#buck x reader

A black duffel hung from her shoulder, bumping against her hip as she crossed the polished concrete floor. She gave a few sleepy nods to the night-shift crew heading out before ducking into the locker room.

The metal lockers were lined like soldiers, each one plastered with stickers, photos, and scuffed nameplates. She dropped her bag onto the bench, spun the lock, and swapped her “civvies” for her uniform: the dark blue shirt, with dark blue pants and her boots laced tight. The familiar weight settled on her shoulders, grounding her.

In the bottom of the duffel sat a small white bakery box. She hesitated for a moment, fingers brushing the lid, asking herself if she should leave it right here or just give it to him. It’s just cookies, she told herself. He asked when you were making them again, that’s all. But what if he was joking? She shook her head, like she was shaking the thought out of her head and she tucked the box under her arm and headed toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was already alive with the morning rhythm of the station. Hen was rummaging through the fridge, and the coffeemaker gurgled loudly in protest at being overworked. Buck sat at the table, legs stretched out, scrolling through his phone with that lazy grin that made everything look easier than it was.

“Morning,” he said without looking up, keeping his eyes locked on whatever was happening on his phone. “Morning,” (Y/n) replied, trying to sound casual. She set the bakery box on the table in front of him and, without waiting for his reaction she slid it across the surface and turned straight toward the counter without adding another word to it. 

She could feel his eyes on her back as she reached for a mug. Her cheeks were already warming, but at least he couldn’t see them. She could hear his phone drop onto the hard surface of the table, “Wait- these are the cookies?” Buck’s voice brightened with recognition. “The sea-salt ones?” he added.

“Maybe,” she said over her shoulder, pouring coffee and praying the machine’s hiss would cover the smile tugging at her lips. He flipped the lid open and inhaled the smell of the fresh baked cookies like he’d just found a treasure. “You’re kidding. These are amazing.” he said. 

Before she could answer, a new voice broke in. “Oh, cookies!” Chimney swooped in from nowhere, reaching over Buck’s shoulder. His hand was halfway to the box when Buck slapped it away with lightning speed. “Hey! Mine,” Buck said, protective as a kid guarding Halloween candy.

Chimney blinked watching him with an offended expression. “Yours? Since when do you get cookie ownership rights around here?” Chimney asked. Buck looked up at Chim, pushing the box closer to him. “Since (Y/n) brought them in for me,” Buck said, his eyes wandering back to her. 

She kept her eyes on her mug, pretending to focus on stirring in cream. “They were just extra,” she tried to explain.

“Uh-huh,” Chim said, unconvinced. Buck looked at (Y/n) for exactly five seconds, and that was long enough for Chim to wait until he turned back to his phone and then sneak a cookie anyway. “Hey!” Buck caught the movement too late. “You thief!” he practically yelled over the loft. 

Hen entered just in time to see Buck scowling and Chim chewing guiltily. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, one eyebrow already raised. “Cookie drama,” Chim said around a mouthful.

Hen leaned over the box, eyes twinkling. “Let me guess… (Y/n)’s spoiling Buck again?” she guessed, looking at the three persons standing spread over the loft. Buck lifted a hand. “For the record, I didn’t ask.” he said, with his mouth full.

Hen had a hand placed on her hip and smirked at Buck. “Uh-huh. And yet here you are, defending them like they’re state secrets.” 

(Y/n) shook her head, half-laughing. “You’re all impossible.” she said as she took a sip of her coffee. 

Hen moved towards the kitchen and poured herself coffee, muttering something about “oblivious men” as she left. Chim followed, still munching, before Buck could chase him down.

When the room finally quieted, Buck turned to (Y/n) again, cookie in hand, expression softening. “Seriously, though. These are incredible. You’re the best.” he said, sending her a kind, small smile.

She forced a light smile and took a sip of her coffee to hide the flush returning to her cheeks. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” she said.

He laughed, easy and bright, the sound echoing through the kitchen. And even though she knew he didn’t mean anything by it, she couldn’t stop the small ache that came with it.

The wail of the siren was a scream against the city’s early morning quiet. Hen’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as the ambulance sped through the Los Angeles morning traffic as the world was flashing red and white. Beside Hen (Y/n) checked the medic bag for the third time, her heartbeat quick but steady, it was the way she always felt when they were going to a call.

The sharp smell of smoke hit before they even saw the flames. As Hen pulled to a stop beside the ladder truck, (Y/n) felt the vibration of the engines through her boots. The world outside was pure chaos. There was orange light covering up the sides of a three-story apartment building while thick gray smoke spread into the sky.

Hen put the car in park, killed the siren and got out of the ambulance in one smooth move like she had done a thousand times before. They met Bobby at the perimeter, his face hard with focus and ready to command his team. “Hen, (Y/n)—set up triage south side. We’ve got evacuees coming out fast.” Bobby ordered. 

“Copy that,” Hen said, (Y/n) hoisted her bag, slinging it across her shoulder as they sprinted toward the line of coughing residents. Even though they were at a safe distance from the burning building, they could feel the heat pressed against them like a living thing, radiating off the burning structure.

For several minutes, it was all motion. Hen checked vitals while (Y/n) flushed a burn with saline, her hands moving automatically. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and melted plastic, the metallic taste of adrenaline. A woman sobbed somewhere behind them; someone else coughed so hard it echoed through the chaos. But she stayed focussed on the patient right in front of her. 

Then the radio burst to life, first the sound of static filled the scene, but quickly it was taken over by a familiar voice. “Medic assist needed, interior, second floor east wing!” Eddie’s voice called over the radio. 

Hen’s head snapped up. She looked toward the building, then back to (Y/n). Their eyes met, and Hen motioned towards the structure. “Get in there. Grab an O2 tank, helmet and your bag.” she told her team member. (Y/n) nodded, “Got it,” she said as she was already moving. Just as she left the triage, she could hear Hen’s voice call “You got this!” after her, making her grin. 

The oxygen tank was heavier than she remembered, but she barely felt the weight as she ran toward the entrance. Firefighters moved past her in a blur, hauling hoses and axes. She shot up the stairs, and made her way towards the east wing as she arrived on the second floor. At the doorway, a figure emerged from the haze. It was Buck with his mask on, visor smudged with soot but his flashlight beam cutting through the smoke. “This way,” he called out, voice muffled through the mask.

He reached out instinctively as she approached, gloved hand brushing her back, a guiding pressure just below her shoulder blade. It was light, almost nothing, but she felt it, solid and grounding through the chaos. Then he was moving ahead again, leading her through the wreckage.

Inside, visibility dropped to almost nothing. Smoke curled through the hallway, hot and wet against her face. Her pulse was a hard, steady beat in her ears. They turned a corner where Eddie was kneeling beside a man pinned by debris, blood pooling dark beneath him. “Femoral bleed,” Eddie said as soon as she made eye contact with him. “He’s conscious but in shock.”

(Y/n) knelt beside him, dropping her bag. “Sir, my name’s (Y/n),” she said clearly, her voice calm and practiced. “We’re going to get you out, okay? Stay with me.” she said. The man groaned, fingers twitching weakly.  “Buck, I need you to press this dressing onto the wound” she said. “Got it,” he said, bracing down hard as she pulled the tourniquet from her kit, looping it high on his thigh, just above the wound. After that she twisted the windlass tight. When the bleeding slowed, she locked the velcro strap, securing it in place.

“Eddie, what’s his pressure?” she asked, already pulling the IV kit free. “Dropping. He’s going into shock.” he concluded. 

(Y/n) listened to his words and quickly made a choice. “Alright, I’m starting a line.” Her voice was steady, but she could feel the sting of sweat trickling under her mask. She worked quickly, inserting the needle into a vein at the crook of his arm. A bead of dark blood rose before she connected the tubing and held up the small morphine bag. “I’m pushing for pain.” she said, more to herself than to the two guys around her. 

She squeezed the bag, watching the clear liquid move down the line. The man’s breathing evened out slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Buck crouched beside her again, passing supplies before she even had to ask. His movements were sharp, precise, an extra pair of hands that seemed to anticipate her next need. When she shifted to check the other leg, his flashlight beam followed, revealing a shard of metal embedded near the knee. “Good catch,” she said, glancing up.

But he didn’t answer, he just met her eyes through the visor and gave a short nod, smoke curling between them. She worked as fast as she possibly could in a burning building, and then the radio crackled again: “All teams, evacuate! the structure is getting unstable!”

“Time to go!” Eddie barked. (Y/n) held the IV line steady, keeping the bag raised as Buck lifted the man and Eddie grabbed the tools they used to search the place. There was no time to call for a backboard. They needed to get the hell out of there. 

(Y/n) keyed her radio as they moved. “We’re coming out! Need a gurney ready at the south side of the building!”

“Copy that!” a voice answered through the static.

The building groaned above them, wood cracking, plaster falling in gray clouds. The smoke grew thicker, suffocating. (Y/n)’s lungs burned; her heartbeat pounded in her throat. Then, finally the daylight broke through the smoke like a promise.

Outside, a team was waiting with a gurney. “Right here!” another paramedic from another house called.

(Y/n) pulled off her helmet and oxygen mask and handed over the morphine bag she was holding to the paramedic. “Tourniquet high left thigh, shrapnel in right knee, morphine onboard,” (Y/n) reported quickly as Buck placed the patient onto the gurney. “BP dropping but stable for now.” Two other paramedics moved fast as they loaded the man into an additional ambulance.

She exhaled hard, tugging off the fabric hood from under her mask and just took some distance from the building. The air hit her face like ice, even though a mix of sweat and soot was dripping over her face. She undid her ponytail and ran a hand through her hair, shaking out the damp heat. For a moment, she just breathed, watching the fire crews still battling the blaze.

Buck appeared beside her, removing his own helmet, soot streaking the side of his face. His blonde curls were partly plastered to his forehead, eyes bright in the harsh light. “You okay?” he asked, voice low but edged with genuine concern as he held the fabric hood in his hands. 

She cleared her throat and nodded, still catching her breath. “Yeah. You?” she asked, glancing slightly at Buck. He managed a tired smile. “Fine. Just another day at work, right?” he said, slapping the fabric he was holding against her chest, playfully.

“Yeah,” she said softly, but her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than she meant it to. 

-

The rigs pulled into the bay just after three in the afternoon, the day still bright and hot. The sunlight slanted through the wide open doors while the hum of engines winding down filled the space. 

(Y/n) climbed out of the ambulance, helmet tucked under her arm. Sweat dampened the collar of her shirt, and the smell of smoke clung to her skin no matter how much fresh air filled her lungs. She hung her gear back, ready so if they needed to head out again, she could just slip into her gear and be ready. 

She made her way towards the locker room, in her movement stretching the stiffness from her back, her muscles humming as the adrenaline left her body. When she arrived at her locker, she looked up, eyes closed as she sighed. It has been a long call. She needed some peace and quiet. 

But the quiet got interrupted, quickly. Buck was a few feet away, unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way towards the lockers too. He didn’t want to linger at her, everyone had their own ways of handling intensive calls. And this was her way. 

She already sensed him. She could hear him breathing and the boots he was wearing squeaked at the friction with the floor. His shirt was streaked with ash, and the curls that earlier stuck to his skin were now dried up. 

“You good?” he asked with a small grin, his voice a little rough from smoke but steady. She kept her eyes closed as she slowly nodded and forced herself to open her eyes. “Yeah…” She said as she brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, “You?” she asked, turning her head towards him. 

Their eyes met, and he offered a tired but genuine smile. It was the kind that still made her chest feel unreasonably warm, even after the kind of call that left you exhausted down to the bone. 

He nodded, taking off his shirt “We got lucky in there. If that ceiling had gone just a minute earlier…” he didn’t finish the sentence, it was clear what he wanted to say with that. Buck turned towards his locker, and opened it as a silence fell between the two. 

“But it didn’t. You were quick. You carried that guy out before it even had the chance.” she said, looking at him as he was putting his shirt into his locker. He gave her a quiet, half-embarrassed laugh, looking down. “Well, Eddie had the fancy tools. I figured I’d do the heavy lifting.” he said, looking to the side.

She smiled, “You make it sound like nothing.” she said. “I had good backup,” he said, glancing back at her. His eyes lingered just a little longer than they should have. It was a look that made her forget for a heartbeat what she’d meant to say next. 

She cleared her throat. “I’m gonna hit the showers before the next call. I smell like a campfire.” she said. He grinned. “Good call, you smell like half the building.” he joked. (Y/n) shot him a look, one brow lifting as the corner of her mouth curved.

“Says the guy who smells like a barbecue gone wrong.” she shot back as she closed her locker. Buck laughed, mock-offended. “I’ll choose smelling like a barbecue over antiseptic any day.” 

She shook her head, smiling as she threw her towel over her shoulder. “Mmmm, sure you would, hero.” she said, patting Buck’s shoulder as she made her way towards the bathroom. Still laughing, he watched her walk away. 

Not long after, Eddie appeared beside Buck, arms crossed leaning with his shoulder against the lockers with an amused look on his face. “So…” he said slowly, nodding toward the path (Y/n) had just disappeared through. “You gonna tell me what’s going on there, or should i start guessing?”

Buck glanced at him and frowned at his words. “What? Nothing’s going on.” he said. Eddie raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.. really? Because you two have been… rather close lately… You notice her before anyone else does. You look for her on calls. That doesn’t sound like “nothing’s going on” man.” Eddie said, using his fingers to quote him.

Buck blinked, then let out a quick laugh, shaking his head. “Come on, it’s not like that.” He said. “Then what’s it like?” Eddie asked curious. Buck hesitated, staring down at his hands. “She’s… she’s just a friend. We work well together.”

Eddie tilted his head, unconvinced. “You sure that’s all?”

Buck’s shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “Yeah. She’s…” He paused mid-sentence searching for the right words. “She’s like a little sister, you know? Someone to look out for. To protect.” he explained. 

Eddie frowned at the chosen words and tilted his head, studying him. “A little sister?” he said. “Yeah,” Buck said, almost too quickly. “She’s good at what she does, and she’s part of the team. I just… don’t ever want her to get hurt. That’s all.”

Eddie watched him for a moment, but long enough that Buck started to feel it. Then he nodded once, slow. “That’s a nice thought, Buck. Just make sure you’re not the one doing the hurting.” 

Buck blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eddie pushed himself off the lockers. “Nothing. Just… sometimes we protect people so much, we don’t realize they don’t need it.”

He gave Buck a pat on the shoulder, gentle and walked out of the locker room. Leaving Buck standing there, unsure why that last line sat heavy in his chest.

In the bathroom everything was cooler and quieter, the kind of quiet that hummed in the air after a long call. (Y/n) dropped her things onto the bench and pulled at the ties of her boots. She reached for her caddy, then sighed. Shampoo. She’d left it in her locker where she had a conversation with Buck. 

She rolled her eyes at her own stupid mistake, and she long hall towards the lockers. But as she almost entered the locker room again, she froze. Voices carried from the room. Not loud, but clear enough. Familiar enough. “…She’s like a little sister,” Buck was saying, his tone light but sure. “Someone to look out for. To protect.”

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. The words hit somewhere deep, not a sharp sting, but a slow, spreading ache like a virus. Her hands curled into fists, tightening until her knuckles went white. 

Eddie said something she couldn’t catch, low and teasing. Buck laughed, that easy laugh she knew so well. And still, that one line replayed in her head. Little sister.

She stepped back into the bathroom before anyone could see her. The sound of running water filled the silence as she set her things down, moving almost mechanically now.

When she finally stepped under the shower, the heat hit her skin and her eyes burned, though she blamed the smoke for it. She let the water run over her face, washing away the soot, the smell of smoke and the sweat. But no matter how long she stood there, she couldn’t wash away the echo of his voice.

Maybe she should’ve known. Maybe it had always been that way. But standing there, surrounded by steam and silence, she realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit. She’d fallen for someone who didn’t see her in the same way. 

And for the first time since she joined the 118, the station didn’t feel like home.

______

Morning sunlight stretched across the firehouse kitchen. The air smelled like the usual mix of coffee and toast, the kind of comfort that only came between emergencies. Chim was bent over a bowl of cereal, drinking the milk that was left over after he ate all the cereal, dramatically while Eddie shook his head in mock disgust. Hen leaned back in her chair, half laughing and half disgusted by the sounds of it. 

Buck sat where he always did, elbow on the table, one leg kicked out, grinning at the chaos. It was ordinary. Familiar. But there was something that was missing. (Y/n) wasn’t beside him.

Her laugh, the one that always found its way into these mornings, was absent, replaced by the steady tap of keys. She sat across the table instead, near Hen, a tablet propped up in front of her. She was scrolling through reports with sharp focus, her hair was in a tight, neat ponytail, her uniform neat and tucked, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the faint smudge of soot near her wrist.

There was no box of cookies on the counter this time. No mug of coffee quietly placed by his elbow like she did some of the times. Something felt off by the way she was acting.

Buck’s gaze lingered a second too long before he cleared his throat. “Hey,” he started, tone casual. “You were fast out there yesterday. That IV? Cleanest one I’ve seen.” He complimented her.

Hen grinned, her head turning from Buck towards (Y/n). Hen nudged (Y/n)’s arm, “Told you, she’s the sniper of veins.” She smiled.

(Y/n) glanced up briefly, a polite smile ghosting across her face. “He was an easy stick,” she said softly, eyes flicking back to the screen. “Got lucky with the placement.” She said as she was already lost inside the report that was on her tablet.

Buck’s grin faltered just a touch. “Yeah. Sure. Luck.” He mumbled. 

She didn’t look up.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud, but it definitely was noticeable. It stretched thin, like a breath held too long. Eddie looked up from his coffee, sensing it, but then decided to say nothing. Chim just raised his brows at Buck across the table asking him in silence “what did you do?”

Bobby walked in deeper into the loft as steam curled from his mug. “Alright, it has been a slow morning so far. Let’s try to keep it that way.” he said, breaking the silence that no one wanted to break. And with that, the rhythm of the room resumed.

Well… the entire room but except for Buck.

He sat back, arms crossed, trying to tell himself he was imagining it. That maybe she was just tired, or distracted. But he glanced over at (Y/n) as her laughter mixed with Hen’s filled the room. It gnawed at him that it wasn’t his laugh that mixed with hers. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong, or what he was feeling. The only thing he was sure of, was the feeling that (Y/n) was acting differently around him, and he needed answers. 

It’s the day after their day off, a little more than 48 hours after their last shift. The air hummed with easy routine. The sound of, squeaking shoes against the polished floor, the muted sound of Eddie’s music coming from somewhere near the gym and compartments on the trucks opening and closing now and then. 

Buck tried to get his mind off things when he was on his day off, but somehow, his brain kept wandering back, subconsciously. And now he wandered toward the rigs, restless, searching for her.

It’s the beginning of the evening and the back doors of the ambulance were open, and (Y/n) was inside, clipboard balanced against her knee. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling forward as she counted supplies. Methodical, focused, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Gauze rolls stacked neatly on one side. Saline bags lined up like soldiers on the shelf. Every movement was crisp and efficient, and maybe a little too careful. Buck leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the ambulance. “You hiding from Hen,” he teased lightly, “or just really into inventory today?” Buck said, trying to make small talk.

Without looking up, she smiled. But it didn’t feel genuine. It felt practiced, polite. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t run out of bandages next time you try to wrestle a patient.” she said, her eyes locked onto the clipboard that was still balancing on her lap.

He chuckled, looking down at the floor for a second. “Now okay, that was one time.” he said. 

She made a small sound, it wasn’t a laugh, but it was close. “Hmmm, and who had to tape your wrist after?”

“You did.” He grinned. “And you told me I’d live.” he added.

“See?” she said, finally glancing at him. “I’m always right.”

It should’ve felt like their usual conversations. Easy, quick, familiar. But it didn’t feel that way. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Buck studied her quietly while she checked another box of equipment. Her fingers moved swiftly, confidently. She looked fine, composed, in control but there was something underneath it. Something tight. Something he had never seen before.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

(Y/n) froze, her pen hovering midair. She looked over at him, the slightest hesitation in her eyes before she smiled again. “I’m fine, Buck. Promise.” she said, her eyes meeting his.

He frowned slightly, arms crossing. “You sure? You’ve been a little quiet lately.” he said. He finally was having a conversation with her, so he decided to take his chance. 

She tilted her head, trying to sound breezy. “Just tired. It’s been a long shift.” (Y/n) answered, not too detailed. But her hands told a different story. How they stilled for half a beat before moving again, how her breath seemed shallower than usual.

Buck hesitated, the words pushing past his uncertainty. “Did I… do something?” he asked then. Her eyes flicked up, startled. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a small shrug. “You’ve been different. Distant, maybe. I just… if I said something or did something, I’d rather know.” he explained.

For a long moment, she just looked at him. And god, the concern in his face. The genuine confusion, it almost broke her. Because he really didn’t know what he did.

She forced a smile, her voice soft but even. “You didn’t do anything, Buck.”

His brow furrowed. “Then why-” but before he could even finish that question, she cut him off gently, her tone lighter than she felt. “I’m just making sure everything’s stocked. Hen gets cranky when we’re missing stuff.”

And with that, she placed her clipboard underneath her arm, jumped lightly from the rig. Making Buck push himself off the part he was leaning on, and stepped back. She closed the back doors with a metallic thud. “Need help?” he offered quickly.

She shook her head, already walking toward the back hall. “No, I’ve got it.” she said over her shoulder, while sending him a small smile after.

He watched her go, the way her ponytail brushed her collar, the clipboard now pressed tightly to her chest like armor.

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

Buck stayed where he was, staring at the closed ambulance doors. His throat felt tight, though he couldn’t explain why. He told himself it was nothing, she was just tired, or busy, or focused. That she’d be back to normal soon. But deep down, something twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Because it didn’t feel like nothing.

It felt like losing something he hadn’t realized he needed.

_

It had been two full shifts since the fire, and the friendzoning words “little sister”. Two shifts since things between them had quietly changed, but not in the way people noticed.

(Y/n) still laughed with Hen, still showed up early, still did her job like the professional she was. But the small things, the ones that used to be Buck’s, were gone. No coffee quietly placed at his side. No little check-ins between calls. And when she smiled at him now, it never quite reached her eyes.

Buck told himself it was fine. People got tired. Things shifted. Not everything had to mean something. But when she brushed past him in the hallway and he felt her body tense just slightly, like she’d rather be anywhere else, it felt like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing.

That night, the station was quiet. Most of the crew had already crashed in the bunks. A half-played deck of cards sat abandoned on the kitchen table. The overhead lights were dimmed to a tired amber glow, and outside, the city murmured against the windows.

Buck sat at the table, staring into a mug of cold coffee, jaw tight. He didn’t even remember pouring it or how long he had been sitting there.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, (Y/n) stepped onto the loft, hoodie half-zipped, her hair loose, shadows beneath her eyes. She stopped when she saw him, blinking like she hadn’t expected to find anyone awake.

He looked over and gave a small, tired smile. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked. 

“Guess not.” She grabbed a glass and filled it with the tap, her movements quiet and methodical. “Long day.” she added.

He nodded, watching her reflection in the stainless steel cabinet. She looked… guarded. Like someone holding herself together out of habit. He didn’t bother easing into it this time. His voice was calm but certain.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” he said. 

She froze, her hand tightening around the glass. A small pause, a flicker of breath. Then she turned, leaning against the counter. “I’ve been busy.” she said, frowning at his comment.

“That’s not it.” he said while shaking his head, and his eyes locked with hers, once again. 

“Buck…” Her tone carried a warning, tired, but cautious.

“I mean it,” he said, standing from his chair. “You barely talk to me. You walk out of a room the second I walk in. I just know I-” His voice cracked just slightly. “I did something wrong in your eyes, And I..” he was searching for the words but he couldn’t quite put them into his mouth.

Her eyes softened, and for a moment she looked like she wanted to tell him everything. But then she exhaled, the breath shaky, and the mask slipped back into place. “I already told you, you didn’t do anything.” she said.

He frowned. “Then what’s going on?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes things just… change.” she stuttered. 

“Not like this.” He took a step closer. “You’re acting like I… like we-” He stopped, struggling to find the right words again. Her gaze met his, steady but distant. “Maybe we just stopped being on the same page, Buck. That happens.” she said, taking a sip from the glass of water that was still in her hand.

The quiet between them was heavy. He opened his mouth, to argue, to ask, to plead.. “(Y/n) if I-” but before he could speak, the alarm split through the room, sharp and jarring. 

“Station one eighteen, respond to a multi-vehicle collision, Highway 110 Northbound. Possible entrapments.” 

They both flinched instinctively, the moment shattering right in front of his eyes.

Without a word, (Y/n) set her glass down, and moved quickly towards the stairs where she bolted down. (Y/n) was halfway to the bay before Buck could even move. 

He followed her, heart pounding, the adrenaline already rising. Not just from the call, but from the ache that she’d just left him standing there, mid-sentence. Without answers.

As they reached their rigs, she stepped into her turnout gear and got into the ambulance beside Hen. Buck looked across the flashing lights as he stepped into his turnouts, catching her gaze through the windshield.

It was only a second. But there was something in her eyes. Something that said please don’t ask again, and I wish you would anyway.

_

The rain hadn’t stopped since sunset. It hammered against the rigs as they arrived on the scene. Lights painting the soaked asphalt in pulses of red and blue. The world beyond the windshield was chaos: twisted metal, shattered glass, and the distant echo of horns trapped in the storm.

Hen slowed the ambulance to a crawl, her wipers barely keeping up. “God, it’s a parking lot from hell.”  (Y/n) squinted through the streaked glass. “Dispatch said there were at least ten vehicles involved. Multi-impact.” she said. 

Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio, “We’ve got a multi-car pile up across both lanes. I want teams on extraction, medical triage, and containment. Be advices, one tanker truck’s leaking fuel. No sparks, people! Let’s move!” 

The moment they pulled to a stop, the doors flew open and the smell of gasoline hit hard, sharp, metallic, cutting right through the smell of the rain. 

“Hen, (Y/n),” Bobby barked as they jogged up to him, helmets low against the storm. “You two set up triage near the guardrail. Prioritize red tags, assist medics as needed. Chim, you and Vega handle suppression near that tanker. Keep a perimeter in case that thing lights up. Buck, Eddie, you’re on vehicle extractions. SUV on the west end looks like it took the brunt of the impact.” 

And with that, everyone moved. Years of muscle memory clicking into place.

Hen and (Y/n) grabbed their kits, sprinting through puddles toward the guardrail. The triage area was chaos already, bystanders dazed, some screaming, some eerily silent.

“Sir, can you hear me?” (Y/n) crouched beside a man slumped against a twisted bumper, her blue gloved hands already finding his pulse. Weak, but there. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. Hen, I need a pressure bandage!” she called. 

It took one second, she glances at her partner and she tossed one pressure bandage over. “Keep pressure on that leg. We’ll tag him yellow.” Hen added, (Y/n) nodded and did as Hen as a PIC told her to do. “Copy!” 

A call cut over the radio through the rain, it was Bobby again. “LAFD, sound off! Where’s that fire suppression team?”

“On it!” Chimney’s voice sounded over the radio. When (Y/n) looked over the scene while keeping pressure on the man’s leg, she found Chim on the west side, already working a foam line with Vega.

(Y/n) looked up, scanning the wrecks through the downpour. In the distance, she saw Buck and Eddie shoulder-deep in the crumpled remains of an SUV, working the jaws of life. Sparks lit the night for half a second, cutting through the storm as the door screeched free.

But then something else caught her eye.

Just beyond the chaos, faint, and barely visible through the rain, tire tracks, veering away from the pileup. They carved down the embankment toward the guardrail, where a section had been torn open.

Her stomach sank at the sight of it. “Hen,” she called, standing. “I think there’s another vehicle-” (Y/n) said. “Where?” Hen was already following her gaze.

(Y/n) jogged toward the edge, flashlight slicing through the dark. The beam caught on something far below: two faint red lights, flickering beneath the surface of the water.

“Down there,” she breathed. Then louder, into her radio, “Cap, this is (Y/n). I’ve got a submerged vehicle off the embankment, taillights visible. Looks like it’s going under!”

“Copy, (Y/n), hold position. Buck, Eddie-” Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio. But the rest of that sentence she couldn’t hear. Because she was already sliding down the muddy slope, boots skidding, rain blinding.

“(Y/n), wait!” Hen shouted, voice distant against the storm.

The cold hit her the moment she stepped into the water. It was shockingly deep, waist-high and rising fast with the current. Her flashlight beam trembled across the car as it sank nose-first.

“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?” she yelled. Inside, a man was pounding against the window, his face pale and wild. “I’m coming, just hold on!” she yelled, trying to make herself audible for the victim that was trapped inside.

She moved forward, and grabbed the door handle. But it wouldn’t open. She took a breath, ducked under, and yanked again, the pressure finally giving way as the door popped open with a violent rush of bubbles.

She surfaced, gasping. “Okay, door’s open! I’ve got you!” she said. But the man didn’t listen. He clawed for her, pure instinct taking over his thoughts and movements. His hands gripped her turnout jacket, dragging her toward him.

“Stop! Stop! You’re pulling us both under!” she shouted, trying to brace herself. But it didn’t do anything. He panicked harder, shoving against her shoulder in blind desperation to keep his head above water. Her footing slipped, the current tearing at her legs. 

The world disappeared in an instant. The cold hit like a fist. Her breath ripped out of her lungs before she could stop it, replaced by choking, metallic-tasting water.

The current pulled her sideways, tugging at her gear, dragging her deeper. She tried to push up but her foot caught on something. Her chest screamed. Her brain screamed. 

Her arms moved sluggishly, like she was underwater in a dream she couldn’t wake from. She felt the panic rising, sharp and bright, the kind that burns through every rational thought.

She clawed at the water, desperate for light, air, anything. Her lungs seized again, and the world narrowed to nothing but pressure and pounding.

Then came the quiet. A slow, creeping calm.

Her body stilled. Her eyes drifted toward the faint shimmer above her, growing smaller by the second.

Buck was elbow-deep in metal when he heard her voice through the static of his radio “I’ve got a submerged vehicle… I’m going in.”

His head snapped up, mid movement. “What?” he murmured under his breath. “Buck, door’s almost-” Eddie started, but Buck was already running towards the guardrail (Y/n) was just seconds ago. “Cap! She’s in the water!” Buck yelled. 

Bobby turned sharply, scanning the darkness. “(Y/n)! Report!” he called over the radio, but the only thing he got back was static. Nothing.

“Eddie, you’re with Buck! Hen, prep the med rig! Chim, hold that perimeter!”

Buck jumped over the guardrail, boots sliding down the slick slope. His flashlight beam skimmed across the black water. His chest went tight. “Oh, God-”

“Hey!” Buck yelled at the driver, who was half-crawling out of the shallows, coughing up water. “Where is she?!” The man looked dazed, shaking his head, eyes wide with panic.

Buck grabbed him by the soaked collar, voice breaking. “The woman who pulled you out, where is she?!” his voice filled with panic, fear and anger.

The man choked out a sob. “I-I don’t- she was there- and then- she went under-” the victim choked. Buck shoved him back toward the slope, fury and fear colliding in his chest. “Get up there! Hen’ll take care of you!” 

He turned back to the water, scanning desperately. Nothing but rain and ripples. “(Y/n)!” His voice tore through the storm.

Nothing.

His light swept across the surface again, and then caught something. A flash of reflective tape, drifting under the current. “Jesus- no-” he choked out. 

He dove in without hesitation. The cold was brutal, slicing through his gear, but he kicked hard, pushing deeper until he reached her. Buck’s lungs burned as he kicked downward, reaching blindly through the dark until his hand found fabric, the thick sleeve of a turnout jacket. He got her.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling hard. They broke the surface with a gasp, Buck dragging in lungfuls of air between words.

“I’ve got you,” he gasped, breath ragged. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you—come on, stay with me.”

Her head lolled against his shoulder, lips pale, lashes clumped with water. He swam hard for the bank, every stroke feeling slower, the weight of her gear dragging both of them down.

“Eddie!” he yelled hoarsely, voice cracking over the storm.

Eddie was already moving, sprinting down the embankment as Buck half-carried, half-pulled her through the shallows. Together, they got her onto solid ground.

“(Y/n)! Hey come on!” Buck’s hands were shaking as he turned her onto her back. Her skin was cold as ice, lips tinged blue. “She’s not breathing-” Buck choked out, his teeth almost clattering because of the cold.

Buck knelt opposite him, fumbling at the buckles of her turnout jacket. Buck’s hands were clumsy, slick with river water, but he forced the latches open, pulling the heavy coat apart to give her chest room to rise. “Come on, (Y/n), don’t do this to me…” he muttered.

“I’ve got it!” Eddie dropped to his knees beside her, immediately starting compressions. “One, two, three—come on, come on—” Eddie mumbled as he pressed down.

“Hen!” Eddie shouted over his shoulder as she came sliding down the hill. “Airway bag, now!” he ordered as he kept pushing her chest.

Hen dropped beside them, already fitting the mask, counting under her breath as she squeezed the bag valve in rhythm with Eddie’s compressions.

Buck’s world had shrunk to the sound of her name in his head, over and over. Breathe. Please. Just breathe.

Then a cough.

A wet, choking sound that cracked the night. Water spilled from her mouth as she convulsed, dragging in a desperate gasp of air.

Buck’s breath hitched half relief, half disbelief. “That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” he said. Not noticing he actually called her that. 

Eddie leaned back, panting, letting Hen take over as she fitted the oxygen mask to (Y/n)’s face. “She’s back.” he panted.

“She’s hypothermic,” Hen said sharply, checking her pulse. “We need her wrapped and moving now.”

Buck nodded, still hovering protectively over her, brushing soaked hair from her face with trembling fingers. (Y/n) moved her hand towards the oxygen mask, but before she could push it off, Buck gripped her hand. “D-d-d-river?” she mumbled through her chattering teeth. 

Buck managed a small gentle smile, of course she was thinking about that asshole after she almost died. “The driver’s okay,” he whispered to her, voice rough. “You did good. You did so damn good.” he said, pressing her hand, he was still holding, to his chest. 

Her eyes barely opened, glassy and unfocused. “Cold…” she whispered. “I know,” Buck said softly, throat tight. “We’re getting you warm.”

They managed to bring her back to the guardrail and moved her onto the gurney, securing her under thermal blankets. When they eased her into the rig, Buck hesitated for a moment. His gaze met Bobby’s, who gave him a small nod, telling him to get in the rig with her. 

Buck climbed into the rig without a second thought, dripping wet, hand still gripping hers as the ambulance doors slammed shut.

______

The city below stretched like a river of gold and silver, streets gleaming under the fading sunlight. (Y/n) sat near the edge of the firehouse roof, wrapped in a hoodie, a steaming cup of tea cupped between her hands. The warmth seeped slowly into her fingers, grounding her, but it didn’t calm the flutter in her chest.

It has been a week since the water incident, and this is her first shift back on the job. They had just gotten back from a call, and somehow, the sounds inside of the firehouse were too loud for her, so she came up here.

(Y/n) could hear the door towards the roof opening and closing, footsteps softly approaching her, but she didn’t turn, even though she knew by the sound of his breathing and the footsteps, that it was Buck. 

“Mind if I join you?” Buck’s voice asked, (Y/n) glanced over her shoulder Buck stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on her. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered back to the view of the city. “It’s yours” she said lightly, as she gestured to the empty space beside her. 

He took place beside her, and for a moment neither spoke. The distant hum of the city and the wind tugging at their jackets filled the silence. Finally, Buck exhaled. “I’ve been thinking… about the call. About you.” Buck said, breaking the silence.

(Y/n) met his gaze. “The water?” she asked, just to be sure they were on the same page. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Seeing you in the water… I don’t know. I thought I’d lost you. And I realized… I can’t just treat you like anyone else.” 

(Y/n)’s gaze drifted away, and she set her cup down next to her. She shifted slightly, gathering courage. “Buck…” she said quietly. “there’s something I need to tell you.” she continued. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, not making any eye contact, but gathering the courage to come clean. “I heard you… and Eddie. Back at the station.” she said. 

Buck stiffened slightly, his eyebrows frowning at her confession.  “Um… what do you mean?” he asked, not sure what she was talking about.

“In the locker room, you were talking to Eddie… about me” She cleared her throat softly, and scratched the back of her neck, a nervous habit. “You told him you see me as a little sister, someone to protect…”

He looked down at his hands, running a thumb along the back of one. “(Y/n) I’m so sorry… that’s-” He stopped. “It’s not what I meant..” he stuttered. 

“I know,” she interrupted gently, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “And I get it now. But… I wish we could start over.”

He blinked, looking at her. “Start over?”

She nodded, shrugging slightly. “I did some dumb shit too. I avoided you, overthought everything… I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Buck’s chest rose and fell as if he’d been holding his breath for weeks. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” she said quietly.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, almost without thinking, she leaned in. They hugged tight, full of relief, fear, gratitude, and the unspoken weight of everything between them. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder; his arms wrapped around her automatically.

When they pulled back, their eyes met again. Too close. Too intense. They both could feel it, the brush of lips, the lingering closeness. The air around them seemed to thrum with possibility.

And then the door to the staircase that led to the rooftop got pushed open, a loud thud sounding. “Oh hey sweethearts, dinner is served!” Hen informed the two, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the two.

Both jumped slightly, breaking the tension and immediately creating more space in between the two of them. “We’re coming Hen, just give us a second.” Buck answered, Hen smirked and nodded. “Hmm” she mumbled and took off again.

They laughed nervously as she left, hearts still racing. Buck exhaled, “I’m Buck,” he said, grinning softly, trying to anchor the moment in something safe.

She laughed, shaking her head at his “joke,” but took his hand anyway. “(Y/n),” she said, letting the words land. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/n)”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“How is every engineer in City busy?” Alexei demanded. “I fix it!”

“No!” Half a dozen voices rang out in unison.

“I'll fix it,” Bucky announced, standing up.

For you, the relief was immediate.

“You?” Ava asked, highly skeptical.

“Me. Fixed Sam's boat. What's an AC unit gonna do?”

“Blow up?” You shrugged.

“Better come with me then, in case it explodes.”

“No way.”

“It'll be cooler in the basement?”

“Deal.”

Across the room, John nudged Ava and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Have fun!”

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

“In this heat?” Lena grimaced. “Disgusting.”

“Fuck you, Walker!” You gave him the middle finger as you followed Bucky out of the room and into the elevator.

“You've gotta stop touching me in front of them,” you said as soon as the doors were closed. “They're gonna know.”

“They already do, babe.” He shrugged.

The basement was cooler, barely.

You found the hopeless AC unit wheezing and whirring. Bucky looked around it, his eyebrows pinched together.

Whatever this was, it hadn't been going on for long. Weeks and months of tense sparring sessions, flirty comments, and open ogling had culminated in him turning up at your door one night and barely putting you down since.

You hopped up to sit on a crate while he ‘worked’. In reality, it was a chance to ogle.

“Can feel you watching me, sweetheart. Something you need?”

“In this heat? Come near me and I'll bite you.”

“Promise?” As he turned to ask the question, he yanked a hose out of the unit.

With a violent hiss, a plume of freezing mist streamed out. “Oh. Shit.” He turned back to the unit.

“Want me to hold anything?” You peered around the unit. While you were distracted, he placed his left palm on the back of your neck.

The vibranium was ice cold against your hot, sticky skin. “Ohh fuck -” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He stepped behind you, replacing his hand with his mouth. His hand, still cold, pulled the neck of your cami down and pinched your quickly pebbling nipple.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, giving him a perfect view down your body. Your back arched into his touch.

“Still too hot?” He murmured against your neck.

“Mmm, why? You gonna cool me down?”

“Gonna try,” he removed his hand, warmed by your skin, and put it back in the path of the freezing steam.

“S'too hot, Buck,” you insisted, moving out of his hold. Your body was on fire.

“C'mon, I'll do that thing?” He held you tighter, his voice pleading. “Need to touch you, baby.”

The fog hissed, curling around his wrist.

He dragged the cold vibranium fingers back along your collarbone, then lower, tracing the swell of your breast until you gasped. The contrast made your skin pebble under his touch - hot and flushed, meeting ice cold metal.

“That better?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

You didn’t answer. Not with words, just a low, breathy moan.

He circled your nipple with the very tips of his fingers, letting the cold settle in, sharp enough to make you shiver - then cupped your breast in full. A soft whimper escaped you, hips twitching as heat pooled low in your belly.

“Still too warm,” he said, almost to himself.

His hand slipped lower. Past your stomach. Down between your thighs.

The first brush of cold fingers against your slick heat made your whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” you hissed, breath catching.

“That’s it,” he murmured, dragging the metal through your folds again - slower this time, letting you feel the contrast between hot and cold.

Then - a sharp, deliberate slap.

It wasn’t hard, just sudden - a stinging smack of cold against the wet heat of your pussy, and your hips bucked instinctively, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

“Jesus,” you gasped, “do that again.”

He chuckled low in your ear. “Told you.”

Another slap, a little firmer this time. The sound of it, sharp and obscene, sent a shockwave straight through your gut. Then his fingers were between your folds, stroking with slow, steady pressure - cool vibranium rubbing where you needed it most.

“You’re soaking,” he growled. “All that heat getting to you?”

“You,” you whispered, grinding into his hand. “It’s you, Bucky, fuck -”

One finger slid inside - impossibly cold, your body clenching around him eagerly, greedy for it. Then another. He moved them in slow, curling thrusts while his thumb circled your clit in soft, frosty sweeps.

His teeth grazed your neck, his right hand held your hip steady while his left had you seeing god.

It was overwhelming. Heat and cold, sharp slaps and gentle strokes - your nerves couldn’t tell which was coming next.

When he smacked you again, right against your clit this time, your whole body jerked, your thighs trembling. He held you up against him, your back slicked with sweat against his broad chest.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, hips grinding helplessly against him, pressing hard against your ass. “Don’t stop, please -”

“Not planning to, sweetheart.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the heel of his hand pressing just right. And when he slapped you again, just once more, timed perfectly, it tipped you over the edge.

You came hard, body arching, a cry caught in your throat as everything clenched and broke open.

He held you through it, murmuring something against your neck you couldn’t even hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

“Oh god,” you breathed heavily.

With an obscene pop, he removed his hand from your aching pussy. He brought his digits to your mouth and you licked them clean.

He turned you gently, leaning you against the AC unit, pulled your top back up, and placed the softest kiss to your lips.

He weaved his hand through the freezing steam one more time and placed it between your shoulder blades. The cool relief made you sigh, the memory of his cold touch made your hips jerk against him, still hard.

“You not done, baby?”

Despite the heat, you arched into him, winding your arms around his neck.

“Not even close. Come take a cold shower with me?”

“Shower?” he grinned, gripping your thighs. “Nah, I want to make you sweat harder first.”

Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.

You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.

And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.

Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.

Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.

Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.

After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.

With the exception of Evan Buckley.

You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)

You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.

It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.

So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.

Or so you think.

“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”

“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”

You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.

“Did Buck say something to you?”

What.

“What?”

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.

“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.

Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.

You settle for the super abridged version.

“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”

You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?

Bobby hums, contemplating.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“

Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”

Too close too close too close too close—

Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.

“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”

Laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”

Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.

“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”

Flash a smile, appease the man.

“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”

You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.

That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—

A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.

It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”

You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”

“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”

“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”

You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?

What does he want?

He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.

“…Are you okay?”

You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.

“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.

“I thought you went home early last night?”

Your smile wavers.

Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)

“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”

He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.

“Why do you do that?”

Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.

“Do what?”

“That lying thing.”

Smile? Laugh? Sit down?

Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.

He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”

You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”

“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“

“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”

You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”

You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.

“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”

“Nope.”

You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”

He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”

This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”

You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”

“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”

His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.

You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.

“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”

Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“

“No, I think you meant what you said.”

He sighs. “Can we start over?”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”

PRETTY?

“You think I’m pretty?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.

You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.

“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”

“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

The gears in your brain turn.

“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”

He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”

You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”

Your words hang in silence for a moment.

“Well when you put it like that—“

“Is there another way to put it?”

“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”

You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”

His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”

“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”

Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”

You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.

“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.

“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”

“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”

He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”

Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.

He frowns. “Are you oka—“

You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”

You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.

“…Can you turn around?”

You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“

“Shut up or I’ll say no.”

He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”

“I might.”

“Mm. Nope.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”

“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”

“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”

“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”

“Ew.”

“Having friends is gross?”

“Yes. Get out of my office.”

He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”

“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”

Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?

Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“So when are you free for our date?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.

“Um. Saturday?”

“Cool. You have my number, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”

He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."

He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”

And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.

He called you pretty.

—

Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?

Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.

You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.

"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.

A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.

"Thanks."

She just nods. "Something on your mind?"

You blink, a little questioning.

"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"

"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."

You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."

"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."

Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."

"Interesting method."

You shrug. "It's Buck."

Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"

"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.

"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."

Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."

Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."

You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."

Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."

Smile. Laugh.

"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."

Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."

She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."

You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."

Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.

--

Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.

"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."

You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."

"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.

You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."

Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."

You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."

"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"

You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."

"Stop eating them--"

"I have to finish them!"

"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.

"Nope!" You call back.

"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."

Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"

Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"

"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"

"Because you cooked it?"

He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."

Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.

"It was a valid concern," You mumble.

"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--

"I can physically feel how tense you just got."

Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.

"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."

"You don't count."

"Mm, how come?"

You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.

"Cause you think I'm pretty."

"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."

"That's not how that works."

"It's not?"

"No."

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."

--

Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.

When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.

Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--

A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.

You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.

"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"

Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."

You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.

"Are... you okay?"

You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."

His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"

You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.

"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"

You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.

You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.

"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."

He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."

Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."

He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"

A beat passes.

Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."

You laugh a little, a nervous thing.

"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.

"Sorry," You say on instinct.

He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"

You look down at your feet. "My outfit."

"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."

Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--

"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."

Oh.

"But your reservation--"

"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."

Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."

"You really like those flowers, huh?"

"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"What? No way."

"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."

"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."

"We are?"

He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"

"Well it was kind of a mess."

He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."

You gape at him. "Those are real?"

He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"

He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."

You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.

You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"Absolutely. More takeout?"

"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."

He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."

“Buck?”

“Kitchen!” 

You place your keys in the bowl near the entryway and hang your cardigan on the hook before making your way further into Buck’s house. You’re greeted with the view of your boyfriend in an apron, stirring something on the stove and simultaneously checking whatever’s in the oven. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face when you hear his faint humming to the music coming out of his phone that’s resting on the counter. 

“You’re home!” Buck calls out, eyes bright and wide smile as he puts the lid back on the pot and lowers the flame on the stove. You don’t correct him when he calls this your home despite you not living there, considering you’re at his house nearly everyday, so often he just expects you to be there when he gets home or when he’s off before you he expects you to walk through the door when you’re off work. On the odd day you decide to head to your apartment, you receive a “Where are you? When are you coming home?” phone call from him (which is why you’ve made a mental note to ask Buck if it’s even worth renewing your lease in two months). “Dinner’ll be ready in, like, fifteen minutes.” He grabs his oven mitts and bends down to take the cupcakes out of the oven. “Could you get the frosting out of the fridge, babe? It’s in the container with the blue lid.”

You head over toward the fridge to grab the frosting, opening the lid before he can ask and placing it near the closest open flame so it can soften quicker. “What kind?”

“Cinnamon frosting for chocolate and vanilla cupcakes,” he lifts the pan with the cupcakes. “They’re for Jee’s class, for her birthday tomorrow.” He picks one of the cupcakes up from the third tray, tilting it toward you. “But I’ve got an extra cupcake for you, cupcake.” 

“You’re an angel,” you swoon, watching as he mixes the quickly defrosting icing to spread it on top of your cupcake. “You’re so much more productive on your days off than I am. Cooking and baking for me instead of resting?”

“Just like takin’ care of you,” he mumbles, peeling off the sleeve and holding the cupcake up to your mouth. “Open up, pretty girl.” 

Your opened mouth immediately shuts and you pull away from his stretched out hand, causing Buck’s eyebrows to pull in and for him to bring the cupcake closer toward himself and away from you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, inspecting the cupcake still in his hand. “Does it smell weird? Like, burnt?” He glances back up at you when he doesn’t notice anything immediately wrong with your treat, just to see the flush of color in your face and the way you’re avoiding his gaze. “You okay, pretty girl?” He smiles when you breathe out a laugh, a little relieved that his baking isn’t what short-circuited you. “Is it too warm in here?”

“N-no,” you stutter, reaching out to grasp his wrist and bring the cupcake back up to your mouth, taking a small bite. You hum around it, giving him a little nod. “Delicious, as always.” 

“Got something here, pretty girl,” he leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth, licking off the small amount of frosting that’s collected there. His eyebrows furrow in confusion again when you exhale with another laugh, but his smile stays in place. It doesn’t click that it’s the pet name that causes you to spiral, shrugging inwardly and taking a bite from your cupcake, too. “You like it?”

“Like what?” You ask, a little dazed from the pet name and the way he cleaned the icing off your face, but you follow him for another kiss when he pulls away. 

“The cupcake,” he says, meeting you again for another kiss when you just nod and beam up at him, then he’s moving back to ice the rest of the cupcakes with your help. 

He lets it slip out again two days later when he has to leave you in bed to head to work. After he’s gotten ready to leave, he makes his way back to where you lay in his bed so he can lean down and pepper kisses all over your face. 

“Stay,” you whine, dragging out the word and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. He laughs a little as he basically stumbles on top of you, catching his weight by planting his palms on the mattress, bracketing you between his arms. . 

“I’ll be back before you know it, pretty girl,” he promises, pecking you with three kisses and smiling when you giggle into it. He doesn’t miss the way your grip on him tightens, but he chalks it up to you not wanting him to leave. Once he whispers an I love you into your neck, giving you one last kiss there, he’s off. 

The next time he lets it out, and when he realizes it has an effect on you, is when he’s on top of you, his hands roaming underneath your (his) shirt while his mouth trails open-mouthed kisses across your stomach. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, “so, so pretty.” He pulls away to crawl back up, giving you a proper kiss, which you return enthusiastically, pulling at his curls a little rougher than you intend to, but he moans into your kiss before you can apologize. “My pretty girl.” He pulls away to glance at you when you tug his hair in a way that makes him think you want him to stop, his name slipping past your lips in a broken plea. He’s about to ask if he did something wrong until he notices the flush on your face. It isn’t warm in here and you two haven’t done much to work you up enough to get you so hot. So… “Oh,” his smiles, dangerously close to smug, “you like that?”

“Buck,” you whine, turning your face away from him and into the pillows. Your stomach swoops at the sound of his laugh, not fighting him when he gently grips your chin to turn you back to look at him. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” he promises, leaning down to kiss you again. He laughs when you begin to squirm underneath him, pulling away just enough to whisper, “I’ll take care of you, pretty girl. Don’t worry.”

It comes more frequently after that, with him never calling too much attention to it. You get a “good job, pretty girl,” when you nail his new recipe on the first try, a “missed you, pretty girl,” when he gets home from a twenty-four hour shift, any time he can call you that he can. Just to pull that giggle out of you, that flush that spreads across your face, sometimes even across your neck and chest. 

One day, two months later, you come home (yes, home. Buck finally convinced you to move in all the way) and the lights are dim with the smell of your favorite dish wafting throughout the house, the stove being on, warms the entire home. 

“That you, baby?” He calls out, turning when he hears your footsteps near the entry door to the kitchen. He steps away after turning the stovetop off, taking three long strides over toward you and wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you gently in your embrace. “Happy anniversary,” he mumbles into your shoulder, placing light kisses along the exposed skin there. 

“Happy anniversary,” you say back, voice muffled where you have your face buried in his neck. He places you down and pulls away just enough to press a brief kiss to your lips. “You made my favorite.”

“I did,” he nudges you toward the table, pulling your seat out for you. “It’s also what you ordered on our first date.”

“Mmm, I remember,” you say around a smile, watching him flit around the kitchen as he plates your meal and uncorks a bottle of wine – one you notice is the same wine you had on your first date. “You recreating our first date, Buckley? Aren’t you a big ol’romantic.”

“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” he mumbles, finally setting everything on the table and sitting across from you. “Just wanted to celebrate all the steps we’re taking. A year in, you finally moved in…” he trails off at the end, watching as you pick up the wine to fill up his glass first and then your own. His eyes move down the slopes of your face and the way that your cardigan is slightly slipping off your shoulder. He leans over to pull it up, causing you to glance back at him. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, not even meaning to make you bashful. 

“Yeah,” you lightly scoff, grabbing his hand that was still fixated near your shoulder, bringing your clasped hands to rest on top of the table. “You’re being nice. I haven’t looked at a mirror in, like, ten hours, but I’m sure I look a little rough.” You smile when Buck starts to shake his head halfway through your complaint, feeling him squeeze your hand. 

“My pretty girl forever,” he gently argues, his free hand digging into his front pocket. He pulls his hand out and stretches it toward you, urging you to give him your other hand. Your eyebrows furrow at the fist he’s making, but you give in and rest your other hand between you, palm up so he can hold yours. Except he doesn’t hold your hand, he lays his palm on top of yours long enough to drop whatever he fished out of his pocket into your hand. 

“We said no gifts!” You start to say, the argument falling short when you look down to see a ring in your palm. “W–what’s this?”

“It’s forever,” he tries to say casually, but his voice shakes with the nerves that nearly shock his entire system. “If you want it,” he quickly adds, “because… because I want it. With you.” He watches you stare at the ring, your fingers turning it over to inspect it. Your silence makes his stomach turn—maybe it was too soon. You’ve only been together a year, you just moved in officially a couple of weeks ago. So, he keeps talking. “We don’t have to get married right away, obviously. We can… we can stay engaged for, like, a year. It doesn’t even have to be an engagement ring!” He gets up from his seat, rounding the table to kneel in front of it, biting back a wince when he bends his knee. “It—you can tell people it’s a promise ring, y’know? Just… just wear it on your right hand instead.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, great,” he quickly pinches the ring from you and places it on the ring finger on your right hand, misunderstanding your confirmation to his proposal. “Perfect. Perfect. A promise f-for forever.”

“Buck,” you breathe out his name, shaking your head with a little laugh as you remove the ring and place it on your left hand, where it belongs. “Of course I’ll marry you, are you kidding?” You bring your hand up to inspect the ring, your face hurting from the wide smile that’s split across your face. “Holy shit!” You yell around a laugh, finally looking at Buck, taking his confused face between your hands and pressing quick kisses all over it. “We’re getting married!”

“We’re getting married?” He asks, but it comes out muffled because of the way you’re pushing his cheeks in. When it registers that your yes was to his initial proposal he jumps up from his kneeled position, ignoring the ache he feels in his knee from the quick movement. His hands find yours on his face, pulling you up with him. “We’re getting married!” He cheers, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, adjusting you accordingly when you wrap your legs around him. “Holy shit, you said yes.”

“Of course I said yes!” You laugh, lowering your face to meet him halfway in a kiss. 

“Oh, my God,” he breathes out when you pull away, shaking his head at you. “No take back’s.”

“No take back’s,” you agree, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of that thought. “You and me forever, Buckley.”

A rocks glass is placed down onto the table in front of you with a thud. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of the best man towering over you expectantly with a drink in his hand.

“Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoff, staring up at him through your lashes.

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yeah. But why?”

“It’s whiskey. I watched you grimace every time you had to drink the champagne, so I thought you’d want something different.”

You swirl the glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice against the sides.

“You were watching me, huh?”

“Of course I was. Can’t take my eyes off you in that dress.”

“Shut up,” you chide, fighting to keep the grin off your face. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“The whole best man and maid of honour thing. It’s just too cliched.”

He laughs all hearty and genuine, and you poignantly ignore the way the butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Evan.”

“Oh, you will be,” he winks, knocking his glass against yours in a quick cheers before walking off to the find the groom.

You watch him go, not completely oblivious to the way his suit fits him just right. Determined to stand your ground, you inhale a deep breath before taking a sip of your drink. The drink that definitely isn’t exactly what you needed. The drink that he’d practically read your mind to figure out. Effortlessly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been like this all day.

You met Evan Buckley for the first time last night, at the rehearsal dinner. The bride, your best friend in the world, kept telling you that you’d love the best man.

“He’s from California,” she’d said. “He’s Danny’s friend from when they were kids. He’s a firefighter, babe. He’s hot.”

You’d laughed it off, zipping up the back of her dress while she watched you in the mirror.

“Oh, come on. That’s so cliched. The whole maid of honour and best man thing is so old, Lucy.”

“You’re single, he’s single,” she’d protested. “It’d do you some good to get laid, relieve some stress. And people let their guards down at weddings. Now’s your chance.”

“If I wanted to get laid, I’d get laid,” you scoffed.

“All I’m saying is that Buck is completely your type. He’s gorgeous, he’s funny, he’s sweet. And you’re gonna have to spend a fair bit of time together tonight and tomorrow, so… just keep an open mind.”

“Fine,” you soothed, rolling your eyes. “Mind wide open. Alright?”

“You’re gonna love him.”

“You said that already.”

“Because I really believe it. You’re gonna love him.”

And the problem is… she was kind of right.

No, you don’t love him. You’ve known him for 48 hours. But… there’s something.

Lucy wasn’t lying. He is gorgeous, and funny, and sweet. And hot. So hot. He showed up to the rehearsal dinner in dress pants and a linen shirt, all sun kissed and muscled and tanned and stunning.

The two of you were seated next to each other, planned so carefully by the bride and groom. One minute you were making cautious introductions, shaking hands and smiling gently. The next minute you were crying with laughter, clutching at his bicep as he grabs your thigh, legs intertwined and chairs pulled together.

Lucy and Danny nudge each other occasionally, watching the both of you get along like two old friends that have known each other forever. A look passes between them that says I told you so clear as day.

But you’re stubborn. Too stubborn, some may say. You know you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends if you give into this very alluring temptation, and perhaps your pride means a bit more to you than it should. So you resist, you refuse to give in. Even if you really want to.

And that was just last night. Today has been even worse.

By worse, you mean the connection between you and Evan has grown even stronger. You walked down the aisle with him, arm linked with his, both dressed up to the nines. The maid of honour and the best man, a perfect picture.

You haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other all day. Little touches - his fingers on the small of your back, your grip on his bicep, shoulders brushing and thighs pressed together. Nothing crazy, but nothing meaningless, either. There’s an undeniable electricity buzzing between you, hot and alive.

You’re not sure how much longer you can deny it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re dancing with Lucy and her little nieces when you hear yelling and commotion coming from the other side of the dance floor. Looking over, you see Danny, Evan and other groomsmen flailing around and fussing.

“What happened?” Lucy’s yelling, making her way over with you in tow.

“Just a drink spillage, Luce! But it’s red wine, and now Buck’s shirt is pink.”

You look at the man in question and can’t help but laugh. His crisp white dress shirt is now a pretty shade of pink across the front, his cheeks a rosy colour to match.

“Stop laughing,” he chides, but he’s grinning at you as he says it. “I need to go and change. I have a spare shirt in my suitcase upstairs.”

He starts to leave, but soon turns around and calls your name.

“I don’t have a key for that big door at the end of the hallway to get to our rooms. Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s in my purse. You want it?”

“Just come with me. It’ll be easier.”

Before you can argue, he’s taken off, big strides across the garden. You have to practically run in your heels to keep up with him, shaking your head in frustration.

“I could have just given you this,” you say when you reach the door, unlocking it for him.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The smirk he gives you is so cheeky, it’s a wonder you don’t smack it off his face. Cocky bastard.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, walking with purpose to his room.

“Come in with me? It’ll only take a minute, then we can walk back together.”

You know you should say no, tell him that you’ll meet him downstairs. But you don’t. Instead, you say,

“Fine. But hurry up. I don’t wanna miss the party.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mock salutes, unlocking the door to his room that’s conveniently directly across from yours.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid watching him undress. He shrugs off his now pink shirt, taking it with him into the bathroom.

You’re surprised at how tidy everything is. Not that you think Evan would be particularly messy, but he doesn’t strike you as a neat and clean type. His suitcase is unpacked into the closet, bed made, nothing on the floor. It only makes you like him more.

“Can you grab my other shirt from the closet please, gorgeous? The one I wore last night for the rehearsal dinner.”

You swing the two doors open and rifle around, failing to see the linen button up that he’s looking for. Suddenly, you feel a warmth behind you, Buck’s solid form caging you in. He reaches around you, arm brushing yours as he finds what he needs.

“Found it,” he murmurs into your ear, all low and honeyed.

Against your better judgment, you turn around, finding yourself face to face with him. He towers over you, watching your reactions carefully. Your hands reach out and rest on his bare chest, steadying yourself before you either fall over or pass out.

Buck gently traces your bottom lip with his thumb, eyes completely locked on yours. You have to resist every urge to either bite it or suck it into your mouth, reminding yourself that now isn’t the time. The noise from the garden floats up and through the window that’s cracked open slightly, tethering you to the reality that is slowly fading away the longer you hold Evan’s gaze.

He leans in, and to your surprise, doesn’t kiss you immediately. Pressing his forehead to yours, he inhales deeply, as if committing the moment to memory. His thumbs are now tracing gentle circles on your jaw, soft and callous at the same time. You inhale slowly, processing the scent of his cologne mixed with the evening breeze. If you could bottle it up, you think, you’d be a millionaire. This would cure everything.

Buck finally closes down the gap between you, inching towards your lips softly. You shut your eyes, waiting for him to finally kiss you - when there’s deafening knocking on the door. The two of you jump apart, hearts pounding and nerves on a live wire.

Evan strides over to the source of the noise, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself as he goes. You perch on the edge of the bed, smoothing down your dress and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Buck? Dude, it’s Jake. Hurry up, yeah? The guys wanna do our dance routine before everyone gets too drunk to remember it.”

He doesn’t bother opening the door, just yells back through the wood.

“Yeah, sure - I’ll be down in a minute!”

You hear Jake’s footsteps retreat, both of you exhaling the breaths you didn’t know you’d been holding. Buck looks at you, worried that the moment’s been ruined, to find you stifling a laugh behind your hand.

“There’s a dance routine?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “We created it years ago. The guys won’t let it die.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this.”

You’re cackling, reclining onto the duvet as you laugh.

“Stop,” he groans, jumping over to flop onto his back on the bed next to you. “I did a lot of regrettable things in college… and that routine is definitely the worst of it.”

“I hope you know that you’re never going to live this down, Buckley. I’ll be reminding you of this forever.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at you. “You really like me, huh?”

“What the hell gave you that impression?”

“You said forever. What’s next, honey? You gonna get down on one knee later?”

You’re suddenly aware of the warmth of the whiskey flowing through your veins, giving you a liquid confidence that stuns both you and the man lying next to you.

“Two knees, maybe. But not one.”

His eyes go wide as you smirk, pulling yourself off the bed and making your way over to the door. Buck watches you carefully, gaze steady and firm.

“You coming? I’m more than ready to see those moves of yours.”

He stands up, slipping on his shoes and shrugging the clean shirt onto his broad shoulders. You grab your purse, leaning against the doorframe as you wait.

Evan reaches past you for the door handle, nose purposely brushing yours as he does it.

“I’ll hold you to what you said before,” he murmurs, moving a strand of hair away from your face softly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

You look up at him with big doe eyes, like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Sure, Evan,” you reply lowly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Breaking away from him, you swing the door open, strutting down the hallway without looking back. Your confidence has sky rocketed, knowing that he wants this just as badly as you do. You walk back out to the garden and take your earlier seat, ready for the show you’ve been promised.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dance routine is spectacular.

It’s cheesy and hilarious and very early 2000s inspired - it’s almost like watching a music video from a boy band you loved when you were a teenager. It should embarrass you, turn you off majorly, but… it doesn’t. It only does the opposite.

Everything Buck does makes you like him more.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing, laughing, and floating on cloud nine. In a garden in Italy, surrounded by your best friends - you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

As the evening dwindles to an end, everyone slowly begins making their way back to their rooms within the villa. You sit down, unbuckling your heels to finally give your feet a rest. It almost feels like deja vu when a rocks glass is placed down in front of you on the table.

“Hi, Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yes, but why?”

He pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down, looking at you intently.

“Thought we could have a nightcap before we go upstairs.”

You look around to find that mostly everyone has decided to call it a day. You can see Lucy and Danny walking off hand in hand, going for a stroll around the grounds before they let the wedding officially be over. It just leaves you and Buck, sat in your original places.

“Is this Baileys?”

“Yes ma’am. Do you like it? I figured you probably wouldn’t want another whiskey, seeing as you’ve had so many.”

You scoff, trying to fight the grin that threatens to take over your face.

“I’ve had, like, four, thank you very much.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“Cheers, Evan,” you toast, clinking your glass against his matching one. “We did it. A wedding without a hitch. Mostly.”

“My shirt will never be white again, but besides that, we did a pretty good job.”

“We make a good team.”

He looks slightly taken aback by your honesty, trying to hide his smirk.

“Yes, we do. A super hot, super funny team.”

“A super hot, super funny team.”

You both laugh, heads thrown back with no cares in the world. Buck shuffles his chair forward so his legs are slotted on either side of you, warm skin radiating into yours. The moonlight is glinting off of his cheekbones, illuminating the light streaks in his hair. You’re a little tipsy and much too tired to fully fight your feelings anymore.

He’s beautiful, and you’re sick of denying it.

The two of you finish off your drinks, sat in a comfortable silence beneath the starry night sky. His hand has found its way onto your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into your bare skin. You’re sneaking glances at him when he looks away, admiring the way he’s glowing, buzzed off of the alcohol and the excitement of the day. He’s doing the same with you, soft smile etched onto his face as he watches you gaze up at the stars above your heads.

A yawn escapes you, making both of you chuckle.

“I’ll walk you to your room?”

“Well, you better. I’m the only one of us with a key for that big door.”

He laughs even harder, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I forgot about that. If you weren’t here, I’d have slept on the floor in the hallway or something.”

“Probably wouldn’t be the first time,” you mutter, standing up and tucking your chair under the table.

“Sorry, what was that? Say it again? Hmm? Hmm?” he wraps his arms around your middle, spinning you so your feet are no longer on the floor.

“Okay, okay! Put me down before I throw up,” you shriek, giggling like a teenager.

He places you back down, hands on your hips to steady you. You look up at him, keeping your eyes fixed on his to steady yourself from the dizziness. When you feel ready to go, you clear your throat, willing yourself to walk away before you kiss him stupid.

“We should go to bed,” you whisper, afraid to ruin the moment.

“Yeah?”

“Separate beds,” you tell him sternly, chuckling when he cackles.

“Yes ma’am.”

Buck walks you back to your room in a gentlemanly fashion, looping your arm through his to keep you both upright. When you reach your door, your fingers linger on the handle, as if you’re not quite ready to go inside just yet.

Reaching out gently, he moves a strand of hair from your face, fingertips brushing your cheekbone as he does it. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut at the sweet contact.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmurs lowly. “Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.”

He takes a step back towards his door when you speak again.

“Evan?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything, today. You’ve been a damn good best man.”

“Well, thank you. For being the best maid of honour.”

You nod, smiling like an idiot as you unlock your door and shut it behind you. You take a deep breath when you’re finally inside, throwing down your heels onto the floor and your purse onto the side table. Reaching behind you, your fingers tug at the zipper on your dress, attempting to pull it down.

It’s only now you realise your dilemma. The zipper is on an awkward place on your back, right where you can’t get to. You think quickly back to this morning - one of the bridesmaids doing the dress up for you, pulling the material taut as she fastened it. You’re not going to be able to get this off yourself.

Finding the purse that you discarded minutes earlier, you aim to find a hair clip. If you can loop a bobby pin into the zipper, you think, you might be able to pull it yourself. You root around in it for a second, before pulling out two phones.

Well, fuck.

You’d completely forgotten that Evan had given it to you earlier in the evening, worried that it was going to get broken if it stayed in his back pocket. You’d tucked it away and not thought about it again.

Until now.

Now, you’re realising that you’re going to have to go and give it back. He probably hasn’t remembered that you have it, otherwise you’re sure he’d be knocking on the door or yelling across the hallway.

You stand in the middle of your room, with two phones and a stuck zipper, wondering if the universe thinks this is funny.

You’re certainly not laughing.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Evan?”

He swings the door open, facing you in his suit trousers with no shirt on.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I have your phone.”

Holding it out to him, his fingertips brush yours as he takes it from you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about this. Thanks, pretty.”

“Of course.”

You stand and look at each other for a second, so much left unsaid.

“Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Anything.”

His instantly willingness has butterflies fluttering in your stomach, flitting and lightweight and undeniable.

“Can you help me get my dress off?”

When he smirks and goes to speak, you cut him off quickly.

“The zipper is stuck, Evan. Alice zipped me up this morning and I can’t undo it by myself.”

“This is a very long winded way of asking me to get you naked, gorgeous.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“If that’s what I wanted, I would just ask you, Buckley.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Can you help me or not?”

He’s laughing, now, head thrown back with it. You hate the way it makes your heart sing.

“You coming in? Or you want me to undress you in the hallway?”

“You’re not undressing- fuck, you’re annoying.”

He’s still chuckling when he ushers you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you both.

“How do you wanna do this? Lights on, lights off? Curtains open or shut? Music? Candles?”

“Undo the damn zipper before I smack you.”

His laughter is rumbling through his chest, contagious in its nature. You want to be angry at him, but you just can’t seem to find it in you.

“Turn around, gorgeous.”

You spin to face the door, taking a deep breath as you anticipate his touch. You feel his warmth behind you, fingertips dancing over the skin of your shoulders before they reach your zipper. You can’t see him, but you can envisage the sight - his broad chest, thick neck, that beautiful sun kissed glow he’s developed over the past few days. Your lungs heave as the room suddenly feels like it’s a thousand degrees.

Buck slides the zipper down your back slowly, with intent and clarity. When it reaches your coccyx, he stops, resting his other hand on your hip to keep you steady.

You know you should step away, maybe throw him a quick thanks as you leave. But you do believe in fate, whether you like to admit it or not - and this entire night has felt like it’s been written in the stars.

Who are you to deny what the universe is so clearly gifting you?

You let your arms relax, sighing as the dress falls off of you and down to the floor. You step out of it, finally turning around to face Buck wearing nothing but your lacy white underwear. Surprisingly, there’s not an ounce of self consciousness in your body. The only thing you feel is desire.

For the first time since you’ve met him, Evan is completely speechless. His eyes rove over you, drinking in the sight in front of him, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in awe, fingers itching to reach out and touch you. “The minute I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were real.”

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me, please.”

He grins, surging forward to cup your cheek with one hand while the other finds its home on your waist.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

“Finally.”

Buck leans in and presses his lips to yours surprisingly gently, testing the waters. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him as close as possible. He gets the message, reeling you in and deepening the kiss until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

You’re being walked backwards and into the wall, pushed up against it for leverage. You hike a leg up over Bucks hip, groaning when the two of you grind forwards at the same time. His hands are everywhere - your face, tits, ass, waist - anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s not quite sure where he wants them, as if he’s worried he’ll leave somewhere untouched.

“You’re all I’ve thought about for two days,” he’s muttering into your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. “Driving me crazy.”

“I got myself off last night,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks at the spot under your ear. “Thinking about you.”

“Fuck,” he moans, sinking down to his knees in front of you. “Tell me more. Please.”

It’s almost biblical, the sight of him. On his knees, practically begging, looking up at you like you’re his saviour. You’re dizzy with the power, blood rushing straight to your head.

Buck presses kisses into your leg, starting at your calves and moving up. When he gets to your inner thigh, he gazes up at you, pleading with his eyes for you to continue.

“Tell me more or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down and off.

“Okay, okay,” you pant, dropping your head back against the wall. “I, I- I couldn’t stop thinking about your arms in that shirt. The, the, the-”

You’re stuttering as he licks a stripe up your core, diving in with no hesitation. His fingers are gripping your thighs so hard you know it’ll bruise, and you can’t wait to feel the imprints in the morning.

“The?”

He’s pulled away to look at you with his brow quirked, dirty smirk etched across his face.

“Keep going, gorgeous. You haven’t even got to the good part. Neither of us have.”

You scoff at him in defiance, but slide your fingers into his hair to tug him back to where you want him.

“You looked so strong,” you continue, sighing when his tongue finds your core again. “Kept thinking about how easily you could throw me around. Pick me up, sit me on your face…”

Buck groans, all deep and rumbled, and the vibrations have your legs going weak. He doubles down on his efforts, slipping his tongue inside as his nose nudges your clit. He’s a fast learner, taking mental note of the spots and pressures that make your knees buckle.

“Keep going,” he mumbles into your core.

“You keep going,” you retort, pulling at his hair.

He chuckles but obliges your request, sucking your clit into his mouth with purpose. You’re shaking, holding onto him for dear life as you reach your climax. The moan you let out is borderline pornographic, and it has Buck palming himself over his suit trousers with a groan.

“Fuck, Evan,” you pant, chest heaving as you slump into the wall. “You need to grab me before I collapse. My legs are jelly.”

Laughing as he does it, he stands up and wraps his arms around your middle, holding you against him as tightly as he can.

“You okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Better than ever.”

He rests his lips on your forehead, both of you breathing each other in for a moment.

“Can’t believe you were right across the hallway from me, trying to be quiet while you were getting yourself off,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your back. “You should have come over here. I would have helped you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you tease, cupping his face in your hands. “I was still acting like I didn’t wanna rip your clothes off back then.”

“Knew you’d crack eventually,” he winks, grinning when you laugh.

You pull him into you for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, clearly telling him exactly what you want.

“You gonna fuck me, Evan? Or are we just gonna stand here all night?”

He shakes his head with a smirk before throwing you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce back off. As he starts to crawl over to you, you stop him with a foot on his chest.

“Nuh uh. You’re wearing too many clothes. Strip, Buckley.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He’s standing up immediately, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off in one fell swoop. His boxers are next, leaving him stood bare and beautiful in front of you.

“Fuck. You’re not real,” you breathe out, eyes dancing over him.

“Oh I am so real,” he’s reassuring, situating himself on top of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down so you can grind your hips into his.

“I’ve been waiting two days for this,” you murmur into his lips. “Make it worth my while, please.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he teases, kissing you again with such a force that you’re dizzy.

Buck sucks a bruise into your collarbone, licking a stripe up your sternum and tasting the salt that sits on your skin. Your patience is wearing thinner and thinner, anticipation bubbling up in your veins.

“How’d you want it?” he whispers into your ear.

“Just- deep. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”

He groans, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

“Anything you want, gorgeous. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything in the world.”

His lust drunk rambling makes you giggle, wiggling your hips into his to hopefully hurry him up. You tug at his hair, pulling his face so it’s level with yours.

“Now, Evan. Can’t wait any longer. Please.”

“Fuck. You’re so pretty when you beg.”

He lines himself up, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you connect. He’s big and he’s stretching you out just right and you think you might have died and gone to heaven. You both groan, panting into each others mouths.

“Fuck, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

The baby sends warmth running through both your core and your heart, all the signals setting your nervous system on fire.

“Please,” you whimper, kissing him with desperation as you tangle your fingers in his curls and pull. “Please, Evan.”

“I’ve got you,” he’s mumbling, pulling his hips back and sliding them forwards with clear intent.

Reaching up beside your head, Buck pulls a pillow down and situates it under your hips, putting you where he wants you.

“Want you to feel me as deep as possible,” he murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “Won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You can only moan at the promise, praying he delivers. There’s a shiny sheen of sweat covering his sun kissed skin, making him glow in the moonlight like some sort of angel. Sent just for you.

Buck sets a steady rhythm, not too fast but just fast enough. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you ignore the pang of jealousy in your chest at the idea of him with another woman, even in the past.

Now that you’ve had a taste of this, you don’t want to let it go.

He’s pressing kisses onto whatever skin he can reach - your neck, your collarbone, underneath your ear. His hips never cease, determined to get you both to where you need to be. When he hitches one of your legs over his waist, you can’t help but drop your head back, eyes fluttering shut at the new angle.

He tilts his hips upwards, and hits a spot that has you keening. Speech has left you, and all you can do now is take it like you were made for it.

“Right there? Yeah? That’s it, isn’t it?”

You nod frantically, sucking in a shuddering breath like you’ve been under water. Your legs have started to shake, and Buck’s grinning when he thinks about how far he can push you before you’re at your limit.

“Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

You’re so close you can taste it, desperate to find this release that’s been building for the last forty eight hours. When Buck moves his hand from your hip to your throat and squeezes just slightly, you snap.

You’re coming with a breathless moan, back arching into him to plaster your fronts together.

“Shit, you look so beautiful when you come. Jesus.”

You manage a soft smile, looking up at him to see those bright eyes staring into yours. He looks entranced, as if he’s staring at a piece in an art gallery. You swipe his hair back from his sweaty forehead, teasing your thumb across his bottom lip. When he sucks it into his mouth, your jaw drops open, mind foggy with arousal.

“Think you can give me another one? Let me see you come all pretty again?” he asks around your digit, tongue laving over your skin.

“Mhmm,” you’re agreeing before you can even process it, eager to please.

“That’s my girl.”

He moves your fingers from his mouth back into his hair as his find your throat once more, applying a little pressure. His hips pick up their pace, faster and harder than before. He’s fucking you into the mattress, strong arms keeping you from sliding off the bed.

He looks breathtaking, on top of you like this. He’s so broad, towering over you like he’ll shield you from the entire world if he has to. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the whole universe, unbothered by anything or anyone else.

“Buck- I… I-”

“I know, baby. Can feel it. Atta girl.”

You pull him down to kiss you as you reach your third climax of the night, arms wrapping around his neck so every inch of you is pressed together.

“There we go, good girl. That’s it, yeah. It’s yours, baby. It’s all yours.”

Buck finally finds his release, triggered by yours. His head drops into your neck, his frantic breath tickling your skin. You murmur sweet nothings into his ear, talking him through it as he shudders and shakes. Eventually, he collapses completely onto you, body weight pinning you down.

You’re both heaving for air, lungs burning as you try to regain an ounce of composure.

He murmurs something into your shoulder, the vibrations of it rumbling through your bones.

“Hmm?”

“You called me Buck.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, silvery and melodic.

“I’ve been trying not to for two days.”

“I know. You thought you were making a point.”

“I was making a point.”

“Sure, honey. Sure.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face. “I also hate that we’ve just made Lucy and Danny the happiest people ever.”

“Oh, shit. I hate it when they’re right.”

He pulls his head from your neck to look at you, resting his cheek against your chest so he can gaze up and into your eyes.

“I’m sure we can keep this a secret for a little while.”

“Yeah… we can’t.”

You quirk your brow at him in a silent question.

“I told Danny I was gonna marry you the minute you walked into the rehearsal dinner in that red dress. Can’t hide how I feel about you, gorgeous. It’s physically impossible.”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp.

“Take me on a date first. Then we’ll talk about marriage, okay?”

“You did say forever, earlier.”

“That I did. Maybe my heart knew something my brain didn’t.”

Buck grins up at you, all blinding and giddy.

“The best man and the maid of honour, huh?”

“That old cliche,” you chuckle. “We weren’t the first, and we won’t be the last.”

“You’ll be my last, gorgeous.”

“Real smooth, Buck. Real smooth.”

“Buck,” he whispers, half in amusement, half in awe.

He could get used to this. You both could.

as always, reblogs are like gold to writers. if you enjoyed this, please reblog!! it’s invaluable <3

You immediately turned red, quickly looking away and sitting up. "Jesus Christ," you blurt out, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Buck, for god's sake, a towel please." You keep your eyes trained on the wall in front of you, refusing to look at your equally embarrassed friend.

"Oh—oh god, I didn’t know you came in!” Buck mumbles, grabbing a discarded towel from the bathroom floor and wrapping it around his waist.

Well, now you understand how he got the nickname Firehose.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long." You mutter, still refusing to look at him. The image of his bare chest is burned into your brain. What you wouldn’t give to rake your fingers over his toned muscles—

Nope. Stop. No, nope. Bad thoughts.

“I’m just uh, gonna go grab some clothes.” Buck practically scurries away, disappearing up the stairs to his bedroom. You exhale, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Finally looking away from the wall, you bury your face in your hands.

This is bad. You and Buck are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. You need to get these feelings under control, but it’s so, so hard.

Buck emerges a moment later, thankfully with underwear and sweatpants on, although his chest is still bare. You try not to stare at his toned upper body as he shuffles back over to the couch, plopping himself down next to you; leaving little to no space. You desperately try not to think about it.

"S-so, how was your date?" He asks, his voice is casual but a tinge of tension in his words.

You try not to grimace as you remember the disaster that had been your evening. “Ugh, it was terrible. He was so loud and obnoxious, it was awful.” You sigh heavily, shaking your head. “I don’t know why I keep going on these stupid dates, honestly.”

Buck shifts next to you, his shoulder brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. He’s so close, that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of his body. It’s driving you crazy.

You suddenly jerk forward, rubbing your sweaty palms on your dress as you stand, “I uh, I got us beer—to drink. Do you want one?”

Smooth, real smooth (y/n).

Buck nods, his eyes following you as you walk away, his gaze trailing down your body hungrily. He can’t help it, the sight of your curves in that tight (f/c) dress is so damn distracting. He swallows hard, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappear into the kitchen.

You open the fridge door, the cool air hitting your flushed face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You need to stop reacting this way to him, you and Buck are just friends. No matter what your stupid heart may think.

You grab a couple of beers, opening one for Buck and one for yourself. Heading back into the living room, you desperately try to get your thoughts under control.

Buck’s in the same spot as before when you come back, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch. You hand him the beer and sit back down on the couch, putting a little distance between you this time.

As you get comfortable, you take a long swig of your drink. Buck does the same, his eyes flicking over to you as he does.

The tension in the room feels thick as if you could slice through it with a knife. You take another sip of beer, glancing over at Buck. He’s still looking at you, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s making you nervous.

“What?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Hm?" Buck seems to snap out of his thoughts, blinking at you. "Oh, uh, nothing—Just thinking." He replies, looking away quickly and taking another drink of beer.

You along nod awkwardly, taking another sip of your beer as you try to ignore the way Buck’s eyes still glance at you,“Don’t strain yourself too hard.”

Buck snorts, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic comment. The corner of his lips twitch upwards, a small smirk growing on his face. But the smirk fades quickly, a flicker of something you can’t quite place flashing across his eyes.

"You’re just hilarious, y'know that?” He teases, but there’s an undertone to it that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You roll your eyes at him, though your heart skips a beat at his smirk. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you two have gotten again, the heat from his body practically seeping through his clothes onto your own skin.

“Damn right, I am.” You snark back at him, taking another drink of beer as you try to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest.

Buck lets out a soft laugh, his eyes locking on yours again. The smirk on his face fades as he takes a deep breath, seeming to come to some kind of decision. He shifts closer, his body leaning slightly into yours.

"Can I ask you something?"

You involuntarily tense up, your heart slamming in your chest. His sudden shift in demeanor can’t help but make you nervous, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Sure, yeah.” You say, trying to keep your voice even. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze with your own. “What’s up?”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his tongue darting out as he wets his lips. He’s so close to you now, his face only a few inches away from yours. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than before, barely above a whisper.

"Why do you keep going on these dates?"

His question catches you off guard, making your stomach twist into knots. You certainly hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. You can feel your heart racing, the sound of it drumming in your ears.

"I, uh, I don’t know. Does-Does it really matter?" You reply, trying to keep your voice casual. But you can feel yourself start to fidget with your fingers nervously.

Buck watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning over your face. His hand moves, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch is gentle, his fingers tracing lightly along your cheek.

"Yeah, it matters." He says, his voice soft. "It matters because all these dates are doing is making you miserable. I hate seeing you like this."

Your breath catches in your chest as his fingers lightly trail along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel your self-control slipping, your heart and mind warring with each other. You want to lean into his touch, but at the same time, you know you need to keep your distance.

"It’s fine, Buck. I promise." You manage to say, but the shakiness in your voice betrays your words.

Buck’s hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin. His eyes are still fixed on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"No, it's not." He says firmly. "You're not fine. You’re miserable. I mean, you're going on these dates like some kind of punishment, like you think you need to suffer through it for some reason."

He moves even closer to you, so close that you can just barely feel his breath fan against your skin.

His words strike a nerve in you, because you know he’s right. You’ve been using these dates to try and punish yourself, to try and ignore your feelings for Buck. Now he’s calling you out on it, and it’s making it hard for you to think straight.

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You’re so weak for him, it’s pathetic.

Buck’s hand moves from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, making you look at him. Your eyes lock with his, your heart racing at his proximity. His gaze is intense like he’s searching for something in your eyes.

"I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself." He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your jawline. "You deserve better than these idiots you keep going on dates with. You deserve someone who actually cares about you."

Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, your heart clenching at his words. You know he's right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. You try to deflect, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yeah? And who do you have in mind for me then?" You half-joke, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Buck’s thumb stops moving, his gaze steady and unwavering. His other hand moves to your hip, his fingers gripping you gently through the fabric of your dress

"Me." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widen in shock at his words, your mind reeling. You’re speechless, unable to believe what he’s saying. Is he being serious?

You take a shaky breath, trying to form a response but struggle to find the words. Buck’s hand on your hip tightens slightly, pulling you closer to him.

“You…you do?” You ask, your voice a little breathless.

Buck nods, and his grip on your hip tightens even more, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel his heart beating fast, mirroring your own. He’s so close to you that you can see the tiniest flecks of green in his blue eyes; you can’t help but feel compelled to touch his birthmark.

"Yeah.” He says firmly, his voice rough and low. “I do. I want you so bad it’s been driving me insane.”

Your mind is swirling, your body reacting to his every touch and word. You should be pushing him away, shoving him back, and telling him to snap out of it. This is a terrible idea, bound to end in disaster. You could lose your friendship, and your job if things go bad. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

"God Buck, me too.” You murmur, your hand moving to clutch at his waist, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Buck lets out a low groan at your words. Your confession is like a spark, igniting a fire within him. He leans even closer until there’s barely an inch of space left between your bodies.

"You have no idea how bad I want you.” He says, his voice practically growling. “I want to kiss every inch of you, make you forget your own name.”

“Then do it.” You whisper, your voice is a little shaky but so filled with desire it’s undeniable. You want this, you want him.

You. Need. Buck.

Buck doesn’t hesitate, his lips crashing down against yours in a heated kiss. His hand in your hair tightens, angling your head back to give him better access to your mouth. His other hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

The kiss is intense, desperate, like he’s trying to devour you whole.

You let out a muffled moan, your hand moving to grasp his neck; clinging to him like a lifeline. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, every inch of you burning with need and desire for him. You can’t get enough, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, your own tongue meeting his in a frenzied dance. You can feel yourself falling apart, losing yourself in the intensity of his touch, of his kiss.

Buck’s hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he lifts you up, easily settling you on his lap so youre straddling him. You move your hips, grinding yourself down onto him, his body reacting involuntarily to the pressure. You can feel his hardness press against your core, it sends a throb of need throughout your entire body.

Gasping, Buck breaks the kiss before moving his lips to your neck; his mouth hot and demanding against your skin.

“You…drive me…crazy.” He mutters between kisses, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Hishands slide under the lacy hem of your dress, his fingers burning hot against your skin as they trace patterns along your sides. You arch into his touch.

“You’re all I can think about. Every day.” He continues, his voice gravelly with lust. “God, even when we’re at work.”

You let out a gasp as his tongue swirls over your skin, your fingers tangling in his curly, blonde hair. His words make your heart pound even faster.

You press yourself against Buck, your hips rolling involuntarily against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. You can feel him growing harder underneath you, only making you ache for more.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve had to go to the bathroom to get myself under control,” Buck admits, his voice rumbles against your skin. He moves his hands lower, cupping your ass and grinding you down onto him. His mouth moves lower, his teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone, his thumb moving over your hip bone, tracing the outline of your underwear.

You let out a soft moan, your head falling back as he works his mouth down your neck and across your chest. His touch is like gasoline on an already out-of-control fire, and you can feel yourself losing more and more control.

“Buck…” You breathe out, his name a plea and a prayer all in one.

Buck moans at the sound, his hands moving to your hips again, holding you still against him. His mouth moves back up to your neck, his teeth and lips roaming over your skin.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you so long.” He mutters, his voice rough and strained. “You keep coming to me after those stupid dates, all dressed up in these pretty dresses. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”

The mental image of him watching you from across the station, seeing you all dolled up for these dates and not being able to do anything about it, watching as you leave with another man, it makes your stomach clench. You wonder how many times he's sat there, fighting the urge to pull you into his lap, to kiss you senselessly and show everyone that you’re his.

You let out a pathetic whine, the thought making you throb with need.

Buck leans back slightly, his eyes raking over your disheveled form. You’re panting heavily, your (e/c) eyes dark with desire, lips swollen from his kisses. You’re a mess, and it makes him feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s the one who’s made you this way.

“God, look at you.” He murmurs, his hands pushing up your dress, his fingers tracing over your bare thighs. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You shiver as his hands move higher, brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You can feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, your underwear getting more and more damp at his touch. You want him, you need him so badly that it’s starting to become painful.

“Buck please,” You pant out, your voice pleading. “I need you…I need you so bad.”

Buck’s breath hitches at your words, his grip on your thighs faltering momentarily. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the need written all over your face.

“You’ve got me.” He says, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve always had me…just didn’t know it.”

Your heart clenches at his words, your mind warring with your body. Everything about this is a bad idea, you’re playing with fire here. But at this moment, with his hands on you, his body under yours, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Prove it. Show me I’m yours, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes flash at your challenge, a wolfish smile spreading across his face. He moves without warning, standing up and easily lifting you with him. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, and your arms cling to his shoulders. Spinning around, he starts the ascent to his loft bedroom.

You cling to him as he moves through the apartment, his hands holding you tightly, supporting your weight without any effort. You bury your face in his neck, leaving teasing kisses along his skin, your tongue and teeth nipping at his pulse point. You can feel every muscle in his body as he moves, your hands roaming across his back and shoulders, your fingernails scraping gently over his skin.

As you reach the top of the stairs, he walks you over to the edge of the bed and sets you down on the soft comforter.

“(y/n)…” He mutters, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you. Your hair is tangled and messy, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily, your dress pooled up around your thighs, exposing your (s/c) skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

You smirk up at him, a feeling of power rushing through you at the way he’s looking at you. You lay back slowly, arching your back and letting the skirt of your dress ride up higher. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Pretty good way to go though, huh?” You tease lightly.

You don’t know how, but Buck’s eyes darken even more, the sight of you on his bed—practically inviting him to take you—pushes him over the edge.

“You’re such a tease.” He mutters, moving closer to you as his hands go to the waistband of his sweats.

You let out a small gasp as he starts to lower his sweatpants, the sight of him in nothing but low-hanging boxer briefs makes your mouth water. You can see the desire and hunger in his eyes, the fact that he wants you so badly sending a thrill of pleasure through you.

“Only for you, Buckley.”

Buck moves onto the bed, caging you in with his body, his hands on either side of your head.

“Better be.” He grins, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw to your ear. His teeth nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.

He moves lower, his lips finding your neck again, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark you know you’ll struggle to hide the next day.

You can feel your hands starting to shake as the ache between your legs grows and your mind gets fuzzy. You arch up into him, your body seeking more of his touch, more of his attention.

“Buck—need you to touch me.” You pant, your voice needy and desperate

Buck groans at your words, his hands sliding lower down your body, gliding over your stomach and then lower until they’re at the edge of your dress.

“Lift your hips.” He instructs, his voice commanding, leaving no room for argument. You instantly comply, lifting your hips off the bed, allowing him to slide your dress higher up your body.

With a quick tug, Buck pulls the dress up over your body and tosses it to the side. He takes a moment to admire you, trailing his eyes over every inch of you.

You’re laying there in just your (f/c) bra and panties, your legs slightly parted, your chest rising and falling quickly as you breathe through the need coursing through your body.

He leans back down over you, his hands and mouth immediately going to work. His mouth trails wet kisses down your torso and across your stomach, his fingers tracing lightly over your skin. You can’t help but whimper as he moves, your body responding to every touch, every graze of his lips against your skin.

His moves lower, just barely brushing the edge of your panties. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body arches into his touch.

You feel Buck’s smile against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you still. He loves seeing you like this, lost in pleasure and need, your body responding to his every move. He moves his mouth lower, his tongue tracing over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

“B-Buck!” Your voice cracks

“You’re so damn sensitive,” Buck mutters, his fingers slowly tugging at the edge of your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them off to the side.

You clasp a hand over your mouth as you hold back a whine as you feel his hot breath fan against your soaked center.

Buck gently nips at the inside of your thigh, leaving small marks on your sensitive skin. He moves one of his hands to rest on your knee, keeping you spread open.

“It’s okay, (y/n).” Buck says, his voice full of desire. “Let me hear you, let me hear what I do to you.”

Before you can respond, his mouth is pressed against your soaking folds.

You let out a high-pitched moan, your hands automatically digging into his scalp, your fingers gripping his curly blonde locks. His tongue is skilled, his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“F-fuckin’ dick!” You manage to gasp out, your words quickly turning into broken moans and gasps as he continues his assault

Buck doesn’t stop, his tongue working you over, his lips and teeth nipping and sucking at you in all the right places. He loves the way you taste, and the sound of your moans. But he’s greedy, and he wants more.

He slides his hand from your knee to your core, one of his calloused fingers gently teasing at your entrance.

Your body is buzzing with pleasure and your mind is fogged with need. The feeling of his finger at your entrance, teasing and tantalizing is almost too much.

“O-Oh god, Buck…please…don’t stop!” You desperately gasp out, feeling the coil inside you building.

Buck groans against you, sending vibrations straight to your core, “You’re so damn wet.”

“All for you—Fuck!”

Buck practically groans with need at your words. He gently pushes one of his fingers into you, the slide easy due to your arousal. You throw your head back from the pleasure.

“You’re like heaven, baby.” Buck mumbles, his voice filled with awe as his finger continues to move, gently stretching you in preparation for more. “Like an angel…My pretty, perfect angel.”

You can’t respond, your words are caught in your throat, replaced by gasps and moans as Buck continues to work you. He adds another finger, scissoring them gently, the sensation making your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Buck commands, “Open your eyes, (y/n). Let me see you.”

With a great amount of effort, you force your eyes open, to meet his gaze. The sight before you is one that’ll be engraved into your memory forever.

Buck’s hair is a mess from your fingers running through it, his cheeks flushed, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal, eyes dark with lust and possessiveness that makes your skin flush with goosebumps. He looks wild, untamed, and yet he’s completely focused on you, on giving you pleasure.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He whispers, his fingers curving slightly, the way that makes you see stars. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you forget your own name, how about that?”

“Yes, please!” You gasp, your words coming out needy and desperate. “Please, Buck, please. I need you-need you so bad.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulls his fingers from you, your walls fluttering around nothing. He doesn’t leave you waiting for long, shifting to kneel on the bed, his hands go to the edge of his underwear.

You watch, breathless and eager, as he slowly pushes down his boxer briefs, freeing his aching cock. The tip is red and dripping; you swear that you feel your mouth water.

“You see what you do to me? See what you caused?” Buck’s voice is rough, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

You run your eyes up and down his body, taking in the sight in front of you, the way his body is practically trembling, desperate for you. You lick your lips, your thoughts swarming with things that would make a sailor blush with shame.

“Please, Buck.”

He looks down at you, his eyes raking over your body, as he takes in the sight. You sound so needy, so desperate. He leans over you, his hands on either side of your head.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice a low, teasing whisper.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck. Me.”

Buck lets a curse slip from his lips as he captures yours in a hungry, rough kiss. One hand grasps your hip, while the other hand drifts to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lines himself up at your entrance. Breaking the kiss, he lets his forehead rest against yours.

His eyes lock with yours, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, your hands running down his arms.

“Do it, Buck.” You say, your voice is desperate and whiny. “Please.”

Buck lets out a low moan at your voice, his body trembling from the effort of holding himself back. He can’t take it anymore, he needs you, needs to feel you around him, needs to taste you.

He slowly pushes into you, going as slowly as he can manage, relishing in the way your walls flutter against his member.

You let out a gasp, your hands tightening around his wrists, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel him fill you, stretch you in the best way possible. There’s a slight burn, but you welcome it as you shakily exhale.

“A-Ah...” Buck moans, his voice strained as his hands grip you tighter, burying himself fully inside you. His head drops to rest in the crease of your neck. “You feel… you feel so good—god, so warm.”

You let out a moan as he bottoms out, your mind lost in the pleasure of him filling you so perfectly. You want to tell him how good it feels, but words are lost amongst the fog in your mind.

Buck presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips feeling like fire against your skin. His hand leaves your hip and moves to grip yours, his fingers carefully intertwining with yours. Using his other hand he gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him

“Look at me, baby.” He mutters against your skin, “I wanna see your face. I wanna see how good I make you feel. Can you do that for me?”

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart swell; his eyes are filled with such adoration, such love.

Buck lets out a pleased noise, “That’s it, so good for me. Look so pretty when you’re like this…all flushed and trembling, just from my touch.”

He gives a shallow, experimental thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as an electric feeling shoots through your body.

He moans against your skin, the sound making the hairs on your neck stand up. He moves again, this time pulling out slightly before slowly pushing back into you. You gasp again, your hands grab at his shoulder; your nails breaking the skin.

He sets up a steady pace, pulling out and then pushing back in with slow, steady movements.

Each moan and gasp, each twitch of your brow or hitch in your breath, he takes it in, and stores it away. He shifts his hips slightly, changing the angle, and a guttural, desperate moan tumbles from your lips.

Buck lets out a taunting chuckle, “Did I find a sensitive spot, baby?” He asks, his voice teasing and gruff against your ear.

You can’t find it in you to respond, completely blissed out from the pleasure Buck is giving you. Your words catch in your throat, replaced by a series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’ as he continuously slams into you.

His pace quickens as his breath comes out in short pants, his hand gripping yours just a little bit tighter.

“F-Fuck…Who do you want?”

“You. Only you, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes close for a moment, a shudder raking through his body at your words. He lets out another moan, his head falling forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder as he untangles his hand from yours. Hastily he brings it down, harshly rubbing it against your sensitive bud.

The sudden change in stimuli makes your eyes roll back, the pleasure and heat reaching a breaking point.

“B-Buck, I’m not gonna—”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whines, his own voice wavering. “I want to feel you cum around me. C’mon, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his voice, the sensation of his hands on you against you—your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your entire body tenses, a broken moan falling from your lips as your back arches against Buck’s sweaty figure.

Buck groans as he feels you cum, your walls clenching around him tightly. His hips stutter, losing their steady rhythm as he pulls out and starts pumping himself over your stomach.

“Ngh—shit!” Buck gasps suddenly as he feels your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, taking over for him.

“(y-y/n), you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You look up at him with a small, exhausted smile on your lips as you continue to leisurely pump him at your own pace.

Buck lets out a high-pitched whine, his hands gripping onto you tighter, “M-mm’ so close.”

“Then come for me, Evan.”

Buck lets out a desperate noise, the sound of his real name falling from your lips being his final breaking point.

“(y-y/n)—”

You keep stroking him through his orgasm, watching as his body shivers from the overstimulation. Slowly, Buck’s flushed face lifts from your shoulder, his breaths leaving his lips in heavy pants, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. His blue eyes meet your gaze, they’re hazy and unfocused.

“God, I love you.” He mutters, his voice a little hoarse, but still filled with an amount of tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

You bring your clean hand up to his face, running it through his messy, tangled hair, your fingernails gently massaging his scalp “I love you too.”

Buck lets out a content hum, pressing a few soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose—Anywhere he can reach without having to pull his body away from you.

You laugh softly at his affection, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling, a smile resting on your lips. You feel…at ease.

Happy.

Safe.

Buck slowly pulls away, just enough to move off your body and lay next to you. He instantly pulls you against his chest, one arm around your shoulders, cradling you against him. He sighs contentedly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

You rest your head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear grounding and soothing. Your eyes slowly close, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. You snuggle closer to Buck, a soft yawn escaping your lips.

Buck chuckles as he hears you yawn. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You give a tiny hum, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand on your back making your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Sleep starts to overtake you, but not before you mutter out one final sentence.

“I love you, Buck.”

Buck’s heart warms at your words. He pulls you even closer to him, relishing the feeling of having you this close. He presses a kiss to the top of your head again, his voice soft and gentle as he speaks.