ultraviolence

A/N: Helloooo. We are so back. Enjoy some Hollanov, to tide us over until 9-1-1 returns!!

Shane Hollander x Ilya Rozanov | 18+ | 1.6k | Read on AO3

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“What the fuck was that?!”

Ilya had the audacity to chuckle at that, closing the door behind Shane and locking it. When he turned back to face Shane, a scowl was still decorating Shane’s features.

“Oh my God, you are actually mad?” He said, the shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

Shane rolled his eyes, huffing something under his breath that sounded like “fucking asshole.”

“So you came up here just to complain, then?” Asked the Russian.

Shane huffed, crossing the room in long strides until they were face to face.

Of course, they both knew why Shane was in Ilya’s hotel room, but Shane was not about to admit that out loud. Instead, his dark eyes bore holes into Ilya’s hazel ones, until Ilya’s hand came up slowly, tentatively cupping the shorter man’s face.

Shane instantly let his head be supported by Ilya’s hand, tipping slightly towards it.

“I am so sorry for flirting with you in front of your friends,” said Ilya, sounding more condescending than apologetic.

“Fuck you”

Ilya huffed out a laugh like this was amusing to him, which only made Shane’s brow furrow deeper.

“It’s not a joke. People talk,” He began, exasperated.

“Relax. Everyone knows I flirt. It is more weird if I do not flirt with you at all,” Ilya assured him.

“You didn’t flirt with Hayden,” Shane pointed out.

“Who would flirt with Hayden?” Said Ilya with feigned disgust, which actually made Shane’s expression soften momentarily.

“Good. A smile. Finally,” Said Ilya, smiling back at Shane, “Now, take your clothes off.”

Shane obeyed immediately, pulling his clothes off and laying them neatly on the dresser behind him while Ilya watched, amused. When he had stripped down to his boxer shorts and socks, Ilya directed him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“On your stomach, Hollander.”

Shane complied immediately which always sent a shiver down Ilya’s spine. He wondered what kind of request it would take for Shane to actually not obey — if there was one at all.

Shane heard the quiet shuffling of clothes being undone, then felt the mattress dip under Ilya’s weight. He felt the heat radiating off the other man’s body, knees planted on either side of Shane’s hips.

Shane’s face was covered by his crossed arms on the duvet, so he couldn’t really see much of anything. When he felt Ilya’s hands on his back, slowly running down the muscles he’d slowly built over the years, he expected to feel Ilya’s long fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer shorts and pull down, but Ilya’s hands didn’t touch the elastic. Instead, when he reached Shane’s lower back, Ilya dragged his calloused hands back up the length of Shane’s back, making the hairs on the back of Shane’s neck stand.

Shane breathed out a little huff, muffled by the skin of his arms where his face was buried. He hoped Ilya had not heard it, but seconds later, there were lips grazing over the shell of his ear.

“Patience, Hollander,” He drawled.

Ilya’s lips planted a soft kiss in the space between Shane’s ear and his hairline, then another on his neck, then another on his shoulder. He kept planting sweet little kisses all the way over Shane’s vast expanse of exposed skin. It was dizzying. The warm breath, the soft lips, and the cold drag of the cross pendant all too much on his delicate skin.

It seemed to go on forever, until there was no inch of Shane’s back which Ilya’s lips had not grazed. He sighed contentedly, feeling like he was floating. His cock was fully hard and being pressed between his body and the duvet, but Shane was perfectly content with just soft kisses for the rest of his life. Or, you know, the rest of the couple hours he would be here.

Finally, the trail of kisses ended up back at Shane’s ear.

“You are still mad?” Shane could hear the smirk in Ilya’s voice.

He let out a strained noise, hoping it was enough to communicate that, no, he was not mad anymore. It seemed to do the trick, as Ilya hummed softly and breathed out khoroshiy, before planting one last kiss on the skin of Shane’s neck.

At last, Ilya’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Shane’s underwear, and Shane shuddered in anticipation, lifting his lips a little to help Ilya undress him.

“Can take these off, yes?” He asked in a deep voice.

“Yes,” breathed out Shane.

“You do not want to fold them?”

Shane looked over his shoulder to glare at Ilya, but he was met with soft hazel eyes and a crooked smile so disgustingly endearing, he could not bear to feign irritation.

When Shane was finally bare, Ilya trailed a strong hand up Shane’s right thigh, stopping just under the crease of his ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. His thumb pushed just enough to spread Shane’s cheek, exposing his puckered hole.

"Chert voz’mi", he groaned, before sinking his teeth into Shane’s ass cheek.

“Fuck!,” Shane whined, but was immediately soothed by Ilya’s tongue which lapped over the bite.

“Sorry,” Ilya said with his mouth still pressed against Shane’s skin.

Ilya brought his other hand to cup Shane’s other ass cheek, mirroring the other hand, spreading him open. For a moment, Shane felt very exposed, until Ilya’s wet tongue licked over his hole. Then, Shane’s head became fuzzy.

Ilya licked over his hole sloppily. So much so, in fact, Shane could feel little beads of spit run down over his balls. Shane tried his hardest to muffle his moans, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his face. He could feel Ilya chuckling softly against his hole, or maybe it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed. Not right now.

Ilya stopped his ministrations and Shane audibly groaned into the pillow. He replaced his mouth with his fingers, slowly adding more, pushing in deeper and deeper, making sure Shane was ready to take his cock.

“Fuck, Hollander. You are dripping,” Ilya said with a gravelly voice.

Shane couldn’t even bring himself to insult him. Instead, he used all the effort he could conjure to whine out, “Need…”

He fully expected Ilya to tease him a little —Need what, Hollander?—But all Ilya said was, “Yes, I know. I will give you what you need.”

He heard some more shuffling, then the zipper of a suitcase being opened, then the bed creaked again, and Rozanov was on top of him, knees on either side of Shane’s body, bent low over him until Shane could feel the tip of the cross pendant resting on his skin.

“Lift up,” He directed, grabbing Shane’s hips.

Shane lifted his hips a little, arching his back in preparation. He heard a noise come out of Ilya that could only be described as a gasp.

“Still want, yes?” Asked Ilya, like the breath had been knocked out of him.

“Still want,” Shane confirmed, speaking into the pillow.

He felt the tip of Ilya’s cock against his hole, pushing slowly inside him with a deep groan. Ilya’s strong arms wrapped around Shane. Ilya let one arm spread across his chest under his arms, and straightened the other out on the bed for balance, pulling Shane with his back against Ilya’s chest.

In this position, Ilya’s mouth was directly against Shane’s ear, and Shane revelled in it, listening to soft Russian curses and laboured breaths dancing on his skin.

It didn’t take long for the familiar build up of pleasure to coil in Shane’s gut. It never did these days.

“Fuck, Rozanov, I’m not- not gonna last,” He panted.

Ilya made a noise, punctuated by some more Russian cursing, “You are going to cum without me even touching you? Fuck, Hollander. Make a mess, come on!”

With that encouragement, Shane spurted ropes of cum all over the duvet, with Ilya’s cock still buried deep inside him, and his mouth on Shane’s neck. Moments later, Ilya tightened his arm that was gripping Shane to his chest, stilling as deep inside him as possible, and cumming hard, his noises muffled by Shane’s neck.

Ilya rolled them both over, avoiding the mess of cum on the duvet, before slowly slipping out of Shane.

“Fuck, Hollander,” He groaned, still holding Shane close.

“I should probably go,” Said Shane after a minute.

“I am sorry I flirted with you in front of your team,” Ilya said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine. Your flirting sounds like bullying, anyway. I don’t think anyone noticed,” Shane assured him, all the anger having dissipated.

Ilya didn’t say anything, so Shane said again, “I should go.”

“Yes, probably,” He agreed, making no move to let go of Shane.

“When are you flying back to Boston?”

“Early,” Ilya said, trying to sound casual, but his arm loosened around Shane’s body.

“Yeah, me too. Not Boston, I mean,” He trailed off. Of course Ilya already knew Shane would not be flying to Boston, “I’m gonna go.”

Shane rolled out of bed and started putting his clothes back on. Ilya remained in the same position on the bed, watching Shane get dressed.

Shane was about to say goodnight and leave, when Ilya quickly rolled off the bed and strode over to Shane. Shane raised his eyebrows like he was not expecting it, because he wasn’t.

Like he had done when Shane first walked into the room, Ilya cupped Shane’s face with one hand.

“I kissed your whole body but not your lips,” He explained with a small smile, like it was the most absurd thing in the world. In many ways, it was.

He leaned in, a mere inch away from Shane’s mouth before planting a slow, deep kiss on Shane’s lips. Ilya’s kisses always made Shane’s head spin. So slow and soft and somehow so filthy. Shane’s cock twitched uselessly in his pants.

“Goodnight, Hollander” He spoke softly, like he was afraid to spook him.

A/N: Hello, friends! Sorry I keep disappearing. Uni somehow gets harder every year...crazy. This is a bit of a shorter one, but I hope you like it still <3 (and yes, as the title suggests, it's mirror sex) Leave a comment if you want, I'd love to hear your opinions. Or even better, send an ask!!!! Requests are welcome (even if it may take a little while)

Evan Buckley x Reader | NSFW (18+) | One-Shot

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It’s been a year since the first time you went on a date with Buck. You can barely believe that the nervous guy you had met for coffee, who kept tripping over his words and putting his foot in his mouth, is the same man who you woke up next to this morning. 

For your one year anniversary, Buck surprised you with a weekend getaway at a nice hotel. He thought you would appreciate a couple of days of R&R, picking the place specifically for its spa amenities. However, ever since the Buck wheeled your suitcases into the hotel room, the two of you haven’t set foot outside the confines of your suite. 

You’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been given, on the bed, in the shower, up against the wall, and one or two on the carpeted floor — you have rug burns to show for it. 

It’s truly impressive, the way your boyfriend can go round after round after round. Sure, he takes a break every once in a while, orders room service, takes a few sips of water, but every time, he’s back to being fully hard in time to enter you again. Despite the soreness you know will make you limp tomorrow, you have no complaints. 

After so many rounds and various positions, Buck decides to try something a little bit different. It’s nothing too crazy, but somehow, the two of you had never done this before. 

Buck leads you to the vanity unit, and in one smooth motion, his large hands manhandle you, turning you around to face the mirror, then bending you over the vanity table. 

Looking up through your eyelashes at the reflection, you can see the little smirk on his face; the one he makes when he was about to rock your world. One hand holds your hip, while the other soothingly rubs your lower back. You can see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans down with his mouth at your ear, gently moving your hair off your back and over your shoulder. 

“Look at you,” He whispers, an edge in his voice, “what a pretty girl.”

He kisses a trail from the back of your neck to the point where your ear meets your jaw, tugging your ear lobe gently between his teeth. 

“I love seeing you like this, so wrecked for me,” he continues, “but it isn’t fair you don’t get to see what you look like, is it? The way your lips part when I hit that spot, the way your face scrunches when you cum.” 

The words alone are doing something to you, and it’s evident from the way he’s looking at you, that he knows exactly what effect his dirty mouth has on you. 

He teases you, rubbing the head of his cock between your folds, seemingly amused by just how wet you are for him. Then, seeing the look of desperation and need on your features, he pushes himself inside you. You drop your head down as you try to adjust to his size — it always takes you a moment, even after a year. 

Buck’s hand grabs your hair, at your scalp, and tugs, pulling your head up. 

“No, baby, none of that. Look up, look at yourself. You have to see. See how pretty you are taking my cock. God, you’re tight, but you can do it, can’t you? You can take it all, right?” His tone is teetering the line of condescension, but it makes your stomach tighten just the same. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he whines, pushing a little deeper, “so perfect, so good for me.”

You moan in response, watching. Your eyes flit between your own reflection and Buck’s. Your drooping eyelids, his furrowed brow, your kiss-bitten lips, the tattoo on his chest that moves with every laboured breath. 

As your orgasm approaches, you have to fight harder and harder to keep your eyes from closing, but you try your best, wanting to do what he asked, but also just enjoying the unusual point of view. Eventually, your legs begin quiver and shake beneath you, your body held between the vanity table and your boyfriend. His thrusts make everything shake, blurring the reflection with each push. His fingers are still wrapped around your hair, but it doesn’t hurt, only adding to the overall experience. 

When you finally cum, it feels like the usual pleasure but amplified. Looking at Buck’s red face, painted in satisfaction at witnessing your climax, then a second later, giving in and coming deep inside you. 

The hand in your hair relaxes, and he collapses forward, his chest pressed up against your back, kissing your face, neck and shoulder while making eye contact with your through the mirror. 

“You did so good for me,” he praises softly, “perfect.” 

The satisfied groan you let out seems to please him, his mouth turning into a goofy grin as he slowly pulls out of you, still holding your body up. 

5 times Dan and Phil click baited us

Read on AO3

18+ | Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz | Smut

A/N: Hey y'all! Technically wrote this for kinktober, but i definitely will not be posting 31 of these. This was my first time writing Buddie smut so I hope you enjoy xx

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Over the Summer, Buck had been shown dozens of homes by his real estate agent. Unfortunately, there seemed to be an issue with every single one of them. The kitchen was too small in one of them, the other had a ‘weird vibe’, one was too far from work, another had a peculiar smell. 

Despite the realtor’s best efforts, Buck remained living on South Bedford street. Specifically, on Eddie’s couch. At first, Eddie insisted that Buck keep the bedroom since that was technically Buck’s bed in there, but Buck refused, and eventually Eddie reluctantly agreed to take back his bedroom. 

While Buck was perfectly fine sleeping on Eddie’s couch (it was surprisingly comfortable), there was a slight issue regarding privacy. Since Buck didn’t have his own room, he was constantly in the Diaz living space, which meant that he had to be extra creative with dealing with his urges.

The first few weeks, he tried to quit cold turkey. He had managed once, before the sperm bank donation, he could do it again. Except, it was proving harder (in every sense of the word)  this time around for some reason. After spending a whole day with Eddie, running errands, for some inexplicable reason, Buck’s cock ached to be touched. 

He managed to hold off for a couple of days, but eventually, his restraint snapped like a twig. Luckily, by then, he had found the perfect system. While Chris wasn’t home, Buck would go to the bathroom and take a nice, long, shower. Often, Chris not being home meant Eddie was also out, so Buck would have the whole house to himself. 

And so it began. A ritual of sorts, where Buck would disappear into the bathroom, strip down, turn on the hot water, and fuck his fist. It was a great system, he thought. The water would muffle some of the noises, the shower made for easy cleanup, and no one was the wiser. 

One particular day, Buck was feeling particularly pent up. Chris was over at Tia Pepa’s house, and it was just him and Eddie in the house. Eddie. With his furrowed brows and big, brown eyes, pranced around the house in an LAFD T-shirt the sleeves of which he had cut off, and a pair of shorts, fixing all sorts of little things around the house he had been putting off. Buck wanted to wait until Eddie was out of the house, but every time Eddie completed one task, he’d grab his tools and move on to another task. His brow furrowed in focus, bent over, or stretching upwards, giving Buck a full anatomy lesson on how the muscles of the arms and the legs contract while one does housework. 

Eventually, Buck couldn’t help it. He needed a shower. A cold one probably would have been best, but when stripped down and twisted the faucet, hot water poured out, filling the bathroom with steam. 

As he had done many times before, Buck stepped into the shower, lazily tugging on his cock until he was fully erect. The steady stream of warm water enveloped him in a relaxing hug, and he relaxed his tensed muscles, tipping his head back under the stream. His right hand stroked up and down his shaft, stretched slightly so that the pad of his thumb could rub over the glistening, pink head. Droplets of precum began to form at the tip, and Buck’s nimble fingers spread it down the rest of the length, positioning himself so that his back shielded his cock from the water. 

As he picked up the pace, Buck’s breathing became more audible, and he even had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from making too much noise. After all, Eddie was still in the house. Ah, Eddie. Changing lightbulbs, or whatever he was doing. Buck was a little too…distracted to pay attention.

For some unknown reason, more precum dripped down the sides of Buck’s cock, as his wrist worked him closer towards his release. His muscular chest expanded with each breath, nipples pert, and drops of water mixed with a little bit of sweat running down in the crevice between his pecs. 

He was beginning to get close now. His left arm shot out to hold onto the shower wall, but, in his daze, he accidentally hit his knuckles against the plastic bottle of liquid soap which had been sitting on the shower caddy, knocking it down. It fell onto the shower floor with a dramatically loud thud, making way too much noise for the minuscule event it truly was. In fact, it derailed the less minuscule event which had been taking place. Buck’s impending orgasm. His hand stopped its movements, as he bent down quickly, retrieving the soap bottle and returning it to its rightful spot. 

But it was too late. Someone had heard the loud thud, and their protective instincts kicked in. 

“Buck?! Buck are you okay?” Yelled Eddie as he barged into the bathroom with a panicked look on his face. 

Jesus, why did Eddie’s bathroom not have a lock on it?

Buck had already been flushed before Eddie walked in, but after the door flew open, his cheeks were even more pink than they had been moments before. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just the…uh, the soap bottle fell…”, He began, explaining himself, facing the back of the shower. 

He had turned in an attempt to cover himself — Eddie had seen him naked before at work, but he didn’t want him to see that he was hard in the shower. Unfortunately, he has been to slow to react, and, unless the glass shower door suddenly became a one-way mirror, Eddie had caught a good glimpse of exactly what had been going on in that shower cubicle. 

“Buck…” Eddie said calmly. 

“Y-yeah…I’m fine. You can just go now…please,” 

“Buck, turn around,” said Eddie, still in that calm voice. 

“I, uh…I can’t do that, Eds…” For some reason, being caught had done nothing to calm down his raging boner. 

“Buck, turn around,” Repeated Eddie, just slightly louder. 

“No, Eds. You don’t get it. I, uh…I’m not uhm…decent?” 

Then, Buck heard the unmistakable sound of the glass door being opened and a cool draft on his wet skin. 

“Buck, turn around,” He repeated again, this time in a tone so commanding, Buck had no choice but to obey. 

“Eddie…” He began, wanting to explain, but finding no words. 

He swivelled around, his hands cupped over his crotch to conceal himself as best as he could, sheepishly looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. The pink tinge on his cheeks brightened when he saw that Eddie was shirtless, probably having taken his shirt off while doing the chores. 

“Buck.” 

Buck swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I-I’m sorry, Eds, I just…The couch its-” He began, trying to piece together a sentence from the scramble that was his brain. 

“Relax, Buck. I’m not mad at you,” Eddie cut him off. His words seemed genuine, though. 

“Y-you’re not?” Asked Buck, raising one eyebrow inquisitively, as he so often did. Eddie found it kind of adorable.

Eddie just shook his head, then wordlessly reached out, grabbing Buck’s arm, pulling it gently away from his body, exposing his cock. 

“Eddie what-” He began, before he was once again cut off. 

“You’re a good roommate, Buck. Sleeping on the couch so long, no privacy, I can see why you need some…personal time,” Eddie stated casually, his eyes locked on the appendage between Buck’s legs. 

Something about it made even more of Buck’s blood rush right to his dick, making it spasm slightly, and he swore he saw the Eddie’s mouth water. 

He wondered if he was dreaming, until Eddie rested his hand over Buck’s tattoo, the one on his lower abdomen, tracing it lazily. Buck’s eyes remained stuck on Eddie’s face, who in turn was still focused on the lower half of Buck’s body, almost bashfully. Was he blushing? Buck felt dizzy. 

Eddie’s hand drifted lower, giving Buck the opportunity to push it away or say something to stop him, but the only thing Buck did in response was quietly whine impatiently. Eddie took the hint, his hand gripping Buck’s cock surprisingly confident. Buck wondered if he had done that before, feeling a twinge of jealousy, before realising he was probably just used to touching himself. 

Eddie’s eyes finally flicked up to meet Bucks blue ones, heavy-lidded with the pupils blown. Buck almost whined ‘please’, but he opted to restrain himself, scared to spook the man before him. 

When Eddie’s hand began to stroke Buck’s cock, he couldn’t help himself from letting out a guttural groan. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, going on with his movements. He even spit on his hand a little before continuing, which almost made Buck pass out right in the shower. 

Buck’s hand once again shot out to grab at the tiled wall, needing to steady himself as he started the journey towards his climax again. An incoherent mixture of curses, groans and ‘Eddie’s left his lips, as his breathing became more laboured. He had already been so close before, all Eddie needed to do was get him over the threshold, which he seemed to find no trouble doing. He was a natural, but Buck thought that should have been expected. He knew Buck better than anyone, had an instinct for anything Buck-related. It made sense that it would extend to his body. 

Buck’s muscles tensed as the familiar knot of pleasure tightened in his core. Deep, short breaths. Pink lips parted. Hands grabbing at nothing against the tile. 

Then — Nothing. 

Buck’s eyes shot open in confusion. Eddie regretted touching him. 

“W-what…why’d you stop?” He panted out. 

Eddie just smirked in response, his hand wrapping back around the shaft, but not moving at all. 

“Seemed a little soon,” Eddie explained calmly, with just the hint of a smile attempting to creep up on his face. 

Buck blushed. Yes, it was quick, but he had already basically gotten himself there before Eddie walked in on him.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Eddie reassured him, like he had read his mind, “I just want to play with you a little longer.” 

Buck’s went slack-jawed. Eddie wasn’t usually so confident. He liked it. It was sexy. Once again, Eddie’s thumb grazed over the tip of Buck’s dick, gathering the pooling precum, then continued stroking the shaft with remarkable technique. This time, he stepped closer, using his free hand to cup Buck’s balls in one hand, while stroking with the other. 

Buck’s vision was blurry at this point. He was so needy. His body felt like it was on fire, tingling at every inch of exposed skin. He needed to cum so badly. Needed Eddie to keep touching him forever. Needed the pleasure not to end. But still, definitely, needing the release. 

“Please, Eds,” He whined. 

Eddie grinned, pleased. 

“Begging already?” He sounded almost sadistic. Buck had never seen this side of Eddie, but he could get used to it. 

“Mmhyeah. Need,- fuck!…I need to cum,” He continued to beg, when Eddie’s hand slowed to a halt once again. 

“Soon, cariño,” He said, but, once again, his nice words came with a sadistic tone. A tone Buck could not protest against. 

Buck could feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He could take Eddie’s teasing, but his body was a different story. He needed this. Ached for it. He needed to cum. 

His pillowy, pink lips remained parted as he recited a steady stream of pleas. Eddie obliged, stroking Buck’s cock again, only this time at an excruciatingly slow pace. It may not have been so pleasurable had Buck not been on the brink like he was. But, at this stage, with every nerve on fire, every soft, slow touch felt monumental to Buck. 

The pleas did not stop, and gradually, Eddie picked up the speed. His wrist moved expertly, as he guided Buck’s pleasure to its peak. Buck teetered on the edge for a while, his body having been pushed almost too far, but not quite. He was going to cum, whether Eddie liked it or not. 

His hands pushed against the tile, too scared to make things weird to place them where he really wanted them — on Eddie’s skin. His head fell back and his eyebrows scrunched. 

Eddie admired how beautiful he looked, even wrecked and obscene like this, his beauty was a beacon. Undeniable. His birthmark was a little darker than it sometimes appeared, and Eddie found himself wishing the position they were in allowed for him to be able to kiss it. He could have, if he really wanted to, dropped his hand from Buck’s cock to press his lips to Buck’s brow instead, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to torture the guy. Not more than necessary, anyway. 

“Go ahead, Buck. Come for me,” Eddie finally said the words Buck longed to hear. 

With some final strokes of Eddie’s hand on his cock, Buck finally fell right over the edge, his pleasure exploding in large spurts of hot cum, draping themselves in white ribbons over his own abdomen, the shower floor and Eddie’s hand. The sight on its own was intoxicating. 

As he came down, it was like all the blood rushed back into Buck’s brain. What had just happened?

He was suddenly bashful, which was strange, considering his cum was still on Eddie’s hand. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Eddie’s gaze. His heart rate refused to slow down, as the thought of possibly having to move out of Eddie’s house crossed his mind. What if everything had been ruined?

Eddie seemed far less concerned. He slid his shorts off, tossing them into the hamper, and pushed past Buck to enter the shower cubicle, shutting the glass door behind him. He turned on the water again, rinsing himself and Buck off quickly, humming a tune softly to himself. So, he wasn’t freaked out?

With great effort, Buck’s eyes finally glanced up, met with shiny, brown eyes which were so full of something Buck could only describe as love. And he knew it because he’d seen it before. In fact, he’d seen that exact look in those very same eyes before. Dozens of times probably. 

Blame It (on the Alcohol)

A/N: I’m baaAack! 

And we got our first request!!! 

I was so excited I literally screamed when I saw it in my inbox, thank you, Anon

Then... I wrote the first bit and promptly procrastinated finishing it for over a week. But fear not — It is here!

I decided to make it a little longer than my usual one-shots. Thought it was only fair since I took so long to post it and also just to show gratitude to whoever sent it <3. I’m truly geeking over the fact that people are actually enjoying my writing. When I read the req I thought it would be more fluff/plot/Teen&Up Rating, but then I started writing and it became…well, this.

So, now it’s rated E — again, wanted to treat whoever is reading these and enjoying them, so there is some smut towards the end. Also, the Title obviously is from the song, but as the author I’ve decided it’s specifically the Glee version (Yes, I am a Ryan Murphy victim, and you probably are too if you’re reading this for fun). 

I hope you enjoy this one, lovelies. It’s a little enemies to lovers moment. Little bit of fluff, little bit of smut. No ‘Y/N’ stuff bc personally that really takes me out of it when I’m reading. 

Is it weird to you if I spell in British English even though the characters are technically American? I’m not American myself so I just write the way I’m used to usually, but I wonder. 

I might end up writing a short update/prequel/drabble to this with just the smut scene from the forgotten night. Let me know if you guys want that or if this scratches the smut itch well enough on its own. Maybe some things are better left unsaid/forgotten. 

Send more reqs, I'll try not to take 2 weeks to answer them next time :)

Also…Tears by Sabrina Carpenter is so fitting for Buck/Oliver to me. Like, idk about you, but personally, the thought of (both of?) them does, indeed, get me wet :/

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Blame It (on the Alcohol)

18+| One-Shot | Evan Buckley x Reader | Requested| 7.3K 

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“Seriously?!” He complained, like he so often did.

“What now?” You asked, feeling obliged to since you were the only one within earshot of his whining. 

He just glared at you, with his lips pursed and nostrils flaring. This is how the majority of your interactions with Buck played out. 

Ever since you’d joined the 118, you had found a second family at the firehouse. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, you could hardly believe how close you had grown to these people in such a relatively short period of time. Everyone, that was, except for Buck. God, even his nickname was stupid. 

It felt like Buck enjoyed being unpleasant to you. He was curt and critical of everything you did, even when you hadn’t done anything wrong. It was really starting to get on your nerves. 

You had heard through the grapevine that Buck was tough on probies. Someone had even mentioned the words “chased around” and “chainsaw” in a sentence once, and you thought it had to be a baseless rumour, except after experiencing being a 118 probie, you were inclined to believe that there was truth to it. 

Except, you had finally worked your last shift as a probie. 

Having completed a whole year on the job, you were about to be properly welcomed into the Los Angeles Fire Department, and consequently, hopefully, gain the respect of your peers. Or at least you hoped so.

Now that you were no longer a probationary firefighter, you would no longer Buck’s subordinate, and he had to start treating you as an equal. 

There was a small formal ceremony where you were officially promoted, but the 118, being a tight-knit bunch, took every opportunity to party, so they planned a little get-together to celebrate your achievement. 

Over the past year, you had become well-acquainted with the friends and family of the 118, and this was not the first time you had been to one of their houses to celebrate a milestone or holiday, but you were touched when they decided to throw a party in your honour; a sign that they had truly embraced you into their little group.

The party was set to be held at the end of the week, so, before celebrating anything, you showed up to the firehouse to work your first shift as a proper, honest-to-God, non-probationary firefighter.

You walked in with your head held high and a renewed sense of confidence. Up on the loft level, Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Eddie were sat around the table drinking coffee and when you climbed up, they each congratulated you with warm smiles. 

Then, a loud, bellowing voice called out your last name from the staircase, followed by the sound heavy boots marching up the stairs. Buck appeared at the top of the stairs with a scowl painted on his face. 

“Floor needs mopping,” He grunted in your general direction.

You just stared surprised, expecting him to maybe soften up a little and congratulate you like the others had, before barking out orders to mop. So, you waited a beat, thinking maybe he was razzing you, and was going to burst out laughing any second —He didn’t. The rest of the team seemed equally puzzled. 

“She’s not a probie anymore, Buck,” Chimney chimed in to your aid. 

“I know. That’s why I used her last name,” he said matter-of-factly, walking right past you to the kitchen. 

You swallowed your pride and made your way to the stairs before Bobby told you to stay and drink your coffee first, before starting the chores, then reminded Buck that he is not the Captain and doesn’t get to give orders. 

As the day went on, you began to realise that Buck’s attitude towards you had not changed with the end of your probation. If anything, the way he was acting around you during this shift was a digression. 

It bothered you that he would be so blatantly rude, especially now that there was no longer a professional hierarchy for him to uphold. He was just purposely being an asshole.

Despite what you had heard, about Buck’s treatment of probies, you had also heard that he was a goofball with a heart of gold to the rest of his coworkers. People actually used the words “golden retriever” to describe him. Well, with you, he was acting more like a rabid Rottweiler. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you still couldn’t believe that anyone would ever be inclined to compare the person you knew as Buck to a golden retriever. 

You had seen him interact with the rest of the team. He was always sweet to them. You seemed to get on his nerves. Even the cadence of his voice changed when he spoke to you. Deeper. More intimidating. You found yourself wishing you could uninvite him to the party, like a middle schooler holding a grudge, but despite how unprofessional he seemed to be, you refused to stoop to his level. 

The weekend rolled around, and it was the day of your party. Bobby and Athena graciously offered to host the party in their backyard, which was decorated with twinkling lights and a banner of congratulations. When you got there, the yard was already crawling with people: your coworkers, their spouses, and a small army of children wreaking havoc. 

The smile on your face widened when you realised that none of the faces in the small crowd of people belonged to Buck. The joy is short-lived, though, when soon after, Buck strolls in, fashionably late. He seemed different than he did at work. More relaxed. He even…smiled at you? Was your vision playing tricks on you? Did he have something in his eye he was trying to blink away?

Buck came up to you, handing you a cold beer, then clinked his own beer bottle against yours. You fought the reflex to thank him, instead taking a long swig. He smirked like he was amused at your little act of defiance, but you didn’t engage. Instead, you turned your attention to Eddie, continuing the conversation the two of you were having before you were rudely interrupted. 

As the party went on, you had a few more drinks, but nothing too crazy. It was a work event, after all. At your Captain’s home, no less. 

It started getting late, and, not wanting to inconvenience Bobby and Athena by hanging around too long, people began to slowly file out. You were still full of energy and suggested that you move the party to a bar. Hen and Karen declined the invitation, seeing as they were there with their kids. Chimney and Maddie too. Eddie, however, agreed, since Christopher already had plans to sleep over at Hen and Karen’s place. 

Unfortunately, wherever Eddie goes, Buck follows. When he heard Eddie agree to extending the party, Buck was quick to swoop in and invite himself too. The three of you took an Uber to a nearby dive bar. Unbeknownst to you, you were out with the party kings, as it turned out. The night quickly got out of hand. You attracted a crowd of partygoers who were buying you drinks left and right, shooting shots together, and dancing to every song.

All three of you became heavily intoxicated. So drunk, in fact, someone had decided it was time to end the night and call an Uber home. You, Buck and Eddie swayed on the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to order the cab and add each of your addresses to the destination, typing into the phone. 

You remembered that part semi-clearly, in fact. You definitely put in your address. Which is why what happened next was all the more confusing. 

—————

You stir awake slowly, eyes still closed and face smushed into the pillow. You can already feel the way your head is pounding, and you would rather postpone opening your eyes to sunlight as far as possible. The first thing you notice is that your pillow feels…different. You can also tell that you are completely naked under the covers, which checks out. You probably got home too drunk to change into your pjs. Typical after a night out. 

Then, something really weird happens. The covers move, pulled slightly off your body. The unmistakable sound of a person’s shifting body weight and a soft groan coming from your left. Now you have to open your eyes. 

You brace yourself, lifting yourself a little to look over. You can barely see anything under the mountain of white fabric, but you see enough. A little tuft of dark blond curls peeking through between the sheets. Your eyes are now wide open and you feel frozen in place. 

It can’t be…but…but.

The sleeping giant next to you shifts again, this time turning his body towards you, arm coming around and dropping over you, almost crushing you. 

Yeah. It definitely is. 

He’s very clearly still fast asleep, but his arm grabs onto you, his body pulling yours closer in sleep. 

You contemplate your life choices and how the hell you ended up in bed with him. You try to recall anything that could maybe explain this away. Nothing resurfaces. The last thing you remember is leaving the bar, typing your address into the Uber app on someone’s phone…Eddie’s phone? Then you seem to remember flashes of being in a car, sitting in the middle, smushed between your two coworkers. That’s all you can come up with.

The torn up piece of foil shining on the nightstand and the soreness you feel between your thighs confirm what you already know to be true. 

You had sex with Buck last night. 

———

This cannot be happening.

You feel like screaming but you definitely can’t risk waking him up. How much did you drink? You didn’t think any amount of alcohol could convince you to do this. Him. It’s not like he was unattractive. In fact, you hated just how hot you thought he was. How infuriating it was that the jerk from work was so undeniably sexy, casually lifting your body weight in his stupid cutoff shirts that showed off his stupid sculpted shoulders and stupid veiny biceps in the middle of the firehouse gym. 

He stirs in his sleep, tightening his grip on you, and you can see a fresh little lovebite right on the edge of where his shoulder meets his neck. It almost makes you groan out loud —from embarrassment, of course. 

He seems so different this way. His face relaxed, lips slightly parted. So pink, and bitten and close. He snores softly, too, which almost makes you giggle. You wish the snores were the only sounds to come from those lips, instead of barked orders and quiet murmurs of disapproval.

He looks…cute?, You think. All peaceful and flushed and pretty. Definitely pretty. 

You quickly snap out of it. You need to get out of his bed. Out of his apartment. Out of his arms. That was gonna be tough. His arm was heavy, draped over you, pulling you close. You wouldn’t be able to slip out without moving him and moving him would wake him. You definitely don’t want to wake him. 

You decide to do the only thing you can do and just wait it out. So you stay still, waiting until he shifts again and moves his arm off you so you can slip out inconspicuously. 

Except he doesn’t. It seems like an eternity. The only times he moves, he somehow pulls you in closer, and at some point he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. You just lay there, trying to ignore the way his hot breath on your skin makes something flutter in the depths of your stomach. 

Then something weird happens. He shifts a little again, his hand caressing your arm, and nose still pressed into your neck. That’s when you feel it. The gentlest, softest kiss, planted right in the crook your neck. For such a light touch, it knocks the air from your lungs. 

Then, while you’re trying to recalibrate yourself, something even stranger happens. He says something. His voice is gravelly and quiet, but it’s unmistakable. 

He says your name. 

Your first name. Not ‘probie’. Not your last name. Just your name, plain and simple. Just one whisper, but for a second you think it was the only way you ever wanted to hear your name spoken from now on. 

Then he finally shifts, moving his arm off you, freeing you from the embrace. You snap into focus, slipping away until you roll off the bed. You begin the search for your clothes, shuffling around stark naked in his room. You find one shoe next to the stair, your bra on the nightstand, and your dress on the floor, in a pile with his pants. Downstairs you find your other shoe and your jacket. You get dressed quickly, realising you never found your underwear. You’re torn between going back up to look for them or leaving, but you hear the bed creak again and decide to just cut your losses and run out of there. 

————

It’s now a new day. You walk into the firehouse once again, for the start of a new shift, a little nervous about seeing Buck again. You two didn’t speak about whatever happened. In fact, you hadn’t spoken at all since that night. It wasn’t unusual, after all, you weren’t exactly close. Except now you knew what his lips felt like on the skin of your neck. And, presumably, your subconscious knew what his lips felt like on other parts of your body, too. 

When you step into the locker room, Buck’s there, back to you, with his shirt off. Of-fucking-course. You can see the fading bruise of the lovebite on his shoulder when he lifts his arms up to slip on his LAFD T-shirt. 

You clear your throat to alert him of your presence, and he glances towards you. There’s no scowl on his face this time. In fact, his expression is unreadable.

The rest of the day, there’s no snide remarks, no jabs, no teasing. In fact, it seems like he’s avoiding you. Your stomach is in knots. Did he remember? Did you forget something important? Something bad? You hated not being able to remember; forced to wonder what could have possibly happened to change his attitude towards you so drastically. 

In the evening, you try to get some rest in the bunks but you can’t seem to sleep. You grow frustrated and decide to go to the kitchen to make yourself some tea instead. When you get there, you find Buck at the table, sitting alone in the dim light. You contemplate turning back down the stairs, but he already looked up at you, and it would be weirder to leave now. So, instead, you walk past him casually, turning on the kettle. 

“Hey, uh…Can I ask you something?” He asks from behind you. You groan inside. 

“Yeah, sure. What is it?” You answer, turning and steadying yourself against the countertop. His gaze is still focused away from you as he speaks. 

“After your party…”

Oh, God. Here we go. You think. 

“Did we, uh…” He continues, “…Have sex?” 

You try to keep your expression neutral. So, he didn’t remember it either? 

“Why do you think that?” You ask, trying hard to keep your voice steady. 

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, “Found a pair of lacy panties tangled up in my sheets when I was making the bed…they weren’t exactly my size, so…” 

You purse your lips, “That’s it?” 

“And some…other stuff. Anyway, did we?” 

“Why do you assume it was me? We were drinking with all those people at the bar.”

“Yes, right. Exactly. And that’s what I thought too, but…” He begins. 

“But what?” You ask, and his brow is furrowed but the corners of his mouth are upturned. 

“Well, I seem to remember an Uber ride, after we left the bar. With you and Eddie. And unless Eddie’s started wearing lacy thongs…” 

The kettle finishes boiling and you thank your lucky stars for the distraction, turning away from him to steep your tea, hiding the way your face was burning. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just…I can’t really remember what happened. I just woke up alone really confused. So, if you can shed some light,” he says. 

“Well, I can’t.” 

“No, yeah. It must have been someone else, then I guess.” 

Did he sound disappointed? 

“No, I mean…” You take a deep breath, and a sip of tea, hoping it would help calm your nerves but it just scalds your tongue, “I don’t remember much either.” 

His eyebrows shoot up at your words. 

“S-so it was you?”

You cringe a little, “Uh, well…yeah. I woke up in your bed,” You whisper, desperately hoping the ground would open and swallow you whole, “didn’t exactly remember how I got there. Or why.” 

His expression turns coy, “‘why’?” He echoes.

“Yeah, ‘why’. You’re not exactly nice to me, usually. I mean you-”

You’re cut off by the alarm, signalling a call coming in. You drop the mug of tea in the sink and the two of you rush downstairs, putting on your turnouts. 

The next morning, you sit on the roof watching the sunrise. You’re exhausted, having gotten no sleep the whole shift. You hear the door swing open and you hope it’s not Buck. When you turn to look, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Hen coming to sit next to you. 

She takes one look at you and knows something off. God, did you really look that mopey? 

“Come on. Say it. What’s wrong?” She asks. 

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” 

“Oh, please. Do not pretend right now. Save us both the time and just tell me what happened,” She orders. 

“Fine.”

“I knew it!” 

“Knew what? I haven’t said anything yet,” You protest. 

“Okay, but I knew something was up. Go on. Spill,” She encourages. 

“Well…you know how after the party last time, Eddie and Buck and I went to a bar…” You begin. The look on Hen’s face tells you she already understood exactly where this was going. 

“Buck or Eddie?” She asks simply. You groan.

“Buck.”

She looks like she’s stifling laughter, pursing her lips with an amused look on her features. 

“I know, I know. Stupid. I just…I don’t know. We got really drunk. I don’t even remember it,” You explain and she frowns. 

“Wait, did he…take advantage of you?” 

“No, no. It’s not like that. He doesn’t remember anything either. I just think I momentarily forgot that he hates me around the 6th drink.”

“You mean you forgot that you hate him,” she corrects. 

“What’s the difference?” You ask. 

“The difference is Buck definitely doesn’t hate you,” she asserts. 

“Oh, come on, Hen. You’ve seen how he talks to me. How he treats me.”

“Well, Buck doesn’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to this kind of thing. He just gets weirdly jealous and destructive. Which, I know, is ridiculous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s totally into you.”

You scoff. 

“I know he has a…strange way of showing it, but trust me. I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you.” 

“And, how does he look at me?” You ask. 

“Like he’s hopelessly falling in love,” she states, matter-of-factly. 

You want to protest, scoff again, or roll your eyes into the back of your head. Maybe even fling yourself off the roof just to prove a point. But it was almost like her words froze you solid. 

Could it be? Was Buck in love with you? Sorry,—hopelessly— in love with you. It didn’t make any sense. What did Hen even mean by that? You barely ever saw him look at you. Every time your eyes were on him, he seemed to look right past you, averting his gaze to anything else, unless he was scowling, in which case his eyes would turn to daggers pointed right at you.

Except the way he kissed your neck that morning still rings through your mind. Impossible to forget or ignore. Your name on his tongue. He may have been asleep but even in sleep he knew it was you he was kissing. Or if he didn’t know, he certainly wanted it to be you. 

“Henrietta Wilson, have you lost your mind?” You ask with a smile.

“Call me that again and see what happens,” she threatens and you laugh. In fact, you couldn’t close your mouth if you tried. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, the idea of Buck being in love with you, at the very least amused you. At the very worst, terrified the shit out of you. 

“I think you need to talk this out with him,” She continues. 

“And say what?”

“Well, first you should probably figure out what you feel,” she states, “So, how do you feel? Do you like Buck?” 

“N-no, well, maybe, kinda. No. He’s so mean to me. But…He is really, you know, attractive,” your cheeks feel boiling, “And yeah, when I’m around him sometimes it’s…a little hard to breathe, but that’s only because he’s so infuriating and…”

“…And?” Hen wills you to continue. You can only think about how his arm felt around you. How his body heat felt against yours. How his lips on your skin left invisible ink, electrical impulses. How the way he whispered your name made you finally feel like your name suited you. How you wanted so desperately to recover the missing memories, to know what it was like to have him.

“…And, I think I maybe do…like him, yeah.” 

“Great. So, talk to him. Ask him what he’s thinking and feeling. See if you two are on the same page,” She suggested. You just nodded silently. 

A few days passed since your conversation with Hen on the roof. Despite her counsel, you hadn’t made time to speak to Buck. 

Now, you were home, in your own apartment, finishing up some dishes and getting ready for a quiet night in. That’s when the doorbell rings. 

You dry your hands on a tea towel and head to the door, looking through the peep hole. 

Buck?! 

You open the door, confused more than anything. 

“How do you know where I live?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. He grins. 

“Good evening, to you, too. Is this how you greet all your guests? Not very hospitable, are you?” He teases. 

“Guest implies invited,” You retort. 

“I asked Hen,” He answered your first question. 

“What are you doing here, then?” You ask. 

He holds up a pair of lacy black panties, which he seems to have washed. “Came to return this to its rightful owner.” 

You grab his wrist and pull him inside, hoping none of your neighbours were in the hallway and saw any of that. He just laughs. 

“What is wrong with you?!” 

“Oh, come on, are you actually upset? Don’t you want them back?” He sees the frustration on your face, “Okay, hey. Listen, I know we kinda got off on a weird foot…” 

“Buck…we’ve known each other for a whole year. I don’t think ‘got off on the wrong foot’ applies here.” 

“You’re right. Yes. But, considering recent developments, maybe we should just…talk about it. Squash this…thing between us. Whatever it is.”

Your heart sinks at the idea of ‘squashing’ whatever was going on between the two of you, but you kept your expression stoic. 

“It was a drunken mistake, Buck.”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t mean that. I mean, me. Okay, I’m making this about myself, aren’t I. Damn it. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. Okay? I’ve been a dick to you. I tried to convince myself I was just trying to be hard on you to train you well, but…”

“But what?”

“But, now you’re not a probie anymore. So, I’m out of excuses,” He explains. 

“So…you’re just a dick” you clarify. 

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his neck, “Except also, maybe I’m an idiot, too?” 

“Maybe?” 

“Okay, I’m an idiot. Can I be honest with you for a minute?” He asks, and you just nod. “I think maybe the reason I’ve been such a dick to you is because I have some…complicated feelings.”

“Complicated? Complicated how?” You ask, trying not to sound too eager. 

“Complicated like the day you walked into the firehouse for the first time I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” 

“oh” 

“Yeah. And, listen, I know you don’t like me. I mean, why would you. I’ve made an ass of myself for an entire year-”

“Yeah, you have,” you cut him off. 

“Right. Uh, I just mean, I know it’s not an excuse. I’ve been trying to work on it. But I just wanted you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong and there’s no bad blood on my end. I just…lost my mind a little,” a faint pink hue brushes over his cheeks.

“Anyway, uhh, here. I washed them for you…Hope that’s not weird. It seemed weirder to return them used. Don’t worry, I used the delicate cycle on the washing machine and some really nice fabric softener. It’s meant to smell like peonies. I know you like those…so, yeah. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. And, again, I’m sorry.” 

“No, Buck. Wait!” You call out, holding your arms steady on your side so they don’t shake, “Do you want a drink? Maybe something non-alcoholic this time?” 

He raises his eyebrow confusedly, but the smirk on his face tells you he will take you up on the invitation. 

The two of you sip tea on the couch. It’s a little awkward. After all, you’ve never really spoken much to each other, and the fact that you had sex that neither of you remembers it hangs over both of your heads like a dark cloud. 

Except, you say something dumb and it makes him laugh, and he whispers your name again. The way he said it in bed that morning. And it sends a shiver down your spine, which he notices—he notices everything about you. 

Few words are exchanged after that.

Your name, again. A smirk on his lips. Another shiver down your spine. The smirk grows into satisfied grin. 

His finger on your cheek. Bated breath. A ‘w-what’re you d-?’ from you, cut off by the creak of the sofa when he scoots closer, finger still resting gently on your face. 

A ‘can I?’ from him. You just nod minutely, like you don’t want to be implicated if things go south. 

Then his lips, your lips. Touching. Kissing. Crashing. Familiar in taste, like an old perfume that transports you back in time. You’ve kissed those lips before. Hell, you’d tasted every part of him. Still, you want more. He seems to have the same idea, you think as his tongue licks into your mouth. 

His strong hand is on your thigh, fingers digging into the skin, nails bitten to the quick, just as they always were. You relish the familiarity. 

He doesn’t push further, keeping his hand at a respectable position on your thigh. Definitely suggestive, but not imposing. He’d never impose. Not this. The ache in his core was hard to ignore, but that was his own problem to deal with if you weren’t up for more. 

Luckily for both of you, you definitely are up for more.

Your hands cup his face on both sides, and you push yourself closer to him, simultaneously pulling him closer to you. 

“Want you…again,” you whisper breathlessly into his mouth. This seems to fan the flames, making him audibly groan back into your mouth, and his hands moves with a renewed sense of purpose slowly up your thigh. You tug desperately at his shirt, wanting to rip it off him. He helps you undress him, then yourself. 

You keep kissing, skin, lips, all of it, tangled up on the couch, until he breaks the kiss, pulling away from you a little. You almost begin to blush until he makes his intentions clear. He wasn’t about to stop this. Not even close. 

“I wanna do this right,” he professes, fighting his urge to look down at your naked body. He does surprisingly well at maintaining eye contact despite how badly he ached to ogle you. Can you blame him? 

“What does that mean?” You ask with a little giggle that sounds pornographic to him in this moment. He goes to speak, getting a mischievous glint in his eye, and a goofy grin on his lips. 

“You like me back, right?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes and he protests. 

“No, don’t be like that. Come on. I was so vulnerable, telling you how I feel. Just give me one moment. Be real with me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He waits for you to answer. 

Your lips part but your tongue is tied for a second. Then you finally speak, “you were vulnerable after a year of machismo bullshit-“ 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I was a dick. But, please, sweetheart. Just…say it,” He cuts you off, pleading for you to say what he already knows. 

You sigh defeatedly, “Yes, Buck, I like you back.” 

That immediately makes his face light up. He leans in and whispers, “Good girl” before capturing your lips and resuming the needy kiss. 

His hands wrap around your body and, without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, lifting you onto his body.

You knew he was strong —one look at him was enough to deduce that—but you didn’t realise he’d use that strength to gently manhandle you like this. The feeling of being suspended makes you giggle, “Buck, what are you doing?!” you ask through laughter. 

“Hey, I told you. Wanna do this right,” He grins against your lips and your teeth clack a little, “now, which door’s your bedroom?” 

He carries you through the hall and into your room, before gently setting you on the bed, then taking a step back, eyeing you with intensity, making you blush crimson. 

“Just wanna make sure I remember every part this time,” he speaks softly, leaving a trail of kisses from your knee up to your upper thigh, “Wanna memorise your body. Your pretty sounds. What you like,…All of it.” 

His fingers ghost over your panties, applying pressure. He smiles amused, “So wet for me already, sweetheart?” His lips continue kissing your thighs, as he murmurs perfect over and over, like a broken record. 

You mewl softly each time his mouth inches ever so close to where you need him most, not quite touching. You’re still in your underwear but you can feel the heat from his breath through the fabric, which is only making this more torturous.

“Buck…” You plead.

“What’s that, sweetheart? There something you want,” He grins, and you want to reach out and slap that smile right off his face. Haven’t you suffered enough because of him? 

He seems to have the same epiphany, because he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties —which are unfortunately decidedly less sexy than the lace thong he had you in last time but he doesn’t seem too concerned with that at the moment — and begins to pull them down your legs.

Once you’re free, he wastes no time, burying his face right into the spot where your thighs meet. You feel his nose first, before you feel his tongue, then after a beat, his fingers begin circling around your opening. You can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing, expertly working his tongue, rocking his whole head against you, drawing obscene sounds from your lips. Your noises make all the blood in his body rush to one single region, and now he’s lightheaded, but he’s never been happier. 

He laps over your clit in a relentless rhythm, kissing it like he was kissing your other lips earlier. At some point, his fingers stop tracing your opening, and instead, he slips them into you, one after the other. He curves them up, massaging the spongy texture inside you. His fingers on your g-spot combined with the clitoral stimulation from his tongue make you writhe under his touch. 

He can tell you’re close, which only eggs him on to keep going steady, stimulating you from inside and out. You feel the pressure build at the base of your core and your fingers tighten around his curls as your toes begin to tingle and the dam breaks. Your impulse is to squeeze your thighs shut, but Buck’s strong hold keeps them pushed open, presented like a meal to him, and he doesn’t let up. Your legs quiver and vibrate as his tongue works your through your orgasm, and you have to physically tug him off you from his hair to stop him when it becomes too overwhelming.  

When you look down at him, that goofy grin is plastered right on his pretty face and you have the urge to both smack it off him with a pillow, and simultaneously to kiss it off him. He doesn’t give you much time to decide which one to go with, climbing up to face level and kissing you deeply. He tastes like pussy and you can’t help but moan a little, which obviously pleases him from the way he hums. 

You want him. Need him. So, you tug gently on his boxers but his hand swats yours away, calling you ‘greedy’ between kisses. Instead, he moves his focus to your chest. His hands cup your boobs through your bra, then slip under the fabric, pinching your nipples between his fingers just enough to make you feel electrified. His hand slips under your back and you arch off the mattress to give him access to the clasp. Soon, the bra is on the bedroom floor and his soft, pink lips are latched onto your nipple, while he plays with your other breast. When he switches, he lightly grazes your nipple with his teeth. It doesn’t hurt but the sensation shoots directly to your still-sensitive clit, making you mewl. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, make those pretty little noises for me,” he coaxes. You can’t help but oblige. 

His mouth moves on you, from your nipple, to the flesh of your breasts, all the way up your neck. He shifts for better access and his clothed cock brushes against your bare cunt, making you arch your back and push your hips closer to his. He doesn’t tease or stop you this time, clearly his self-control is also hanging on by a thread. He wants this. He needs you. Now. 

He tugs off his boxers in on fell swoop and his cock springs out, already hard and throbbing. The tip glistens with precum. Teasing you had just as much of an effect on him as it had on you. You can’t help but stare at his cock. It doesn’t surprise you that it’s pretty — that much you assumed, just from looking at the rest of him. What really renders you speechless is the size of it. You can’t believe you’d taken that, and even more how you could have possibly forgotten taking that. No wonder the soreness that lasted for a couple days after. 

Buck noticed your admiration, clearly enjoying the stroke to his ego. His hand wrapped around his cock, tugging just slightly, spreading the precum onto the rest of his length. 

“Don’t you want me to give you head?” You ask. He just chuckles softly, like what you’re suggesting is so completely ridiculous. 

“Not right now, baby. Right now I just need to have you,” He confesses, “Come closer, sweetheart.” 

His arms grab your thighs and pull you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading you open. He slips his cock between your slick folds, rubbing both his own length and you with your arousal. Then he stops moving altogether.

“Fuck!” He grunts. You just raise your eyebrow quizzically. 

“We used a condom last time. I didn’t bring one with me, today. This isn’t exactly where I thought tonight was heading,” he explains. 

“Nightstand. Bottom drawer,” You breathe out, staying still while he reaches over to open the drawer, “but, Buck…I don’t, I mean…I have an IUD.” 

He freezes, foil wrapper still in hand, “A-are you sure?” 

“Yeah…I mean, I haven’t had a new partner in a while. Not since the last time I got tested. Apart from…well, you,” You blush. 

“Me neither…” 

You watch as he tosses the condom, hovering over you instead. His gaze is focused on your face, burning holes.

“I wanna see what your face does when I fuck you, sweetheart. Wanna save the memory,” he says, brushing a stray strand away from your face.  

“Jesus, fuck!” You exclaim, partly from his filthy comments and partly from how he’s pressing his tip just barely into you. 

“Does it hurt, baby?” 

You shake your head, no. “Feels…good,” You pant, and he pushes in a little more. This time the noise it louder. 

“That’s it. Yeah, let me see that pretty face. So good, lemme hear those noises,” he coos, pushing himself slowly into your warm, wet cunt. The way your body welcomes him makes him see stars. He fights against the impulse to squeeze his eyes shut. He was serious about remembering every moment. He needs to see you through every moment of this. 

He buries himself completely inside you and a mangled groan comes out of his throat. Your nails scratch his back as you claw at him to pull him impossibly closer. 

“Fuck, baby…How the hell did I forget this?” He groans. 

“N-need more. Please, Evan,” you plead. His real name on your tongue makes him shudder. He’s not sure why but he likes it coming from you. Although, he’s fairly certain there wasn’t anything you could do right now that he wouldn’t like. 

“Patience, sweetheart. Just, let me enjoy you like this first,” he whispers. 

His hand comes up to cup your cheek and he kisses you. Slow this time. Tender. It almost feels wrong, a kiss that intimate, when a second ago you were about to start begging him to fuck you. But, of course, it’s perfectly right. He channels all his confusing, overwhelming emotions into the kiss, and soon, it turns desperate. That’s when he gives you what you want. 

He thrusts his hips, in and out. He starts off slow, but very soon, he’s fucking you at a steady pace, making obscene slapping sounds with each contact of his skin with yours. His cock pulls back almost all the way out of you each time. Then, each time, it returns with a driving force, stopping only when the tip of it comes into contact with your cervix. You cringe a little on the first few thrusts, bracing yourself for pain or discomfort, but it doesn’t come. Pretty soon, the only look on your face is bliss. 

Buck can see the effect he’s having on you. How you’ve come undone beneath his body, like putty in his hands. He looks at you with nothing but affection. Adoration. Something close to worship. You have all his attention. 

“Look at you, taking me so well. You’re my good girl, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear. You can’t bring yourself to try to speak. 

“You know what you have to do now, right, sweet girl? You know how to be a good girl for me?” He asks in such a sweet and sexy voice, it makes you short-circuit. You shake your head a little and he chuckles. 

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll tell you, then.” He speeds up just slightly, making you moan louder. 

“What you have to do now, sweetheart, is—it’s really simple, you just have to cum on my cock. D’you think you can do that, baby?” 

Your eyes roll back. What kind of a fucking freak is this guy? His words alone push you closer to the edge. You manage to nod this time, letting him know you’re close. He smiles, bringing his fingers to your clit. That’s all it takes. In a matter of seconds you’re writhing and gasping, grasping at him while he keeps you steady, clenching and cumming on him. 

He leans in, lips brushing your ear, and asks, “Can I cum inside you, baby? Or do you want it somewhere else?” 

You nod frantically, trying to recover from your second orgasm of the night, “Inside,” you manage to croak out. 

It doesn’t take long before he stills deep inside you, hands holding your body as close as he can, while he spills deep inside you, filling you like you belong to him. 

The two of you are still, tangled up in each other’s limbs. His softening cock is still buried deep in your cunt, where he prefers it. His big arms hold you against his chest, and you let yourself relax into his embrace. His lips press soft, chaste kisses all over your face. 

Then, he says it again. Whispers your name in his wrecked voice. It makes you shiver, like clockwork.

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

A/N: Another Buddie fic! It's just over 4k. I was kinda blocked then this just poured out of me so...yay! It's meant to take place after S8 finale. It's kinda fluffy, very cute. happy ending/requited, feel-good Buddie stuff. Also, kinda couch theory! No smut in this one (shocker, I know). Also, title is from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift.

Fluff | Buddie | One-Shot | 4k

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What the fuck just happened?

Eddie sits in his car, staring at his hands on the steering wheel, but not actually starting the car. The steering wheel is, in fact, the only thing keeping his hands from shaking. It’s not a big deal, right? RIGHT?!

Oh, God. What was he even thinking. Well, that’s kind of the issue. He wasn’t really thinking. He was already running a little late before, but now, sitting in his unmoving car, with his slack jaw, he was definitely not getting to work on time. 

The morning had started off just like every morning had the past few weeks. Buck was still living in the Diaz household — The couch had a dent about 6’2” in length. He didn’t seem to mind though, as the hunt for a new apartment had slowed down to a halt.

Eddie wasn’t in any rush to kick him out, anyway. If he was being honest, it was nice to have his best friend around. They were at each other’s houses all the time anyway, this cut down the travel time, and that’s always a good thing when considering LA traffic. Chris liked having Buck around, too, having grown accustomed to a three-person household while living in Texas with his grandparents.

The three of them had fell into a comfortable rhythm. Carpooling to the station, cooking together (well, Buck cooks while Eddie does dishes or, more often, leans against the counter listening to Buck talk on and on about whatever was going through his mind on any given day), and doing chores that only really require one person together as a family. 

This morning was no different than the few dozen mornings they had already spent together —get up, get dressed, have breakfast, drive to work— except for one little thing. On their last shift, Buck had suffered a minor injury. It was nothing too bad, especially in the Grand Scheme of Buck Injuries, but it was his bad leg and he was in more pain than he cared to admit to anyone.

The doctor recommended he stay home for a little longer, and therefore miss today’s shift. Now, Buck would have normally paid no mind to doctor’s orders, but seeing as Chris was on Summer vacation from school, he thought it would be a good time to spend a one-on-one day with him, the way they used to, especially after how much Buck had missed Chris while he was away. He thought that maybe they could spend the nice Summer day by the beach, then quickly decided against it…just to be safe. 

Now, this is when things took a turn. He was sitting at the kitchen table, shoving heaping spoons of cereal into his mouth with one hand while his other hand scrolled through his phone, looking through lists of suitable places he and Chris could visit around the city. He was pretty distracted. Between the multitasking and the way his brain was always racing, it was safe to say he wasn’t completely paying attention to his surroundings. Chris was sitting across from him, eating his own bowl of cereal when Eddie emerged from the bedroom in a rush. 

“Dad, aren’t you gonna eat with us?” Asked Chris when he saw the state his father was in.

“I’ll just have something at the station. If I don’t leave right now, I’m gonna be late,” Spoke Eddie. 

The whole exchange was nothing more than background noise for a distracted Buck, brow furrowed and focused on finding a place to take Chris where they could safely avoid a natural disaster.

And that's when it happened. 

Eddie, slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder, leaned down and kissed the side of Chris’s head saying, “Love you.”

Buck didn't move his eyes. He barely managed to mumble out a “bye” before he felt it. Eddie’s lips on his cheek. A soft, tender peck to the side of his face, before rushing out the door and shutting it loudly behind him. Buck was still for a second, unsure if what had happened had even really happened. He was pretty sure it did. The way his face felt boiling basically confirmed it. He looked up over his phone at Chris, raising his eyes without moving his head. Chris seemed to be too busy scrolling on his own phone (Buck makes a mental note to stop using his phone at the table to be a better influence), to notice whatever had happened. 

Buck got up quickly, pushing the chair behind him with a loud sound which made Chris finally pay attention. He grabbed the dishes and discarded them into the sink haphazardly.

“Okay, come on, get your shoes on. We’re going to the Observatory,” He said, finally deciding on a location. 

“Observatory?” Asked Chris, tilting his head. 

“It’s either that or the zoo,” Said Buck, with his hands on his hips. 

Chris nodded, “Observatory it is,” he sighed. As much as he enjoyed going to the zoo with Buck, it was high time they found another spot to go to besides the zoo. 

Buck turned towards the sink, holding onto the edges and breathed in deeply. What the hell had just happened? Surely, it was nothing, right? RIGHT?!

And surely the undeniable fact that his heart fluttered when Eddie’s lips touched his skin was also nothing, right? The way his face was still flushed, the imprint of those lips branded into his cheek, all of it was just…nothing. Right?!

Buck held onto the sink trying to steady his breathing. That’s when he heard Eddie’s car pull out of the parking spot and drive off.

What took him so long to drive away? 

———————

Eddie finally gathers the courage to start the car and drive to the firehouse. He’s still a little bit dazed and he isn’t completely sure he should be driving right now. He somehow makes it into his parking spot without a scratch, but his mind is still reeling. That was so humiliating, like accidentally calling your teacher ‘mommy’ in class.

That’s all that was bothering him —the embarrassment. There was nothing else, no tightness in his chest. He wasn’t thinking about how Buck’s skin smelled from such close proximity. He was definitely not thinking about how soft his cheek was, or how it could make someone want to kiss it all the time. 

It was just a force of habit. He was in a rush. He hadn’t even had his coffee yet…well, his second coffee, but still. He was just trying to get out of the house as quickly as possible, without forgetting to kiss Chris goodbye and his brain, or his body, got a little confused. Leaned in mindlessly. It was just a little cheek kiss. That’s not even a big deal. Friends do that stuff. If they were in Europe they would kiss on the cheek all the time. Eddie wonders if they should take a vacation to Paris—No. Focus! 

Surely, Buck completely forgot all about Eddie’s little blunder by now. He probably hadn’t even thought twice about it. Sure, it wasn’t the norm for them but it was also just a kiss on the cheek, for crying out loud. It’s nothing. He didn’t even flinch before Eddie left the kitchen, definitely too preoccupied with his food and his phone to pay any mind to some meaningless cheek kiss. 

Eddie keeps himself busy at the station, cleaning the truck with extra care. He spends more time than usual in the gym. He even volunteers to cook but is quickly shut down by Chim. When the alarm sounds, he actually smiles. He’s never been so happy to get a call. He’s almost tempted to say the Q word, just to make sure he didn’t have to sit with his thoughts for even a second. What is he even talking about? He doesn’t believe in that superstitious nonsense. Buck’s ridiculous ideas had started to rub off on him. Either way, he wants nothing more than to be made busy, and keep his mind off whatever was going on in that head of his. 

He isn’t sure exactly what it is. Honestly, he’s scared that if he thinks too hard about it, he’ll end up having another panic attack, and winding up in the ER and having to answer Buck’s relentless questions about why he had been panicking seems nightmarish. 

He keeps his phone tucked away in his pocket all through the shift, just in case Chris needed something or there was an actual emergency, but never once does he send a text to check in on Buck. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. The two of them are usually together on shift so he doesn’t need to text him. When they’re off…they’re usually also together. He decides against texting Buck, but does text Chris just to make sure they were doing alright. 

“How’s Buck?” Asks Hen, seeing Eddie’s phone in his hands. 

“Huh?” He answers, caught off guard. 

“Buck? His leg? He’s still living with you, isn’t he?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, he’s okay. He’s taking Chris…somewhere. His leg is fine, he’ll be back next shift.” 

Hen just nods, but the look on her face says more than words ever could. 

——————

Buck and Chris are in a dark auditorium watching images of stars and planets swooshing above them. They both look up in awe; it's like Buck is an expanded mirror image of Chris. Buck tries to focus on the voice that booms out from the speaker describing what they are looking at, but when he sees the sparkling stars against the dark backdrop, all he can think about is how Eddie’s eye sparkle just like that sometimes—Jesus, Buck, get a grip. 

It had been a couple hours since breakfast. Why on Earth was he still dwelling on nothing. A kiss on the cheek? That’s all it takes to derail his life? The guy who survived a tsunami, and a lightning strike, and regularly runs into burning buildings, brought to his knees by one simple touch of soft lips to his cheek? 

When he and Chris return to the house, Buck begins cooking for the two of them. He makes the one thing he knows he won’t fuck up —lasagna, using Bobby’s recipe. Chris still seems oblivious to Buck’s agitation, which is probably a good thing, since Buck doesn’t even know where he would begin if Chris asked him what was wrong. 

The two of them eat in relative silence, this time with both their phones in their pockets, too busy stuffing way-too-hot bites of pasta into their mouths then huffing to try and cool it down to chat. That is until Chris decides to speak up. 

“Are you and my dad…like a thing?” He asks casually. So much for being oblivious. 

“Uh…a thing? What does that mean? I mean, no. We’re…there’s nothing. It’s nothing. What makes you say that, Chris?” Bumbles Buck, almost choking on his food. 

Chris shrugs, “He kissed you goodbye this morning. And, well, there’s also the fact that you live here...” 

“Do you want me to move out, Chris? Is that what this is about? ’Cause I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I can find somewhere els—”

“No, Buck. You don’t have to move out,” Chris giggles, “I’m just trying to say…if you’rekeeping it a secret because of me, I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” 

Chris shakes his head, “Dad seems happy when you’re around. Like, actually happy.” 

Buck’s gaze softens and his eyes light up at the concept of his presence making anyone happy, let alone Eddie. Then he quickly shakes the thought out of his head.

“But…No, there’s nothing going on,” He clarifies. 

Chris shrugs, “well, you should still stay. You still make him happy.”

“Do you think he kissed my cheek on purpose?” Buck asks after a moment. 

“Definitely not,” Says Christopher, chuckling, which makes Buck smile. “He’s probably going insane as we speak.” 

Buck raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh, come on, Buck. You know no one panics like my dad. He doesn’t know it, but we both do.”

“Yeah, I guess maybe he might be embarrassed,” Offers Buck. 

“Embarrassed? Well, definitely, but he’s probably freaking out about making things weird between you two. He does that a lot, you know? He freaks out every time something doesn’t go perfectly because he’s scared you’ll move out.” 

“Eddie’s scared…that I’ll move out?” Buck asks, his jaw hanging slightly. 

“Well, yeah. He doesn’t know how long you’re actually willing to sleep on a couch so he tries to make everything else perfect to keep you here.” Buck looks down, processing what Chris said. “I told you, Buck. You being here, it makes him happy.” 

—————

At night, Buck’s tossing and turning on the couch. He wasn’t sure whether sleeping in Eddie’s bed was okay, since Eddie was at work, but with everything else that was going on, he decided to just stick to his usual spot in the living room.

His mind races, as it always does, but this time he can hear several conversations he’d had over the past couple of months. Two of them in particular. The infuriating argument he’d had right there in the next room with Tommy, and the frustrating conversation he had had with Maddie in her kitchen. Both of them equally confusing to Buck at the time.

Sure, he loved Eddie. Everyone loves Eddie. That doesn’t mean he’s in love with Eddie. He didn’t want to sleep with his best friend. That’s what he said to Maddie, and he meant it. At least he thinks he did. He did, right? Right?! 

Except now, here he was, trying to fall asleep on the couch where he’d fallen asleep countless times before, thinking about how his best friend’s lips felt on his face. He wondered how they would feel on his own lips. Other places—Nope! No, not that. Definitely not that. 

He gets up to get a glass of water to cool off. His eyes are automatically drawn to the chair at the table where he was sitting in the morning, at breakfast. He couldn’t help but recreate the moment in his imagination. The scene was so domestic. Even without the cheek kiss, it was like they were characters in a sitcom. A happy little family. And they had been for weeks now.

Domestic.

Happy.

A family. 

Was it really that crazy? That’s also directly from the conversation with Maddie. Clearly, she didn’t think so. Maybe Buck didn’t either. He is so beyond sleep, now. What is he doing? Obviously, it’s not crazy to think Buck has feelings for Eddie. Far from it. It was actually a fact.

He had practically admitted so to Tommy, right here in this very kitchen. He told him how he didn’t have to want to sleep with everyone he had feelings for. And that was true. He doesn’t have to want it. But he does. Oh, how he does.

He doesn’t even mean that in a euphemistic sense. He wants to sleep right next to Eddie all night, and not just because the couch is doing numbers on his back. He wants to wake up with Eddie’s face next to his, or better yet, buried in his chest. He wants a cheek kiss every single morning. He doesn’t want to speculate anymore on what Eddie’s lips might feel like on Buck’s lips — he wants to know. 

He has half a mind to put on a hoodie and jog all the way to the fire station. No, that’s ridiculous. He would just drive. Right…right. 

Buck steadies himself against the fridge, taking a breath. He can’t go to the fire house. For one, it's the middle of the night. He doesn't exactly want to leave Chris alone. He also doesn't want to run up to Eddie and kiss him for the first time in front of all their friends and coworkers; he isn't even sure Eddie would want to kiss him. He’d rather not get rejected in front of everyone he knows, thank you very much.

But there is also a much deeper reason. Buck chases and clings. It’s what he does. What he's always done. He can’t do it this time. Not when it’s this important. Not when it’s Eddie. He doesn’t want to ruin this. He wants to give him time. To not let his own baggage and flaws infiltrate this, at least not if he can help it.

He can’t run impulsively into the firehouse, in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, to kiss Eddie. He knows how every big swing and gesture just ended up blowing up in his face in the past. It was time he faced it. He’s mature Buck 3.0…or is it 4.0? Might be 5.0 by now. 

He forces himself back onto the couch and, although he’s made peace with the fact that he won’t be getting much sleep tonight, he resigns himself to staying in.

Eddie will come home. He will be there and he’ll see Buck there, and, if Buck is to trust Chris, which he definitely does, Eddie will be happy because Buck is there. Buck doesn’t have to run. He doesn’t have to cling or beg. He just has to wait and trust.

This time, he knows Eddie will not leave him like everyone else seems to. He just knows it. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, Buck knows he won’t lose Eddie. And with that, his eyes actually flutter closed and he drifts off on the couch. 

——————

It’s almost 09:00, which means shift is almost over. Eddie looks around him, feeling the walls closing in. He had spent the last 24 hours preoccupied about Buck.

The kiss was just the tip of the iceberg. It blew open the pandora’s box that is Eddie’s heart. No amount of swings to the punching bag could change the fact that Eddie was in love with his best friend — trust him, he tried.

The clock keeps ticking and A-shift is dismissed, but Eddie’s feet remain planted into the linoleum. Maybe he should run back up the stairs and stay for a second shift.

That seems like a good idea, right? He can avoid home. Avoid Buck. Why did that seem like a significantly less good idea, now? Like the thought of avoiding Buck gave Eddie a stomach ache.

He chuckles dryly. Eddie is so confused and overwhelmed about the kiss and his feelings and everything else that he desperately needs to talk to his best friend about. The irony isn't lost on him. 

He finally drags his heavy legs out of the station and into the car. Once again, he is frozen behind the wheel. Arms at ten-and-two, with the engine off. He breathes deeply, trying to steady himself. What is he so afraid of? It’s just Buck. 

It’s just Buck. 

Would this change everything? Would it mark the end of their friendship? Their bond? Their professional partnership? Eddie felt his heart speed up.

He had the overwhelming instinct to run. To drive somewhere far and never look back. He could just go anywhere. Anywhere but his house. He would send for Chris later. Okay, that’s a little too far, Eddie. Even for you. 

Running came second nature to Eddie. When things got tough with Shannon, he ran off to the army. When stuff with his family was complicated, he ran to LA from El Paso. With every woman who entered his life, he found every excuse to be away from them, ironically, usually running to Buck. 

This time, he just has to face it. He can’t run any longer. He has repressed this part of himself for long enough; the part of him that looks at Buck with something other than friendship in his eyes. He isn’t sure what to call it. If he was gay or bi or something else entirely. But, regardless, he is a man in love. A man in love with Buck.

The drive home is anything but pleasant. Eddie’s hands are so clammy that he’s struggling to grip the steering wheel, but he makes it home. What would Buck say? What would Eddie say? God, he really should have rehearsed this, or at least planned some talking points. What do you even say in that situation? ‘Hey, remember when I kissed your cheek yesterday morning? I think we’re soulmates’ — That didn’t sound right at all.

He would be lying if he said the thought of driving right past the house didn’t go through his mind. But here he is, parked in front of the house. Trying to figure out what it is he wants to say. Practicing his poker face for if when Buck says he’s flattered but not interested. 

———————

Buck lets Chris sleep in. He gets up off the couch after a surprisingly good sleep, and just sits there waiting for the clock to tick and bring Eddie home. It takes longer than anticipated. It’s a while after the end of shift and Buck is almost worried that the trust he had that Eddie would always return to him was misplaced.

Then, he hears the familiar sound of the engine of Eddie’s car pull into the spot. Buck braces himself for what is about to happen. Potentially the most important moment of his life. Or the most humiliating. Time will tell. 

Then, he keeps bracing because nothing happens.

No one walks through the door. Buck is sure the car he heard was Eddie’s. What is taking him so long, again? Had Eddie forgotten how to drive? How to walk? Was he suffering from a brain injury? That would explain the accidental cheek kiss. Oh, how could Buck get this so wrong. Obviously Eddie was suffering some kind of head trauma which was impairing his functions and— The key turns in the lock. 

Buck stares at the doorknob with bated breath. He stands up. He’s not sure why but now he’s committed himself to the choice so he just stays standing, eyes focused on the doorway. 

————-

Eddie walks through the door, finding Buck standing in the middle of the entryway. All the practiced lines he’d decided on in the car are forgotten.

Similarly, Buck’s racing mind finally stills. His anxiety somehow dissipates, leaving only…love? Buck’s eyes crinkle into a grin and his dimple makes an appearance. The sight makes Eddie weak in the knees. Neither of them says a word —What do you even say when you’re falling in love in real time?—But they both know.  

Eddie takes a step forward and Buck’s hand finds refuge on Eddie’s cheek, tilting the shorter man’s head just slightly up towards himself. Buck watches as Eddie’s eyes sparkle, just like the stars from the observatory, no, prettier somehow. More mesmerising. Buck could stare into those big brown eyes forever. 

Buck leans in slowly, and Eddie relaxes under his touch, letting himself be guided by the hand that’s on his face. And then, it finally happens. Eddie’s lips are on Buck’s. Now he knows. And because he knows what it feels like to have Eddie’s lips on his, Buck also knows that he wants this every morning. And night. 

Buck’s tongue runs over Eddie’s bottom lip, and he is immediately granted access into Eddie’s mouth, exploring it with a hunger that translates to Eddie. The kiss deepens. Now, Eddie’s fingers are tangled in Buck’s soft curls and his free arm is wrapped around Buck’s impossibly muscular frame.

Buck kisses him with intensity. More intensity than he’s used to. More than either of them are used to, really, but it’s been a long time coming. They can taste the other’s desperation. They stumble and now Buck is pinned up against the wall, welcoming Eddie’s touch in any way he sees fit to provide it. 

Then, they hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. They immediately turn to look, both with wide eyes like deer (or bucks?) caught in headlights, to find Chris snickering at them. 

“Nothing, huh? There’s nothing going on? That's what you said, right?,” He teases them, but there’s a big smile on his face and he’s just happy they’ve finally figured it out.

At least, he hopes they have. It’s kind of exhausting watching them pine for each other like idiots in denial for so, so long. 

A\N: Posted this one on AO3 a while ago, too. It's not x Reader like i usually write, it's Buddie! It's set during 8x11, when Buck hooks up with Tommy. Title is from a Lizzy McAlpine song. I'd recommend you listen to it before reading (mostly bc it's a great song). Enjoy :)

NSFW (18+) | One-Shot | Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz | (Tommy is in this but Buddie is endgame)

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Read on AO3

Buck’s eyes are squeezed shut. He’s trying to focus solely on the pleasure that’s building in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to think about it. Anything.

He really doesn’t want to think about how everything in his life seems to be going to shit. And now, here he is, having sex with someone he doesn’t have feelings for. Maybe he did? He must have at some point. He wasn’t sure now. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. It’s like he looked right at the sun so now his vision was spotty, and suddenly he couldn’t look at anything anymore without seeing the white burnt rings in his retina. Not the literal sun, of course, but the way those brown eyes could melt Buck, he may as well be.

His focus is interrupted when two fingers lightly tap his cheek and he’s forced to open his eyes. He almost feels guilty at the pang of disappointment when the eyes he’s looking into aren’t the ones he was hoping for. Just icy blue ones. He feels like an idiot. It’s not like he was surprised. He knew who he was in bed with. He knew who he’d taken home from the bar. He also knew who he was drinking to forget at said bar. The guilt meshed with self hatred and pushed his arousal out of the way. The man hovering over him seemed not to notice — or if he did, he didn’t care. He kept thrusting himself into Buck at a relentless pace.

Buck didn’t mind. In fact, these days he welcomed pain wherever it came from. He pushed himself to his breaking point at the gym. He was reckless on calls. And now, here he was, splayed out under the last person who had broken his heart. Between the self-inflicted pain and the meaningless sex, he almost felt like his teenage self again, including the constant looming fear that everyone would leave him eventually. That’s what happens when you have abandonment issues, he thought. Except now it wasn’t so much a fear as much as it was something that had already happened.

He knew in the logical part of his brain that Eddie didn’t leave him because he didn’t care. He would never want to keep him from Christopher. But the other part of him, the part that still held on to the pain of his parents’ indifference towards him, of his sister leaving and then giving him the Jeep and sending him off alone; that part of him felt the same way watching that moving truck drive away as he had so many other times when his heart was broken by those he loved most.

Buck lets his eyes close again as his head falls back onto the mattress. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend the grunts and heavy breathing above him are falling out of Eddie’s mouth. He could pretend that the hips driving into him were Eddie’s too — he didn’t need to try hard at all for that one. He’d pictured it many times before, though usually, he was alone in his bed. And all those times before, the bed would be in Buck’s loft and not in Eddie’s bedroom. The first time it happened — Eddie’s strong hands making an appearance in his fantasies, replacing Buck’s own hands, he tried to brush it off. It felt wrong to think about his best friend like that, but with every sweaty session, the guilt wore off and now Buck wasn’t sure he could cum anymore if Eddie didn’t make an appearance in his mind’s eye. He hadn’t tried really. It had become involuntary.

Tommy’s lips attach themselves to Buck’s neck, drawing a soft gasp out of his pink lips. He cursed at himself internally, only being able to think 'I wish those were Eddie’s lips on my neck' instead of just enjoying the feeling of being loved, no matter how fleeting or fabricated. He wasn’t sure if Tommy loved him or not. Probably not since he’d broken up with him. But still, a soft kiss was like a bandaid for the abandonment issues. Usually, it would have made him feel better for a little while. Not this time. This time all he felt was dread.

Buck wasn’t sure when he developed feelings for Eddie. It seemed to have crept up on him over the years, and by the time he realised that it was happening, he was already drowning in it. Buck didn’t even know he was into guys until a few months ago, but he was definitely already into Eddie by then. He just couldn’t see it yet. It never crossed his mind before. Not during any of their late night conversations, not during all the meals shared with Chris like they were a real family, not when the two of them were patching up the drywall in this very apartment, not when Buck was clawing at the earth to bring Eddie back, not when he was putting pressure on Eddie's bullet wound still covered in the blood splatter, not with every simple brush of their shoulders as they walked side by side. Now, the memories played through Buck’s mind like paintings on a carousel.

He hoped no one would bring it up so it could stay buried in the depths of his psyche, but it seemed everyone around them was catching on. It was more obvious now that Eddie was gone. All the sulking. The way he couldn’t go more than five minutes at a time without bringing Eddie up in conversation. Buck thought he was acting pathetic. It was worse because it served to prove that he was the one this was actually bothering. He was the one with these Big Feelings he didn’t know how to deal with. Eddie wasn’t even gay, let alone reciprocative of Buck’s feelings. The thought of it alone made Buck’s heart sink. Eddie was 800 miles away in Texas, perfectly happy with Chris and the rest of their family, real family. Blood. And here he was. Just an ex-coworker / sometimes-babysitter. Is that really all he was to Eddie and Chris?

The last thing Buck wanted was to cry right now, with another man inside him. He wanted so badly for the feelings burning within him to dissipate. It was hard enough having his closest friend move to another state without the added fact that he was deeply in love with him. God, was it love? He didn’t know what else to call it if not. Meanwhile, Tommy was present. Right there on top of him. Buck hoped he would turn him over soon so he’d have a better excuse not to look at him. So he could just bury his face in the sheets and cum without Tommy seeing him or the pained look in his eyes. Buck often looked like a kicked puppy and he had learned by now that Tommy wasn’t a fan of it.

Buck’s mind continued to race, while Tommy’s hips continued to thrust in and out of him, the movement starting to lose meaning, like when you repeat a word so many times it starts sounding made up. Tommy was giving him everything he had but Buck couldn’t understand why he was even trying. He didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything. He wanted to disappear. To break down into a million little pieces and get blown away with the wind.

He was in an impossible situation. Eddie was so far away, not just geographically. Eddie didn’t want him. Couldn’t want him. Would never want him, not even if he wanted to. He was straight, Buck was painfully aware of it.

Buck looked up at the ceiling, wondering how many times Eddie had stared up at the same ceiling unable to fall asleep. It was like living in a haunted house, except the ghost was Buck. He could retrace the steps of every interaction he’d ever had with Eddie or Chris in this house. Except now, he’d have to play all the parts himself. They may return, or they might not. Either way, it won’t be for him. Eddie did a good job at reminding him that this was his biggest flaw; how he made everything about himself. He couldn’t help it. He never felt like he was important to anyone. He thought so little of himself that it accidentally went all the way back to self-centredness. At the end of the day he just wanted so badly to feel like Eddie needed him. Wanted him.

Tommy growled and his hips started moving erratically, letting Buck know he was close. His hand grabbed Buck’s chin, once again locking eyes with him. Buck decided to try and finish, at the very least to not seem inadequate. It wasn’t too hard to get himself there, anyway. All he had to do was imagine Eddie in place of Tommy. Brown eyes in place of blue ones. The wispy piece of hair that liked to fall forwards onto Eddie forehead. Buttery-soft tan skin. It was dark enough in the room for Buck’s mind to play tricks, superimposing the images over Tommy’s face and body. He didn’t feel guilty anymore. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Even the imagined reality of having Eddie served to momentarily rid Buck of any negative emotions — emphasis on momentarily. So, finally, Buck finished, and so did Tommy, and Buck felt empty again but he let himself believe that the arms that wrapped around him from behind belonged to none other than his Eddie. He was in his bedroom for God’s sake.

His brain couldn’t stop dreaming up the fantasy if it wanted to. He was in the Diaz home, and Eddie was spooning him, and Chris was asleep in the next room or maybe down the street at a sleepover. Either way, still in LA. In the morning they’d all have breakfast together. Things would be normal. No, not normal, better than normal, because Eddie would know how Buck feels and he wouldn’t throw him out. No, he would say he felt the same. He always had. He wants Buck just as much as Buck wants him. He would never leave him again. Chris would never leave again. They’d always have each other. They’d be a real family.