hemmingslftv

[hemmingslftv]

buck + “we kissed last night but we have to pretend like nothing happened”

yay i love this!! i was gonna make these shorter but i got carried away lol. enjoy<3

"we kissed last night but we have to pretend like nothing happened" from this post

"what did you guys do after we all left the bar? anything fun?" hen asks you and buck as you all sit down for dinner at the firehouse. flashes of his body against yours and wandering hands fill your mind, but you quickly push them to the side, keeping your face expressionless.

you and buck both look at each other, and you immediately notice the blush creeping up buck's neck, and the way his eyes widen. so, before you can think, you speak up, not wanting anyone to see his reaction.

"nothing, really. had a few more drinks. played some pool." you tell her before shovelling a fork full of food into your mouth. it would be better to have an extra second to think if anyone has any more questions, anyway.

you barely remembered what happened last night after the rest of the 118 left the bar, not until this morning when you walked into the firehouse and looked into buck's eyes. you had a couple drinks, and when you woke up, you were too busy getting ready for work in your hangover state to even think about it.

it was clear, though, that he had already been thinking about what happened, because when your eyes land on him, you can see the wheels turning in his head and his furrowed brows.

"hey," he begins awkwardly, raising a hand up to rub the back of his neck as he walks towards you, "weird night."

you nod in response, your lips pursed as you close the distance between you two.

"yeah. weird" you reply, crossing your arms over you chest as you try to keep your eyes on his. all you can think about is how good it felt to kiss him; how his hands felt on your hips or cradling your face, and the way his cologne filled your nostrils as you fought for air between kisses.

"we should probably just, like, forget about it. it's kind of against the rules here, anyway," you say before you can think. you really don't want things to be awkward between you two, so you'd rather shut it down now than have buck tell you that it was a one time thing.

he hesitates for a moment, then nods quickly, clearing his throat.

"yeah, yeah. of course. that would probably be best," he gets out, but he can feel the lump in his throat as he lets his eyes trail down your figure, just once.

he's been wanting to make a move on you since you joined the 118, and now that he's finally known what it feels like to kiss you, and have you wrapped in his arms, he doesn't want to let you go. but, he doesn't want to make things weird, so he agrees.

thankfully, no one asks any follow up questions at lunch, and the conversation quickly switches to another topic, but for the rest of the day, their is tension between you and buck.

on every call you have, neither of you can help stealing glances at the other, or getting distracted when your thighs press together on the engine to and from the station.

you get more comfortable with each other again throughout the day; knowing that no one else knows comforts both of you, but neither of you saw that when you answered hen's question about your night together, her and chimney saw buck's reaction and gave each other a knowing look.

[hemmingslftv]

"straddling your lover’s thighs" with Buck

Because oh my god 🥵

YESYESYESYES OKAY. trying hard not to make this nsfw. anyway<3

“straddling your lover’s thighs” from this post

“hold still i’m almost done!” you say with a giggle, watching buck’s nose twitch and his head shake slightly as you apply a face mask to his skin.

when you told him that you were having an “everything shower,” complete with a face mask at the end, buck had no idea what you were talking about. once you told him, he said that he wanted a spa day too, so after you both shower, you pull him to the couch to apply his face mask while your own dries.

you’re straddling his lap; comfortably sitting on him while his hands hold your thick thighs firmly, keeping you in place. when he insisted on doing a face mask with you, he didn’t think you’d end up on his lap, but he wasn’t about to start complaining.

“it’s burning!” he tells you, although he makes no move to get up. he enjoys having your weight on him, and your skin under his fingertips, and even if it is burning, just a little, he doesn’t really want to get up.

“it’s supposed to feel a little hot! you’re being a baby,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. all he does is huff and roll his eyes, and then he finally settles down as you finish applying the face mask. he slowly moves his hands up and down your thighs while his eyes trace every detail of your face that he can see under your own light green mask. the flecks of colour in your eyes, the way your brows furrow in concentration, and the way you hold your breath when you get close to his eyes and lips.

“okay, done.” you say after a minute or two, pulling away from him and getting ready to stand up.

he immediately hums in discontent, and his grip on your thighs tightens to hold you in place.

“don’t these have to stay on for a while?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a smirk.

“yeah, but mine’s almost done.” you say, a smile coming onto your face as you see the playful glint in his eyes.

“just a few more minutes?” he asks with a pout, and all you can do is roll your eyes and laugh before leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss. he happily returns it, and it’s only when his hands move up to your hips and try to move you against him that you have to pull back with a teasing glare.

“i thought you only said a few more minutes?” you ask with a raised brow, smirking. he laughs, shrugging as he squeezes your hips.

“it was worth a shot.”

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 9

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort

Author's notes: I spent my first day of break at work, and I felt bad I didn't get this posted last night!

Masterlist | Taglist

Bobby arrived after giving his statement to the police. He looked absolutely shattered- bloodshot eyes, worry lines etched into his face. Hen had told you that Bobby saw Buck as a son, taking him under his wing. He didn’t say much, occasionally turning to talk to Athena. You hadn’t learned much about her yet— only that she was Bobby’s wife and a police sergeant— but this wasn’t the time nor the place for introductions. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm as she leaned her head against him. Like she was the glue holding him together, bending to fit around his slumped over figure. 

After Maddie had her meltdown, she was able to hold herself together- that was until she had made the call to her parents. She was not looking forward to it. She knew what their answer was going to be. Chimney had convinced her that they deserved to know that Buck was in the hospital. 

You understood her hesitation when she made the call. They weren’t coming. They would call when he was awake. Maddie was silent for a few beats. 

Then she let loose, years of hurt and frustration boiling over. And she did not hold back.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Maddie wasn’t having it.

“Do you know how much this will hurt him? His own parents couldn’t even make it to see him. Scratch that, you aren’t even parents! My brother could have died, Phillip and Margaret, and you can’t take the time to come see him?”

She’d spat out their names, words seething with fire. They tried to speak but she cut them off, not wanting to hear anything else leave their lips.

“Don’t even worry about him. His family is here!” Maddie’s voice breaks with a high note..

You glanced up discreetly, no one daring to look directly at her. She paced along the wall, tearing into her parents. You noticed her pulling on the ends of her sleeve with her free hand, an anxious tick you know all too well.

“I’ll deal with his hurt, like always.”

The fabric stretches as she wraps it around her fist, bringing it to her side. Soon after, she started hitting her thigh, tears in her eyes. 

It’s silent, not even a muffled response through the phone. All of the white noise from the waiting room is seemingly gone. As if time had halted to a stop. 

“I hate you every time his face drops and he—” 

She paused as her voice broke with a hiccup. She takes a deep breath and pushes it out, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing her own hurt.

You closed your eyes, that familiar ache settling in your bones. How could someone disregard their own son, much less someone as kind and loyal as Buck? Someone who yearned for his parent’s love and attention. 

“He deserves so much more. So you know what Mom and Dad?” A short pause, a breath of courage as she mocks them. “Fuck you.”

She hangs up before they can respond. Chimney doesn’t move. No one speaks.  Everyone is on the same page—Maddie needs space. 

She pressed her lips to her covered knuckles, turning to look out the window. Her chest rose with a deep breath, exhaling shakily.Her other arm, wrapped around her torso. She was trying to hold herself together. 

 She tried to make sure that everyone he loved was here. But she couldn’t do that. 

She couldn’t do anything but wait. 

And her heart was breaking. 

It was quiet again after that. You had opened up your phone to catch up on the news. When that got boring, you laid your head back against the wall with your eyes closed. Nurses were talking amongst themselves. You could hear the mechanical lock of a door being opened and then the sound of it shutting with a gentle thud.

Eddie volunteered to go on a food run after his stomach made a loud growl. You were adamant that you weren’t hungry, but he had still gotten you something to eat, that wasn’t a granola bar. You apologized again for your reaction earlier but he laid a hand on your shoulder, looked you in your eyes, and told you not to worry about it. With some gentle coaxing, he had managed to get you to eat a small bag of Cheez-Its.

With each small update that signaled Buck was stable, the waiting room crowd slowly dissipated. At one point, you were counting how many steps it took a person to come or go, the repetitive nature keeping your mind occupied from the negative thought. While some left on calls, others were eager to get out of the hospital, the place that typically meant something bad had happened.

The last update you remember was they were starting to repair the achilles tendon in his leg. That was around 10:45. You were still exhausted from your own trauma the previous week, and staying up this late was already a challenge. But you fought to stay awake. Or at least tried.

The first time you fell asleep, it wasn’t for long. You startled awake with a gasp, covered in cold sweat. You brought your hands to your head, taking even breaths to calm your racing heart. To ease the pounding in your ears.

The nightmare happened again, but with a different twist. This time, Dr. Daniel’s wasn’t on the floor. Buck was. You were so close to getting him into the office, but it was too late. Dead. Both of you. 

You could feel eyes on you. Whose? You weren’t sure. But you had an inkling it was Eddie. You take another deep breath. Your ankle starts to shake back and forth anxiously. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” 

You take another deep breath, now aware that Eddie is watching you. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. You didn’t feel alone. Nor did you feel pressured to tell him about it. 

 You dug your fingertips into the corner of your eyes to help slow the headache coming on. It was strange to think that just 24 hours ago, you were in bed with Buck who was fighting your nightmares off. 

“I used to get them badly after Afghanistan.” Eddie opens up, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Therapy helped a lot. I journaled for a bit, and it was surprisingly useful. It gave me things to remember to talk about in therapy. And getting it out of your head, and onto paper—it makes it easier to process.”

You let it sit out there for a moment. Would it be okay to talk about your trauma when he experienced far worse in Afghanistan? He had technically opened the door, but in comparison to you? 

Stop it. Stop comparing your trauma to others. You deserve your feelings, too. 

The words, a combination from your therapist and Buck, ring in the back of your head. You turn your body to face him, straightening up to present yourself as more open. 

“I haven’t had a real bad one until I went back to campus Monday, and saw Buck.”

“Yeah, I heard someone was your dream catcher last night.” Eddie teases, stretching his legs out. You let out a laugh, louder than you’d like to admit. 

“He called himself my knight in shining turnout gear.”

That gains the attention of a few others, who join in on the laughing. Even Bobby looks a little amused as he rolls an empty coffee cup in between his hands. 

“He’s Prince Charming for sure.” Athena chips in whilst walking back with another cup of coffee for Bobby. “Very endearing, wormed his way into my heart.”

“That was back when Buck stole fire trucks and slep-”

Hen shuts Chimney down fast.

“Nope, not here or now, Chim.”

The second time you fall asleep, you’re gently shaken awake. 

You blink your eyes open slowly. The white of the room is still blinding. You would think they’d dim it down for the night. The faint smell of coffee remains in the air. Your neck is stiff. You exhale sleepily, finding the strength to sit up and force your eyes open. Hen is standing above you.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” 

“Mmhm, what time is it?”

“A little after four.” She responds, standing above you. “He’s out of surgery.”

You’re wide awake now. 

Buck is out. He’s okay.

“For how long?”

“About an hour. They let everyone see him briefly, and we didn’t want to wake you until everyone was done.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know were holding. Tension you were holding in your shoulders slowly starts to melt away.

“Can I see him?”

Hen nods, taking you up to the next floor to see Buck in the ICU. You feel stuck, but instead of unable to move, you want to run down the halls to see him. You don’t have any trouble moving once the elevator reaches the floor. However, the walk down the hall seems longer than it is. 

The room is dark, illuminated by the small light above the bed. The beeping of the heart monitor is steady, a light whoosh of oxygen filling the silence.

Maddie leans across the railing, fingers combing through Buck’s hair. He doesn’t stir.

His leg is held by a sling, cushioned by a pillow. Bandages cover his knee down to his ankle, holding him still. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. You reach for Hen’s arm to steady yourself without thinking. Holding you up when Buck can’t. 

“Oh Evan.” You whisper softly, tilting your head, a sad upturn of your lips settling in.

“He’ll be mostly out of it for the next few hours.” Maddie pauses, tilting her head to briefly look your way. You don’t miss the adoration on her face. “He ordered flowers and was going to bring you coffee and a granola bar for your first day of teaching. He was so proud of his plan.” 

You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry.

God damn it, Buck. You told me you’d be safe. 

“I can go,” you offer, feet frozen in place. You bend your elbows, anxiously playing with your fingers. You don’t want to leave.Your mind is screaming at you to stay. But he’s not your family. 

“No.” She gives a firm shake of her head. “He’d want you here.” 

You don’t know if she’s just being nice. Or if she really wants you here. After today, you hope she does.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t want her to feel pressured to say yes.

“I am.” She motions to the empty seat. “Besides, they think you’re his girlfriend.”

Your heart stutters . Maddie told them you’re his girlfriend? 

“Sit down. I’ll walk Hen out, I have to use the restroom anyway.”

You glance up at Hen, who gives a smile. Courage to move. You carefully sit down.

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as they leave, you reach over to grab his hand, careful not to disturb the IV. His hand is warm, and you carefully wrap your hand around his fingers. . 

You lose yourself in your thoughts. Or maybe you’re just groggy, because you actually aren’t thinking. You’re zoned out. 

You feel like a muscle has moved in his hand. You look down for a few seconds, seeing nothing. You’re imagining things.

Your eyes drift down to his leg, which is bandaged and being held together with pins. After a whole truck fell ontop of him, you were surprised that they didn’t have to amputate his leg. It’s a miracle they were even able to save his leg. 

“Ow.”

Your brows furrow together. Are you hearing things now? 

A low, pained groan gets your attention. Buck’s lashes flutter, eyes fighting to stay open. He barely lifts his head, seeing his leg wrapped up. His face drops in devastation. 

Then he spots you, his eyes lighting up. 

You push yourself up, fingers tightening around his hand as he squeezes back, warm and strong. 

“Hey, don’t move, okay? I’ll get a nurse.” 

“Wait.”

He’s groggy, his voice soft, slow. You keep a hold of his hand, watching him. You stay quiet. Let him take this all in. The dark room. The beeping of machines. The pain. His blue orbs are glossy, confused. It’d be cute if he wasn’t almost crushed to death by a firetruck.

“I tried.”

“I know.” You let go of his hand. Your hands are shaking, nervous at the idea of jolting him wrong and causing him pain. Your fingers lightly graze the skin of his cheek, and when he 

shows no signs of being hurt, you gently lay your palms on his face. You rub your fingers up and down his jawline. He lets his eyes shut. “I heard you asked about me.”

“Mhmm, I did.” Except it comes out as more of a question. It sounds like something he’d do, but he likely doesn’t remember it. You laugh softly, a tear rolling down your cheek. You quickly reach up to wipe it away.

“Kiss me.”

His eyes are open again. With a bite of your lip, your eyes flutter shut. It wouldn’t be right for you to kiss him. Not in this state. He’s still coming out of anesthesia.

“Here.” You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead. Your lips linger, and he leans into your touch. “Ask me again later, okay?”

“Mmmkay.”

“Rest. Maddie will be back soon. She’s going to be so happy that you’re awake.”

A long pause of silence. You sit back down, hand returning to him. He firmly holds onto your hand, and you rub your thumb soothingly across his palm.

“Y/N.”

“Evan.”

“Thank you.”

You think back to earlier, Maddie pacing the length of the waiting room, doing her best to stay cool until she exploded. Maybe, deep in his mind, he knows that his parents aren’t coming. You swallow hard, leaning forward to stroke his cheek. 

“I’ll always be here, Evan.”

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🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 8

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, vomit, can't spoil too much

Authors Notes: Just to let you know, I got this genius idea Sunday morning. May have some plot inaccuracies. I giggled writing this—so good luck!

Masterlist | Taglist

You wait around for what feels like forever after you get home. You let Buck know you got home, and you could practically feel his relief through the text.

Buck had continued to text you on and off throughout the day in between calls. It was short and mostly reaffirming for you that he was okay. You were new to this, and Buck being the empath he is, easily sensed it. 

You spent the remainder of your day taking notes and preparing for your first day of lecture tomorrow. You’d practiced delivering the material, taking note on where you may need to clarify or potential questions you may need to answer. 

The effects of lunch leaves you on cloud nine. You’re confident about tomorrow and you feel renewed, energized. You could also easily attribute your increased energy from last night’s sleep.

You were excited for later in the evening. It meant that Buck would be able to talk more than a few words. He would be able to hold a conversation. If you were lucky, you’d get a phone call. You secretly hoped he wanted to come over again. You would never say no to enjoying his company. 

You take a longer walk than normal to burn off some energy, then indulge in a bath, lighting your favorite candle and playing a movie. You even shave—you know, in case Buck comes over again. You’ll be ready this time. 

You put on the comfiest pajamas you owned. A matching set of pajama pants and a top. Put on your perfume, applying it generously to the pulse points in your wrists and neck. 

As you cooked dinner, you were anticipating a call from him. It was around this time last night that he had contacted you. You had learned that this week was a short week for him, as he was picking up some extra shifts before he had his 24 hour shifts coming up. So he should be messaging you sometime soon. 

You weren’t worried. Not after the way he looked at you today. 

By the time you’ve finished cooking your chicken and vegetable skillet, it’s dark out and past the time he contacted you yesterday. He must be on a call still, you think. 

You curl up on the couch with dinner, blanket wrapped around your legs. You turn on the local news. There’s a flashing headline at the bottom of the screen. Your chest tightens, ribs closing in on you. You can’t get enough air.

Firefighter Trapped Under Firetruck. 

You read the statement again before it’s gone. 

Someone under a firetruck? No, that couldn’t be. Why would a fire truck be tipped over in the first place? Maybe it’s something else. It was worded wrong, right?

You want to tear your eyes away, just long enough to regain the pacing of your breathing. You’re starting to hyperventilate. Your heart is working overtime. 

But you can’t look away. You need to see if you recognize if it is anyone that you know. 

You watch, waiting in anticipation. You turn the volume up. They give a brief run down on the situation unfolding. You catch fragmented pieces of it as your mind fights between a state of fear and numbness. 

It slowly sets in. You know firefighters.You were just eating lunch with the 118 a few hours ago. Buck, Eddie, Chimney, Hen, they were all fine. Buck had texted you later on that he had convinced Bobby to come by for lunch even though he was technically suspended. So he wasn’t there. None of them were there. 

It’s selfish, but you pray it isn’t them. You even convince yourself that tragedies happen like this all the time, and this was another station. It doesn’t help, though. 

They zoom in on the person trapped under the fire truck. A man lies there. You lean in closer to ease your anxieties.  To know that it isn’t Buck or any of the crew. 

Short hair. Blood. The birthmark above his right eye.

Buck.

Your vision goes. Black spots. The room is out of focus.

Too hot. Trapped. 

Your stomach clenches. You shove the blanket off. 

You need air. You can’t get any.

Buck lays there, leg pinned underneath the truck. They have a cervical collar around his neck, and first responders are surrounding him. 

You feel dizzy, lightheaded. You dig your fingers into the arm of the couch to ground yourself. The bowl is knocked onto the floor. 

He’s underneath the truck. You want to throw up. 

They’re working around him, trying to lift the truck up enough to pull him out from underneath it. They pan away, and a small part of you is relieved that you don’t have to see Buck suffering. The other part of you is anxious to watch every move. 

You can’t imagine the absolute pain he’s in. The thought of his pained cries is the final straw. You can’t hold back the urge to vomit anymore. You feel it rising in your chest. 

You push yourself up, stumbling to the bathroom. You’re lightheaded, barely making it in front of the toilet before you drop to your knees. You may have a fear of throwing up, but that’s nowhere near the forefront of your mind. 

You retch up the food that you had eaten earlier. The food that he made. 

He’s underneath the truck. 

You empty your stomach. You’re sobbing hysterically. You dry heave, choking on your tears. Eventually you flush the toilet. Collapse back against the tub. Bring your knees to your chest. Let out loud sobs. 

This can’t be happening. Not now. This isn’t fair. 

A week. Not enough time to know him. If something happens to him—you don’t know you’d survive. 

You have to get up. You need to be strong. Just like he was for you.

You brush your teeth, rinse with mouthwash. Before, you were starving. But now? Food’s the last thing on your mind. You need to get to Buck. 

You need to call someone. But who?  You don’t have anyones number. And you shouldn’t- 911- 911 is for real emergencies. For people who actually need help. Not this. Not you. 

But this is an emergency. Isn’t he? The selfish part of you doesn’t care. You need to talk to someone on the team. You need to know where Buck is. 

You type in the number, praying Maddie is at the call center tonight. 

Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?”

You: “I need Maddie Buckley. Please.”

Dispatcher: “Ma’am, I cannot connect you to a specific operator. Are you in danger?”

You: “Her brother, he’s—please get Maddie now”

Dispatcher: Hold on.

There are muffled noises, typing, silence. 

You think maybe she has hung up. Then you hear her. She’s just as nervous as you.

“This is Maddie.”

“Maddie. Where is he? Who can I call? I don’t have anyone’s number, and I know I shouldn’t have called this number because it’s not an emergency, but- I have to get to him. He got to me, and if something happens-”

“Hey, take a few deep breaths for me, okay?” she pauses, and you hear typing, fast, hard. You hear a sniffle, her voice breaking “I’m going to uh, pick you up in a few minutes. You’re on the way to the hospital.”

Another long pause. You’re crying again. 

It’s her brother. You’re not even his girlfriend, you’re just some random girl he found in the aftermath of a school shooting.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She’s firmer than you would be in the moment, but you hear a sniffle, a tell tale sign that she’s also started crying. The reality of the situation is setting in for her, too. ““I’ll see you soon. I— he’d uh want you there.”

“Okay.”

She lets you know that she is about to clock out now, verifying your address before she lets you go. 

You gather the basics. Your laptop, charger, a spare change of clothes, deodorant. Shove it into a bag. You might be there all night. 

No. You will. 

You won’t sleep. Your peaceful slumber last night won’t happen again. Not if he-

No, don’t think like that. He’ll be fine. You’ll be there— until he doesn’t want you. 

The insecurity crosses your head briefly, but you push it away. You grab your keychain, leaving the lights on and the bowl of food abandoned, scattered on the floor. 

The wait in the lobby is torturous. It feels like time is moving slowly, and you are stuck. You can’t move. You want to move. Everything around you is moving fast, and you’re just still. You want to get to safety. To Buck. 

The feeling is all too similar to that day in the office. The day where you remained in the office, blood on your hands and shirtless while everyone rushed around to tend to the hurt. You were frozen, left there. And Buck brought you out of it. 

Your hands feel sticky. You look down, expecting to see something on them. They’re clean. You want to scrub your hands clean. You don’t have time to go to the bathroom. You don’t know when the cop will be here. You rub your hands on your pajama bottoms. 

You feel the occasional glance towards you. You know you’re a mess. You feel the air drying the tear tracks on your cheeks, the burning sensation of your red eyes, your clogged nostrils as you sniffle. 

Your leg is bouncing. Fingers fiddling with each other, picking at the skin around your nails. Your eyes dart around, trying to bring you back down to reality as you search for something to meet your five senses. It’s not helping. You’re afraid that you might actually go over the deep end this time. 

You don’t know how much time has passed. The concept of time is strange. 

You jump when Maddie steps in front of you, calling your name. You see her watery eyes, getting up to grab her into a hug. For a moment you forget about your own anxieties, going into caretaker mode to soothe Maddie. Her brother could have easily died tonight, and your own feelings subside for the moment. 

You don’t remember walking to her car, or getting into the passenger seat. The ride is a blur, too. A low hum of music fills the car. Neither of you speak. An outsider would say you’re both in shock, and neither of you should be driving. 

You’re broken out of your dissociation as she turns into the parking lot of the hospital. The parking lot closest to the hospital is full, so you end up in a parking lot a little off campus. 

The air feels nice against your warm skin, drying any remaining signs of tears. You want to say something, but it feels safer to just remain quiet.

The ride up the elevator is slow. You’re leaned against a metal bar as if you need to be held up. Your legs feel like putty. The lights are too bright. The elevator pings. You jump. Maddie reaches over to touch your arm, rubbing up and down.

You step out, legs heavy, as if you had just ran a marathon to get here.

The waiting room is filled with firefighters. 

Too quiet. Too still. Too serious.

The air is tense. A coffee cup is brought up to someone’s lip, a foot tapping anxiously. The faint sound of a radio. Everyone’s lost in their thoughts.

Hen glances up from looking down, elbow on her knees. Her eyes widened, surprised to see you, before being replaced with concern.

Is it that bad?

You can’t cry anymore. You try but fail to put a brave face on. 

“How is he?” Maddie questions, the grip on her purse tight, fingers turning white. 

“He’s a fighter, in surgery now. He lost a lot of blood in the field and the last update we got was that they’re doing an emergency fasciotomy to see if they can save his leg.”

“What happened? I turned on the news and a fire truck was tripped over. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t you guys until — I saw his birthmark. I couldn’t breathe.” 

“A bomber planted a bomb in the truck, trying to kill Bobby. He didn’t know Bobby was suspended and Buck was in the truck.”

“Let’s get you both a seat and some water.” Hen keeps a hand on your arm as she guides you to the corner everyone is huddled in. She sits you down before crouching to look at you. “Have you eaten? Hey Eddie, could you get some water for these two?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You watch him walk away. The way he holds himself isn’t confident or sturdy, a stark comparison to this afternoon. His best friend is in surgery, and he’s stuck running errands for you. Chimney comes around the corner, spotting Maddie. He rushes over, crouching down in front of her. She breaks down, leaning forward to bury her face in the crook of his neck. 

You dig your face into your hands, forcing your eyes shut. Your head is pounding, a tight band wrapping around your temple, extending to the back of your head. Your mind is screaming at you, feeling selfish for making these people take care of you. You don’t even know that you should be here. 

“That boy is wrapped around your finger.” Hen chuckles, a creak letting you know she is now by you. “Even under that truck, leg crushed, bleeding out, he was asking about you. Wanted to make sure you didn’t find out from the news. Made Athen promise to call you.”

You scoff, shaking your head. He was thinking of you, the thought of keeping you steady. In contrast, you’re a complete mess. 

“I panicked and called 911,” you admit bashfully. “I didn’t know if Maddie was working or not. But I needed to know where he was.”

“We’ll make sure that everyone has each other’s number after this, okay?” 

You nod in agreement, leaning back. Eddie is back with bottles of water shortly after. You take it, thanking him softly. He sits with the group, most people standing and talking amongst themselves. 

“Did you eat? Are you hungry?”

“I ate half a bowl of my dinner.” A smile graces your face, eyes crinkling. You’re not happy, but if you don’t laugh, you might get closer to being admitted to the ward. “I think the rest of it got spilled on the floor when I went to throw up. But it’s okay, I’m not hungry now.”

“Are you sure? I grabbed Buck’s extra granola bar that I found in our truck.”

You bite your lip, taking a deep breath. Your resolve is melting as two pairs of eyes are set on you. Maddie’s sobs and Chimney’s words of comfort sound far away. You know Eddie was trying to be sweet and take care of you. To force you to eat something. You’re shaking again. 

“I have to- I can’t —  I can’t teach. I , I’ll be —.”

You partially excuse yourself, stumbling down the hall to find a bathroom. You need to throw up again. You would have thought that you were drunk by the way you’re moving, holding onto the wall as you follow the sign for the bathroom. 

You push the door open when you find it, practically falling into the bathroom. You don’t hear Hen calling your name, hot on your tail. 

Your stomach doesn’t know you have nothing to throw up, just following your nervous system’s orders as your mind kicks into overdrive. 

You narrowly make it into a stall before sinking to your knees, pressing your forehead against your arms.

You can’t lose him. You just found him. 

You try to breathe through the nausea. 

The first heave is dry, painful. The second, bile burns your throat. The third, a sob. 

You collapse against the door. Your head tilts back, looking at the ceiling. You beg someone, anyone, to keep him here. With you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

You swallow hard, the taste of bile sour in your mouth. She doesn’t say anything right away. Footsteps. She’s getting closer. A soft exhale before speaking again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

You're shaking your head no before you can stop yourself. 

“It’s okay.” You shakily lie through your teeth. A few more breaths, unsure if you’re telling her or convincing yourself. “I’m fine.”

Your eyes close and you take the largest inhale you can before exhaling sharply, unable to hold onto it for a few seconds. 

You push yourself up, opening the stall. Hen steps out of your way. You rinse your mouth before washing your hands. 

“I just need a minute.”

You gaze at your reflection. Red-eyes. Damp skin. A stranger.

Buck wouldn’t want this. 

But Buck isn’t here.

And you don’t know how to be okay if he’s not here.

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🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 7

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff, slow-burning tension is about to erupt soon

Author's notes: I have made it a challenge to make it to at least chapter 8 without breaking the tension, and we may make it just a wee bit longer..... P.S. It is so hard to find plus size images out there, so L media.

Masterlist | Taglist

Buck took the reserved seat next to you as everyone gathered around the table to eat. The first few bites were silent minus some small talk amongst the crew. Compliments to the chef flowed freely, and Buck ate the praise up, beaming with pride. It was cute and made you swell with your own pride and joy for him. 

Then Chimney starts the conversation. Or attempts to, keeping his eyes glued to your side of the table. 

“So how did everyone sleep last night? Or didn’t sleep?”

Your stomach churns. Your heart stops, then pounds in your chest. Your fight or flight mode kicks in, anxiety level climbing with each passing second. 

Of course he would ask that. Maddie didn’t seem like the type to share what someone confided in her. Not even to her partner. Maybe Buck shared it out of pride. Or exictement. 

Regardless, you see what Maddie said. Chimney liked to poke at Buck. To stir the pot. 

You anxiously look over at Buck. Are his cheeks as red as yours? But he remains calm. HIs eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t look embarrassed. Not even annoyed. Maybe he’s used to it. But you aren’t. You know you’re red. Your temperature rises and you want to bury your face in Buck’s shoulders. 

If it wasn’t so early in the relationship, you would have done it. Inhaled his scent, felt his warmth against your cheek. 

Woah. Relationship? Slow down. There is no label. Not yet. 

The conversation with Hen and Maddie invades your thoughts.

 It was when Buck would ask you out, not if. 

You shake the thought away. You look around the table for others' reactions. 

Hen’s face is similar to Buck’s. She already knows where this is going. Eddie is trying to mind his own business as he eats his food. He avoids looking your way. Bobby gives a sympathetic sigh when you make eye contact. He really was a dad dealing with his kid’s antics. 

You knock your knee with Buck’s. His response is to move closer to you, wrapping his foot around your ankle. You turn your head, forgetting the teasing for just a moment. You mouth thank you, feeling that he was grounding the both of you.

Maddie picks up on your uncomfortableness and Buck’s slight annoyance. She raises her chest with a deep breath, pushing it out. You mimic her, remembering that she said that she would act as a buffer if you got uncomfortable.

“I slept fine.” She says, pausing from eating a fry, waving in Chimney’s direction. “In fact, you were snoring in your sleep. Poor Chimney must have had a really hard shift yesterday.”

A laugh erupts, and it’s from Eddie, who almost chokes on his food. He brings his hand up to cover his mouth. Hen follows in suit,laughing as she starts her bantering with Chimney. 

“I told you you snore!” 

“I do not.” Chimney scoffs, taking a drink of his water.

“You sure do.” Maddie smiles, giving a wink to the two of you. She successfully changed the conversation and ended it very easily. Chimney must have felt the underlying message Maddie sent- leave them alone.

You lean into Buck, turning your head to whisper in his ear. 

“Your sister is a life saver.”

His hand travels under the table, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. It’s not meant to be sexual, just a sign of agreement. But, with the size of his hand and where he grabbed your leg, his fingertips graze the inner part of your thigh. 

Thus, you ignore the action, reasoning with yourself that he didn’t mean to come across that way. So you push the thought out of your head. You don’t notice it, but your breathing becomes more shallow, pupils dilating, classic signs of attraction and arousal. 

When you pull away from his ear, he’s already looking at you. His face is marked with something you hadn’t seen before. You know that staring at him is not going to help the teasing. But you can’t pull your gaze away. You’re too focused trying to decipher how he’s looking at you. 

You feel the normal warmth in the slight upturn of his lips. He’s curious, gauging your reaction. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, smiling shyly at him. His gaze is intense, deep. His eyes are slowly scanning your face. His eyes light up, crinkling at the corners.

Your first thought is something is on your face. You grab for your napkin, wiping your mouth before he can reach over to clean it with his thumb. His face falters for a moment, reacting with a breathy chuckle. So he found your flustered nature amusing? Cute?

Time seems like it's moving slowly. 

Now, he’s holding himself back. You’re not sure what he wants to say, or... do? You swear you see him glance at your lips, eyes hooding over. But he takes a deep breath, pushing it out as shakily as he did last night. 

IYou can’t place your finger on the deeper look in his eyes, and it is driving you insane.  Attraction? Longing? Something deeper? No, you’re not ready to acknowledge that. Not yet. Because then, this would be real.

The moment is interrupted with a clearing of a throat followed with a short, firm ‘Chimney, don’t.’ from Bobby. A giggle escapes your throat at the scolding. When you look up, the group pretends that they weren’t paying attention to the two of you, like they didn’t just observe you and Buck in your own little world. 

You wait for him to pull his hand back, but he doesn’t. He keeps his palm firmly planted against the meat of your thigh. You sigh softly as his thumb starts to rub soothing circles. He acts like this is normal, joining in on conversation. He continues to eat with one hand, surprising considering that his dominant hand is currently holding you down alongside his foot. 

  You turn back to your food, looking down at the plate with a smile. You don’t dare look up right away, recovering from the intense, silent conversation exchanged between the two of you as you take another bite of the slider on your plate. 

The longer that his thumb rubs your thigh, switching between circles and a back and forth swiping motion, the harder it becomes to ignore the thoughts. Thoughts that friends shouldn’t have about each other. 

This isn’t just friendship. And if you aren’t careful… you’re going to fall.

The contact is just enough to send a pang of arousal to your core. You instinctively want to grab his hand, and guide him closer to your inner thigh. To let him rub all he wants, wherever he wants…

That would definitely cross a line. It would be inappropriate. But it would feel good.

  You turn back to your food, looking down at the plate with a smile. You don’t dare look up right away, recovering from the intense, silent conversation exchanged between the two of you. 

The rest of lunch went by pretty smoothly after that. You were surprised that the team did not get a call within the hour you were there- not that you were complaining. You actually enjoyed yourself and they actively tried to engage in conversation with you. 

You felt a bit sad when Buck removed his hand from your thigh, liking the domestic, intimate touch. But instead, he leaned back to get more comfortable in the chair. Then, he casually extended his arm behind you, resting it on top of the chair. He was smooth, and it made you euphoric once again.

You didn’t learn much about the boys in comparison to what you did about Maddie and Hen. But could you blame them? They had just met you. Besides, it felt like Bobby and Eddie tend to be more reserved at first while Chimney and Buck weren’t afraid to put themselves out there. 

Chimney was the jokester of the crew. You had to admit, you liked Chimney’s humor- his sarcasm a cover for his genuine affection for Buck. The lines rolled off of his tongue easily, and Buck was getting flustered. You kept brushing his arm with your hand, signaling that it was okay. You weren’t getting embarrassed by it, and neither should he. 

 It was family-like, something you didn’t realize you were missing until now. 

And when Chimney wasn’t engaged in table talk, he was doting on Maddie. It was cute, and before now you would have thought it to be too much. Now, finding these small acts of love was a sure sign that Buck really was breaking down the protective measures you had created to avoid the ache of loneliness. 

You learned that Eddie was a single dad to his son Christopher. They had moved from Texas to start afresh once he got out of the military. His eyes lit up everytime he mentioned Christopher. He was full of pride, his voice gentle, warmer than his exterior showed. Christopher was the best thing he had done in his life, and was the thing that kept him going. And from the way everyone talked about him, you could tell he was a kind hearted kid and could light up any room.

 Eddie had also shared how close Buck and Chris were, and it made you even more excited about the possibility of meeting him in the future. You wanted to see just how well Buck was with kids. 

Slow down. Way too far ahead.                                    

Buck walked you to your car after saying your goodbyes to everyone. He opened your door, and the old you would have protested about being independent, but you could get used to this treatment. 

You didn’t have to think about doing the basics when Buck was with you. You could turn your brain off and let him do the heavy lifting, so to speak- and he was more than willing to do so. You didn’t trust most people, and maybe that’s why you tended to rely on yourself and not others. But you could rely on Buck.

He’s leaned against the car, forearm resting on the top of the door frame as you buckle yourself in. 

“Text me to let me know you got back fine. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, I will.” 

You pause, trying to come up with something witty on the spot to ease the tension between you. 

You want to bring up the moment of silence earlier, the way he was looking at you, but that’s for another time. A time when he wasn’t on the clock. Besides, it might be beneficial to take the time to process it. 

“You wanna know something, Buck?”

“Hmmm, sure.”     

“I think it’s cute that you’re a big softie underneath all that fire equipment. You run into fires like it’s nothing, but one look at me and you practically melt.”

He leans in closer, crossing both arms above his head. His biceps are flexed, fingers tapping the roof of the car. He shifts his weight onto his front leg, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

 He dramatically rolls his eyes, sending you back to when Maddie did it earlier. Their mannerisms were eerily similar, and you wondered if there was more to their story. If Maddie raised him more than his own parents.

His humorous response drags you back into reality. He rocks back and forth, clearly enjoying the teasing between the two of you. 

“Oh, so you think you’re funny now?” 

With a glint of mischief in your eye, you nod your head.

“I know I am.”

He chuckles softly, eyes boring into yours. There is a long pause. His face softens, and the same look from earlier is his eyes. Your heart skips a beat.

“Promise me you’ll drive safely.”

His voice is lower, soft. His breath brushes against your cheek, warm and steady. 

“I promise,” you murmur, grip tightening on the wheel. You want to pull him down, to thank him for caring about you. To kiss away his worries. You inhale deeply.

“I enjoyed having you here.”

He pauses, reaching a hand down to wipe off a few beads of sweat off of his forehead. It wasn’t that hot out. Was he feeling as hot and bothered as you?

 “Thank you for coming. It means alot for you to meet them.”

“Thanks for inviting me. I had fun and the food was good.”

“Yeah? I think the chef would like to cook for you again.”     

“Well, I would like that. I think I’d like to cook for the chef, too.”

“I’ll have to let him know.” 

You’re beaming at the flirting. You couldn’t remember the last time you were hit on, besides when you went out and the occasional perv tried to pick you up.

“Alright, I should go so you can get back to work.” you straighten up in the seat, tugging on the seatbelt to show him it is snug before repeating the same sentiment he gave you. “Be careful, please. I know it is your job, but-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I even have this device that sends an alarm if it senses no movement from me after 30 seconds.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll uh, text you when I get home.”

He gives a firm nod of his head. He steps back, closing your door. He pats the side of the door, smiling one last time. You turn the car as he slowly walks away. You watch him safely cross the road before you pull off. 

You look into the rearview mirror with a final glance. 

Buck stands there, shielding his eyes from the sun, watching until you’re out of sight. And in that moment you realize- you’ll never be able to leave him. 

And he’ll never let you go. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 6

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none, fluff, an official meeting of the team, Buck is a flirt

Author's notes: This is a bit short, but it was a natural stopping point! I'd love some comments on how this is going so far. Enjoy!

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You glance across the street at the fire station- the same one you were at yesterday, parked in the exact same spot. Shifting in your seat, you smooth down your hair and fix the little touch of eye makeup that you put on earlier. You opted for a comfortable yet presentable outfit, enough to show you made an effort without overdoing it. 

Your hands are clammy, a mixture of the heat of the steering wheel and nerves. You’re not worried about Buck. Or even making a fool of yourself. It’s the fear of intruding- on their lunch, their space, their time away from emergencies and public interaction. 

Sure, Buck had invited you, but you weren’t sure if his teammates would be okay with it. You would feel awkward and embarrassed if you were turned away. But you think it would be even worse if they let you stay despite being unwelcome.

12:10. 

Buck told you to show up around 12:15.

The last thing you wanted to do was leave a bad impression by being late.

Looking in the mirror one last time, you tell yourself that you’ll be fine. That Buck will be there to protect you. 

Your knight in shining turnout gear. 

You take a deep breath to push the anxiety out of your chest. 

With your laptop bag in your hand, you exit the car. While you cross the street, you wipe one hand on your clothed thighs before shifting the bag to your other hand to wipe the remaining hand. 

Walking up the concrete slab, you see Chimney half inside of the back of an ambulance, restocking supplies. Beside him, a woman with brown hair stands near the open doors. She’s not in uniform. She’s visiting or off duty, you assume.

For the second day in a row, you feel awkward showing up. This time, you have no goods to offer. Just yourself and your laptop. 

“Ah, you must be y/n, ” the woman says, spotting you as you step closer. She smiles warmly. “Buck said you’d be coming. I’m Maddie, his sister.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you, Maddie.”

Chimney looks back , throwing a hand up with a smile. He puts what appears to be a saline bag in a cabinet before leaning out.

“Hey Buckaroo! Your date- oh sorry, I mean guest- is here!”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He lets out a laugh, hopping down out of the ambulance. 

Maddie shakes her head as she reaches out, lightly touching your arm in a comforting gesture. The warm nature must be genetic.

“Ignore him. He loves messing with Buck. But I have to admit, it’s nice to finally meet the person who put him in such a good mood.”

You smile at the praise. They noticed a shift in his mood? Buck always seemed naturally carefree, but being the reason behind his extra happiness gives you butterflies. 

“Here, I’ll take you upstairs.” 

You silently follow Maddie towards the stairs, your heart rate picks up. This time, it’s not from nerves. It was the anticipation that you were getting closer to where Buck was. 

Regardless, Maddie must feel some lingering apprehension, because she stops midway up the stairs, facing you as she leans a hip against the wall. 

“Don’t let them overwhelm you. They’re harmless and mean well. Just be yourself.” She smiles warmly. “They love teasing, so don’t feel afraid to join in. And if you ever feel like it’s too much, you can find me. Okay?”

You nod an affirmative okay. You feel more comfortable, knowing that you now have two people watching out for you, and it just so happens that they’re siblings. 

Once you reach the top of the stairs and round the corner, you’re unable to wipe the smile off of your face.

 Buck dons an apron and a chef hat, standing over a pan of what looks to be fries, shaking seasoning across them. Eddie is leaning across the counter on his elbows, in a conversation with Buck.

“Everyone, this is y/n, Buck’s friend.”

Buck’s head pops up at the sound of your name. His blue eyes meet yours. You feel all eyes on you, which would normally bother you. But in this case? How can you care when Buck is looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the room?

You quickly snap out your trance with a shy wave, shifting your laptop bag in front of you. The insecurity about your body creeps in again.

“Hi. I hope you guys don’t mind me being here.”

“Any friend of Buck’s is welcome here,” Eddie looks at you before turning his attention to the table “right Cap?”

“I don’t see why not. Nice to meet you,” he stands up from his spot at the table, reaching a hand over. You step forward to grasp it firmly, giving a proper handshake. “I’m Captain Bobby Nash, but you can just call me Bobby.”

“Nice to meet you too, Bobby.”

“I think you’ve met everyone else before,” Buck says, “And I see you’ve met my sister.”

You glance over at Maddie, and she senses your reservation.

“Yes, I can already tell she is going to be a great addition.”

Addition. 

That insinuates that she believes you will be around more after today.

“Also, Maddie and Chimney are dating.” Eddie offers, reaching across the counter to steal a fry. Buck slaps his hand away, but Eddie is a bit too quick with his reflexes, grabbing one last minute. 

A laugh escapes your throat when Buck looks at you, shaking his head at the audacity of his teammate. Eddie tries to seize the opportunity to grab another fry, but Buck beats him, pulling the tray off the counter.

“Here, sit down,” Hen says, pulling a chair out next to her.  “You can sit here. Everyone, this seat is reserved for Buck.”

You go to place the laptop bag on the floor, but Maddie swoops in, grabbing the laptop and taking it to a safer place. You thank her, taking the seat next to Hen. You straighten your back against the chair, not wanting to be hunched over. If public speaking taught you anything, confidence is all in your body language and head. 

“Do you want something to drink? We have water, coffee… could make some tea,” Eddie lists off. “Oh-Buck has a few Body Armors stashed away that he is weirdly protective of, but he’d definitely let you have one.” 

You laugh, offering a teasing comment of your own. Buck was right, these people weren’t going to bite you. You sensed you were going to be okay. 

“I’m sensing some jealousy.” 

Hen cackles as Bobby offers a soft chuckle. He seems like the fatherly type, taking care of grown kids. And he seems to enjoy doing so. 

“Oh yeah, those two? Total bromance. But you don’t have to worry, Buck’s already wrapped around your finger.” 

“What would you like to drink?” Buck interjects before Hen can keep going on, his neck and cheeks becoming a light shade of red. 

You tell him your preferred drink, and he brings it to you. 

“Thought I'd let you save your precious drink.”

Buck shakes his head, handing you the drink. His fingers barely graze yours, but it’s just enough to send sparks up your spine. Then he leans in, mouth close to your ear, his warm breath caressing the back of your neck. 

“He’s right.” he murmurs low. “I definitely would have given you one.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep your composure. You feel the room heating up. 

That bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He pulls back with a wink before retreating to the kitchenette. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. You miss Maddie’s playful roll of her eyes as she sits on the other side of Hen. 

The two men go back into their own world, but you don’t have to look up to know Buck is occasionally sneaking glances towards you. Or overhear Eddie’s teasing.

“So tell us about yourself.” 

You turn in to look at the two women. You tell them where you're from and why you chose to come to California before delving into your current life.

“I’m a graduate assistant at California State, majoring in Political Science. I’m 22, I like to go on walks, craft, and bake. I’m working on liking cooking, but it’s not exactly my favorite.”

“What do you like to bake?”

“I like to make cookies and bread, like banana bread or zucchini bread,” you answer Maddie, “Not sourdough or anything like that. And I don’t mind making pies.”

“Mmhmm, so double the sweet treats,” Hen says, giving you a sincere, wise look. “The past day and a half, that boy has gone on and on about you. I don’t know what spell you put on him, but it’s working. I’d bet money he’s asking you out soon.”

“No spell,” you reply, genuinely opening up to them. “It’s like a movie. With Buck it’s just easy. Like I’ve known him for a long time and we just click. And I know it sounds dumb, but he mentioned fate and honestly?” 

You steal a glance at Buck. You can’t help but grin at the sight of him in the chef hat and apron. He looks dorky, but it fits him. And the best part? He is taking his role as chef very seriously. 

“I think he might be right. It just feels….like we’ve done this before. He stayed over last night because I had a nightmare, and it didn’t feel rushed for him to come over and share my bed. And when I woke up?” you contemplate telling the two the truth, taking a second before deciding to go for it “He was spooning me.”

Maddie looks behind you, a glint in her eye as the corners of her mouth turn up. Based on that look, you’re sure that Chimney has joined the group. A thought enters your head- do you look at Buck the same way his sister looks at her boyfriend?

“He’s such a gentleman, and I hope that this isn’t too weird talking about your brother, Maddie.”

“Not at all! I think it’s cute. It’s rare to have that instant connection, but it exists.” She pauses, leaning in a little and lowering her voice “Besides, If anyone would fall head over heels in love at first sight, it’d be Buck.”

She laughs and you catch a nod of agreement from Bobby at the end of the table, who must be catching some of the conversation. Hen clasps her hands together, leaning back in amusement.

“My wife, Karen, would be all over this. She’s always trying to play matchmaker.”

“What about you guys? What’s your story?”

Maddie starts, telling you about how she used to be a trauma nurse in Boston before she moved closer to LA to get away from her ex-husband and to be closer to Buck, as she hadn’t seen him over three years and it pained her to be away from him. She reaches up to wipe a few tears, and you know that there is something more to that story. But now is not the place to share that, let alone tell someone that when you first meet them. Now she’s a 9-1-1 operator and is loving being closer to her brother, finding Chimney, and the friends she’s made along the way.

Hen, on the other hand, used to be a pharmaceutical sales representative. She felt the job was unfulfilling and she wanted to have a better impact on people’s lives. When her life coach had a heart attack during a session with Hen, she used her CPR certification to save her, and it was then that she decided to become a first responder. In addition, she and her wife have a nine year old son named Denny, and she pulls up a picture of her small family. You fawn over it, commenting on how good of a photo it is and expressing how beautiful Denny’s curls are. 

“We should have a girl’s night in the future. My wife enjoys hosting and would love to meet you. You can also meet Cap’s wife, Athena.”

“I could totally bring pictures of Evan when he was younger! There’s this one photo where-”

“And lunch is done!” Buck declares, ironically right before Maddie was going to share what you assume to be an embarrassing photo. 

“Go on, ladies first.” Bobby says as he looks up from the paper he’s writing on. 

Buck lingers in the kitchen as everyone makes a plate. Eddie has moved over next to Buck, this time a shushed conversation occurring. You have an inkling that they’re talking about you- well Eddie is. Your thoughts are verified when Buck punches him in the bicep with a smile.

[hemmingslftv]

A Strangers Jacket: Part 5

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word: 3.1k

Warnings: So much fluff

Masterlist | Taglist

You lie on your side of the bed, muscles tense, worried that you’ll cross into Buck’s side of the bed if you relax. While you struggle, Buck lies on his stomach, out cold.

Sleep sounds frightening. What if you had another nightmare? Or wake Buck up?

You’re envious of how quick he fell asleep. Of course, his job was physically demanding- crashing as soon as his head hit the pillow made sense. But it didn’t make lying awake next to him any less frustrating. 

His jaw is soft, lips slightly parted, cheek pressed against the pillow. There is a slight crease in his forehead, and you want to smooth it out with the pad of your thumb, brush against the birthmark above his eye.

You shift carefully, trying to get comfortable. Most sleepless nights, you’d toss and turn until exhaustion took over. But tonight, with Buck beside you, that wasn’t an option.

It’d been easy to crawl into bed, no real fuss about sharing the oversized comforter. You agreed that Buck could take his shirt off and he stayed in his grey sweats despite the warm temperature outside.

 Then he stepped out of the bathroom, sweatpants hung low on his hips, muscles defining his V line and abdomen. You swore the room got hotter. 

When you used the bathroom to brush your teeth after him, you took the opportunity to gather your thoughts and cool down. You ran cold water and put your wrists under to calm down, but the lingering smell of Buck made it even harder to chill out.

You kept your bra on to make things less awkward. But now, it feels restrictive. You can’t relax.

You immediately apologized to Buck for not shaving your legs the past few days before you climbed into bed. Buck just smiled with a light chuckle, which actually made you feel a little more confident in sharing a bed. 

“You think that bothers me? It’s natural. Besides, I regularly see blood and gore. Body hair isn’t anything to worry about.”

Slowly you realized Buck wouldn’t care if you took it off. Buck wanted you to be comfortable in your own bed, in fact, his words in the kitchen were meant to be reaffirming. 

He was such a gentleman, prioritizing your own needs before his. 

You finally cave in, needing to fall asleep eventually. You sit up to take the fabric off, pulling it over your head before tossing it to the floor. You were relieved, nothing digging into your skin.

You lay your head back down on the pillow, spreading out. You barely graze Buck’s leg but you pull back quickly, wanting to respect his space. 

Practicing your breathing exercises, you are so close to falling over the edge into sleep when the bed shifts. Your eyes flutter open to see he has rolled over slightly, putting his body closer to yours. In fact, he has positioned his body so close to yours, that you expect heat to be radiating heat off of him. Instead he’s cool, back rising and falling with each breath. 

You hold your breath, waiting for him to shift again. With no quick movement, you ignore it. You let out a breath, closing your eyes again as you snuggle your head back into the crook of your neck. 

You nearly jump when his arm flings across your torso. You stiffen, eyes flicking to his face. You search for any signs of him being awake. But his eyes stay closed, breaths the same.

Your mind goes blank. His arm tightens around you, fingers brushing against you with each breath. A reassurance that he’s there, even in his sleep. You feel his heart against your side. The rhythm of his heart is soft, breathing hushed.

 You should feel awkward. A line has been crossed. You should wake him up. Roll over. 

You’re not sure that he would cuddle you if he were awake. But if he wasn’t comfortable with you, why would he be lying next to you? 

Your mind should be racing. Instead, you yawn, melting under his touch, mirroring his slow, even breaths as your body gives in. 

You wrap your hand around his forearm, holding onto him. Afraid that if you let go, he’ll roll over, leaving you cold. 

You’re grounded. Safe. Warm. At peace. 

Not alone.  

His hair is a slight mess, and even though his hair is shorter, hints of curls pop up. You instinctively raise your hand to smooth it down. You stop yourself mid air. It’s hard to ignore the urge to run your fingers through it. And if you smooth his hair down, it’d make this even more complicated. As if your mind isn’t already struggling to process all of this. So you put your hand down.

How are you going to be able to sleep alone after tonight? 

The question lingers in your mind, but the answer doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you’ve found comfort in Buck. That despite not knowing him for more than a culmination of a few hours, you feel protected. Bonded. 

His steady breaths and grip around your waist drowns out the looming threat of another nightmare, keeping you warm in the best way possible. 

For the first time in a week, you feel yourself sinking further into the bed, skin melting against his. You aren’t in fight or flight mode. 

You bask in the moment, finally drifting into the best sleep you’ve had in a long time. Scratch that, it was more than sleep. You felt like you could finally rest. 

With a smile gracing your face, too. 

*********

You come out of sleep briefly, a small moment in your sleep cycle that has you awake without registering it. You feel warm, the same weight from earlier is still wrapped around you, and steady breathing lulls you back to sleep.  

At some point in the night, you must have turned onto your side, half-stretched out on your stomach. And Buck, well he adjusted, too. 

His arm is underneath your pillow, your hair splayed out across the skin of his upper bicep. His other arm is heavy on your waist, hand holding onto your upper abdomen firmly, holding you close to his chest. His leg is slotted in the middle of yours, securely anchoring your whole body down. As if he returns the sentiment of not wanting to be left alone, even in his sleep.

It could be pure instinct. The body’s natural desire to gravitate towards warmth and to feel close to someone, something. But this doesn’t feel like that. 

It’s too domestic, too intimate.

 This isn’t just some coincidence. This is something more.

Any outsider would assume you were a couple. The way your bodies fit together, as if you had done this many times before. A testament to how well you responded to each other. 

Maybe Buck was right. 

Maybe you were always meant to cross paths.

Maybe you already had, in a past life.

Maybe that’s why this felt so instinctive.  

It felt like you had naturally found your way back home. 

Like you had found your person. 

*********

The sound of an alarm wakes you up abruptly, causing you to jump awake with a gasp.

The alarm is higher pitched than you’re used to. 

Instead of slowly waking you up, you jolted, causing a damn near heart attack.

It’s similar to the feeling of falling off the edge of a cliff, only to jolt back to life. 

 You’re irrationally mad at the offending device. First, it woke you up from the best sleep you’ve had in what feels like months. Second, you know it means that Buck has to leave your bed. He has to leave you. 

You hear him before he moves. He lets out an annoyed grunt, his breath warm against the back of your neck, where he has tucked his chin rests on your exposed shoulder. A chill runs up your spine. 

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs, removing his body from yours to reach for the phone on the bedside table. The bed shifts as he reaches blindly behind him. He grabs the phone, turning the alarm off before letting it drop to the side of his head. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“5 more minutes.” 

You exhale. You expect him to remove himself from your backside as you both adjust to waking up. It’s certainly way earlier than you normally awake, but you don’t mind it. Not if you get to keep Buck’s warm body against yours. Besides, you know as soon as he leaves, you can get a few more hours. 

But he doesn’t move. In fact, his face returns to your shoulder, lips barely grazing your skin. It’s almost like he went to press a kiss to your shoulder, but quickly stopped himself. 

“Your bed is comfy.”

You hum in response to him, nuzzling your head back into the pillow. You want to tell him that he’s comfy, but you decide against it- for now. 

You could easily fall right back asleep in his arms. You tug the blanket back up over yourself, further isolating Buck from the world. Selfishly holding him in your bed for a few more minutes. 

“Didn't mean to wake you, sleeping beauty.”

A soft nod and your curl your feet in, one resting against his calf. He lets out a low groan, vibrating against your skin. You let out a sleepy giggle as it tickles you. He’s so close, you can feel a hint of stubble on his face.

“Hmm, ticklish.” 

He nuzzles your neck with his nose, making you squirm with breathy protests.

“Your hair smells good.”

You’re still in the state between half asleep and awake, muttering a soft response.

“Mhmm, you too.”

It’s silent after that. Not a bad quiet, though. 

Neither of you move. You’re too comfortable.

You want to turn around and bury your face in his chest. To feel his warm torso against your cheek, listen to his heartbeat in your ear. 

But you don’t because you know he has to get up. You know he has to leave for work. And if you move, it’ll ruin the opportunity for you to fully soak up the bliss of the moment. 

So you don’t move. Not yet. 

You feel like you’re dreaming.

You groan when the loud sound of the second alarm pierces through the air. This time, the alarm is turned off much quicker. 

He digs his forehead into the crook of your neck, sighing against your neck. You shiver slightly, sliding your arm up outside of the blanket. You lightly bring your hand up against the side of his head, caressing him softly. He breathes in deep, tugging you closer to him. He lingers for at least a few minutes, causing you to drift back into sleep. 

The muscles in his hand flex as he pulls back, waking you up from dozing off. His hand rests on the side of your waist, fingers digging into the curve, nose nuzzling your neck once more. 

Then slowly, he unwinds himself from you. The moment he pulls away, you miss the pressure of his warm body against yours.

You want to protest as he tugs away. To trap him there. To pretend he doesn’t have a job to attend to. That neither of you have adult responsibilities you have to fulfill. 

You roll onto your back with a large sigh. You know he has to get out of bed. The only thing that makes you feel better is that it seems that he, too, doesn't want to get up. 

But would it be the worst thing ever if you pulled him back down to lay next to you for a few more minutes? 

You glance up to watch him groggily run a hand over his face. He’s also struggling to keep his eyes open, evident by the way they’re half shut. A yawn forces itself out of his throat and he forces himself to wake up by stretching his muscles. Buck rolls his shoulders back, groaning again as he wakes up his joints.

You prop yourself up on your hand, watching as he smooths his hair. The same locks that you wanted to smooth a few hours ago. The blanket shifts as he moves towards the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over. A slight rush of air goes underneath the blanket, but he seems to be careful in not letting too much cold air get to you.

“Morning.”

You hum in response at the way he looks over his shoulder, blue eyes meeting yours, his voice still thick with sleep. You lazily smile back at him. You could get used to hearing that groggy voice of his.

You watch as he moves around, his back muscles flexing as he stretches. You bite your lip, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand. 

He moves around the bedroom effortlessly, comfortable in this space. Like he has been here before. Like he belongs in this apartment. 

You should be shocked at how fast things have changed between the two of you. In under 24 hours, you have moved from sharing coffee to sharing a bed. 0It should feel like you jumped the gun way too soon. 

But it doesn’t. It feels like a scene straight out of a movie. One in which everything instantly clicks together. 

“You have plans today?” Buck asks as he reaches down into his duffel. The muscles in his forearm flex, and you think about how firm his arm felt around you. 

It’s one of those moments where you hear the words but it takes a moment to register. You look at him, sleepily blinking before you process his question. 

You want to provide a sarcastic remark about how you plan to go back to bed until at least 9 am. But you bite your lip, both to prevent the obvious answer from slipping out and to curtail the urge to pout.

“No, just homework and reviewing the lesson plan and notes for tomorrow.”

He tugs a shirt on, working on the buttons. You expect the conversation to be over for now, for him to grab his toiletries and freshen up. But he stops halfway through the buttons to look up. Like he has come upon a revelation that is going to change the world.

“You should come to the station for lunch.” 

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s casual, easy, and you feel like everything is moving so fast. 

But it’s not forced. It feels right.

Something changed last night, but he acts like there’s no need to talk about it. 

That this is simply the new normal.

“It’s my day to cook, and I’m making sliders and fries,” he follows up as he throws a causal tee on. “Oh, and my sister Maddie will be there. She has the day off.”

You’re all sleepy smiles. How can you say no when he’s looking at you like that. When he’s talking about people most important in his life. You know you can’t. 

But then the panic about meeting them sets in. He wants you to meet his sister? You’re unclear on what this relationship even is right now. How are you supposed to face his sister? You don’t even know much about her.

“You should bring your laptop, because I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to eat on time. With duty calling and everything.”

“Damn LA,” you tease him, giggling slightly when he shakes his head in amusement “Always having to go save the day.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

You want to tell him all of the things running through your mind- all of the things you wouldn’t mind doing with him. 

You wouldn’t mind sharing your bed again, cuddling up on the couch and watching TV. Cooking and baking together. 

Sharing a few kisses or… 

Yeah no. Quit. He has to leave and you’re just going to work yourself up. 

“If I say yes to going to the station for lunch, will you keep me around?”

It’s supposed to be funny, lighthearted, and even teasing. But when a pause follows, it lingers in the air a bit too long for your comfort. 

This time it feels different, and your anxieties start to creep in.

What if you were reading way further into this than you needed to. 

Maybe this was a one time thing, cuddling to keep away nightmares, to feel less alone.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily? No take-backs.”

Again, his voice is soft, so casual. There is no time for him to think about an answer, just the truth. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“But really, you should come, if you want to. I think Maddie would be super happy to meet you.”

Meeting a partner’s family had never been in the cards for you. You never let it get this far- always too focused on school, your future, protecting yourself. But Buck? He wasn’t just breaking these rules. He was making you forget why you had them. 

 You were excited at the prospect of meeting someone’s family. To be that important to be introduced to someone important in their life- Buck’s life. He seemed excited for you to meet his sister. What would it hurt to put yourself out there?

“I guess I’ll have to come, it’s not like you’re giving me a choice. But I’m going to warn you that I’m not exactly the most extroverted person when it comes to meeting new people.”

“No one will bite, promise. And if they do? Guess I’ll have to be your knight in shining turnout gear.”

You giggle, dropping your head onto the pillow. Buck grins, eyes glancing between you and his shirt before disappearing into the bathroom. 

When the door shuts, you shift to the middle of your bed, pulling his pillow towards you. You’re warm again, his scent still in the fabric. You dig your face into it, inhaling and closing your eyes. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, a squeal muffled into the pillow- one that could rival a schoolgirl’s

There is no way in hell your friends will believe this. You’re not even sure you believe it

You tell yourself not to get ahead of yourself, not to have high hopes. But Buck keeps being Buck, and with every smile, reassuring word, and soft touch, each layer of brick around your heart comes crumbling down, quicker than the last. 

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 4

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: recalling trauma, slight angst, comfort, mentions of blood and shooting, some fluff and teasing, MDNI 18+

Author's notes: I would like to praise myself for keeping the tension building for this long because the hopeless romantic in me wants to get right to it!

Masterlist | Taglist

Buck had made himself at home in the kitchen, making you stand to the side as he scooped ice cream into the bowls. You told him that he was your guest, but he didn’t have any of it. He was also adamant about not accepting any money for the ice cream. Up to this point, it had been small talk- no pressure, but not silent. You had learned that Buck also shared your interest in baking, both of you finding it a calming, healthy outlet for stress.  

He hands you a bowl whilst you retrieve two spoons from the drawer. You guide him to the couch, settling in. You reach for the remote, turning to him.  

“What do you want to watch? You’re the guest.” 

“Hmm, as your guest, I want you to choose.” 

You navigate to Hulu to put on 10 Things I hate About You. It’s silent, your attention focused on enjoying the cold, sweet treat and the movie.  

The happy intro scene unfolds with four girls in a nicer, blue car on the way to school, seemingly jamming out to the music. They portray the more popular fashion of the late 1990s before panning to Kat, dressed in a darker, laid-back grunge look as she pulls up in her older car, Joan Jett and the Black Hearts “Bad Reputation” blaring through the radio.  

You’re reminded of yourself in high school. You didn’t necessarily have the grunge look until college, but you never felt the urge to dress up like the popular, stereotypical pretty girls. You’re so immersed in the film that you don’t realize Buck is sneaking glances at you.  

About 15 minutes into the movie, after Kat’s dad tells her younger sister Bianca that she can’t go to prom or date until Kat does, you set the empty bowl on your lap and turn to better face the man next to you. 

“You know when I said I’ve been back? It was only this morning. I wanted to go before classes started again on Wednesday,” you take a deep breath, trying to smile but your cheek muscles feel heavy. “Then I went to see you, and I think that’s why I had the nightmare.” 

“Hey, I think that going back was a huge accomplishment. You could have chosen not to go back but you did. And you’re going back to teach. That’s a lot for your brain to process and it’s understandable that you had a nightmare,” he pauses, and once he gauges that you are okay, he continues “I’m sorry that you had to go through it alone. All of it. You’re still going through it alone, not wanting to tell your friends about it. But you don’t have to.” 

It’s at that moment, when he tells you that you don’t have to go through the trauma alone, that the dam breaks. That’s when it all comes out, your feelings and your thoughts.  

“They replaced the carpet in the office with tile, and rearranged the furniture, but I can still see where he was laying, bleeding on my hands. Sometimes when I think about it, it’s like I can feel the blood- sticky, dry- and I scrub my hands.” 

You feel a lump in your throat, looking down to play with your fingernails. There is a piece of loose skin at the cuticle, and you try to pull it off.   

“When I unlocked the door, I had to count to three before leaving. Walking the hallway is terrifying, and I jump so much at the smallest of sounds. I say I’m fine, but I’m so scared, Buck. I keep telling myself that I’m lucky because I didn’t see anyone get shot or even see the shooter, so I don’t deserve to be scared. The therapist says that’s not true, and I shouldn’t think like that, but it’s hard not to feel that way.” 

You surprisingly don’t jump when Buck grabs your hand. He is slow, careful not to startle you. He looks to you for approval, and you wrap your fingers around him, letting him squeeze. His hand is large in comparison to yours and so warm. His palm not too soft but not too rough, either. Your heart flutters, skipping a beat when his thumb drags soothingly across the back of your hand.  

“You deserve to be scared. You deserve to feel sad. You deserve to feel it all. You experienced it all. You may not have been shot or seen the man, but you heard it. You saw the effects of it. You don’t have to earn your feelings for them to be valid. Would you tell your friends they don’t deserve to be scared to go back to class because they weren’t there?” 

“No.” 

“See, you wouldn’t deny them their feelings, so why should you deny your feelings?” 

“I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me.” 

You bring your eyes up to his face. His eyes are soft, gleaming with concern and it makes you tear up again. You’re thankful that you ignored your own insecurities and messaged him for comfort. You didn’t feel pressure to share, and you didn’t feel internal pressure to not share to avoid scaring others. It was nice having someone who you finally could talk to that wasn’t your therapist.  

“What do they say, the irony of fate? How we met wasn’t ideal, but somehow, someone, something decided that we had to cross paths. Maybe I would have met you in a different scenario. In fact, I wish I would have so you didn’t have to go through all this trauma and fear. But despite that, here we are. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that I met you. Something about you is just- different. Not in a bad way, of course.”  

This time you smile. That connection, that chemistry, wasn’t forced. You didn’t make it up in your head, because he felt it too. He leans in, bringing his free hand up. You think he’s going to wipe the tears off your face, but he hesitates. You squeeze his hand, reaching up to swipe away the few tears that had spilled over. The only few that Buck wasn’t able to prevent.  

“Me too.” 

Silence falls between you two again, but your gazes don’t leave each other. And by the way that he’s looking at you- it’s the same look he had on his face earlier that morning. He wants to say something but is holding himself back.  

So you decide to test the waters.  

“What are you thinking about?” 

His laugh fills the air, this time with an undertone of nervousness. He looks away for a few long seconds, just long enough to make you anxious. And to make you feel a bit weird watching him. Looking at the way he bites his lip and wears a face of contemplation.  

“A few months ago, I was in a relationship with this woman named Abby. She left for Europe to go find herself after her mom died. She called at first, but then it stopped. I held on for a while, but I finally let go when I realized she was never coming back.  

“Before her, I was impulsive, reckless- I uh, tried to prove myself, you know? To not feel like a disappointment to my parents. To feel like I was enough and what I did mattered. That I mattered. I only focused on what I wanted and not how my decisions could hurt someone else. I was pretty much a man whore. Then I met her, and with some therapy and self-reflection, I’ve turned into what Eddie and the crew like to call Buck 2.0. Mature, more responsible, and just a much better person than I was.” 

You take it all in, listening to him. You note that there seems to be some trauma regarding his parents, possibly even going back to his childhood. It’s not your place to inquire about, but you hold onto it, knowing to treat any conversation in the future about parents carefully. You hear the pain in his voice, the way he doesn’t hold eye contact, and your heart breaks. This warm, sweet, caring person, despite all that he has gone through, still wears his heart on his sleeve.  

"While I think Buck 2.0 is amazing, I think Buck 1.0 was still the same kind-hearted person you are now,” it’s your turn to squeeze his hand. “It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, trying to prove your worth and show everyone you’re enough. I get it.” 

He faces you again, this time holding onto every word that you say. He exhales heavily. 

“You know, many people don’t take the time to truly better themselves. But you did. You not only cared about other people, but you took steps to love yourself. You don’t have to prove to anyone who you are or impress them. You’re just you, and if people can’t accept that and love you unconditionally, then they don’t deserve to be a part of your life.” 

You offer a smile but are left slightly confused when he closes his eyes in return. His eyelids flutter shut, eyelashes brushing his upper cheek. His chest moves as he takes a few breaths in. You spot the breathing pattern he’s using, breathe in, hold, breathe out. You catch onto the specific pattern as he repeats it a few more times. He’s doing a triangle, 3-3-3.  

A wave of embarrassment hits you when he opens his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just gives your hand a squeeze before pulling back. Running his fingers through his hair, he flashes you a grin, but it feels different. A little more forced. Maybe you made him uncomfortable.  

As if he can feel your apprehension, he reaches for the empty bowl in your lap. His fingers linger as they brush yours, all while maintaining eye contact. You swallow harder than you mean to, and you hope he doesn’t hear it, or see it.  

All of the sudden, melted ice cream and caramel sauce is spread on your cheek. You let out a loud gasp, jaw dropped but face full of joy.  

“You did not just do that!” 

“Mhmmm, I think I did. Ice cream fixes everything. See, it made you smile.” He sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick up the ice cream, and you feel like you could pass out right then and there.  

How dare he be a tease, talking you through your feeliings to help you avoid another mental breakdown and even sharing some of his own past, only to end the moment with something so intimate, so suggestive... what you would do to lick the ice cream off of his thumb. 

No, stop.  

“Here, let me take this and you can settle into bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

You stare back at the man as if he has suddenly grown a second head.  

“You’re over 6 foot tall, Buck! I am not going to let you sleep on the couch,” you protest, following him into the kitchen “I can sleep on the couch, and you can take the bed. You came over to comfort me and you probably have work in the morning. I will be fine on the couch.” 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen either. But I appreciate your concern for my comfort, all 6 foot 2 inches of me.” 

You shake your head, laughing as you nudge his arm. He feigns hurt as you trail him into the kitchen. He puts the bowls in the sink, and you turn on the water, putting a dot of soap in each bowl. You take over, pushing him to the side lightly as you grab the sponge to wash the dishes, including your dinner bowl. You’re glad you cleaned the pots before you sat down to eat. 

It’s silent again. Buck leans back against the counter, just watching you do the mundane chore. An idea pops in your head, and you say it before your brain can stop you. 

“We could share the bed.” 

You want the world to swallow you whole.  

There’s no way you just suggested that to Buck. You barely know him.  

But it feels like you have known him your whole life.  

You stack the bowls in the dish drainer to dry. He looks down, shifting his weight, tapping his foot a bit.  He looks caught off guard and you feel bad for even suggesting it in the first place. You move over to grab a hand towel to dry off your hands.  

You really did it this time. Good job, you’ve ruined it.  

When you turn back to him to break the ice, he lets out a shaky breath.  

“I can live with that.”  

His response is earnest, so soft and quiet that you can barely hear him. He observes your face, reading the apprehension and hesitation that lingers in your body language.  

“If it’s okay with you. Don’t feel like I have to stay, I can leave too. I really don’t mind the couch or going back home. I just don’t want to ever make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries.” 

Okay, maybe you didn’t mess up as much as your thought you had.  

“I don’t mind. You drove all the way over here, it’s getting late, and we’re both adults. Right?” 

“Right,” he pushes himself off the counter, showing a hint of his confident, cocky side, seemingly recovering “besides, I can rest easy knowing that you’re comfortable and I can keep the bad dreams away.” 

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 3

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: nightmare, recalling trauma, slight angst, slight comfort, mentions of blood, MDNI 18+

Authors notes: I chose to make the images pixel-y and blurred, for a nightmare effect!

Masterlist | Taglist

“There, we can iron out the details tonight.”

You’d be lying if you said that statement wasn’t looping in your mind all day, invading your every thought. Earlier, you had to take a walk to get enough focus to get ahead on lectures, knowing you’d be occupied Wednesday. 

But still, you’d been driving yourself a little insane.

A new TV series played in the background as you were creating the tomato sauce for your rigatoni, the smell of garlic and tomato filling the kitchen. 

Then your phone pinged. You glance over. Butterflies. Not just from seeing his name, but from what he had set his contact name to.

You set the knife down, wiped your hands on your shorts and quickly turned down the heat. You didn’t want to burn the sauce. Or the apartment. Though seeing a certain, blonde fireman again wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

You unlock your phone, leaning against the counter as you shift your weight against the surface. You’re ecstatic, that same bubbly feeling filling your chest as when you left the fire station earlier. 

Hey, it’s Buck. Just got off work, thought I’d text you to finalize our plans. 

You: Hey, hope your shift was okay! Also, real smooth contact name, Granola Guy 🚒

Buck: It was good, surprisingly slow today. But I’m glad you like it, Short Latte ☕

You: Wow, so now you’re calling me short?

Buck: I never said it was bad 😉 Now back to these plans. What time on Wednesday? Do you like Mexican?

You: I teach from 10-11 then I’m free all day. And I do like Mexican. Lunch or dinner?

Buck: How about dinner at 6? Gives you time to unwind. I’ll pick you up.

You: Sounds perfect. See you soon, Buck. 

Buck: Have a good rest of your night, y/n. 

With a press of the spacebar, you pause your show, suddenly unable to focus on it at all. 

Instead, you grab your phone again to text your friends: I have plans with the hot firefighter who treated me last Monday. What do I wear?

Could you even call it a date? Buck never said it was a date, but it was toeing the line between casual drinks and something more. 

Once you finished your pasta sauce and combined it with the noodles, you settled onto the couch, curling your legs underneath you. You turned on the local news, as you made it a habit to begin and end your day with the news once you started graduate school. And although it was only 7, you were exhausted. 

Your therapist eassured you that needing more sleep was normal- that it was your body’s way of adjusting to the trauma, processing everything it’d been through. He’d recommended switching to a multivitamin with Omega-3s and implementing ashwagandha to your diet to help lower stress hormones, but it would take a few weeks to feel any real difference.

You just wanted to feel normal again.

9:13 PM

You jerk awake. Gasping. 

Dr. Daniels- dead. Blood. Too much. 

The shooter. A gunshot. You felt it. Dead.

The TV is still playing. Lights illuminate the apartment. You’re home. Safe. 

But you don’t feel safe. 

Terror sets in, wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing tightly and showing no signs of letting go.

Hands trembling, you reach for your phone on the floor. Tears fall before you can stop them, and your throat feels tight. Your neck hurts from the position you slept in, but fear drowns that out.

There was no way you were falling back asleep. What now? 

Call your best friend to go on a night drive? 

Take a hot shower, distract yourself by coloring? 

Book an emergency therapy session?

It was your first nightmare since the shooting. You had managed to avoid having any nightmares of the event through a strict sleep routine. Cut down on caffeine after 5. Exercise at least half an hour a day. Shower and drink ashwagandha tea before bed. Keep a small light on incase you woke up in the middle of the night to provide a sense of calm and safety- especially since the majority of the trauma you experienced was in a dark office.

You can’t keep this to yourself. It wasn’t fair to call a friend. Text a therapist? Maybe. But you don’t want logical explanations, you need comfort. Someone who could understand you. Who had been through his own share of trauma. Buck

You felt weak and a bit stupid for even considering it, but with the slight twitch in your fingers as you entered your pin, you knew that those feelings were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You needed to ease your mind, and worrying about your ego was not going to help achieve that. 

y/n: Hey, not to bother you, but I just had a nightmare and I’m really shaken up. Could I possibly tell you about it? 

y/n: If not, that’s okay. I’ll book a 24/7 therapy session. you're probably exhausted. Forget I sent this. 

You’re already navigating to the therapy app when your phone rings. You jump, startled by the sound, your breath catching in your throat. Your heartbeat picks up again, but this time, for a different reason. Your fingers are still shaky as you answer and put him on speaker. 

“Hello?”

The voice that meets yours is warm, full of concern.

“Hey. y/n, are you okay?”

There is a long silence, tears welling up in your eyes. You try to speak, but the moment you open your mouth, you know you’re going to cry. Especially since your lip is already quivering at the sound of his voice. 

And you can’t tell if it is from, fear, relief,, or something in between. 

“No.” 

The confidence you had earlier in the day is gone. You feel small as your lip trembles. Your breath comes out in shallow bursts. 

He doesn’t rush you, but instead listens. 

“How about this- I’ll tell you about my day first” Buck soothes you. “Then, if you want, we can talk about your nightmare. No pressure.”

You nod despite him not being able to see you. 

“Yes.”

You grab the remote to turn the TV down so you can focus on Buck as he talks. You can tell he is trying his best to stay lighthearted, but that underlying concern is still present. 

“We got some routine calls, nothing too fancy. I think the most exciting call we got today was extracting a snake from the AC vents of a woman’s car. Chimney was in charge of keeping her calm because he’s also terrified of snakes. She kept exclaiming that she was going to sell the car and get a new one after the snake was out.”

“Oh no. I don’t blame them. I hate snakes too.”

“Good to know. If we see one while we’re out Wednesday, I’ll protect you.”

He pauses and you can practically feel his smile through the phone. 

You don’t feel as scared as you did. As alone. 

 “I-I couldn’t move, Buck. I heard Dr. Daniels outside of the room and when I opened the door, he was there, but there was more blood, way more. I went to help him inside, but he turned the corner. He shot him again. I watched and couldn’t do anything to help Dr. Daniels. I tried to go back into the office but I froze. Then I woke up. He shot me Buck, and I know he did because you can’t watch yourself die in your sleep.”

“That sounds awful and I’m really sorry you had to go through that, y/n. Do you want to talk about it? It’s okay if you don’t, but maybe it’ll help to get it off your chest.”

“I just don’t know if I can go back to sleep after that. It’s the first time I had a real nightmare about it. The officers didn’t get there, Hen and Eddie didn’t save Dr. Daniels. I couldn’t save Dr. Daniels. And you didn’t find me because I was dead.”

“I can’t imagine how real that must have felt. But you did save Dr. Daniels. You survived. And I did find you.”

“What if it happens again and I freeze?”

“If it happens again, which is highly unlikely, I believe that you’ll act as quickly as you did with Dr. Daniels. You’re strong, brave, and extremely selfless for putting yourself in potential danger to save him, y/n.”

There is a long pause. You feel the tears coming on again, and this time you let out a small cry. You had heard repeatedly from everyone that you saved Dr. Daniels, but you minimized it to avoid acknowledging the reality of the situation. Even in therapy, you’re not sure that you have fully come to terms with what really happened that day.  

“Hey, do you want me to come over? We don’t have to talk about it. I can bring ice cream and we can watch a movie, play a game, or I can just be there. Whatever you need.”

“Yes please.” you manage to say softly. It takes you a few deep breaths before you’re able to give him your address. You can hear the faint typing on his phone, likely plugging in your address to his navigation app. 

“I’ll be there soon. I’ll text you when I get there, okay?”

“Okay.”

When you say your goodbyes and hang up, you have to take a breather. Your chest is heaving with each deep breath you try to take, but it ends up being repeated shallow breaths that hitch in your throat. 

Buck is a saint sent from above, you think to yourself. 

Once you feel like you have gained some composure, you stand up to head over to your room- which is just your bed, nightstand, and dresser on the opposite side of the living room because you live in a studio apartment. You pull out a pair of sleep shorts and a matching tank top before heading into the bathroom. 

The shower feels nice as you step under it, hitting your chest and running down your body. Water has always been grounding for you. When you had first started college, the new workload and routine had affected you majorly. You were taking more showers than normal and realized that the feeling and sounds of running water was soothing to you. 

You skip washing your hair as you had just washed earlier in the day. But you lather up your loofah with the lavender night time body wash you purchased after the shooting. It may have been a bit more than what you normally spend on body wash, but it really seemed to help relax you. Or it helped create a placebo effect of relaxation. 

You dry off and put on the clothes you picked out, skipping underwear but switching to a simple sports bra and abandoning the one you previously had on. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring off into space. Your mind is numb as you try not to think about anything. If you focus on the nightmare too much, you may not be able to leave your apartment. 

Your phone pinging from the other room disturbs you from your thoughts. You don’t jump this time, taking it as a small win. You view the text that lets you know that Buck is in the lobby and needs to be let up. 

You grab your keeps, slipping on your flamingo slippers. You check the peephole- empty. You know the building is secure. But still, you clutch the sharp tool on your keychain as you unlock the door. 

The ride down the six flights feels longer than normal, reminding you how slow time feels when you’re anxious. You’re relieved when you see him waiting for you. He has a grocery bag in one hand and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

You feel eyes following you. Are they admiring him? Judging you? When someone like Buck is seen with someone like you.. No, that doesn’t matter. He’s not judging you, so why judge yourself?

“Hi.” 

It’s a simple word and probably the best you can give him right now, especially in front of all the strangers hanging out in the lobby. He smiles, giving you a soft hey before he pulls you in for a hug. 

You’re body tenses at first, but relax quickly as his arms wrap around you, his warmth melting away any lingering fear. You hug him back, arms fitting around his torso.. 

He smells so good; fresh, clean, crisp. He could easily rival and beat the smell of the body wash you’ve been using to relax. 

It reminds you of an ocean breeze. You didn’t grow up near beaches or California itself, but you have grown to love going on beach walks, feeling the warm sand on your toes. You hadn’t been to the beach in a while, not since school started in August. You tend to go on more woodsy nature walks during the fall. Maybe you two could go on a nature walk soon. You smiled at the potential plan. 

He pulls back, flashing that golden retriever grin of his as he looks down at you. 

“I bought vanilla and some caramel sauce. Thought it’d be a safe option, since I didn’t ask what kind of ice cream you like...”

You stare back up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. You may still feel anxious, but at least you had someone as considerate as Buck to keep you company. “Good choice, Buckley.”

He laughs and it's easy,familiar- like you’ve known it for years. His arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. The tension in your chest loosens, feeling like you can finally breathe again.  He’s warm, just like his personality. His voice steady, grounding. He drowns out the negativity in your head.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now let’s go eat this, shall we?”

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 2

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of trauma and shooting, fluff, Buck is a flirt

Author Notes: I have decided I am going to make this a plus! size reader since this is a very self indulgent fic. However, I am going to try to minimize the use of this to make this body inclusive for everyone. Reader is also female at birth and may occasionally use she/her pronouns. But I am trying to make this as inclusive for all of us females and nonbinaries!

Masterlist | Taglist

Classes were canceled for a week, giving students time to cope with the trauma- or at least try. The university even allowed students to switch to online if they weren’t ready to return and even full reimbursement for those who couldn’t. 

You however sought normalcy and desperately wanted to get back into your routine. Dr. Daniels had made it out alive and would be out until at least November. By the third day of his time in the hospital, he was out of the ICU and was eager to see you. 

After he thanked you and his wife and two boys gave you a $20 gift card to Dunkin and a bouquet of flowers as a thank you, he had told you he wanted you to teach his Introduction to American Government class to lessen the load on the sub instructor the university contracted for him. 

You were both excited and nervous to have the opportunity to experiment with the possibility of teaching in the future. And most of all, it meant a lot to you that Dr. Daniels had enough trust and faith in you to handle the class. Maybe the fact that you saved his life helped him reach that conclusion. 

Now you sit parked across the street from the 118 fire station, with two cups of coffee and granola bars.

 You had bought the Kind Bars he had the day you met, and thanks to the Daniels family, the coffee was free. You hoped the caramel and a French Vanilla were good choices- Buck could pick first. 

God, this wasn’t weird… right? But showing up with nothing felt worse.

Opening the door to your car, you get out before reaching in to get the box of granola bars and the two-slot drink carrier. Taking a deep breath to soothe your anxieties, you close your eyes. 

This isn’t weird

The large bay doors of the firehouse open, giving a view of the firetrucks and people scattered across the station. You feel a bit out of place as you walk across the street, but you keep moving. As you approach the station, your eyes scan the interior for the blonde. 

You spot the woman paramedic talking to a shorter guy, and when you get closer and stop in front of the pair, they turn their attention to you.

“Hey, can I help you?”

“Yeah, I uh—is Buck here? I’m y/n. I was… at the school shooting last week and I just uh- I wanted to thank him for helping me.”

“Yes, he’s over at the weights. I can take you,” she pauses, extending her hand out towards you to shake “my name’s Hen by the way, and this is Chimney. You did an amazing job keeping that professor alive, by the way.”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything besides what I was trained to do.” You deflect.

“But you saved him by acting fast.”

“Thanks,” you reply shyly, still feeling nervous about being here and being praised for keeping Dr. Daniels stable “Thank you for what you do.”

“It’s our pleasure.” Chimney replies with a warm smile before you follow Hen. She weaves through a gap in two fire trucks leading you to the makeshift gym in the back of the firehouse. Buck is with another guy, spotting him as he lifts weights. 

“Buck, you have a guest.”

Buck glances up briefly. When his eyes spot you, the corner of his lips tug up.

“Hey,” he pauses before he turns his attention back to the man “let me finish this rep with Eddie and we can talk.”

 Hen stands beside you, arms crossed at her chest. She looks amused as she observes the situation. You, on the other hand, feel a bit self-conscious, looking at the two fit men in comparison to your plush body. You shift your weight, trying to stand taller, to feel more confident. You are not here to feel bad about your body or compare yourself to literal firefighters. You are here to thank Buck. 

“Okay.”

With three more overhead presses, Buck lifts the bar and puts it onto the two black metal hooks. You can’t help but look at the muscles in his forearms as they flex under the weight… or the small beads of sweat that coat his forehead. The navy shirt he is sporting is different from the button down he was wearing in the field. He reaches for a towel, patting his neck and face before tossing it onto the floor by a water bottle. 

“I uh, brought coffee. My professor’s wife bought me a gift card to Dunkin, which happens to be two blocks from here. I hope this isn’t weird, but I just wanted to say thank you for that day. I also have this box of granola bars for you. I didn’t know if you wanted caramel or vanilla coffee, so I figured I’d let you choose.”

“It’s not weird at all. It happens all the time,” he towers over you, that irresistible smile still gracing his face as he joins you, “but thank you. Do you mind if I take the vanilla?”

You nod, shoving the Kind Bars in his direction. With your free hand, you grab the warm disposable cup.  Buck’s already opening the package of granola bars.

“Are you sure you like Vanilla? I really don’t mind either flavor, I want you to pick what you really want.”

“Wow, so now you don't trust me?” he teases, feigning offense, but his cheeky face shows otherwise. “I’m hurt… But really, I’m in a vanilla mood today.”

Vanilla mood. You try not to overthink that, as the tone changed from teasing to a bit flirtatious. Or at least in your delusional mind, that’s how you interpreted it. 

 When he sees that you have the coffee he requested, he shifts the opened box to one hand, wrapping his large hand around the cup. You know you shouldn’t be ogling him, but you can’t help but think how his hand would feel on you. 

‘Enough. You’re here to say thank you, not get horny’ your conscience scolds you.  

“Do you want to go on a walk?”

“Sure.”

He guides you back through the firehouse to the front. His hand is hovering behind you, and you tell yourself that he’s just making sure that you are safe. That you aren’t going to bump into anything. 

Buck leads you to the edge of the parking lot, sitting down on a small concrete edge encasing a small flower garden. As you sit down, he turns his body to you, giving you all of his attention again. This time his blue eyes on you leaves you with a different feeling- less sympathetic, more intrigued.

“So, how have you been?”

You flip open the small tab, letting warm steam out to cool the coffee to a tolerable temperature. Buck reaches into the box, fishing out two granola bars. You give a wide smile as he hands one to you, without protest this time. 

“I’m doing good considering the situation,” you pause, feeling a bit flustered as his eyes focus on your face. You gaze down, swinging your foot out of anxiety, “I’m supposed to see a therapist once a week now, but I feel like I’m doing pretty good compared to others. I’ve been back since, and I feel like I handled it well. I still had to lock the door to the office, but the therapist said being able to step into the building was a big accomplishment on its own. I’m lucky, I didn’t see much of the shooting, you know?” 

“But you went through the experience. You saw someone almost die. I’ve been through enough therapy to know that you don’t have to compare your experiences to others.”

“Yeah,” you take a sip of the warm coffee, watching as Buck puts the granola bar up to his mouth to take a bite. The bite he took was at least ⅓ of the granola, acting like he had been starved for days and this was his first time getting food into his system. “I get to teach Introduction to American Government until my professor comes back. It may be until the end of the semester, but I’m excited to be able to get some experience.”

“That’s awesome, y/n. Those students are lucky to have you. When do you start?”

“I’m supposed to start Wednesday. I have nine students online and eleven in-person, so I’ll be on Zoom while I teach.”

“You’ll do great. Are you nervous? You seem like the type to handle pressure well.” 

You laugh at him, leaning towards him. Your arms touch a little, and you pull back again to create some distance. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. You miss the way his eyes flicker, face falling slightly before he subtly shakes his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Surprisingly, no. I know the material and have always liked tutoring others. And the school has provided additional safety features for inside the classroom. So I’m ready to go back.”

“I’m so happy for you, y/n,” he pauses, looking at your granola bar. His fingers grab it, tearing it open for you. You’re taken off guard when he bumps you with his shoulder, tilting his head closer to yours. He raises his eyebrows slightly, a teasing grin on his face “is this going to be our thing, granola bars?”

You let out a giggle that would easily rival that of a school girl’s bubbly laugh. As you observe him, you notice the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“What, you’re going to be carrying around a spare granola bar in case you bump into me ever again?”

He chuckles before turning away from you slightly. His legs stretch out, crossing his ankles as he leans back a little, his hands resting on part of the dirt behind him. You twist your torso to observe him, the sun highlighting his features, his blue eyes still locked on you. You breath hitches as he catches you staring. 

“Well, I was thinking that we could meet again. Maybe this time, for drinks?”

You’re completely caught off guard by his proposal. Would this be crossing a line, mingling with the person who sought to ground you? Who quite literally helped prevent further, long-term mental health issues by talking you down from excessive distress right away? There was no way that this was more than getting to know each other as friends, right?

You decide to keep it light hearted, showing your interest but not getting your hopes up too high. After all, maybe he just wanted to be friends. Right?

“So you want to share granola bars at a bar?”

You get a snort with a shake of his head. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure,” he pauses, his face softer this time. “We could go somewhere smaller, in a safer part of the city, if you want. Maybe a bar and grille so it isn’t full of totally intoxicated people.

“Besides, I can’t imagine how you may feel about bigger spaces at the moment.”

You let out a sigh, bigger than you mean to. The relief you feel is instant and unexpected. He continues to be a naturally caring person, considering a possible trigger of public spaces that may feel dangerous.

“I’d like that, Buck. When were you thinking?”

“Ironically, I have Wednesday off. How about I take you out for celebratory drinks and dinner after you’re done at school?”

“Let me check my calendar to see if I’m free,” you tease, pulling out your phone to unlock it. You open up your phonebook, pretending to scroll through as you create a new contact. “Give me your number, it looks like I can squeeze you in, Wednesday, you said?”

You pass over the device, watching as he enters his name and phone number. He pushes a button to confirm it before he takes it upon himself to send a text to his number. 

“There, we can iron out the details tonight,” he leans forward, stretching out his shoulders with an extension of his arms above his head. His shirt lifts up, giving you a brief glimpse of his abdomen. You know you shouldn’t have looked, but 

 Your cheeks ache from smiling. You can’t remember the last time you smiled like this within the past week, let alone for what feels like forever. Being a Master’s student, you have been running on autopilot, going through the motions. Yet Buck makes you feel like you’re alive again, light and almost normal. 

 “I should probably get back before Captain notices I’m gone.”

He stands, offering his hand. You take it as you pull yourself up, your smaller palm fitting into his larger, warmer one. Neither of you let go right away. His touch is so steadying, so grounding, and you know you should let go. 

You pull back with a reminder that he’s just being polite. Just being a gentleman

His facial expression changes, so small and brief that if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. Like there was something else he wanted to say.

Instead, he flashes that charming smile of his, head tilted. The sun hits his gorgeous blue eyes, causing a light glisten to them.

“I’ll see you Wednesday, y/n.” 

“Yeah…Wednesday.”

As you start to walk away, you glance back over your shoulder. He’s still standing at the entrance of the firehouse, watching you go. 

You face forward, biting your lip to contain the sound of excitement bubbling in your chest. 

Maybe, just maybe… this isn’t just two people getting to know each other.  

Maybe it had always been something more.

[hemmingslftv]

A Stranger's Jacket Series: Part 1

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: School Shooting, Gun Violence, Death, Blood, Angst MDNI +18

Authors Notes: As a master's student, I wanted to create a fic that I could easily write with minimal inaccuracies. I thought about doing a Nurse! Reader x Buck, but it was not flowing as easily as this did. This is also my first time writing for 911, so I hope it's okay!

Masterlist | Taglist

It was a normal day. Or so you thought. 

You were sitting in the graduate lounge, editing the notes you had taken for any missing student’s in your professor’s introduction class. The fan was on, providing a nice breeze on the sweltering hot day in LA. And it would have been great white noise if the fan wasn’t clicking everytime it oscillated.

The first sign was a pop. Your head popped up from the laptop you were working on, pausing as you listened for anything else.The second sign was another pop followed with screams. 

You quickly shut your laptop, moving to turn off the light and lock the two doors to the lounge. You were by yourself. Carefully, you maneuvered under the desk, pulling the chair in front of you and holding your bookbag to your chest as an extra layer of protection. 

The emergency alert system is blaring through the speakers of the building now. Your heart is beating out of your chest, banging in your ears with each thud. Your chest is tight, breathing hard yet trying to stay quiet. You bite your lip to avoid tears, afraid that if you let yourself cry it’ll turn into a sob. You feel nauseous and want to throw up. 

To distract yourself, you start repeating the lyrics of your favorite song at the moment. Yet despite your efforts, you can’t help but count the shots and hear the terrified screams and cries.You were trained to handle an active shooting as a graduate assistant, but you never thought you would have to be in a situation to do so.

You pull out your phone from your bag, quickly putting it on mute when it pings with a text. Your friends, thankfully not in the hall you’re in, are blowing up the group chat. You send a quick message to them that you’re okay, unable to focus on anything else but the sounds of danger.

You glance at the time. The last time you remember was around six minutes ago. There’s been at least 17 shots so far. Two minutes go by and it’s silent. The shooter must be gone.

So when there is a knock on your door, you jump, your hand slaps up to your mouth, biting down hard as you let out a cry.  

“Y/N, it’s Dr. Daniels. He’s in another department, let me in.”

You crawl over to the door that leads to the faculty offices, opening the door. Dr. Daniel’s has dragged himself down the hall, a trail of blood following him. You gasp, crouching to help drag him into the small office before shutting the door and locking it. 

You help him to lay under one of the desks, situating him on his back. You see his abdomen is bleeding through his blue plaid button up. You don’t have anything to hold to his wound. The only option is to take your shirt off.

You rip your t-shirt off, glad that you are in a modest sports bra and nothing more revealing. You both couldn’t give two shits about you being topless, too occupied with trying to survive.

It’s silent between the two of you. You are holding the shirt tightly onto the wound, blood seeping onto your fingertips around the edges of the shirt. You hear footsteps. You’re about to let out a loud sob when you hear the sound of radios and voices. The LAFD announces themselves and you feel relief. Help has come. 

“The 1st floor is clear.”

“10-56, shooter down in west stairwell.”

“Third floor is clear too.”

“Copy that. I need all hands on the second floor, now.”

You look up at Dr. Daniels. You had been staring at the wound and had zoned out, not noticing that Dr. Daniels is passed out cold.

“Dr. Daniels, wake up. Hold onto this, help is here. I have to unlock the door.”

No response. 

You make the decision to start screaming for help. You know the moment you move and take the pressure off of his wound, he is going to bleed out even faster than he already is. Your shirt is soaked with blood and even in the dark, with the lights flashing in the hallway, you can see him palling. 

“LAPD, I’m opening the door.”

The door is busted open. A black woman and a white male stand in front of the door. 

“He’s been shot, shot in the abdomen. He’s losing a lot of blood. He was awake but isn’t anymore. I should have talked to him and kept him awake.”

“It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, y/n. Let my officer take over and we’ll get you out of here.”

“No! I’m not moving until paramedics get here,” you taste salt, tears flowing down your cheeks as you sniffle “he can’t die. I won’t let him die.”

“Okay, we can do that. Let Officer Townsend check his pulse so we can get him proper help though, okay.”

You nod your consent, pressing hard on the wound. Blood is warmer and stickier than you thought it was. Thicker too. You can feel it building up on your hands.

The Officer moves closer. He squats down, careful not to touch you or bump you. He places two fingers on the man’s pulse before pushing on the radio. 

“Dispatch, we have a male victim, GSW to abdomen, faint pulse. Requesting immediate medics, room 2210.”

You glance back and the woman is gone. The officer kneels beside you, staying silent as he keeps his fingers on Dr. Daniel’s neck.

“I was in his class this morning, I-I GA for him. I’m 22 years old, I didn’t think… think that I would be in a shooting. I was trained for it, you know? I have heard sounds before that sounded like a gunshot, but it never was. And I heard it and I knew it was real this time.”

“You’re in shock. You said your name was y/n? Mine is Owen.”

“Yes.”

“What’s your major?”

But you shut him out, continuing your rambling. 

“I am supposed to meet my friends for lunch in half an hour. At 1. What time is it? I have to go change and wash off blood,” you look at the blood on your hands “oh my god, I-what if he dies? How do I tell his wife and two boys? That I was responsible for his death, that his blood was on my hands and he didn’t get to say goodbye. I can’t, I need him to live. Tell me he’s going to live.”

“You said you were a GA, what’s your major?”

“Political Science.”

“So you’re going to run for office one day?”

It’s the first time you crack a slight smile, shaking your head no. 

“No, I want to do administrative work. Maybe work for a congress member. Or teach.”

You hear more voices and footsteps. The female officer you saw earlier appears with a female and male. You feel instant relief when you see a medical bag on the female’s shoulder. 

“My name’s Hen and this is Eddie. Can we take a look at him?”

You nod, moving out of the way but still keeping pressure on his wound. The moment she crouches down and slowly slides her hand in place of yours, you let go and back up, sitting behind them to watch. The officer leaves, heading down the hall.

“Unconscious but responsive. Airway is clear, pupils dilated.”

The male, Eddie, grabs scissors, cutting the shirt open to examine the wound. Hen searches in the bag for gauze, passing it to him. He uses it to pack the wound. Hen places a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Pulse is weak, likely major internal bleeding. Get the stretcher in here now.”

The two maneuver to place him onto the orange backboard. They count to three before lifting him onto the stretcher. A grey blanket is placed over him and they rush out of the room. Leaving you sitting on the floor, in a bra and blood on you, your stained shirt left behind on the carpet. 

You sit there for a while, not able to move. You stare ahead at the grey metal cabinet, feeling numb and not much thought. You’re sure everyone has mostly left by now, minus a few radios going off. What seemed like forever has ended abruptly, the first responders and police having worked quickly. 

The blood is sticky and warm, drying on your skin as you wait. Your hands feel tight, and the thought of germs that are not yours feels foreign and uncomfortable. The tears have stopped and are drying on your cheeks.

You push yourself up, fighting the urge to wipe your bloodied hands on your leggings. As you walk out of the room, you jump, startled by the presence of another person. 

“Hey, my name is Buck. I’m a first responder. Are you hurt?”

The handsome man stands in front of you, bending down slightly to look you in the face. To bring you back to reality and out of shock. If you weren’t in distress, you would have been shy to be in just your bra and a pair of leggings. You glance down at your hands again, seeing the blood start to turn a deeper shade of red as it dries.

“What’s your name?”

“No, I uh, it’s my professor’s blood,” you respond to the first question, not registering the second one. Your mind is too occupied with cleaning your hands. “I need to wash it off. The bathroom is down the hall, I should clean it off before I leave.”

“We can get you cleaned up outside,” he states firmly but gently “But you have to let me check you first.”

You can’t stop staring at your hands. The blood is drying now, turning a darker shade. What was once stick is now dry, leaving an entirely different sensation on your hands. You glance back at the floor- where your favorite vintage band shirt lays ruined. 

You shouldn’t be upset as you are about it, considering everything that just happened. But it’s the only thing that your mind will let you focus on.

“Hey, it’s okay. The shirt’s replaceable, isn’t it?”

You nod numbly. He leads you down the hall, but every step feels slow and unreal. You look into the classrooms, seeing one room with blood on the floor and a few personal belongings. The blood on your hand feels even more heavy and you have to tear your eyes away from the scene. You don’t even realize you have stopped in your place and are staring into the room until Buck taps your shoulder and encourages you to follow him. You feel like everything is distant. 

He leads you down the rest of the hallway to the stairwell. Just as he opens the wooden doors to the stairs, the air kicks on. As the old vents screech to life, you let out a small scream. 

“It’s okay, it’s safe.”

He stays right beside you, hand hovering a bit as if to catch you if you start to trip or fall down the stairs. 

When you step onto the concrete pad of the stairs outside, the air is hot and heavy. Compared to the darkness of the office and flashing lights in the hallway, the sun is bright, causing you to shield your eyes. When a light breeze comes out of nowhere and hits your lungs, you feel some relief. The air smells like sweat, asphalt, and a metallic smell- the blood still coating your fingers and palms.

Buck leads you to a firetruck, instructing you to sit down on the back, all of the ambulances are gone, only two fire trucks remaining and a few cop cars. He walks around the truck, opening a door before reappearing with a medic bag. 

“What’s your name?”

“y/n.”

“My name is Evan, but people call me Buck. y/n, I am going to put this on your finger to check your vitals, okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He grabs a pulse ox, putting it on your finger, ignoring your attempt to deny help. But he gives you no choice. Which in most scenarios, would not be fine, but in this case you finally decide that he’s just trying to help you.  

“You’re in shock, which is completely normal. If you want to share your thoughts, I’m here to listen.”

 He kneels down on one knee, looking at you. He shines a light into your eyes, checking if your pupils are reactive. You stare off, not paying much attention to the handsome man in front of you. When a hand is placed on your arm to bring you out of your state, you jump.

“You’re hyperventilating. I need you to breathe in through your nose and push it out through your mouth like this.”

He purses his lips as though he is about to whistle, emphasizing his breathing as he inhales through his nose. He holds it before letting it out through his lips. You start to mimic him, and slowly your pulse starts to decline, the beating in your chest fading back to a more normal rhythm. 

“That’s it, there you go, y/n. Doing great. Now let’s get you washed off, yeah?”

He comes back with some wipes and water, handing you the water while he waits with a few packets of wipes

“Here, you can rinse your hands and then these wipes are sanitizing. Since you don’t have any open cuts, you should be fine.”

“Thank you-” you trail off, trying to recall the name he gave you. 

“Buck.”

“Sorry. Thank you, Buck.”

You open the water bottle with your more clean hand, pouring it on your hand before the other, rinsing most of the blood off. Buck hands you some wipes as he takes the bottle with gloved hands, disposing of it properly. You wipe the little amount of blood on your stomach off and then use another wet wipe to sanitize your hand.

 You feel much better with clean hands, and Buck comes back with a black jacket that has EMS written on it, and yellow and grey reflective stripes across the arms and torso. 

“It may be a little warm, but it's a lightweight rain coat. I don’t have a shirt and the blankets we have will be hot.”

It’s a bit oversized, as you shrug it on. You smile up at him, pushing your hair out of the way. You remember you have a pocket in the side of your leggings, and you reach in there for the hair tie, wrapping your hair into a bun. 

He smiles and gives a quiet ‘atta girl’ as you get comfortable, pushing the sleeves up on the jacket. If he wasn’t so god damn hot, you wouldn’t have found yourself swooning as much as you are at the praise. Your heart rate picks up again and your cheeks get hot, for a different reason this time. 

“Do you want water? I notice you’ve been shaking, are you feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“A bit nauseous.”

“Are you diabetic, y/n?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay, have a seat then. I’ll get you water and I think I have a granola bar you can have. Your blood sugar is probably low from the stress.”

“You don’t have to,” you spit out, already feeling a bit out of place sitting here in gear, making Buck focus all of his attention on you “I can eat later. You should keep your granola bar. You’ve done plenty to help me, Buck.”

“It’s my job. You just lived through a school shooting and saved a man’s life. The least you can do is take care of yourself..”

You return a sad smile, realizing that some people may have died. But you bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry again. Instead, you focus on the sound of the door opening with a creak, then some rustling before Buck returns. 

“Hope you like chocolate chip.”

“I do. I have some money in my wallet I can give you for it.”

He laughs as he hands it to you, taking a seat on the bumper beside you. He watches you, and you feel a bit awkward as you stare at it. The more you think about eating it, the more nauseous you become.

“I don’t know if I can eat this. I feel like I might throw up if I do.”

“Just take a bite. I swear it’ll help.”

Your shaky fingers peel the wrapper open. Taking a bite, you’re careful not to make a mess or look stupid doing so. 

“You keep your money. College is expensive and this is nothing,” he pauses, “do you have anyone to call and pick you up? You should probably take a few days to rest.”

“Yeah, I can call my friend to pick me up. I drove here, but I don’t think I want to drive home right now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” he pauses. “let me go ask Athena if I can go grab your stuff for you.”

“It’s okay, I can wait for it.”

“No, you at least need your keys and phone.”

Before you can further protest, the man is off of the back of the firetruck and jogging over to the officer. She glances back at you before turning to Buck. You see a nod and Buck turns around this time, giving you a thumbs up.

 Athena, the woman, puts the radio up to her lips, and he heads back towards you. A few minutes later, an officer brings you your stuff. You’re not sure how you got so lucky to have such a caring person take care of you.

 But you’re pretty sure you just developed a crush on a complete stranger. 

[hemmingslftv]

pairing: evan buckley x reader

sum.: evan buckley loves nothing more than spending time in between your thighs.

warnings: MDNI. smut. literally like 99% smut. plot? don’t know her. oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulating, implied that buck cums in his pants, implied p in v sex, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: requested by a lovely anon, anon, i apologize for slightly drifting from the request. i started and then the ending just came out of nowhere but felt right. no one look at me, idk what came over me. unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 941

Evan Buckley loves nothing more than coming home to you still in bed, wearing nothing but one of his LAFD t-shirts and pretty pink lace panties.

He’s exhausted. But he hasn’t seen you in over 24 hours. Hasn’t tasted you in over 24 hours.

Evan could live and die in between your thighs. And most days, he tries. Not that you let him most days, citing that the two of you have far more important things to do than spend the day in bed.

You’re off today. Probably scheduled a hot yoga or pilates class for around noon, but you shouldn’t have any real plans today.

Which means he can spend his morning in his favorite place.

Evan makes quick work of stripping himself down to his boxers and crawling into bed next to you.

He wastes no time kissing you awake, quickly and greedily placing his hands on your jaw and bringing his mouth to yours.

You moan into his mouth and kiss him back, waking back up.

“Evan,” You bite your lip as he kisses his way down your neck, making sure to bite down sharply at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I have, oh fuck, a class in like 20 minutes,” You moan out, and feel him grin against your skin.

“I’ll pay your no show fee, again,”

You roll your eyes when you feel his greedy hands play with the waistband of the frilly pink lace you call panties that he knows you put on when he texted you that he was on his way home.

“They’re going to just cancel my membership at this rate,” Your fingernails dig into his bare shoulders, his mouth finding yours as he starts yanking at your underwear.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing there’s about twelve other pilates studios in a five-mile radius,”

Cheeky bastard.

“And are you going to be paying for my membership to one of these nicer studios?”

He finally pulls away from you to practically rip the t-shirt you're wearing off of your body, one hand immediately pinch at one of your nipples.

“If you want to go to the most expensive pilates studio in LA, I’ll make it happen baby,”

Smirking, you grab his free hand and place it right at your pussy.

“Well then, big boy, you better get your money’s worth,”

Not needing to be told twice, he quickly rips your panties off, kissing your hip bone where one side of the lace dug in harshly.

Blue eyes quickly meet yours, gleaming slightly at the pout on your pretty mouth, “I’ll, uh, replace those too,”

“I know you will, baby,”

Wasting no more time, his tongue licks from the bottom of your cunt to your clit, lightly sucking on your bundle of nerves.

“Oh my god,” Hands finding purchase in his hair and tugging sharply, causing him to groan deeply.

He feels his cock harden, between your whiny moans, the feeling of your fingers tugging at his scalp, and the taste of you on his tongue, he imagines he’ll be cumming in his pants before you have your first orgasm.

Well, he can’t have that.

Tugging your thighs over his shoulders, he tugs you closer to his mouth, tongue making quick work of your clit.

Your grips on his hair tightens along with your core, thighs shaking lightly as you cum with a sharp moan.

Light whimpers leave your mouth as he continues to lightly lick at you, groaning as he grinds his own hips into the bed searching for some sort of relief at the hardness in his boxers.

You push lightly at his forehead, and his lips pull away from you with a light pop.

“You can give me one more,” It’s not a question. Your heart races at the gleam in his eyes

Four orgasms later, you’re hyperventilating and all your limbs are shaking.

Evan’s mouth, and now fingers, have yet to relent their assault on your poor pussy, eyes rolled back in pleasure despite the wet, sticky feeling coming from his boxers.

“E-evan I, oh god,” Tears are streaming down your face as you feel yourself clench down on his fingers, signaling your fifth orgasm of the morning.

“I can’t, oh fuck, oh fuck. Evan, I can’t cum again,”

He pulls his mouth away, but his fingers continue curling up against that spot inside you just right.

“Oh more, please, please. Gimme one more,”

If you didn’t feel so overwhelmed, you’d make fun of him. Looking at you like a puppy begging for scraps.

You’re surprised you can even cum again, you’re less surprised when Evan quickly pulls his fingers from your twitching hole to replace it with his tongue, desperate to drink what your body gives him.

His tongue is kind as it fucks you through your orgasm, hands rubbing your thighs gently to ease the shaking when he finally pulls away from you.

His mouth is on yours just as fast, both of you whimpering when his, somehow, still hard cock grindes against your overstimulated pussy. The sticky wetness of his cum seeping through his boxers and slick of your own cum making your toes curl.

You chase his mouth when he pulls away from you, both of you taking deep breaths.

He looks desperate for you still, puppy eyes shining brightly.

A sadistic feeling climbs up his spine at the tears filling your eyes when he starts grinding just a little harder.

“You did such a good job for me baby,” He sighs, closing his eyes, exhaustion from work slowly starting to creep in, “but can you give me just one more?

[hemmingslftv]

hey! i love your ash and luke one shots so i was wondering if maybe we can get a soft dom cal? something like he comes home late from a studio session and you get mad because you had plans for that night, so he begs for forgiveness by eating you out lol

i love your brain anon. this one was fun as hell.

enjoy some soft!dom cal <3 xoxo

————————

apologies. [C.H.]

🎸boyfriend!cal

the ask pretty much told y’all everything you need to know. kissy.

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, angst if u squint, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk/praise, squirting.

WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Are you guys fuckin’ coming, or what?"

"Yeah, just— gimme’ another hour. We’ll be there…"

"Swear?"

"Fuckin’ swear, Ang."

You were lying.

You knew damn well you were lying. And so did your best friend, Angie.

Also known as; the one on the phone, that had been pestering you about your plans to go out for the last three hours.

You’d been stalling for a third of that time, which you weren’t proud of. These plans had been made weeks in advance and the only thing stopping you from just getting up and leaving right now was your rather untimely boyfriend.

Calum was the type to let time slip right through his fingers. He was terrible at managing how he spent that time, let alone keeping an eye on the clock. Especially when he was at the studio with the boys.

So you weren’t surprised when he had told you he’d be home to get changed at 10:30— yet now, it was well past midnight.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you toss your phone on the side of the couch. Your long sleeve ‘going out’ top was riding up your back and furthering the anger that was boiling right through you.

"Fuckin’ hell, Cal…" You mumble to yourself, talking into open air with nobody to reprimand, nobody to yell at and let off steam.

You were alone.

The clock on the cable box blinked 12:32. An hour and a half later than the original time of your plans. You were about ready to storm out of your apartment and leave a long, shitty note for Cal to read about just how angry he had made you; but you knew deep down that you’d have a better time with him at your side. You loved him, for fuck’s sake.

Too damn much, sometimes.

Just when you thought a little too hard about putting your shoes on, you hear the familiar sound of keys rattling against the door. It was more frantic than usual; most likely due to the sweaty hands that were manning them.

You snap your head around to watch the door bust open, revealing your panting boyfriend who had probably just run up the five flights of stairs it took to get to your apartment.

He was never a fan of waiting for the elevator.

"Hi, hi, baby— hi— I’m— I’m here, I’m here." An exasperated chuckle laces through your boyfriend’s words as he tried with all of his might to kick the door closed and take his coat off at the same time.

But you just sat there. Your legs crossed, your arms folded— the most scornful, disapproving gaze in your eye.

"You’re late, Cal," you say, disdain rattling off your tongue like a viper.

"I— I know, baby. Fuck, I’m sorry. Lost track of time… fuckin’ around when I shouldn’t have been. But— I’m here now. I’m here."

His words were coming out jumbled and frantic, while still running around like a chicken with its’ head cut off. He had ventured towards the kitchen island, dropping his keys and taking off his beanie that shielded him from the crisp fall winds.

His cheeks were glowing red, still laminated with the sweat it took to get him up five flights of stairs. Yet he hadn’t even made eye contact with you.

"We made these plans weeks ago." You try your best at remaining stern with him, sitting still.

"I know, I know, I know, I know…" Calum was now migrating towards your bedroom, his voice growing faint and trailing off as he exited. You watched the empty hallway; the sounds of rummaging through drawers, opening and slamming them shut was already pissing you off more than you’d like to admit. Your leg was bobbing impatiently now, trying to think of any kind of way to cool yourself off before you burst into flames.

Or, tears.

"Cal—." Your voice cracks slightly, to no response.

"Calum." You try again, a bit louder this time.

His head finally pops around the corner of the door frame. "What?"

"Just—" Your sentence breaks with a sigh, dropping your head into your hand as you pinch the bridge of your nose, "—forget it."

"What?" He steps out into the hallway completely, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Forget it, Cal… I-I don’t even wanna’ go anymore."

The clothes that were once in his hands drop to the hardwood floor as he rushes over to you on the couch.

"Hey,” he tries to console, "don’t say that."

"What’s the point? We’re already two hours late! Angie’s one phone call away from ripping my goddamn head off!" You can’t help but huff, dropping your head into your hands.

"Y/N, I’m really sorry." Calum voice rings soft, and sweet— but there was nothing more that you wanted to do than wring out his fucking neck.

"Just— drop it, Calum. I’m already in a shitty mood."

You hated being so mean.

Each time you yelled at him was like the snapping of one of your heart strings. But despite that tightness in your chest, he needed to know how much this affected you. Whether you liked it or not.

Calum stays quiet for a moment, seemingly nervous to say the wrong thing or misstep. He was always so cautious with you, never picking a fight. Even though you’ve picked many.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" He asks, squatting down to be level with your sunken face.

"No."

"I could… run you a bath?"

You shake your head. "Nuh uh."

"I could make you dinner?"

"I already ate."

When you peek out from between your fingers, you notice Calum’s lips pushed to the side. He braces his hands on your knees, still crouching and trying to get some sort of read on your face.

He could tell you weren’t happy.

And he fucking hated that.

"Can I see that pretty face?"

That almost got a smile out of you, but you opted just to shake your head.

"I’m not sure how else to say I’m sorry, my girl." His thumb starts a cadence of soothing circles around the outside of your knees.

"Try saying it in French," you mumble, rubbing your tired eyes.

Calum sucks his teeth, "Ouch."

Growing impatient and just about ready for bed, you sit upright. Faced with Calum for the first time since he bust through the door.

His heather green flannel was slouching on his shoulders, looking beat up from the 10 hour day he’d spend working in the studio. His curls hung lowly over his big brown eyes, in desperate need of a trim.

It was taking everything inside of you not to grab his face and tell him how much you loved him, because in spite of all this, you still did.

He was an expert at pissing you off, and it only made you love him more.

"There’s my beautiful girl," he says upon seeing you, smiling meekly, still trying to get your spirits up.

"’Don’t feel it."

"Why not?"

"’Cause you piss me off."

Cal chuckles, squeezing your kneecaps and adjusting his squatted position.

"Can’t really argue with that."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment; the decorative string lights from behind your couch were twinkling in his chocolatey irises, and painting him out to be some sort of angel. His pretty cherub cheeks were still rosy from rushing around and quite frankly, it suited him.

You’ve fallen too damn hard.

"Y’know, I thought of another way to make it up to you."

"Yeah?" You quip, leaning back on the couch cushions.

"Mhm."

His hands were still lingering, moving up to massage your exposed thighs that were now catching a draft from your lack of movement. You had planned to wear this outfit on the day you told Angie you’d be there tonight. So the fact that you were still in it, yet not where you said you’d be, was making your blood boil.

"Gonna buy me back all the time I wasted getting ready for tonight?" You seethe lowly, trying not to sound too bitchy yet coming across as the bitchiest bitch in the world.

Calum frowns, his Doc Martens squeaking against the hardwood floor as he adjusts his posture, "You’re really good at that."

"Good at what?" You muse, chuckling through your nose.

"Firing the shit I pull right back at me. It’s sexy."

"Don’t try to butter me up, Cal. I know I’m sexy. Hence why it took me an hour and a half to get ready."

For some odd reason, your whiny complaints and moody comments towards Calum didn’t seem to be effecting him. They were bouncing off his puffed up chest like he was made of rubber. He was used to your incessant need to be on time, and how he was quite literally your antithesis.

But those witty remarks you kept throwing at him were one of the things he loved most about you. Which is why he kept egging you on.

"I’m really sorry, baby. I’m really sorry I wasted your time."

You try your hardest to bite back a smile, but it doesn’t go over well. "You should be."

Without another word, Calum is dropping down to his knees and suddenly, your heart is racing.

"Can I make it up to you," his hand creeps towards the hemline of your skirt, "like this?"

"I’ll consider it," you nod, trying to seem unbothered by your boyfriend’s large, weathered hands, "But what’s in it for me?"

"Trust me, baby. It’ll be all about you. You won’t have to move a muscle and I swear, on everything I love…"

His fingers stretch across the width of your thighs, prying open your legs with a wicked grin.

"… I’ll have your fuckin’ legs shaking like crazy within the next ten minutes."

Your face flushes, hands subconsciously gripping onto the couch cushions down at your sides at your boyfriend’s promise. He’s still gleaming up at you, waiting for your approval; he’s never the type to handle you without your permission.

"The journey to forgiveness is a long, winding road… But this is definitely a good start, Calum. Well done."

Despite your cool, agile reply, your heart continues to thump out of your ribcage when you see how your unnerving boyfriend reacts to the sound of his own name. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply with that smile still painted onto his cheeks.

"Keep fuckin’ talking like that. See where you end up."

You scoff playfully, "Is that a threat, Mr. Hood?"

"Not a threat, my girl… It’s a promise."

His hands are dancing dangerously close to your underwear now, having crept up your skirt without you even noticing. But you hadn’t a care in the world. You were merely turned on by the sight of him, so eager to please you. So ready for your forgiveness.

"Fuck, you’re good," you groan, letting a whimper slip past as well, "Show me how sorry you really are, then."

In no time, Calum is leaving a sultry trail of kisses up your thigh. You hiss at the feeling of his cool lips against you; having not felt them since the last time the two of you fucked. Which was about four days ago.

He had been quite busy in the studio with the band’s upcoming album, so times like these were a novelty. Not like you minded much, any quality time spent with Calum was worth a million years.

And besides, he’s damn good at it. Why tamper with an already perfect system?

"I know what I said, but can you do somethin’ for me?" Your boyfriend’s head pops up from beneath your skirt with sparkly eyes.

"Mh, depends." You reply lazily.

"Wanna hear you, baby. Wanna hear that pretty voice."

"That won’t be an issue," you smile, lifting your upper half from the couch, "You may have to earn it though…"

Calum’s eyebrow quirks, looking like he’s just about ready to wipe that catty smile right off of your face.

"Since when are you the one to give orders around here?"

You sit up even further to spit back, "Since you decided to fuck around with your boyfriends and make us miss our fucking plans."

There isn’t even an opportunity for you to say any more, since Calum had decided to grip the backs of your thighs and yank you to the edge of the couch. He lifts your legs, ripping your panties off swiftly and tossing your knees over his shoulders before you can even blink.

You gasp at the sudden dynamic change, shallow breaths barely escaping your throat as your boyfriend is now heaving as well. His once angelic brown eyes had shifted to something darker.

Somebody needed to pinch you. You must be dreaming.

"Watch that mouth," he growls lowly, that soft demeanor of his slightly peeking through his cold exterior, "Not gonna tell you again."

Your face drops, now nodding like a desperate mess.

"I don’t care how sorry I am. Good girls get their way, bad girls don’t. And we both know that, don’t we my baby?"

"Yes— yes sir."

"Gonna be good for me?"

You nod again, fingernails digging into the couch cushions as his apology has not only become something you really really wanted—

It was now something you needed.

"Please, Cal. Promise… Promise I’ll be good for you."

He smiles, and a familiar warmth settles back into the pit of your stomach as he kisses both of your knees.

"That’s my fuckin’ girl."

Sweat begins to pool across your forehead when the first kiss is planted on your inner thigh. You writhe above him, patiently waiting for his mouth to travel down to where you needed it to be.

But patience runs thin in moments like these, especially since Calum was such a fucking tease.

"Cal, baby— please…"

Another couple of kisses later and you’re still feeling unfulfilled. At this point, his head was so far deep into your skirt that you could only see the frosty tips of his unruly curls. He hears your plea, nodding slowly.

"Getting there, pretty. Getting there…"

A shock wave zaps your spine the moment he makes contact with your clit. Your body jolts, feeling the slow rhythm of his tongue toying with your sensitive bud.

"Jesus fuck—" You sigh, trying to fulfill the promise of letting him hear you while simultaneously trying to lasso your head back onto your shoulders.

Calum hums happily, which sends another wave of flutters down your body. You were so damn sensitive, and your boyfriend knew it too. But when his head was between your legs, he never seemed to think, or care about anything else.

He flattens his tongue against your dripping slit, making sure to move slowly and pay attention how long it took him to drag his tongue from one part, to the next. You’re still wriggling around, but Cal’s got his arms locked around your thighs.

You couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

"Just— just like that, baby… Keep— keep doing that."

The blood rushes to your head when he finds that particularly sweet spot with the tip of his tongue; he’s moaning, you’re moaning, it was like a symphony of desperate pleas. Your hands fly to meet his head, fingers getting tangled in his chocolatey curls as he starts to use his nose in cohesion with his tongue.

"Fuck me, you’re magic, Cal…"

He hums again. Of course, he agrees. He knows he’s the only one who could ever make you feel this way, and he was damn proud of it.

Apology: accepted.

But you wouldn’t tell him that.

That familiar crash of adrenaline was beginning to wash over you, your stomach began twisting in knots as each tug of Calum’s hair produced more and more pressure onto your pussy. He was chipping away at you, collecting your juices onto his tongue and savoring each and every flavor of you. By the sounds he was making, you could only assume that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

"Cal, baby… I’m close. Gonna’ cum… gonna’ cum really soon."

You say the magic words. Your lower half was already preforming backflips at only the flick of his tongue, but that euphoria heightened when he took it upon himself to pop his head up and start using his fingers instead.

He dips one finger inside of your dripping heat, his face slicked with your wetness as he finds your eyes for the first time since he started. Your mouth hangs open, trying your hardest to keep the eye contact as he begins to speak.

"Forgive me, baby? I’m really, really, really sorry."

You nod wearily through a breathy moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head.

"Y—yes… Yes Cal, I—"

Your sentence is cut short by the feeling of a second finger entering you, curling up to brush against that sweet spot with each new stroke.

"Yes what? You forgive me? Say it like you mean it, my girl… I know you can do it."

His taunting words pull another moan from your throat. He’s still looking at you with hooded eyes, enjoying every second of watching you fall apart. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your sweet boy tonight, but you definitely didn’t mind it.

"Yes. Yes, baby— I— I forgive you," you breathe, that swirling feeling in the pit of your stomach ready to burst, "I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you…"

Calum nods, his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip as he watches the obscene ways of your impending orgasm. If he was more honest with himself, your face alone could’ve had him coming on the spot. But he would never admit that. You always came first.

"Yeah? You mean it?" He asks another question. You swore this was some sort of game.

"Yes baby, I— I mean it—!"

Your breathing picks up, Calum’s fingers now moving a bit sloppily, yet keeping that steady rhythm that was driving you up the walls. The pressure building in your lower half was unfamiliar, drawing quick confusion out of you mere seconds before your orgasm.

"Cal, wait— I—"

Alarm bells were blaring in your head, now that Calum had taken his other, freer hand to press his palm flat onto your stomach. He knew what was coming, but you didn’t have a clue.

"Let it go for me, my girl. Let me hear it. Fuckin’ give it t’ me."

Not only does your orgasm rip through your body like a whip cracking down onto pavement, a new sensation was felt the moment Cal told you to let go. A spurt of wetness coats his fingers and the lower half of his face, bringing you to immediately go stark white.

Your chest is heaving, coming down from the high that your boyfriend had just whipped you through. He beat the clock and kept his promise, that’s for damn sure.

"What just— what the fuck. What the fuck, Cal?" You giggle through the comedown, watching Calum triumphantly admire his digits that were now soaked with you. The feeling of you. The taste of you.

"Think you just accepted my apology in more ways than one, baby," your beau chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his fist.

"I can’t believe I just did that," you mumble meekly, now slightly self-conscious as you realized what had just occurred.

Calum scoffs with a shrug, "I can, are you kidding? I knew you had it in you. And all it took was me fucking up to get it out."

"Don’t put it like that," you cringe, scrunching your nose, "Makes it weird."

Calum then begins a slow rhythm of massaging your thighs, something he always does whenever you’re coming down from one of your highs.

"Okay. Won’t make it weird. But let me ask you this— are you still mad?"

You raise your eyebrows, still flustered, watching him lean upward to rest his elbows on your legs. His flannel was in a disarray, as were his curls; you were so wrapped up in admiring him that the thought of anger never even crossed your mind.

"Mad about what?" you ask innocently.

"Mhm," he hums, before leaning in to peck you gently on the lips, "Exactly."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[hemmingslftv]

New Beginnings

✩: After being betrayed by her long-time boyfriend, the reader finds herself healing and finding love with the one guy no one though she would fall for

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Main Masterlist

pairing: Charles leclerc x (ex)gf!reader / Michael clifford x fem!reader

request: Yes

warnings: mention of cheating

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yourusername

liked by charleslelcerc, alexandrasaintmleux, sierradeaton and 710,749 others

yourusername: summer break with My favorite boy 💗

tagged: @ charlesleclerc

view 5,846 comments

francisca.cgomes: my sexy gf 😍

yourusername: All you baby girl

username27: I want what they have

username28: She's so pretty and he's there

iamrebeccad: Stunning angel

yourusername: no, that’s youu <33

username29: The charles's photo holy shit

username30: I don't know who i want to be more

username31: I'm obsessed holy shit

username32: I want her charles i'm coming for you

username33: Thanks to you I'm feeling very single

charlesleclerc: Mon bel ange (My beautiful angel)

charlesleclerc: I love you angel

sierradeaton: you’re insanely gorgg omg

yourusername: have you seen yourself?!?!

username34: MOTHER

username35: The woman that you are OMG 😍

username36: future mother to my kids

charlesleclerc: No💗

username37: the prettiest girl ever 😍

username38: @ charleslelcerc I want to meet at this place and this time

username39: ask your man if he can fight

sabrinacarpenter: literally obsessed with you

username40: screw charles, i want her

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yourusername 📍Philadelphia,Pennsylvania

liked by sierradeaton, charlesleclerc, iamrebeccad and 689,846 others

yourusername: Spent some time with my babies and sisters in my hometown

view 5,207 comments

username41: stopp Valentina and Diego are so big

username42: The best aunt to baby val and diego ♥︎ by yourusername

francisca.cgomes: the sexiest aunt

yoursister: My babies😍

username43: Where's charles

username44: I live for y/naunt crumbs

charleslecerc: come back It's lonely and i miss you

yourusername: I miss you too

charlesleclerc: Tell My babies That i miss them

yourusername: Val said and I quote "i miss uncle chacha"

username45: “uncle chacha” THAT’S SO CUTE WTF 😭😭😭

iamrebeccad: girlfriend, you’re looking cute 😍

username45: can we talk about how Val calls charles “uncle chacha”

carlossainz55: I'm still val's favorite driver

yourusername: she said she can't choose

username46: the worlds best aunt

yourusername: You said it not me

username47: i want yn as my aunt

username48: she’s gorgeous and she’s good with kids help me

username49: let me wife you up, please

username50: If charles doesn't put a ring on that finger I will

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alexandrasaintmleux

liked by charlesleclerc, michaelclifford and 684,735 others

alexnadrasaintmleux: My summer love <3

comments have been disabled

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charlesleclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 472,989 others

charlesleclerc: nothing but views

view 20 comments

alexandrasaintmleux: the cutest view is youThe comment has been deleted

arthurleclerc: so this is the reason you ditch me?

arhturleclerc: Why couldn't you take me to see the beautiful views with you.

carlossainz55: Mate who took the second photo🤨🤨

charlesleclerc: a stranger who was in the water mate

yourusername: My handsome boy

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yourusername

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris and 690,985 others

yourusername: girls just wanna have fun 💋💃🍻

tagged: @francisca.cgomes @iamrebeccad

view 5,107 comments

username51: Okay baddie

username52: She knows she's a 10

francisca.cgomes: I'm obsessed just like she is comment has been deleted

francisca.cgomes: I love youuuu

username53: omfg kika we saw that comment don't act slick

username54:what comment?

username53: Kika made a comment saying "I'm obsessed with you just like she is" Basically saying alex is/was obsessed with yn

username55: In her revenge era and I'm here for it.

iamrebeccad: My girl🥰🥰

username56: Not the shirt😭😭

username57: charles FUMBLED so bad

username58: broo her and michael would lowkey be cute😅

username59: Isn't she friends with sierra luke's wife which is also Michael's bandmate??

username60: @michaelclifford

username61: Not charles in the likes like bro your done

carlossainz55: his loss ♥︎ by pierregasly

username62: CARLOS WTF?!?

username63: Not carlos throwing shade lol

username64: his own teammate and Bestfriend lol I'm crying

username65: HAHA PIERRE LIKING IT

username66: he knows he fucked up big time

carmenmmundt: the prettiest girl 😍

charlesleclerc: babe pls call me

username67: leave ass wipe

username68: SIERRA WORK UR MAGIC PLS

username69: yn >> alex

sierradeaton: @michaelclifford

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(I don't know how to do the photos where it shows that you unfollow a person so hehe)

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yourusername

liked by michaelclifford, yoursister, and 698,084 others

yourusername: hot girl summer ft. Valentina :)

view 4,648 comments

username70: The 8th slide girl😭😭

username71: fuckkkk ur hot as hell

username72: from "summer break with My favorite boy" to "Hot girl summer" 😭

username73: it's always about yn but what about valentine "uncle chacha"

username74: I hate you 😭😭😭😭

francisca.cgomes: My gorgeous girlfriend

yourusername: I love you girlfriend😘😘

pierregasly: HELL NO BACK🤺🤺

username75: I want her

username76: men (*cough* charles cough*) really are a disappointment

username77: Michael pls pls i'm begging shoot your shot.

iamrebeccad: beautiful baby

username78: She's hot and she damn well knows it

username79: anyone else see Michael liked her post???

username80: they follow each other lolol

yoursister:😍😘🥰😍

username81: I'm sorry Charles but your new girl will NEVER compare to my girl

username82: ya’ll are so pressed over a nonexistent relationship 😭

username83: Holy shit hot girl summer, indeed 😍

username84: I need sierra do introduce them now

lukehemmings: @sierradeaton

username85: YESSS LUKE DOING GOD'S WORK

username85: men ain’t shit

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yourusername

liked by michaelclifford, sierradeaton, lukehemmings, and 701,012 others

yourusername: I only came because i had free tickets 😁😘

tagged: @yoursister

view 5,751 comments

username86: FREE TICKETS?!? Michael invited her omfg

username87: YN AND MICHAEL HELL YAH

carlossainz55: Vaya, vas a un concierto antes de venir a un partido de fútbol conmigo. decepcionado

(wow you go to a concert before coming to a football match with me. disappointed)

username88: yn a 5sos fan never knew

yourusername: it's because I'm not I mean I like some of their music but I'm more of a Green day, nirvana, coldplay fan.

yourbff: YOU WENT TO A 5SOS CONCERT BEFORE GOING TO A COLDPLAY CONCERT WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?! Are you more of a 5sos fan now?

yourusername: no no, I will always be a coldplay fan. I just went since i got free tickets

michaelclifford: you can now admit you go for the wrong band

username89: AM I CRAZY OR DID MICHAEL JUST COMMENT?!?!

username90: soo, is no one going to talk about her michael shirt?

username91: hehe she went to support her futur bf's band😚😚

username92: we got yn at a 5sos concert before gta6

username93: And ferrari

yourusername: Carlos forever!! and for 5sos I'lm still deciding

sierradeaton: your welcome

username93: thank you queen🙌

username94: from a formula one wag to a rockstar gf holy shit

username95: their exes do each other and now they do each other what a plot twist.

francisca.cgomes: well well well 😏

username96: Alex and Charles were found crying in a corner🤣

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yourusername 📍sydney

liked by carlossainz55,lando, francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer and 620,108 others

yourusername: Sydney Vibez only 🌴🌊

view 4,875 comments

sabrinacarpenter: Hott

username97: mother?!?!?

username98: damn ever since she got single she's got hotter.

francisca.cgomes: my one and only

username99: Ha charles really lost The badest bitch

username100: yn, give me one chance

lilyzneimer: Hottie

yourusername: I love you <33

iamrebeccad: I will leave carlos for you

michaelclifford: Love this Vibe

carmenmmundt: Pretty girl, And prety views

username101: Yn living her best life with no man by her side

kellypiquet: 😍 beautiful as always!

username102: I want to be yn

usernme103: Hot girl summer belongs to you and only you

username104: Most gorgouse girl to ever exist

username105: I feel so bad for charles lol

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michaelclifford

liked by yourusername, lukehemmings, calumhood, yourbff and 687,894 others

michaelclifford: Home sweet home

tagged: @calumhood

view 4,730 comments

username105: wait ur in Sydney?

username106: wait- my girl is in Sydney

username107: Oh there sooo together

username108: Are we sure he's actually in Sydney?

username109: Girl be fucking for real, first off his caption says "Home Sweet Home" And as far as I know he's from Sydney, second off there are literally 2 photos where you can see the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

calumhood: 🤙🤙

username110: fuck he's so hot ♥︎ by yourusername

username111: I'm only here for moose moose and south, yet there are no photos of them. Shame on you 👎😒

michaelclifford: I'm sorry I promise I'll make a post of just them😓😔

username112: Who's moose and south?

username113: His dogs

username114: The person who took these photos must be hot because if they can take hot pictures that means they are hot ♥︎ by michaelclifford

username115: He's hot and he knows it.

username116: He has to be with yn

username117: holy shit, yn is this you

username118: Oh how to be yn

username119: Alex must feel so bad like she left THIS for Charles

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yourusername

liked by francisca.cgomes, michaelclifford, sierradeaton and 688,884 others

yourusername: loveee 💕💘

view 4,638 comments

francisca.cgomes: ahhhh love love love

username120: HOLY SHIT

username121: THIS HAS TO BE MICHAEL

sierradeaton: I knew it would work comment has been deleted

username122: lolol alex and charles are both fuming rn

username123: Oh I know who that is, I mean come on I can see his tattoo.

username124: "You're literally my dream girl" same Michael

username125: ahhhh My girl is getting treated the way she deserves.

lukehemmings: What a beautiful dog🐶 ♥︎ by yourusername

username126: Oh to be yn

username127: Oh to be MICHAEL

username128: My girl upgraded so much

username129: imagine being yn and you get a text from him saying that I would die

username130: real ones know that’s literally michael

michaelclifford: Not to shabby huh?

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michaelclifford

liked by lukehemmings, carlossainz55, kellypiquet and 701,027 others

michaelclifford: I think this is a soft launch?

view 6,637 comments

username131: Boy we know who that is don't need to hide it from us

username132: Not the "I think" 😭😭

lukehemmings: mate are you okay??

ashtonirwin: bro I think they hacked him

username133: I CAN TELL YN APART FROM MILES AWAY

username134: “soft launch” we all know its yn

username135: idk if i want to be yn or be him

yourusername: I want to meet your girlfriend she seems wonderful

michaelclifford: She's the best

username136: That ^ was all the confirmation we needed thank you

username137: at this point their not even trying to hide it

username138: charles and alex found dead in a pool of their own tears

username139: MOM AND DAD FR

username140: charles really fumbled the bad bitch but that's okay since Michael is here now

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michaelclifford

liked by yourusername, sierradeaton, francisca.cgomes and 867,268 others

michaelclifford: This is for everyone who follows me just for my dogs

tagged: @moosemoose @southy

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yourusername & michaelclifford

liked by michaelclifford, ashtonirwin,iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, and 689,989 others

yourusrname: My rockstar🤘🎸

comments have been disabled

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Taglist: @anamiad00msday @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3

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A/n: I wanted to come on here and let you all know that I have updated my tag list form, I added a few more drivers!

Updated Form: Click here

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[hemmingslftv]

eyes up l.h || blurb

summary: luke can’t keep his eyes to himself during a red carpet interview.

warnings/tags: luke’s a bit of perv in this one, fwb/hidden hookup trope, female reader, i don’t think there’s any others let me know!!

a/n: just a little blurb i wrote in the middle of the night last night. let me know if i should make a taglist for each fandom i’m in or if you’d want to be apart of that!! happy reading <3

y/n had worn a dress to kill. she was on the red carpet before the MTV music awards wearing a floor-length form fitting gown with feathers holding the bodice, specifically extenuating her chest. she had gone with a black swan theme for her first red carpet look. she had dressed to potentially accept an award for best newcomer, an award she had no expectations of winning. the expectation died more and more as she mingled with, in her eyes, much more deserving artists. 

luke posed with the other members of 5 seconds of summer for the paparazzi as they anxiously await the fate of their newest album. his eyes flittered around the crowd, taking in the overwhelming flashing lights, the sound of camera shutter, the noise of the room. 

the band soon found themselves being interviewed before entering the venue right alongside some artists that they’ve met before and some that they haven’t. while most of the band couldn’t see her from this angle, luke had the perfect view of his friend, a special friend, being interviewed right next to them. 

god, luke wished he was in a different position. he rocked back and forth on his feet and glanced around tensely. he couldn’t concentrate on the questions being asked as his latest hookup was standing just feet away with her boobs almost spilling out of her dress, slits on either side of the skirt, back exposed to the cold air. he wondered if she was covered in goosebumps from the kiss of the cold or if they would only appear when his fingertips grazed her skin. 

she glanced past her interviewer for a minute and caught luke’s eye, letting a bashful look grace her face before continuing on with her interviewer. luke’s fate was sealed.

“i need to see you later, please.” 

[hemmingslftv]

imagine a reader who hasn’t been laid in such a long time and can’t help but look at buck to help out with that. and it turns into a friends with benefits situation!!!

(even though they both like eachother way more than a friends with benefits relationship would incline)

MUTUAL BENEFIT — E.BUCKLEY

buck’s a great friend. maybe a bit too good of a friend sometimes.

evan buckley x gn!reader | nsfw | 1.5k | masterlist.

this post is 18+ for NSFW mentions. MDNI.

a/n | i didn’t take a month’s hiatus… whattt??

You tell yourself it's nothing.

The way Buck laughs at your jokes a little too long. The way his eyes always seem to land on you in a room full of people. The way his hand lingers on your shoulder after a long shift, warm and solid and grounding.

You're friends. You’ve always been friends. That’s all it is.

But then again, you haven’t been laid in months. Maybe longer. You’ve stopped counting because it’s gotten embarrassing—this long, dry stretch of nothing but cold showers and the kind of dreams that leave you waking up flushed and frustrated.

It’s not like you haven’t tried.

You’ve swiped, chatted, even gone out a couple of times, but nothing clicks. No one sticks. It’s hard to get close to anyone when your schedule’s a mess of overnights, 24-hour shifts, and the kind of emotional toll that makes you want to curl up and sleep for a week, not try to impress someone over drinks.

Firefighting doesn’t leave a lot of space for a personal life. And lately, it feels like it’s squeezing the air out of everything else too.

So yeah, maybe you’re frustrated.

Okay—really frustrated.

And maybe Buck’s right there, with his stupidly warm smile and stupidly kind eyes and the kind of body that makes you clench your jaw when he peels off his turnout gear after a call. He’s always been touchy, affectionate. And you’ve always let him. But now… now you’re starting to notice it in a way you didn’t let yourself before.

The way his fingers brush your arm when he passes you something. The way he throws his arm over your shoulders on the couch like it’s nothing. Like you’re his. The way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking.

You start to push back. Not obviously. Just… testing things.

You lean into him a little longer than you should when you’re sitting next to each other. Let your hand rest on his thigh during movie night at his place. Make jokes that toe the line between teasing and flirting. And every time, Buck meets you right there, just as bold, just as easy.

And still, neither of you says anything.

Because it’s safer not to.

Because if you call it what it is, you might have to do something about it. And doing something about it? That could ruin everything.

But that doesn’t stop you from looking.

It doesn’t stop the ache that curls low in your stomach when he stretches in the morning, shirt riding up to reveal the sharp lines of his abdomen.

It doesn’t stop your imagination from filling in the gaps every time he leans over you, close enough to kiss.

It doesn’t stop the nights you spend alone, needy, sweating, pretending the hand you slide into your pants isn’t yours but his.

One night, after a brutal double shift—fire, accident, fire again—you both crash on his couch, too exhausted to move. You're sore in places you didn't know could be sore. Everything hurts. Your brain is a haze of adrenaline and fatigue, and all you want is to feel good for once. Just for a little while.

The apartment is quiet. It smells like laundry and cheap takeout. Buck’s beside you, half asleep, chest rising and falling slow and steady. You watch him for a minute, and something inside you just… breaks.

“I'm so tired of feeling like this,” you mutter.

Buck shifts, head turning toward you. “Like what?”

“I don’t know empty?” You exhale. “Frustrated. Lonely. Like I can’t remember the last time someone touched me and meant it,”

His brow furrows, sleepy and soft. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me,”

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant, Buck,”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and tense.

Then Buck says, quietly, “I know what you meant,”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

He sits up a little, eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “If you just want to feel good for a while… I’m right here,”

You laugh, but it sounds more like a gasp. “Buck—”

“What?” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,”

You want to say no. You want to say this is a terrible idea. You want to be the responsible one. But your body is screaming yes, and your heart is a knot of feelings you don’t even know how to begin unraveling.

So instead, you lean forward and kiss him.

And he kisses you back like he’s been waiting forever.

It’s not tentative, not soft. It’s hungry. Desperate. Like he needs you as badly as you need him. His hands find your waist, your back, your face. You pull him closer, drag him down on top of you, and when he groans into your mouth, you nearly lose your mind.

Clothes come off in a blur. Skin on skin, finally. You touch and gasp and ache and cling. It’s not perfect—nothing about this ever is—but it’s real, and it’s hot, and it’s him. And that’s enough.

More than enough.

You ride the high together, breathless and sweaty and tangled in his sheets, until you’re both shaking, laughing softly, limbs entwined.

Afterward, you lie there, heart still thudding, trying to catch your breath. Buck’s arm is around you, holding you like you’re something precious, like this is more than what you said it was.

“One night,” you murmur.

“Right,” he echoes.

But neither of you moves.

—

The next morning, you both pretend like nothing’s changed.

You get dressed. You joke about your hair. You make coffee. You leave. He lets you.

But something has changed. It’s in the way he looks at you now. In the way your hand hovers at his arm like you’re afraid to touch him again. In the silence between your words.

You don’t talk about it.

You both try to keep things normal. You work your shifts, eat your meals, shoot the shit in the truck like always. But every time he looks at you, you remember the way he touched you. Every time he laughs, you remember how he sounded when he came.

It doesn’t go away.

And the thing is—it wasn’t just one night.

It wasn’t meaningless.

Because it happens again. And again. Always under the same pretense: stress relief, release, just two friends helping each other out. A favour. A habit.

But each time, it’s harder to pretend you don’t care. That you don’t feel safe in his arms. That your heart doesn’t leap when he pulls you close afterward and murmurs your name like it means something.

You don’t know when the lie stopped being a lie. Maybe it never was. Maybe you were both just too scared to admit what you wanted.

One night, after the third time in two weeks, you’re lying together in that familiar hush, his arm over your chest, your fingers brushing his.

“Does this feel like just sex to you?” you ask quietly.

Buck doesn’t answer right away. Then, softly, “No.”

You turn your head. “Then why are we pretending it is?”

He exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Because if it’s not… then, its something else,”

You nod. You understand that better than anyone.

But still.

“I don’t want to keep pretending,”

He looks at you then. His eyes are soft and full of something you’ve tried not to name.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he says.

Your heart stumbles. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Can you blame a guy for not wanting to risk it?”

You laugh—light, disbelieving. “You idiot,”

His grin is sheepish. “Yeah. Kinda,”

You reach for him, and this time, it’s not about sex. It’s not about frustration or loneliness or stress. It’s about him. About you. About everything you’ve both been too scared to say.

You kiss him like you mean it.

Because you do.

[hemmingslftv]

BIRTH-MARKED — e. buckley x reader

Summary: Kissing Buck’s birthmark brings you both comfort. Word-count: 1k Warnings: allusions to smut, mentions of comas/hospitals, very brief mention of suicide attempts, mentions of the lightning strike (rip). A/N: inspired by a post i saw on the tl of @sapphirest0nes talking abt this!

The very first time you did, it was an accident. You weren't dating yet, but there was definitely something going on, and everyone knew as much. You'd just saved someone off of a ledge somewhere in LA. You're not sure you could really remember their name. It's a very common call. It was someone young, though, with the potential of their entire life still ahead of them.

That had made you both all the more emotional, once you'd helped them come off of it safely. Still high on adrenaline, you hugged him so tight you'd had to ask him if he was okay later. When you were both still hugging, his face buried in your shoulder, you got the impulse to kiss him on the cheek. It was a normal, and pretty regular occurrence at that point in your 'friendship.'

Only, the odd position of the embrace made it so you couldn't actually kiss his cheek. Instead, your kiss landed on his birthmark, at the tail of his eyebrow. You thought it was an odd thing to do, at first. Feeling him smile against your shoulder was more than enough to change your mind, though.

When he pulled back, and you caught sight of his pearly whites shining in the sunlight, it made you want to kiss him there over and over again. It would've been less than appropriate, though, considering you were just friends.

You'd just put on a movie for the night. It was a rough day at work for both of you. You wanted nothing but to be in each other's quiet company and then turn in for the night. Your limbs were completely entangled on the couch, holding on, as tightly as you can, to each other.

It was at the beginning of your relationship, so it hadn't exactly been a common occurrence for you to have such a domestic moment. It made you appreciate these moments so much more.

About 20 minutes into the movie, he was already out. His breathing was deep and steady against your ear. You lifted your face to look up at him sleeping peacefully. It made you grin. It made your heart jump and do backflips in your chest. You felt you could kiss him all over.

Instead, you whispered you loved him, and you kissed him in the one place that can't be replicated in anyone else. His birthmark. A blessing for the both of you, for him to have, and for you to kiss.

Around six months into your relationship, his birthday came up. You had just come back from his birthday celebration with the 118 and his friends. You'd decided that morning that he deserved to feel special that day. 90$ lingerie special. When he told you he'd duck into the bathroom at your apartment for a moment, you made quick work of getting your clothes off.

He loved the surprise, obviously. He showed you as much for a few minutes, until you decided to remind him it was his day, not yours. Later, as you were both coming down from your mutual high, and you laid on top of him, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. You felt incredibly giggly at the movement, so you buried your face into his neck.

You'd already kissed him everywhere a person could be kissed multiple times that night, but you remembered you hadn't shown enough love to a particular part of him that could even be considered your favorite. You cupped his face between your hands and placed kisses on each side of his face. Then, you kissed his birthmark, top to bottom. The top his brow, then down to his closed eyelid. He always got really smiley when you kissed him there, which in turn made you really smiley.

You both slept, with your lips still attached to the birth-marked side of his face that night.

You were losing him. You'd barely had time to be with him, and now you were losing him. You contemplate, and you regret every moment you spent being scared of how you felt instead of diving into this relationship. It was so good. You'd felt so much happier with every moment you let his warmth wash over you. And it was all gone in a lightning strike's flash.

You were anxious in a way that can't be explained. You weren't ready to be without him. Sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to die, was one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

You weren't his anything official yet, too, so you had to leave him every night without knowing if he'd still be there the next time you came back. And that was the hardest thing you've ever had to do.

Every night, the nurses would start getting annoyed with you, because you took every single chance to try pushing visitation hours as much as you could, to could spend a few minutes with him afterwards. You'd always sigh and press a kiss to the top of his brow, and then his eyelid. It made you a little less mad at the universe. Thinking that might be the last thing you get to do to him. It was a ritual that calmed you down, and you constantly hoped he could feel it too.

Moving in with a partner is a difficult decision for any regular couple. But not you and Buck. You'd already been through too much together for this to be even considered a big step. Technically, you'd already lived together at the firehouse, spent over 24 hours together at a time hundreds of times, and memorized each other's every habit.

This whole thing was just taking every good aspect of your relationship and amplifying it to 100. Waking up together, brushing your teeth in the same mirror, making breakfast, and lunch, and dinner together. Now, it could be everyday.

You also liked that he was always an arm's length away. Physical touch was a big thing for both of you, and being able to reach out and touch him anywhere at any time was your version of heaven on earth.

If you're getting really specific, you'd say having his gorgeous face around to kiss all the time was your absolute favorite. The fact that you could be making dinner, watching a movie, or hopping into bed, and lean in to kiss his nose, his cheek, his lips. Or, best of all, his bruise-shaped birthmark.

A/N: DONT MIND HOW TOOTH-ACHINGLY FLUFFY THIS IS... also, this is my genuine reaction whenever i think abt oliver’s birthmark actually: