your way back to where your mom stood in the kitchen.

“Do you need any more help?” You tried to butter her up a bit by offering your aid and pressing on a smile, but your mother wasn't having it.

“You need to consider what you're doing, (Y/N),” she warned, “I'm saying it for your own good.”

“Okay,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I mean it,” your mother went on. “I honestly don't know what other advice to give you. He’s a man. He's married.”

“He's not with Cecille,” you insisted, “Do you really think I'd get involved with a married man? I mean, I guess legally he is but they haven't lived together for awhile and they're getting a legal divorce.”

“You're twenty-three.”

“And I'm able to date who I want to date,” you said without trying to sound confrontational. “Mom, I know on the surface this looks bad. But I'm going to feel this out and see where it goes. If I get my heart broken, it's on me. I have feelings for Joel and he has feelings for me. I’ll deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.”

She stared at you for a long moment before saying quietly. “Okay.” Her white flag was waving and, if nothing else, she was done fighting you on it - for the moment.

A temporary victory. You knew this meant your mother wasn't going to tell your father; not yet. And so you silently thanked her with a closed-mouth smile and took the stairs to take a shower.

***

The picnic had dragged. You checked your phone again and again and again. Joel, you guessed, was refraining from being the one to initiate conversation. You couldn't blame him, and you hoped that was all it was - him being cautious.

What if it's over? You wondered. What if that's it? What if all this scared him off?

Your anxiety got the best of you and you wandered around the side of your house to text him. Your thumbs danced on the screen as you asked how his day was going, if he got in touch with Tommy and if later was still good to meet up.

You chewed on your thumbnail and rounded back into the picnic. It was much to your relief that Cecille hadn't shown up. As the hours ticked by you grew more hopeful that she wouldn't swing by. Still, seeing her car in the driveway next door made your insides twist with a concoction of feelings.

Ding! Your phone sounded off and your head was pulled down like a magnet toward the screen.

Text me a time, Joel texted back to you, remember how to get to the fishing spot?

You typed back without hesitation: Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done here.

All you wanted was to be back with. You wanted to take in his body language, hear his words. You wanted to know that despite what had happened that morning, that everything was alright.

You glanced around the backyard at the scene you would have typically enjoyed. There was a four on four volleyball game going on, two people were playing cornhole, others were talking and laughing around the tables you'd helped your parents set up. Regardless of the smiles, the music, the laughter and the sun shining down on everyone, your smiles were forced and fake.

By the time the last of the guests were waving goodbye, you couldn't wait any longer.

Seven o'clock? You typed to Joel, while helping your parents clean up.

You folded a table in half and began lugging it toward the open bay of the garage. When your phone pinged, you set the table down on the driveway so you could check it.

I'm addicted, you acknowledged. Fuck.

Being head over heels for someone was more than you bargained for. You truly felt addicted to Joel Miller.

I'll be waiting, Joel wrote back.

His words out more pep in your step, and you hurried to lug in the cornhole boards and a second table. Inside, you helped your mother wrap up some of the leftovers and wipe down the countertops before finally hurrying to retrieve your keys and a backpack you prepared.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Your mother asked. She held your gaze and you shook your head.

“I don't think so “ you told her honestly, “But I'll let you know for sure.” She added, “Is that alright?”

“Like you said, you're twenty-three.” She shrugged. “You can do whatever you want.” Your mother turned toward the sink. “Be careful. And text me.”

“I love you.”

She turned and met your gaze. Despite her outward, quiet concern for the situation she said honestly. “I love you, too.”

On a completely opposite and oblivious note, your father high-fived you by the front door as he entered after putting some things in the garage.

“See ya later, kiddo!”

You smiled to yourself, relieved by his nonchalant demeanor. “See ya later, Dad. Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

You were out the door a few seconds later, speeding off into the night to meet Joel at your secret location. You needed to see him in the worst way. Despite his agreement to meet, there was doubt that plagued the back of your mind.

What if, what if, what if…

Your foot hit the gas a little harder as you drove from back road to back road until the park came into view. You had to really think to remember a few of the last bends in the road but soon you recognized the wooded area that led down to the lake.

Where is he? Where is he?

Relief filled your core when you saw Joel’s truck in a small clearing. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you pulled up beside him. Joel turned from where he sat in the driver’s seat and he flung his door open almost immediately.

Oh, no, you thought. He has something to say.

Joel looked like a man on a mission. You prepared yourself for the worst. You prepared yourself for the heartache. The other shoe was about to drop. All of a sudden you were scared to get out of the car. Joel's face was too serious. If you just sat there then you wouldn't have to hear his let down.

Stop! You scolded yourself.

You popped open your door and let yourself as Joel rounded the front of your car.

Fuck, he looks good.

Joel was all you thought all about all day - not that that was anything new. He stared at you down with jeans a snug fitting white t-shirt. It hugged his rugged upper in all the right places and your former anxious thoughts were replaced far different ones.

“Hi,” you said to him, folding your hands in front of you.

Joel didn't immediately say anything. He appeared as if he was studying you. You were sure he was far better at it than you were.

He walked the rest of the way to you and you went to speak again.

“Joel, I-” You were cut off when he grabbed your face and kissed you firmly on the lips. You kissed him back, letting your guard down completely in his embrace. Almost immediately it grew heated. Your hands began to wander. He began to snake your shirt up over your head and before you knew it you were nearly naked in the bed of his truck with his body blanketing yours.

“Joel,” you finally choked out, “I want you.”

“I love you,” he voiced in a gruff whisper against your lips before devouring them once more.

“I love you,” you whimpered back. One of your legs hooked around his naked waist and Joel groaned into your mouth.

Everything about the moment was feral and raw and right. Being apart all day amidst the uncertainty and the angst made you needy for one another. As bad as you wanted Joel, you wondered if he wanted you more. It felt impossible, but the way he approached you that evening without even saying a word left you breathless.

Darkness had fully taken over the world when the two of you finished. Even long after your lovemaking was through, your lips touched, your hands explored one another and Joel kissed along your collarbone, neck and shoulders.

Being out in nature completely nude and basking in the afterglow of perhaps the most tender, emotional sex you had ever had was an experience you wouldn't soon forget.

“I was afraid you were going to break things off with me,” you said quietly, kissing Joel’s neck as he closed his eyes beside you.

“I could never do that.”

“Never?” You let your teeth graze his neck as you continued to kiss him there.

“Mmm..” Joel moaned out loud, “Never.”

Laying face-to-face you linked your arm up under his and rested your palm on his shoulder blade. You pulled him close and kissed him. There was no getting enough of Joel. You slipped your tongue past his lips and he eagerly reciprocated. As you made out you felt him harden again against your upper thigh.

“I want you again,” you practically begged, pulling him closer. “Please.” Your hand drifted down to his lower back and Joel rolled his body back on top of yours with your encouragement.

His kiss was smoldering. You pawed your arms around him and tangled a hand in his thick, dark hair. When Joel’s lips parted from yours he kissed down your neck to the tops of your breasts before separating himself from you.

“No,” you begged, pulling him back with a smile as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

Joel satisfied you with a sloppy, closed-mouth kiss. “I'm just reaching inside for some blankets,” he explained, whispering against your lips. Joel pried open the back window on his truck and grabbed a small stack of blankets from the back seat.

You adjusted so he could place a few down on the truck bed and then laid back down flat and pulled him back to you.

Your bodies connected immediately as his lips crashed back against yours. When your lips finally parted to take a breath, you gasped out the words, “Don't leave me.”

Why was this such a problem for you? Even Joel, himself, saying he would never leave wasn't convincing enough. You were too deep into it emotionally and it was making you a wreck inside.

Joel, patient as ever, brought his lips to your ear. “You're mine.” His teeth latched onto your ear lobe and he swirled his tongue around the area. “All mine.”

Your head dropped back in pleasure and you dug your fingers into his back.

New kink unlocked.

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

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alchemistc · 21 hours ago

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Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #happy Thanksgiving #pls feel free to piss off your relatives at the dinner table this afternoon!#tommy and buck would approve!

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