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redocity · 8 months ago

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Checked the guidelines!

Would it be okay to request buck making you squirt for the first time? And it shocks both of you and he's hell bent to get you to do it again?

FIREHOSE — E.BUCKLEY

buck’s not the only firehose.

evan buckley x fem!reader | smut | 1.4k | masterlist.

WARNINGS | this post is 18+, MDNI. possible established relationship?? (or one night stand you choose ig) munch!buck, oral (fem!receiving), reader comes everywhere and rivals bucks title as firehose

It should probably be shameful, the way you’re practically running after Buck, stumbling into his apartment building with him all over you, his arm holding you against him. But you can’t seem to find it within yourself to care, not now, not while he’s kissing you.

He fumbles a little with his keys as he tries to unlock the door.

“God. You’re killing me,” he murmurs against your lips.

Finally, finally the door is unlocked and Buck pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. You manage to stumble up to the bedroom together, still very much preoccupied with kissing. You wind up falling onto the bed, Buck climbing over you and pinning you beneath him.

He pulls away for the briefest moment to yank off his shirt.

He leans back down, capturing your lips with his own. His hands are already moving, pulling on your shirt, helping you out of it, kissing you deeply.

“Just lemme make you feel good,” he mumbles against your skin.

One of his hands trails up your thigh, fingertips brushing over your skin to grasp at the hem of your pants. His mouth everywhere, kissing, licking and sucking on any sliver of exposed skin he can find.

He’s quick with the button and zipper, pushing your pants down as he continues to suck on your neck. The hand still holding onto your thigh is sliding up, his fingertips dancing over your skin.

Buck murmurs your name in between kisses, rushing to tug off your pants. Once they’re out of the way, he kisses a line from your neck down your chest, still murmuring nonsense, still touching you reverently. He worships you.

He continues his path, kissing down the plane of your stomach and over your hips. It takes him a minute to hook his fingers into your underwear, tugging them down your thighs and over your knees. He pauses his kisses, looking up at you for a moment with a mischievous smile.

It’s enough for the whispers of a whine to echo out of your throat.

His fingers trail back up your hips but go between your thighs, his expression becoming more thoughtful. He leans down and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“I wanna make you feel so damn good,” he murmurs.

And that is all the warning you get before he does.

He licks his tongue up your cunt, humming in satisfaction at the way you gasp. He begins with slow strokes, just teasing for the time being. He’s gentle but deliberate, taking his time.

He wants you writhing, he wants you begging. He wants you out of your mind with need.

And you have no choice but to give in. Your hands tangle in his hair, your fingers tightening around the curly blond strands. Soft sounds of pleasure slip from between your lips and Buck is just eating it up.

He laps his tongue up against your core again, his mouth curling into a smirk as he presses a deft kiss against your clit.

He knows what he’s doing to you, the power he has over you right now.

He wants to make the moment last, so he slows down. Just a little. He wants to drive you insane.

“Buck,” you murmur, a slight whine to your voice.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs back into your skin, his tongue moving in lazy patterns over your core. “What do you want?”

You can feel him smile against your skin after asking the question, knowing damn well what you want. But he’s still holding back. He wants to make you say it.

It takes you a moment to find words among the haze in your brain.

“More,” you finally manage to gasp out, tugging on his hair.

Your answer brings a quiet chuckle from him. “More of this?”

He runs his tongue through your slit again, slower now, and pulls back a small amount.

He knows what you mean, but he really wants you to say it. He wants to hear it from those pretty lips of yours.

“Yeah—” You breathe out. “Like that—”

“Mhm?” he continues, teasing another stroke of his tongue against you. “Like that?”

He likes hearing you moan. He enjoys seeing you lose it, your fingers tightening in his hair, the way your back arches.

He wants more of you.

He presses his face closer, his tongue more insistent, and he groans softly at the way you roll up against him now. His grip on your thighs tightens and he can barely take it anymore, the sounds you’re making and the soft touches of your fingers in his hair.

He groans again and you hear him swear, the sound muffled due to his face being, well, suffocated between your thighs. He wants more and he can’t hold back long enough to make himself wait.

His mouth is back to working in earnest now, licking and sucking and doing everything in his power to drive you over the edge.

He’s greedy when it comes to you. He wants you writhing, he wants you begging and gasping for release. He wants you to come on his tongue, wants to taste you, wants to feel you shudder underneath him.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

He can tell you’re close, just from being this close, just from listening to the way you breathe, feeling your thighs tightening around his head. He licks his tongue up against you a little harder and you can feel him smile with satisfaction.

“Go on, baby. Come for me,”

He murmurs again, lips suckling against your clit with reverence, and at his words, you’re thrown off that edge.

Your hands tighten in his hair as your back arches and a low moan is ripped out of you.

Your release hits you like a tidal wave, quite literally in the way that it splashes all over Buck’s face and the sheets underneath you.

“Oh my god—” Your face is completely wide in shock, brain still foggy as you try to regulate your breathing.

He just pulls back, looking immensely pleased with himself. He’s more than messy, your release dripping from his curls and into his eyelashes, glistening around his mouth, and even trailing down the front of his torso, following the line of his abs.

But he looked so proud of himself.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, swiping a hand over his face. “And they called me firehose,”

“I am so sorry—”

“What the hell are you sorry for?” he chuckles, grabbing his discarded t-shirt to use it as a face rag, a smirk on his lips.

“That was hot,” he says with a low grumble.

He climbs back up your body to lay over you, his arms on either side of your head.

He’s so close, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He hums as the kiss turns into a lazy make-out. He could do this for hours, just lay here with you, his tongue in your mouth and his body pinning you to the bed.

But he can’t.

He kisses you deeply one last time before pulling back.

“Let’s do it again,” he mutters before his mouth is on the side of your neck, just holding you a little closer.

You blink. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmurs, slowly kissing down to your shoulder.

“I wanna make you come like that again,” he continues, rolling his hips against yours, and you can feel him hard against you. “Maybe around my cock this time, yeah?”

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #oliver stark #evan buckley smut

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vibraniumavenger · 1 year ago

Text

Collision

TW/CW: Car accident, injuries.

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Diaz!Reader

You smiled to yourself as you walked beside Christopher, your nephew. You had watched him in the morning while your brother was working, and Carla was attending an appointment. You didn’t mind though, you absolutely adored him, and he enjoyed spending time with you.

You had an hour to kill before dropping him off to Carla, and heading off to work yourself, so you decided to swing by the station to have lunch with the team. It was quiet when you arrived, indicating the team were on a call. You took it upon yourself to make lunch for everybody, knowing it would be a relief to them when they got back. Chris was sat at the table on his tablet, in a world of his own, allowing you to focus on the food. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the sound of the shutters opening filled the station followed by heavy boots thudding against the floor as each firefighter jumped out of the truck. The footsteps got closer, the faint smell of smoke mixed with a familiar aftershave filled your nostrils and you instinctively lean back into the body that is now behind you as arms snake around your waist. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”

You turn towards the voice, and smile, “Apparently, I can’t seem to stay away.” You lean up to kiss Buck, causing Chris to pull a disgusted face. This seemed to amuse Buck, and he kissed you again. Eddie appeared in the kitchen, and made his way over to his son, visibly happy to see him. “Come on guys, get a room.” You rolled your eyes playfully at your brothers comment, and pulled away from Buck.

You dished up the food for the team and took a seat, eager to hear about the call they had just been on. You listened intently as you ate, your complete focus on Buck as he spoke passionately about the call. Your heart warmed as you watched his face light up, he loved how much you genuinely enjoyed hearing about the calls, and how his day had gone. Chimney was the next to speak up, “It was a good call, except the part where Buck was playing hero and nearly got himself killed.” Bucks eyes widened and he turned to look at Chimney, giving him a look that immediately stopped him talking. Chimney, trying to help, began speaking again, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t any more dangerous than a simple call, the risk is always there. Besides, it was probably one of the safer times Buck tried to save the day, you should’ve seen him on the call last week.”

“Chim, stop talking.” Buck, who was now visibly on the spot, turned to face you. He studied your face, working out how to approach this. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you beat him to it, “I thought we spoke about this…” Buck knew you understood that no day was guaranteed, and that saving people on calls was something he would always try to do, even if it put him at risk. He also knew that he had a habit of jumping the gun and putting himself in dangerous situations without thinking it through. “I’m sorry…”

You checked your watch, and stood up. “I just wish you’d be more careful, Buck.” Chris stood up and hugged Eddie goodbye, and you did the same. “Later bro.” You said goodbye to the team and walked back to the car with Chris by your side. The breeze hit you, and you took a deep breath. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe not but you just needed a moment. You helped Chris into the car and got in yourself, turning on the radio. The short ride to Carlas mostly consisted of Chris laughing as you sang along to the music, and the occasional conversation when Chris wasn’t overly engrossed in his phone. Carla was there to greet you when you pulled up on her drive, Chris was extremely excited and practically jumped out of the car to hug her. Carla gave you a hug, “Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” You smiled and hugged back, “It’s been a while, huh? Life has been hectic.” Carla laughs at this, “You’re telling me, your brother told me all about you and Buck. Moving in together? That’s a big step!”

“We were practically living together anyway, and if I’m being honest, Eddie is probably just relieved to have his couch back. I was starting to get on his nerves.” You explained to Carla, and she chuckled. “Well, I wish you all the best. I’m gonna get Chris inside, and I’ll let you run off to work. It was lovely seeing you.” You hug Chris goodbye and bid farewell to Carla before getting into your car and beginning your journey to your place of work. In front of you, the amber light turned to red and you stopped. You could see that traffic was beginning to build up on the other side of the junction, and you didn’t want to be late. You sighed, and made the decision to take an alternate route, so when the light turned green, you indicated and pulled out to begin taking your turning. You let out a sudden gasp before you could even properly register the car coming towards you. All you could do was attempt to brace for the impact, and so you did.

A loud crunching sound surrounded you, followed by the feeling of being thrown as your car was barrelled into. You closed your eyes tightly, scared of what was next. You didn’t have the courage to open them again until the car steadied. The first thing you could see was the airbag in front of you, despite not feeling it deploy moments before. You could smell the burning of the tyres, outside of the car, you could hear the panicked voices of bystanders, but all you could focus on was the blood that was now spread across your arms, unsure of where it was actually coming from. You weren’t in pain, at least you couldn’t feel any in that moment. Is that what shock feels like? You couldn’t think, but your eyes got heavy and you fought your hardest not to succumb to the darkness.

Back at the station, the call was only just coming in. The alarm blared throughout the station, alerting the team to the call. They were quick to jump into action, grabbing their gear and piling themselves into their assigned trucks. Eddie and Buck sat beside each other, speaking casually between themselves about what had happened earlier. “Just give her some time, she’ll come around. For her, two of the people she loves most are at risk everyday, you’ve gotta imagine it can’t be easy. It’s a risky job as it is, and when you put yourself into riskier situations without needing to, it decreases the chance of making it home at the end. She’s scared. Just talk to her.” Eddie attempted to reassure Buck, who was feeling terrible. He couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind, the face that showed disappointment in his actions. Before Buck could respond, the truck halted and the team jumped out, ready to give help where needed. Buck stopped in his tracks as an all too familiar car was crushed before him. He tried not to panic, hoping that his suspicions were wrong. His eyes flicked to the number plate and his heart stopped. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up. He shouted your name, drawing Eddies attention. It took Eddie a few seconds to process what was happening. You had not long left the station, it couldn’t possibly be you. Right?

Buck arrived to your car first, nausea washed over him as he caught sight of your injured body. “Y/N? Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” You weren’t completely aware of what was happening, your eyes opened with a struggle. Your movements were weak as you turned your head to look at him. “Buck?” You spoke quietly, not completely aware of the situation at hand. “Don’t move, try and keep still.” He tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn’t want to scare you any more, he was terrified himself. Eddie ran right over to the car, his heart racing as he feared what he would find. His first instinct was to check the back seat, relief finally washing over him as he saw no sign of Christopher. Still, he needed to make sure, “Y/N, was Chris in the car?”

You shook your head, “Carlas.” Eddie felt a weight off his shoulders, knowing his son was safe. The weight soon came back when he saw the condition you were in. Your eyes rolled back, and you fell into unconsciousness. Bobby was running the scene, assigning Hen and Chim to medically assist you, and he grabbed the gear to support Buck and Eddie in freeing you from the car. Buck didn’t want to let go of your hand, but he knew he had to in order to get you out sooner. The team worked tirelessly, ensuring to be as careful as possible. Bobby handed the halligan to Buck, “Buck, you focus on getting the doors open. Diaz, grab the saw and be on standby.”

Buck groaned as he tried to pry the doors open, with no results, “Roofs too dented Cap, I can’t get it open.” Bobby nodded, and turned to Eddie, “Saws it is. Get in there Diaz, Buck, you too.” The roof was off in no time, Hen and Chim jumped straight in and equipped you with a neck brace, and got the back board in place to move you. Hen checked your vitals quickly, trying to make sure you were steady enough to be moved. “I’ve got a faint pulse, we gotta move.” They moved you out of you car quickly, and transferred you to the ambulance. “Trauma to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding. I’ll let the hospital know we’re en route.” Buck jumps into the back of the ambulance with Chimney, and instantly takes your hand in his. Hen places herself into the drivers seat, putting the ambulance into 911 mode and begins the journey as fast as she can to the nearest hospital.

Buck hated seeing you like this. He was filled with anxiety, the nausea constantly there as he studied your visible injuries. His heart sank with every second that went by, the more he thought about you laying there almost lifeless, expecting you to flatline any second now. “I’m sorry baby, we can’t leave things like this. I need you to get through this so I can apologise to you. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, and I also know that I’m the biggest pain in the ass, but I love you, and I need you. Please.” Buck sobbed as he held your hand tighter. Time seemed to be going extremely slow for Buck, yet moments later Hen was pulling up at the hospital. You were rushed in, Hen spewed all your information to the nurses as you were wheeled in and handed over. Buck, Hen and Chimney stood there as you were wheeled out of sight. One of the nurses stopped Buck from running after you, and he sat defeated in the waiting room. The rest of the team arrived soon after, Eddies face was similar to Bucks. Eddie spoke first, “Any update?” The lack of response from Buck had him on edge, fearing the worst. Luckily, Chimney filled the silence. “There’s no update, but no news it almost always good news.”

Eddie placed his hand on Bucks shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before sitting down next to him. “How’re you holding up?” Buck didn’t look up, instead he kept his head in his hands. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t trust his voice not to give out. His leg bounced anxiously, and despite not talking, his feelings were painfully obvious. Eddie could empathise, he knew exactly what was going through Bucks mind. It was happening to him too, but he concealed it as much as he could, knowing Buck needed him. “You know, each time we’re sat in these chairs, it never gets easier. You don’t have to talk, I get it. I think you should know that I’m right here for you, I understand. Y/N is going to be okay, that I have no doubt about. She’s my sister, and us Diaz’s, we don’t back down. We fight.” Eddie continues talking, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Buck or himself.

A few hours go by, and the team are waiting as patiently as they can for an update. Maddie had arrived some time ago, and was sat with Buck. She was not only there to support her brother, but also her brothers girlfriend, who Maddie had claimed as her best friend shortly after meeting her. Bobby hands a coffee to Buck and Eddie, who hadn’t moved from their seats since arriving. This changed moments later as a nurse approached, making them stand. Buck felt as if his legs were going to give way any second. The nurse cleared her throat, “She’s stable. She’s incredibly lucky to have made it out with the injuries she did, it could’ve been a lot worse. She’s awake, if you’d like to go see her.”

Buck didn’t stick around to hear whatever else the nurse had to say, he darted through the corridor until he got to your room. He stopped to take a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was scared to look at you, all he could picture was you covered in blood still. His head shot up as he heard a voice, your voice to be exact, “Buck?”

He was by your bedside in a blink of an eye, taking your hand in his. His eyes wandered over your body, taking in each of your injuries. His heart broke a little more with each one. He finally looked you in the eyes, and that’s when it hit him. His eyes filled up with tears, “Y/N…”

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, see. I’m right here.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. Buck took a seat close to your bed, your hand in his and against his lips. You move your hand up to his cheek and wipe his tears, Buck practically melted into your touch. “I really thought I had lost you.”

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I need to apologise for my reaction earlier, that could’ve been our last conversation earlier and left without saying goodbye, or telling you how much I love you.”

Buck shook his head, “You have nothing to apologise for, I’m the one that owes you an apology. I’m sorry that I’m not more careful when I’m out on a call, I shouldn’t be that reckless. I’m sorry that I can’t promise to walk through that door every night, safe and unscathed. I can appreciate how you feel now, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to be more careful. I love you, and I don’t want you ever feeling anything close to what I’ve felt today.” You wince as you sit up, making Buck panic. You push through the pain, and pull Buck to you. “Come here.” He stands from his chair and leans down to kiss you quickly. He carefully moves your hair from your face, ensuring he doesn’t touch any of your cuts or bruises.

“I love you too, and even though I’m petrified that you won’t make it home one day, I trust that you’ll try everything in your power to make sure you do. I’m proud of you, Evan.” As you spoke, Buck smiled to himself. A sense of relief washed over him. Before he could respond, you continued. “So… does this mean I can finally get a new car now?”

Buck chuckled, “You’re a pain in the ass, Diaz.”

“Takes one to know one, Buck.”

A/N: So, I think I rewrote this like 10 times. Its been a while since I've done any writing, so please bare with me while I figure out my writing style again. Any criticism is welcome, I appreciate the feedback.

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aliesbienish · 9 months ago

Text

The idea was good, the execution not so much

Established Buddie x Reader, ft our fave Diaz Chris. You and Chris plan a surprise for the boys, it doesn't quite go to plan.

The house was quiet when Eddie and Buck arrived home from a 24 hour shift. Usually when they finished at a reasonable hour they came home to hustle and bustle. You and Chris generally had music playing as you cooked up a storm throughout the kitchen.

Instead it was almost eerie silent in their house, in fact if it wasn’t for your car parked in the driveway they’d assume no one was home.

Buck shrugged at Eddie as they made the way down the hallway, peering in doors as they passed. It wasn't till they opened the door to the living room that they found any signs of life. Twinkling fairy lights were hung across the walls, basking the room in a light golden glow. Soft instrumental music was playing gently from the speaker and the table was set for four.

"What's going on?" Eddie whispered to his partner, Buck for his part looking just as bewildered. "Where are they?"

Buck shook his head in confusion, making his way into the living room. He spotted you and Chris pretty quickly, both sunk into the sofa fast asleep. Eddie followed him over and both men couldn't help the grin when they saw their partner and son, clearly accidentally napping while waiting for the boys to come home.

"Hi mijo," Eddie whispered, gently pulling Chris from your embrace and into his arms. "Dad! Bucky! You're home," He whispered wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Mom and I were supposed to surprise you, we didn't mean to fall asleep,"

"We can see that superman." Buck whispered, "What's the big surprise?"

"Ay dios mio," Eddie suddenly exclaimed, staring down at Chris in shock.

"What Eds?" Buck questioned.

"Look at Chris' shirt Ev,"

Chris grinned stretching out so Buck could read it properly. There sprawled across his tiny chest were the words 'BEST BIG BROTHER'.

"Oh my god," Buck gasped, mouth opening and closing but no other words coming out.

"Surprise," You whispered nervously, having woken up from your nap to Eddie's shout of shock. Both boys whipped around to face you, as you grinned sheepishly.

"Baby, is this true? It's not a prank right?" Buck whispered, placing his hand across your stomach like he already expected a big bump to be there.

"It is, I found out yesterday. Chris and I had a big plan to tell you both, there's even a bun sitting in the oven," When Evan got a look of concern on his face you followed up with "the oven is turned off, I promise."

"You're sure? About being pregnant I mean."

"Positive, literally." Handing over multiple tests to each of the boys, all with the same result. "Chris was actually the one who mentioned it, I may be slightly bias but I think our son is a genius,"

"So Amy from school, her Mom is pregnant too and she was talking about how she is feeling sick and getting tired more often." Chris chattered happily, "So then when Mom was like that the last week I thought that maybe she was."

"That's great superman," Buck said absentmindedly.

You couldn't help but notice that Eddie hadn't even spoken yet, and Buck's tone was making you worried. While you had discussed expanding your family before, it was always talked about in the vague future and the idea that maybe they weren't ready was chewing you up.

"Hey Chris honey, I think you should get the card we made for your dads! I think it's sitting in your bedroom." He excitedly agreed, giving you a short time to talk to your partners.

"I know this is a shock, but is this okay? It's sudden but I love you both soo much and.."

"Baby," Buck interrupted, wrapping you in his arms. "this is the greatest gift you could ever give me. I can't wait to have another child with you two, honestly I can't wait to see Chris as a big brother." You sighed in relief knowing at least one of your partners was on board.

"Eds?" Buck whispered while directing the other mans head up gently with his hand and gently placing a kiss on his forehead. You both noticed the tears in his eyes as he struggled for words.

"I am so so grateful to you [y/n], for allowing me the opportunity to get to be a dad to another child again. I love you more than words can express." Tears of happiness began to fall down your cheeks as he pressed a soft peck to your lips and place his hand gently on your belly.

"And Buck, I can't wait to watch you be a Dad to this baby. You are an amazing parent to Chris but I am honored to be a dad with you again to this baby, to get to watch you Buck, and you too [y/n], get to experience every little moment together. Between us and Chris this baby is going to be so loved and cherished,"

Buck and Eddie wrapped you between them in a hug, whispering words of excitement and joy. You only parted when Chris came back in the room, a grin on his face as he thrust the card towards Eddie and Buck.

"Here" he grinned, passing over the card with the front reading '10 reasons why going to the zoo will help me be a better big brother!'

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1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt · 18 days ago

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒; 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘

summary: buck and nash!reader have been dating in secret for awhile, secret as in the only one who's yet to find out is readers dad, bobby. that is until he accidentally finds out and isn't exactly pleased...

word count: 3.3k

warnings: nash!reader, fem!reader, angst, fluff, hidden relationship, Eddie being FED up, a little buddie x reader if you REALLY and i mean REALLY squint, buck being both an idiot and a little douchey, slight implied plus size reader but not really, shit ending but i hate writing this long of a fic so don't be mad (yes i consider this long)

notes: i need this man so bad grrr

masterlist

divider credit: @cursed-carmine

It started after a particularly rough shift, both finding comfort in one another. What started as one night of finding relief soon became something more. Sex became an outlet and eventually a relationship blossomed.

Somehow you both managed to keep it a secret, it was hard sure but everyone was so wrapped up in their own problems that no one had caught on. It stayed that way for a while at least.

The agreement to keep the relationship hidden had been mutual, at least for the most part. The longer it stayed a secret the harder it was to tell anyone. Both of you were scared of your fathers reaction, Buck being like a son to Bobby was afraid he was crossing a line. The relationship Evan and Bobby had developed was one your boyfriend (and father alike) cherished dearly, and Evan didn’t want anything to come between it.

If your relationship with Buck was to come to an end, you didn't want anyone to be caught in the middle, whether that be Buck or your dad. Dynamics at the station would shift and no one deserves to have to choose sides.

Regardless of everything the guilt was eating you up inside, still you didn’t say anything, didn’t say how maybe it would be a good idea for your relationship to come out as Buck begged Eddie to keep his mouth shut. It started with Eddie and soon enough the only one who was none the wiser was Cap.

You’d both heard a thousand times from your coworkers and friends that you should just tell him, he would find out soon enough anyway. “Come on, you’re going to have to tell Cap sooner or later, why not do it sooner?”, Eddie questions as he places the bowl of salad on the dining table.

Buck gives somewhat of an exasperated sigh, “It’s not that simple.” He sets the cutlery down on the table, his back turned to you so he can’t see the conflicted expression on your face once again.

“Why? Why isn't it that simple? What good do you think it’s doing to wait?” Goddamn Eddie for being sensible. A sensibleness Buck-, no, both of you seemed to be lacking.

Bucks hands clench, “It’s not about doing good, it's about preventing the bad. Once we tell him there's no undoing it. Think of the fallout if it blows up in our faces.”

You place four plates on the table, hesitant to speak up your voice comes out unsure, “Maybe Eddies right…”, The look on Bucks face was like daggers but you continued anyway, “He’s going to find out soon enough and it’s going to be so much worse if it’s not us he’s hearing it from. Plus this is stressing everyone out.”

An ‘I told you so’ - satisfied smirk makes its way onto Eddie's lips at that. With one hand on his hip he watches Buck who looks as stubborn as ever but at the end of the day there was only so many times he could say no to you.

“We’ll talk about it later.”Buck mutters, irritated with his best friend's interference and his girlfriend's agreeance. But most of all with the fact he knew they were right.

“Seriously, Evan, Hen is about this-,” he holds two fingers up “close to outing you both.”

A loud scoff leaves Bucks lips, his eyes rolling. “She wouldn’t.”, he shakes his head, though his tone is unconvinced. He knows Hen and he knows Eddie isn’t lying.

In an urge to comfort him you step beside Buck, hands running soothingly up and down his arms. You wished Eddie would drop the subject, at least for now but he was relentless.

He raises an eyebrow, grin still present even though he’s annoyed with the pair of you. “You sure about that? Because last week she said, and I quote, ‘If those two don’t grow a spine and tell Bobby, I’m announcing it during morning briefing.’”

Buck groans dramatically and drags a hand down his face, muttering “Unbelievable” under his breath.

Your boyfriend turns his head and looks down at you, his face softening but not completely. It’s not until you turn him, one hand cupping his face and the other massaging his shoulder gently that the tightness in his jaw eases.

“You know my dad, he’ll be understanding and supportive as long as we tell him.”, You say softly. You weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself as well. Buck’s eyes flicker down to the floor, he knew you weren’t wrong but the anxiety still stayed.

Eddie finishes putting food out onto the table just as Christopher appears from his room. The four of you settle at the table for dinner and for the moment the subject changes.

Later that night Buck and you had talked about it again, the conversation ending in a similar result as the prior one. Both of you are tense and caught in your own thoughts, mulling over the pros, cons and the inevitable truth that your relationship couldn’t be a secret forever nor much longer.

Buck sits against the headboard of your bed, his gaze unfocused as he zones out. Despite your own overthinking you notice how spaced out he is, staring off into the distance.

You finish getting ready for bed before you join him, climbing over to him to straddle his lap, his hands immediately taking their place on your thighs. Neither of you break the silence at first, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

Almost subconsciously his hands palm your doughy thighs, the action working to soothe him. At first you don't register the words he says, but when you process it you’re taken aback, shocked by his decision.

“We’ll tell him.”, he murmurs quietly, so quietly you barely catch it.

You blink, hands pausing where they’d been resting on his shoulders, “What? Are you serious?”

He nods slowly, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat, “Yeah. Just- Just let me choose the right moment, please.”

You agreed, you’d let him do it when he was ready. Waiting clearly wasn't an issue you had.

Another shift had passed and the truth still remained hidden. Both of your courages were shattered when the bell had gone off just as you’d told Bobby you needed to talk.

Now here you were back at Buck’s apartment, lying on top of him in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. Your head resting on his bare chest, the sheets beneath the pair of you messy and tangled.

Bucks fingers lazily grazing the exposed skin on your back, shirt ridden up just above your mid section. It had been a tough shift, especially for Buck. One call bringing up the traumas of his childhood. This, exactly how you were right now, was what he needed to unwind.

“I love you, sweetheart.”, he whispers. The first time those three words had been said, though previously unspoken it was obvious. Obvious in the way you touched, the way you spoke, the way you simply existed with one another.

You turn your head to look at his face, lips twitching up into a wide smile. You see the light rosy blush dusting his cheeks. You adored when he looked this way, flustered, comfortable, in love.

“I love you too.”, you murmur back, grin widening even as you shift higher up his chest to place pecks against his lips.

The blonde tucks your hair behind your ear, eyes roaming across your face in admiration. “I’m sorry if I’ve been making you doubt lately. Doubt us I mean.”

Your brows furrow, you had an idea of what he meant but you weren’t expecting an apology. You knew Buck always had the best intentions at heart even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“I want Bobby to know. I do, god, I really do. I want him to know how much I love his daughter.”, you go to speak but he continues, “He should have known a long time ago. I’m sorry that you’ve had to lie to him, to keep things from him.”

You look at him, look into his eyes. You reach up, thumb stroking lightly against the stubble of his jaw. “It’s not just you who didn’t want him to find out. Don’t put all of this onto yourself.”

“Yeah but it’s me who keeps stalling.”, he sighs, fingers toying with the band of your underwear absently.

You scatter kisses across his chest, “Think how good it’ll be when we don’t have to hide it.”

He groans lowly at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Trust me, I do. Can’t wait to be able to touch you, kiss you whenever I want. Brag about being your boyfriend.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Yeah? Who exactly are you planning on bragging to?”, you tease, smirking up at him as you rest your head back down on his chest.

“Only everyone. Whoever will listen, and even the ones who don’t.”

You shake your head grinning, pressing your lips back to his. Your fingers rake through his curls as you press yourself closer, deepening the kiss.

The kiss is only broken by the sound of knocking at the front door. You pull apart and Buck groans, rolling his eyes with ever the attitude.

“Expecting someone?”, you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the blond at which he shakes his head.

“Maybe we should just ignore it.”, he mumbles, fingers tangling into your hair to tilt your head to the side, leaning up to start kissing your neck.

His attempt at keeping you in bed fails. “Want me to get it?”, you tease, backing away in only his shirt that hangs just at your thighs making it look like you have nothing under.

“Go for it, baby.”, he hums watching you walk away, taking in the way you look in his clothes. As you reach the bottom of the stairs Evan rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand, scrolling through his notifications he hasn’t checked since finishing his shift.

Meanwhile you trail down the stairs of his loft, over to the door in a happy daze, grinning away at your boyfriend's previous affections.

Stupidly, you don’t bother looking through the peephole, instead opting to just open the door. You had been expecting anyone but who you were met with.

Your face instantly drops, hand on the door knob stilling.

Buck by now after reading the texts on his phone has raced down the stairs to stand beside you, his face equally as mortified.

“Cap.”

“Dad.”

You both stutter simultaneously, stumbling on words and thoughts.

Bobby’s face mirrors your own shock. Awkward silence passes as no one knows what to say. Your father is the first to break it.

“I see I interrupted something.”

Buck, still shirtless with only his sweats and boxers hanging low on his hips, is quick to jump into damage control, though he doesn’t do a very good job of it. “We can explain, I swear.”

A disappointed sigh escapes Bobby, “I bet you can.” His eyes shift away, “I’d rather have this conversation with the two of you fully clothed.”

“Right.”, Evan nods, lips pressed in a tight line. His hands come down on the sides of your upper arms, guiding you back towards the stairs, sensing you were pretty much frozen in place by embarrassment.

While the pair of you go upstairs, Bobby makes his way into the small apartment, sitting at the table while he waits.

You make eye contact with Buck as you pull on a pair of pants and he a shirt. With the apartment being so tiny you couldn’t say anything, not with your father and captain downstairs. The loft barely even being a real room, lacking a wall and door.

Anxiety radiated off you both. Though part of you couldn’t help but feel relief at everything being out in the open. Or at least soon to be.

When you come back down the stairs you see Bobby with his head resting in his hand, elbow on the dining table he’s sitting at. His gaze is distant, as if looking back and trying to find all the signs he’d missed. He turns his attention to the pair of you as you sit down with him.

Where to even start? How were you meant to tell your father that this started as a spontaneous hook up. You didn’t want him to know that and you’d guess Buck didn’t either.

“How long has this been going on?”, he asks, motioning between you and Evan.

You gulp, “A while.”

Bobby’s eyes narrow, “How long is ‘a while’?”

You risk a glance at your boyfriend who’s turned at least a shade paler.

Buck swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, “A few months.”

The older man’s eyes widen, he rubs his forehead like this whole thing was giving him a headache.

“Are you dating?”

You nod immediately, hopefully the fact you were dating and this wasn’t some meaningless fling would count for something. Or it could make the fact it was hidden worse.

“Yes- yeah we are.”

Buck echoes you with a simple but tense, “Yeah.”

Bobby exhales heavily through his nose, nodding slowly like he’s trying to absorb the information piece by piece. There’s no outburst, no immediate anger. Just that furrowed brow of his and a thick silence that fills the room.

“Dad, I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you-”,

“We wanted to, we really did, Cap.”, Buck butts in panicking.

Bobby sighs, exuding disappointment and betrayal, “Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?”

You wince, not wanting to say everyone but him. His hurt is evident and it makes your heart clench to know you're the cause of it.

“We were worried. We got in our heads too much.”, you admit. “We’ve been planning on telling you… Things just haven’t been going right. You ignore the last part of the question, hoping he doesn’t realise. He probably knew the answer without needing to be told anyway.

“Bobby, it’s my fault. I’ve been scared to tell you, putting it off for as long as I could because I didn’t want to screw anything up between us. You’re family, like a dad to me and I didn’t want to risk losing that.”, Buck’s sincere and Bobby can tell. His words come out like a plea, begging his captain to forgive him.

Obviously it wasn’t only the blonds fault, you playing your own equal part in it but the fact that Buck was trying to take all the blame was both heartwarming and a little frustrating.

After a moment of deep thought Bobby breaks his silence. “I get it, I do.” Buck relaxes slightly until he hears the next word to come from his mouth.

“But,” Bobby continues, his voice tinged with that firm, fatherly authority, “you should’ve come to me sooner. Both of you. I may be your captain, Buck, but I’m also her father. I deserved to know before now. And I deserved to be told, I shouldn’t have had to walk in on the two of you.”

You sigh, speaking quietly, “Of course you did.�� A beat passes before anyone speaks again, tension high in the room.

“You kept this from me for months,” Bobby says, a tinge of frustration bleeding through. “You’ve lied, made excuses anytime I was getting suspicious or getting close to the truth. And I’m guessing you’ve had the crew lie to me at one time or another to cover for you.”

Shaky breaths seep from you and Buck, both looking guilty like two children being scolded. You fidget with your hands in your lap, listening to every disappointed word your father says.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I really love her.”, Buck’s voice cracks. His eyes shine with emotion, watery like he was almost about to cry. Your cheeks warm at his words, probably turning beetroot red. You could get used to hearing him say that.

“I don’t doubt it, and I can’t really say I’m all that surprised. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”, Bobby admits with slight amusement, a small grin sneaking onto his face that he tries to contain.

You both can’t help the way the corners of your lips turn up at that.

“I thought I was imagining it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see it.”, Bobby sighs. “Even though I feel betrayed, I am still happy for the both of you. I’m just hurt that you had so little faith in me.”

Your boyfriend finds your hand under the table, squeezing it tightly but reassuringly.

“I’m sorry dad, if we could go back do things differently then I definitely would.”

Bobby nods, his expression softening.

“No more secrets.”, Buck announces, standing up. Bobby and yourself do the same.

Buck holds out his hand to Bobby, not as his captain but as your father, seeking approval. Approval he should have asked for a long time ago.

Bobby waits an uncomfortable amount of time to take his hand, almost to the point of you thinking he wasn't going to. Really it was just to make Buck itch.

They shake hands, Bobby pulling Buck into a firm hug. “I’d say you better treat her right, Evan, but I know you will.”, your father says firmly, still a warning.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I love her with all my heart.”, Buck smiles as they pull apart. He’s still tense but nowhere near as bad as earlier.

Next he pulls you into his arms tightly, the kind of fatherly hug that says I’m still your dad first, no matter what. His chin rests briefly against the top of your head, and you feel his chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh.

“Promise me the next time something big happens you’ll let your old man know, okay?”, he murmurs not letting you go just yet. You both knew that sometimes he couldn’t help but still see you as his little girl, that was something he’d have to work on.

“I will, I love you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you too, sweetheart.” He pulls away as he adds, “You too, Buck.”, with a teasing grin that makes both you and Buck chuckle. This felt nice. The three of you back to being close. No more secrets, nothing hidden.

After a moment your brow furrows, a question popping into your head. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

“Thought I’d check on Buck after that call today. I see now that he was in good hands all along.”

“Well that was…”, Buck trails off not knowing how to put it into words. His hands rest on your hips as he sits on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him. Your thumb rubs soothing circles on his cheek, the other running through his hair in the way he likes as you look down at him lovingly.

After Bobby had left it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders and from your relationship. Of course it would take a little while for things to fall into a new normal but at least now you weren’t carrying some big secret.

“Well what now, Evan Buckely?”, you hum. The use of his full name makes Buck smirk, he grabs you and brings you down onto the mattress, settling on top of you between your legs.

His smirk doesn’t falter, that crooked grin you love so much staying right where it is. “Guess now we get to figure out what being public actually means.”

“How about we start by not answering the door half naked?”, you suggest. He pauses his attempt at lifting your shirt off like he just got caught doing something he’s not supposed to.

“Now, who’s fault was that, huh?”, he teases, kissing down your stomach.

“Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned.”

...

a/n: lowkey hate this but i say that about everything i write. fuck it we ball.

omg i should have added maddie in this what the freak

278 notes · View notes

itwillbethescarletwitch · 19 days ago

Text

She Cut, He Lived

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

9-1-1 x Top Gun crossover

(partially inspired by that one scene in Chicago Med where Dr Rhodes performed a surgery in the ED)

The sun hung low over Los Angeles, casting molten streaks of orange across the glass skin of downtown. Outside Station 118, the air shimmered from the summer heat, and inside, a slow tension built beneath the usual hum of chatter.

You stood by the truck, clipboard in hand, chewing on the inside of your cheek as Bobby went over the details one last time.

“Today’s just a drill. Navy’s here running cross-branch response training. No pressure, just teamwork.”

You nodded, shifting slightly under the weight of your medic pack. You were used to these things—interagency nonsense, forced coordination. But this was different.

Because they were pilots. Fighter pilots.

And the Navy didn’t do small.

⸻

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” Buck asked, brushing a smudge off his jacket sleeve.

Hen glanced at him with a dry smile. “You’re nervous about looking cool in front of people who fly $70 million jets for fun. That’s not weird. That’s Buck.”

Chimney laughed under his breath. “Just don’t start quoting Top Gun.”

You smirked, eyes still on the tablet as Bobby gave the go-ahead to roll out.

⸻

The airfield was crawling with uniforms.

As the 118 truck pulled up to the secure perimeter, the team was greeted by a scene that could’ve been ripped from a Navy recruitment video: sun, sleek planes, pilot helmets under arms. There were a few dozen of them in flight suits, all chatting near the hangars.

One in particular caught your eye.

Tall. brunette. Calm.

His name was stitched into the front of his flight suit.

Floyd.

⸻

“I think he’s looking at you,” Eddie murmured, elbowing you softly.

You blinked. Sure enough, Bob Floyd was watching you. Not smugly. Not flirtatiously. Just… curiously. As if you were the one in the suit, the one dropping from the sky.

You looked away first.

⸻

The morning passed in exercises: mock emergencies, radio drills, rescue scenarios. You and Floyd barely exchanged words—but every time you crossed paths, there was a heartbeat where the world paused.

During the multi-casualty triage simulation, you barked instructions at a cluster of medics and fire recruits. You were in your element—fast, precise, composed.

You didn’t know Bob had stopped to watch. But he had.

“She’s good,” he muttered to Rooster under his breath.

Rooster raised a brow. “That a professional opinion, or is your crush showing?”

Bob looked away, ears red. “It’s not—shut up.”

⸻

By late afternoon, the teams gathered near the tarmac for cooldown. Someone brought out cold drinks, and the chatter got looser. Easier. You found yourself standing near Bob, close enough to hear him laugh but too far to join in.

Until he noticed you.

He smiled—not wide, not cocky. Just honest.

“You saved three fake patients and made three real lieutenants cry today. Not bad for a Tuesday.”

You laughed. “You watching me?”

“Maybe.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You looked… like you were born for this.”

That stunned you more than it should’ve.

“Thanks. Most people just call me bossy.”

He shrugged. “You can be both.”

⸻

The others moved around you—118 talking to Phoenix, Hangman trying (and failing) to flirt with Hen, Rooster poking Buck’s shoulder like a little brother testing boundaries.

But you and Bob?

You just stood there. Eyes on each other. Saying nothing. Thinking everything.

⸻

You wouldn’t remember what drink you were holding. Or what song was playing from someone’s speaker.

But you would remember the next sentence for the rest of your life:

“I hope we work together again sometime.”

———

The sound was wrong.

That’s what you’d remember first.

It didn’t sound like an explosion or a crash or the kind of thunder you could prepare for.

It sounded like the sky tore open.

⸻

The call came in during breakfast the next morning.

You were mid-laugh with Chimney, scrambled eggs half-eaten in your bowl, when Bobby’s voice rang out, sharp and clipped.

“Bird strike. Navy jet down. Civilian airspace—possible freeway contact. Multiple calls coming in. Suit up.”

The room went silent.

You didn’t need a second to think.

Your feet were already moving.

⸻

The engine roared as the truck sped through the L.A. streets, sirens slicing through the morning calm. In the back, your hands shook as you secured your trauma bag, mind spinning with too many possibilities.

What pilot was flying?

Were they alone?

Was it Bob?

You didn’t let yourself say it out loud. Not yet.

But every time the truck turned, every time you leaned into the sway of momentum, your stomach dropped a little more.

⸻

You could smell it before you saw it.

Burning fuel. Charred plastic. Rubber. Flesh.

You stepped off the rig and felt the heat of the jet’s remains before you could process the sight.

Metal scattered across six lanes of the freeway. Smoke coiling into the sky. A car crushed completely beneath one of the wings.

And then—

“WE’VE GOT A PILOT. SOUTHWEST PERIMETER. HE EJECTED.”

You didn’t hear who shouted it.

You just ran.

⸻

He wasn’t moving.

That was the first thing.

He was sprawled on the concrete, limbs twisted, flight suit shredded from the impact. Blood soaked the pavement beneath him, seeping from his side, his thigh, his mouth.

And then the second thing—

It was Bob.

⸻

“No, no, no, no—” you dropped to your knees beside him, hands already moving without permission.

Pulse: thready. Breath: shallow. Pupils: reactive.

You pressed your fingers against his neck and felt the flutter of life barely clinging.

“Bob. Stay with me, baby. Come on. Eyes on me.”

Your voice cracked. Chim was at your side within seconds. Buck had the backboard. Eddie was calling ahead to dispatch for trauma support.

But you couldn’t stop looking at him.

His eyes were barely open, lips tinged with blue. And then he coughed.

Blood.

A lot.

⸻

“Breathing sounds different collapsed lung. Possible internal bleeding. We need to go now.”

You climbed into the back of the ambulance with him, holding pressure on the wound in his abdomen with one hand, the other gripping his blood-soaked fingers.

“Don’t die. Please. Not you.”

The words didn’t even sound like your own.

The hospital was chaos.

Civilians injured by falling debris. Other pilots being checked for shock. News vans already parking outside.

You screamed for a trauma bay, barked vitals, shoved the stretcher down the corridor with Chimney and Buck flanking both sides.

And then the trauma doctor paused.

“OR’s full. We’ll stabilize and wait for—”

“He doesn’t have time.”

The ER nurse looked at you, uncertain. “They won’t let anyone operate down here. Not unless it’s—”

“Then it’ll be me.”

⸻

The attending’s face turned cold. “You’re an EMT. You are not licensed to perform surgery here. If you cut him open in my ER, you will never work again.”

You looked down at Bob, whose eyes fluttered open just enough to find yours.

He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Just a tear.

Just a breath.

And that was all it took.

“I wasn’t asking for permission. I’m saving him.”

⸻

The anesthesiologist—bless her—rushed down when you screamed her name.

“Either help or get out of my way,” you said to the staff around you.

Some fled.

But most stayed.

You slipped your gloves on. Scrubbed. Masked up.

You stared at Bob’s chest. At the spreading blood. At the choice.

And then you made the incision.

⸻

It wasn’t a clean room. It wasn’t a sterile OR. But it was enough.

Someone clamped. Someone suctioned. The anesthesiologist kept his vitals stable. You moved with mechanical precision and heart-shaking fear.

You packed the bleeding liver. You retracted the ribs. You stabilized his femoral artery with shaking hands and bloody sleeves.

You sutured and prayed in the same breath.

And finally, after what felt like hours—

His heartbeat steadied.

The monitors beeped in rhythm.

He lived.

⸻

You stepped back, covered in blood, heart breaking open in your chest. You didn’t cry.

Not yet.

You looked down at the man on the table—alive.

And you whispered, “You’re not allowed to leave me.”

Then everything went dark.

Because the board of directors was already walking toward you.

And the rest of your life was about to collapse.

———

They didn’t even let you clean your hands.

You were still in blood-soaked scrubs, sleeves rolled to your elbows, hair messily shoved beneath your surgical cap, when the board stepped into the ER bay.

There were four of them.

Two from the hospital’s administration.

One from the county health department.

And one attorney.

You already knew what was coming.

You just hadn’t expected it so soon.

⸻

“That was unauthorized,” the woman in the navy suit said, not bothering with an introduction. “You were advised repeatedly that you are not cleared to operate in this facility.”

You looked up from the gurney. Bob was being wheeled to the ICU, still unconscious, a breathing tube keeping him stable.

“And if I hadn’t, he’d be dead.”

The man beside her spoke next, clipboard in hand. “That’s not the point.”

Chimney stepped forward. “You should be thanking her. She saved a life.”

The third administrator didn’t blink. “We didn’t say she didn’t. We said she broke protocol.”

⸻

You didn’t even fight it.

Didn’t cry. Didn’t scream.

Just stood there, letting their words wash over you like seawater on cracked pavement.

Suspension.

Immediate medical board review.

Pending license revocation.

Effective immediately.

“You are no longer permitted to practice medicine in any capacity under the L.A. County jurisdiction.”

⸻

Bobby met you at the base of the hospital steps two hours later.

You’d changed by then. Wiped the blood from your arms. Pulled your hair back. Folded your trauma jacket over your arm because it no longer felt like yours.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held out an envelope—your official release paperwork.

“This wasn’t my call,” he said, voice raw. “But it was my responsibility.”

You nodded.

You’d always known Bobby wouldn’t sugarcoat it. He was a good man. A fair one.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

⸻

“You saved him,” he said.

“I know.”

“And you’d do it again.”

“I would.”

Bobby looked at you like you were both the bravest person he knew—and someone he was about to lose forever.

“Then I’m proud of you. Even if this is goodbye.”

⸻

Hen didn’t come to say it.

She just pressed a sticky note into your hand before you left the hospital.

“You’re too good for this place. Go save someone else.”

You didn’t unfold it until hours later, in your dark apartment, knees pressed to your chest.

It smelled like antiseptic and blood.

But it smelled like your life.

And now it was gone.

⸻

You didn’t eat that night.

Didn’t sleep.

You sat at the window, looking out at the city lights—at all the people who would never know you saved a man’s life that morning and lost your own in return.

Bob was alive. That was all that mattered.

That should have been enough.

Shouldn’t it?

⸻

It was nearly midnight when you heard the knock.

Soft. Measured.

You almost didn’t answer it.

But something in your gut shifted.

You opened the door.

And Maverick was standing there.

⸻

He wasn’t in uniform. Just jeans and a jacket. Civilian enough to pass.

He looked at you with eyes that had seen too many funerals. Too many young caskets. Too many almosts.

“I heard what you did,” he said quietly.

You swallowed. “I assume you came to yell at me.”

Maverick shook his head. “No. I came to offer you a job.”

⸻

You laughed, bitter. “I don’t have a license anymore.”

“You saved my Lieutenant in the middle of an ER surrounded by people too scared to move. You think I give a damn about licensing?”

You blinked. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’m not a Navy officer. I’m not even a firefighter anymore.”

Maverick didn’t move. “Then come be something else. Come be the woman who saved a pilot and decided not to stop there.”

⸻

You didn’t answer right away.

You just looked at him. At the offer. At the open door behind him.

And you thought about Bob.

The blood on his lips.

The way he squeezed your fingers before he lost consciousness.

The way he looked at you like you were someone worth staying alive for.

⸻

“I need to be there,” you whispered.

“For him.”

Maverick nodded.

“Then pack your bag, doc. You start in the morning.”

———

The world came back in pieces.

First, it was light.

Too bright. Artificial. Unfamiliar.

Then it was sound—the hiss of oxygen, a distant monitor, footsteps like whispers on linoleum.

Finally, it was pain.

Sharp, white-hot, roaring behind his ribs and through his thigh like a lightning strike buried in bone.

⸻

Bob groaned.

His throat burned. He tried to speak, but the tube stole the words.

His hand moved. Barely. Weakly.

And then someone was there.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

A woman’s voice.

Your voice.

Even before he could open his eyes, he knew it.

⸻

You leaned forward, brushing trembling fingers across his hairline.

“Bob. You’re in the ICU. You’ve been out for three days. But you’re okay.”

His eyes cracked open, unfocused and watery—but locked on yours immediately.

He looked terrified. Lost.

Like he didn’t know if this was real.

“It’s me,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ve got you.”

⸻

They extubated him two hours later.

It was quiet. Careful. His vitals were strong enough.

You sat beside his bed, waiting for the sedation to fade fully, hand still wrapped around his—lightly this time, no pressure.

He turned his head toward you when he could finally breathe on his own.

“Did… did I crash?”

You nodded. “Bird strike. Ejected. You hit the freeway.”

He winced. “Is anyone else—?”

You cut him off gently. “No fatalities. A few injuries. But… you were the worst of it.”

You didn’t mean it to sound like that. Like he was the disaster. But the words hung there.

And then he whispered: “I thought I died.”

You smiled—just a little.

“You almost did.”

⸻

There was a silence.

The kind that lived in the space between confessions and consequences.

Bob’s brow furrowed slowly. “What happened to me?”

You looked at the monitor. Anywhere but his face.

“You were bleeding out. Too much internal damage. There were no trauma surgeons available. No OR open.”

“And?”

“And I operated on you. In the ER.”

Bob blinked slowly, trying to grasp it.

“You…?”

You nodded. “I’m a certified trauma surgeon. Not licensed at that hospital. They warned me not to.”

He was quiet again.

Then he rasped, “But you did it anyway.”

“Yes.”

Another beat.

“You saved me.”

You smiled again, softer. “Of course I did.”

His throat worked, but no words came.

Only his hand—tighter now around yours.

Like he was holding on for dear life.

⸻

They gave him a sedative soon after.

But before he slipped under again, he said one thing.

It came out broken. Slurred. But it was enough.

“You… didn’t have to do that.”

You kissed his hand and whispered, “I wanted to.”

⸻

The next morning, you returned with flowers.

He was more lucid this time, sitting upright with a pillow pressed to his ribs.

He looked better. Still pale. But alert.

His eyes lit up the second you walked in.

But then he saw the uniform.

Not your medic gear. Not your 118 jacket.

Navy scrubs.

His expression shifted.

“What happened?”

You sat beside him, bracing yourself.

“My license was revoked. County pulled it. The 118 had to let me go.”

His eyes went wide. “Because of me?”

You shook your head. “Because of the choice I made. I knew what would happen.”

His hands fisted in the sheets. “That’s not fair.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

He was silent for a long time.

And then: “I’m not worth that.”

You snapped your head toward him.

“Don’t you ever say that.”

He looked startled by your tone.

You softened, leaning forward. “You’re alive. You’re here. You’re everything. That was worth it.”

His eyes filled. “You lost everything.”

You smiled.

“No. I just changed directions.”

⸻

You told him about Maverick. About the offer. About the job that would let you keep saving people.

You didn’t mention the nights you cried. Or how much your hands still shook. Or how often you woke up thinking you were still in that ER, holding a man together with thread and fear.

You only told him the part that mattered:

“I’ll be here. Through your whole recovery. And after that, if you want.”

His voice cracked.

“I do.”

———

The Navy hospital was nothing like Station 118.

There were no fire pole calls in the middle of dinner. No yelling between Chimney and Buck. No Hen humming Motown on slow days. No Bobby watching from the kitchen with tired affection in his eyes.

Just white walls. Silence. Routine.

And Bob.

⸻

Your official title was Field Medic and Combat Surgical Advisor.

Unofficially? You were the reason Bob Floyd was alive.

They gave you a private room for his recovery—not out of kindness, but because Maverick had pulled strings you didn’t dare question. You’d been warned: stay within boundaries. You were on probation. Prove yourself again, and maybe the system would forgive what it tried to punish.

You didn’t care about forgiveness.

You cared about the man in the hospital bed.

⸻

The first day you checked in under the Navy’s command, you walked into Bob’s room wearing your new badge, clipboard in hand, hair tied up with your name stitched above your chest.

He stared.

Not in awe.

In something heavier.

Like the weight of what you gave up was finally starting to crush him.

You shut the door quietly and smiled.

“Morning, Lieutenant.”

Bob looked at you like you were the last beautiful thing in a burning world.

⸻

Rehab started immediately.

Not soft. Not slow.

He had a fractured femur, three cracked ribs, a damaged liver, and lungs that still refused to cooperate fully.

You were at his side for everything.

You helped him sit up.

You helped him breathe through coughing fits.

You helped him cry.

The nurses would say, “Doctor, he needs rest.” But he only relaxed when you were there.

And you were always there.

⸻

Three weeks in, he said it.

Quietly.

Not looking at you.

“I don’t sleep unless I know you’re in the room.”

You paused from charting. “Then I’ll stay.”

“I don’t want to be selfish.”

You shrugged. “Then be selfish.”

He chuckled, weak and rasped, and tilted his head to the side. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smiled down at the notes in your lap.

“Maybe I already have.”

⸻

The physical therapy sessions were brutal.

He screamed. Cried. Nearly passed out more than once.

You weren’t his PT. But you stood by the wall every day, arms crossed, heart splintering.

When he finally took two steps without collapsing, he looked to you first.

You didn’t run to him.

You just whispered, “I knew you would.”

⸻

At night, when the hallways were dark and the nurses dimmed the lights, you sat beside his bed and told him stories.

Not medical ones.

Personal ones.

He learned about your childhood. Your old dog. The reason you wanted to become a doctor in the first place.

“People always waited too long,” you said one night, fingers curled around a mug of weak tea. “I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to be the reason someone lived instead of died.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Then:

“You’re my reason.”

⸻

One night—six weeks after the crash—he had a nightmare.

You woke to the sound of machines beeping, breath ragged, the thump of his hand slamming against the railing.

He was sweating. Gasping. Eyes wild.

You were across the room in two seconds.

“Bob. Hey. Hey—look at me.”

You gripped his face between your palms. “You’re safe. It’s over. I’ve got you.”

He blinked rapidly, eyes tracking your face, grounding in your voice.

He whispered, “I saw the freeway again. I felt the fire.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

“Then let me be the thing you remember instead.”

⸻

Neither of you talked about what you were.

But everyone noticed.

Phoenix started asking how “your girl” was before you even walked into the room.

Payback made a joke about how the new Navy doc seems to like Bob an awful lot for someone not sleeping with him—and you didn’t even deny it.

Because the truth was deeper than sex. Stronger than titles. More intimate than a kiss.

It was in every look.

Every whisper.

Every impossible thing you sacrificed for him.

⸻

But you weren’t together.

Not yet.

Because Bob had one more hurdle.

And it was coming.

Fast.

⸻

You found him sitting in his wheelchair near the window, early light casting long shadows across the tile floor. His hands were shaking—not badly, but enough that you noticed. Always.

He was holding a letter.

When he heard you come in, he didn’t turn around. Just held the paper out behind him, trembling fingers gripping the corner.

You took it gently.

Your eyes scanned the top line first.

CLEARANCE RECOMMENDATION: LIMITED ACTIVE DUTY – NON-FLIGHT STATUS

You read it again. Then again.

Then you looked up.

Bob still hadn’t moved.

⸻

“You’re cleared for desk duty,” you said quietly.

He nodded once.

Didn’t say a word.

You stepped around the chair to see his face.

His jaw was clenched. Eyes wet, but not letting it fall. He wasn’t crying. He wouldn’t.

“This is good news,” you tried. “You’re recovering better than they expected. You’re—”

“Not a pilot.”

His voice cut through the air like broken glass.

You swallowed.

“That’s not true.”

He finally looked at you, pain cracking through the composure. “Yes, it is.”

⸻

He turned the wheelchair slightly, just enough to be facing away from the window now—toward you.

“There’s flying,” he said bitterly, “and then there’s pushing papers while the rest of the squadron goes up without you.”

You bent down so you were eye-level.

“This isn’t forever.”

“It feels like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, “You gave up everything to save me. And I’m still not whole.”

Your heart shattered at the edges.

⸻

You crouched in front of him, placing the letter down on his lap.

“You think I saved you so you could be a pilot again?”

He didn’t answer.

You reached up and gently cupped the side of his face. His eyes fluttered shut, like even the smallest touch still overwhelmed him.

“I saved you because I love you.”

His eyes opened slowly.

Raw. Wide. Unbelieving.

“You—”

You smiled, tears now brimming behind your lashes.

“Yes. I love you. Whether you’re flying or grounded. Whether you’re pushing buttons or walking with a cane. I didn’t fall for your wings, Bob. I fell for the man underneath them.”

⸻

For a long moment, he just looked at you.

Then, slowly, he slid his hand over yours.

Placed it on his chest.

Right above the scar you gave him when you cut him open to keep him alive.

His heartbeat was steady now.

Stronger.

“You’re the reason it still beats,” he whispered.

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Not rushed.

Not out of pity.

But because this—this—was what he needed more than flight clearance.

To be loved right here. As he was.

⸻

Later, as he drifted off in his bed, fingers still loosely tangled in yours, you whispered:

“We’ll get your wings back. But even if you never fly again—I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in weeks…

He smiled without flinching.

———

You hadn’t been back to Station 118 since the day Bobby handed you the envelope.

Not for a visit. Not for coffee. Not even to pick up the sweatshirt you left in the med closet—the one Hen said she’d hold onto, just in case you came back.

But you thought about it every day.

Every night you sat by Bob’s bed.

Every time you changed out of your Navy scrubs in silence.

Every time you passed the rig bays near the hospital and saw the glow of a fire truck engine light in the distance.

You weren’t one of them anymore.

But you still felt the burn in your bones.

⸻

Bob was stronger now. Able to walk short distances with a cane. He’d been pushing himself harder in physical therapy, sometimes even when you weren’t around, because he hated seeing the exhaustion in your face.

Today, he was seated upright in the hospital’s private recovery wing, sweat on his brow, breathing a little harder than usual—but he looked good.

Healthier. Grounded.

Human.

You checked his chart and adjusted the oxygen level slightly.

He studied your face while you worked.

“You were crying this morning.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You came in late. Eyes red. You tried to hide it, but…”

He trailed off. “What happened?”

⸻

You sighed, slowly lowering yourself onto the chair beside him. “I got a letter.”

“From the board?”

“No. From Hen.”

You pulled it from your pocket—folded, slightly crumpled, still soft with thumbprints. He took it gently, eyes scanning the neat handwriting.

“I know why you did it. If it were any of us, we would’ve done the same.”

“You didn’t lose your family. You just changed uniforms.”

“We’re still proud of you. And we still miss you.”

Bob handed it back, but not before you saw the emotion clouding his vision.

He reached for your hand. “Do you want to go back?”

You looked down.

“I want to belong somewhere. I think I still do. I just don’t know where anymore.”

⸻

Later that day, with Maverick’s blessing and Bob’s steady insistence (“You won’t rest until you do it. Go.”), you walked into Station 118 for the first time in two months.

It was a Sunday. Quiet.

You passed through the open bay doors, boots echoing on concrete.

It was exactly the same.

And somehow… nothing was.

⸻

Hen spotted you first.

She didn’t say anything.

Just walked up, hugged you, and held on like she was trying to put pieces back in place.

Buck came next—half-laughing, half-sniffling.

“You look weird in khaki,” he teased, voice cracking.

Chimney muttered something about Navy regs and skin-tight scrubs.

Eddie gave you a nod that said I missed you without needing words.

And Bobby?

He came out of the office last.

Stood there for a long second.

Then simply said:

“You made the hardest call. You saved a life. And I hope the Navy understands what kind of miracle they’ve got.”

You blinked through tears. “Thank you for not hating me.”

He shook his head. “No. Never that. We just… miss you.”

You smiled, wiping your cheek. “I miss you, too.”

⸻

They let you have a few minutes in the locker room. Your name was still on the door, taped in place. You ran your fingers over it.

On the top shelf was your sweatshirt. The one Hen promised to keep.

Folded neatly. Smelling faintly of home.

You tucked it into your bag.

And walked back into the light.

⸻

Back at the hospital, Bob was sitting in the visitor chair this time, waiting for you with a cup of bad coffee and a dog-eared book in his lap.

When you walked in, he looked up and smiled like you were the sun.

“Hey, doc.”

You sat beside him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

And you were.

Because even if you weren’t one of them anymore…

You were still someone.

Someone who saved lives.

Someone who was missed.

Someone who had someone waiting at the end of the day.

———

It started with eggs.

Overcooked. Rubbery. No salt.

He scrunched his nose and muttered, “These taste like regret.”

You snorted into your mug of coffee, barefoot in the corner of the small Navy housing kitchen. “That’s what happens when you don’t let me cook.”

Bob narrowed his eyes. “I’ve flown a supersonic jet through a canyon at night. I can fry an egg.”

You took one bite and coughed. “Respectfully, Lieutenant—no, you can’t.”

⸻

You were living together now.

Not officially, but… where else would you be?

After Bob was discharged from inpatient recovery and moved into short-term Navy housing near base, Maverick pulled you aside and said, “You can stay on base. I’ll approve the quarters.”

You didn’t argue. Neither did Bob.

You just packed your things and didn’t look back.

⸻

The first few weeks were quiet.

Rebuilding wasn’t loud or dramatic.

It was small things.

—You learning which days he needed help standing and which days he didn’t.

—Him learning how to breathe through pain without hiding it from you.

—You leaving sticky notes in his med drawer: “Don’t forget pain meds — love, Dr. Gorgeous.”

—Him slipping a note back into your locker at the hospital: “Don’t forget to come home. I like it better when you’re in the room.”

⸻

One night, you found him in the bathroom, trying to dress himself for PT.

His hands were shaking too hard to pull up the zipper on his jacket.

You hovered at the door, watching.

He dropped his hands with a sigh, eyes low.

“Can I help?” you asked softly.

He hesitated.

Then nodded.

You stepped behind him and reached around slowly, pulling the zipper up as your fingers brushed his chest. He flinched—not from you. From the way his own body betrayed him.

You rested your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

⸻

Later, in the car on the way home, he said:

“I used to feel like a pilot. Now I feel like a passenger in my own life.”

Your throat tightened.

You reached over and laced your fingers with his.

“Then let me drive for a while.”

⸻

The Navy gave him a temporary desk post—nothing flashy, just paperwork and safety reviews, the kind of thing that would make any pilot itch.

But Bob? He handled it.

For you.

Because you believed in him before anyone else did.

Because you opened his chest, saved his heart, and stayed to hold it in your hands every day since.

⸻

You had routines now.

Monday through Friday, you worked surgical shifts and checked in on your own patients.

Bob handled endless flight rosters and protocol audits.

Weekends were yours.

Groceries. Books. Early morning walks where he leaned on you just enough to notice but not enough to fall.

Every day, he grew steadier.

And every day, the air between you thickened.

Because you hadn’t had that moment yet.

The one that would take everything soft and sacred and make it physical.

You kissed, yes. Touched. Slept next to each other in the same bed.

But you hadn’t crossed that line since the hospital.

Not since he’d been broken.

Not since he’d looked at his body and thought less.

⸻

It happened the night it rained.

You were curled up on the couch in his hoodie, reading while he watched some old aviation documentary.

He kept sneaking glances at you.

You felt it. Smiled without looking up. “Do I have something on my face?”

He said nothing.

Just… looked.

And then—

“Come here.”

You glanced up.

He was already holding out a hand.

You walked to him, slow. Cautious.

He pulled you gently down into his lap—careful not to strain anything—but confident. Stronger.

He buried his face in your neck. “I’ve missed this.”

You curled your fingers into his hair. “I’ve been right here.”

“No,” he whispered. “This. Touching you. Feeling good. Feeling like a man again.”

Your heart cracked open.

⸻

You pulled back to look at him.

His eyes searched yours.

“I don’t know if I can do everything,” he said. “But I want to try.”

You kissed him—soft, slow, sacred.

“Then let me take care of you now.”

And you did.

⸻

You undressed each other like you were afraid to break the moment.

You traced his scars.

He kissed the pulse in your wrist.

You moved with reverence. Quiet awe. Not fire. Not frenzy.

Just love. Just need.

Just home.

⸻

Later, when his head rested on your chest and your fingers danced along his spine, he whispered:

“You know what I remember most from the crash?”

You blinked, already half-asleep. “Hmm?”

“Your voice. Calling me back.”

You kissed his temple.

And this time, you didn’t cry.

———

It happened during PT.

Sixteen weeks post-crash.

Bob had been pushing harder than usual, jaw clenched through every set, sweat dripping down his neck, fingers tight around the parallel bars. You’d stopped by on your break, just to check in.

You hadn’t expected him to do it.

Neither had the therapist.

But suddenly—

He let go.

For one second.

Then two.

Then 22 full steps, unassisted, before his leg wobbled and the therapist steadied him.

And in those steps, you saw it:

The man who used to fly.

The man who broke.

The man you helped rebuild.

⸻

You clapped your hand over your mouth, choking on a sob.

Bob looked up, chest heaving.

You smiled through your tears.

“You did it.”

He blinked like he couldn’t believe it.

Then, softly—“I wish you could see yourself right now.”

⸻

That night, he made dinner.

Actually made it.

No help. No burns. Just grilled chicken, rice, vegetables sautéed in too much garlic.

You sat at the tiny table in your shared quarters, a candle flickering between you.

Halfway through, he set his fork down.

“You never asked me why I didn’t say it back.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Back in the hospital. When you said you loved me.”

Your chest tightened.

“You don’t have to explain—”

“Yes, I do.”

⸻

He pushed his plate away.

“I didn’t say it then because I didn’t feel worthy of it.”

His voice was quiet. Steady.

“I was half a man. Broken. Bitter. You were everything I wasn’t—strong, steady, whole. And I didn’t want to cheapen what you gave up by saying something I didn’t feel I’d earned.”

You swallowed hard. Your eyes burned.

“But I was wrong.”

He stood slowly, came around the table, and knelt in front of you.

Took your hands in his.

“I love you. I love you for every second you spent keeping me alive. For every minute you waited for me to feel human again. I love you for the hands that held a scalpel and a heart. And I love you for never making me feel like a burden.”

You were crying now.

So was he.

“You gave up everything,” he said, voice cracking. “And I’d give it all back just to love you like this.”

You leaned down and kissed him—fierce, wet-cheeked, shaking.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

He pulled you into his lap, arms wrapped around your waist like he’d never let go.

“I know. But I’m still going to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you.”

⸻

You didn’t need a ring.

Didn’t need a title.

That night, in the dark, as you lay tangled beneath warm sheets and cool air, you whispered,

“This is it, isn’t it?”

Bob turned his head. “What?”

You smiled.

“Forever.”

And he whispered back, without hesitation—

“Yeah. It is.”

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eternalbuckley · 2 months ago

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your boyfriend evan buckley knew how close you were with your grandparents. he knew how sad you were that they couldn’t visit l.a. and be there on your birthday because of conflicts with the flying company. sure, they called you and all that, but it wasn’t the same. so, buck made sure to arrange a little surprise for you, planned by him.

you had been working all day when he had his day off. which meant that he had enough time to prepare everything at your shared apartment. he made sure to pick up your grandparents from the airport and drive them to your home safely. afterwards he cooked with your grandma your favourite food. something she always made for you in your childhood. you told buck multiple times how much you missed your grandma’s cooking, though buck is an amazing cook as well, but it wasn’t the same. buck knew how much you’d appreciate what he had planned – your grandparents did too. especially because they were very fond of him from the first time, they met him when you introduced him to your family. they were happy to see how well he treated you – something they always wished for you. they always wished that you’d find and be with someone who truly appreciates, loves and cares for you.

after all, his plan worked perfectly. seeing the happiness appearing on your tired face as you got home and saw your grandparents made everything perfect. you had the best boyfriend you could imagine and couldn’t be more thankful to have him in your life.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ navigation | 9-1-1 masterlist | my taglist

a/n: i haven't written anything about my favourite firefighter in such a long time, so here's something small and sweet that randomly came into my mind. this draft has been sitting for some time in my drafts and i finally wanted to share it. i haven't proofread this so ignore possible grammar mistakes (english is not my first language) — reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

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munsonsmixtapes · 23 days ago

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hey! can i get a hot dog with a sweet tea and a ticket for the rollercoaster? thx <3

Come on down to the fair!

Order up: Evan “Buck” Buckley with fluff and she fell first/he fell harder

summary: You and Buck celebrate your engagement with your friends and family

To everyone’s surprise, you were the first to fall in your relationship with Buck. You had met through Maddie and had become friends pretty quickly, but it didn’t take long for you to fall for him. It was quite easy, actually. He’s so sweet and treated you like you mattered.

And one day, it all just clicked for the two of you-there on Buck’s couch, you shared the first of many kisses. But things didn’t pick up right then. It was just a moment that neither of you could ignore. After a few months of being hopelessly in love with him, he realized that he loved you too. And he fell hard.

For weeks he denied his feelings because he was scared of ruining your friendship. But when you told him about how you felt, he just knew that it was meant to be. And it seemed like everyone who you told let out a breath because they had all been waiting for this to happen. Apparently you were both more obvious about your feelings than you thought.

Maddie and Chimney’s apartment is packed with all of your closest friends and family as you and Buck celebrate your engagement. It wasn’t exactly a surprise since you found the ring weeks before he had planned to do it. But he proposed to you in his living room and it was much more romantic than you ever thought it could be. He had tears in his eyes while telling you that you were his best friend and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

You’re side by side, smiling for the camera on Maddie’s phone. She took it upon herself to plan the entire thing and now she’s taking pictures like a proud mom, nothing but teary eyed as she does so. She’s just so happy for the two of you-that you’ve found each other after years of failed dates/relationships. But this one she’s sure is going to stick.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says for what has felt like the thousandth time since you’ve gotten together. But you don’t mind in the slightest. You were hesitant to tell her about you and Buck and are honestly surprised that she’s so okay with the fact that her brother and best friend are getting married.

“Thank you,” you reply. “Genuinely. Thank you for everything.” She’s done so much for you over the past few years and you’ve been nothing but grateful to have her in your life. You suppose that she’s been a sister to you too with bringing you coffee at work every morning as well as giving you advice when you ask for it.

“Of course. Have to take care of my sister.” She pulls you in for a hug and Buck is next. You watch them, so happy that they have each other, especially after everything that has happened with their parents. They’ve become even closer over the years, especially with their jobs and you can’t help but feel like all of this was fate.

“I think it’s time we do presents. What do you think?” Maddie asks as she pulls away.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you reply and pull Buck along to the chairs that have been set up for you right by the present table. As you sit and look around at all of the people who have gathered to celebrate you and your fiancé, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Especially with Buck by your side.

#9-1-1 #9 1 1 on abc #9 1 1 fandom #9 1 1 fanfiction #9 1 1 show #9 1 1 #evan “buck” buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley x you #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley x y/n #fair prompts

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mill1liss · 4 months ago

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so, first buck tells abby "if it's really serious we facetime" and then he and eddie have facetime literally all the time

r u serious?

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fictionalmenxyn · 10 months ago

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𖦹✩𓇽𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𓇽☆𖦹

(feel free to request, you can either use the ask or message me, have a good day/night all!! 🫶🫶) (won’t be posting on Saturdays until further notice!) (POSTING AS MUCH AS I CAN BESIDES SATURDAYS)

𐫰𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𐫰

Rafe & RJ mood board

Cowboy!rafe x Cowgirl!reader mood board

frat!rafe x sorority!reader mood board

UPDATE (face claim) frat!rafe x sorority!reader mood board

A shopping day, what could go wrong?

A jealous golfer

She’s a car girl

A quiet day at Y/l/n ranch

A helping hand

A party that leaves you thinking

Got your hat! (Pt.2 of ^)

Rants and raspberries

A long day at college

First rule of Rafe club is, you don’t touch what’s mine

Kisses and cuddles

Captain’s orders

Late night visits

hello officer

didn’t know it was you baby

My Woman

wtf?! Following her?! Rlly?!

babysitting on his own, technically

Honey I’m home

Honey, you’ll never believe this

Reunion

Welcome back, Stranger

Cherry Cherry Lady

Frat Summer

Late Night Needs

Biking with the boys

Lucky Charm

Day in the Life

Failing on me? No chance Pt.2

Frat!Rafe x Sorority!Reader Scenarios

frat!rafe is the type to…

¡10 Things I Hate About You Masterlist!

frat!rafe headcannons

frat!sorority social!au pt.1

frat!sorority social!au pt.2

frat!sorority social!au pt.3

frat!rafe/rafe social!au

RJ social!au pt.1

RJ social!au pt.2

RJ social!au pt.3

RJ social!au pt.4

Rafe social media au

Texts from Rafe pt.1

Texts from frat!Rafe pt.1

Texts from frat!rafe pt.2

Texts from frat!Rafe pt.3

Texts from frat!rafe pt.4

Texts from frat!rafe pt.5

Texts from frat!rafe pt.6

𖥚𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲𖥚

Interview clash

Yearly interview

Family visits and getting caught

Snap stories from actress!reader with Drew

𖥕𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬𖥕

Sturniolos and streams

Mood Board Chris

Twitch and giggles Chris

Snaps from bf!chris pt.1

Snaps from bf!matt pt.1

snaps from bf!matt pt.2

᪣𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧 ’𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤’ 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲᪣

Mood Board

Oh Buck, you’ve got her

◎𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳◎

Mood Board

A false alarm, or a crime scene?

֍𝐃𝐂𝐔֍

Let us take care of you- both Nightwing and Redhood

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salemsvlog · 1 year ago

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Maddie, joking about Buck liking guys for almost 5 seasons: for the kicks an giggles

Maddie, after Buck comes out to her:

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sluckleykinard · 6 months ago

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a lil' snippet for that truck

It’s quiet inside the truck as they watch Eddie’s car and U-Haul disappear from the street, becoming a small dot until he makes a left and is gone. Buck keeps watching, until a warm hand resting on his thigh brings him back. He looks to the side, soft, patient, warm blue eyes looking at him with care and worry.

“Are you okay?”

“He… He’s gone,” is all he can muster up to say, sighing as he looks back to where Eddie’s car vanished. The hand squeezes his thigh, reassuring, present, grounding.

“He’ll come back,” Tommy’s voice is so certain, Buck is too weak to fight it and not believe him. “They’ll both come back.” The hand from thigh disappears and re-appearing on the back of his neck, fingers caressing his now damp curls from the light drizzle. Buck looks back at the man, his lips curled into a nice, reassuring smile. “Not everyone who leaves is gone forever.”

It's a powerful sentence that makes Buck think it’s not just about Eddie that Tommy is talking about right now. And even though the clear and most recent example is sitting right next to him, he can’t help but also think about Maddie, who left him so many times, but got back every single one, always finding her way back. Sure, he has a long list of people who are gone for good, but the ones who mattered most… They always came back.

#bucktommy #evan 'buck' buckley #tommy kinard #that truck belongs to tommy and no one is telling me otherwise #get on the truck bitches we're clowning again #i'm not gonna write a whole fic on this but i wrote this and wanted to share #9 1 1 fanfiction #9 1 1 fic #tevan

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redocity · 5 months ago

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hi! i’m in love with your work. i hope this is not a strange request but i was speaking to one of my friends about how buck would subscribe to an OF account that turned out to be the new recruit at the 118.

bonus points if he recognizes them by their voice 🙏😝

GOIN’ BUCK WILD — E.BUCKLEY

you have a moment of introspection after realising that one of your new teammates already knows who you are. from your less… public form of income.

evan buckley x gn!OF!reader | 1.4k | nsfw | masterlist.

a/n — speed ran this request bc it’s actually hilarious. this is such a buck thing to do

18+ for nsfw mentions. MDNI.

You never expected this to happen. Not in a million years. You always knew there was a risk, a slim one, but still a possibility. The internet is vast, yet incredibly small at the worst of times.

You’ve been running your OnlyFans account for a little over a year now. It started off as a side hustle, a way to make some extra cash while working toward your career goals. You never showed your face, never revealed anything too personal—just enough to keep your subscribers coming back.

A few teases here and there, a sultry voice guiding them through whatever fantasy they needed. It paid well. Really well.

And then you got the call. The one you’d been waiting for.

The 118 had an opening, and they wanted you.

You worked your ass off to get here. The training, the certifications, the grueling hours. You deserved this. You earned it. And nothing—not even your little side gig—was going to get in the way.

Or so you thought.

Day one at the 118 is nerve-wracking, but you keep your cool. You walk in with confidence, shaking hands, introducing yourself to the team. They all seem great—kind, welcoming, like the family you hoped to find here. Bobby Nash, the Captain, offers you a warm smile. Eddie, all serious but friendly enough. Chimney, cracking a joke within seconds of meeting you.

And then there’s Evan Buckley.

Buck, as he introduces himself, is standing a few feet away, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to place you. You extend a hand. “Hey, nice to meet you,”

The moment you speak, his entire body goes rigid. His blue eyes widen, his mouth opens, then closes, then opens again like he’s trying to find words but they’ve all escaped him. And then, like a switch has been flipped, his face goes bright red.

Like, rivalling the fire-engines red.

Buck is a man who likes to enjoy himself—who can blame him? He works a dangerous job, sees things most people would rather pretend don't exist. So when he gets home, when he's alone in his bed, he indulges.

And god, has he indulged in you.

Or at least, the version of you he's seen on a screen. The one who teases and whispers, who lets out soft, breathy moans that have gotten him through more nights than he’d like to admit.

But none of that prepared him for this. For you standing in front of him in broad daylight, in full gear, looking so much better than his imagination ever managed.

You pause, confused. His grip on your hand is firm, almost too tight, and when you glance down, you can see his knuckles turning white.

“Buck, you good?” Chimney nudges him with an elbow, snapping him out of it.

Buck blinks rapidly, clearing his throat as he drops your hand like it burned him. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Great. Fine,” His voice cracks on the last word, and you swear you see Chimney smirk.

“You sure? You’re looking a little…” Eddie gestures vaguely to Buck’s entire existence right now.

“I’m fine,” Buck insists, before turning his attention back to you. “So, uh. You’re the new recruit?”

“That’s me,” you say, still smiling. “Looking forward to working with you, Buck,”

He makes a sound. It’s almost a word, but mostly just a strangled noise.

“Cool. Cool, yeah. Same,”

Bobby starts introductions, and Buck tries—really tries—to focus. But every time you speak, his eyes flick to your lips, then away just as fast.

He is so screwed.

You arch a brow but don’t press. Maybe he’s just awkward. Maybe he’s nervous about new recruits. You don’t know him well enough to tell, so you move on, shaking Eddie’s hand next, then the others.

But even as the introductions wrap up, you can feel Buck’s eyes on you, burning into your skin like he’s just had a revelation of biblical proportions.

It doesn’t hit you until later.

Not until you’re in the locker room, shoving your gear into your assigned space, when you remember something—a very specific string of comments on one of your recent videos.

God, you sound so good.

Your voice is insane.

Do you take requests?

And the username attached to it?

BucksWild89.

Your stomach drops.

Oh. Oh no.

You spin around, catching a glimpse of Buck through the open doorway. He’s standing in the kitchen, gripping a bottle of water so tightly you think it might shatter in his hands. His eyes dart to you, and when he sees you looking, he immediately looks away, ears still red.

Shit.

He knows.

The realisation settles over you like a weighted blanket, suffocating and oddly exhilarating at the same time. You should be mortified. You are mortified. But there’s also a tiny, traitorous part of you that finds this hilarious.

Evan Buckley, firefighter, hero, and apparently one of your most devoted subscribers, is currently having an existential crisis in the middle of the firehouse because he just put two and two together.

And now you have to work with him.

—

For the next few weeks, Buck does his absolute best to avoid you.

It does not work.

Not when you’re both part of the same team, constantly thrown together in high-stress situations. Not when you’re running drills side by side, when you're jammed into the firetruck together, when you’re passing each other in the kitchen at the station.

And definitely not when you start leaning into it.

Nothing obvious—nothing anyone else would notice. Just little things. A brush of fingers when you hand him something. A knowing look when you catch him staring. Lowering your voice just a little when you talk to him, just enough to remind him exactly where he’s heard it before.

It’s driving him insane.

He tells himself to just act normal. To pretend he doesn’t know what you sound like when you’re gasping out his name (well, not his name, but a name). To not think about the way your body looked stretched out in those videos.

It does not go well.

Especially not tonight.

He’s in the locker room, leaning against the metal doors, taking slow, deep breaths. Trying to will away the flush on his face.

“Hey, Buck,”

He groans. “Oh, come on.”

You laugh, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind you. “What? Something wrong?”

He gives you a look. “You know what’s wrong,”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You—” He cuts himself off, rubbing a hand down his face. “You have to stop messing with me,”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He drops his hand, looking at you like you’re the single most frustrating person he’s ever met. Which, fair.

“Because every time you talk, I hear it,” he mutters, voice strained.

You step closer. “Hear what?”

His jaw clenches. His eyes flick to your lips. “You know what.”

Your smile curves slow and wicked. “Oh Buck,” you murmur, voice dropping into that soft, breathy tone he knows too well, leaning in just enough that he can feel the heat of you. “Am I distracting you?”

He makes another one of those strangled noises. You love it.

“I hate you,” he mutters.

You grin. “No, you don’t,”

He swallows hard. “You can’t tell anyone,”

You place a hand on his chest, right over his racing heart. “I won’t,”

His hand catches yours before you can pull away.

There’s a beat of silence. A shift.

The teasing fades, just a little. Enough for something else to slip in.

Something that makes the air go thick between you.

“…What now?” Buck asks, voice rough.

You look at him. Really look at him.

“Depends,” you say softly.

“On?”

You let your fingers trail up, just a little. Over his collarbone. To the side of his neck. You feel the way he shivers.

“How committed you are,” you murmur.

His hand tightens around yours.

And oh.

You are so not done with him yet.

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #oliver stark #evan buckley smut

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